by G. R. Carter
“I had no idea that many people survived up there,” Fredericks stammered. So many decisions were made by balancing out the common good against the individual. He carried the human cost of those decisions with him every day; their images visited his dreams some nights. Coming face to face with the aftermath was thankfully rare, but totally devastating.
“How many would have been enough for you to help!”
“I don’t know, Zack,” Fredericks replied. “The Jijis were massing all along the river. We were going to lose the bridge and then they would have gotten across. The river was the only thing that saved us.”
“Saved you, eh? There weren’t no ‘us,’ ya heartless bastard!”
Fredericks steeled himself. Regardless of his guilt, he still had a job to do. “All right, Zack, you got me. But you can still do the right thing and save other people, innocent people who don’t have any blood on their hands…not like mine. Will you do that? I’ve got to find out what’s coming next.”
Zack refused to answer.
“You have a right to hate me,” Fredericks said. “I would, too, if I were in your shoes. But the Jijis brought this hell on us. Tell me what they’re planning to do next. Help me stop them.”
“All da plans and schemes were in that man right there,” Zack said dejectedly and looked over at his uncle’s body. “All I know is dem crazy Jijis is gettin’ ready to come your way. The Caliphate had some special forces types workin’ with ‘em. Taught us how to sneak in here without you’s seein’ us.”
“To kill the Founder?”
“Not just him. As many as we could. All the leaders, so there weren’t no organized resistance when the Caliphate invaded…”
Chapter Two
Grand Shawnee Territory
Western Frontier Fortress
Former Tamms Prison Facility
Hungry and tired eyes looked at Liam Oliver as he stepped into the expansive four-story room. This was Mt. Horab’s new home, at least for a while. The Red Hawk Republic gave them this as a shelter, a place to regroup and rally. Here the injured could receive treatment from the best field medics, a place to reunite separated family members. They could stop running now, he’d been outside still when the first of the Red Hawk armored vehicles arrived outside of the fences. Even inside he could hear the engines of their attack planes slowly circling overhead, ready to pounce on any threat to their little band of refugees.
The Elect—Buckles, everyone else called them—were all gathered here, huddled for safety behind thick walls that once housed the worst of the worst that humanity had to offer. A “super max” prison, the United States once called it. Even the corrections officers seldom came into contact with the incarcerated here. It was built as a literal hell on earth. Rapists, murderers…the unredeemable were stored away here in mostly solitary confinement, allowing pre-Reset society to believe that monsters didn’t live among them. Oliver knew different before, and he for sure knew that now.
When the Reset hit, most prison guards just faded away, refusing to report into work. A good portion of the incarcerated simply died where they were trapped, either of dehydration or starvation. But a lot were “rescued” by those who had use for their lack of conscience. They became a blight on the countryside, roving bands of outlaws referred to by many as ditchers or rateaters. There were tens of thousands of prisoners here in Illinois when the Reset hit. Oliver looked up and down the identical cells facing out into the open commons, imagining where those housed here had disappeared to, what damage they had done before and after…
He’d faced plenty of near-death experiences, a few with monsters like the ones who were once caged here. None of that prepared him for what he’d just experienced on the river. Courage under the threat of death from combat was haunting him now. He could hear the violent rattling of weapons trying to annihilate him—he saw bodies floating in the water every time he closed his eyes. The darkness of the night battle, punctuated with the occasional explosion and burst of flames…he wasn’t a soldier, not really. He was just a river tug captain who got put into situations beyond his control.
He prayed, really prayed, that the emotional wounds would heal; after his first combat against river bandits it took two weeks for him to sleep a full four hours straight. But eventually sleep did come. Internal scars would form in his mind, just as they would from the leg wound he’d just had stitched up in the infirmary. That slice was deep, though he hadn’t even noticed it until they’d gotten here to the shelter. Adrenaline gave him the boost he needed to ignore the pain, to will his way through the last 72 hours with only one hour of sleep. His body began to beg to crash, to rid the poisons of body and mind by sleeping for hours or days.
