Steven Konkoly - Event Horizon

“You think?” Linda laughed, eliciting a chuckle from Samantha.

“I know, but here we are. Once the IT group finishes making sense of the surveillance gear, the next task will be to restore power to the gate,” said Kate.

“That’s just a flip of a switch. Puts the camera, intercom, gate motor and the keypad back into business—on battery power,” said Tim, raising an eyebrow.

“No worries,” Kate said. “Getting the backup solar array up and running will be your third job. If we run minimal equipment, the backup array should replenish the batteries at a fast enough rate to keep us in business.”

“I’ll need some young athletes to climb into the barn loft to connect the solar panel coupling. There’s a junction controller that looks like an electrical box and a plastic conduit tube running through the loft floor and down into the ground. I think you’re supposed to run wire down the tube and attach it to the house. Nothing is connected. That’s about the extent of my knowledge. Alex has a diagram.”

“We’ll put the kids to work figuring out the setup,” said Samantha Walker. “You said he had spare inverters and stuff like that? It sounds like we have to recreate the control element. Shouldn’t be too difficult if the system is like the one we have at home.”

“The basic concept is the same,” Kate said. “I hope.”

“Alex stored everything in giant plastic bins and labeled them,” said Tim.

“And everyone thinks Charlie is nuts?” Linda winked.

“Where the hell are they?” Samantha sighed.

“They’re fine,” said Amy Fletcher. “I can feel it.”

“They should have been back by now.”

“It’s still early,” Kate said confidently. “They didn’t plan to enter the city until dark. If Chloe and Ryan are holed up near Boston College, they’re looking at a fifteen-mile round trip on foot. That could take all night, especially if the city is hostile.”

Samantha shook her head and exhaled. Kate looked around the table. Despite a full night of sleep, they looked even more exhausted today.

“Waterboro was hostile,” muttered Samantha.

“Then it’s going to take a while. Alex is cautious,” Kate said. “Right now we need to get this place up and running. Once we get the solar panels feeding the batteries, we’ll activate the perimeter security system.”

“What about the other group?” asked Tim. “I suppose I’m in charge of that crew?”

“In title only,” said his wife.

“Funny how we all have that same arrangement with our husbands,” said Linda. “As long as they feel like they’re in charge, they stay out of trouble.”

Everyone but Tim laughed. The joke even managed to drag Kate momentarily out of her funk.

“Amy’s group,” said Kate, twisting her head toward Tim, “will do two things. First priority is camouflage. We have to make this place look like it’s only housing Mom and Pops Fletcher, plus their grandchildren. The downstairs needs to be cleared of any evidence suggesting otherwise. The garage windows need to be covered from the inside. Nailed shut with ply board. The door to the backyard from the garage should be locked and somehow reinforced so it can’t be kicked in. We can’t have anyone snooping around and making a casual discovery. Can the big doors be jimmied open?”

“I tried last night,” said Tim. “They feel solid, but I have no idea what might happen if someone really put some effort into lifting one of them.”

“It should hold. Charlie was worried about the same thing at home,” Linda said. “He nearly broke the damn door, but it held.”

“Okay. This is going to sound weird, but are your daughters familiar enough with firearms to load magazines and match them up with Alex’s weapons?”

“Alyssa and Sydney have been shooting and cleaning all of Charlie’s firearms for longer than I care to admit. They can figure it out.”

“Perfect. I know he has two more ARs in the basement. One is a .223, the other is a .308. There are a few pistols and shotguns. I think everyone should be armed. Alex has a Ruger 22, which might suit you or your son,” said Kate, nodding at Samantha.

“Danny can handle the .22. I’ll take one of the shotguns,” said Samantha.

“Linda, can you tell your daughters to load the shotguns with—”

“Number one buck?” said Linda. “Way ahead of you.”

Samantha shrugged.

“Number one is easier on your shoulders and still has the penetrating power that makes Alex happy. That’s all I know,” said Kate. “Once the firearm situation is sorted and the house is secure, the kids on the general prep team will join us on the perimeter, installing the surveillance gear. I’d like to have everything up and running by sunset.”

“Sandbags?” suggested Linda.

“I think it’s worth looking into, but only if we have spare bodies.”

“Sandbags?” said Samantha doubtfully.

“Is that really necessary?” asked Amy Fletcher, looking to her husband for support.

“I thought Alex was kidding,” admitted Tim.

Kate nodded. “I did too, but it doesn’t sound so crazy now. Not if we have a price on our heads.”

“How many sandbags are we talking?” asked Samantha.

“I’d have to look at the logbook tossed in with the empty bags, but I remember him saying something about a thousand, maybe more,” said Kate.

Samantha frowned. “What is he planning to do, line the outside of the house with sandbags?”

“No. Unfortunately, he planned to drag all of that crap inside the house,” said Amy. “I thought he was joking about the sandbags! We’ll have dirt floors!”

“Inside?” asked Samantha. “This is extreme, even for me.”

“Alex came up with a plan to create firing positions around the house, in front of enough windows to cover a full 360 degrees. Each ‘position,’” Kate stated, using air quotes, “is three feet wide and two feet thick, with another foot coming back from the wall to give you some wraparound protection. You place a three-by-three piece of sheet metal against the wall under the window, then build the barrier.”

“He has sheet metal in the basement?”

Kate nodded slowly. “He has sheet metal in the basement. Pre-cut.”

“I thought those rifles could shoot through cars,” said Samantha.

“According to Alex, a bullet from an AR will lose enough momentum passing through sheet metal to burrow harmlessly into the dirt. He planned to build two or three larger safe boxes within the house, with sandbag walls on four sides. If you can’t get to one of the firing positions or hostiles break into the house, you throw yourself over the three-foot wall into the safe box and figure out your next move. With hostile militia in the picture, I don’t think it’s a bad idea to start filling sandbags once we finish the higher priority chores.”

“I’m sold,” said Samantha. “I think we should work on the safe boxes first, then key positions around the house. Once we get the surveillance system sorted out and the power running, I’ll put the crew to work filling sandbags.”

“What do you think about taking the screens out of the windows?” Linda asked. “For shooting and looking through binoculars.”

“Maybe just the firing positions?” Samantha suggested.

“If we do one, we have to do them all,” Tim countered, “otherwise they’ll be able to map out our gun positions.”

“We’ll give that to Amy’s group,” stated Kate. “Prioritized ahead of the sandbags. Now the hard part…”

“The hard part?” said everyone in near unison.

“Waking seven exhausted teenagers at 6:30 in the morning and convincing them to work for the rest of the day.”

“No convincing necessary. They work or they don’t get fed. Right?” Linda said with a smirk.