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  In Defense of Home

  Random Survival Book 6

  Ray Wenck

  Glory Days Press

  Columbus, Ohio

  Copyright © 2021 by Ray Wenck

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission.

  Glory Days Press

  Columbus, Ohio

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Layout © 2016 BookDesignTemplates.com

  Random Survival Book 6/ Ray Wenck.—1st ed.

  ISBN 978-1-7360350-3-0

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  In Defense of Home (Random Survival, #6)

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  Other Titles | Random Survival Series Danny Roth Series

  The Dead Series Pick-A-Path Series

  Stand Alone Titles

  Short Stories

  Co-authored with Jason J. Nugent

  The Historian Series

  Bridgett Conroy Series

  Dedication

  This story is dedicated to all those who, during a pandemic, chose to do the right things for the betterment and safety of those around them. It is also dedicated to those who went that extra distance to spread cheer and love during these difficult times.

  Acknowledgments

  I am often asked what it is like to write apocalyptic stories in the time of a pandemic, especially since the catastrophic event in the story is also a pandemic. It does bring up interesting correlations. Although the virus in my story was fast-acting and didn’t give scientists a chance to react and develop a vaccine, it does have one thing in common. It is changing.

  I have stated before that my belief and fear is not that we will succumb to a massive global nuclear event but that we will come up against a virus that morphs faster than we can to keep it in check. We are now seeing variations of the original strain pop up around the world. Though it makes for great suspenseful fiction, the reality is terrifying.

  Do I believe this will be the virus that brings us to our knees? No, but it certainly has made us more aware of the possibility. It has also taught us to be more prepared for whatever may come next.

  I wish to thank all of those wonderful and dedicated people on the front lines of this war. I pray for your health and your strength.

  Book six in the Random Survival series brings to a conclusion the storyline that was introduced in A Journey to Normal. Where it goes from here, well, I don’t even know. Thanks for your support.

  I’d like to thank Steve Wilhelm for another fine job of the editing and Mibil art for their cover design.

  Until next time, read all you want, I’ll write more.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Britta watched from the cover of a small copse of trees just off State Route Two as three military trucks passed heading west. They looked like HMMWV M1165 variants that someone had adapted in their garage. Each had a Browning fifty caliber machine gun mounted to the platform. They now possessed two of the same vehicles back at the town. She knew where the vehicles came from and who was on board. The medical facility was sending out a team, but for what purpose and why such a large force. Was there an imminent threat approaching, or were they out hunting for new guinea pigs to experiment on?

  She glanced back at her team. The three women each had vantage points and their weapons ready should the need arise. She met Maretha’s expressionless eyes. They offered nothing. The other two, Alishia and Mariah, equally as trained but less skilled than Maretha, were as calm.

  The light armored trucks moved down the road. She waited for them to be nothing more than dots on the horizon before giving the command to rise. With a head motion, Britta sent Alishia to the point and Mariah to rear guard. Maretha moved next to her matching her steps.

  “Thoughts?” Britta asked.

  They were a full minute in coming. Britta waited patiently, knowing her friend and most trusted ally was giving the question the time it merited. “It’s a larger team than they usually send out for daily patrols. They are heading west. Although our normal search zone was east, we know there is an encampment of about thirty people a few miles west.”

  “You think that’s their target?’

  “I do not know. They have been there for a while now, and the military has never bothered with them before.”

  “They might have good reason now. They need test subjects for their new vaccine.”

  Maretha pondered the statement.

  They had been on the road for more than an hour since being exiled from the town she had helped build. As much as she tried not to, she harbored resentment over her fate, both toward the council and her friend and co-founder, Iso. She understood it was politics, but the eviction had hurt. Maretha, Alishia, and Mariah had not been included in that verdict. They thought the decision unfair and decided to travel with her rather than stay with people who did not appreciate or support them. Britta argued against their coming but, in truth, was happy for the company.

  “Didn’t your new male friend say his camp was to the wes
t?”

  Britta frowned at the use of ‘male friend’ but did not comment. Instead, she focused on what Mark had told her about his community. It was large and to the west about seventy miles. They’d traveled perhaps four. Not that they were heading there, even though she’d been invited, or at least that’s what she told herself.

