Authors: Bonnie R. Paulson
“Oh no.” Martha caught and patted the whimpering lump. She raised her eyes to her husband, tear filled. “Sparkles. He’s…”
Bob couldn’t hear her, but the pain on his face declared complete understanding.
Andy, Rachel’s husband, had a gun. He could put the poor animal down. The kids needed to get up and get out of the house. Speaking as calmly as possible, Rachel approached the woman and touched her shoulder. “Martha, we need to put Sparkles out of his misery. I’ll grab Andy. He can do it.”
Gray hair, matted at the back, shook as Martha nodded. Rachel’s heart ached for her friend. She struggled to keep from sobbing. “I’ll be right back.”
Sprinting, she returned to her house and bounded up the stairs. “Andy! Wake up. You need to get up.” She powered through their bedroom door and grabbed Andy’s foot. Hand over hand in the darkened room, she followed the lines of his sheet-covered, toned body and shook his shoulder hard. “Andy!” She yelled. “Andy, wake up! Hurry!”
Her husband didn’t open his eyes but brushed her hands from him and rolled over. Rachel glanced toward the doorway. “Wake up, damn it.” She grasped his shoulder tighter, ratcheting him back and forth until he turned to face her.
Andy yanked his ear plugs out and sat up. “What? I just fell asleep an hour ago.” Bleary, he blinked hard to wake up. “The house better be sinking.” He yawned and rubbed his face.
“Andy, things are falling from the sky. Martha’s dog caught fire. He… They need you to put him down. Please, hurry.” Rachel reached underneath the bed and pulled out Andy’s Glock. Snapping the clip into place, she palmed the butt.
Mouth agape, Andy climbed from bed, his boxers low on his hips. He slid his jeans on and his t-shirt followed. Rachel grabbed his arm as he bent to retrieve his socks. “No, you don’t have time. We need to go now. They need you.” She pulled him to the door and handed him the gun. “Here. I’ll get the kids ready. It’s time.”
“Time?” Confusion gave way to understanding, the softness of sleep hardened to the angles of his masculine features. “Got it. I’ll be right back.” He snagged a quick kiss, pressing his lips to hers like the world’s end had paused just for them.
Andy pounded down the stairs.
Rachel turned to the kids’ room. All three shared a room because Andy had opted not to spend any extra money on finishing the downstairs and instead had invested the surplus on supplies which he’d packed for speedy transport.
Cole stood in the doorway, watching her. “Mom? Where’s Dad going?”
Hugging her oldest to her, Rachel breathed in deep. Innocence would be shattered. Even as a psychologist she didn’t have the tools to prevent it. She pushed his unresisting form from her and looked into his eyes. “We have to go. Now. I need your help.”
Squaring his jaw in perfect imitation of his father, Cole nodded. “Tell me what to do.”
“Get dressed. Grab Beau and get him dressed. I’ll get Kayli.” Further into the bedroom packed with bunk beds and dressers, Rachel ignored the rush of fear. Adrenaline, pure and simple. She didn’t fear the end. She didn’t fear anything. Not since Rhode Island. She repeated her mantra. Nothing scared her. Not anymore. She had Andy.
Cole leaned into the bottom bunk. “Beau, we need to go. Grab Blanky. Hurry up.”
“Kayli, honey, you need to wake up. We need to get out of here.” Rachel rubbed her daughter’s arm.
The lightest sleeper, Kayli, a smaller version of Rachel with her dark brown bob and blue eyes, sat up and threw her blanket on the floor followed by her stuffed doll. “Is this the emergency you and Daddy talk about?”
Rachel opened her arms and helped the six-year-old down. “I think so. Either way, we’re going to pretend it is. I need you and Beau to get dressed and follow Cole to the backyard. Remember the drills?”
Solemn, Kayli and Rachel’s tow-headed, four-year-old boy nodded. “Yes, Mommy.”
