The First Hours Read online

  Tom opened his bedside drawer and took out his service weapon. There was no need to check it, the gun was always fully loaded and slid his bare feet into his moccasins.

  Carrie said she saw a light out near the shed, so Tom crept to the kitchen window and looked out.

  “Damn,” he said and felt in the silverware drawer for a small Maglite always kept there. Silently he opened the backdoor, “lock this behind me,” he whispered to Carrie.

  He listened for the snick as the door was locked and pressed himself against the side of the house until his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. With only the thinnest fingernail of the moon, the yard between him and the shed wasn’t lit up and the yard light not working gave Tom the advantage. He knew where every rock, dip or stumbling block was in his yard. Fortunately, the burglar did not and was forced to use his light.

  Tom crept up behind him and watched to see what he was doing. The person, Tom could only assume it was a man, had the light pressed up against the only window on the shed. His other hand was cupped close to his face while his nose was tight to the glass.

  Tom felt justified for the gun in his hand when the thief muttered, “Yes…I knew it had to be here somewhere.”

  Tom, careful to remain silent, stepped away, and tried to blend in with the shadows. He wanted to see exactly what the person had in mind before he scared the crap out of him. Another step back and he was against the trunk of the only pine tree big enough to hide him.

  At that point, Tom only had the guy for trespassing. As far as Tom knew the person hadn’t broken in anywhere and nothing was lying around for him to steal. He waited to see if the person was a thief or only a nosey neighbor. As soon as his mind had come out of the fog of sleep and he had processed what Carrie was telling him, he’d thought the burglar had to be Mitch. He hadn’t believed the kid would give up on the car so quickly.

  Seeing the bulkier mass pressed up against the window made him re-think his identity. He knew that voice but from where. He wracked his brain, trying to put a name to it. He didn’t have the opportunity to hear too many people whisper, and only one name came up.

  He waited while the person made his way to the people door on the end facing the drive. The guy tried shaking the handle, and Tom wondered why he hadn’t tried the door first. He would have found it locked, but the sequence the guy was using didn’t make sense, but then he remembered the doorknob used to stick until he had fixed it. There were only two other people who knew that, and one was Teagan.

  Tom crept up behind the guy and pressed the barrel of the gun into the man’s spine. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t shoot you right now, Simon. I’ve got you for criminal trespass and breaking and entering.” He pushed the barrel harder against Simon’s back, forcing him up against the door. Slipping the Maglite into his waistband, he put his free hand on the back of Simon’s neck and pushed. He heard the metallic clink as the lockpicks hit the stoop.

  “You can’t shoot a man for looking.” Simon struggled to turn around, but Tom ground his hand against Simon’s neck harder, forcing his cheek to lay against the door.

  “Who’s going to stop me and for that matter who’s even going to know?”

  Simon laughed, but it was forced and held just a touch of hysteria. “Come on Tom. Hey, don’t be like that. You and I are in this together. We both want the same things. Don’t we?”

  “Slide down to your knees and keep your hands above your head.” Simon didn’t move until Tom relaxed the hold he had on his neck. “Do it now!”

  Instead of lowering himself slowly, Simon let his knees buckle, pulled his arms down and seemed to be reaching for his holster, Tom smashed his pistol on the back of Simon’s head dropping him like a wet noodle.

  “Carrie, bring the cuffs off my Sam Brown and hurry,” Tom was just a little breathless. His heart threatened to jump through his chest wall, and he wondered if this was the big one. His heart galloped in staccato against his ribs, and Tom felt weak. He sagged to his knees beside Simon.

  Before Tom could self-diagnose his symptoms further, Carrie thrust a paper bag at him, “Breath into that. Long slow breaths.” She dropped to one knee and put the cuffs on Simon’s wrists.