  But as she walked, she started to fit pieces together. Dr. Ohtanda did not appear to be a person unused to getting her way. She did not want to let Mark and his daughter, Becca, go. Would she send a team out to recapture them? Of course, she would.

  Britta swung her gaze toward Maretha. Without a word, the other woman nodded. “Let’s hurry to the barricade,” Britta said. “If the trucks stopped there, we’ll observe and decide what to do. If they passed through—” she didn’t have to finish.

  “We’ll need transport if we are to get there in time to warn them,” Maretha said.

  They broke into a jog. Fifteen minutes later, the barricade across Route Two became visible. They slowed and veered off the road to approach unobserved. The barrier was made up of cars and trucks and had walls built up on both sides, allowing the people who lived there to walk across the vehicles' tops like they were ramparts. In the center, two vans were being maneuvered back into place, having been moved to allow the military convoy through. They could just make out the form of the rear truck as it continued to head west.

  “Guess we know where they’re going now,” Maretha said.

  Though there was no proof and thousands of places they could be going, Britta had a nagging and unshakeable feeling Maretha was right.

  They turned and moved north, almost to the Lake Erie shoreline, to avoid contact with the barricade people. Then they resumed a western heading until they were far enough away to return to the road. Once there, Britta sent her team in search of a vehicle that might still contain some of its precious fuel. That task took longer than her patience allowed but was finally resolved when Mariah cried out, “Here. I’ve got one.”

  Mariah had the steering column apart by the time they reached her. It was a skill she taught her entire team. Even though the use of vehicles was forbidden because they were noisy and drew too much attention, she wanted everyone to be able to hotwire a car in case of an emergency. A minute later, the engine turned over and they were driving at high speed.

  “Careful we don’t get too close to the convoy,” Britta said.

  Maretha rummaged through the glove box. “No map. How do we find an alternate route?”

  No one had the answer.

  Mariah said, “What about the turnpike?”

  “Do you know how to get there?” asked Alishia.

  “It’s someplace to our left.”

  Britta said, “Make the turn at the next main road. Hopefully, there’s a ramp. Look for signs that say 80. They’ll be in blue.”

  “Do you know where you’re going?” Maretha asked.

  “Mark said it was about fifteen miles west of the city. The turnpike should go right past it. If the convoy stays on Route Two and we can get to the turnpike, we should arrive well before they do.”

  Alishia pointed. “There’s the sign for 80.”

  Mariah made the turn. Four miles later, they found the turnpike ramp. Long-abandoned vehicles crowded the road. Many had been gone through by scavengers, leaving the doors open and the path more restricted. Several times Alishia got out and closed doors so they could continue. Each time they did, Britta and Maretha kept their weapons pointed out the windows in case of an ambush.

  Progress was much slower than anticipated, but Britta still felt they were ahead of the convoy. As they picked up speed, she sat back and relaxed. Twenty minutes later, they spotted the city’s skyline in the distance to the north. They were getting close. “Let me know when you reach fifteen miles past the city,” she said to Mariah.

  The city came and passed. Two minutes later, the car sputtered and cruised to a stop, out of gas.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Early the first morning after his return, Mark realized how difficult things had been, both physically and mentally. His muscles ached, his body bruised, and his mind was unwilling to shut down, allowing him the rest he so desperately needed. In the end, he got up from the couch he now slept on, glanced at the closed door of the bedroom he once shared with Lynn and went into the kitchen. He collected the makings for coffee, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb the other members of the household. He then eased himself out the rear door.

  He set the mug, filter, and coffee on the table and walked to the outdoor water pump. They had running water in the house thanks to a windmill they’d constructed several months back, but it made too much noise. The mineral water from the well would work fine.

  He added a small amount of wood to the smallest of the three fire pits, set the kindling ablaze, and placed the battered well-used pot on the grill set over the pit. Then Mark sat back on the picnic bench and stared off into the starlit sky.

  So much had happened since what he’d learned was a bio-engineered disease had been released to wreak havoc and death across the country. It was still unknown whether the release had been accidental or a purposeful attack. They might never know the entire truth, but at this point, it didn’t matter. What did matter was the knowledge obtained from Dr. Ohtanda. The virus was still inside everyone and may be morphing into a new, deadlier strain if that was even possible. The thought was mind-numbing.