But he couldn’t just disappear. He was supposed to be Captain Liam Oliver, a leader for a lost and hurting group of innocents.
He wasn’t ready for this. He could face the forces of nature, cantankerous crewmembers, even the guns of hostile men. But those hungry eyes…of frightened children confused about what had happened and wanting to go home…that was something the infamous Captain Liam Oliver was not capable of handling.
He wasn’t sure what to do, so he watched his new friend and countryman Levi Marshall. The large man’s red hair was like a streak of fire as he moved in and out of the crowd, handing out ration bars and cups of water. Each time he returned to the cafeteria window for another hand full. Oliver watched him approach the child who had been staring at him. He whispered something to the mother, handed them the ration bars, then patted the shoulder of the child gently with the hard hands he had just used to fight their enemy.
Levi caught his stare and walked over to him. “Glad to see the docs released you, Captain.” He read the nervous look on his comrade’s face. “Don’t worry, I don’t know what I’m doing either. I just needed to stay busy, take my mind off what’s going on outside.”
“That’s where I feel like we need to be, though, Levi. Not cooped up in here. We should be out there, fighting ARK.”
“The Red Hawks say there is no fighting right now. ARK’s still on the west bank of the river, they haven’t tried to get across the bridges.” Levi sighed. “Don’t guess they could get across even if they wanted. Lord have mercy, those Red Hawks have a lot of fighting vehicles. I can’t believe that’s just what they had local, they must have hundreds of them stashed around their lands.”
Oliver fired up. “Then let’s go back. Let’s counterattack. Maybe there’s still time to save Mt. Horab, save some of the folks there.”
Levi frowned and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Captain. I don’t like to admit it either, but what’s done is done. Losing more Buckles on some failed attempt to retake our city won’t bring our dead back to life. The ones in this shelter right now…they’re all that’s left of Mt. Horab. And Captain, they need our help just as much as ARK needs our vengeance.”
Oliver deflated. He thought about arguing, but Marshall was right. He finally nodded somberly. Every Buckle seemed to have the same outlook on life, never forgetting the past but never dwelling on it either. Frankly, it was a little disconcerting to the old river rat, but also strangely comforting.
“Okay, we’ll try it your way. What should I do?”
“We’ve been trying to get a handle on how many survivors we have on site. Right now we’ve counted a little short of 1500. We need to make sure they all get a place to sleep and something to eat,” Levi replied. He stopped and looked at Oliver. “The Founder of the Republic—you met Alex Hamilton, right? He got a message to us: he wants you and me to lead our people for the time being. You up for the challenge?”
Oliver was confused. “What do you mean? What about Elector Huffman, or John Bolin? Any of the Electors…why us?”
“They’re all gone, Captain. Near as I can tell we’re the highest-ranking folks accounted for.”
“How’s that possible? Didn’t they evacuate?”
“Maybe you didn’t understand. There’s only 1500 survivors out of everybody in
Mt. Horab. I’m sure we’ll find a few more straggling in, but do you really think the Electors would have left the city while people were still evacuating? I know for sure Elector Huffman and Elector Bolin were still fighting when the city went up in flames. Their last stand is what saved most of the folks here.”
“The city?”
Levi just shook his head.
Oliver was crushed. He hadn’t been a citizen of Mt. Horab very long. It hadn’t taken long for him to develop a deep affection for the city leaders. Now, they were gone before he had gotten to spend significant time with either.
Levi seemed to understand Oliver’s thoughts. “We still have the people, Captain. That’s why we fought, that’s why the Electors fought: to save the people. Let’s make their sacrifice worth it, okay?”
Oliver gave Levi a quick nod, and Levi patted him on the shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, Founder Hamilton has promised that the Red Hawks are going to make sure no one ever attacks us again. He actually apologized for not stepping in sooner. Can you imagine? The Republic apologizing to our little group for not helping against ARK. They were allies before, but I guess not anymore. He went further, he even promised us we’d have our own place to live again. A good place, with plenty of farming and good water for us river rats.”
