The old man stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the pistol. After a moment he said, “I’m the neighbor.”
“Shut the door, lock it, and put up your hands,” commanded Upton, pissed at himself for falling asleep.
The man complied and then, with raised hands, jingled a set of keys. “I was checking on Rachel and Todd. My house is right behind the fence. They gave me a set while they’re gone. I’m not trying to steal anything.”
“Rachel and Todd aren’t home,” said Upton.
The man nodded. “Well, I’m just making sure everything is okay.”
Unsure, Upton hesitated. The painkillers, sleep deprivation, and the soft couch had overwhelmed his ability to stay awake. Now, he had a problem. But the old man seemed harmless. Upton lowered the pistol. “I don’t intend on shooting anyone without cause.”
“Good,” said the man, his arms in the air. “I appreciate that.”
Upton considered his options. He’d need to learn more before deciding. “Go ahead and drop your hands. Let’s sit down, and I’ll try to explain. And please keep your voice lowered.” With a struggle, ribs hurting, Upton left the couch and waved his pistol towards an oak table in the adjoining dining room.
The man dropped his hands and in a slow amble crossed the dining room and sat down. On the opposite side, Upton slid out a chair, laid his M18 on the tablecloth, and with aching ribs, sat on a soft cushion.
Tanned with deep wrinkles and watery brown eyes, the old man asked, “Who are you?”
“My name is Upton.”
The old guy looked around the room, then turned to Upton. “You’re a soldier, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” said Upton, coming to grips with being discovered.
“Makes sense. Your clothes, that helmet-looking thing sitting on the floor next to the couch, your gun, what happened yesterday. It adds up,” said the old man.
Upton looked down at his own fatigue pants and the dark sweater he wore taken from the master closet. There was no reason to lie. “I’m a master sergeant in the ROAS Army of Defense.”
“You’re hiding?” asked the old man.
“Yes.”
“You were in the fight yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“Wow!” said the man. He leaned back and introduced himself. “Russel, Rus Jarvis. I’m a retired widower. My house is right behind this one. When Rachel and Todd evacuated, a day after the US Army showed up, they asked me to keep an eye on their place. They knew I wouldn’t leave. Sometimes we BBQ together. Me and Todd play a little golf.”
“Got it,” said Upton.
“Why are you hiding?” asked Russel.
“You know what happened yesterday?” asked Upton.
Russel nodded, “Yeah, a big fight broke out. Hell, my house shook to the foundation. I expected the windows to burst at any moment. I spent most of the time crouched in the hallway closet. Then the power failed and hasn’t returned. After the shooting stopped, I no longer had internet or cell service. Outside I saw smoke rising from the border crossing. To find out what was happening, I dug out my emergency satellite radio from the garage and listened to the Truth. I learned the US won the battle. Right after dark, they flew a helicopter over the neighborhood. On a loudspeaker, they told everyone to stay inside. Curfew and martial law was in effect. Anyone caught outside after dark would be considered a looter and be shot.”
“Have you heard anymore?” asked Upton. Hungry for news, he was also worried US soldiers would be returning. As a hiding place, the house contained drawbacks. There were only a couple of ways out, and he considered the place a trap.
“Well, yeah. The US kicked butt and wiped out an entire ROAS battalion. Sorry about that. Now, President Tower is saying the ROAS must surrender all of Nevada within two days or else.”
The ultimatum news stunned Upton. CENTCOM hadn’t mentioned a deadline. Instead, his orders were to stay hidden for a couple of days until the enemy moved out of the area. If the US wasn’t falling back, but instead continued attacking, escaping Mesquite to the safety of ROAS lines would be much tougher. Plus, McMichael’s kids lived in Las Vegas. She’d freak out upon hearing the news. Upton shook it off; he needed to gather more intelligence.
“Has the US given any more instructions to the local civilian population? Have you seen US troops in the area?” asked Upton.
“Uh, no. Other than the loudspeaker last night, and a helicopter early this morning, I haven’t seen or heard another living soul. The country radio station out of Vegas has been blaring about a mandatory evacuation for most of Southern Nevada, but I’m not going anywhere. Now, can you tell me what you’re doing in my neighbor’s house?”
Torn, Upton didn’t want the man involved, but it was already too late. Perhaps the old guy could be of help. One thing was for certain, he wouldn’t tell the guy about McMichael snoozing in the back bedroom or the satellite phone. He came up with a partial story.
“I was on the front line yesterday during the attack. I got lucky and, except for some bruised ribs, escaped unharmed. My obligation is to avoid capture. So I’m working my way south and west. Early this morning, I stumbled across this house and decided to hide for a while. My plan is to stay low until things calm. Other than a little food, I haven’t disturbed the home.”
“Must’ve been bad. The noise from the fighting was frightening. I couldn’t image being in the middle of that. Don’t blame you for running,” said Russel.
“I didn’t run,” snapped Upton. Last thing he needed was the neighbor believing him a coward and worthy of capture.
“Oh,” said Rus, lifting his eyebrows.
“I survived,” said Upton, not appreciating the look. “An exploding shell tossed me through the air and cracked my ribs. I was knocked out and buried under some rubble when the US overran our position. Later, long after the battle ended, I escaped. So don’t give me that look. I didn’t run.”
“Sure,” said Russel nodding his head. “I believe you, and I don’t blame you for breaking into the house. Hell, most folks in the area fled before the fight. They had busses shipping out the retiree’s and old folks. I’m probably only one of a handful still here. Myself, I got no other place. I live alone, just me and the cat. When the wife died, almost a year ago, she left me the calico. It ain’t worth a damn, but I take good care of her. I got kids, two girls, both in Sacramento. But they’re all grown and have their own families. Not much time for me.”
“Sorry to hear about your wife,” said Upton. He glanced down at his pistol on the table and decided it was time to put it away. Picking it up, he slid it into his side holster.
“Yeah, well, thanks. Life goes on,” said Russel, his eyes watching the gun as it disappeared from view. “To be honest, I never gave a damn about the ROAS Freedom Party. I belong to the Union Party. Although I don’t agree with what happened yesterday, the ROAS is plain wrong. The sooner the Union’s restored the better. That’s why I listen to the Truth and not the bullshit the ROAS media puts out. I believe in Manifest Destiny and reunifying the original United States.”
Worried to learn he was dealing with a possible US sympathizer, Upton frowned. Russel was old enough to have lived through secession and the great migration that followed. Conservative, the Union Party supported nullification and a return to the United States. Still, until he could escape, Upton needed Russel. “All I want is to do my duty and return.”
“I understand,” said Russel. “You’re a soldier. I respect that.”
“Thank you,” said Upton. Curious, Upton asked, “Was there a reason you came over today to check your neighbor’s house?”
“I’ve been watching the streets and houses around real close, trying to figure out what’s happening. A couple of times the shades moved, a shadow passed. I thought the neighbors might have returned. So I got up the nerve, grabbed the keys, and walked over to check.”