This We Will Defend [Book 2] Page 8

  Michelle laughed slightly as she glanced over at Kim, whose physical attributes of shape and stature were nearly identical. The two had even traded clothes in the past in an effort to mitigate boredom with their attire. Whitney literally towered over them both.

  “This valley was blessed with its share of petite women, and I know the two sitting at this table wouldn’t be of any help,” Michelle said merrily.

  “I have a bunch of stuff that’s two or three sizes bigger than me,” Lauren said. “What are you, Whitney? About five eight? Five nine?”

  “Five nine feet of sunshine,” Whitney admitted, the wineglass now glued to her lower lip.

  “Okay,” said Lauren. “So…my pants will look like capris on you, then.”

  Whitney snorted. Michelle and Kim got in a laugh as well. The ladies continued on for several minutes, each offering their suggestions on what the family could use and who could offer the most suitable options.

  “You know, it might not be a bad idea to start a small scavenging detail,” Norman suggested. “There’s a lot of abandoned homes in the valley and even more between Perry and Wardensville. I know we’ve been reluctant to do it, but I think enough time has passed. If the owners aren’t back by now, they’re probably never coming back.”

  Fred nodded. “Damn fine idea, Norm. We can secure them while we’re at it—and make sure we don’t have a squatter problem in the valley.”

  Norman continued. “And I don’t want to sound like I’m harping on this point, but with four extra mouths to feed, the food thing is going to become a major problem if we don’t start getting serious about hunting and gathering. We need to load up with some protein—and we need to get it done as soon as possible.”

  The conversation died down a bit as the group began passing plates of food around the table, each person serving themselves a conservative portion of whatever they were handed. Before the collapse, it was as easy to complain about dinner offerings as it was to accommodate them with a nearly endless palette of choices. All that was needed was a quick trip up the street to the grocery store and the problem was solved. Now, what was served was all there was. You either ate the food that was made for you, or you didn’t eat. Being finicky was no longer a viable option.

  “I got some information out of our prisoner yesterday,” Fred said as he handed a plate of white rice and mushrooms to Scott.

  “How’s that been working out for you?” asked Norman.

  “He’s not the nicest person in the world,” Fred said. “Rather reluctant to talk at first, too. But I managed to persuade him.”

  Lauren looked up curiously from her food. “Where are you keeping him?”

  “Dad’s got him tied to a tree in the yard,” Megan replied.

  Lauren snickered. “In the rain?”

  “To be completely accurate, he’s chained to it,” Fred reacted. “Why?”

  “Well, it’s cold out there, Fred,” Lauren said timidly. “Aren’t you worried about him getting hypothermia? And maybe dying?”

  “He’s got a poncho I gave him to keep him dry, and one of my old woobies to keep him warm,” Fred said. “I didn’t think it’d be appropriate to show him more hospitality than that. He and his friends certainly didn’t care to show us any.”

  Lauren turned away. “Sorry I said anything.”

  “That’s what I thought. That woobie kept me warm when I was deployed in all types of weather. He’s not an honored guest or anything, and this isn’t the Salvation Army.” Fred’s voice was slurred. It was evident that the moonshine’s effects were settling in. He gestured at the Schmidts. “Hell…I almost lost my mind when I found out we were letting these two move in.”

  Knowing that it was Fred’s nature to be brash and at times relatively thoughtless, Scott lowered his head and hid his grin with a palm. His wife didn’t take it so easily. She recoiled and scowled angrily at Fred.

  “Really?” Whitney spouted. “Are you fucking kidding me, Fred? Forgive us for being such a burden to you. Would you like for us to leave? Shall we move ourselves back into what remains of our home?”

  Kim held a hand across the table to put herself between Whitney and Fred, whose robust personalities were destined to collide. “Ignore him, Whitney—he was joking,” Kim said, her friendly charm leading the way. “Right, Fredrick?”

  “Joking and just plain being an asshole are two completely dissimilar things,” Whitney retorted. “This isn’t the time or the place.”

