Compass Call: Survival & Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 3) (61 page)

Jenna grunted and added, “Or a cosmetologist.”

“A what?” John asked.

“A hairdresser. You know, someone to do my hair along the way.”

John laughed and said, “I’m glad the disaster didn’t damage your sense of humor. Besides, I can cut your hair for you. I’ll bring my clippers.”

“No thanks. I’ve seen your buzz-cuts. I’ll be happy just to keep it clean along the way.”

“You and me both.”

When John climbed out of the bath, Jenna took the opportunity to shave her legs. While she worked, John looked in the mirror and said, “I think I’ll grow a beard.”

“That’s fine with me,” said Jenna. “I’ll do the same, but with my legs. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, right. I expect you to keep your legs shaved while we’re traveling. And you know what, I think you’d look good with a beard, but I wouldn’t kiss you,” teased John.

Jenna splashed him with water and resumed her shaving. After a moment of silent work, she said, “You know, I never thought life would turn out like this.”

“Me neither, but we’re certainly going to make the best of it.”

Sleep came quick for the exhausted couple when they finally went to bed, they were both sound asleep within moments of their heads hitting their pillows. The entire house was quiet save for the muffled sigh of wind as it passed under the master bedroom door. Removing the alcove window was like opening the mouth of their home. The house seemed to come alive with many new and interesting sounds and effects, like the wind drafting under the bedroom doors, or the fluttering of the curtains and the turning of the ceiling fan blades. The missing window made the house drafty, but it was a pleasant draftiness.

CHAPTER 17

U
nseen by Bonnie and Corbin, but still very much heard by both, a military jet screamed past high overhead. The sharp crack and its sonic boom filled the air, and brought them to their feet. Having never heard a sonic boom before, Bonnie first thought it was lightening. Corbin said he didn’t see a flash, and since the storm clouds were pretty much gone, it had to be something else, like an explosion, or something. Moments later a few more jets flew past, but this time subsonic, and more identifiable. Bonnie recorded the activity in the logbook. She didn’t know what it meant, but figured John and Pete would.

A short time later, Bonnie saw three armed men pass the house on the street. Pete told her the neighborhood was starting to patrol the area, and not to worry if she saw armed men on the street, but the horrible experience with the biker gang was fresh in her memory. There was so much blood and so much death. The sight of those armed men made her nervous, and she watched them carefully from the dark recess of the alcove that was their bunker. When the men moved past Bonnie made another entry into the logbook.

She liked working with Corbin because he didn’t talk just for the sake of talking. Like her, he was perfectly comfortable with silence. But she was very aware of his sensitivity. The tragedy of losing both parents could ruin even the strongest of children. Yet despite his trials and suffering, Corbin somehow managed to stay positive and happy, and it inspired her. At first, she didn’t like the idea of Corbin being added to their watch, but the more time she spent with him the more
she began to love and accept him as her own. Corbin wasn’t anything like her boys, but he was a really good substitute. He filled a maternal void in her that none of the other children could do, and though she had yet to fully appreciate their relationship, it would continue to grow strong.

Two more military jets screamed past overhead, but again without leaving sonic booms. “What do you think’s going on out there, Miss Bonnie?” asked Corbin.

“I don’t know. I’ve heard that kind of thing around Fort Hood on occasion, but I don’t know if it’s common up here,” she answered.

“It’s not,” replied Corbin, matter-of-factly.

Bonnie nodded and said, “At least once a month we’d hear tank and artillery training fire on Fort Hood. Sometimes it would continue late into the night . . . and shake the windows of our house, and keep me awake. It never bothered Pete though.”

“I don’t think much of anything bothers the sergeant major,” replied Corbin.

“He sure likes you,” said Bonnie.

“I like him, too,” whispered Corbin, and he rubbed his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Corbin. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset,” he replied, a bit too quickly to be anything other than sensitive. “I’m just glad I’ve got a new family now.” Corbin buried his head against his arm and Bonnie gave him a moment to collect himself while she checked the street once again. The moon, on the downside of full, provided just enough illumination through the clouds for her to notice three dogs trotting by. They were of different makes and models, and she hesitated to record it in the logbook. But then she remembered what Pete said about recording everything that was different or unusual, so she made the following entry:

01:10 / Three dogs passed the house on the street, heading east
.

Bonnie rested a hand on Corbin’s shoulder and noticed that his breathing was shallow and steady. She smiled and rubbed his back for a moment, feeling sympathy for him in ways only a mother could. She
realized everyone in the group, or ‘company’ as John liked to call it, had endured so much pain and suffering, yet they were stronger and tighter than any group of people Bonnie had ever known. She wondered if it was going to be their way of life now that everything had changed, or how long the change would last. One thing was certain for Bonnie, she was getting stronger, toughening up to meet the challenge.

John managed to wake up ten minutes before his alarm went off. Jenna stirred beside him but didn’t wake, and he realized he never heard her shift alarm go off, or Bonnie entering the room to wake her up. Either way, he didn’t like sleeping through such activity, no matter how quiet it was. He must have slept like a rock. Long ago, John prided himself on his ability to wake up with any disturbance, but apparently those days were gone. Then again, he was much more active now than before the disaster. Even counting his pre-disaster workouts, John’s new level of physical activity and exhaustion was unmatched.