Levi’s face turned sterner. “I wouldn’t want to cross that man right now. The Founder, I mean. His sister was the one who shot down those ARK airships over Mt. Horab. Did you know that? She was Elector Bolin’s fiancée. She was going to live in our city after they got married. She was a pilot…must have been a good one. Going up at night against those infernal death machines. Anyway, rumor has it no one’s heard from her since. Imagine what Mr. Hamilton will do to ARK for that.”
Oliver felt ashamed for feeling a little better. The helplessness of facing such an overwhelming force as ARK ate at his ego. He wanted to punch back, even if that meant facing overwhelming odds again. He could have beaten them out on the river, but in the end ARK just had too many boats and men. With the Red Hawks now firmly at their backs, not just supplying them but actually fighting on their side, he could lead the Buckles back across the river, take the fight to those mobster murderers.
Then the gravity of what Levi had said started to set in. Alex Hamilton had asked them to personally look after the survivors. To take the place of Huffman, Bolin and the rest. The same sense of helplessness was back, like when he met eyes with those children. He could run a boat, maybe even a small ragtag fleet, but a nation? Especially a nation built around a religion he was still striving to understand.
“We’ll work on it together, Captain,” Levi said. “You were sent to us for a reason. He’s got a plan for you.”
“The Founder?” Oliver asked.
Levi looked confused. Then he started laughing and clapped his hands. “No Captain, not the Founder. Well, I suppose he does too, but I’m talking about someone a lot higher up the command structure. The founder of everything, not just a powerful nation.”
Oliver smiled back and nodded. “Okay, I got it.”
“Great. We’ve got some very worried folks out here. Let’s see about helping them.”
Chapter Three
Red Hawk Republic Capitol Building
Shelbyville
Rebekah Hamilton felt someone shake her shoulder, firm yet gentle, urging her to wake from the first sleep she’d enjoyed in 48 hours.
“Mrs. Hamilton, it’s me. Sorry to disturb you, but you insisted we wake you with important news.”
Rebekah’s eyes opened slowly, painfully and unwilling. Even the dim light emitted from the office wall lamps gave her a headache, made worse by remembering what the world looked like outside her safe place. Her dreams brought her terror and danger, not rest. Physical danger to herself wasn’t the cause of her agony, but the images of shadowy figures trying to kill her family. Her nightmares wouldn’t let her protect anyone, yet she was forced to watch the action unfold in desperate third person point of view.
“Do you want me to let you get back to sleep?” asked Alvarez.
Rebekah argued with herself. The urge to close her eyes fought with the longing to do something in the conscious world to satisfy the demons haunting the unconscious.
“No, I’m up. Thank you, Simone,” Rebekah replied. The young woman was a personal Silver Shield of the Hamilton household; a niece of Ruth Alvarez, herself one of Julia Ruff’s trusted assistants dating back even before the Reset. Simone and her comrades had suffered heavy losses keeping the Hamilton family and their entourage safe during the Mt. Vernon attacks.
In an agrarian society notoriously suspicious of perceived elitism, the irony was you didn’t become a Silver Shield without family lineage proving absolute loyalty to the Republic. Anyone serving in the most elite squadron of the Republic’s Self Defense Cooperative came from the original Okaw Valley Cooperative or Old Main, with the rare exception being an American soldier personally vouched for by Martin Fredericks.
Losses to a close-knit group like that weighed heavily on everyone, especially those whose lives were spared by the sacrifices of others.
“Simone,” Rebekah called out. “I just want to say thanks again. I won’t forget what you’ve done for my family…what everyone did for my family.”
“I think I can speak for everyone, Mrs. Hamilton, we’d all do it again without a moment’s hesitation,” Alvarez replied.
