by Ma West
“Colonel, I appreciate the welcome, but I fully intend to tell the mayor that I will not perform his requested actions. My duties are clear, to find and maintain my daughter, Sasha. She could very well be a key to human survival in this new, multi-being universe.” Captain Drexter stood as erect as possible, almost at attention. “I have no other responsibility, nor can I accept any. My plate is full.”
The colonel smiled. “Yeah, go ahead and tell him that and see how things go.”
The room was amazing, half sci-fi tech lab and half WWII bunker. Many of the consoles were blank, and only a simple screen display of statistics appeared on what the colonel referred to as RUDY. On it was a count of officers, with numbers displaying active, injured, on rest, and unaccounted for. At the moment, the last column had the largest number in it. Below was also a list for fire and medic staff along with transportation administration, customs and federal agents, reserves, and recruits. Below that was an inventory of goods.
The colonel gave a rundown of what the total capabilities of the room were, but at minimal power, it was about as good as an early 2000s cell phone. He then moved into the current communication system, as installed by the captain’s predecessor. Each building was to select three people to act as communication runners and another five to act as general labor, and they were to identify any special skills or equipment within their building.
“Currently we have the general-labor pool working with Commander Thomas over at a downed building. Damn tidal wave knocked the entire son of a bitch down. Don’t believe there was a single survivor from inside that place. God rest their souls. Today is a dark day, and my men need to be out there in the thick of it, and right now they’re out there doing without me. Now, my XO is a good man, but they need me, and you’re here to replace me.” The colonel pressed the keyboard below the screen and brought up a street map of the island.
Pointing to each location as he spoke, he moved fast, obviously ready to get to a new task. “Here is where your battle area was. Here is where your daughter’s battle area was. Here is where—”
The captain interrupted and touched the same locations on the map. “And where are we now?” The colonel pointed, but before he could speak, the captain again interrupted him and took over the conversation. “Now where is my daughter? Because you seem to be making many assumptions about what I am willing and able to do. My one priority is Sasha. After I know what state she is in, I can then contribute to solving your problems—depending, of course, on her status.”
The colonel took a big smell of the air and sized up the captain long and hard. “Your persistence will serve you well in this office. I think you will make a fine addition around here, and trust me, we are shorthanded.” The colonel spoke again, into his shoulder mic, and after a few exchanges, a nervous look crossed his face. “Well it, uh, seems that your daughter is quite a handful, and she is refusing to leave the hospital until she see her father, Captain Drexter.”
Captain Drexter couldn’t hold back the smile that now beamed across his face. He had never known a woman’s love, other than Sasha’s. He felt that a woman’s touch could be bought and paid for, but a woman’s love could only be earned. Sometimes he could sense it, feel it, from her—the baroness. She had a way a looking deep into his soul and fishing out the best of it. Never once did he ever mention Sasha, but she knew. Whether it was intuition, psychic powers, or something else, she knew how to make a heart feel cared for, if only briefly.
Drexter signaled for the walkie-talkie, and the colonel handed it over. “Sasha, Sasha, it’s me. Can you hear me, Sasha?”
There was a long pause before the radio returned with chatter. “Are you?”
The sound wasn’t enough to be convincing, but the captain pressed the button, waited a second, and then continued. “Sasha, IS THERE ANY FOG THERE?”
Again there was a long pause, but what came back was decidedly the sound of a teenage girl, as a hint of attitude was unmistakable. “I’m fine, Dad, thanks for asking. Now, where are you? And how does this man I’m with know who I am? How could you leave us alone with those rapist bastards?”
The attitude was reassuring, but the captain still felt his heart jump as she finished. He spoke in a heightened tone, even before firmly pressing the button. “What rapist? What man? Sasha, what MAN? What has he done to you?”
Again came the long pause. “It was the Synied security guards. They attacked me. I fought them off. There is a man here who keeps screaming out my name, some guy in the hospital room with me. Who is he? How does he know who I am?”
“Security? Where are you? Are you ok?”
There was another pause. “That was six questions. Six questions before you asked if I’m all right.”
The father in him couldn’t help but respond. “No, it was the sixth question, not six before.”
“You know what, I think I want to stay here some more. I’ve suddenly developed a headache.”
The captain’s frustration boiled over, and he shook the radio vehemently. Calmer now, he spoke in a softer and smoother tone. “Sasha, I’m very glad you’re ok. Now will you please join the policeman and come here? Later we can figure out what to do about security and who that hospital guy is.”
Again came the pause. “NO.”
He shook the radio again, almost slamming it down on the ground. Having been down this road in the past, he knew all too well that he had annoyed her and she was looking for a fight. It was time to change tactics, and he had a new strategy in mind. “Sasha, how is Emilia?”
The dramatic change in tone was unexpected and worrisome. With great emotion and sobs, the long silence was broken: “n’t know. I don’t knowwwww.”
The colonel, being a competent man, had already acquired another radio and was simultaneously hunting down Emilia. It wasn’t long before he had a room number of a likely candidate and relayed it to the captain.
Drexter spoke into his radio. “Sasha, calm down and take some deep breaths. Control the fog, first and foremost. I have good news for you, Sasha. Emilia is fine. She is in room 802A. Now will you please come here?”
