by G. R. Carter
Lewis raised an eyebrow, imperceptible to anyone else but the two of them.
Marduk took the paper back from Lewis, folded it and put it in her pocket. “Very well, Lieutenant. Give me fifteen minutes to throw a bag together and I’ll be ready.” She turned to Lewis. “Captain, what about you?”
“We always have a Go Bag ready, Warden,” he replied. “But I’ll want to confer with the Sergeant for a few moments.”
“Take the time you need. We’ll get on the road when you’re comfortable everything is in place,” she said formally. “In the meantime, Lieutenant, you and your team can make yourselves at home in our CO break room.”
The group split and Lewis grabbed Morton by the arm, leading them into the warden’s executive conference room.
Morton flinched at Lewis’ grasp; no guard liked being touched by anyone inside the walls. Lewis realized the breach of shared protocol. “Sorry, Red. Just a little nervous.”
“It’s okay, Pete. What’s got you shook?” Morton was nervous now, too. Lewis was Mr. Cool, usually wearing an impassive mask. “And who issued the orders for you to go there?”
Lewis looked at him with a mixture of surprise and irritation. “What's got me shook? I don't know, maybe the National Guard showing up to take me and Marduk for some secret meeting? The electricity being out for God knows how long? The whole thing…”
Morton didn’t answer. He’d been thinking along the same lines, but nothing had ever seemed to bother Lewis. He also noticed Lewis didn’t answer the question about who gave the orders.
The captain continued. “I want you to get that scratch list ready, the one we sketched up in the conference room.” He handed Morton some folded papers. “I’m not saying to complete the list yet. But I want you to move them all to the holding pens. Put some space between them and gen pop. We won’t be getting any new fish for a while, so let’s use that area.”
Lewis looked around and lowered his voice. “Double the dose of Syn this morning, then again this afternoon. Triple it if you need it to get the scratch list moved and secured.”
That was too much for Morton. “Come on, Pete. You know the kind of withdrawals they’ll go through coming back down from a triple dose? We’ve been working to get the perfect dosage, and that’ll screw them up for a month.”
Lewis’ hands clenched, his lips curled over his teeth. “Red, dammit, just do what I tell you to do! Marduk can brag all she wants to about that New-Age religion of hers keeping this place calm, but you and I both know it’s because we keep them drugged. If a little is good for everyday use, I’d say a little more is necessary in emergency.”
His breathing calmed and he patted his old colleague on the shoulder. “I’m sorry—seems like I’m apologizing a lot to you lately. Anyway, have your Rapid Response Team on standby. You’ve only got a handful of Eels in here you can really trust, give them rifles out of the armory if you need to.” He took a deep breath and tried to conjure his politician look. “All I’m saying is to put the Zoo to sleep for the night while Marduk and I are away. We’ll be back tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll have a better plan after that. Okay?”
Morton nodded. Lewis was right; putting the inmates into an effective coma while leadership was gone was probably the smart thing to do. And he had plenty of Syn to hand out after the large delivery from the Kaplans. If only he had that much fuel…
“Wait, Pete,” Morton said suddenly. “The FS station was only able to give me enough fuel for one more day. They’re telling me I’ll have to come back every day to get the next load. That means we’ll have to do the scratch list transfer this afternoon, before the evening Syn handout. I can’t do it after we drug them, and I won’t have time in the morning.”
Lewis seemed troubled by the thought. “I guess you’re right. Your only other option is to wait to give the scratch list their Syn until you get them moved.”
“That’s a little dangerous.”
Lewis nodded, then remembered something else in his pocket. “I took the liberty of making the scratch list for the guards. I knew you were struggling with it, so I did it for you. It’s out of your hands now. How about you have them be the ones who take care of sorting this out for you tonight? If they screw up, we’ve got an immediate excuse. No sense in putting our A-team in danger.” He stopped and pointed his finger. “And that means you, too. I know you’ll want to oversee the move, but you do it from behind glass, understood? That’s a direct order, Red, do you understand?”
Morton nodded without looking Lewis in the eye. Worry crept into his very bones. Something felt overwhelmingly wrong; a hole in his gut was able to overcome his usual numbness. The old maximum-security guard instincts, dulled by years of calm, flashed warning signs.
“I know what you’re thinking Red. I can see it in your face…I feel it, too,” Lewis said.
Red looked at him with a mixture of surprise and skepticism. Lewis flashed a small, tired grin. “I’m not completely management, you know. I did come up through the ranks, I know how to spot potential trouble.”
Correctional Officer Peter Lewis had been a first-class hardass back in the day. The young Eels heard stories of Lewis single-handedly breaking up a riot between gangs. The legend had Lewis putting three of the inmates into the infirmary by the time it was over. Morton knew the truth of it—the count would have been four if that one had survived. Morton himself helped cover up the death, self-defense and justifiable to the COU, but frowned upon, and a blackmark on a young guard’s career in the era of state oversight. Morton hadn’t lost a second’s sleep over it, even when Lewis used his newfound respect to rocket past all of them on his way to senior leadership.
