Jakarta Pandemic, The (46 page)

“That’s workable. We’ll eat and close the shades. Send the kids upstairs and finish cleaning up. Then what?” she asked.

“We turn off the lights downstairs; maybe keep the stove light and the mudroom bathroom light on. The interior lighting scheme on the second and third floor should stay the same throughout the night, so they can’t track our movements through the house. Turning lights off is fine, but turning lights on is not.”

“What about when we all go to bed? Won’t they know that we’ve all turned in when all of the lights are out?”

Man, she’s the perfect devil’s advocate.

“It’s not a perfect plan by any stretch. Ideally, we would keep the same lighting profile all night. We could keep one small lamp on in each bedroom all night. Shouldn’t suck too much energy out of the batteries. One on the third floor, too. Four light bulbs should be fine,” he said.

“I don’t think it’ll matter. They know we’re all gonna fall asleep eventually. I don’t think the lighting scheme will be that important. They’ll figure it out pretty quickly. We need to set up some kind of early warning system in the house, so you can wake up if something happens.”

“I wish we had a dog or an alarm system. I can set up some beer bottles or cans, but it’s no guarantee. I hate to say this, but I think I might have to change my schedule around. Nap during the day, and stay up at night. At least until they go away, or we’re pretty sure they don’t plan on trying to cut our throats in the middle of the night.”

“Do you really think they would try to break into our house? I mean, that’s crazy. What kind of psycho would do that?” she asked.

“You should see this guy. He looks like he doesn’t really need a reason to kill you. Hungry, cold… sick family? I don’t think we should take any chances. I’ll visibly wear my pistol at all times, and if I have to go outside, I’ll sling the assault rifle. I’ll take it out with me when I set up the lights a little later. If they’re watching, it might be enough of a deterrent for them.”

Kate walked over to the pantry and pulled out a large can of tuna fish, placing it near the sink.

“Maybe they’ll bother Charlie enough that he’ll just shoot them from his bedroom window,” Alex said.

“Charlie’s all talk and no action. I’m sure he’s perfectly comfortable blasting away at helpless animals, but I wouldn’t count on him to line up his crosshairs on a human.”

“He’s all we’ve got at this point.”

He walked around the island and started to pull down some plates to help with the meal. Kate opened the can with a hand operated can opener that he hadn’t seen in years.

“Where’d you find that antique?”

“Stuffed into one of the island drawers. I figured I’d get used to it,” she said and cranked at the can again, sloshing tuna can juice on the counter.

“I think we’ll be able to run the electric can opener if we need to.”

“I suppose. It just seems ridiculous not to use something like this, if we have it at our disposal. Why don’t you call Ryan down for lunch?” she suggested.

“Sure.” He kissed her on the lips, took a few steps toward the stairs, and turned back around. “You all right with all this?”

She looked down at the pistol in his hip holster. “I guess so. I haven’t seen this guy yet, but I trust your judgment. Seeing you this worried makes me pretty nervous,” she admitted.

“This guy is definitely a piece of work. We’ll be fine if we stick together and keep to our plan. Nothing to it.”

“Maybe you should go over the basics of that pistol you bought for me,” she said quietly.

“I’ll dig it up later. You can dry fire it, get used to it. That’s not a bad idea at all. You never know…”

He yelled up the stairs and heard Ryan’s faint reply from the attic.

“Here comes the tuna on crackers stampede,” Alex said.

“This is his favorite lunch. Watch.”

Two seconds later Alex heard thumping from above as Ryan hurtled down the stairs.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Saturday, November 30, 2013

Alex tipped a cold bottle of pale ale into a pint glass and stared at the golden beverage as the foam settled. He concentrated on the bubbles rising from various locations on the glass, temporarily mesmerized. His concentration was broken when Kate placed a steaming pot of spaghetti on the table in front of him. He smelled the olive oil tossed with the pasta and turned to look back into the kitchen, seeing Kate grab a large, green, ceramic bowl with oven mitts.

Careful with the sauce.

“It smells awesome, Mom,” Ryan said.

