The standoff lasted most of the hour. There was one, brief attempt by the attackers to advance on the farm. It happened just after the APCs had stopped their fire in order to let the gun barrels cool. The opposing force took that opportunity to break cover and move towards the farmhouse.
The gloaming of early dusk was falling, and that made target acquisition harder, but Ace was able to pick off two of the attackers in short order from his perch near the roof at the back of the house. He was glad that there were no enemies to the east of the farm. Of course, they might try a flanking action, and if they did, he’d probably be taken out. Nevertheless, he needed to keep the enemy from advancing. He put their numbers at less than ten men. Now, even if the APCs and other offensive fire hadn’t hit any of the attackers so far, they should be down to eight or less.
Just then, the APCs opened up again, taking out three more members of the advancing force. One of the APCs began moving across the farm’s yard, heading towards the sniper who was somewhere out in the field towards Henry Stolzfus’s place. When the APC got in range, they lit up the woodpile, and the fire coming from that direction ceased forever.
The incoming fire slowed to a near stop after the failed advance, but it picked up again about ten minutes later. Ace was expecting another attack, and was readying himself and his weapon, when he saw to the north a column of military vehicles approaching.
“I sure hope that’s Clive’s men,” he said to himself under his breath.
Down in the bunker, Veronica tried to make her guests comfortable, but Charlie was beside himself in fear and anger, and it took everything the two women could do to calm the young boy down. Elsie was finally able to get the boy to lie down, and before long, he curled up on a blanket, sobbing into his arms. Elsie decided to give him some time, so she kissed the top of his head, and went to join Veronica.
Veronica sat at the same desk where the inhabitants of the farm had spent many a day and night, holding long vigils after the bombs dropped. She’d sat at this desk, standing her watch over the Geiger counter readout, making tick marks into Clive’s notebook, and sometimes crying—much like Charlie was crying—over the condition of her own son. Now, she was leaned back in the chair. Peter’s backpack was sitting on the desk, and she was touching it softly, her mind in another place, when Elsie walked in.
“I think he might eventually fall asleep,” Elsie said. “Crying takes a lot out of you. I lost my husband in an attack not unlike this one. What was it? Weeks ago?”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Elsie,” Veronica said. “My boy died only a few hours ago. Right next door.”
“Oh, my—,” Elsie said, and put her hand over her mouth.
“They’ll keep his body over there — the Amish will — in a cold room, until spring comes and we can bury him.”
Elsie’s face was frozen in shock.
Veronica raised her hand in gesture of peace. “It looks like all three of us down here have lost our families.”
With that, there was silence for the span of a few minutes. Neither of the two women knew what to say, but they both knew that everything that had happened—all of it—was unspeakable.
After a few more moments, Veronica looked at Elsie and smiled.
“I know this backpack,” she said.
Elsie blinked. “Really? Do you know Peter?”
“I don’t know Peter, but I know this pack.”
“That sounds… impossible,” Elsie said, shaking her head.
Veronica pushed the pack over to Elsie. She was still smiling.
“Oh, I’m not accusing Peter, or anyone else, of stealing it. A lot has happened since all of this began, and I don’t pretend to know what occurrences have led us all here. I’m just speaking factually. I know that pack.” She pushed a stray strand of hair out of her face.
“Do me a favor, Elsie, and unzip it. Unless something has changed, or someone repacked it, or… I don’t know… maybe I’m altogether wrong; anyway, there should be a blue box in there. Take it out and open it up.”
Elsie was sitting in stunned disbelief. She didn’t know what to think. She unzipped the bag and, sure enough, there was a small blue box inside the pack.
“What’s in it?” Elsie asked.
Veronica smiled. “When I gave it to Clay, the kind and wonderful man who originally owned that pack, it was just a meaningful gift—a symbol of what I thought he was looking for. Now—,” she stopped. She took a deep breath before continuing. “Now, I’m guessing that Clay is dead, and what’s in that box could very well save this new world of ours.”
“Really?”
“I don’t know. You see, it’s a special variety of gourd corn. It’s a non-hybrid seed corn that grows well in almost any environment. It is disease resistant, and it resists crossing with hybridized and manufactured corn varieties. We’re going to need this, Elsie, to save the world.”
Elsie carefully opened the blue box, and in it, was a hefty packet of corn seeds. There was a note too.
Clay,
Sometimes we just need to start anew. We need to plow, and plant, and harvest. Maybe that way, we’ll get past all that we’ve lost.
“That’s you!” Elsie said.
“That’s me,” Veronica replied.
She smiled. She had found her Archimedean point.
“I wonder what happened to Clay?” Elsie asked.
“God knows.”
Elsie sat for a moment, looking at the corn. She glanced over, and through the door, she could see that Charlie, indeed, had fallen asleep.
Veronica noticed too, and she nodded at Elsie. “It sounds like it has either slowed, or stopped up there. I’m going to go up and check things out.”
“Do you think you should?” Elsie asked.
“I don’t know, Elsie, but I’m going to. Do you mind if I take Peter’s pack? If I find him, I’d just like to ask him if he knows what happened to my friend.”
Elsie didn’t mind. She’d lost friends, too.
Inside the RV, Clive and Red Beard were talking. The gunfire outside had slowed for a moment, and they were trying to decide if they should do something other than huddle inside the vehicle.
“We should go check on Veronica,” Red Beard said.
“You’re probably right. She just lost her boy, and now we’re in a gunfight. Wouldn’t hurt to go check on her.”
“Let’s go.”
The two men slowly opened the RV door. There was sporadic gunfire here and there, as the two friends crouched low next to the RV.
In the distance, they could see the lights of the militia contingent. Clive let out a happy yelp, and he slapped Red Beard on the back. “We’re saved!” he said.
“Well, let’s get to Veronica,” Pat said. “There’s Peter, coming around the house, and it looks like Ace is with him. Maybe it’s all clear.”
It wasn’t. More gunfire erupted. Clive watched as the militia vehicles screeched to a stop, and the militiamen started pouring out in every direction. A firefight erupted, just as Clive and Red Beard reached the area where the drive split, with part of it heading towards the barn. Looking to his right, Red Beard saw Cole and Natasha coming from the barn, and he waved for them to stay put.
Ace and Peter were still moving forward towards the RV with their weapons readied, and that was when Red Beard heard Ace shout.
The militia flushed an enemy gunman from the ridge opposite the house, and as he ran from his cover, a militia bullet hit him in the back. He skidded to the ground and rolled and, despite his wound, in one complete motion, he popped up and raised his rifle to fire.