Tomorrow's Dawn (Book 2): Fractured Paradise

by Wohlrab, Jeff

  Aaron quickly shoveled the rest of the pasta into his mouth. “I’m going!” He motioned to Jensen, “Care to accompany me?”

  Jensen sighed and looked longingly at his plate, which he had just filled. He quickly dipped the piece of still warm bread into the sauce and said, “Let me grab my boots,” before he stuffed it into his mouth.

  Aaron accompanied him out to the porch, acting like a man without a care in the world, and stood there looking into the still night air as Jensen pulled on his soaking wet boots. When he reached for his plate carrier, Aaron held out a hand. “You don’t need that. We’re not going far.”

  The younger man hesitated, torn for a moment. That plate carrier had already saved his life once, but this strange man had a confidence he respected, though he didn’t understand it. It took some effort, but he let the wet plate carrier sink back to the ground. He already had cold, wet feet. If the Special Forces veteran said he didn’t have to wear a cold, wet plate carrier, maybe he could make an exception this time.

  He stood slowly, munching on the last of the bread, enjoying the crunch of the crispy crust as he did so. He reached into a cargo pocked and pulled out a flashlight. “Lead the way.”

  Aaron shook his head. “You won’t need that either.” Jensen followed him back to the Humvee, where the SF guy pulled out a backpack and rummaged inside. He placed a pair of night-vision goggles into Jensen’s hands. “I assume you know how to use these?”

  Jensen nodded, the mystery growing deeper. He placed them over his eyes and powered them on as their surroundings lit up and took on a greenish glow. It wasn’t the deep green he was familiar with; this model had some semblance of depth and color to it. It was amazing. He simply said, “Wow” as he followed the older man, who somehow managed to move almost silently, even in the dark.

  Instead of going down the road, they cut through the woods toward the stream. They stopped near where Jensen had seen a boot print earlier in the day. Aaron pointed, “I thought you were going to see me then. That was careless.” He started to walk forward again, “You have good instincts. Pakistan?”

  Jensen nodded, even though the other man wasn’t looking at him. “Mostly. Pakistan and India.”

  After a few more steps, another question. “Kashmir?”

  Jenson answered in the affirmative.

  “Any run ins with the Chinese up there?”

  Jensen grunted. He’d had a few, though neither side had taken any casualties. They were mostly testing each other out. The Chinese had a large military presence in that region and had frequent clashes with the Indian military.

  Aaron told him, “I fought them a few times in Nepal.”

  Jensen did some quick math. That war had ended almost ten years ago when China claimed the country as part of its sovereign territory. “You fought with the Gurkhas?”

  From up ahead, Aaron’s quiet voice carried back to him. “I was a military advisor there when the war started.” That put Aaron’s service sometime around 2021, when the Chinese had softened Nepal’s air defenses with massive bombardments and attacked through Tibet.

  Some of the states had been able to resist for months, mostly because of the amazing tenacity of the Gurkhas, but it hadn’t taken long. By the end of that year, Nepal had ceased to exist as a country. China had taken Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan not long after. The world had condemned those actions, but nobody intervened. As long as China maintained a buffer between it and Russia, nobody in government seemed willing to intervene.

  Jensen would have laughed about all the “thoughts and prayers” posts on social media and the militants in the blogosphere demanding action; they were all empty words. Nobody lifted a finger to help the Nepalese, or Kyrgyz, or Tajiks. Military advisors were sent and engaged in limited combat, but they were withdrawn when it became clear all was lost. From the sound of it, Aaron had been one of them.

  “I’ve scouted the area. You’ve got a bear that hangs around the southern side of your mountain, a couple empty cabins, and a man living up the road by himself. This is a good place. Plenty of water, electricity, wood. I like it.”

  Jensen didn’t know what to say but felt compelled to explain. “Sheila, she’s a doctor, her boyfriend bought this place a few years ago. When Fort Gordon got nuked, we started to head this way.”

  Aaron stopped and interrupted him. “Fort Gordon is gone?” He seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. “How’d that happen?”