“Okay, Pete, I hear you. We’ll be extra careful. But you better be careful, too. Who knows what’ll be happening out there on those roads?”
Lewis’ face creased in a sad grin; a look of the brotherhood forged by years walking the blocks. He turned crisply and Morton watched him walk away, suddenly feeling very alone. He’d never aspired to be in charge, not like Lewis or any number of other officers in the COU. He just wanted to do his job and go home…
There was no other place left to go to, though, this was his home now. He looked around at the concrete and steel and safety glass, inmates and Eels in drab-colored clothes, artificial light mixed with a just a little bit of natural from the skylights above. At least here he was a somebody, not like the little three-bedroom ranch sitting locked up and empty of anyone to care for it. He should have sold it; he’d had interest from some of the younger Eels. The extra money from renting it might have been nice, too, but he didn’t need to buy anything else. Instead it stood as a memorial to a life once loved.
“Sarge, you got a second?”
Morton looked up, McCoy was standing in beside him; he hadn’t even heard the man’s size-eleven boots approaching. He gritted his teeth to shake off the memories and nodded. “Sure, McCoy, what can I help you with?”
“I was wondering if I could ask your opinion on the health insurance forms? With the new contract, I want to make sure the kids are covered right. Sherry’s been asking me to get that done—she’s always worried about that kind of stuff.”
Morton sighed and worked up an understanding smile. His son and wife were gone, but his adopted sons and daughters, his COU family, still needed his help. That at least was something.
Urbana
The Fourth Day
“You can’t order me around that way! I don't know who you think you are, but you have absolutely zero authority to force this city to do what you want!”
Mayor Gabrielle Rosenberg – who was accustomed to being treated with respect – looked like a tomato perched upon a small body, bright red and ready to burst. She cared not one whit that the man sitting behind the metal desk was wearing a uniform and carrying a weapon. No one bossed her around, especially not some weekend warrior who probably thought women were better suited as camp followers and not elected officials.
Colonel Darian T. Walsh’
s impassive face looked back at her. His career saw interaction with many civilians who not only didn’t respect the gray urban camouflage uniform he wore, but who frankly despised it. Since the Reboot began years ago, more and more citizens considered the military a liability. The only men and women left serving were those whose belief in a greater good could withstand the total lack of status they suffered in the world outside.
Colonel Walsh ran a tight ship, infamous for discipline rare in the current military. His soldiers either loved him for that, or quickly washed out to more passive roles as they finished out their commitments. The service men and women under Walsh’s command here were some of the few left who stilled believed in what they’d once signed up for.
Since the country started abandoning its bases around the world, there was need for fewer and fewer personnel, and there was little recruiting going on to replenish the ranks. Units simply merged, regardless of branch, and consolidated equipment in bases such as the one he was in now.
Domestic bases fared little better than the ones overseas. Walsh’s base was left alone because the current congressman from this district had some pull over the base closure list. There was still enough economic benefit to a military facility to fight to keep it open. But once the wheeler-and-dealer left office for a lucrative lobbying gig, Walsh had no doubt all personnel and equipment here would rotate to a much larger city with a politician who mattered more.
That point was probably moot, now. All communications with the capital and the Pentagon had ceased. In fact, all communications everywhere ceased. His coffee pot and refrigerator still worked, but that was about it. Strangely, all of his newest vehicles quit working as soon as the computers inside were accessed. The oldest of the supplies trucks still ran, and some of the older model Humvees. However, the few pieces of modern heavy equipment he pulled so many strings to get sat like stones in the ready yard.
His last emergency flash communication was to prepare for civil unrest. No reason why, and no guidance as to what to do about it. Did the Solar Storms finally overwhelm the defensive structure that the geeks built? Terror attack? Or cyber–attack? He had no idea. But he was left here with 500 soldiers and their dependents, plus an increasingly irritated civilian population of almost 50,000 residents and students from the large public university located just across town.
Walsh waited patiently for a couple of days for the power to come back on. Temporary shutdowns happened frequently, as the Grapevine Network defended itself against the intermittent Solar Storms that continued to bombard the planet. But each time the hum and purr of the servers and electrical engines would start up as Grapevine woke their modern world from a quick nap.
So they waited…and waited. Desperation on the campus and among townies set in by the second night, as electronics junkies became desperate without their fix. Then the real junkies got irritable without a supply of whatever their drug happened to be.
During his overseas deployments, back when America had those, Walsh witnessed firsthand the lengths people went to in securing needs of the flesh. If those people were parents, all bets were off. Civilized and pampered Americans never really knew hunger. Even the poorest neighborhoods here were still lives of luxury compared to Third World slums. He wondered how long things might hold together if his countrymen had to face real hardship.
Instinctively, Colonel Walsh knew that if the power didn’t come back on immediately, the damage would be irreparable. His base was fine; they had enough food for at least two years between canned supplies and MREs that were a part of any rapid deployment force’s inventory. Fortunately, water wouldn’t be a problem; even if water pressure dropped from the city mains, there was a well on site for disaster situations.
