Annette blanched. “How do we defend against that?”
“You don’t,” Liam said. “You run. Or you hide. But you better have a damned good hiding spot.”
Annette looked pensive for a moment, then her face brightened. “I might have an idea.”
“Spit it out,” Perez said. “We’re in sore need of ideas.”
“The high school and middle school were built in the early sixties during the Cold War. They both have large fallout shelters in the basement. We’ve been using them for desk storage and janitorial supplies for decades, but we could get a team to clear them out. Would that work?”
Liam mulled it over. “The walls are thick. It would make a defensible fallback position. We would need to sandbag everything, block windows with metal plating, place sandbags on the roof for firing positions.”
“And there’s the historic jail downstairs,” Hannah added. “That concrete is six inches thick at least—and underground. It’s not a huge space—maybe a hundred feet by seventy-five feet? But we can cram a couple hundred people in there. We’ll have to use buckets for toilets. It won’t be pretty, but if it keeps people alive…”
“We need a town-wide alarm system,” Reynoso said. “A signal for folks to retreat if hostiles breach the perimeter.”
Bishop ran a hand through his afro. “Crossway Church’s bell still works. It’s a pain to get up to the steeple, but once it’s ringing, you can hear it throughout town.”
“Good,” Dave said. “That should work.”
Hannah had her notebook out and was scribbling intently, eyes bright. “We’ll designate families for each space and coordinate team leaders, just like we’re doing with the farms. Once that bell rings, people need to move immediately.”
“So, what do we do next?” Annette asked.
As one, all eyes flicked to Liam.
Liam turned from the window. “You won’t like it.”
Dave raised both hands, palms out. “You’re our expert, Liam. We’ll defer to your judgement.”
“We need to be more than ready,” Liam said. “We need to strike first.”
The council members stared at him in shock, faces blank.
“What?” Dave sputtered. “With what army?”
“We don’t wait for the General to make his next move. That gives him too much power.
It makes us reactive instead of proactive. We go after him first. Not a full-frontal assault—we wouldn’t last ten minutes. Guerilla warfare. A coordinated sneak attack on weapons, fuel, and supplies. We’ll only have one shot. He won’t be expecting it. It’s our best—probably only—chance to take him by surprise.”
Perez leaned forward, her black hair slicked behind her ears, her expression intent. “Hell yeah. I’m in.”
“We have no hope of defeating him,” Liam warned her. “But we can make it harder for him. Eliminate or steal resources he’d use against us. Wear him down. Drain and weaken his soldiers as much as we can. Hungry soldiers aren’t so eager to fight.”
Annette looked sick. “That seems risky.”
Liam glanced at Hannah. Her gaze was steady, grim but undaunted. He took strength from her. “Everything we do or don’t do is a risk.”
Perez waved a hand, grimacing. “We’re waiting around to be attacked. It feels like death warmed over. Like we’ve already given up, like we’re just rolling on our backs and showing our bellies.”
“In other words, we agree with Liam,” Reynoso said wryly.
Weary nods around the room. Their faces were grave, expressions bleak but not yet broken.
Liam’s gut knotted. The threats facing Fall Creek loomed over them. The responsibility for their lives was a thousand bricks pressing down on his chest.
“Don’t forget about the Syndicate,” Perez said. “They’re still out there, too.”
Liam clenched his jaw. “I haven’t forgotten. Not for one second.”
With one last glance out the window, Liam headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Bishop asked.
“We’ve got a hell of a lot of work ahead of us. First, there’s someone I need to see.”
19
Liam
Day One Hundred and Seven
Liam shined the flashlight in James Luther’s face. “Looks like I have a use for you after all.”
Luther scratched his unruly beard, blinking blearily. He was rank. His rumpled clothing stank of sweat and B.O. and other bodily functions. “What time is it?”