Apocalypse unleashed

7

United States of America

Fort Benning, Georgia

Local Time 0617 Hours

The alarm clock woke Megan Gander. She shot out a hand and silenced it before the second offensive bleat could sound. She lay quietly on the camp cot in her bedroom and listened to the snores of the girls sleeping in her bed.

It was the most peaceful sound in the world right now. At least in this corner of the world, people were safe and well cared for.

As always, her first thoughts and prayers were for Chris. Though she felt certain in light of everything she’d come to understand about events in the world that Chris was in a far better place, her son’s absence remained difficult to deal with.

She missed Chris terribly. Some nights, when Goose was away in the field, as he was now, Megan would let Chris watch cartoons and share her bed. She’d done the same thing with Joey. Especially after the divorce from her first husband.

They’d both been lonely, and the apartment she was renting at that time had only a single bedroom. She hadn’t wanted Joey sleeping on the couch all the time. As soon as she was able, she’d gotten a two-bedroom apartment.

Her cell phone vibrated in the pocket of the flannel pajama pants she wore. Reluctantly, she pulled it from her pocket, checked caller ID, and pushed herself from the cot.

The number came from the fort’s hospital. That couldn’t mean good news. Not this early.

“Megan,” she answered in a whisper.

“Did I wake you?” Aisha Waller asked. She was the night supervisor at the hospital.

“No. The alarm did a few minutes before you called.” Megan looked at the girls sleeping in her bedroom. All seven of them, three on the bed and four in sleeping bags on the floor, were between thirteen and sixteen. All of them had lost their parents and siblings in the rapture.

“I wanted to let you know that Lindsey Perlman got admitted a couple hours ago,” Aisha said.

“What happened?”

“She tried to commit suicide. Took a straight razor to her wrists.”

The announcement hurt and scared Megan. The Tribulation had already manifested all around the world. The next seven years would be the most trying and terrifying mankind had ever seen. People who failed to find Jesus during these times ran the risk of being lost forever.

“How is she?” Megan went to her closet and took out pearl gray slacks, a midnight blue blouse, and fresh underwear.

“The docs got her leveled off,” Aisha answered, “but it was a near thing.”

“You could have called me earlier.”

“And let you miss out on sleep? Sure. But that wouldn’t have helped the kids you’ve got to counsel today, would it?”

Megan made herself relax and breathe out. “No.”

“All you could have done was the same thing I was already doing: pray for that girl. I promise, I was doing enough for both of us.”

“I know.”

“Even had a couple of MPs in here helping. Between us, we got it all done.”

“You’re right.”

“Just because I called doesn’t mean I’m in a hurry to see you in here. I know you usually get up about this time, and I didn’t want you finding out about Lindsey from anyone else.”

“Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome. The docs say she’s going to be sedated most of the day. They don’t want to run the risk of her fighting to get out of bed and tearing open everything they had to do to save her. When you get rested, and when Lindsey gets rested, then we can see about you talking to her.”

“All right.”

“So my advice, girlfriend, is just do whatever you had planned to do today. Then come in for your regular schedule. It’s going to be a long day.”

Local Time 0624 Hours

After a quick shower instead of the bath she craved-with a house full of teens, hot water would be at a premium-Megan dressed, prayed for Goose, and went into the kitchen. She’d planned to make breakfast at home this morning, and she didn’t want to change that. With everything else that had gone awry in the world, she needed simple household chores as a touchstone.

“Hey, Mrs. G.” Gangly Brian Wright sat at the kitchen table with a PSP in his hands. He was thirteen and obsessed with video games. A mop of brown hair hung in his eyes.

He was a recent addition to the Gander home, brought in from his parents’ house only a few days ago. His dad was in eastern Europe at the moment, and his mom-one of the best women Megan had known-had disappeared in the rapture.

Brian had lived on his own for weeks. Megan had organized a search for children of military families who lived off-post. The provost marshal’s office had put the search teams together. They had most of the families squared away now, but new ones still came in every now and again.

“Good morning, Brian,” Megan said. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Some.” Brian’s fingers flew across the video game. He was ADHD, and Megan knew he often didn’t sleep well.

“Want to help me with breakfast?” Megan went to the pantry and peered in. Thankfully the military was bankrolling all the homes at this point. Especially the ones that had taken in stray teens whose families had gone missing.

“Girls’ work,” Brian replied scornfully.

“I’ll keep that in mind when it’s time to wash dishes and take out the trash. Even boys can do manual labor like that.”

Brian sighed theatrically. “Man, you’re tough.”

“Yep. Just be glad I don’t make you salute or drop and give me fifty every time you don’t ‘ma’am’ me.”

Brian paused his game and gazed at her. “Are you kidding me?”

“About the salute, the fifty, and the ‘ma’am-ing,’ sure. About having a choice between helping make breakfast or cleaning up after it, no.”

“The most I know about breakfast is pouring it out of a box and adding milk.”

That, Megan lamented, seemed to be the case with most of the kids she’d come in contact with. She took a magnetic Post-it pad from the front of the refrigerator, wrote COOKING LESSONS on it, and put it back.

“‘Cooking lessons’?” Brian asked. “For me?”

“For all of you. I’m quite sure the commissary could use the help, and you guys could definitely use lessons that will make you more autonomous.”

“What’s autonomous?”

“It means self-sufficient. Able to take care of your own needs.”

Megan took loaves of French bread from the pantry, cinnamon and powdered sugar from the spice rack, milk and eggs from the refrigerator, and sausage links from the freezer. “How do French toast and eggs sound this morning?”

