– Jon and Lori Brewer lived in the same ‘boonies’ the Stones called home, albeit along a different path through those non-distinct country roads.
The front of their home faced the snaking pavement of a rural route while the tall grass and rampant wild flowers of their back yard bordered thick wilderness. The quaint old cottage home oozed country charm as thick as molasses with potted plants and wind chimes dangling from the covered stoop.
Rich’s tires raised dust as he pulled into the small patch of dirt that served as both the Brewers’ driveway. He parked next to their white Explorer. Dick suspected Jon had purposely chosen a Ford over a Chevy, just for spite.
He rapped on the front door then walked inside without waiting for an invitation: knocking served merely a ceremonial purpose to the Brewers.
Lori paced with her arms crossed moving in and out of the early evening sunbeams streaming through the kitchen window. Rich gave her credit for not smoking a cigarette. His friend had kicked the habit a year ago but that day’s stress made a relapse understandable, maybe even expected.
Still, he should know better than to doubt her willpower. If she decided to stop smoking, then she would stop smoking. Of course, if she decided to give you a piece of her mind, you got it full bore. The word ‘subtle’ had no listing in Lori Brewer’s personal lexicon. Often times that attitude rubbed folks the wrong way. Occasionally she did so purposely to illicit a reaction. Probably not the best trait for a counselor.
Or was it?
Lori swiveled her head in his direction, rustling her shoulder-length brown hair.
'Oh great, well you got here in time to say good bye.'
'I came as fast as I could.'
Lori coated her words in frost as she said, 'I’m sure the little princess was happy to see you come running over here.'
'Whoa. Slow down. What's going on? You said Jon is getting called up? I thought he just got back from drills.'
Jon Brewer-crew cut in place-marched across the adjacent living room. He heard their conversation easily.
'This isn't a drill,' Jon told them both without looking as he searched behind the sofa. 'In an emergency like this they can call us up real fast.'
Stone recognized the stiff lip and wide eyes on Lori’s face, a combination of anger and disgust. He had seen the expression many times stretching all the way back to elementary school. She reserved the expression almost exclusively for her husband or parents although Rich had been on the receiving end on occasion, usually in regards to Ashley.
Lori’s next words explained her frustration.
'But you haven’t been called up yet, have you?'
Jon, hopping as he jammed a heavy work shoe on his left foot, peeked through the archway into the kitchen.
'I told you, my cousin heard the Governor has already made the decision to issue a full call-up. I might as well bug out instead of waiting around for the phone call, right?'
That, Rich knew, typified Jon Brewer: No waiting for things to happen; he lived by the doctrine of preemption.
Jon's cousin had been the subject of many late night beer-spiced conversations. That cousin worked as a civilian contractor in the Pentagon. Jon knew his direct line.
Richard asked, 'Where are you going? Indiantown Gap?'
'Yes,' Jon answered as he went searching for the second shoe.
'When do you leave?' Rich drifted to the archway between the kitchen and the living room where he watched Jon toss couch cushions.
Lori answered for him, 'He doesn’t have to leave at all!'
'I’m going right away. I want to get down there to help organize the call-ups.'
Jon found his other shoe and hopped again.
'That’s my hero,' Lori spiked her words with sarcastic venom.
'Wait a second.' Rich sensed a hidden motivation in Jon’s urgency. His question eased out slow with suspicion dripping from every syllable, 'What did your cousin tell you?'
'Just keep watching the news,' Jon said as he finished the second shoe.
Anger broiled inside Richard at the tease.
'What? What is going to be on the news?'
Jon-who at nearly six-nine stood almost a foot taller than Richard-came to the kitchen and hovered over his wife’s friend.
'West Point-poof! The Citadel-poof!'
'What?'
Lori cut in, 'Everyone at West Point and the Citadel vanished two hours ago.'
Jon clarified in forced flippancy, 'Abracadabra! Just like I-80; just like Wrigley field. Poof.'
Mr. Brewer watched with mild amusement as Richard digested that revelation.
Lori said, 'So my soldier-boy-husband figures he needs to get a jump on the call up orders that his cousin tells him are coming. What if those orders don’t come?'
Jon ignored her.
Richard, in a daze, asked, 'What does your cousin say about all this?'
The national guardsman savored his role as expert.
'It’s a military strike.'
'What makes you say that?'
Jon rolled his eyes at the newbie.
'West Point and The Citadel? Military schools. The teachers are some of the smartest fighting guys on the globe. Not to mention the students and cadets. We’re only lucky that it’s summer recess and there were a lot less people on campus.'
'No, no,' Richard did not buy it. 'Just a coincidence. Norwegians, baseball fans, and traffic on a highway have no military value.'
Jon threw an arm around Richard and walked the two of them toward his wife.
'This is how they got it figured. It’s like artillery. First, you fire a round and see how close you come to the target. Then you walk-in your fire, probably from spotters. Something like that.'
Richard deduced, 'They figure all those people are dead?'
'Wow, yeah, vaporized. Some sort of weapon that fried their bodies. They took out a bunch of civvies along the way until they finally found their range. Now they’ll start zeroing in on important things, like bases and stuff.'
Lori Brewer’s words carried more venom as she said, 'And my idiot husband is driving down to the Gap to be a part of a big military group. Nice target.'
Jon frowned.
'Someone has to be ready to fight. Sooner or later, they’re going to stick their heads up. That’s when we’ll pay them back.'
Richard asked the obvious question: 'Who?'
Jon normally offered an answer for everything. He could take wild ass guesses and make them sound reasoned and logical.
This time, Jon Brewer had no answer at all.
3. Chaos
'Wait a sec,' Rich whispered in Ashley’s ear.
She groaned and opened her eyes.
