Mel Odom - Apocalypse unleashed

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.”