  “I’m sorry about that, Whitney. It was a joke,” Fred relented.

  “Well, I’m not amused,” Whitney said. “Not in the least.”

  “Me neither, Fredrick,” Scott said, taking the lighthearted approach. Fred slapped the top of Scott’s hand with his fork and Scott pulled it back to his chest defensively. “Ouch!”

  While trying not to laugh, Norman deviated the conversation. “So—back to the prisoner; what did you find out?” he asked Fred.

  Fred paused as he chewed on the food he’d just placed into his mouth. “That there’s more of them,” Fred said. His eyes took turns looking at everyone at the table. “Plenty more. He delivered that fact to me more than a half-dozen times during our first conversation.”

  Michelle took a sip of wine. “Well, we pretty much assumed that,” she said. “But how many more?”

  Fred hesitated and then said, “If he’s telling the truth, it’s anywhere from fifty to a hundred.”

  “Whoa,” Norman said, his expression overcome with concern. “That’s a bigger number than I expected.”

  “I said the same thing, Norman,” Kim said quietly. “Honestly, it’s hard for me to believe. With people starving to death left and right all over the place, I don’t know how they could’ve survived this long.”

  “By eating each other,” Lee quipped with a pile of food in his mouth. “People like that usually end up just eating each other to stay alive.” His brother laughed slightly and elbowed him in the ribs. Lee countered with a punch to John’s shoulder.

  “They’ve apparently been moving from town to town ever since the collapse,” Fred said indifferently. “I guess that’s how they’ve survived together for this long. By finding resources and—acquiring them. Like nomads.”

  “Yeah—I think the operative word for that is parasite,” Whitney affirmed.

  “So where did they get those weapons from?” Norman asked. “They didn’t get full-auto MP5s by robbing a Walmart. Those guys are a threat to anyone in their path, and that includes the government—the same government that has Virginia on lockdown right now. Why haven’t DHS or FEMA done anything about them?”

  The look on Fred’s face changed, and he set his fork down to take a drink, this time from his water glass.

  “Peter mentioned at the last meeting that the Marauders were gunrunners before the shit hit the fan—so who knows? Maybe they have an arsenal somewhere,” Fred said. “Maybe they acquired them too somehow.”

  “This conversation isn’t making me feel warm and cozy,” Scott said. “I was happier when we were talking about clothes.”

  “Well, if that puts a wrinkle in your undies, you’re gonna love this—and this may answer your question too, Norm.” Fred cleared his throat. “He told me, in so many words, that the DHS has been outfitting them with supplies. He said they’re working for them.”

  No one said a word for a moment as Fred’s words sank in. Whitney and Scott began whispering to one another while Kim and Michelle both took extended drinks from their wineglasses and then refilled them.

  John, who hadn’t said so much as a word since arriving, indignantly asked, “I’m sorry—did you say that DHS is helping them?”

  Fred nodded reluctantly, his head moving in slow motion. “I’m saying that’s what he told me, John.”

  John took a drink of water and, without missing a beat, turned in his seat to face Lauren. “Does Christian know anything about this?”

  Lauren recoiled. “Seriously, John? How in the hell am I supposed to k
now?”

  “There’s no need to be defensive,” John said. “It’s just a question.”

  “He hasn’t mentioned it, Lauren? Are you certain?” Fred asked with a curious look. His tone was much more tranquil than his typical command voice—almost as if he were trying to defuse a ticking time bomb.

  “No. He hasn’t mentioned it. And yes, I’m certain,” said Lauren. “And if you don’t like that answer, you can ask him yourself.”

  “I might just do that,” Fred responded.

  Lauren looked around the room and saw that she now had everyone’s attention. She set down her fork and reached for the cloth napkin on her lap. She wiped her mouth with it, folded it, and placed it on the table beside her empty plate.

  “Look, I don’t know where this is suddenly coming from, but I don’t like it,” Lauren said. “Christian saved my life—or has that fact not been mentioned before already?”

