It has been a month since Fish dropped me off in the dead of night near an abandoned house along a stretch of seldom-used dirt road. I spent the next hour or two riding home, towing a cart nearly as heavy as the emotional baggage I carried. A cold front moved through bringing with it a noticeable drop in temperature and a constant drizzle that soaked me to the bone. By the time I arrived within sight of our austere perimeter fortifications I was shivering uncontrollably.

The first patrol I ran into was Sung-Mi and Danny. Danny being a recent addition to the neighbourhood. Turns out Danny wanted to remove himself from some bad influences in the Towers in an attempt to keep the monkey off his back. Sung-Mi threw her arms around me and I hugged her back with what little strength I had left. She helped me back to the house and out of my soaking clothes. I collapsed on the couch and was lights out in under a minute.

I awake some hours later to Merida licking my fingers and the distinctive sound of a page being turned coming from the other room. Rising from the couch I find someone has left a glass of water on the side table and I gulp it down. Everything aches and I let out an involuntary groan.

"You okay?" I hear Sung-Mi call from the other room. I force myself to my feet and pad across the floor in the direction of her voice.

"Yeah." I respond, but the weakness in my voice and lack of conviction say otherwise.

She meets me halfway, she's carries my copy of Two Solitudes in one hand and places it on the dining room table. "I've never read that before," she confides. "It's kind of interesting."

"How long have you been here?" I ask.

"Oh, not that long," she replies. "We've taken turns. Heath and Danny were here for a while, and Ari, then Peter and now me. You snore."

"Huh," is all I can muster in reply.

"Miriam put together some food for you-- you should eat. How's your arm?"

"If I'm being honest, it hurts like a son-of-a-bitch, but so does pretty much everything else," I answer as I move toward the kitchen. Sure enough, Miriam has provided a charcuterie of smoked meat and fish, cheese, grapes, pickles and crackers. I offer Sung-Mi first crack at it and she declines.

"Watching my figure," she declares in jest.

I open a cupboard and retrieve a bottle of red wine. "Join me for a drink?"

"Sure," she says taking a seat across the table.

In the end, she relents and shares both the food and wine with me. We catch up over glasses of Bordeaux and what seems to me to be the best food I've had in weeks. At length I disclose my gruesome discovery at the farm and the subsequent firefight, the long trek to Fish's hideout and the revelation about the border fence to the east. She takes it all in to the point where she even produces a small notebook and jots down a couple key points.

"I'm very sorry about your in-laws," she says when I finally pause my exposition. "Do you think Pelex is involved?"

"Not directly," I admit. "I really don't know what to think at this point, but I don't think it was incidental and by that I mean just some kind of robbery or random attack. I'm fairly certain that they were targeted because of me." And then it dawns on me, "does Heath know?"

"No, we figured you'd want to be the one to tell him."

My mouth goes instantly dry and I knock back the entire glass of wine in a single gulp nearly choking in the process. "Fuck me."

"It's okay Connor."

"You don't get it, all I ever do is give him bad news and it's all due to me. I just bring him pain and misery time after time. It's not fair to him, I should be doing a better job, but everything I do just gets fucked up and it keeps coming back on him."

"I don't think that's true Connor, I don't think Heath resents you for any of this, and none of this is your fault."

"Doesn't feel that way."

"Well, give it time then. We all see what you've done and what you've sacrificed, we see what the cost of your leadership has been and we are all thankful. It's not fair, to you, to Heath, to all of us, what's been happening."

She checks her watch, "I'd better get going, are you up for a meeting tonight? Everyone is pretty anxious to hear about what you know."

"Yeah, we can do that."

"Okay, I'll let them know. We planned on meeting at Frank's, is that okay?"

"Yeah, I'm sure I can still walk that far."

"I'll come get you, if you don't mind."

"That'll be fine, I might fall asleep again."

"You want me to send Heath over?"

"Where is he?"

"At Peter's. I'm sure it would be no problem for him to spend the night."

"No. I mean, I'll stop by and spend some time with him at Peter's before heading to Frank's. Gives me a chance to talk to him, maybe read him a story and tuck him in at least."