After dressing and holstering his weapon, John checked in with Pete and headed to the shop to fill and start the generator. They decided to leave the bulky machine behind because it was just too troublesome. If they needed power they could use a twelve-volt car converter, or even the portable solar panel, but the generator was a fuel hog, and took up too much room, so it was staying.

Just short of reaching the shop door, John heard what sounded like dogs growling and yipping at each other. He stopped and listened, trying to place the distance and direction of the disturbance. He stepped away from the shop door and walked to the southern edge of the pool cover to stop and listen again. The sound of quarreling dogs reached his ears, and from his experience there were only two things that dogs commonly fought over, food or status. John had a sneaky suspicion he knew which of the two the dogs’ were quarreling over.

John reached for his radio and paused. Once again he didn’t have it with him, and he swore under his breath for being so careless. He knew better than to go without one, but he continued to underestimate his need to have one around the house. Still, he decided to proceed with his plan to investigate the disturbance, and quickly checked the status of his weapon.

With a flashlight off but ready in his left hand, John made his way to the edge of the property to get a better look. The sound of their quarreling grew louder, and he walked ever so slowly and softly, not wanting to surprise the dogs before he was ready to act. It sounded to him like there were two, or maybe even three dogs in the vacant lot next to his house. Though intermittent through broken clouds, the moonlight confirmed it was three dogs.

John saw two of them fighting over what looked like a stick. The third was madly digging in the dirt. With shock, mingled with mild amusement, John realized the dogs were going after the remains of the dead bikers. He considered letting them enjoy their meal, but thought better of it. It was not a good idea to let wild animals live after they’ve eaten human flesh, but it was more dangerous for domestic dogs because of their lack of fear toward humans. Dogs could become very dangerous urban predators during the survival period.

John stepped carefully over the low fence and walked slowly toward the dogs. He wanted to get as close as possible before engaging them. One of the dogs fighting over the stick dropped his end and turned to face John. It growled and looked to face him without fear, hackles up. The other dog, surprised by his unanticipated victory, squatted down in the dirt and began to gnaw away at his prize.

With a continued throaty growl, the alert dog began to slowly advance on John. John drew his pistol, set the iridium sights on the dog, and quickly calculated the trajectories for the other two dogs. As he prepared to fire, the alert dog charged. John fired off two quick shots, sure to close his eyes in order to maintain his night vision, and saw the dog drop to the ground twenty feet away. At the sound of the shots the
digging dog jumped and ran. John shot it before it made five feet, and it yelped once and dropped to the ground while trying to bite its back. The third dog, seemingly accustomed to gun shots, approached John at a trot, wagging his tail with joy. John let him approach, and shot him in the head when he was at arm’s length. He then walked over to the mortally wounded dog and shot him in the head as well.

John heard voices and looked up to see flashlights and three men running toward him. He suppressed a tactical urge to conceal himself, and waited for the security patrol to arrive. John turned his flashlight on, so as not to surprise the men, and shouted, “I’m over here!”

The three men approached John without caution, and shined their lights all over him. He shielded his eyes with his hands as the beams settled on his face. “Gentlemen, please, your lights.”

They turned their beams away, and John used his own light to identify the men without shining his light in their eyes. He recognized two of the men from the train detail, and maybe the third from the meeting, but he didn’t remember their names. “The dogs dug up one of the graves and were eating the remains,” said John. “One attacked me and I shot it . . . then I shot the others in turn. They were a danger to the neighborhood.”

“I know that dog there,” said one of the men, as his light shined on the dog at John’s feet, the one that tried to run. “He belonged to my neighbor. He’s sure not going to be happy that you shot his dog.”

John suppressed a hot flash of anger at the man’s ignorance, but he held his tongue. He shined his flashlight into the disturbed grave, and saw that the dogs had managed to remove an arm, and were working diligently to access even more of the dead biker in the grave. The other men followed John’s lead, and when they saw the disturbed grave, they offered a colorful commentary on the disturbing nature of the scene.

“That’s just the start,” said John. “When people let their dogs loose because they won’t, or can’t feed them, then the dogs will look for their own food. Their survival instincts are as real as ours. If you’re smart,
you’ll shoot every stray dog you see,” added John, and turned to walk away without another word.

Pete joined him at the fence and asked, “Is everything OK? I heard shots and got here as quickly as possible. I had you covered with those three guys though.”

“Everything’s fine. I just had to deal with some bad dogs. They dug up one of the graves and were snacking on one of the dead bikers,” said John, as he straddled the fence to complete the crossover into his own yard.

One of the three security men shined a flashlight on them and Pete snapped, “Turn that light away!”

“Sorry!” came a terse reply.

Another voice yelled, “What do we do with the dead dogs?”

“Seriously? They’re more worried about dead dogs than an open grave,” mumbled Pete. Then he yelled, “Leave ’em where they are until morning!” While waking to the shop with John, Pete asked, “Do you want me to go talk to those guys, you know, explain the situation to them?”