But the thought of 500 soldiers holding off 50,000 desperate starving zombie citizens chilled even his hardened backbone. Those people would figure out soon enough where a meal might be, and desperate people did desperate things.
How his world had changed! In years past his concern would have been for the mission of those soldiers, which was to safeguard the local community. Was he surprised he only worried about the safety of his subordinates? He found himself looking at the surrounding community as a threat to be guarded against.
Which is precisely why I called the esteemed mayor and her merry band of idiots on the city council to meet with me. He needed to get a gauge on where their minds were. Did they know what his supply situation was on base? Did they intend to make demands of him? His inner circle shared his concerns; they’d spent most of the previous night war gaming different scenarios. Their only disagreement had been inviting the civilians on base, concerned they might get a look at their assets. Their concerns were valid, but the colonel felt that the reward outweighed the risk - best to have these strutting peacocks on his territory, not theirs.
For a brief moment, the colonel was surprised that none of his men objected that they wouldn’t be helping the townspeople. He figured there would be at least one who demanded they fulfill their oath. But nearly all of these soldiers had family here on base with them and their only real friends were fellow service members. Considering the treatment soldiers received over the last few years, there was little surprise in their priorities or loyalties. He knew they’d follow his orders as long as that didn’t put their loved ones in senseless danger. They trusted him to come up with a plan to survive, just like he had in so many other places around the world. Their trust would be rewarded, he had no intention of sacrificing their lives, or supplies, for these moron politicians or anyone foolish enough to elect them.
Still the mayor glared at him, waiting for his reply. She’d have it soon enough. He intended to give everyone in town a choice, one likely to be the difference between life and death. Not by his hand, but by nature’s hand. After all, evolution ensured survival of the fittest, right? He’d learned on his tours only the strong survived. Bleeding-heart religious types might feel the need to run around handing out their hard-earned food and treasure to the lazy, but his experience taught him better.
His wife and kids still tried to get him into the church thing, but outside of Christmas it was a losing game. He played along that one day a year simply for her sake. But the hypocrisy of it all was too much for him to take on a weekly basis. A loving God? Yeah right. Not with the misery I’ve seen in my career. If there was a God, and he highly doubted it, he’d cut humans loose long ago.
Humanity was on their own, especially now.
All the modern electronic “miracles” were sitting there like paperweights. Not that there was much paper to be found. Everything had to be electronic, and finding a piece of scratch paper was like finding a lottery ticket. Except those didn’t exist anymore either, now random people were selected for extra dollar credits on their SmartWatch.
I wonder if the mayor used her SmartWatch to get her food ration. Doubt it, I’m guessing she’s a “do as I say, not as I do” kind of person. Probably got a personal supply of the good stuff stashed. Now where would that food be stored? Maybe he could finally find out. But first he would defuse her anger from that last outburst.
“Madame Mayor, I do apologize if I sounded rude, we’re all under a lot of stress. In the military, sometimes we are a little too blunt with one another. I apologize if I overstepped my bounds,” the colonel said. He put on his best apologetic look of concern. His second-in-command was the only one to witness him practicing that look in the mirror. The expression was a way of disarming higher ranks when he needed something for his command.
The mayor softened a bit.
The colonel continued, “I was merely concerned about the safety of the students on campus because food supplies have to be getting dangerously low there. I just thought that with the help of the police, we could secure the food supplies and get them in one central location. Perhaps with a combined team of troops from my command and officers from the police department?
“We both know what will happen if common citizens have access to limited fo
od supplies. Chaos will ensue, and the people will think that the city has lost control of the situation. I just thought this would be a good opportunity to show the entire city our civilian authorities had a good plan. That the situation was under control.
“And you know the sight of my big trucks with food stacked up would give peace to some who would worry about where their next meal would come from. Wouldn’t that be a great way to show everyone you are firmly in control of this crisis?” The colonel had to keep from gagging. His second was probably doing his best to keep from busting out laughing.
He once gave nearly the same speech to a Somali warlord who was hoarding a UN food supply to control his local population. Walsh convinced the warlord to show everyone how he made the Americans follow his orders by transporting the food for him. Walsh promised this would give the warlord credibility with his people by pushing around the Great Satan. By the time he realized the Americans were driving away with it all, he was almost dead from a crazed mob of hungry villagers.
Those who wish to lead for their own sake are much the same. No matter continent, education or background, they can all be controlled by the same methods, Walsh reminded himself.
Aloud, he went for the close: “Of course, all actions will be under your authority. And I promise I will be on site myself. I will have to give the direct orders to my troops, chain of command is important to my soldiers. But I will honor your wishes in logistics and security.”
The mayor recognized the opportunity presented in Walsh’s offer. The Feds would have the power back on any second, just like they always did. And when it came back on, she would have a great story to tell her higher-ups. Not only did she save the students on campus, but she successfully brought an Army colonel to heel. There was probably a job with her name on it in the capital after pulling this off.
“When would you suggest we do this, Colonel? How much time do you need to prepare?” the Mayor asked.