  Tom was deep breathing into the bag when Carrie turned around and knelt in front of him and pulled his hand and bag gently away from his face, “You okay now. Just take slow deep breaths. I did that once before too. You were hyperventilating. It almost feels like you’re having a heart attack. Right after Brent died, I used to have them and panic attacks all the time. The more I had them, the more I felt I was losing control. The one thing I should have had control over was my own body, and it was betraying me too. It scared me so bad, I learned to control them, and now I don’t have them anymore. The doctor wanted to put me on medication, but I refused. Drug dependency is too rampant nowadays. They all want to write you a prescription instead of getting to the underlying cause.”

  It was the longest string of sentences Tom had ever heard from Carrie. She wasn’t one to get into her personal life, so for her to divulge that she had problems was an eye-opener. He’d always respected her ability to remain cool and calm under trying circumstances, especially at work and he was used to the levelheaded Carrie.

  A panic attack? Hyperventilating? Tom had never experienced either one before. He shrugged, “I thought I was having the big one and was going to beg you to look after Teagan, but she’s not here now, is she?”

  Carrie sat on Simon as he began to struggle, accompanied by soft moans. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll be still until we figure out what we’re doing with you. I’m kind of leaning Tom’s way about digging a hole with your name on it.” Carrie reached down and unsnapped Simon’s holster and pulled out his standard-issue Glock.

  Tom heard her snigger softly and almost ruined her statement by laughing. In truth, Tom wasn’t sure what to do with Simon and guessed he’d better find out why he was breaking into Tom’s garage.

  “Let’s roll him over.”

  Carrie moved off the deputy, and with Tom’s help rolled him onto his back. Tom shined his light directly into Simon’s eyes. The man squinted and turned his face away.

  “I bet that hurts. Doesn’t help that headache at all does it?”

  “I’m gonna kill you for this Cooper. You have no right!”

  Tom grabbed Simon by the elbow and pulled him up, so he was leaning against the door. “I have every right. Why are you here in the middle of the night trying to break into my garage?”

  “I wasn’t really breaking in. I just needed the car. You can’t have a sheriff’s department without transportation.”

  “You needed the car? My car? You needed my car?” Tom yelled at him. “This town is so small you can walk end to end in 10 minutes. What did you need to steal my car for?”

  “In case you forgot we cover the whole county. I’m pretty sure once the phones come back up, we’re going to get more calls than we can handle and having a car will make it that much easier.”

  “In case you forgot, the phones won’t be coming back on, so no one is going to be calling, and unless someone has a way to convey that we are under Marshall Law, we no longer count. It’s every man for himself and his family. My suggestion to you would be to take off that damn uniform and see what you can do to help your family survive. All you are going to accomplish by wearing the uniform is to set yourself up as a target. You’re going to find that no one will respect the office or law enforcement of any kind as soon as people realize you can’t do anything for them.”

  Simons tone had changed after listening to Tom, “So what am I supposed to do? Forget I’m a deputy and ignore any pleas for help? Everyone I meet wants or needs something. I tell them to wait for FEMA to get here, but what are they supposed to do until then?”

  Tom shook his head, “I can’t tell you what to do, so I guess you do whatever you think is best, but believe this, those people will turn on you when you don’t provide for them. Because most of them live
with few resources and even less in their cupboards and they will do anything to survive. This isn’t going to end well for anyone who doesn’t hand over what they do have. Simon, the best thing you can do is go home and look after your parents any way that you can. I meant it when I said it was every man for himself.”

  “You going to uncuff me?” Simon asked.

  Tom did but stepped away from Simon and held his light on the man to partially blind him. Simon brought his arm up in front of his face. Tom questioned giving Simon his gun back, knowing it could be used against him or Carrie, but how could he send the man on his way with no protection? To get home, Simon had to pass by the trailer park, where Tom dropped the injured man off. His uniform itself could cause more significant problems for Simon.

  Simon wasn’t all bad, he was young, impulsive and too gung-ho to further his career. It was like the plane crash, even though there was nothing they could do, he had to defy Tom and go see it no matter what. Tom would be amazed if Simon made it through the next month.

  “Tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to give you this flashlight and your gun. You’re going to keep the light on the road in front of you until you’re out of sight. If I see the light stop or come back, I will pick you off like a ripe plum.”