“Thank your dad for the sauce. There’s enough here for a couple days.” She cautiously edged her way over to the table.

A heavy gust of wind buffeted the house, and Alex’s mind drifted back to the windows as he took a long swig of beer. He was nervous about nightfall. The sun would set a few minutes after four, and there would be ample light outside for at least another half-hour, even under overcast skies. He wasn’t sure that sitting in the dining room together was a good idea at all, and his second beer in twenty minutes wasn’t helping to ease his anxiety.

He had expected to hear from the Mansons earlier in the afternoon, but as the afternoon grew longer, and the sky darker, he’d come to the uncomfortable conclusion that the Mansons wouldn’t tip their hand so quickly. He took another oversized swig of beer.

“No wine with your sauce?” Kate asked as she placed the bowl of sauce on one of the red placemats in the center of the table.

“No, it makes me too sleepy. Might be a long night.”

Kate got up to retrieve the bottle of red wine from the counter. Alex scanned the open windows again and swallowed hard.

I have a bad feeling. If I were the Manson’s, would go for it right now before it gets completely dark.

“You all right?” Kate asked and placed the bottle on the table with a serious look.

“I guess so…I just don’t know about this light. Something…”

“There’s still plenty of light, right?” she asked and took an unusually long sip of wine.

Alex looked at the kids, who appeared oblivious to their concerns, as they slurped down their pasta. A pile of peas, broccoli and olives grew on the corner of each of their plates.

“Eat the veggies, too, guys,” he urged.

Ryan made a weak gesture with his fork toward the veggies. Emily ignored the request altogether. Alex looked back up at Kate, smiling thinly.

“The whole neighborhood is starving, and my kids are picking at their food,” he said ruefully.

“They’ll polish it off, don’t worry.”

“Anyway, the light’s fine, but we were always cautious when the sun set. Your eyes have to constantly adjust to the changing light, and they’re easily tricked. I always felt more comfortable when the dark completely settled.”

“They’ll have the same problem,” Kate said.

Alex saw that Ryan was listening to their conversation and nodded.

“What? It’s not like you’re in a private forum,” Ryan said defensively.

“We didn’t say anything,” Kate said.

“So are we all right having dinner now?” Ryan asked.

Now Emily focused on the conversation.

Great.

Kate raised her eyebrows and gently blew air out of her mouth, which was her patented non-verbal “here we go.”

“Now that we’re all part of the conversation…let’s just finish eating and get upstairs. Everyone’s in our room tonight. All night,” Alex said.

“What?! Come on, I don’t want to sit around your room all night watching her stupid shows. Why can’t we sit on the third floor? She can watch TV on the other side,” Ryan complained.

“Then all I’ll hear is your stupid machine gun games,” Emily whined back.

“I’ll use headphones,” he said.

“Is anyone still playing online?” Kate asked.

“Earlier in the month it slowed down a lot, but it’s starting to pick back up again. A bunch of my friends are on, and they’re fine,” he told her.

“Good, let’s finish eating, so we can close up down here and…”

Alex’s sentence was interrupted by a hard knock on the mudroom door. “Everyone upstairs immediately. Let’s go,” he barked as he slammed down the half empty pint glass.

He shot up from the table and moved over toward the refrigerator, ensuring his pistol was in his hip holster and grabbing the M-4 assault rifle leaned up against the kitchen desk. He pulled the bolt handle back and let it slap forward, chambering a round. He checked the safety and slung it over his back, edging over to the doorway and peeking through the mudroom at the door. He met Manson’s lifeless eyes.

“I thought we were done here,” Alex yelled.

“You gonna open the door and talk to me civilized?” the man said, again never blinking.

“No. You need to move along,” Alex said, as a powerful burst of wind filled the mudroom stoop and buffeted the man standing there.

“There hasn’t been a lot of help for us around here. Fucking rude ass people mostly…”

“I hear it’s a lot friendlier up north.” He stepped into full view of the man.

Alex noticed a slight change in the man’s eyes as he registered both the hip holster and the rifle.

“Who is it, Alex?” Kate yelled from the kitchen.

