Compass Call: Survival & Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 3) (41 page)

“You should talk. You were born with a gun in your hand,” replied Pete. “Speaking of your mom, how do you think she’s doing?”

“I was talking about
your
mom,” said John, “But she’s fine. Thanks for asking.”

Apparently Pete didn’t expect to hear that response from John because he asked, “Seriously? You know she’s fine?”

“Well, yeah. I got a glimpse of her in Arizona. I haven’t looked in on her lately, but I feel she’s fine,” said John, as he sat and reached for his pistol before remembering he didn’t have it.

Pete noticed John’s movement and said, “This is Bonnie’s Springfield. I’m cleaning it for you. She said you could use it until you got yours back.”

“Please tell her thanks for me,” said John.

“I already did.” Pete was silent for a moment and then added, “Do you think you can check on my mom?”

“I don’t know,” replied John. He didn’t want to make a promise he couldn’t keep, but he also didn’t want to disappoint his friend. “I suppose I can try. Do you want me to check on her now?” asked John.

“No. Not now. Later. I just never thought I’d ever again get a read on her status, what with the disaster and all,” said Pete. He handed John the pistol, grip first, and placed three loaded magazines on the counter next to him. “It’s so strange, this ability of yours, John.”

John reached for the pistol, and performed a quick function check before loading and sliding it into his waistband. “I agree. I was just thinking about that the other day. It’s only strange because you don’t know anyone else who can do what I do, but I know there are others. And then there are those who don’t know they can do what I do, and are waiting to be awakened. But if you think about it, I’m sure it would scare some people. There’s probably a good number of people who would want nothing to do with the spirit world. That would make for a very low percentage of spiritually active people . . . spiritual one-percenter’s,” replied John.

“Do you honestly think I can develop some ability of my own?” asked Pete.

“I do, especially since you’ve already seen Eli. I think everyone has the potential to tap into the spiritual source that connects us . . . that they can awaken if they’re open to it. The disaster brought it out in me, so I’m sure others were . . . well, also activated, for lack of a better word,” said John. He looked at Pete and said, “I know you’re open to it, and that’s the first and hardest step for most people. It’s funny though, I was once worried about what other people would think about my dreams. Now I’m doing stuff that makes my dreams look elementary. I also don’t care what people think anymore. I know who I’m serving.”

“I would,” said Pete.

“Would what? Worry about what other people think?” asked John, surprised at his friend’s candor.

“Yeah, because what the disaster destroyed in terms of rational thought and science based logic it will replace with new fear and superstition. I think a lot of survivors will end up reverting to a more traditional notion of . . . spirituality,” finished Pete.

“You mean like,
burn him, he’s a witch!
” said John, mimicking his best Monty Python voice.

“Something like that,” replied Pete seriously, as he reached for his mug and drained the last of his coffee. He walked to the sink and said, “I think you should be careful around people you don’t know.”

“You’re right, but that’s why I need to speed you along. I think I can get you to a point where you can check on your mom by yourself. That way we can be burnt at the stake together,” said John.

“Not funny, John. I don’t like fire on my skin. But I would like to check on my mom,” replied Pete.

“Ah, quit worrying, it will never come to that. As for checking on your mom, well, you’re halfway there. I just need to take you through the rest of your gates. From there, you’ll only be limited by your own doubts. As for the mission to Tony’s, I say we recon by force.”

“I thought you’d say that,” said Pete. “But can you give me some intelligence on Tony’s house?” John grabbed a pen and a napkin and quickly sketched the layout of Tony’s house. “I was only in the garage yesterday, but I vaguely remember the interior of his house from a previous visit. It’s a three-bedroom, two-and-a-half bath, ranch-style, home. With entrances here, here and here,” said John, as he marked the locations on the napkin. The master bedroom is here, which is where we’ll find Tony if he’s home.”

“Does he have any dogs?” asked Pete.

“I didn’t see or hear any dogs. No,” answered John.

“Is he married . . . kids?”

“He’s married, but his kids are all grown and gone. I’m not sure about the status of his wife. I didn’t see her yesterday, but that doesn’t mean anything,” replied John.

“Is there anything else I should know about?” asked Pete.

“Other than the fact that he’s potentially armed with my rifle and pistol . . . not that I can think of.”

“Then I say we go pay Mr. Marino a visit. Have you given any thought to what you want to do with him when we have him?” asked Pete.

“I have,” said John. “I badly want to remove him from the equation, but we’re leaving, so that manages itself. The better question is, how should I leave him? Jenna doesn’t want me to leave the neighborhood in turmoil by killing him. She wants me to set the neighborhood up for survival, not chaos.”

“Really. I thought she’d be OK with you exacting some revenge on him,” said Pete.

“I think she thinks he’s the only person willing to manage the neighborhood if I’m not interested in the job,” said John.

“You were considering it?” said Pete, surprised. “I mean, we could do pretty well for ourselves by leading this neighborhood. We’d just need to find a good source of food to get everyone over the hump. And there’s still food to be had if we move fast. It won’t be in the grocery stores, but I’m sure we can find some. Do you remember that shipping container yard I told you about, the one across from the FedEx warehouse?” asked Pete.

“I do, and I agree with you about the food. If worse comes to worse I’m sure we can even find them a covered freight hopper filled with feed corn, or even a grain silo somewhere nearby. It’s just that I can’t stay here, Pete. I have to leave,” said John. He wasn’t happy to admit that to his friend, but he knew no other way to say it. John didn’t want Pete to think, even for a moment, that there was hope and survival in staying put. He didn’t understand the need to leave himself, but he knew he had to. John felt the pull of the fair couple in Colorado.

