Apache Dawn, - [little bear else holmelund minarik txt] 📗

equipment, emergency food, and even power generators to Queens, an area especially hard-hit. Even in Boston, where our German friends are assembling, the relief is quickly flowing. This crisis is a true example of how the nations of the civilized world can and will help each other in times of need.”

“Madam Secretary, what can you tell us about reports of paratroopers landing hundreds of miles from the coast in South Carolina, setting up roadblocks and cordoning off government buildings? We’ve had word that Russian soldiers were threatening American citizens who attempted to contact their state representatives. Can you comment on this?”

There was a pause on the phone and the screen flickered momentarily in static. Denny hoped it would hold steady for the Secretary of State’s answer.

“I think that the good people of South Carolina are very happy with the help our friends from Russia have provided. Food, medicine, power—”

“But these reports of Russian soldiers waving machine guns at—”

“Alice, let me finish, please. These reports, I think when it’s all said and done, will be nothing more than the fantasies of some bored people who want to make a name for themselves. It’s utter hogwash. My counterpart in the Russian Federation has assured me, just this morning, that there are no Russian forces outside of Charleston, at this time.”

“So you’re denying the multiple reports—”

“Of course! There is nothing to worry about. President Barron himself invited the W.H.O. and its accompanying security forces to assist us with making this country safe and helping us to fight this—”

Static returned and killed the transmission. Denny sighed again and turned back to his arrow shafts, his mind troubled. Another shaft finished, he reached for a third, glancing at the television.

The little handheld Garmin Rhino radio/GPS unit his neighbor John had given him two days ago broke squelch. “You watching TV?”

Denny picked up the black radio and pushed the transmit button carefully. He’d never used this type of two-way radio before—he’d always used his cell phone. But lately, cell reception seemed to have vanished, or replaced with a computerized message that said, Due to unusually high call volume, this network is down. Please try your call again later.

“Yes, I was. Until I lost the signal again.”

“I think you’d better come over.”

Denny looked at the pile of unfinished arrows on the floor. He was about to sigh and make a comment about his Mormon neighbor being paranoid, but then the confrontation with his students flashed back in his mind. The world was changing.

Two weeks ago, he would’ve laughed at John’s urging him to retreat into their bunker. Two weeks ago, he wouldn’t have thought he’d have to put his tomahawk against a high school student’s neck to keep him from killing his elderly neighbor. Two weeks ago, people weren’t dying of some super flu—again.

Two weeks ago, the nation wasn’t at war.

“Okay,” he said. The power flickered, causing the TV to shut off, as if to validate the ominous tone of John’s voice.

It wasn’t hard to lock up the house and head across the yard. The night that he’d confronted Jeb Townsend, Denny had a premonition that the hothead and his father would come looking for retribution. The easiest target was his truck, parked out in the open on the driveway slab. Therefore, the day after the incident, he'd pulled his truck around behind the house and backed it up to a back door off the living room.

The truck was currently parked there, next to some big pines along the back of his house and up under a metal, open-enclosure garage roof. It was completely hidden from the street.

He checked the lock on the front door again and made sure the windows were locked and the curtains were drawn tight in the windows facing the street. Since the power had been going on and off at random for the last few days, he had simply left everything off and unplugged. He hoped that made his house look deserted. Maybe it would encourage Jeb and his friends to look elsewhere for trouble.

Walking back through the kitchen, he paused long enough to shut off the TV, blow out the candle on the table and pick up his tomahawk. Once slipped onto his belt, he picked up the radio, clipped it on the other side of his waist, and headed out the back kitchen door.

A plan had been evolving in his head lately, to load up his truck with all the gear he needed and head up into the foothills of the Bitterroot Mountains, directly west of his house. It would be a simple thing, he thought as he crossed the yard. Just load up and drive away from the chaos that was enveloping Salmon Falls.

