“Okay, what’s next?” he asked.
Logan stifled a yawn and cleared his throat. “Our next course of action is to go to Marcus Hook.”
Gil frowned, but then he yawned and looked at the clock. “Alright, I assume this is to continue your investigation. So be it. You two will be leaving in the morning?”
“Yes, sir. Right after breakfast,” Logan said.
Chapter 8 – The Funeral
Captain Justin Smithson was usually good at keeping his emotions hidden, but he was having a hard time now. He didn’t like it. The president had directed the entire Marine contingent to the funeral, and they were ordered to wear their dress blues. It wasn’t that the president, the deceased president, was not worthy of a funeral with full honors, but Justin always wanted at least one Marine at Fort Detrick and one Marine in charge of the QRF. It made sense and he explained his logic, but the current living president would have none of it.
The four women had individualized coffins built. Nothing fancy, plain wood and gently used bedding was upholstered into the interior. Since the women had been burned beyond recognition, the coffins were nailed shut: no open viewing for this funeral.
Justin gave a final inspection of his Marines. Each of them had a distinct odor of mothballs from the uniforms, but all of them had fresh haircuts and looked the way Marines were supposed to look.
He lined them up along the coffins at parade rest, where they stood for the duration of the services. Thankfully, only one person spoke. Unfortunately, Gil’s eulogy lasted for over an hour. He spoke of how kind and loving his wife was. That lasted maybe a minute. The next hour consisted of how, if she were still alive, she would have accomplished great things and would have been the most successful president ever, had her life not been cut short by the savage massacre perpetrated by Zach Gunderson. He then began tooting his own horn. He vowed to not only fulfill her legacy, but he was going to in fact surpass it, although there were no specifics to this proclamation, only inane rhetoric. After much mind-numbing rhetoric, he climaxed his eulogy by proclaiming the history books were going to tell a glorious story of the VanAllens and how they lifted America out of darkness.
The funeral was held outside. The weather reflected the collective mood, a soupy gray and chilly. Justin watched the audience in detached amusement. Some people were dignified and polite, some rolled their eyes or shook their heads at some of Gil’s proclamations. Some simply stood and left. Justin noticed many of them headed toward a building commonly known as the party barn.
Finally, it came time for the Marines to perform their services. Taps was played. The twenty-one-gun salute was given. The flag, there was only one, was expertly folded and presented to Gil. After it was over, the Marines carried the coffins one at a time to an area inside the perimeter where a new chicken coop was going to be built, but Gil felt that instead it would be a good spot for a cemetery. Once it was finally over with, Justin made a head nod to his Marines and they too headed toward the party barn.
Chapter 9 – Marcus Hook
The Fitzgeralds were sitting at the back of the cafeteria, seemingly enjoying their meal, but in fact were speaking in hushed voices as they surreptitiously eyed the O’Malley brothers, who were currently sitting at a table with Roscoe and Johnny G. The brothers had shown up an hour ago and had been seemingly socializing with everyone, when in fact they were asking veiled questions about Rochelle VanAllen.
“They found the bodies,” Little Joe informed them.
“Yeah, no shit,” Riley retorted.
Little Joe gave his sister an impatient scowl before focusing on his father. “How in the hell did they find them? I mean, we did a good job of cleaning up.”
“They were cops, back in the day,” their father said. “I guess they were more than lazy donut eaters. Let’s remember the plan and stick to it. I’m going to do my part now.”
Riley and Little Joe watched as their father stood, casually stretched, and walked over to the four men.
“Gentlemen,” he said with an earnest expression. “May I join you for a couple of minutes?”
“By all means,” Logan replied.
Trader Joe made himself comfortable in a chair beside Johnny G and put his hands in a steeple before speaking.
“It is my understanding we were on the road to Marcus Hook on the same day the president was on the road travelling to Mount Weather.”
“That appears correct,” Logan said.
Trader Joe caught a subtle glance between Roscoe and Johnny G but acted as though he did not see it. “I suppose you have questions for us, but let me reiterate what we’ve already stated before, we did not encounter the president or her entourage. We only saw a few zeds, that was it.”
“Did you kill them?” Liam casually asked.
Trader Joe was expecting this question at some point, but he thought it would be under a more formal interrogation. He was about to answer, but then Liam spoke again.
“The zeds, did you kill them?” he clarified.
Trader Joe smiled easily, masking his relief. “The kids wanted to, but they were off the road a couple of hundred yards or so and didn’t pose any kind of immediate threat, so I told them to save their ammo.”
“Did you guys see any smoke, like something had been burning?” Logan asked.
Trader Joe made a point of frowning and rubbing his chin. “No, I don’t believe so. Hold on a sec.” He turned toward Little Joe and Riley and waved them over. “Did you two see any smoke that day we went to Mount Weather?”
Riley shook her head. Little Joe scrunched up his face as
