Will to Survive (11 page)

“I agree,” my mom said. “And let's get Howie stationed with a team at the northeast corner.”

As my mother repeated that order into her walkie-talkie, I realized what they were thinking: this could be nothing more than a distraction—a prelude to a full-out attack that would come at another part of the neighborhood. That's why they were sending Howie to the exact opposite side from where the gunfire was coming.

The siren stopped and the silence was welcome, like music to our ears. And then the new signal started, a short blast every five seconds, to summon all able-bodied neighbors out of their beds and onto assigned posts on the walls around the entire perimeter. I could only imagine how frightened people were right now, knowing we were under threat of attack.

I followed my parents and Herb as they went through a passageway between two of the stores, leading out to the front of the stores, to the parking lot. We moved to avoid open spaces or any other spot where we could see the condo tower—or where anyone in those windows could see us. We finally got to the outer wall.

Three more shots rang out. I pressed myself against the wall and froze—even though I was under cover. My dad put a comforting hand on my shoulder and I forced myself to take a deep breath. I couldn't afford to panic right now.

My mother worked to calm the guards while she and Herb asked questions and tried to gather information. Three of our men had been gunned down—the third when he tried to go out and assist the first one who had been shot. All three were dead.

“Are you sure the shots came from the tower?” Herb asked me.

“I saw muzzle flashes from several different spots over there, but that doesn't mean they aren't positioned elsewhere as well.”

“That's an incredible shot,” Herb commented. “You'd need to be a trained marksman with a sniper rifle.”

“Do you think it's shooters from the Division?” I asked.

“We can't know for certain, but they would have that capacity, I'm sure,” Mom said.

“And you think there's possibly going to be an attack and it's going to come from the opposite side?” my dad asked.

Herb shrugged his shoulders. “That would be the logical place if an attack
was
going to happen.”

Another shot rang out and the front window of the clinic shattered. We had to hope that whoever was in there had taken cover in the back.

“Do you want me to lead an away team out to the condo tower?” my father asked.

My mother jumped in quickly. “It's too dangerous, honey. We don't know how many of them are out there.”

Herb nodded. “This could be nothing more than a trap to get a team or two out there and then ambush them. It's better to have our guns on the wall.”

“Then what should we do?” my father asked.

“I think we're doing it. Man the walls, stay low and in the shadows, and wait for the morning,” Herb said.

“And then in the light of day we reassess and make some decisions,” my mother said.

*   *   *

A few hours later, I was sitting in the Petersons' kitchen. It was still dark out.

“Hold still,” Mrs. Peterson said to Lori as she disinfected the scrapes on the left side of her face.

“Does it hurt bad?” I asked.

“Not nearly as much as a bullet wound would have.”

“I should have spun or something so I landed on the bottom.”

“Remember that the next time.” She reached out and took my hand. The knuckles on my left hand had also been scraped by the gravel. Lori lifted up my hand and looked at the scrapes with concern.

Mrs. Peterson finished with Lori and then put the same disinfectant on my hand. It stung and I flinched.

What I hadn't told Lori or her mother was that I'd all but forgotten about her up there on the roof for over an hour after I'd left her. I was so occupied by the flying bullets and the things my mother and Herb were discussing that she'd slipped out of my mind. Finally, when I remembered, I'd gone back to the roof but by that time she'd already left and gone home. That's where I found her. She didn't say anything about it, but I still felt bad. First for forgetting her and second for not telling her I'd forgotten. It was lying by not saying.

“And thanks for taking care of my brother and sister,” I said to Mrs. Peterson. The twins were in the Petersons' living room, sleeping on the couch.

“No need to thank me for that,” said Mrs. Peterson.

There was now a system in place that when both parents in a household were part of the reserve team called to defend the walls, their children were taken into an appointed house to be cared for. At the first blast of the siren, Mrs. Peterson would have come over to our place to fetch the twins. I felt secure knowing that Danny and Rachel were now in the Peterson home. Mrs. Peterson had a rifle and knew how to use it. She was the one who'd taught Lori how to shoot.

“So what happens now?” Lori asked.

“We wait,” I said.

“Do you think we're going to be attacked?” her mom asked.

“If we are, we can defend ourselves.” I could tell from Mrs. Peterson's expression that she was thinking of her husband, who was on duty on the west wall.

What I didn't say was that our ability to defend ourselves was dependent on the type of force being applied. Our walls were strong but couldn't withstand a hit from a rocket-propelled grenade. Or an attack by a much larger force. We had close to 250 people with weapons on the walls, but 500 men with better weapons could easily breach the walls and overwhelm us.

“We'll be fine,” I said. I knew I was speaking to myself as well as to Lori and her mother. “I have to go.”

“Are you going up in the air?” Mrs. Peterson asked.

“Not for at least another few hours. I'll have to wait until light.”

“I thought you were sitting it out for a while,” Lori said.

“There's no choice. The Cessna can't take off because it needs a long runway and Erin Mills Parkway isn't secure. I'm the best pilot with the ultralight.”

“I just want you to be careful,” Lori said. And right there, in front of her mother, she reached up and kissed me.

 

11

Just a few hours later, I was back in the ultralight, Todd beside me. We rumbled down my street and then quickly lifted off.

I kept the throttle wide open and pulled back hard on the stick to gain as much elevation as I could as quickly as I could. We were a small and fast-moving target, but we were still a target.

Once we went above the electric towers I banked sharply to the right.

Todd groaned into his headset.

“I should have told you,” I said. “Be prepared for lots of tight maneuvers. I'm going to be taking evasive action during the whole flight.”

“Evading what, me keeping my breakfast down?”