  “Lauren—” Michelle began.

  “And not to mention—you know—in case you weren’t there,” Lauren continued, this time with fire in her words, “Christian fought alongside us just the other day. He helped protect us and risked his life in the process. If you all still choose not to trust him after that, be my guest.”

  “Lauren, calm down,” Michelle requested. “No one is accusing anyone of anything. These are questions that need to be asked—and out of everyone here, you know him the best.”

  “And he is the new guy in the neighborhood,” Scott added.

  “Don’t you agree that it’s hard to really know someone after only being around them for a week?” Whitney pondered.

  “Stop this!” Lauren exclaimed. As she stood up from her chair, her legs pushed it into the wall behind her with a loud thump. “I trust Christian—and I honestly don’t give a shit if the rest of you do or don’t.”

  “Lauren, honey…please sit down,” Kim insisted, once again trying her best to mediate. “No one here is attacking you, sweetheart.”

  “L,” Michelle said as she held out an open palm in her daughter’s direction, “all we’re looking for here is confirmation. We want to trust him—the same as you do. Help us understand.”

  Lauren sighed loudly, rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms defiantly. The fire inside her had been rekindled and she was trying with everything she had not to fuel it any further.

  “Because, Mom. He had every opportunity—and I mean every opportunity to hurt me. And he didn’t,” Lauren said in a much calmer voice. She was fighting a battle inside herself. A part of her wanted to explode, while another part was trying desperately to put out the flames. Lauren looked around the room at all the pairs of eyes that were now fixated on her. Everyone had stopped eating. She took a breath and continued. “I fell asleep near him the first night I met him, and he didn’t try anything. When the DHS came with their dogs and chased us up the mountain, he could’ve turned on me, but he didn’t. And when the time came to fight, he shot them and killed them. Not me. He protected me when he just as easily could’ve chosen not to.”

  Lauren paused. Some of the pairs of eyes that were once looking at her had turned away. “Christian didn’t know me from Adam and he saved my life. He chose to save my life.” She turned to John and smacked the back of his head with her palm. “And you…of all people, John…”

  She then turned and stormed out of the dining room without saying another word.

  John went to go after her, but Norman snapped his fingers at him, catching him mid-stride. The sound echoed in the room. Lee put his big hand on his brother’s shoulder and pulled on him to sit back down.

  “Sit down, John,” Norman demanded, his eyes glaring at his son. “Now.”

  John hesitated but reluctantly did as his father said. The look on his face showed much more than just confusion of the situation. The room soon fell silent and stayed that way for several minutes.

  Michelle finished her wine and set down her glass. “I’m not going to apologize for my daughter. So if that’s what everyone is waiting for, keep waiting,” she said. “Lauren trusts Christian. If she does, then so do I.”

  “That goes for me, too,” Norman said, his eyes still glaring at John.

  “Fair enough,” Fred conceded. “For now.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Scott followed. “Should probably be good enough for all of us.” He poked his wife in the side and Whitney nodded.

  “I suppose,” she said, her voice indicating she wasn’t convinced.

  “Megan, honey, would you go check on Lauren, please?” Kim said quietly.

  Megan wiped her mouth with her napkin and then stood up and walked hurriedly out of the room.

  “I have a stupid question,” Lee asked as his eyes followed Megan’s shape until she disappeared from sight. “Why would the DHS choose to support a bunch of outlaw bikers?”

  “That’s something I’ve asked myself over and over since he said it,” Fred said.

  “I think they’re using them as a scare technique—to force what’s left of the people out of their homes,” John said. “And maybe tuck tail and run crying to the government for help.”

  “So…hired mercenaries, then,” Whitney verified. “Is that even plausible?”

  “It does make sense,” Fred said with a nod. “It’s a way to force people into compliance without an open show of force. All they have to do is provide food and supplies as payment, which the federal government has always had a surplus of. And in the end, DHS comes out smelling like roses because they saved the people from a band of evil assholes.”

