Less than a minute later Ethan settled into his position behind a newly constructed brick machinegun nest with ornate but functional barriers between it and the intersections. It was easy to see the off ramp from the gun positions, but from the view of those entering the town the guns were just another stick in a row of trees. It didn’t take long for the SUV, its rims a conspicuous government flat black, to pull into the quarantined area that had been constructed under the bridge. Anyone entering drove up for a preliminary check, if you’re a newcomer you go to a mandatory vehicle search with an amnesty period before the search begins, for your convenience of course, and then if you weren’t carrying any hard chemical drugs or zombies you got in. Ethan noticed they bypassed the amnesty box as if it didn’t exist and pulled to a stop inside the search area. They dismounted the vehicle and looked as if having their personal space violated was a matter of daily life to them. Deputies went over the car with the same attention to detail Ethan demanded of the men assigned to the Sallyport. They found nothing illegal, which wasn’t surprising. (As a side note, Ethan liked the check the amnesty box after newcomers came in. Usually he found stuff like empty liquor bottles, trash or drugs, but occasionally he found a dildo. Never to be referred to as your dildo, but to call it the dildo. [Fight Club might be a bad influence on my generation.])
Down a flight of questionably rickety stairs from the parking lot Ethan found himself in a cigarette filled trash pit that was someone’s idea of a Command and Control Center for the search bunker. He made his objections to the trash heard, but the slovenly computer nerd behind the controls barely paid him any mind, busying himself painting his new hand-made Bobba Fett armor, which actually looked bite-proof. He was playing a computer game with a smoking hot Elf woman as the character and monitoring the radios with expert accuracy at the same time. No one ever complained about Nate’s performance. His housekeeping, however…
Seeing he was going to be ignored Ethan kicked the trash out of his was until he got to the window and could watch the search being conducted. One man, one woman, one black SUV Hybrid with GMC logos on the front and rear. Same as last time. They had nothing but personal survival equipment, personal documents, and a modest stash of two Ruger .22’s, two .22 caliber Taurus revolvers, and a hundred or so rounds for each. In the back of their truck was a professionally made and installed secondary fuel tank and a half used bladder of water. This truck was meant to travel. But to where?
“You get a read on the license plate?” Ethan asked.
“It’s bogus.” The Nate responded, rolling his eyes at his game. Something stupid had just happened to make him die in the fantasy realm of Nerdia. “We still have access to the old MULES system, and this plate doesn’t, or at least didn’t, exist before the government went dark. It’s in a logical numerical sequence, though. I’d say this is truck number 155, batch or section 37, line Alpha… I could just be guessing though, but what else would flat white Government plates reading 155-37-A mean? It doesn’t spell anything like a personalized plate might.”
“It’s so new we don’t have it.” Ethan said under his breath, leaving the pigsty of a room quickly. Deputies were nearly done searching the vehicle, it was going quickly as prepared to be searched as the people were. They didn’t even blink at the invasion of privacy, something many survivors would become combative over no matter how many times they were reassured it was for the town’s protection, not theirs.
Sure enough they passed Go and were allowed to travel to the commercial district of town. Their first stop was Winzor’s Burgers in what used to be the Steak ‘N Shake. Ethan sat outside and watched them order before walking inside himself. He nodded to the cashier, who nodded back and added an iced tea to the order. The couple was seated at a table away from others, who were also sitting and watching. With neither apparently looking the part of survivalists Ethan took a seat at the table next to them and turned the chair to face the couple. They wore black utility uniforms, faded and slightly dirty, but still name brand stuff Ethan used to see in Army surplus stores. Expensive to say the least.
“Pardon the intrusion, but I couldn’t help but notice you’re new here. I’m Sheriff Cally.” He offered his hand, sitting on his chair backwards.
“We are new here. Is that a problem? Your sign outside reads ‘Visitors Welcome’.” The woman said, sipping her glass of water.
“Not at all. We welcome anyone here who isn’t trying to cause problems. We pride ourselves in the freedom we offer here. We’re a real Libertarian society. Live and Let Live and all that. I was just making conversation. Take it as you will, but it does help to remind people there’s still law and order here.”
The woman smiled, “You certainly don’t disappoint, Sheriff Cally.”
“I’m not sure what you’ve heard of me, but, I would like to take a moment say that probably only half of it is true. And also to ask to see some ID. I do reserve that right as Sheriff.” Ethan’s face was stone cold, but professionally pleasant to any passersby. The couple produced matching drivers licenses from Wyoming. “Right. These are dated 2017... That’s this year.”
“Very astute. You can read.” The man pulled out another leather wallet. It clanked on the table and unfolded to reveal a shiny silver badge and another ID that read Department of Homeland Security. “Now that you know who we are, I have some questions for you, Sheriff Cally.”
“Me first.”
“Fine.”
“Where?”
“Where what?”
“Has it all been? Where was the fallback point for The Most Historic President and his staff of loony liberals?” Ethan’s fingers went white knuckled around the table.