  Jensen told him “I’m not sure. Benton, the big guy that was on watch, thinks it was a sub. They attacked after they figured enough of the surviving intel people would have moved in.”

  Aaron asked, “Daniel? The big guy?”

  Jensen confirmed his suspicion. “Yeah, Daniel Benton. He’s an Air Force intel guy—or was.”

  That got Aaron’s attention. “You don’t say? He’s an intel weenie? In the Air Force? I had him pegged for a Jarhead or something.”

  Jensen snorted, “Don’t you dare let him hear you say that. He’d pull your scrotum off through your throat.”

  He could almost feel the older man wince as he said that. “Very descriptive, I’ll be sure not to do that.” He turned and took a few more silent steps. “Could have been the Russians, but more likely the Chinese. That’s more like them.”

  Jensen was lost for a second before he realized Aaron was talking about the attack on Fort Gordon. “Why do you say that?”

  The response was quick. “The Russians would have just nuked it from the start. The Chinese are more likely to wait until the target becomes as attractive as possible before destroying it.” He paused for a moment. “They waited until the U.S. had fully committed advisors before bombing those camps. They knew exactly where we were.” He sighed. “Only a few of us made it out. It was a message not to interfere. It worked.” They were approaching the road by this time, still speaking quietly. Aaron veered off to the right slightly. “I was the only one from my class that survived.” They could see the road ahead. “When I got back, I dropped my papers.”

  By now, they had arrived at a small car covered in camo mesh and branches. Through the NVGs, it almost looked like part of the landscape. “Would you help me clear this?” Aaron started pulling branches from the mesh and flung them to the side, Jensen leaning in to help. Once it was clear, Aaron swept the mesh from atop the car and bundled it up.

  Jensen had an epiphany. “Are you Aaron Wingler?”

  The older man didn’t pause for a moment as he pressed the mesh together. “Have been since birth.”

  “Aaron Wingler of Baghdad, Mosul, Kandahar, and Kunduz?”

  Without missing a beat, the older man said “Along with Basra, Kirkuk, Al Asad, Kabul, Jalalabad, and Bharatpur, among others.”

  Jensen almost had to sit down; he was in the presence of a legend. He almost stuttered as he asked, “The Mosul dam?”

  To which Aaron replied, “Almost got me court martialed.”

  Jensen followed up. “The British special forces team?”

  Aaron retorted. “That’s how I got my AICS.”

  Jensen paused before he asked his final question. “Helmand?”

  Aaron looked up. “Only survived because Jake took the bullets intended for me. Hop in.”

  Jensen climbed into the little car. The front seats were cramped, and the back seat was little more than a shelf. On that shelf were several pies. There were also tins, which Jensen suspected held peanut butter cookies. “I can’t believe it. I thought those were just stories.”

  Aaron started the car forward and turned back toward the road up to the cabin. “They are. They’re just stories. I’m a baker now.” He turned slightly to catch Jensen’s eye, which he could feel even with the NVGs in place. “Understand?”

  Jensen thought for a moment, trying to make sure he did understand. “Got it, Chief. Baker it is.”

  Chapter 12

  Inside the cabin, there were more questions. Daniel was particularly thrown off by the arrival of the strange man. Not only had he m
anaged to get into a Humvee right next to him while he was on watch, the Dahlonega group all seemed to know him, Marcy particularly well. He hadn’t said much to her, but that got under his skin a little bit nonetheless. “So, he’s a baker?”

  Marcy was the first to answer. “He’s an artist! He makes the best pies and cakes and cookies.”

  Emmy added, “If he was serious about the pecan pie, you’ll see in a minute. It’s absolutely amazing.”

  Brent watched all of this with a sly grin. He was resisting the temptation to egg Daniel on even more, but his obvious discomfiture with Marcy’s like for the older man made it difficult.

  He decided to throw Daniel a lifeline. “He and his wife, Sasha, own the bakery in Dahlonega. He’s been there for, what do you think Marcy, about seven or eight years?”

  Marcy appeared to be lost in thought for a moment. “That sounds about right. I think they opened in ’22 or ’23.”

