Hatfield said nothing, quickly angling his body to conceal the drugs he and Jess were looking at. Speaking his mind obviously wouldn’t be a good idea. Then he noticed something in the bearded gangbanger’s hand. The same thing he saw the other guy drinking in the kitchen. A long test tube containing a steaming liquid. He turned, discreetly tucking a bottle into his wife’s pocket and covering the action by pretending to hug his wife. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to give my wife a little embrace before I—”
“I do mind! This is not a honeymoon suite. Now get out of here and get back to work.”
“Yes, sir.” He gave his wife a subtle nod and got one in return. Then he was back to the kitchen working on the oven and not sure how concerned he should be about what was happening in the hallway.
AS HE FINISHED CLEANING the stove, the need for a plan became clear. So he began to construct one. First, he compiled a list in his head of the best shooters at the compound, based on the observing he’d done of various guys taking turns at target practice. He’d need good shooters, and he’d need reliable help. And more than anything else, he needed people who were as determined as he was for the situation to change.
Once again, he took note of another gangbanger guzzling the homemade brew. An idea began to take root.
LATER IN THE EVENING, the Hatfield family gathered at bedtime. Jess had nothing to say about problems created by the bearded gangbanger. But the vaguely remorseful look on his wife’s face told him everything he needed to know. She could always handle herself in tough situations, no question about it.
The family shared a brief prayer, then went to be in darkness and silence, an ominous pall hanging over them. Out of nowhere, he said, “This place isn’t safe for you all.”
“It’s not an ideal setting,” Jess said, “but we’ll survive. Just like you said. We just have to be strong, and we have to know that we have each other.”
“Yes, but don’t forget what else I said. This can’t last forever. And it won’t. I’m going to try to arrange things so the three of you can wind up in a safer place.”
“What are you talking about?” his wife asked.
“I’m talking about the bunker. Jade has made it clear that she’s comfortable with having more people join her and her family.”
“But how can we get out of here?”
“You let me take care of that. I just need to know if you all are with me. Can I count on each of you to work together and play your part in the plan?”
“Sure can, Dad,” Justin said with no hesitation in his voice.
Tami added, “Sounds like it could be a little scary, but then life right now is a little scary. So yes. I’m in.”
It warmed him to see his family was with him, that they’re were afraid but not paralyzed by the fear. “Good to hear this. I’ll have the plan together by tomorrow morning. Goodnight all.”
When his family answered, there was a life to their voices he hadn’t heard in weeks. The spirit was still there. Hatfield went to bed, knowing they’d need every ounce of it if they were to make it out alive.
THE MORNING CAME TOO QUICKLY. Hatfield had hoped he’d have every step of the plan set in his mind by sunrise—as if he’d naïvely assumed his dreams would help them take shape. Instead, he just dreamed of his dad, face as stern as ever, words as harsh as ever.
“Are you proud of me, Dad?” he asked a ghostly figure in a ceremonial uniform.
He answered, “Son, I am proud of men and women who work hard to make life better and safer for their families. I’m proud of people who are brave, strong, stoic in the face of danger, wise in the face of challenges.
The answer didn’t satisfy young Trevor, mysteriously clad in the clothes he would wear as a grown-up. It was all fine and well to assert the qualities he admired and respected. But his son needed to know if he had lived up to those qualities.
Just as the sergeant parted his lips and began to speak, a loud clank startled Hatfield and his family out of sleep.
The bearded gangbanger charged in, rifle poised, face angry. “Everybody up! Time to get into that kitchen and get your work done.” Then he pointed to Jess. “You will have a different task. I’ll meet you in our sleeping quarters!”
Hatfield studied the guy’s moves, noticed that he occasionally got sloppy with his gun. As the guy launched into smug laughter, it occurred to him he could have lunged out, stripped the gun from his hand, and killed him.
But he had to consider the big picture. And if all went well with the plan, there would be a seismic shift in the big picture within a few hours. He dragged himself out of bed as the bearded guy took off with a violent slam of the door. He needed a plan, and it was time to deliver one.
AFTER REACHING THE KITCHEN, Hatfield saw Jess ushered away and down the hallway. Before getting there, she flashed her a confident grin as well as the reason for her confidence. Pulling back the tail of her blouse, she revealed a bottle of pills. So far, the plan was working to perfection.
The next stage demanded a distraction, and Hatfield wasn’t sure how to get it. From behind, he heard loud coughs and saw a homesteader start to heave. “Hey!” the gangbanger in charge yelled. “Take that to the bathroom! We just cleaned the floor in here!”
The homesteader hobbled away, bent at the stomach.
That troubled Hatfield. He glanced at his hand, noticing the dark-blue tinge of his finger had spread a little. Meanwhile, this homesteader seemed to have the same symptoms Cecil had dealt with.
Minutes later, a second homesteader similarly clutched his stomach and buckled into a coughing fit. Scanning the kitchen, Hatfield looked for any others who may have been ill. He didn’t see any right away, but that didn’t stop his hands from trembling with worry. It seemed that many people had been infected. Within seconds, his fit got so awful, he had to race to the bathroom before vomiting on the floor. A bad sign.
But, good sign or not, it was an opportunity.
Amid the distraction caused by the ruckus that followed, Hatfield slipped across the kitchen and whispered to Grace. “In five minutes, you’re going to get a fit of coughs, then go the bathroom.”
“Huh?”
“Shh!” He repeated, “In five minutes, you’re going to get a fit of coughs, then go to the bathroom. Tell the other VVs to do the same and meet me there.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will when we get there.”
She nodded, her eyes shaky.
As instructed, she waited five minutes then began pretending to cough. Her make-believe fit was convincing enough for the gangbanger in charge to casually nod toward the bathroom when she dropped to her knees and looked around for help.
Grace then hobbled to her feet and headed to the hallway. On her way there, she discreetly whispered to the other two VVs. They both looked around the kitchen, seemingly puzzled by the order.
When their eyes landed on Hatfield, he gave them a subtle nod as if to confirm what they were supposed to do. After a few minutes, they did as they’d been instructed. The gangbanger, now accustomed to so many bodies drifting in and out of the kitchen, waved them away with a roll of his eyes.
After those two disappeared, Hatfield was next. He waited until he could plausibly get away with it, then stepped away, hunched over and gripping his belly as if about to give birth.
Once in the bathroom, he searched the door for a lock, finding none. The space where the lock would be had been hollowed out. To maintain privacy, he had to press the heel of his right foot against the bottom of the door. Then he stood with his head flush against it, checking for the tell-tale signs of a sudden intruder.
He looked up to find three bewildered faces. “What the hell was that all about?” Gary asked.