There’s your anarchy for you.
I kept walking but didn’t have to go far before I heard a familiar voice.
“Eshe,” Savita said.
I turned, finding her with the exo helmet removed, held beneath her arm.
“Sachi was looking for you,” she said, turning north, “come on.”
I trotted to catch up with her.
“Five thousand six hundred twelve,” Savita said.
“Huh?”
“That’s how many people are here,” she said, “four hundred ninety-eight of which have injuries that will hinder their movement.”
I nodded, looking back and forth at the people milling around in confusion. A man in a leather jacket with a black armband containing a white skull and two crossed rifles beneath it – the Southern Rebels – shakily brought a cigarette to his lips. A woman wearing a yellow armband showing a green bundle of arrows, a white Christian cross, and a red rifle – the Hijos Descarriados – along with two pre-teen boys, tried to huddle both of them under a single blanket. Two men with gray hair and an armband showing the Colorado state flag with a yellow Gadsden snake proclaiming ‘Don’t Tread on Me’ below it – the Cortez Crucible – carried .45 caliber rifles slung over their backs and passed a bottle of liquor back and forth. A young woman cradling her high heels under one arm, the other in a sling, walked aimlessly around in her stockings. Three girls lying side-by-side, their shirts caked with dried blood, whimpered as they bunched together for warmth. Two teenage boys with Cortez Crucible armbands rummaged through supplies, looking around to make sure nobody was watching.
And so many more. People as far as I could see in every direction.
“But that’s not what’ll cause us the most trouble,” Savita said.
“I know,” I said, “this place is a powder keg. These different gangs are going to start killing each other if the CSA doesn’t start doing it themselves.”
Both of us turned, hearing Sachi’s voice. I spotted her arguing with a gray-haired man in a light and dark brown camouflaged LPX-033 Liberty Protection exo, helmet removed. I couldn’t make out what they were saying yet, but I could hear the man’s grizzled voice yelling something at her.
“You have no fucking jurisdiction,” the gray-haired man growled as Savita and I approached, “my commanding officer was killed here today, which puts me in charge of protecting everyone subscribed to Liberty Protection.”
“You can’t go east,” Sachi said in a calm voice, “you’re going to get them killed.”
“We have clients in Mancos, Hesperus, and Durango,” the gray-haired man said.
“I came through Hesperus and Mancos,” Sachi said, “they’re lost. Occupied by CSA forces.”
“What, are you trying to force us to come north with you?” he asked, “That goddamn snowstorm is coming. It’ll be fucking suicide.”
“It’ll be suicide to go east,” Sachi said, “if you think what just happened here in Cortez was bad, this was barely more than a scouting mission. The real invasion is going up the 25, marching on Denver. And I’m assuming a force is coming down to meet them from Nebraska, too. But like you, we’ve lost all communication with our people to the east, so I don’t know what’s going on up there right now.”
“All this fuckin’ trouble’s because of you,” the gray-haired man pointed accusingly at Sachi, “and those traitors at LoC Security.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that going east is a bad idea,” Sachi said, remaining calm, “they will already consider everyone here armed and hostile.”
“Don’t you fuckin’ talk down tuh me, ya stupid Jap cunt,” he said, only angered by Sachi’s calm, “am I supposed to just abandon my clients?”
“Mancos and Hesperus surrendered without violence,” Sachi said, “if you go marching in there, more of them will probably die than you save. We need to be more strategic about this.”
“Don’t fuckin’ talk tuh me about strategy,” he said, “I served in Iraq against the Islamic State before you were even born.”
“And now there is an Islamic State,” Sachi said, “so whose side were you fighting for over there?”
“Fuck you, you stupid tranny Jap cunt piece of shit!” he shouted, spitting, so angry he struggled to get the words out.
“We’re going north,” Sachi said, “if anyone wants to die following a fool, they’re free to do so.”