“Cheyenne, Wyoming. Just like in all those asteroid movies.” The woman smiled. For some reason it was dispassionate and kinda creepy. “Getting right along with it then, we’ll need to speak to your town’s government, assuming there still is one. We’re going to request you hear us out for an offer of repatriation of your town and state to the United States of America.”
Kenly didn’t particularly take the couple seriously, even after seeing their credentials he remained largely unimpressed. He played along with their serious tones, but they weren’t the first refugees to try this, or even the first people in his long career he’d seen stumble across a dead Law Enforcer’s ID and try to use it. Lee didn’t even bother to stop by the office to meet them. He wasn’t interested, Ethan supposed.
“Alright. Let’s say I hypothetically believe you. Give me the story, give me the sales pitch, and if I like it I’ll tell you how I feel about it.” The Mayor, less than a month from the November elections, lit a pipe instead of his signature cigar. Someone said it made him look more fatherly and he’d actually come to enjoy the gentler flavors.
The man took out a laptop from a suitcase. It was very futuristic looking, thinner than a tablet on both sides. The touch screen came to life with happy looking backgrounds and large bubble buttons that reminded Ethan of the millions of idiotic, virus-like internet CDs sent out by AOL when he was a kid. The display brought up a picture of the globe with pre-Apocalypse geopolitical boarders.
“This is the world as of 2012.” The man said. “Here we see the first documented outbreaks of the virus in Northern Mexico near the border crossing at Nogales.” The next slide showed the policing action to clean up the infection. “The next cases show up inside of a week in downtown Quebec, Canada, New York City, Washington DC, Chicago, and London. The outbreak should have been contained to Nogales where the virus was first reported, but it skipped borders, probably people on private planes or traveling with family. Given the behavior of the infection, though, we consider it unlikely any of the infections were large groups that made it across land.”
“So the first cases were really in Nogales? People go to Mexico for medical care because in the U.S. it was either too expensive or completely inferior, they stop by the local pharmacy and get sold a batch of bad crank… Gotta love Socialized Medicine.” Ethan guess
ed aloud. He was trying to provoke a response from the newcomers. People who believed in the stuttering, condescending tones of their most historic president were usually easy to goad into an argument. Question their beliefs or agenda and they became hostile and eventually resorted to name calling when they started to lose the argument. Do you know how to tell when you’ve won an argument with a Liberal? You can’t because you’re a racist and you hate women and babies and puppies.
The man and woman looked at each other for a moment, but didn’t answer the question. “Here,” The man went on, “We see the infections spread rapidly through these cities. After that, we have the plague spread to almost every city connected to an international airport. Countries like Iran and China do well in the beginning with a concentrated military effort, but are overrun in the end as unprotected civilian population centers fall. By April 2015 we see a complete collapse of all major military facilities on a global scale. The Federal Government, and what State Offices were able to escape, were gathered here at Cheyenne Mountain, Wyoming. We have been waiting for the Infected to become immobile before beginning recolonization efforts. We understand that being abandoned was not a perfect outcome, and that we have not been able to render aid until now. That is all most regrettable, but with the rapid pace of the Envier Virus we were unable to save everyone. The survival of our nation is of paramount importance to the President, I assure you.” Ethan didn’t say anything about it, but he knew from the news that the cities in which the virus first appeared were also the ones with the largest #Occupy Encampments. The earliest reports of the plague were thought to have been in protester camps when Social Security collapsed, millions of angry homeless demanding acting by occupying a government they rightly blamed. The bluntness of the explanation for abandoning people to the undead hordes did nothing to assure anyone of anything positive. If nothing else it said a great deal about the mentality of the Federal Administration.
“We have, thus far, been able to clear and settle much of the state of Wyoming. However, as I’m sure you already know, the infection spreads rapidly. Many Safe Zones and FEMA camps were overrun. We weren’t able to save nearly as many as the CDC had originally estimated, but so far more than twenty million people are living in the state.”
“Yeah, one minute they’re fine, the next it’s like they’re on PCP with a thirst for human blood.” Kenly let his chair, which had been leaning back on two legs, go forward with a thump, his gut rolling onto the table. He still wasn’t showing the couple the respect they thought they should be witnessing. “What do you know about them? The Infected I mean.”
“What do you know?”
“We’re but simple Ozark Mountain Folk. Please, indulge us.” Ethan said with as much sarcasm as he could muster while sounding somewhat polite. He was already relaxing with cup of black coffee, listening to the two agents spout their bullshit. The coffee wasn’t good, but then that was the point. Stay awake, stay angry.
“The infection’s origins are likely from some sort of biochemical agent that was either tested or spilled in Western Mexico. Its rapid spread was due in part to tourism and people fleeing the Nogales area, but we also think Iranian Fundamentalists attempting to cross the border might have been involved with the speed of infection.” The man tapped the next button on his laptop’s screen. “The good news is, Iran no longer exists. Neither does any semblance of a North Korea, China, Russia, Africa, or much of any other nation who could cause us problems. From what we can tell, the U.S., England, Japan and Australia seem to be the victors with over thirty percent of their citizens still alive in each country, with a functioning government.” The male agent bragged. Did these idiots not know about the Mexicans and Columbians?