"Okay," she says as she puts her boots on at the door.

"You're forgetting your book," I say, handing her the novel she had been reading.

"I can't take your book."

"It's your book now. I've read it and all it does is gather dust on a shelf."

"Okay, thanks. I'll bring it back when I'm done."

"Do you not know how gifts work?" I ask.

"Fine," she says finally, taking the well-worn paperback from my hand. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, and see you later."

She steps out the door, the Sun is already setting as she treads down the steps and along the sidewalk. She looks back and gives a little wave with the book.

She's not the only one watching her figure, I think to myself.

-----

The fire pops and crackles as Hart adds another log. Yellow-orange flames lick up around it engulfing it in a combustive embrace. It's a calm, moonless night with only the slightest of breezes as signified by the gentle lapping of tiny wavelets upon the breakwall. What little smoke there is from the well-seasoned hardwood, swirls mostly upwards and dissipates. Seventy-five meters west-southwest of the fire pit Jake is standing atop one of the large armour stones hauling in a length of yellow propylene cord. He returns to the fire with another growler of lake-bottom-chilled ale.

"Say what you want about those Harkstead guys, their beer fucking rocks!" Jake says, unscrewing the cap and topping off my mug.

It's been a long night of conversation, up to this point I've covered my visit to the peaceful farmers near the old co-operative (consensus is not a rosy outlook for them), and the incident involving my in-laws-- the desire for retribution is muted by our complete lack of intelligence on who to attribute this to. We talk about my impromptu meeting with Fish-- which got Jake's hackles up-- the firefight, my injury, cross-country flight and time at Fish's sequestered camp. The fact that we are somewhat now penned in by the perimeter fence to the east raised some eyebrows and prompted a flurry of bad ideas culminating in a grandiose plan that involved running the TAPV through the fence in a full-on frontal assault. Ari was quick to nix that.

By the time I was done I was tired of talking and wanted badly for a change of topics. Ari seemed to sense this and proposed a toast to my safe return. He then informed me that in my absence Freya had scored a 15KW solar array that took the better part of a day to haul back here in pieces, but they expect to have it online in a week at the latest. They also managed to raid a golf course for a score of 6-volt batteries that can be used to store all that solar power for use any time day-or-night. There still remains certain provisional guidelines for power consumption to make sure we always have power for the most critical things.

"Looks like we'll be able to save almost all the basements," Hart adds, referring to our need to run sump pumps to keep the basements dry. Some residents have had to abandon the lower levels of their domiciles due to water. "We're also going to run three chest freezers on site as a central store for meat and such. Makes sense to keep them as close to the array and batteries as possible."

"Makes sense," I agree.

"We have quite a few mismatched panels we've collected," Freya says. "These we can dole out to people to use for extra power, to charge small batteries or whatever. The electrician guy says it makes no sense to try to tie them in with the array. Would probably do more harm than good."

"Okay, if there are any left over when you're done handing them out, I'll take one. But make sure everyone else gets a crack at it first, I already have a panel that suits my needs."

Heather shows up carrying a small bundle wrapped in butcher's paper, she takes a seat on Jake's lap and carefully unwraps the package and begins to hand out shriveled sticks of smoke meat.

"I was saving those," Jake protests.

"To share with your friends," Heather corrects him with a little jab of her elbow to his sternum. "These are Jake's pet project, consume at your own risk."

"So which animal isn't in here?" I ask taking one of the familiar links from Heather.

Jake just gives me a sly nod touching his finger to his nose. I nod back knowingly, it's likely a mix of everything from muskrat to goose.

Moments later Hart is coughing and swearing and sputtering and guzzling his beer.

"What--,' he gasps, still choking. "What is in these?"

"Meat, spices, ummm, and smoke," Jake informs him. "Don't be a pussy."

"Spices my ass," Hart says knocking over his chair. "Got any water Frank?"

"Sure," Frank replies. "In the house. But you might want to try something with fat in it, like milk."

"You got any milk?" Hart asks half-walking-half-jogging toward the house.

"Nope," Frank replies with a snicker.