The man cursed some more as Sachi started walking toward Savita and me, a smirk spreading across her face when she saw me. The man finally turned away, a handful of Liberty Protection people following behind him.
“Glad to see you made it,” Sachi said, and then turning to Savita, “you got the count?”
“Five thousand six hundred twelve,” Savita said, “four hundred ninety-eight with severe injuries.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know how many of them are under Liberty Protection?” she asked.
“About fifteen hundred,” someone said. I turned, seeing Colonel Riviera approach, only a slight limp as she stepped with her right exoskeleton leg.
“How do you know?” Sachi asked, watching her approach.
“LoC Security always kept tabs on who was associated with which gang,” Riviera said, stopping near us.
Sachi nodded, pursing her lips. “So where does LoC Security plan on going?”
“North,” Riviera said. “Grand Junction.”
“Grand Junction….” Sachi repeated, “what about the other gangs?”
“I think the Southern Rebels are still planning to head east,” Savita said, “but the other three big ones around here – the Crusaders, Cortez Crucible, Hijos Descarriados – all seem to be on board with going north. Not sure about the smaller outfits.”
“Hopefully we can reestablish communication from Grand Junction,” Riviera said, “even if not, LoC Security has a base and weapons depot there. But your new friend Major Forrester is right. That snowstorm will be hitting us in about seven days, and we probably won’t be able to get everyone into a vehicle.”
“Nobody’s taking a vehicle,” Sachi said, “those UAVs will target them too easily.”
“We’ll lose a lot of people,” Riviera said.
“I’d rather lose a lot of them than lose all of them,” Sachi said, “If we can go thirty-five miles a day, we can beat the snowstorm with time to spare.”
Riviera scoffed, “there’s no way we’ll make thirty-five miles a day on foot with all these injured people. We’ll be lucky if we can do twenty a day.”
Sachi looked to me, “what do you think?”
I nodded, considering this. “Thirty-five a day is hard even when everyone’s in good shape, but I think we can do more than twenty. I’ve moved that far under worse conditions before.”
“People are gonna die,” Riviera said.
“You can stay here and surrender,” Sachi said, “If they don’t kill you, the CSA might even give you a cozy cell that’ll keep you nice and warm during snowstorms. Me and my people – and anyone else who wants to come along – are marching north. If you choose not to come with us, that might be the last free decision you ever get to make.”
“This is where I’m really going to need your help,” Sachi said as we walked to where her supply crate sat, “you’re probably the only other person here who’s ever done something like this.”
Everyone on the stretch of road was busy gathering what they could – food, medicine, clothing, weapons – and preparing. It was becoming clear, too, that black markets were beginning to form as different gangs made claim to supplies. A gunshot rang out when a Southern Rebel found a Hijos Descarriados member taking a bag of gauze, resulting in a scuffle that only ended when some of Sachi’s people got involved.
Major Forrester started gathering a large group of his own people. His magnified voice reverberated through the streets, indecipherable from where I was. The Southern Rebels had started gathering nearby the Liberty Protection clients. Most of the others appeared to be preparing to head nort
h. Yet others began dispersing, going back to their houses. Colonel Riviera and her people were talking to leaders of the other gangs, attempting to get as many of their people to march north with us as they could.
When we arrived amongst Sachi’s people, Rocky was there opening up a large crate.
“I don’t know how much I can do,” I told her.
“This might help,” Rocky grinned, looking to me as he pulled to top of the crate off with his exo clad hands.
Inside I saw the pieces of an Enduracorp made EXO:E-041 exoskeleton suit packed away in foam. I reached in, pulling out one of the boots, colored in generic light gray.
“I’m pretty sure it’ll fit you,” Sachi said.
Sachi and Rocky helped me pull the rest of it out of the box and put it on. The others spoke to each other in Spanish, watching Sachi and Rocky dress me with mild interest. I recognized Pedro and Manny amongst Sachi’s people, but the others were only vaguely familiar to me – no names to go with the faces – but there were about forty of them in total.