Rachel nodded at Cole. The fourteen-year-old had plenty of experience watching the other two. They followed him like baby bears to peanut butter. She left the smaller kids in Cole’s capable hands to gather last minute papers and memory items. The majority of the necessities had been packed months ago.
A gunshot pushed its way through the walls. Rachel paused on the landing between the flights of stairs and hung her head. Martha loved Sparkles almost more than her grandchildren. Almost.
Poor Andy. He loved domestic animals. But he was strong. Stronger than most men. And he was hers.
Anxious whispers flitted down the stairs from the kids’ room. She’d have to hurry. The last thing she wanted was to have the kids outside by themselves, but she didn’t want them in the house too long either. What if it caught fire?
A few pictures from the walls downstairs topped the pile she accumulated on her walk through the house. Climbing the stairs, Rachel dodged around the opening door. “Sorry.”
Andy steadied her, his fingers warm on her elbow. “I didn’t know you’d be right here, sorry about that.” She met his solemn gaze. “I had to put the dog down. Martha is pretty upset, but Bob got her to go inside out of the fire. I asked them if they’d like to go with us.”
Rachel exhaled. “Oh, good. Are they going to ride their quads? When can they be ready?”
His hand on her back, Andy followed Rachel up the stairs. Even after all the time they’d been together, his touch still tingled. “No, they want to get to Spokane. The news reported the Red Cross stations are open and ready for thousands. I’d like to see if that’s changed. Bob is leaving in the next few minutes. They aren’t even packing.” The couple stopped mid-level. He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “Are the kids up?”
Beau appeared at the top of the stairs. “We’re here, Dad.” Backpack straps darkened his shoulders. Kayli bobbed behind him.
The electricity shut off. Darkness enveloped them. Kayli and Beau whimpered. Rachel searched with her hands and feet for the stairs and grasped their arms while offering sounds of comfort. Utter blackness greeted their eyes. Even the streetlamps fell victim to the blackout.
Andy moved around the living room, his steps padded on the carpet and stilted on the linoleum. A slight sticky sound indicated he stood in front of the fridge where Kayli had spilled grape jelly the night before. A moment later, a scratching and the flare of a match glimmered as the sun. Kayli, Beau and Cole followed Rachel down the stairs to the living room.
“I guess watching the news is out.” Andy lit a decorative candle from the centerpiece on the dining room table. “You guys have your packs? Rachel, is that everything you need?”
He led the way to the sliding door, his light a beacon as they left their home. Maybe for the last time. Or maybe just a drill. Rachel’s heart pounded.
Caboosing her family train down the deck steps, Rachel opened her mouth to stop Andy, beg him to reconsider. Spokane had Red Crosses. They’d be around others, know where their friends were. Sometimes being with the crowd was more than people gave it credit for.
Miniature meteors fell from the sky as far away as the river, over thirty streets away.
“Let me take that.” Andy set the candle on the lowest step and removed the pile from Rachel’s arms. The kids stared into the sky. Fire streaked the night sky, blocking out the stars. Andy pointed at the stairs. “Rachel, can you grab the radio? It’s in the box under the deck.”
Radio, radio. Rachel hated the Tupperware boxes under the steps during the daylight. Night time was worse. Maybe the bugs and spiders would know the sky was falling and leave her alone.
Locating the small wind up box required Rachel’s complete focus. She taught fighting fears and overcoming obstacles. A spider was not something that created fear. No, instead it was disgusting. All those legs.
Something brushed her arm.
Crap, was that a spider?
She shivered. Yuck. Her fingers closed around the box and she yanked it out, scratching her arm where the tickle had been. “Got it.” She banged her shin on the trailer tire, shapes blurred shadows against the white vinyl fencing.
Andy’s hand found her arm, his angled jaw and firm lips illuminated by fluttering flames. A thump on the tarp covering the trailer behind Andy’s quad startled Rachel. Andy took the radio before she could drop it. The spiders had bugged her more than she’d realized. “Beau, Kayli, Cole? You guys down here?”