“Even those who can’t speak for themselves anymore?” Rebekah asked.
Simone faltered briefly. She had been engaged to be married to one of the young men who had been lost the night before; a crossbow bolt found space just above his armored vest to pierce an artery and leave him dead before medics could even attempt to save him. Unlike most elite coed units, fraternizing wasn’t frowned upon among the Silver Shields. In fact, several marriages had already occurred, some needing to take place a little quicker than their Bishops would have preferred. Young, athletic people working together in stressful situations for days, weeks or even months at a time, away from the watchful eyes of parents, led to temptation. Regardless, they were honorable young people, dedicated to the duty of keeping their leaders alive in a still very dangerous world.
Simone gathered herself, focusing on her leader. “Owen would have been the first to say it, ma’am. He was hardcore, totally dedicated to you and to the Republic. Silver Shields ask simply to live with honor, and if necessary to die with honor. Saving the Founder’s life qualifies, I hope.”
Rebekah grasped Alvarez’s arm. “That surely does qualify. And it qualifies him for burial in the Inner Circles, I guarantee that.”
“Thank you, ma’am, such an honor will provide some comfort to his family…” her face tensed as she fought back emotion, “…and me.”
Rebekah gave the woman a moment to gather herself, while she scratched the ears of her Guardian dog. Pawnee remained at attention the entire time her master had been asleep. Simone had only been able to approach because the dog knew her well. Even then, Pawnee had kept her eyes locked on the approaching woman the entire time; the Guardian breed was famous for loyalty as big as the massive heart held in its broad chest. Rebekah patted the dog one last time and gained her feet.
Without another word Simone turned and led Rebekah towards the best-lit room in the entire capitol building. The former county courthouse had been wired and rewired countless times over the century and a half since its construction. Electricity provided by the new hydro dam and supplemented by generators had made artificial light a common sight around the Republic’s capital city. Every bulb, some salvaged and some produced in local factories, burned bright tonight, matching an intense buzz spilling out of the Founder’s Hall, the historic room housing the first meetings of the Okaw Valley Self Defense Cooperative.
People moved with purpose in and out of the wooden doorway, long ago widened to accommodate the traffic passing through each day. Each wore a similar uniform; the Republic’s traditional button-up shirt tucked in over trou
sers bloused out over laced-up calf-high boots. Some were cut from dark gray cloth, others were field fatigues in a unique “cornfield camo” design of dark green, gray and tan interspersed in ragged oblong blotches. Most wore a hat, different types but sharing the bright red hawk symbol, while two stationary figures on either side of the door wore steel helmets. Both of those men cradled loaded weapons across their chests, the new kind being produced in Republic workshops.
Noise echoed off the stone walls, intensifying as Rebekah stepped past the threshold. A young messenger intent on his mission bumped into her and looked up with irritation. He immediately recognized the most powerful woman in his known world, sending his young face pale. In the shallow world before the Reset, Rebekah Hamilton’s physical appearance had led people to assume she was a model, or perhaps a star with her own voyeuristic internet livestream. She spent a good portion of her early life resentful of the attention, longing instead to be recognized for attributes she had spent countless hours cultivating through hard work: athletics, music, mathematics, history, psychology—all disciplines that fell to her determination to prove she was more than her looks.
She was the mother of four now and a ruler in a difficult world that aged people much quicker than the previous, yet most men still had to force themselves not to look twice at her natural beauty. Young men in particular got tongue-tied and clammy in her presence, still unable to appreciate female intelligence and wit that grew deeper roots as time passed.
Seeing this obvious embarrassment mixed with the almost religious reverence the younger generation held for the Founding Family, Rebekah feared the junior officer might have a heart attack then and there. She put her own discomfort with the attention aside. With a simple smile, she eased his fears of having given offence. He lowered his face and bowed slightly—people seemed to do that more and more, despite the Hamiltons’ objections—then scurried off. Her smile disappeared as she looked in at the organized chaos swirling in front of her.