“You know that’s not what was going on.”
“I agree with Alex,” said Charlie.
Ed sighed. “All I’m trying to say is that we’ve all jumped to conclusions, some more than others, and it has the potential to put us all in danger.”
“Why are you saying this now?” said Alex, finding himself wide awake.
“Because I can finally think! I’m out of the pressure cooker. At least I thought I was. Now I have angry militia stalking the forests around me. What if they weren’t executing women and children in the forest? What if we killed the guys at the bridge for no reason, and now we’re at the top of their shit list?”
“I didn’t kill the guys at the bridge because they were executing civilians. I killed them because they chose to stand in the way of rescuing my son and your daughter,” he said, glaring at Ed.
Ed looked away for several moments while the words hung in the room.
“It was the right thing to do,” admitted Ed, running his hands through his hair. “I’m just exhausted. I didn’t think I’d come back to living in the Alamo. Sorry to get riled up like that. What do we need to do?”
“We’ll all feel a little less punchy after some sleep. Unfortunately, it’s not going to be as much as we all probably expected. I think we need to have at least half of the house up by 4:30 AM. Firing positions manned to cover 360 degrees, minimal lighting, all guns ready. We’ll need to stay like that until at least eight. If they attack, it’ll most likely come between those hours. If they make a move against us, they’ll probably use the early morning darkness to move into position, then spring the attack when the sun comes up.”
“What about the rest of the day?” Ed asked.
Alex knew his words might not go over very well with Ed, but he didn’t want to sugarcoat the truth. If Ed was going to have a problem living at the compound, he needed to know sooner than later, so they could adjust the plan. He hated to think like this, but the threat they faced was organized, lethal and depraved. A bad combination in Alex’s experience. They couldn’t afford to make any assumptions about the commitment level of anyone in the group. He’d never ask his friend to leave, but if Ed’s heart wasn’t in the fight, Alex would craft the plan around him. Nothing personal. Purely pragmatic.
“We’ll have to be extremely cautious. If we want to work outside, we’ll have to carry weapons and post pickets in the tree line, just in case they avoid the sensors. I say we stay close to the house, so we can get inside if the sensors pick up a threat or one of the pickets spots something. We have to work the garden. That’s non-negotiable. We’re in peak harvest time.”
“Sounds like prison. How long will we have to live like this?”
“Until the threat no longer exists. We might be able to get the marines to help us with that, given my new role. If this group represents a threat to the region’s stability, I could make a strong case for destroying it.”
“What exactly is your new role, Alex?” said his father, eyeing him skeptically.
Alex decided to give them the short version, skipping the part about Homeland’s extensive data files. The information was classified anyway, “eyes only” for three members of Grady’s battalion at this point, so he didn’t feel guilty about concealing it.
“The commanding officer of the reserve marine battalion down in Boston is an old friend. He served as one of my platoon commanders in Iraq. We were both injured by the same RPG outside of An-Nasiriyah. The situation in Boston required the battalion to withdraw and reform north. He thinks they’ll eventually pull back to Maine. Apparently, Maine has been designated as a priority recovery zone, which explains why we saw an immediate deployment of National Guard units at the major border crossing chokepoints. I guess they’re worried about militia groups starting trouble inside the recovery zone. He asked me to apply my knowledge of the Maine-based groups and provide a threat assessment.”
Kate looked at him sharply. “Does he want you to go out and visit these groups?”
“No. I can sit right here and do the work. They gave me a laptop, satellite communications gear, everything I need. It’s an easy gig.”
“Until it isn’t,” she said, “and the Marine Corps sends you wherever they think you’re needed.”
“It’s a provisional appointment. I’m more like a consultant. Colonel Grady did this as a favor,” said Alex.
“Sounds like you’re the one doing him the favor,” said Samantha.
“He gave us an armed escort back to Maine, and this position comes with benefits. I’m designated as a security/intelligence officer, which is one of the highest tiers,” he said, digging the provisional security card out of his pocket. “It gives me one of these, which I—we— can use to access significant resources. Unrestricted travel, hospital privileges, no more worrying about walking around with firearms. I can authorize any of our families to enter the recovery zone. Probably get them picked up and delivered. From what Grady said, Maine is about to become one of the most sought-after pieces of real estate in New England. This is kind of our golden ticket.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Charlie, followed by a swig of coffee.
“I don’t know,” said Kate. “Sorry to be a downer about this, but the sooner you get that work done and cut yourself off from the marines, the better off we’ll all be, especially if Maine becomes a recovery zone, or whatever it’s called.”
“Grady did this as a favor. It got us a ride back and a little insurance policy if things get wild. I’ll finish up the threat assessment, designate the Maine Liberty Militia as a critical threat to recovery zone stability, and we’ll all be able to sit back and relax while the marines hunt them down. Threat neutralized.”
“I hope you’re right, Alex,” said Kate.
“I’m only right when you say I’m right,” he said, eliciting a few stifled laughs. “Who’s on watch at 4 AM?”
“I’m on from two until six with Alyssa,” said Linda.
“All right. Why don’t you wake Kate, me, Ed and Charlie at 4:15. Have some coffee going and some snacks available.”
“I’ll get up and make sure everything is ready,” said Amy.
“You don’t have to do that,” countered Linda.
“I won’t be able to sleep anyway.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Well, if she’s up, I’m up,” said Tim Fletcher.
“Sounds like that’s all we’ll need. I like the idea of having all of our rifles available during those hours. It might make sense to modify the nighttime watch rotation to keep our rifles off the ten to two in the morning shift. Set it up so that one is in the two to six, and the rest get a reasonable night’s sleep in preparation for the dawn watch.”
Everyone signaled agreement by mumbling or nodding. The group was exhausted and needed to power down. Waking up tomorrow morning was assured to be miserable for the recently returned Boston group.
“Well, if Charlie’s too tired to talk, we should probably break this up and catch some sleep,” he said.
Everyone rose in unison, eager to put the day behind them.
“Prep your tactical gear and weapons before you lay down. Trust me. You don’t want to be fumbling around with that stuff at zero dark thirty. You should sleep in your clothes too. That includes sturdy footwear. I know that sounds crazy, but you’ll be thankful if something happens. Plus I’m pretty sure most of us could fall asleep on a bed of nails tonight. See you in the morning.”
A few minutes later, Kate caught Alex washing his face in the downstairs bathroom and closed the door.