The State (6 page)

CHAPTER 8

The Tiller Farm

Ian had only been asleep ninety minutes by the time Grace knocked on his door.

“Mom, Dad,” she said quietly at the door, trying to get them to wake up.

Leah came to the door.  She was dressed in black fatigue pants and one of Violet Tiller’s older tee shirts; the shirt was large on her.

“Hey, what’s up,” she said, still trying to clear her eyes. 

“You’re up?” Grace asked surprised.

“Dad told me you two relieved him early, so I thought I would do the same for you,” she said, with a motherly tone.

“Thanks.  Okay,” Grace shifted gears.  “Joshua and I heard something outside of the back of the stable, so we thought we’d check it out.  He thinks there are one, if not two people between the back of the barn and the ridge top.”

Leah looked over Grace’s shoulder to Joshua.  She had only known the boy for two days, but she had observed that his instincts were precise, and his ability to assess a situation had been spot on.  In short, if Joshua thinks there are people on the ridge, then, there are people on the ridge.

“Okay, wake the others.  Let’s see what we’re dealing with,” she ordered.

Grace pulled off the windbreaker that Joshua had giver her and started to unstrap the bulletproof vest.

“No,” Leah said, putting her hand on her daughter’s shoulder.  “I want you to wear it.”

“But, it’s your vest,” she protested.

“Not any more,” she said, kissing the forehead of her daughter.

“Thanks, Mom,”

“You bet,” Leah said, turning back into her room to wake her husband.

Ian met her at the door.  “I heard the tone of your voice and decided to get up,” he said pulling a shirt over his chest.  “What’s up?”

“The kids thought they saw people on the ridge a few minutes ago,” Leah reported as she strapped on her weaponry. 

“Roger that,” Ian said.  “Are they waking the others?”

“Yes.”

Ian stepped to the side of one of the windows, mindful that someone was probably peering at the house through binoculars or worse, a riflescope.  He then gently lifted one of the blinds to see what he could see. “I think this is going to be a long day,” he said, seeing nothing but the first rays of the morning sun blotting out the darkness of the blue and black sky.

Ten minutes later, the group was dressed, armed and nervous.  They filled the Tiller family’s living room, sitting where they could, or using walls to prop themselves up. Ian took a moment to survey the group of
soldiers.
This would be their first engagement as a collective, and he was the defacto leader.

Grace sat to one side of the family couch.  She was gently scratching behind Daisy’s ears.  The dog had been given permission to curl up on the dark leather couch and seemed to love the attention and the leather.  As far as Daisy was concerned, everyone was there to see her.

Grace’s adrenalin level was still peaked from the earlier encounter.  The dog was helping her settle down, and so was the water she was sipping on, in between ear scratches to the dog.  Grace anchored one hand on the neck of the bulletproof vest that she was wearing in an attempt to keep it from riding up on her throat.  It looked uncomfortable, but she wasn’t complaining.

Joshua stood behind the couch, in a spot close to Grace.  There was calmness about his mood.  Ian watched him watching the others.  The collective nervousness did not seem to faze the boy.  His rifle was slung across his back, barrel pointed down, and his arms were crossed.  He looked ready to execute any order handed down without question.  Ian respected that; it was the type of approach that he looked for from his field officers.

Mary stood by the door, a place that she often found herself.  Since the plane crash and the Airstream, Ian had noted that she would often scope out the exits of any room she walked into.  Seemingly pleased with her escape route close by, she was typically quiet except for the fact that she kept bouncing her fingers off of her leg like she was playing air-drums to a RUSH song.  Ian looked at her eyes, but she was staring off into the distance and did not meet his glance.  Her mind seemed to be somewhere else as her head bobbed to the beat she was keeping with her fingers.  Occasionally she would tap the metallic steel of the rifle slung around her shoulder to add the clink of a mock symbol to her own personal concert.

Ian now focused across the room.  Anna was visibly nervous, sitting next to Adam on the love seat.  Her eyes looked lost, unfocused.  The bruise on her face had given way to dark bags that hung from beneath her eyes; it was obvious that she was not sleeping.  Anna had been one of Grace’s closest friends over the last five years, and Ian never remembered the girl looking quite this disheveled.  He knew about the situation with her parents and what she and Grace had gone through to get out of the city; he hoped that she would be able to control the adrenalin rollercoaster that had become life.  For now, she seemed to be handling it, as she by bounced her foot up and down on the hardwood floor while clutching at a small fanny pack with a red cross stitched on the outside.  Evolving into the group’s field medic was the only thing that gave her purpose. 

Adam’s demeanor was less nervous than Anna.  If anything, he seemed angry.  The boy had watched his Scoutmaster die, had a gun held to his head, and had stabbed an enemy soldier.  Adam had almost paid the ultimate price after taking a bullet by that same enemy.  His wounds were raw, but healing quickly; thanks to his youthfulness and the medical attention he was receiving.  He was eager to be part of the action, so once everyone was woken up for the meeting, he donned his own equipment, almost daring anyone to stop him. What the group couldn’t see was the interlacing of fingers between Adam and Anna, hidden by gear and the nearness of their bodies.

Leah sat back from Ian a few feet.  She visually tried to separate herself from him during times where he had to give orders to other people.  She wanted everyone to see that she could take the orders like they could.  The behavior was modeled after a psychological ploy used by the CIA, when groups were thrown together as unlikely allies.  Ian knew what she was doing and agreed wholeheartedly with her action.    He needed her to be able to move freely within the group so that they could make the right strategic decisions based on the information that she learned.

