Thankfully, Charlotte loved her carrier. She was alert, curious, and wanted to taste and touch everything within reach.
Milo wanted to join in everything, too. He was happy to make himself useful and volunteered to fill the sterilized water bottles from Molly’s well and wrap some venison jerky as a snack for the guards on duty.
He had his own mountain bike. She’d attached the bike trailer to the back so that he could pull supplies behind him. And wherever they went, Ghost followed.
Since she slowed to compensate for Milo’s shorter legs and Ghost’s limp, the ride into town took longer. The cool breeze whipped her hair back from her face. The sun warmed her skin.
As she entered Fall Creek’s once-vibrant downtown, she passed several folks on horseback. A couple of horse-drawn wagons, too. An old diesel tractor hauled a trailer lugging two-by-fours and window frames confiscated from abandoned homes to build more greenhouses.
Most people walked or rode bikes. A few drove ATVs to and from the community gardens, public trash dumps, latrines, and the blockades.
Filled sandbags were piled along the sidewalk, waiting to be distributed to various fighting positions and sniper hides as directed by Liam or Reynoso.
Patsy Snyder had reopened Friendly’s Grocery store as a local trading post for Fall Creek residents, a communal spot to stop in for gossip and socializing. Dave’s bar at the Fall Creek Inn was another hot spot.
Spring was in the air, and despite the looming threats, people were emerging from their winter shelters, stepping blinking into the sunshine.
Everyone dirtier, skinnier, and tougher, but alive.
There was life here.
Where there was life, there was hope.
Hannah clung to that hope as she dismounted and parked her bike next to a concrete barrier. Milo leapt off his bike, hurriedly lowered the kickstand, and ran off to greet Jonas and Whitney, who were both on watch duty. He left the water and snacks in the bike trailer.
“Milo, don’t forget—”
But he was gone. Ghost trotting after him, eager to be adored by the masses. Kicking her fat legs, Charlotte cooed and reached after her big brother.
Hannah patted her head. “He has the memory of a gnat, that one.”
Across the bridge, Old 31 featured a maze of strategically placed vehicles, concertina wire, and concrete barriers. Barbed wire lined the sides of the road to help prevent bad guys from bailing from their vehicles and flanking the barricade on foot.
Two dump trucks placed nose-to-nose blocked the road like a gate. A secondary defense behind the dump trunks composed of stacked dirt-filled barrels provided cover for various fighting positions in case an enemy force breached the trucks.
Perez jogged toward her from the opposite end of the barricade. She wore tan khakis, combat boots, and a hunter green fleece jacket. With her fierce expression, thick muscles, and the Sig Sauer MPX carbine gripped in both hands, she made for an intimidating opponent.
She spat on the ground when Hannah informed her of the news. “They’ve made their bed—now they can lie in it.”
“They’re our neighbors,” Hannah reminded her. “And we could use their help.”
Perez rolled her eyes. “They could use our help, you mean. Face it, we’re on our own, but that doesn’t mean we’re not gonna kick some righteous ass.”
Hannah shot her a tight smile. “At least someone’s optimistic.”
Perez fairly vibrated with combative energy. “Damn straight.”
Liam exited Vinson’s pharmacy across the street, took a moment to scan the area, then approached them. He carried both his M4 across his chest and his Remington 700 slung over his shoulder.
At the sight of him, her stomach fluttered. Ignoring it, Hannah repeated the news and told them what had happened with the radio.
“We’ve got the same problem,” Perez said. “Got reports from the scouts that the General’s men destroyed a couple of our repeater stations. It’s gonna make communicating with our forward observers a real pain.”
“Can we fix them?” Hannah asked.
“Probably not,” Liam said. “It’s too risky. The General will watch the repeaters, ready to spring a trap.”
“At least it’s not all of them,” Perez said. “The ones set up in town are still working—well, most of them. There’s that.”
Liam looked south across the barricade, brow wrinkled, his lips pursed.
Hannah shivered. “Will the Syndicate cross the border?”
Perez shielded her eyes. “I freaking hope not. Like one deadly enemy isn’t enough. We need two, now? I feel like we’re caught in a bad episode of the Twilight Zone.”