Kate slipped into the upstairs bathroom after Alex and locked the door. She needed a moment with him alone, and this looked like it might be her last opportunity for a long time. Even when they reunited at the farm, they would be living on top of each other with nine additional people, bringing the total at the 2,200-square-foot contemporary farmhouse to seventeen. Alone time would become a premium, which was important for their relationship. Important on several levels, one of which was Alex’s mental health. The mental and physical rigors of their pandemic experience had worsened his post-traumatic distress symptoms, his nightmares, and had surfaced subtle changes to his behavior.
The changes were barely noticeable, but Alex seemed more prone to bouts of melancholy and a negative outlook. He’d always had the nightmares, pretending to wake up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, when Kate knew he was changing a sweat-soaked shirt and wiping his face. He hadn’t been the only one pretending. She would lay there breathing slowly, faking a deep sleep, grateful that he’d returned. Her deep, undisturbed sleep had become a joke in their family over the years, but it was a twisted façade. She slept so lightly at night, constantly waking up to Alex’s murmurs and sounds, that she could barely lift herself out of bed in the morning.
She’d kept this a secret from him for years, just like he’d tried to keep the nightmares from her. The onset of depression after the pandemic worried her the most, forcing her to suggest he seek PTSD-related counseling. The treatment had been marginally effective at combating his mood swings, and Kate relied on constant, close observation to guide him through tougher spells of darkness. Prior to the tsunami, Alex had been on one of the longest upward swings she could remember. She suspected that he’d started taking the medication he’d been prescribed, which he’d long been against. The current situation had the potential to send him in the opposite direction, and Kate needed to stay on top of it.
“I don’t think this is the right time,” he said, leaning his rifle against the wall next to the toilet.
“You wish. They ran out of hot water this afternoon. A cold shower with a stinky man isn’t at the top of my romantic encounters list. I just wanted to talk with you in private.”
“And I had been led to believe that I was irresistible under any circumstances,” he joked.
“I’m not sure a shower will do you any good.”
“Sadly, I don’t even notice anymore,” Alex said. “I know why you’re here, by the way.”
“That obvious?”
“I’m fine. Pretty clear-cut situation out there.”
He lit one of the candles on the marble bathroom counter and started to undress.
“It won’t always be that clear cut,” she said.
“Anything standing in the way of getting Ryan and Chloe back is a clear-cut threat. We know exactly what’s going to happen out there. What people are capable of. No second guessing on my end.”
“I know you’ll get them back. Tomorrow morning we’ll be together again. I’ll make a huge pancake breakfast for the entire crew. We’ll swim in the lake, kick back and enjoy the hard work we’ve put into the farm,” she said, barely believing her own words.
Alex didn’t fully believe it either. He never spoke a word of pessimism about their chances of rescuing Ryan and Chloe, but she could see it in his eyes. See him calculating the odds. They had no idea where the asteroid hit, if it had really been an asteroid. Alex didn’t seem convinced. None of them could reconcile the EMP effects with the government’s version of what had transpired this morning. The only data point that gave them all hope that it hadn’t been a hostile nuclear detonation came from Alex’s early-morning observation.
He determined that the fading light from the initial flash had been centered on a true bearing of one hundred and seventy degrees, which was east of Boston—possibly out to sea. The tsunami added credence to this theory.
Asteroid or nuclear weapon, it didn’t change the fact that the explosion had occurred much closer to Boston than Portland, and their son lived on the sixth floor of a fifty-year-old, fourteen-floor dormitory tower overlooking the Charles River. The implications hadn’t escaped either of them. The tsunami would be bigger, sweeping down the Charles River and flooding the campus. The blast and wind effects of the initial strike would be more devastating, causing serious external damage to buildings, and the seismic effect of the impact would be more pronounced, resulting in structural damage.
Alex would never say it, but his body language betrayed the elephant following them from room to room. Their rescue mission stood a good chance of turning into a recovery mission.
“I wish my parents would use the damn satphone. I’d feel better knowing that everything is all right out there. Is there any warm water at all?” he said and stripped down to his underwear.
“None, according to Sam,” said Kate. “I’m sure your parents are fine. We’ll be out there soon enough.”
“They’re not exactly spring chickens, and technology kicks their asses—unless it’s the Internet. They’re all over that.”
Kate laughed. “They have more of a social media presence than I do.”
“More than both of us,” he said and paused. “This may sound strange, but I hope that both of their cars are out of commission.”
“I had the same thought. Driving around isn’t a good idea right now.”
“Especially for those two. The worst would be if one of the cars started on the first try, and they just drove into town, still oblivious. They’d lose the car at their first stop, or worse.”
“Limerick is a tight community. I wouldn’t worry about them,” said Kate.
“What we saw tonight is the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Ed’s Jeep carries more real-world value than the combined bank accounts of everyone in Scarborough. Don’t be surprised if we end up walking back from Boston.”
“Just stay in touch with the phone. Use your portable solar unit to keep it charged.”
“Unless we’re talking all day and all night, the phones should last pretty long,” said Alex.
“Humor me. If you end up walking back, we might not see you for several days.”
“I may have to talk Ed and Charlie into hiking a little further than I suggested. We can’t afford to lose the Jeep.”
“Good luck hauling Charlie and Ed that far,” she said quietly.
Alex leaned in, bringing his smelly body closer to hers. She tried not to react to the strong aroma of stagnant, rotting mud.
“Between you and me, I’m not taking either of them across the Charles—unless the situation requires it,” he whispered. “If I can convince them to guard the Jeep, all the better. Getting in and out of the city with our kids will require mobility and concentration. They’ll slow me down,” he whispered.
“These guys came through for you before. You’re not exactly a trained commando.”
“Compared to Ed and Charlie, I’m Delta Force. I’ll bring them as far as I can without jeopardizing the kids’ safety,” said Alex.
“Yeah, and good luck trying to talk Ed out of rescuing his daughter.”
PART III
“ROADS LESS TRAVELLED”
Chapter 21
EVENT +23:58 Hours
Scarborough, Maine
A thin line of dark blue light pushed gently against the black velvet curtain, barely noticeable through the distant trees. From the second-floor corner window of the Walkers’ house, Alex flipped his night vision goggles (NVG) down and surveyed the green image. The eastern half of the neighborhood was dark. He stared at a fixed point for several seconds, trying to register any movement in the limited field of vision afforded by the goggles. All was still. He moved to one of the front windows and knelt, scanning the houses along their departure route. The green imagery betrayed no signs of artificial light within the homes. He clicked his radio.