“Boy oh boy, what would we ever do without Uncle Sam.” Kenly baited.
“When did you lose power?” The man asked.
“Not so long ago.” Ethan said before Kenly could come up with some elaborate lie. “There were people at the power plant, but they didn’t come here.”
“Gangs?” The woman asked.
“Gangs don’t operate power plants. We were hoping it was you.” Ethan’s practiced impassive expression was holding, selling the simplest lie. The first rule of siding with a rogue government against The Government is; You do not talk about Texas. The second rule is… YOU DO NOT TALK ABOUT TEXAS!
“No. We are investigating who it might have been. However, until the Spring, as a show of good faith, the Administration will be airdropping at your airfield a dozen industrial connexes. Inside will be newly developed solar energy cell generators. They won’t be able to heat every home, but you’ll have spare electricity for heat and cooking at communal shelters.” The man smiled. It seemed disingenuous, almost creepy. He would have been more convincing if he never smiled. He looked like a used car salesmen, minus the polyester leisure suit and tacky comb over. The kind of man who stood behind every car he sold, because if he stood in front, and the brakes failed, he’d be crushed.
The two newcomers went on to weave a tail of stupendous political rhetoric and bullshit that Kenly and Ethan barely felt obliged to follow. They spoke of laws passed and administrative programs that did this that or the other for such and such minority group, on and on and on as if any of it meant anything to their audience. They were trying to glamour their way into the imaginations of the people they met. Apparently the new government was the answer to everything, the President the infallible political messiah. Kenly offered the two “ambassadors” a room at a privately owned hotel and invited them to a meeting with the town’s Lieutenants and the newly formed, and mostly powerless, City Council. The agents politely refused and were gone before nightfall out the Japan/West Gate to parts unknown. Ethan suspected the people they posted along the route to Beaufort, and then on to Jefferson City, would log the SUV heading toward the state capital. He didn’t want to go back there, but it might be necessary before too long. What would they be doing in that direction? Who was there waiting for them?
“They didn’t mention Texas.” Lee said, stepping out from a supply closet that had been refitted to be a panic room in case of Zombies or Hostiles. After the two travelers had left the room he could finally breath, his nose stopped up from a mild cold. “You’d think knowing the most strategic state in the Union is still there would be good news.”
“If it was good news to them.”
“We can’t keep this a secret.” Ethan sighed. “When those generators come in people will praise the government for coming back for us.”
“There may be nothing we can do about that.” Kenly dumped the pipe tobacco and stuffed in pot nugs with a Colorado tax sticker on the bag. Lee obligingly closed the door and turned on an automatic air freshener. The public, and indeed most people, didn’t know it yet, but Aaron Kenly had prostate cancer. It was manageable, but only for so long. He might have another year and half at the outside and he was always in pain. The diagnosis had come down only a week before the first outbreaks. Knowing, at the time, that he only between six months and year to live he’d still stepped up the plate to lead the town and had even clung on to life for another three years, perhaps just to stick it to Death for as long as he could. “Did we ever stop to consider maybe the Texans are the ones who are lying? I don’t think they are, but it would be stupid not to consider it.” He said, letting smoke plume from his pipe.
“No.” Ethan said quickly, motioning for Kenly to puff-puff-pass. “But they’re playing this pretty close to the chest too.”
Kenly shrugged while Ethan coughed. “Aren’t you on duty?” Lee asked.
“It’s five o’clock somewhere.” Ethan responded between coughs.
“Well… as I see it we have two choices. We either do nothing and wait till spring and see if the U.S. and Texas fight it out over us… or, and I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently, we plant as much hemp and corn as we can in empty warehouses with UV lights over the winter… And then we’ll have our own fuel, indefinitely renewable and not subject to
shitty weather. We won’t need Texas, and we won’t need the U.S. We find a few more generators like the ones they’re supposedly sending in and we won’t need theirs either. We can just leave them in the connexes. And tell people the containers are filled with a candy corn. Nobody likes that shit.” Kenly started laughing. Just because he did his best thinking while stoned didn’t mean it was his clearest.
“You mean the Feds No Can Haz Cheeseburger?” Ethan smiled excitedly.
“Oh. I get it now… You’re a moron.” Kenly said as he blew a perfect smoke ring.
“I swear, sometimes I think you’re a genius, Sir. Other times I think you’re a liquored up old cop who smells like weed.” Lee shook his head. “I’ll start running the men through Counter Insurgency Drills. Ethan, I don’t mean to boss you around, but I’d appreciate it if this could be a joint operation under the Army’s command.”
“Only during training.” Ethan made sure the door was locked. He could see Allen, who’d recently returned to work full time, escorting the two travelers out of the station where he’d then follow them out of town. “The police have to remain separate from the military.”
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