By now, the two had become accustomed to the long pause, but this one stretched on and on before, finally, a man’s voice came across. “Hello, hello. Captain, Colonel, Sasha has dropped the radio and bolted out of here. I will attempt to follow her.”
Placing his head in his hands, Captain Drexter shook his head. “Now you see how full my plate is.”
The colonel smiled big. “Children, I have four. Now back to the briefing.”
“Wait a second, Colonel. Not to nitpick, but could any of your children single-handedly kill one of those aliens, or every man in this room, including me? While I appreciate the sentiment, my child is also a weapon of mass destruction.”
While no one stood at attention, the room came to a sudden halt as if all the air had been sucked out when the mayor walked in. He strode confidently for his small stature. A cache of assistants and position holders spread out, surrounding the machine known as RUDY. The colonel nudged the captain to the appropriate seat, and the group sat in near unison with the mayor.
“Just to make sure we are all on the same damn page here, Earth is in the fucking sky. How it got there, I don’t fucking know. Aliens are rampaging our streets, probing and killing my, our, people. Anyone disagree that our number-one priority should be fortifying the fuck out of this city?” The mayor looked around the table, locking eyes with each person. “Colonel, something to say?”
The colonel coughed and cleared his throat. “If I pull my men away from the food supplies, we could face two huge hurdles. One, it simply won’t be enough and the effort will be futile. Two, the second we pull away from the supplies, those with the guns are going to take them, and that will mean a strong, organized crime element, and we could lose what, at the moment, is our mandate to lead—the food and water.”
The mayor slammed his fist down on the table. “Damn it, man, you’re right. Keep your men where the
y are. That, however, doesn’t mean we can’t or shouldn’t do anything. Transit authority, security guards, fucking militia volunteers need to be organized. Who wants to run that fucking show . . . Drexter? You have already protested to the assignment. Make your choice now, office job or field job.”
The captain was at a loss. He felt confident Sasha was ok, but he didn’t care about these people, didn’t care about this city or its problems. “Mr. Mayor, I decline both. My mission is more important than whatever you think can be accomplished here. I will give you what advice I might have, but this isn’t my show or my story. Sasha is all I care about and the only thing I want to focus on.”
The mayor rolled his hands together and then wiggled his fingers before standing. He seemed quite composed and cool, yet he climbed onto the table. He strolled down the center of it, looking each person in the eye as he passed. Finally, he stood tall by the captain. “What the fuck kind of man are you?”
The captain wasn’t normally a man to be intimidated, but the mayor’s smallish stature somehow had a demanding and commanding presence.
“Captain Drexter here thinks he is too fucking important to help. Too goddamn important. He has to baby his baby, maybe suckle that teet and all.”
Expecting an assault, the captain raised his hand and edged forward in his seat, but the assault still came unexpectedly as the mayor fell down, off the table, and into the captain’s lap. The mayor feminized his voice as he continued. “Awww, Daddy, I’m so glad we survived the apocalypse. But, Daddy, where are my friends? Why are we the only ones alive? Why do you keep sticking that thing in me?” The mayor batted his eyes and then slapped the captain before rolling back onto the table.
“This man is obviously too pussy to lead men into combat, Colonel. Leave your man in charge of the police. You are taking command of all unassigned personnel. Captain, when you are ready to clean that sand out of your clit, I need you to take charge of coordinating operations here.”
The mayor returned to the head of the table, turned around to face the staff, and casually jumped back off the table and calmly sat down again. The captain was frozen with embarrassment and stunned with anger. He felt like both laughing and attacking. The colonel shot the captain a look that said, if nothing else, “I told you so.”
The mayor, obviously having some experience dressing down assertive men, took no time to let the situation linger. Instead, he broke out and continued the meeting as if nothing had happened. “Moving on, I need a clear rundown of what resources I have available. Mr. Anderson, I need to know what the hell is going on with our equipment.”
One of the men sitting along the far side of the table shuffled some papers, and after a hesitant start and a look of apology to the captain, he finally answered. “Well, yes, um. Mostly bad news, I am afraid. Whatever has happened has completely detached us from the power grid. There is the mothballed Edison compound, but we would need to do some work to get that up and running, and let’s just say that it’s going to be dirty and we are going to need a lot of coal. Currently there are forty known buildings with positive power supplies from their own internal sources.
“As for our equipment here, we are still working on getting our primary generator turned on. Our secondary generator is only equipped to last a day or two, so our time is running short.
“All vehicles, public and civilian, have somehow been disabled. The mechanics are optimistic they might be able to get a pre-computer vehicle up and running.
“Food—all designated storage and food venders have been declared positive control, but as expected, it didn’t take long before several, if not all, of the smaller outlets got raided.
“Radios and batteries are currently enough to last, but once they start running out of juice, we have no way of recharging them. Luckily, Mr. Hashmore implemented the runner system before he left, so we can still communicate with the others, but we have no idea of the total losses yet.
“The hospitals have enough reserves to last out a week, but as of right now, we are basically looking at a return to the damn Stone Age.”
