"I'll get most of it - " he began, but she raised her hand to stop him.
"I didn't say do it, I said show us how to do it. If you don't, we'll be pretty useless without you. We have to be able to hold down the fort."
"I have a lot of extra blankets and pillows," Cate said. "Food, too. And a bunch of mattresses that could be used for protection, if those are any good. If not, then drag them down and sleep on them."
"Mattresses are a good idea," Cal said, "for sleeping. Don't sleep in a bed. Drag the mattresses down on the floor."
"What else can we use to barricade the walls?" asked Milly.
"Things like boxes of old magazines, if you keep things like that. Books, packed tight in a box. Cushions aren't any good; they aren't dense enough. Furniture's no good. Think of things like rolling up your rugs as tight as you can, tying them so they'll stay rolled, and standing them at an angle against the vulnerable wall."
"Does anyone have a pool table with a slate bed?" asked Creed
"I do," someone said, and Cate looked around to see Roland Gettys raise his hand a little. He seldom said much, usually just listened to conversations with a slight smile on his face, unless someone asked him a direct question.
"A slate pool table is an excellent shield, if you can get it turned on its side."
"Weighs a ton," said Roland, nodding his head.
Creed looked at Cal. "I'll take care of getting this organized. You and Cate go get what you'll need." He looked down at his notepad. "I've written down exactly nothing. Do you need to make a list?"
"I don't think so, not for the climbing gear," Cate said. "1 could pack that with my eyes closed." She also needed something to wear besides pajamas, but she wasn't likely to forget clothes.
"That's it, then," said Cal, holding out his hand to her. "You handle the climbing gear and I'll handle everything else. Let's get moving."
Getting back to her house seemed easier, in one way, than her desperate flight the night before - she didn't have to run. Flimsy bedroom slippers didn't provide much protection for her feet, so she was glad to take more care as she and Cal slipped from cover to cover. Taking more care, however, meant taking more time, and the longer they were out there the more exposed she felt. It was incredibly creepy, knowing someone sitting on the side of a mountain over half a mile away could be watching her through a scope, tracking her even move, easing his finger to the trigger -
At that thought, she stopped where she was, shuddering. As if he were aware of her slightest movement, her position, at all times, Cal stopped and looked back at her. "What's wrong?"
Cate looked around. They were, for the moment, completely protected. Cal used every bit of possible cover, from rocks and trees and buildings to low places in the ground. Right now they were behind some waist-high rocks. This wasn't the same as the night before, when she and Maureen had been on the first floor of the house, with only wooden walls between them and a bullet. "I just felt as if someone was watching, as if the shooters could see us."
"They can't. Not right now."
"I know. But last night - when Maureen and I were upstairs - I felt the bullet coming, and I panicked and tackled her. It was so eerie. I could actually feel it, like something tickling between my shoulder blades. The window blew in, and after that we heard the shot. I just now had sort of the same feeling, but there's no way a bullet can go through these rocks, is there?''
"No, we're safe here." He worked his way back to her and crouched there, looking around, an intent expression in his eyes. "But don't discount that feeling, especially in a combat situation. I get 'em on the back of my neck. I always listen. So we're going to change course a little. It's longer this way, but if you've got the willies, we aren't taking any chances."
She nodded, absurdly pleased that he knew what she was talking about. He studied the ground for a moment, then got on his belly and began slithering away from the rocks at a ninety-degree angle, following a slight indentation that she hadn't noticed. Her pajamas would be beyond saving, she thought, and went down on her belly, too, to follow him.
Billy Copeland carefully scanned with his scope, back and forth. He thought he'd seen a flash of cloth around some rocks. The distance was at the far end of his skill, but a lucky shot was just as good as a skillful one, and in any case, as Teague had explained, they were now in the psychological phase of this operation: Work on their nerves, wear them down. He didn't have to actually hit his target to remind them that they could be touched from a frightening distance.
The decision he had to make was whether or not to fire without having a clear target. On the one hand, they had fired a helluva lot of rounds last night, and his instinct now told him to make every shot count. On the other hand, it would be fun to make someone piss their britches when they thought they were so well hidden.
His finger began tightening on the trigger, but then he eased the pressure. Not vet, not unless he knew for certain he'd seen something. No sense in wasting a round.
Her house was totally silent. Even at night when the boys were in bed asleep. Cate could hear the faint hum of appliances, feel a vague sense that the house was alive. Not now. It was empty and curiously dark and cold, despite the sunshine, because she'd pulled all the curtains against the night at sundown the day before. The curtains had not only kept the light at bay, they also had prevented the house from warming.
"Give me the key to the attic door," said Cal. "I'll bring down all the climbing gear while you're changing clothes."