“Yes, and I want to make it hard for somebody to take aim at us.”

“I'd rather you make it
impossible
.”

“I'll do my best.”

We were going to make a big circular pass around the entire neighborhood, scouting for trouble from below, and then come at the condo tower from the far side. There was low cloud cover, and visibility was limited to less than two or three miles—less than I would have ideally liked—but fine for what we needed to see today.

Meanwhile, on the ground, two of our away teams had already been dispatched and were scouting the two different frontal approaches to the tower. Then they were going to loop around and come at the building from behind. Each team had ten men. My father was leading one of them.

Once they were in place to attack and I'd reported in, our main assault groups were going to come out of both the Burnham and Erin Mills gates and meet at the tower by the two different frontal routes.

“Do you see anything?” I asked as we dipped again.

“A few more sudden drops like that and you really are going to be seeing my breakfast come up.”

“If that does happen, just lean over the side, okay?” I said. “It'll be like dropping a dirty bomb.”

“Very sympathetic, very caring,” he joked. “I expect better from you. You've become hard and unfeeling.”

“Actually those last couple of dips weren't something I did.”

“Well it certainly wasn't
me
,” Todd said.

“I can't always guarantee flat air.”

Todd scanned the ground with binoculars and I looked over the other side. I couldn't see anything. Not that I could possibly pick out a couple of people—or even a couple of dozen. I knew our crew was down there hiding among the trees and brush, or among the houses in the surrounding streets, but I couldn't see them. Todd and I were looking for something larger and more dangerous, like dozens of vehicles coming along toward us. That was something we would be able to see.

I continued to circle. I was traveling in the direction that put Todd and his binoculars on the outside where he could see everything better. On my side, I could see the neighborhood. Clustered on the inside of the two gates were convoys of vehicles and armed reservists ready to head to the tower when they were given the signal.

“Anything at all?” I asked Todd.

“Nothing, but that doesn't mean there isn't something. I just wouldn't want to miss something and put people at risk,” he said.

“It's not just you—it's the two of us who are observing. I'm going to circle the condos now.”

I banked sharply to the right and we quickly approached the tower. I was now going to circle with Todd on the inside of the curve so that he was closer to the tower. It was a tall building—twenty-two stories—and held the high ground over our neighborhood. We'd known all along that that could be a problem, and the proof had come last night.

The building had been secretly set on fire by Brett several weeks ago because he said he thought it was best for the neighborhood to destroy it—never mind the innocent people who were living there, struggling to survive. However, his fire had damaged only part of the building.

“If there's a sniper in there, isn't he going to take a shot at us?” Todd asked.

“That's why I'm taking a wide pass. What do you see?”

“I see a lot of burned-out apartments and blown-out windows. I can't believe people are still living there after the fire.”

“I guess they remained because they didn't think they had any better place to go.”

“How are they even surviving?” Todd asked.

“They must be scavenging from the area, living hand to mouth,” I said.

“And what are they going to do when winter comes?”

“I don't know.” Actually I did. They were going to die of starvation or exposure. “Do you see anybody?” I asked.

“Nothing, not in any of the units or at the bottom of the tower itself.”

“Good, I'm going to let them know that it's a go.”

I took the walkie-talkie from the compartment by my feet and gave the all clear.

Almost instantly our gates opened and both convoys sped out toward the tower.

We kept on circling, watching as the groups raced ahead. If something was going to happen, it was going to happen soon.

“Wait,” Todd said. “There's a group of men coming out of the trees just beside the tower and they're armed and … Wait again, I think it's our people.”

“
Think
isn't good enough. Where are they?”

“That way, there,” Todd said, pointing off to the side.

I hit the rudder hard to cut us in that direction and pushed back on the stick to drop down to get a better view. “Can you still see them?”

“I got 'em … There are eight or maybe ten … They're heading for the apartment … They're our guys! I recognize your father!”

I pulled up on the stick and we soared over top of the group. They waved at us as we passed.

Hitting the rudder hard again, I put us once more in a circuit around the tower. We watched as first one convoy, then the second, and my father's team all reached the base of the apartment at almost the same time. It had all happened without any shots being fired. Whoever had fired at us the night before had fled—unless they were holed up in there, hiding.

Now that we'd reached the building we'd have to do a full search, unit by unit, to make sure the only people there were just the residents and were no part of the threat.

“I have to hand it to your father,” Todd said. “If I had gone through all of what happened to him, I don't think I'd ever want to leave the safety of the neighborhood again to go anywhere.”

“He's just doing what he knows is needed,” I said.

“Still, it must be hard.”

I knew it was. His sleep trouble was worse than mine. He was nervous and jumpy. It had been awful out there for him, walking halfway across the continent to get back home. Even though he'd done it, it still just didn't sound real.

I guess on some level I wanted to believe that he was all right, because he was my father and he'd always been all right, always been in charge, confident, capable. He was trying to put that front forward now for our sake, but you could see the real story in his eyes when he didn't know he was being looked at. He was still scared, and his fear didn't seem to be fading.

I put my head back into the mission. Getting lost in thought could get us killed.

“So even if we don't find anybody now, what's to stop them from coming back again tonight?” Todd asked.

I hadn't thought about that. What would stop the snipers from being there tonight or a week from now? What could the committee do about it? I wasn't sure, but I figured that none of the alternatives would be good. It was only a question of how bad the choice was we'd have to make.

*   *   *

That afternoon, the committee gathered in our kitchen—Judge Roberts, Dr. Morgan, Mr. Peterson, Mr. Nicholas, Councilwoman Stevens, Ernie, Howie, Herb, and my mom.