Muster

by Christoff Orr

  The door to his study, being slowly swung open, broke the rhythmic symphony of sounds, that had been swimming freely about the room. Edwin turned slightly towards the door but didn’t bother to fully turn his attention. “What time is it?” He questioned, the words laced with exhaustion.

  “Twelve thirty in the afternoon sir,” One of the young female nurses answered.

  He turned back towards the fire, letting the comfort of the warm flames embrace him. He knew that he should arise and get things going, that he had a nation to overthrow after all and past to eradicate. But at that moment, he just wanted to sit there. Much like when he was in his youth, when the sky would be covered in thick gray clouds, and the ground would be layered in inviting and soft snow. He would do everything he could think of to persuade his mother to let him stay home, and play or at least lounge around the house and enjoy a day of mental melancholy meandering. It was then that she would quickly remind him that, he was not put on this earth to “sit around” but to work and make something of himself. It would be a lesson that his mother and father would teach him over and over again. Till finally, it became his daily mantra, his creed, his whole reason for existing. Till he truly believed that he was put here on this earth for something very important, that he was put here to make a difference. He would make a difference, not only to his life, to the lives of millions.

  “Nurse, I want to get dressed and I want to go to my office,” Edwin called out, back over his shoulder, his eyes still fixed on the flames.

  “Sir are you sure that is wise,” The young nurse questioned as she took a few steps towards Edwin in his chair.

  “I’m not asking for permission, I am telling you, I am going to my office. Now go tell the doctor that he is to join me, and tell my driver that I will be down in there in an hour.” Edwin quickly barked back as he tried to stand up.

  “Yes sir,” The nurse answered back without any more protests. She speedily turned and made her way out of the study, only her squeaking shoes could be heard as she walked away, shutting the door as she left.

  Edwin had tossed off the blanket which had been residing up on his lap, letting it fall freely to the ground. Filling full of vigor he stood erect and attempted to take a step for the door. He got a full step in before he remembered that he was still wired up to the plethora of medical devices that littered his once pristine study. There was the oxygen tube that was looped around his ears, the heart monitor, and its array of wired tentacles which stretched out and attached at various points on his chest. The wireless oxygen gauge/heart rate monitor on his finger and finally the wireless blood pressure cuff around his left arm. He began to grow a bit frustrated as he proceeded to unplug himself from all the machines and devises. “I’m turning into a damn cyborg,” He said aloud, only to himself.

  Once everything was removed, he only got two more steppes before all the sentinels of medical machinery began to chirp and beep, as various alarms began to sound. The army of bells and whistles were not only annoying but loud too, as they shattered the peacefulness that had so recently resided in the room. The sounds bounced around the room, like a hundred ping-pong balls with endless energy. Now fully engulfed in rage and frustration, Edwin spun to face the screeching devices, ready to give each of them a talking to, not realizing that this would do little to shut them up. Unlike the millions of those who are employed by Edwin, these drones didn’t fear his words. They would do their job whether he liked it or not.

  As he spun around, the darkened room seemed to spin in the opposite direction. A bright light emerged from where the fire still raged in the fireplace. It wasn’t as if the fire had escaped its hold and was now running loose amongst the floor, yet the light looked as if a bright star had just emerged from the embers. It was a shockingly bright light, which only existed in Edwin's sight for a split second, a momentary burst of energy, and then it just as quickly evaporated from his view. Then, that was it.

  As he fell he heard himself yell out, “No,” as loud as he could. It seemed odd to him though, because the voice he heard didn’t seem like his own. It was not the voice of power, the voice of command. It wasn’t the tone that he had spent a lifetime and a career perfecting, to ensure subjugation from those whom he had employed. It sounded foreign, but more importantly, it sounded weak. Was there someone else in the room with him? Did someone hide in the darkened shadows of the corners? What have they done to him? More importantly, what will they do to him? What was that light?

  The floor rushed up rapidly to grasp him. Edwin's body slammed against the wooden flooring, only a thin rug provided any form of comfort to, help reduce the impact. As he fell his left arm was caught between his body and the floor, and though he couldn’t tell for sure as he laid there, he was almost certain that something had snapped, either his wrist or his arm. At the moment there was no pain, but he knew that wouldn’t last long, soon enough he would be feeling the pain, and his arm wouldn’t be the only point of origin for the uncomfortable torment.

  When he fell, his head slammed up against the edge of one of the side tables which rested near his chair. There was a silver plater which held his teacup and a teapot of his much needed Earl Gray. As his head hit the side table, it had also tipped the plater over, sending the occupants out upon the floor next to Edwin as well as upon Edwin himself. He assumed it was the teapot which had fallen near him, and shattered upon contact with the floor. Thus it was the teacup, still full of his tea, which fell upon his lower back. He didn’t feel the impact of such a small item, but he felt the warm liquid of its contents seep between his legs and onto the floor where he laid there. He couldn’t help but wonder how much tea was in that cup, for he now felt the warm liquid seep upwards as far as he belly, as well as down by his knees. However, a tea-stained carpet and pajamas where the least of his worries at this moment.