Cole stuck his head up from the trailer behind the four-wheeler Rachel would drive. “Dad has us in already, Mom. Kayli and Beau are under here, too.”
“Thanks, Cole.” Her kids. Her husband. She needed them. Maybe that was a fear she had. Losing them. Tools to face fear made it hard to accept any. Focus on the moment, on the now. Not on what has happened and not what might happen. Focus. She wouldn’t lose them. Andy was too prepared.
A car honked from the front yard. Three houses over a roof caught fire, lighting the area like a large torch. Every moment more urgent than the last.
“Let’s see what we can get.” Andy pushed the buttons and messed with the antennae. Static. “There’s nothing on FM.” Garbled murmurs cleared little by little as Andy pressed the button.
Rachel leaned forward. “Wait, what’s that?”
“AM.” Andy bent the small antennae and a harried voice fought through the static.
“… end it there. I’m not sure where they went. Hold on, here comes something.” Muffled rubbing followed by sounds a phone makes when it’s dropped. The voice couldn’t belong to a guy older than high school, and he returned, hushed and frightened. “For those of you able to hear me, this is Tom Mason. We are under attack. I repeat, we are under attack.” Shuffling followed by quickened breathing. “Fairchild was targeted this morning and multiple bombs have made contact, annihilating the base. Spokane hasn’t fared any better, having received ill-aimed missiles.”
Rachel stared at Andy. She recognized the boy’s name. But… he’d said…
This was it. What they’d prepared for, Andy’d warned her of.
Tom Mason… She couldn’t grasp the familiarity. Where had she heard that name before?
But Andy had assumed, hoped, the end would happen in their children’s children’s lives. Not in their own. Prepared or not, the reality was jarring.
Tom continued, his young voice assuming a level of maturity well beyond his years. “Moments before the television was cut, the news said to get to the relief shelters in town. I wouldn’t do this as there is more danger in numbers. Get out of town, but be careful. I repeat, do not go to the relief shelters. Something isn’t right. I’ll sign back on once my position has stabilized.”
Static.
Palms sweaty, Rachel clenched her sweatshirt in her hands. “What do we do?”
“Exactly what we’re doing. Let’s get out front and see if we can warn anyone else.” He grabbed her hand. “We’re ready for this. Rachel, tell me you remember the way to the property.” A falling flame reflected in his eyes.
Rachel inhaled, focused on steadying herself. If the area was attacked, they’d planned on getting to their property in the national forest northeast of Coeur ‘d Alene, Idaho. He’d drilled her like their lives depended on it. Because they did. “Yes, I do.”
Andy nodded. “Good. We won’t get separated, but in case we do, get there. That’s where you’ll be safest. I will meet you there, just like we planned. ATVs are ready and packed. Let’s leave.” He pulled her into a hug and caressed her back through her shirt. “I’m sorry. I know you’re scared. We can do this.”
Rachel clutched him, hard. But time was of the essence. They separated and he gave her hand one final squeeze. “Did you get the documents?” The red container held their documents – birth certificates, Social Security cards, titles, immunizations, deeds, anything they might potentially need to prove who they were and where they belonged.
She had added the small file box full of the important paperwork and unhooked the external hard drive of the computer the day before. She’d scanned every document months ago and saved everything to the memory bank. When the hard drive had blinked, indicating it was full she’d added it to their cache of survival items.
Rachel tossed one last glance at the slider doors glowing with the reflection of bright orange flames from the burning house. One fleeting moment donated to the memory of her dark glossy hardwood California king bed. A folded open romance novel on the side table. Socks and underwear piled at the foot of the bed from laundry the day before. Rachel tightened her jaw. She had to do this. If she wasn’t strong for the kids, who would be?
The falling objects were more irregular, testifying of passing time. Rachel and her family wouldn’t be there much longer and who knew if they’d ever return.