  The room fell silent for a moment, each member of the group absorbing the gravity of the situation in their own way.

  “I really need a cigarette,” Michelle whispered.

  “We’ll get this figured out at the meeting Sunday,” Fred said, waving his hand. “And hopefully, Christian can answer some of our questions. No matter how you swing it, they pose an immediate threat to us. They’re coming—and we need to prepare ourselves for it.”

  Chapter 5

  Megan found Lauren standing in the foyer, gazing out into the rainy darkness through a window. Her arms were crossed and her eyes were narrowed, as could be seen by her reflection in the glass. Megan approached her cautiously.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” Lauren replied, seeing Megan’s arrival reflected in the glass. “Just—bothered. I don’t like it when people question me or my gut feelings. I mean, I actually know what I’m talking about sometimes.”

  “Come upstairs with me,” Megan said. “I’d like to talk to you about something, and I need to do it where no one else can hear.”

  Lauren turned around curiously, uncrossed her arms, and then followed her friend up the staircase to her bedroom. Inside, Megan lit an oil lamp with a lighter and extended the wick enough that it illuminated the room. She sat on the side of her bed and motioned for Lauren to take a seat in the chair near her desk.

  “I’m glad you guys came over tonight,” Megan said. “I can’t tell you how boring it is around here. I’ve been absolutely stir-crazy—especially lately.”

  “Well, we were invited, Meg,” Lauren said with a smirk. “And we live across the road from each other…it’s not like we could stand you guys up or anything.”

  “Oh, I know that,” Megan said. “Look, I’m just really glad to see you. I don’t have that many options anymore in the friend department, if you know what I mean. They’re pretty limited now.”

  “I understand fully. I used to have tons of friends before. The only difference was I was a loner by preference.”

  Megan nodded and rubbed her bedspread with her hand. “I wish I could say the same—about the friends part.”

  “For what it’s worth, not all of them were true friends.”

  “I can relate,” said Megan. “I’ve experienced my fair share of betrayal. I’m a loner too—just not by choice.”

  “Maybe you just need to get out more,” Lauren teased.

  “Maybe.”

&
nbsp; Lauren paused and looked around Megan’s room. She was impressed with how neat and tidy it was. Everything on Megan’s desk was near-perfectly organized. Her clothes appeared as if they’d been folded by a professional laundress. Megan’s bedroom was her bedroom’s polar opposite.

  “It’s more than just a maybe for me,” Lauren said. “I’ve been cooped up inside for days now and it feels like I’m going insane. Being outside has always brought me peace. It’s difficult to explain.”

  Megan smiled. “No need to—I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “I’ve never really had a choice, living here and all. We’re surrounded by hundreds of miles of National Forest, with old roads and hiking trails spread out all over the place. I used to love being able to explore it. Now, I’m not allowed. Because it’s not safe anymore.” Megan sighed deeply. “When my brothers were around, I used to just tag along with them. Now they’re never around. So, there’s me, all by my lonesome. Little Megan—the youngest—who’s always stuck inside this house.”

  Megan paused and made a show out of playing with her hair. “You know what we should do? We should volunteer to do road patrol.”

  “Should we…”

  “Why not? It’s pretty clear that we both miss being outdoors. You have a bum ankle that needs to heal, and it can do that riding in a vehicle. We’ll both be close to home, with a radio, and my dad might actually consider letting me out of the house for a change if someone he trusts is with me.”

  “If you think it’s worth a shot, then sure,” Lauren said. “I’m game. Anything to get some time outside again.”

  The room fell silent for a moment. Lauren started wondering what Megan had meant when she’d said ‘someone he trusts’, but didn’t dwell on it long. The fact that Fred was so adamant about keeping Megan indoors had been bugging her for a while, and Lauren was no longer able to keep her curiosity hidden.

  “Why does your dad keep you inside so much, Meg?”

  “He’s protective,” Megan said, without hesitation. “He doesn’t want anything to happen to me.”

  “All fathers are protective of their daughters.”