The Lighthouse Brigade - Book One

Early Am. Of Thursday,  January 20th  Day 1

     Gun shots. The brisk night air vibrated with their thunderous sounds.  Every time they echoed through the small apartment they made her jump. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, her already frayed nerves recoiled at the shattering sound. Screaming blasted through the night. Barely heard over the horrific noises of devastation. Terror beyond the scope of nightmares filled the night with its hideous music. 

    Terrified, Thrisha adjusted the baby in her arms bouncing her to keep her from crying. Silently praying, she’d stay quiet a little longer. That, somehow by some great miracle, she could keep her still until daylight. That’s all she had to do. Keep the baby from crying until dawn. Then everything would be all right. At least that’s what Thrisha kept telling herself. She knew deep down that things would never be the same again. But it was all right to pray for miracles. To cling to those last remaining shreds of hope. To tell herself anything to get through the terror of the night.

    Pacing, Thrisha made another wide swoop around the living room. Stopping to pull a blanket up over the two children asleep on the couch bed. Smiling partially as she petted a soft sandy head affectionately. Nine-year-old Kirby could sleep through anything.  Well, at least those gory video games he was so fond of had proved useful for something finally. 12-year old Sammie was a different matter all together. Her little sister had never exactly been the shrinking violet type. That was for sure. No one had ever accused Sammie of being squeamish either. Exhaustion had finally become her master. Creating this fitful slumber the girl was entangled in now. After four days of little to no sleep, Thrisha certainly understood why Sammie had finally passed out. Felt a bit like she would herself, if she didn’t get some rest soon.  But she knew she’d have to hold out till daybreak. Just as the baby would. Poor little Marnie. She’d been a little trooper. Not fussing or crying over much in the last few days. Some how sensing, it seemed, the danger her siblings were in.

    Thrisha stepped back around the couch, picking up a blanket for Marnie as she went. Last week, the nights had been filled with the awful sounds of sirens and marching troops. At the time she’s cringed at their clatter. Praying they’d go away. Now she’d welcome those sounds with open arms. Gone with them was the security of the military law that had come to be enforced two weeks ago. Their noise had seemed so menacing in the darkness. So overpowering and imposing. The reality she knew now was they were actually nothing of the sort. They’d been there to protect. Now nothing was. Gone was their security. Replaced by the nightmare that engulfed them.

     Back at the window she peeked out of the small opening she’d managed to create in the wooden covering their father had nailed up before leaving them sixteen days ago. All of their windows had been boarded up. Plus their Father had piled furniture in front of the boarded up sliding glass doors, even though they were on the fourth floor. He’d insisted that everything be locked up tight before he left for duty. Duty. That’s what he’d called it. But Thrisha wasn’t any baby. She knew full well he’d only been trying not to scare the others. Their Mother had been taken off on a truck three days earlier. And it was on all the local news channels. About the total recall of all military-trained personnel. They were being pulled up into active duty. The military working with the police to keep the peace. Not that it had worked. That’s what they’d been called upon to do. And their Mother had been taken because she had a vast knowledge of medicinal herbs. She was a graduate with a full doctorate, but had never used it outside of their home. At least not until this ordeal had started.