My nose starts to run as I chew and swallow another piece. It's delicious, but Jake has really turned up the heat with this batch. My eyes start to water and I'm careful not to rub them lest I pretty much pepper spray myself.

"Good crop of habaneros this year Jake?" I ask.

Jake just nods.

-----

Hart recovers after a while, the fire burns down to red hot coals that shimmer and crackle and draws the gaze of everyone who hasn't fallen asleep in their chair. We talk in low voices and slowly sip 25 year old scotch from crystal tumblers courtesy of Frank. Frank reminisces about his departed wife, the life they shared, the hope they had for the future they had planned to spend together.

It never happened.

"This world would have broken her heart, I think it's better that she didn't live to see it," he says.

One by one, we all share a little bit about who we are by way of what life we had before everything went to shit. That is, all of us, except for Jake, his contribution was the smoked meat and an off-colour joke that made all of us cringe. Ever I manage to open up a little.

I talk about my Dad, how he missed out on having a grandson. From the perspective I have now, I can see he would have been a wonderful grandfather and role model for Heath. It makes me miss him all the more. I just about start to talk about Kate and realize Sung-Mi is asleep in the chair next to mine and abruptly stop, leaving an awkward silence in the space where conversation should be.

In that silent space there is a sound, a sound that shouldn't be there. It's not the wind in the trees, or the water on the rocks or the crackle of embers growing colder. It's a sound both foreign and familiar. Familiar in that is it the sound we all know, have all have heard many times and can all identity, but foreign in that we don't hear it anymore. Not these days.

"Is that a plane?" Hart asks.

I cock my head and listen, "Yeah, that's definitely a plane." I reply, moving my head around trying to get a fix on the location of the sound. "I think it's over the lake."

"I don't like plane at night," Ari says immediately. "Not many good reason to fly plane in the dark."

"Yeah, I don't like it either," Jake agrees.

"Sounds like a single engine," Hart adds. "Out over the lake to the southwest, I'd say."

My radio crackles to life, "Connor, you still up?" Raven's voice asks over the airwaves. He's out with Danny on patrol tonight.

"Yeah, we're at Frank's."

"Do you hear that noise?"

"Yeah, we're all listening to it. We think it's a plane."

"That's what Danny said too."

We all listen, peering out into the darkness over the lake, panning our heads as the sound moves inexorably west to east, a midnight flier, lights off, cloaked by the moonless night's veil, executing their unknown mission. I key the mic on my radio.

"Tower three, what do you got for me?" I query the occupants of our most south-eastern watchtower.

"We hear it, we just can't see it," the unfamiliar female voice answers back. "Seems to be over land now though, I think they've turned inland, sort of northbound, but east of us. It sounds like it's getting farther away."

"Okay, let us know if it sounds like it's coming back."

"Copy that, tower three out."

In time the sound fades away altogether and we return to the smouldering remains of the fire to collect our chairs and our thoughts and our conspiracy theories.

"Well, that was interesting," Jake says, dragging a plastic lawn chair back toward Frank's backyard patio.

"Pretty ballsy, flying in pitch dark," Hart adds.

"Good chance that means they're instrument rated and not just some lowly weekend flyboy," I reply. "Takes some skill to keep it straight and level without a horizon or other reference, let alone, take-off, land or navigate."

"No guarantee he won't crash at some point," Jake says.

"I wouldn't count on that, seemed to know what they were doing, I mean seems they purposely went around us," I say. "But, that's enough excitement for one night, I'm going to bed. The night watch can deal with the UFOs."

"I'll walk you home," Sung-Mi says.

"Yeah, me too," Freya quickly pipes in, "Since we're all going that way."

Freya and Sung-Mi exchange looks and there is a moment of tension. Freya has been fairly vocal about her disapproval of Sung-Mi and I having any sort of friendly interactions. In the end she is just giving voice to my guilty conscience and in a partially resentful way I appreciate it. Clearly, Sung-Mi does not.

Heather breaks the tension by looping her arm through mine, "help an old, pregnant lady across the street?" she says. "Jake's got his hands full and you're more of a gentleman anyway."