  His head was pounding, his arm was starting to ache and he still felt like his mind was swimming in a tar pit. The more he struggled to reach consciousness, the further from it he seemed to sink. Think Eddy, he told himself, focuses, start small, he told himself. I’m in my study, there was a bright light, the machines were going off, and then I tripped or something. Did something hit me? Did someone hit me? That is when the real fear started to creep upon his mind, as it crawled upon the floor, and squeezed its way into his mind. There it rested and asked the question, did someone shoot me? Have I been shot? Am I dead or dying?

  He took a moment to breathe, to try to quail his fears and keep a rational mind about himself. Again he tried to keep things simple, he started with the sounds. He could still hear the machines chirping away, so he wasn’t dead, or if he was, he was in some sort of medical Hell, where the endless torment of such monitors never ceased. The sounds of the beeping along with the sensation of the warm tea, convinced him that he was alive. The fact that he could feel the pain in his left arm as well as his head, but felt no significant pain anywhere else, helped convince him that he hadn’t been shot. Though these revelations did little to help him feel better because during his self-analysis he realized two crucial facts, one, it was difficult for him to see anything and two, the whole left side of his body felt, off, like something wasn’t wired correctly.

  To make matters worse, as Edwin laid there, the once warm tea had now gotten cold, causing his body to get cold as well. The fire had died down to two glowing logs, both of which were half devoured by the flames, leaving only charred husks of themselves. The curtains were still drawn shut, making it difficult for any external light to help with his attempt at seeing around the room. Even with the lack of light, he could tell that his vision had been impaired of sorts. He wasn’t sure if it was just the results of the hard hit to his head or if there was something more critical causing his lack of sight. He lifted his head, but it barely got an inch off of the ground before he had to put it back down. This only complicated things more. With his broken arm, or at least severely damaged arm, he couldn’t push himself up from off the floor. It was then that he r
ealized that he need help.

  This fact stung Edwin more than the pain from the fall ever could. Even in his late years, his ability to be self-sufficient was something that he had always prided himself upon. Now he couldn’t even remove himself from the grasps of his studies floor. Not to mention that he was wet from his own tea. If his mother could see him now, she would be so disappointed. He attempted once again to get upright, this time, he tried to pull his legs up, to help prop himself up. As he tried, he noticed that his right leg moved moderately, but his left seemed to flounder helplessly. Then once again, he fell back to the floor.

  The pain in his head was growing into a frighting storm of anguish and suffering. His arm no longer was hurting, though now it didn’t feel anything, as if it had gone dead, from laying on it too long or something. With his vision still blurred and darkened, he felt himself starting to drift off. Though he couldn’t move his head much, internally he tried to shake himself awake, to stay alert. He still worried that someone had done this to him. Was his tea poisoned, he wondered? Then quickly concluded it wasn’t because of the amount of tea which poured upon him, he couldn’t have drunk enough to cause such a reaction, even if it was poisoned. Then there was the bright light, what was that about?

  I have to get up, Edwin thought to himself. He continued to lay there, for how long he wasn’t sure. He knew that he had drifted off for a moment, but wasn’t sure how long that was. When he sent his nurse away, he told her to have the car ready within an hour. He would assume after he didn’t show up that they would come looking for him, right? But how long after that hour had expired, would they wait till they came searching? Would they come right away or would they wait for some?

  He had worked for years to drive home the fact that he was his own man, that he did what he wanted when he wanted. That everyone who worked for him was there to serve him and provide means that he may accomplish his goals. There would be times that he would make his staff wait hours on him, till he was ready to go in his own time. Would they do the same now? Would they wait for hours downstairs, wait for him to come down, knowing it could be at any second? Has his own personal drive to be his own man, proven to be his very downfall? Again as these thoughts swam around his murky mind, he felt himself drift off again. It was within the last seconds of consciousness that he heard him, he heard his name. But it was too late then, he had already slipped off into the vast nothingness of his mind.

  6 Bird in a Cage

  The Hive

  Lance sat upon an old plastic lawn chair, in what was affectionally referred to as the Hall. It was the largest of all the rooms within the mountain and was the main gathering place within the inner workings of the Hive. It was here that all meals were served, that community meetings were held and even at times parties of different sorts resided within this cavern. Right now though, as Lance sat there, it was just another morning breakfast, made up of some fresh biscuits, some raw honey, and white gravy. The cooks were so good, that if you didn’t know better, it was easy to forget that just outside the protective layer of rock and sediment, laid a vast array of death and destruction. It was into that very destruction that Lance and his team would be heading back out into, once breakfast was completed. After talking it over with Brother Ben and continued communications with Butch and the fellow survivors of Camp Zion, it was decided that a detachment from the Hive would make their way towards the survivor and help out where they could.

  Those going would be Lance, and four of the five team members who had come with him to the Hive. The sixth member, his nephew Brendon, would be staying on at the Hive, at least until Lance and the rest pass back by. They knew that the situation was dire for the survivors and that they would need to move quickly and deadly. Having such a young recruit tag along was not only reckless and but posed a very real threat to not only the recruit but to the team as well. Every member of the team had to be a killing machine, and a savior at the same time. This mission was not the time to teach a greenhorn the ropes.