  She looked to Emmy for support, who said, “It might be ten years; they’ve been around for a while. Maybe it’s just seven or eight.”

  Brent chimed in again. “Definitely not ten. I remember starting to pick up doughnuts every day when we were working on the Chatman house, which was in ’22.” He rubbed his belly. “The raspberry cream filling was my favorite.” He turned to Daniel to explain, “He didn’t use a premade filling. He mixed it up every morning.”

  By then, Daniel had moved a little bit closer to the countertop and snagged another piece of the fresh bread. When Dave gave him a doubtful look, he shrugged and said, “I’m bigger than you guys. I need more food!”

  Emmy laughed at that. “You certainly are bigger, but that’s going to cut into your allotment of pie.”

  Daniel looked down at his half-eaten piece of bread. “Well that seems mean.”

  By then, the older man had come to a conclusion. “Yeah, I think Jake’s place opened up in fall of 2022.” He nodded, as if for emphasis. “I’m pretty sure that’s right.”

  Daniel looked puzzled, “I thought his name was Aaron?”

  Brent replied, “It is, but his bakery is named Jake’s. He said it was named after an old Army buddy of his. He said he saved his life once and he wanted to honor him. So Jake’s it is.”

  Daniel had another question for them. “If he’s from Dahlonega, why wasn’t he with your group when you left?”

  Brent sighed. “He hated Cody and didn’t want to be anywhere near him.” The former construction worker struggled for words. “Cody was an asshole. He liked to try to get under Aaron’s skin about how only stupid people joined the military, while people like him went to college. Aaron tolerated him at first, but when Cody started saying nasty things about Sasha, they had words.”

  Daniel’s curiosity was piqued by this statement, “His wife? Like what?”

  Brent looked around at the rest of the gathering, not sure if they were aware of what had transpired but willing himself to go ahead anyway. “Sasha was born in the Ukraine, and Cody liked to say she just married to him to get a green card. Which is stupid. She’s been a citizen since she was a kid. She was adopted from the Ukraine and grew up in Virginia.”

  “He sounds like a real piece of work. I almost want to dig him up just so I can kill him again.” Daniel noticed the shocked reactions from Dylan and Abby, “What? Good people. Good. Bad people. Bad. It’s worked for me so far.” He noticed Sheila walk over to them and say a few quiet words. They both nodded and relaxed a little bit. “So those two stayed behind?”

  Brent nodded. “They stayed behind with a few of the others. Cody was not well liked. Come to think of it, if we’d just left him behind, we probably would have had a more sizeable group.” A shadow crossed his face for a moment, but quickly departed. Daniel knew what he was feeling. In hindsight, things tend to become more obvious and regret can set in. Right now, Daniel figured he was looking around the room and imagining how full it would be if they had simply left Cody behind. His irrational desire to take down Jensen had ultimately ended in the deaths of most of their group.

  Nobody in that group knew Cody had tried to throw in his lot with the attackers. The man had offered to assist them in killing the others and rounding up the women for the murderers and potential rapists. If that little tidbit had become known, it’s very doubtful he would be resting in a grave alongside his former compatriots. He’d have been lucky if they’d simply dumped his body into the river with the others.

  It was then, with Brent’s mind on those lost, Daniel’s mind on the depths of man’s ability to destroy, and Dylan and Abby still grappling with the idea that the large man seemed so comfortable with killing he was joking about it, when Aaron and Jensen returned from their trip down the mountain. It was jarring when the two men walked in carrying pies and tins of cookies with big smiles on their faces. It didn’t fit with the specter of death that had just been looming in their minds.

  Marcy recovered quickly. “You brought the pies! Oh my god! I was worried you might be joking!”

  Aaron quickly stopped smiling and gave her a mock serious look. “I would NEVER joke about pies young lady. I braved darkness, danger, and dinosaurs to bring you these deliciously sweet concoctions.”

  Daniel quipped. “Wouldn’t that just be great if we had to worry about raptors too. Ugh.”