“Great.”

“Good. Let’s try to keep the mess to a minimum.”

Local Time 0632 Hours

Preparing breakfast relaxed Megan as it always did. There was something about the simple task of making a meal for someone else to enjoy-although making breakfast for nearly thirty people was by no means simple-that grounded her. It was mindless labor, a series of movements that had been perfected over seventeen years of being a wife and mom.

God, thank You for this work right now. I don’t know how I’d keep it together if I didn’t have it.

As the kitchen filled with breakfast smells, teenagers started to pour from the bedrooms and game room like zombies in a horror film. Most of them weren’t verbally social in the mornings, but they liked to be around each other.

A few of the girls stepped in to help with the cooking. As they came on board, Megan fired up extra burners as well as three electric hot plates. Within minutes, the extra laborers had been absorbed into the process, and French toast started to pile up. That also signaled the feeding frenzy. Syrup flowed and smothered plates of powdered French toast.

Megan poured whole packages of sausage links into quart-size Dutch ovens full of water, brought them to a boil, and fished the sausages out. That way there wasn’t as much grease. Then she dumped the water and started all over.

“Everyone knows you have school today, right?” Megan asked.

A collective groan swelled up from the group.

“That’s what I thought,” Megan said. “Since this is Monday, a new chores list has gone up. Check it before you leave.”

That drew forth another groan.

The negative response actually made Megan feel better. If the teens were feeling good enough to complain about school and chores, they were getting closer to normal. At least, as normal as the world would ever be again.

For seven short years, Megan reminded herself. She looked around the group, suddenly realizing that Joey wasn’t among them. A wave of guilt washed over her. She was constantly overlooking him these days, it seemed, and she didn’t know why that was.

“Is Joey still asleep?” Megan asked.

The five boys who currently sacked out in Joey’s room shook their heads. “He wasn’t there when I got up, Mrs. G.,” one of them said.

“He was watching television this morning,” Snake said. He was the skater boy who’d turned up a few days ago. He still hadn’t told Megan what his real name was, and he didn’t have any ID on him. She was going to have to do some kind of paperwork on him eventually.

“Watching television?” Megan repeated.

“Yeah.” Snake shoved a triangle of syrup-covered French toast into his mouth, chewed briefly, and swallowed. Syrup ran down his chin, and he wiped it away on a sleeve.

“Ewww,” one of the girls said. “Maybe you want to chew your food next time.”

“What?” Snake asked in honest puzzlement.

“Joey,” Megan reminded.

Snake focused on her and nodded. “Yeah. Joey. Television.”

“What was he watching?”

“Surfing. Caught a little of the news. Saw a piece on there about your husband.”

Megan’s heart raced. She forced herself to be calm. “What about my husband?”

“He was in some kind of battle over there.” Snake shrugged.

One of the girls smacked Snake on the back of the head.

“Hey,” he protested.

“Maybe you could tell her what it said about her husband,” the girl said icily.

“He’s fine. He was running a supply route. Took some fire. They killed the bad guys. End of story.”

Megan breathed a sigh of relief, but she added another nugget of information to her cache about Snake. He was relaxed with the military-speak. Either he was a gamer or he had a parent involved in the armed forces.

“Probably catch it later, too,” Snake said. “That hot chick on OneWorld was covering the story.”

“We don’t refer to women as ‘hot chicks’ in my house,” Megan said.

“Yeah, well, if you saw this one, you might change your mind.” Snake colored. “I mean, if you were a guy.”

And he embarrasses easily, Megan noted. Maybe you’re not as tough as you act like you are, Snake.

“You are such a jerk,” Kendal said. She smacked the skater in the back of the head again.

“Hey,” Snake protested again and stepped to the side so he’d be out of reach. “Don’t be such a-” He brought himself up short. He’d already been warned about language.

“Neanderthal,” Kendal said, folding her arms and frowning with as much displeasure as a fifteen-year-old could muster. “Maybe you should find a cave to live in.”

“Enough,” Megan said, putting the teacher edge into her voice that she’d learned helped to keep order in her house.

The kids quieted. They kept passing food around.

“Joey was watching television,” Megan said. “Then what?”

Snake shrugged. “He blazed. Got up. Walked out. Sayonara, baby.”

“Did he say where he was going?” Megan didn’t feel good about Joey’s sudden departure. The last time he’d disappeared like that, he’d come back days later with his face a mass of bruises and afraid of his own shadow.

“I offered to go with him,” Snake said. “He told me no.”

“Did he say where he was going?” she repeated.

“No. He just left.”

“Was he upset?”

“I don’t know.”

“He knew Goose was all right?”

“Yeah. We talked about it.”

“What did he act like?”

“Like he wanted to go somewhere else. That’s why he left.”

Frustrated, Megan turned her attention back to the latest batch of French toast and barely managed to rescue it from burning. “Who has class with Joey?” she asked.

A few of the kids raised their hands. Most of the classes were a lot smaller these days. With none of the lower grades to teach, the teachers had divided up the rest of the students.

“If I haven’t heard from him before I leave, please let him know he’s supposed to call me. And make sure he does.”

They said they would.

This isn’t a problem, Megan told herself. God didn’t bring Joey back into your life just so you could worry about him all over again. God, please. My plate really isn’t big enough to handle this again.

But she kept thinking about the bruises on her son’s face and the fear in his eyes the night he’d returned to her.