I'm grateful for the rescue, not wanting to get in the middle of a Freya-Sung-Mi spat. "Sure thing," I reply. "Just go easy on my bad arm."

"I go check my radios, in case pilot talk to someone on the ground," Ari states what is really the best idea anybody has had all night. "Will talk tomorrow."

My escorts ensure my safe arrival home and I bid them goodnight, they leave in different directions and disappear into the night. I enter the front door, cross the length of the house and exit the back onto the deck and lay myself down on a dew-moistened chaise because the house is empty, but my mind is full. I watch for shooting stars, but end up curiously scrutinizing passing satellites. I expect they are still busy doing whatever task they do, but it's of little consequence for us down here. Space-born detritus on a constant journey to nowhere.

-----

The next couple weeks are quiet, our nocturnal aviator doesn't return and I spend my days resting, tending the garden and spending time with Heath. Every few days I scam Heath and a handful of the kids that remain in the neighbourhood into hoeing and watering and cleaning out the chicken coop. Merida is in her glory on those days, getting mauled by all the kids, playing chase and basking in the Sun. Freddie will endure a few minutes of attention but quickly makes himself scarce once he gets annoyed with the kids. Or he'll get atop the fence and watch the kids with those predatory eyes-- watch and wait and plot his revenge, or at least that's my assumption, what the hell do I really know about the inner workings of the feline mind?

I thoroughly enjoy the distraction and the relative normalcy of the chaotic antics of children. The chores get accomplished in a haphazard way and the kids get to be kids. I take the time to try to exercise my arm to the extent that I can, to keep it from becoming useless. When I'm not doing that I work on dehydrating, pickling, jarring and otherwise converting the bounty of the garden into something that will store well and help get us through the winter. For a couple days I even try my hand at pemmican with acceptable, but not exceptional, results.

Today as I pluck large, juicy blueberries from a bush I get a curt message on the radio from the team minding our recently implemented front gate, "visitor from Pelex for you Connor."

"Let them in," I answer back with a bit of a sigh, I'm really not interested in having a chat with Frost today.

Heath runs by with a stick in his hand, Merida hot on his heels. "Daddy has a visitor, keep an eye on Merida okay?" I ask.

"Okay," Heath calls back as Merida catches him and knocks him to the ground, steals the stick and takes off in the wake of shrieks and giggles.

The large, black SUV is already pulling up to the driveway when I get to the front of the house. I don't see Mr. Beck behind the wheel which is odd. Odder yet, when it comes to a stop and the rear passenger door swings open, Denton Frost does not step out, but rather Dana. She's in strappy gladiator heels, her shapely tanned legs bare below the hem of the skin tight gray pencil skirt complimented by a sleeveless polo shirt that shows off her toned arms.

"Hi Connor," she says with an air of nonchalance, adjusting her expensive sunglasses. "Sorry to arrive unannounced."

This is when I realize I've been wearing the same shorts for five days and my shirt is crumpled up in a ball on the lawn in the back yard.

"Uhhh, I, uhhh," I stammer. "Wasn't expecting you, let me grab my shirt."

"Don't bother, how many years were we on the swim team together? Six maybe? Shirtless is how I know you best," she says. "Anyway, I've brought someone to see you."

On cue, the other door opens and Kate steps out. She looks good, but somehow different, "Hi Connor," she says, her voice seeming to lack the usual inflection, or even a hint of familiarity for that matter.

"Oh my god," I exclaim, shocked. "You're home!" I quickly move around the SUV and step toward her arms out, but she steps back abruptly, away from my embrace and I freeze, confused.

"Mommy!" Heath comes barrelling around the other side of the house and before she can react he wraps his arms around her mid-section. She give him a little pat on the head and a awkward half-hug and looks up at me expectantly.

"Uh, Heath, ummm, Mommy is tired and you're gonna get her nice clothes all dirty, go get cleaned up and changed please, then you can talk to Mommy. Okay?"

"Okay Daddy!" Heath says as he runs to the house.

A third person steps from the SUV at this time.

"You remember Dr. Hu?" Dana asks.

"Sure," I reply and shake his hand.

"Perhaps we can sit down and talk?" Dr. Hu says politely.