  Simon started to laugh, but when Carrie bumped his arm, he clamped his mouth shut. “You’re going to make me walk back to town? What about that car? No one’s using it.”

  “True, no one’s using it because it doesn’t run. Mitch screwed the timing or something up when he tried to steal it. I barely got it home running on half the cylinders before it died.”

  “You walked out here, didn’t you?” Carrie intervened. “Guess it wasn’t too far to come one direction, seems fair to me to say that it’s the same distance back.”

  Tom hoped he sounded truthful, but he couldn’t have Simon coming back and taking it while he was gone. Their lives might depend on having that car if they were forced into leaving. As soon as it was full daylight, he would remove the points and distributor cap and put them in a safe place. Unless someone had the necessary parts and the mechanical no-how, the car would never start.

  Simon laughed sarcastically, “Yeah, like you could hit me from that distance…” he must have realized that if he didn’t shut up, he might not be leaving at all.

  “I’ll walk. No problem,” Simon quickly added. He took the flashlight and his Glock when Tom handed each to him and hurried around the side of the house with Tom and Carrie right behind him.

  Sitting on the front veranda, they watched his stumble his way down the drive. “Keep an eye on him. I need to get something,” Tom told Carrie and went in the front door. As soon as Tom touched the doorknob, he realized the door was unlocked. He thought maybe Carrie had opened it but wasn’t sure. They would have to do better than that if they were going to remain safe.

  Tom followed the hallway to the guest bedroom. The bed had always been a fascination to the people who slept in it. Built by Tom’s grandfather long before Tom was born and passed to his mother when she married, the bed had not only contained the secrets of the couples who slept in it, but it had a secret of its own. His grandfather had built it on a pedestal with drawers on each side and intricate molding around the base.

  Tom went to the foot, and after turning one of the carved flowers, he heard a click and a 14-inch section gave way, allowing him to insert his fingers and slide a hidden drawer out. At one time the long drawer had hidden the .308 and the 30.06, but now it held one of his prized possessions. Carefully he pulled out a slim metal case. Tom opened it and studied his gas-operated, semi-automatic, Springfield M25. It was the special edition honoring, Carlos Hathcock, the U.S. Marine Corps sniper who became famous during Vietnam. It was chambered the same as his old .308 and weighed less than thirteen pounds. He’d bought a half-dozen extra 10 round magazines and 500 rounds of 180-grain sp. bullets off the internet. He had the magazines and the ammunition weeks before the rifle came in. Tom knew it was probably overkill with the amount of ammunition, but the deal was too good to pass up.

  Tom had saved for two years to buy the rifle and realized how close he had come to not having it in time. He had spent the added money to purchase a thermal imaging scope and after careful consideration had selected the Armasight Zeus 640. The features and benefits of thermal imaging over the night vision had determined which to buy. He liked the idea of being able to use it under both daytime and nighttime circumstances. He had considered night vision for the dollar value, but his only close friend from his time in the Army had talked him into the thermal imaging.

  With the case resting on his lap, he thought about Eric and hoped his friend was okay. He and his wife, Renee had moved to the Salem area from Slidell Louisiana, the previous summer when Eric retired from the Army. Eric Thibodaux was the main reason that Tom was prepared for every emergency. Born and raised in Louisiana, half black and 100% Cajun, he liked to brag to anyone who would listen to him. Eric’s parents had been caught in the fiasco of hurricane Katrina in 2005 and had it not been for Eric’s preps, they would have starved waiting on FEMA to do anything. The magnitude of the hurricane; category 5 when it made landfall in Florida and dropped to a Cat 3 by the time it reached Louisiana. Katrina was considered one of the worst natural disasters to strike the United States. By the time Katrina had run her deadly course, she had over 1800 deaths to her credit and thousands displaced when the flood walls around the city of New Orleans failed.

  While Eric probably hadn’t considered an apocalyptic event quite like what had befallen them now, he had remained vigilant about his preparations. Tom wondered how long it would take for Eric and Renee to come down. Living inside the Salem city limits, Tom was sure it wouldn’t take much to push Eric and Renee out.