  He looked around at the dark shapes and envisioned all they had accomplished. What did it all matter if they were all going to die again anyway? His memories roamed, first landing on the horrible doctor who had a hand in creating such a deadly and efficient killer. He should have killed her when he had the chance. Blood boiling, he felt his breathing change and worked to relax. To do that, he changed to different memories, but they were all so intertwined. It was difficult to find one that didn’t make him angry.

  His daughter, Becca, had been used as a lab rat and had been injected with the virus by Ohtanda. It had been a trial to test her new serum, with no guarantees of success, but so far, she’d been unaffected. She could have died. The thought stuck in his throat. It took a moment to swallow the lump. He glanced impatiently at the coffee pot.

  Mark turned his head searching for something more positive to focus on, landing on the new brick constructions at the end of the long row of picnic tables. Caleb, Lynn’s creative and hard-working son, had come up with the idea of building brick ovens for baking. He had two of them built, each with two levels inside, allowing a lot of bread baked at once. He’d been gone so long it looked like both were now completed.

  So far, they’d been lucky finding food items in houses and stores that hadn’t been scooped up by other survivors or had gone bad. Those times were fading fast, and plans had to be made to continue feeding the ever-growing population. Their stores were dwindling more quickly than they were being replenished.

  Elijah’s group had built three greenhouses and planted a variety of vegetables and herbs, but most wouldn’t be ready for months if they grew at all. It was mid-October now, and the air was beginning to chill. Mark had to make sure each of the buildings could be heated in some way or they’d freeze to death.

  That thought increased the stress he already felt. His brain needed a break. He leaned forward to grab the coffee pot, stopping inches from contact. He had nothing to hold the hot pot handle with. Annoyed at his lack of foresight, he rose and crept back into the house, returning with a potholder. He snatched up the pot and set it on the table. The heat was already bleeding through the thin material. He placed coffee into a filter, held it over the cup, and dribbled steaming water over the top. Not the most efficient way of making coffee, but he hadn’t been sure how much he would drink.

  He set the sodden filter down and embraced the mug. The heat absorbed into his hands and made him more aware of the chill in the air. A quick shiver passed through him as he sat back and blew across the rim.

  Another new addition
was the massive structure Elijah’s people were erecting on the corner lot across the street. It was a large open floor plan with a surrounding upper balcony that could sleep at least forty people. When Mark left to find help for Becca, the building was in the final planning stage. Since then, a foundation had been poured, and the four framed walls had been lifted. They were moving fast, but with the threat of winter on the horizon, they had the incentive to get it done.

  They were fortunate to have a member of the community who had experience mixing and pouring cement. They were lucky to be able to draw on the knowledge of so many different professionals. That was one of the great things about this community: everyone was willing to help. When you had all day and so many helping hands, a lot could get accomplished. He’d have to step in and help today. It would feel good to do something less aggressive for a change.

  He stared off into the darkness. He was startled awake.

  “Have you been out here all night?”

  The sun was on the horizon. The coffee was cold, but at least it hadn’t spilled. He looked around, still in sleep-induced confusion. Caryn set an armful of cooking utensils on the table. The tall, attractive woman had taken on the duties of head cook and did a marvelous job keeping everyone fed and using every scrap of food.

  “Oh, uh, hi,” he said. “Guess I have been.”

  “Weren’t you cold?”

  “If I was, it didn’t prevent me from falling asleep.”

  She went about getting her cooking stations prepared. “You all right?”

  “Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine. Just had trouble sleeping. Guess I needed to be in the fresh air. Last thing I remember, I was sipping a hot mug of coffee. Then,” he shrugged.

  “Sorry I woke you. I’m just not used to anyone beating me out here in the morning.”

  “No problem. It’ll take me a day or two to get back in a routine.” He stood and stretched. “What can I do to help?”

  Caryn said, “Can you start a fire in the two brick ovens?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks.”

  He gathered wood from the pile and placed them inside the firebox. Doors opened behind him and two teenage girls, Rachel and Alyssa, came out carrying various food items. Right behind them was Lynn. She didn’t notice him at first, giving him the chance to absorb her presence and warm his heart.