  “Looks like you’re making yourself at home,” Zeke said with a smile as he approached Lance, a plate of biscuits and gravy in his hand.

  Lance looked up from his plate, to see Zeke standing there, and let out a chuckle. “Trust me, with food like this, I might be staying for a bit too. You mountain men sure know how to live it up.”

  “What you birds along the Lake don’t eat well? Because I know for a fact, that you got yourself a very good cook out there.” Zeke shot back, as he pulled up a chair and sat down at the table along with Lance.

  With a fresh bite of biscuit and gravy in his mouth, Lance just nodded in agreement. Finally, with the food diminished, he spoke up, “That is true. I’m just never home long enough to enjoy it. Always seem to be running around, from one outpost to another or some sort.”

  Zeke nodded in an agreement, then spoke up, “I hear that Brother Ben has you running again. Out to pull in those Zion survivors?”

  “Yeah, we head out after breakfast. I want to cover as much ground as we can with the little daylight we have.” Lance answered back. He then looked down at his plate, dipped the last bite of his biscuit into some of the honey that had been drizzled onto his plate, then shoved the sweetened food into his mouth.

  For the next little bit, the two men just sat there. The lighting within the hall created abstract shadows as the lights refracted and hid behind the numerous stalagmite and stalactite that were scattered about. Some had to be removed to make room for accommodations, but that was done only after thorough inspection. The crew that created the Hive, wanted to ensure the stability of the internal structure and felt any unnecessary removal of the natural foundations could prove to be problematic to sustained security with the mountains caves. They all hopped and prayed that their time spent with the protective belly of Mt. Timpanogos would be a brief time, but they had to prepare for something much longer. Because of this, they had stockpiled food, water, fuel, and supplies to last not only their lives but that of their children as well.

  “You don’t have to go, you know? I can talk to Brother Ben and have another team head out there. You and yours could head back, maybe even see that wife of yours.” Zeke said as he finished up his meal.

  Lance nodded in agreement at first, then spoke up, “No, I need to. I don’t like just sitting around, I have to be on the move. The wife knows that, she knows why I do it. I know it’s not easy for her, but she accepts me being gone so much.”

  “Most probably would tire of seeing your ugly mug every day anyway.” Zeke quickly said with a smile. “Why don’t I come with you? I know your nephew will be staying here, rightly so, you could use an extra shooter.”

  “You sure, it’s been some time since you’ve been out there. We don’t have biscuits and gravy out there, typically don’t have anything really. Plus, well you know.” Lance said with a bit of concern.

  Zeke thought for a moment, then looked at Lance, “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m good, I’m ready. I’ve been cooped up long enough, I’m ready to get back out there, get in the mix again.” Zeke said with a big grin, though a hint of uncertainty lingered around the edges of his words.

  “Well I’m not going to say no, but, it’s not up to me. If Brother Ben says he can afford to let you go, you know you’re always welcome to join my brother!” Lance said as he grabbed his plate and stood up.

  The two men took their now empty plates back over to the makeshift kitchen area and dropped their plates and utensils off in the designated locations. They paused momentarily to say hi to those pulling KP duty that morning and give their compliments to the morning chefs. The Hive survived because everyone did their share, everyone pulled their weight as they say. Just as in a beehive, there were jobs for everyone and everyone did a job. It didn’t matter how small or seemingly insignificant that job was, it was always done to the best ability of those accomplishing the task. If just one section of this Hive broke down, all of it would come crashing down in a matter of weeks. Manpower was the biggest and mo
st important supply that they had, and it was one in constant flux. Someone was always working, day or night, sunshine or snow, there was always a need.

  The two men snaked their way along the paths within the mountain, making conversation as the moved along. At some parts, the path was wide enough for two or three grown men to stand shoulder to shoulder, and you could look upward hundreds of feet up. At other parts, especially getting back into the operations room, where Brother Ben would be, one was often required to duck down, and squeeze through some of the tightest of hallways within the caves. It was also along here, that the light provided by the generators faded, and handheld lanterns were needed to light the way. Because of all the creature comforts added throughout that cave, it was easy to forget that they were within the belly of a massive mountain. All of that quickly faded though, once you headed into the operation side of things. Here, the damp and dark facts because very present.

  Once Lance and Zeke made it through the final passage, they were greeted with the vast open room of the operational headquarters. Because of the nearby watering hole and the fact that they were so deep within the mountain, the air in this room always remained colder than the rest of the mountain. This was one of the prime reasons Brother Ben had chosen this room to be the operational headquarters. They had nearly two dozen computers, along with external drives, and servers housed with this section. The natural ability to keep the air cool, helped keep all the equipment at operational temperatures. It was a trade-off though because damp environments and electronics don’t always play nice together. They had two dozen dehumidifiers working non stop, as the attempted to pull out as much moisture out of the air as possible. Overall though, they made it work and all the hard work put into organizing this had paid off a hundredfold.