  “Mr. Cooper?” Nancy called from the doorway, “Carrie said to tell you that she watched the light until she couldn’t see it anymore and wanted to know if that was good enough or did you want her to stay on the porch?”

  “What? Oh, no, Nancy and tell her she can come in and to lock the deadbolt.”

  Tom couldn’t believe he’d spent that much time reminiscing. Seeing his gun case had brought back memories. Tom slid the fireproof case back into the drawer, closed it, and turned the latch. He didn’t need it now that Simon had gone away. If Carrie couldn’t see his light anymore, Simon had to have gone down the hill. Not even the thermal scope would let Tom pick him out if he dropped below the line-of-sight.

  Tom didn’t trust Simon, but for some reason, Simon’s attitude had changed since he’d left the office the morning before to see the crashed airplane. He was still cockier than he had the right to be. Tom hoped Simon would follow his advice and go home to help his parents. Tom knew they were older, and both had medical problems. If Tom’s thoughts were correct, and he really had no doubt they were, anyone with severe medical issues wouldn’t live long. He could only imagine the distress in long term medical facilities. The people on life-support or even those with pacemakers.

  For the first time, Tom was thankful neither of his parents was around to witness the devastating blow inflicted on mankind. This would not be a quick fix with transformers needing to be fixed or replaced, and truthfully, Tom couldn’t be sure what had happened. He needed to connect with a guy he knew who was not only a prepper, but a ham radio operator as well. If anyone had some gossip to verify Tom’s thoughts, it would be this guy.

  Tom was sure any early efforts would not be on the west coast. It was doubtful FEMA would even get the chance to help the smaller towns. They only had so many resources to distribute; they would run out long before they attended to the larger cities. No government agency was capable of completely taking care of every American all at once. They should have found that out with the fiasco of Katrina. The agency had failed then, and Tom was sure they would fail this time but on a much larger scale.

  After Tom told Nancy and Carrie to go back and get another couple of hours rest, he hurried out to the shop. W
ith the distributor and points tucked safely away in a coffee can and hidden in a long line of coffee cans on a shelf, Tom took the keys from the ignition. Teagan’s perfume still lingered in the interior, and Tom had to use every bit of control he had not to jump in his car and go screaming down the highway. He would have no idea where to start looking until daylight. She was a smart girl, and he knew she could walk in the door at any time. It would be pointless to go running off in the middle of the night when if she were out there, more than likely she would be holed up somewhere safe. He could drive right by her in the dark, and she wouldn’t even know it was him.

  As the sun began its climb for the day, Tom sat on the front porch, contemplating what to do. He was torn about taking Carrie and Nancy with him, but he had more significant concerns about leaving them. While Carrie was proficient with a firearm, she had never had to use it to defend herself. She had used the butt of one to knock Simon out but never shot at a living being. Target practice and being good at hitting the paper target was a far cry from shooting a moving body. Even when hunting a person’s heart rate changes as well as their breathing and just blinking an eye could throw the aim off enough to miss the targeted animal completely. He couldn’t decide if she would be an asset or a liability. He and Teagan had taken Nancy to the range with them on more than one occasion, but she was a timid shooter and couldn’t remember to keep the barrel pointed in a safe direction.

  “Don’t think you’re going to leave me behind. I see those wheels turning, and it’s not going to happen,” Carrie handed Tom a steaming cup of coffee.

  He stared at the cup before taking it, “Where did you get this? You made it?”

  “You do own a percolator, and I found the coffee in the cupboard and used the extra burner on the barbeque. It wasn’t hard.” Carrie focused on him, “Tom, before you go thinking otherwise, I’m going with you to find Teagan. I love that girl as if she were my own and have been involved with her since the day you brought that sweet baby home. Besides, I can be watching the sides of the roadway while you’re watching out in front of us and driving.” Carrie settled into the chair beside Tom and sipped her coffee, “I guess someday we’ll be out of this.” Carrie held her cup up to indicate she meant the coffee.