Finally, the exoskeleton suit was all put together, leaving only the helmet off.
“So, what d’ya think, dude?” Rocky asked, grinning.
I tried walking with it. It made me about a foot taller than usual. I manipulated the hands out in front of me, opening and closing the fingers, feeling the way the suit responded to my movements without any resistance. The left arm had a mounted .50 caliber fully automatic machine gun and MGL grenade launcher and the right had a 30 mm semi-automatic gun.
“It’s surprisingly easy to maneuver,” I said.
“Yeah,” Sachi said, “it has a lot of fancy sensors and shit so that the computer moves it along with you. Good at keeping your balance, too. Try the helmet.”
I put the sleek gray helmet on over my head, the computer automatically syncing up with my ARs, the early morning dimness lighting up with the full colored night vision. Displays showed how much ammunition I had for each weapon – fifteen 40x53 mm grenades, thirty of the 30x173 mm 5833 grains rounds, and sixteen hundred .50 BMG 12.7x99 mm 750 grains rounds. When I moved the arms around, the display showed a transparent beam where the arm mounted artillery was aimed. It also showed where Sachi’s other people within range were on the map overlay.
“When you give the command to fire, the suit automatically senses and corrects for recoil, keeping the arms steady,” Sachi said. “The tracking beams you see do automatically correct for wind, but it can only sense the wind that’s right around you, so the margin of error is higher at long distances. Grenades have a small amount of corrective laser guided seeking abilities, but that works best at long ranges.”
“Now ya just need ta make that shit your own,” Rocky said, looking down at the details on his making it look like black plate armor from medieval times.
“Not sure I’m ready to go that far yet,” I said.
“Yeah, but are ya ready to fuck some shit up?” Rocky asked.
“I’m at least ready to go,” I said.
I volunteered to stay with the two companies taking the rearguard. That amounted to a total of eighteen people, nine in each company. Along with us were fifteen LoC Security people. Sachi and Savita took the lead with three nine-person companies, Colonel Riviera going with them with about twenty LoC Security people. It was five minutes after they took off, a procession of 1164 people following behind them, that we finally started moving. Akira, Yukiko, and Aveena were near the rear of the civilian column with us, trudging north on the 145 along with the rest of the refugees, steam coming from their mouths in the cold.
I felt naked out in the wide open, the sun now lighting the morning sky. But everything was quiet, only the murmurs of people complaining or spreading rumors to accompany us. Everyone seemed motivated, moving at an encouraging pace, yet in the large expanse it was difficult to tell how much progress was being made.
“So, this is the Eshe that Sachi talks about?” a man asked in Spanish, falling in step with Rocky to my left. He had his helmet off, dark wavy hair slicked back across his head, a youthful grin on his square jaw. His exo suit looked sleek and well maintained, but didn’t contain the same kind of personalized flair that many of others had.
Rocky grinned, “He is.” He turned to me, pointing at the man, “and this is the legendary César.”
“In my own mind,” the man said, “my, he is just adorable. I was saddened to see you covering up his delicious body with all that plastic.”
Rocky looked to me again, “you’ll have to excuse César. He likes younger men.”
“Which is so unfortunate,” another voice said in Spanish as two women fell in step to my right. “He’s the best-looking guy in the whole company.”
The woman who spoke had her helmet off, a mess of short, black hair on a head sitting atop a muscular neck. The helmet beneath her arm was fashioned to look like a skull, with gritting teeth where the mouth goes and a visor that looked like gaping eyes. The rest of the suit was molded to look like bones.
The woman beside her had light brown skin and sandy blonde hair, a face that looked more like it belonged on a runway model than on a soldier. But her delicate features were juxtaposed with the dark gray exoskeleton she wore, adorned with spikes on the shoulders and elbows, nubby horns on the helmet carried under her arm, and a demon’s face splashed in blood red across the chest.