He stepped on a fallen pine tree twig and paused at the loud sound. The snow from the early storm last weekend had long ago melted, but the ground was still cold and beginning its long sleep for the coming winter. Moving quickly, he crossed the side yard and arrived at the backdoor to the Andertons’ house.

John was there, waiting for him. “We need to talk.” He ushered his neighbor over to the kitchen table. Ruth was busy preparing a meal from what looked like a half-dozen cookbooks spread out on the counter.

“Hello, Denny!” she said with a bright smile and came across the room to smother him in a grandmotherly hug. “I’m just fixing an early supper. Won’t you join us?”

Before Denny could do anything but smile, she turned, nodding and humming to herself. “Of course you will. I’m making my world famous kitchen sink chili and cornbread!”

Denny sat down in the proffered chair and accepted a glass of ice water. He raised an eyebrow at John. “It’s because she puts everything in it but the kitchen sink,” the old man laughed. “It’s a ritual she goes through. Every time there’s a blizzard, ice storm, or new baby, she makes a huge batch of this chili, using everything she can get her hands on—”

“That’s right,” she said, nodding her plump, smiling face. Her hair was silver-gray and coiled neatly in a tight, proper-looking bun on the back of her head. The laugh-lines around her eyes made her look like an off-duty Mrs. Claus, Denny thought, hiding a smile.

She nodded again to herself and went back to mixing in the big silver cauldron on the stove. Over her shoulder, she said, “You never know in one of those situations when you’re going to have time to eat, or if your power will go off and you’ll lose the food in your fridge. This solves both problems. Ready when you are to heat it up and eat, and uses up a little of everything so you don’t lose it all in a power outage.”

“Anyway,” John said, turning back in his seat to face Denny, “I asked you over here to see if you’ve changed your mind.”

“I haven’t, John,” said Denny, shaking his head. “I’m not made to hide under the ground. No offense,” he said quickly.

John raised his hands. “None taken. I’m too old to go tromping off into the woods, hunting and fishing.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Besides, maybe this will work out for both of us. With that radio I gave you, I can feed you information and you can keep an eye on things topside for us.”

Denny nodded. “That’s what I thought. But…”

“But you’re wondering why I asked you over here.” The old man sighed. “I think something bad is coming.”

“What do you mean?” Denny asked over the top of his glass.

“You remember the smoke we saw yesterday?”

“Yes,” said Denny. He remembered seeing a dark smudge on the horizon, topped by a large plume of smoke to the northeast, in the direction of the main part of town.

“It was the school and City Hall.”

“What?” Denny said, sitting up. “Who—how?”

John shook his head. “I don’t know, but a HAM friend of mine on the other side of town could see it burning and called me just now. He could see from his ranch a group of people heading from the school to City Hall, and then on down Main Street.”

“Doesn’t make any sense,” Denny said quietly.

“I think we know who was behind it.”

“You think the Townsend boy—”

“I think it’s his father,” said John with a knowing look. “He’s the town drunk; you said it yourself. He’s always been a rabble-rouser and since he was laid-off last year, he’s been out of work and looking for something to do.” The old man took a sip of his own water. “I don’t know. But, it sure wouldn’t surprise me.”

“What about Sheriff Bridger?”

“From what I hear, he’s got the new super flu. Sounds like some of the kids from the school have actually died. Now their families are sick. It’s just horrible.”

“Oh no,” Denny whispered. “Bob was right—” He saw the questioning look on his neighbor’s face. “The principal. He thought the kids from the sophomore class brought the flu back from California last week. He had to close school that first day.” He shook his head again. “This is going to be bad, John.”

“Don’t I know it. HAMs all over the country are reporting how serious it’s getting. There’s bodies in the streets in Chicago and New York. Can you believe it? It’s like…” John paused, looking ashamed. “I’m sorry, Denny, I know how you lost Emily in The Pandemic. This has got to be hard on you.”

Denny was quiet a moment. Then, softly, he spoke, “It’s okay, John. I made my peace with her a long time ago.”

John nodded.