He also had the compass. He wondered if the compass spoke to him and his need to leave. He didn’t know, but he was ready to go regardless. Deep down inside, John knew he had to reach the couple, and the quicker he reached them the better it would be for everyone in the company. Something big was coming this way, and John wanted to be long gone before it arrived.

John flinched when Pete reached out to touch his shoulder. “Are you OK? It looks like I lost you there for a minute,” said Pete.

“Sorry. You’re right. I was lost in my thoughts. Are you ready?” asked John.

“I am,” answered Pete. “All I need to do is grab my bag.”

After briefing Paul on their operational timeline, John and Pete left the house through the front door. The two men walked casually, deciding to take the longer route around the neighborhood to Tony’s house than to cut through the middle. John shivered once despite the black polar-fleece jacket he wore, but he knew he’d warm up as he walked. Based on the yard thermometer, it was a brisk 49 degrees. Winter was close at hand, but he knew the clear night sky contributed to the colder than normal temperatures. He looked up to enjoy a star filled sky like none he had ever before seen. With the absence of electrical power, the stars seemed to dominate the darkness, and for a brief moment John actually didn’t miss the power.

Both men were dressed in black, and each had gone to extensive trouble to subdue every light or reflective surface on their bodies and equipment. Even their heads were covered with black polar-fleece caps. John also wore a thin, black, Under Armour balaclava that revealed only his eyes. Pete added a well-used, two-toned, dark green and black Shemagh tactical scarf. He wrapped it around his head and over his face in middle-eastern desert fashion. John told him it made him look like an Afghani freedom fighter, and Pete’s only reply was, “You’re just
jealous.” Not wanting to insult his friend, because not everyone liked being called a freedom fighter, especially if that person fought against them at one point in their lives, as Pete had, John added that he looked pretty cool and wished he had one of his own.

Pete explained that the scarf had many useful purposes beyond covering his face and head, and compared it to John’s strange bandana fetish. When John asked him what some of those purposes were, Pete rambled off a list that included protection from the elements, a bag, pillow, towel, bandage, and camouflage.

“Do you have a spare?” asked John.

“Nope. Sorry. It’s the only one I’ve got,” replied Pete without looking at his friend.

“Whatever. Can I have yours when you die?”

“Only if I can have your night-sight when you die,” retorted Pete.

“Deal,” said John.

“Deal,” said Pete, and the two men bumped fists to seal the deal. It was a game they had played countless times before, and it was a good way to release tension. Humor always ruled over stress and worry. John had offered Pete the use of his night sight before they left, but Pete declined because it wasn’t zeroed to his larger caliber. With that, both men decided to go light, with their pistols and knives only, and a few other essential tools for breaking and entering.

After a moment of silent walking, John commented on Marcus’ changed relationship with his dad. “It seems like they’ve taken a turn for the better. Paul and Marcus have I mean,” said John.

“You could say that,” snorted Pete. “They bonded in a way only this disaster could facilitate. But it was something to see . . . that’s for sure.”

“What? The sword fight?” asked John.

“Yeah, but it was more than that. I mean, Paul stood up to that big biker without fear. And not only that, he taunted him, and after taunting him he dispatched him so quickly that I would have missed it if I blinked,” finished Pete.

“And Marcus saw the entire fight?” said John.

“He did indeed. All three of the boys did in fact, they were in the alcove. They were very impressed with Paul, and so was I, to be honest. It was an impressive display of self-control, confidence, and martial skill. I have a feeling that when the bullets run out, people like Paul will come in very handy,” said Pete, as he lowered the tone of his voice.

Both men scanned the area as they walked, watching for light and any sign of movement. They were ready to act at the first sign of trouble, or at being seen, but they continued to talk casually as if their mission included a casual walk around the neighborhood. John said, “Well that explains Marcus’ behavior when we left. The boy looked like he was ready to trip over himself to please his dad. I never thought I’d see that.”

“Yeah, all the tension between them is gone. All the boys want to be like Paul . . . I’m afraid you and I are just a couple of old, washed-up, Army vets from here on out. If I didn’t have Bonnie to love me, I’d feel really insecure about myself right now,” said Pete.

John snorted and laughed. “Yeah, right. Oh, and speak for yourself about being old and washed-up.”

“What? I saw how you looked when you got home yesterday. You were dead to the world, my friend . . . dead on your feet,” replied Pete.

“Well, to borrow an Adam reply, true that,” said John. It was Pete’s turn to laugh. “I would have liked to see the fight though. Too bad you guys didn’t record it,” finished John.

“You know, now that you mention it, I think one of the boys may have recorded it on their phone. I caught them looking over Adam’s shoulder last night when you were out, but when I came over to see what they were watching they quickly played it off,” said Pete.

“That’s good to know. I’ll talk with Adam in the morning. Thanks for the intel.”

“Hey, don’t mention it. But remember the golden rule . . . “

“. . . Never reveal a source,” they finished together.

“I’m the one who taught you that, remember?” said John.

“And I taught you the Special Forces Rule of Engagement. Do you remember that?” asked Pete, as he stole a side-long glance at John.

“Deny everything, admit nothing, and make counter-accusations. Yeah, I remember. There’s merit to that ROE when your life’s in danger,” replied John.

“There’s merit to it when you work with other people’s money too,” said Pete, in an effort to poke fun at John’s former profession.

“Low blow, bro. That’s not the case with me and you know it. I was always careful with other people’s money. But I sure don’t miss that life,” said John

“I’m trying hard to think about what I miss, and other than the comforts of home, there’s very little,” said Pete.

“Tell me about it,” said John, and after a short pause he added, “You know, I couldn’t ask for a better friend. I can’t tell you how much it means to have you here,” said John.