“You insult me, madam,” Rocky said, “I won’t stoop to that level and tell everyone how often you come beggin’ me for the dick.”
The woman laughed, “Don’t mistake availability for favorability.” She turned to me, “and people say chivalry’s dead. If Rocky won’t introduce us – I’m Emma and this,” she signaled to the woman walking next to her, “is Olivia.”
I looked between the three I’d just met for a moment, not getting a chance to respond before they all burst into laughter.
“A man of few words,” César said, “we could use more of them in our company.”
“I take it you’re all ex-cartel?” I said.
Emma grinned, “Not a man of few words. Just one who doesn’t suffer small talk.”
“Most of us are ex-cartel,” César said.
“You wonder about our loyalty,” Olivia said, her gaze staying forward.
“I do.”
She turned to me, “those in our company knew each other before joining the cartel, and worked together once we did.”
Olivia stopped talking, but she didn’t need to say anything further. This was more about family than it was anything else for them. Sachi simply gave them something to do in the absence of the cartel.
As we walked, the four of them introduced me to the rest of the rearguard company that answered directly to Sachi. I had already met Pedro and Manny, but now I knew that they had been in the Colombian branch of the cartel before joining Sachi.
With them were two men named Benito and Victor.
Benito was the only one of them not using an exoskeleton suit. He was an older man with gray hair and a scarred-up face. Both of his eyes were bionic, arms prosthetic, an AK-47 and a sawed-off shotgun strapped to his back.
Victor was a middle-aged man who traced his lineage back to the Incans. His face was covered in swirling black tattoos, his double pupils barely visible in the middle of his jet-black sclera. He wore an exoskeleton with intricate Incan designs that matched his face tattooing molded into the polymer armor. In addition to the standard weapons, Victor had custom flamethrowers mounted to each arm of his exoskeleton.
To fill out their company, the ninth was a humorless man named Álvarez. He had a plain looking face with a stern expression, head shaved bald, no tattoos or markings, and his exo suit had a state-of-the-art camouflage that mimicked the color of the environment. It didn’t make him invisible, but even walking twenty feet ahead of me it became difficult to distinguish him from the crowd of marchers. His introduction was actually more of a word to the wise. He had been part of the Mexican cartel, sent to Colombia early on in Sachi’s toppling o
f the Mexican cartels to carry out assassinations of high-level rivals, but he had joined with the rest of them after it became obvious that the Mexican cartel’s days were numbered.
The introduction to the other company was faster and less detailed, merely putting names to faces. Most of them had also been tied to the cartels in one way or another before joining Sachi’s army, but Savita was their direct superior.
The large group continued the move in relative quiet, only murmurs heard over the footsteps of just over a thousand people. Rocky’s company would occasionally crack jokes, usually at each other’s expense, but even they mostly walked in silence. When lunch time came, everyone kept moving, eating as they walked.
Communication with people in front of the column was done using two-way radio communications through the exo suits, as any long distance communications remained inaccessible to us. Sachi designated a channel for her people and LoC Security to communicate with each other. Most of the communications done this way were status checks, but otherwise the radio stayed quiet, too.
About an hour after lunch, the status check from the rearguard had more to report.
“We’ve got vehicles approaching us,” Rocky reported to Sachi.
“CSA?” she asked.
“Doesn’t look like it,” Rocky said, “I’m guessing they’re coming from Cortez.”
“That might be Forrester,” Colonel Riviera said. “I’m guessing he’s decided to take your advice about going north, but doesn’t believe you about vehicles making him a target.”
“Goddamit,” Sachi said, “when everyone sees them ride past, they’re going to get angry about walking. We’ll probably have quite a few abandon us.”
“We should get everyone off the road,” Rocky said, “they’ll probably be here in just a few minutes.”
Maneuvering over a thousand undisciplined people was easier said than done. It took five minutes for the procession of vehicles to catch up to us and they still had to slow down and wait for stragglers to move off the road.
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