“Nobody we know. Just some drifters. You should head upstairs,” he said firmly, but calmly, feeling composed and in control of the situation. Openly carrying these two weapons reminded him of an era filled with supreme confidence. Only body armor, a helmet and immediate access to a dozen similarly equipped marines could boost him up higher.

“Don’t you think that’s a little overkill?” the man yelled, nodding toward Alex.

“Not in my experience,” he replied.

The man momentarily laughed under his breath. “And what experience might that be?” he demanded.

“Enough to know that your arrival here is bad news. You guys aren’t planning on shooting out all of the streetlights, are you?”

The man snickered at the comment. “Look, I know you’re holding out on me. Your good friend Todd told us you have a ton of food stored away in there and that you’ve been handing it out to some of the neighbors.” He glanced over his shoulder at another man who suddenly appeared on the sidewalk in front of Alex’s house, near the driveway.

“We just want our cut of this charity, and we won’t bother you after that. We’ve got two families, so we’ll need at least…”

Alex’s glance drifted to the man near the street. Same type of clothes, hats, shoes.

Something’s off. Shit. It’s not the same guy I saw before. No long hair. Stay calm. There might be another guy out there.

Suddenly he didn’t feel very secure. Behind the door, he couldn’t see below Manson’s mid-stomach, or below his elbows.

The guy could be holding a sawed-off shotgun down low, and I’d never be able to react in time.

His eyes darted out beyond Manson and the man on the sidewalk, to the numerous bushes and evergreen trees within view across the street.

The other guy could be sighting in on my head right now.

He glanced back into the library, at the window.
Or hop up on the bulkhead door under the window and blast my head off.
Alex felt queasy, but maintained his posture and focus. He reached back without looking and closed the door to the library. He glanced through the kitchen at the family room.

They could blast me through one of the side family room windows from here.

All of his attention was focused on the front door. Alex couldn’t believe he had made such an elementary mistake. He stepped forward into the mudroom, eliminating the great room windows as an opportunity to take him down, and refocused on what the man was saying.

Something about getting his share of the bounty?

“I gave away all I had to spare. That’s it. I need you to get the fuck out of here. Now!” he shouted.

“That’s bullshit! You got plenty hidden in there…” the man started, with his right hand pointed accusingly at Alex.

“Someone’s in the backyard!” a panicked voice screamed from deep inside the house.

He instinctively slung the rifle around with his left hand, twisting his body slightly to the right. The AR-15 rifle pointed high on the man’s chest within the barely discernable flash of a second, and he disengaged the safety before the barrel settled. The man grinned, showing his brown-stained teeth. Alex could see what looked like blackened decay on one of his incisors.

“Get him around front where I can see him, or I’ll kill you where you stand!” Alex hissed. “Ten seconds! Ten…nine…eight…”

The man raised his hands to his mouth, and Alex almost pulled the trigger. He took a few shallow, controlled breaths, and eased all pressure off the trigger, shocked at how far he had involuntarily pulled it. The man whistled three times, three short, sharp whistles.

“…seven…six…five…”

“He’s running around front!” Kate yelled from somewhere near the top of the stairs.

Alex kept his own focus just to the side of the scope. At this range, he wouldn’t miss, even without sighting in. The man stared at him impassively.

“…four…three…”

Before Alex reached “two,” Manson barked something toward the driveway, and the third man suddenly appeared. Manson yelled for him to join “Rick,” and Alex watched as the third man walked over to “Rick” near the top of the driveway. The man tried hard to conceal a weapon on the right side by his body. Alex couldn’t determine the weapon type, but guessed it to be a modified shotgun, with either a shortened barrel or no shoulder stock.

The phone rang and he ignored it. He needed to focus on the man standing on his mudroom stoop.

“Charlie Thornton’s calling!” he heard from upstairs.

“See what he wants!” he yelled back, shifting his gaze from the man on his porch to the two men standing on his sidewalk.

“He says the man that just ran out has a shotgun!”

The man on the porch didn’t appear to have heard her and continued to stare at Alex.

This guy’s fucking crazy.

“You gonna quit pointing that thing at me?” Manson grunted.