Bob and Violet rounded out the assembly.  Bob was sitting in his well-worn recliner chair.   Pain etched along the lines of his face; he looked pale at best.  His own gunshot wounds were taking much longer to heal than that of his son.  But, in true Marine fashion, he was there, engaged and willing to do whatever was necessary to protect his family.  Bob had assumed a second in command type of role, and was willing to do anything to protect his family, and now, Ian’s family too.

Bob’s wife Violet was the glue that held the Tiller family together.  She always appeared ready and calm.  Years of emergency room rounds at the hospital giving her the ability to focus her emotion into action, and compartmentalize the reality into a place that would haunt her in her dreams…something that good soldiers, and ER nurses learn to do as part of the job.

Before Ian spoke, he acknowledged to himself that they had probably let a number of security protocols slip.  He could blame how tired he was, or the emotion of almost loosing his family, but at the end of the day, he had been through worse, and he had let his training slip.  He vowed not to let that happen again.  This group was all that stood between an invading force, Freakers, and the survival of the Tiller and Burrows families.

“It’s been 15 minutes,” Leah quietly said to Ian, snapping him from his own mental game prep.  No one else knew that she had spoken.

Ian knew what 15 minutes meant.  It was how long they had gone since spotting the enemy, or with a reaction.  Fifteen minutes was a benchmark to the readiness of any fighting force; if they couldn’t get it right in that time, then, well, they were open to a well-organized attack. 

It was time to motivate the team.  

Ian looked around one more time, satisfied that the group was as ready as they were going to be.  He cleared his throat, and then took command. 

“Alright, we need to know what we are dealing with.  Joshua, why don’t you give us a rundown of what happened.”

Joshua shifted his weight on his legs.  He had not expected to be called out.  The move bought him an extra second or two before he had to speak.

“Yes, sir,” he started.  “We were in the barn and we heard what sounded like someone stumbling outside of the stable.  So, we extinguished the light, and…”

“Don’t use the light again,” Leah said, her tone motherly, not overtly commanding, but it held the same weight.

“Got it,” Grace answered for the pair.

“So,” Joshua continued.  “We went out looking for the cause of the noise.  Grace was along the tree line at the back of the stables and I was along the fence line, and then I saw a flash of a riflescope on the hill.  It reflected the moon, he must have shifted it up in the air or something, but I saw the moonlight reflected in the woods as clear as day.”

“Roger that,” Ian added.  “What else did you see?”

“When he moved, I saw his silhouette behind some rocks,” Joshua said, surprising himself with the clarity of his observation.   “I am familiar with the rocks and know their shape, so I am certain that’s were he was hiding.”

“Did you see any others?” Bob asked, trying to hide the pain from his demeanor.

“No, Dad, I didn’t, but when I think back on it, he wasn’t holding the rifle right.”

“What does that mean?” His father asked.  “Like he was injured?”  Bob was a Marine sniper, and knew the poses of a sniper better than anyone in the room.

The room was quiet.  All eyes looked at Joshua.  Mary stopped patting her leg.

“Maybe,” Joshua offered.  “It was like he was holding his stock shoulder lower.  I could see it in the moon light.”

“I bet he’s been shot in the shoulder,” Bob offered to the group.  “There’s no other reason for a soldier to hold their shoulder up like that.  Probably has it in a sling.”

Ian listened, and then nodded.  He agreed.   “That’s real good, Joshua.”

“What do you want to do, Cap?” Bob asked from his leather chair.

Ian was about to answer him, when Daisy stood up, whined and then sat back down.  Her posture was that of a statue.

Ian looked back at Leah, who looked up at him.  She was processing just what the dog’s action meant, when a faint noise infiltrated the room from outside. 

“She heard it first,” Leah said, standing.  “It sounds like…”

“A drone,” Mary said, her affect was calm, considering her last two encounters with the SUV size killers.  Something had truly changed in her.

  “I agree,” Ian said, nodding.  “Alright, we don’t know much, and we don’t have time to get into positions.  Our friend on the hill might have called this thing in.  Bob,” he said, looking at the Marine.  “We should go into your bunker until this thing passes.”

Bob was moving to stand, with great pain, before he answered.  “I agree.  Alright family, lets get down there,” he said, still trying to protect his family.

Ian watched everyone go in, he was the last, with Leah just in front of him.  She sensed that he was not moving with purpose. 

“Ian, let’s go.”

“We need eyes on what ever that is,” he said, his voice was tender and spoken in a whisper.

“I’ll come with you,” she said, taking a step up on the stairs.

“No, you should stay with Grace.”  He was not commanding, but he asked in a direct tone, nonetheless.

She stopped, looked up to his face and nodded. “Okay, just this once.  There’s no reason we can’t share the risk.”  She did not wait for a response and turned around to descend the rest of the stairs into the bunker.

Ian closed the metal door and sealed it from the outside.  While he walked to the front door, he charged his first round into the chamber of the Chinese rifle he had taken off of one of the dead soldiers at the pipeline terminal.  Taking a long slow breath, he then cracked the door open slowly.

The cool morning air spilled in, as did the sound of the drone.  It was getting closer.  Ian slipped out onto the front porch and put his back against the front wall.  The noise was coming from the east, but so was the rising sun.  The low rays of the brilliant sun blinded him from pinpointing the source of the sound.  He slowly shielded his eyes with the cup of his hand, careful of any sudden moves, and scouted the sky.

The buzzing grew louder by the second.

It could have taken me out by now,
he thought to himself.

The noise was right over the house, and then it passed over.  As he shifted his position to look in the other direction, he caught the blue blinking on his watch. 

Damn!  That’s one of ours!

Ian pulled the crown of his watch out to the fourth position and turned it counter clockwise, to acknowledge the satellite ping on his watch.  Within seconds, the drone changed course.  Ian stepped out from the protection of the front porch and looked directly at the drone as it turned.  It was low, less than a thousand feet, and was headed right towards him.