  Aaron placed several pecan pies on the counter and motioned for Jensen to set the cookies next to them. When Jensen opened the metal lid, the warm smell of peanut butter wafted out to join the sugary sweetness of the pies. The scent of dessert, mixed with the spices and garlic from the pasta, combined with the warm light in the dark night to make him feel content, if just for a moment. It felt surreal, like a holiday remembered from long ago.

  Jensen looked at Aaron for approval and received a nod before he dipped his hand in to pick out a large cookie with ridges across the top. Somehow, even after spending three days in the car, it was still moist. He chewed slowly with his eyes closed, savoring the moment. The weeks and months of hardship melted away and he felt like a little kid again. It made him miss his parents.

  He could hear the muffled groans and sighs of the others as they dipped into slices of pie or cookies of their own. It was strange how such a little thing wasn’t noticed as missing until it was present again. He was suddenly regretful he’d decided to partake, because when these were gone again, he’d miss them all the more. He opened his eyes and looked at Aaron, “You, sir, are a great American hero.” He didn’t miss the warning look he received in return at the double entendre.

  Aaron spoke up. “Not a hero, just a baker. I hope you guys like these.”

  From the side, Jessica piped in, “You’re MY hero! This is amazing!”

  From around the room, similar comments flowed from all present. Aaron stood for a moment, smiling, and basked in the praise. He was clearly proud of his handiwork.

  As the sweets disappeared, Jensen noticed Aaron hadn’t eaten a piece of pie or picked up a cookie. “Aren’t you going to have any?”

  Aaron shook his head and patted his slim stomach. “I have to watch my weight. The pounds don’t come off like they did when I was your age. I don’t want Sasha running off on me.”

  As Aaron took off his light jacket, it was clear he’d made an effort to stay in shape after his military career had ended. He had visible tattoos on his forearms, but two in particular caught Jensen’s eye. On his left arm was ‘memento mori’ and on the right was ‘memento vivere.’ The former Warrant Officer noticed the curious stare and held them up for closer inspection. He raised his left arm slightly “Memento mori means, ‘remember we die.’” Then he raised his right “Memento vivere means ‘remember to live.’”

  It was such a simple concept, but both Daniel and Jensen reacted strongly to that message. Perhaps it was the message they’d been seeking on their own and together. Yes, we will die, but why give up on life even while we are living it? That’s little more than a living death. Jensen looked at the older man, who had put down his left arm, but still held
up his right toward Jensen. When their eyes met, Aaron just nodded and dropped his arm.

  Of those gathered, only Brent seemed to notice. The twinkle was back in his eye. Something had just transpired. Something amazing. Jensen’s shoulders seemed a little more upright. Something had changed in his posture in that moment. It was almost as though some weight he’d been carrying had been cast off or lessened.

  It had. Jensen thought back to the reports of the first nuclear impact. He’d been running. He’d been looking for a safe place to hole up, where he could be alone, where he wouldn’t be in danger. Helen, Columbus, Appling, and now a secluded mountaintop. When he could, he’d been in his tub, protected from the crazy world around him. Looking around him, he realized this was a different world. Escape and evasion wouldn’t be enough. It was time to live again.

  The word ‘secluded’ bounced around in his head for a few moments. “Hey, Aaron. How did you find us anyway?”

  Aaron grinned. “I wondered when you were going to get around to that. I just followed you from the bank.” Jensen was shocked, he’d been watching behind them pretty carefully during the return trip and hadn’t noticed anyone tailing them, even as they reached the mountains.

  “How did you know they would be here?” Jensen indicated the Dahlonega survivors.

  Aaron grinned even wider, and indicated Brent. “Because he was with you.”

  That made sense. Jensen kicked himself for not thinking of that before he asked the question.

  “I would have come up then, but I wanted to check the place out and make sure they weren’t here under duress. If they had been, I would have killed all of you and saved them.”

  Daniel scoffed. “Sure you would have.” So far, they’d been in a number of battles and had come out on top each time. They’d lost Todd, yes, but they’d killed many more without taking any real damage. How would one older man be able to take them out? Aaron just looked at him, still smiling. Daniel noticed Jensen looking at him as well, and he nodded.