“Hold the commentary, damn it. Focus on getting what good fuel we have in reserves to the places that need it.” The mayor moved on to his next assistant before the news could even sink in “Ms. Stevens, you’re next on the bad-news stand. Tell me what you got.”
Ms. Stevens, a middle-aged woman with a nice body and youngish face, spoke clearly but without making eye contact. “Uh, yes, I do have some good news. Thanks in large part to Mr. Hashmore, our supply of water is actually pretty good. The bad news is that, without power, we have no way of filtering or distributing it.”
The mayor cursed under his breath, moved his hands in a cross, and looked aloft. “Captain, simply do your best. I hired the best, so don’t worry about matching his shoes—simply try to fill them.” The mayor hunted the faces of those around the table before he called on his next assistant.
“Mr. Drexter. The colonel’s men here will continue oversight of the food and public order. At your request, the colonel himself will organize and lead the defense force. Your mission, then, is to organize the rest of fucking society. That means the building collapse, hospitals, and transit are now your responsibility. Additionally, you must come up with a food-and-water distribution system. Ms. Stevens and Mr. Anderson will assist you on that end as well. Mr. Anderson’s first priority is to work with the utilities to get them up and running. Your job, Mr. Hashmore, is to make sure they have what they need in terms of supplies and protection and proper priorities. And last, Mr. Hashmore . . . excuse me, Captain Drexter, we will need lists of both the living and the dead.”
Again the mayor stood up, but not on the table this time. “These are trying times, my friends, but we are fated to meet this task. Each of us must work outside our comfort zone, with consequences we wish weren’t so. Now, take a look around the room and know this. This is our team. There are no secrets, only weaknesses to overcome.” With that, the mayor clapped and headed out of the room.
The room collapsed into their chairs, exhaling in a collective breath. They spent the next few seconds looking at each other, trying to decide which emotion they should be feeling, of the many that man had brought out in such a short time. The colonel, having worked with the mayor the longest, was the first to stand and push in his chair. The motion snapped the rest of the group from their trances, and the room suddenly burst into activity.
Captain Drexter followed after the colonel, tapped him on the shoulder, and tried not to look nervous. The colonel turned around and smiled his “I told you so” smile. He didn’t say anything, just raised his eyebrows in response.
The captain started off with his hand in his hair, but by the end, he was nearly standing at attention. “Colonel, I, um, well I’m not really . . . you know, um, trained, yes, I’m not trained. Not trained for this job and my daughter. The army, you know, they never trained me for this type of work. I do not have the proper training to properly execute this job and request reassignment.”
The colonel lowered one eyebrow. “Are you asking me to switch roles?” He paused as if expecting a response and then burst out. “Too late, Romeo. The mayor gave you a chance in there, and you failed to take it. Now the sick, unfortunate, and whiny are your problem. I don’t even have the power to reassign. Go ask the mayor. If you didn’t notice, he is the boss around here. Even if he is as loony as a tune.”
Captain Drexter still lacked the proper brainpower to keep up and move forward with the dramatic changes recently occurring in his life.
The colonel spoke again. “If you want my advice, trust your gut and your heart. The mayor might seem bat-shit crazy, but there is a good heart buried in there somewhere. I can tell he’s worried about Maria too. She may be a whore of wife, but that man loves her, and he won’t be quite the same until she is back.” The colonel slapped the captain on his back and strode off, leaving a cache of assistants all looking at him for guidance.
“Oh, Lord.” The captain
spoke under his breath. “Oh, Lord, what the hell have you gotten me into?” He raised his eyes to the sky. Had there not been a building in the way, he’d have been looking directly at Earth.
The situation was ever changing, but with focus and little thought power, the captain was able to move into the job easier than expected. Strange people kept approaching him and identifying themselves as belonging to either this department or that organization, or hell, even X building. The rules of the old world had been thrown out, and he was being relied upon to help form the rules of the new.
At many younger points in his lifetime, the captain would have enjoyed such a challenge, such an impactful position. Yet now all he could do was constantly bug the police for updates on his daughter. He wouldn’t feel the same until she was physically here. Oh, how he longed for the energy and persistence of youth. In fact, this whole ordeal had left him feeling dog tired, anxious, and now even a little depressed—all symptoms a nice sativa smoke could cure, but there was a very real possibility he would never be able to smoke again.
Sasha was still refusing to come to the center, but she was with Emilia, and her actions and attitude suggested that she still had control over the fog. Emilia was in rough shape, and even with the alien doctors’ advanced knowledge, there was still a chance of her passing, even if remote. Sasha had developed fast feelings for her new friend Emilia, and it brought a strange knot to his stomach.
It would continue to be a long day for the captain. Building lines of communication was easier than expected, with much of the infrastructure put in place by his predecessor, but the hard part was getting the correct message to its desired destination. The computer proved adept at inventory and personnel control, but he had to assign a full-time person to the task of keeping it all organized.
In truth, for all the pressure put on him, he found most of his job to be simply matching needs and abilities. This group needed this and had X capability, while that group over there needed that and could do this. It was really very military-like, just non-combat missions, debris removal, equipment transportation, personnel location, and such.