The Long Night Box Set

by Kevin Partner

Applause broke out around them and Nathan staggered a little from the force of the palms thumping on his back. He felt as though he were in some sort of a dream as images of the long trek back to friendly territory flooded his mind. Of their pursuit by Arizonan forces, alerted by the treachery of Wozniak. Of the moment when McKenzie fell in an ambush that Nathan and Jake had escaped by the skin of their teeth. If there was a God, he had been with them that day, though Nathan couldn't imagine what McKenzie had done to be abandoned to his fate. After a week of scrambling through the wilderness, they'd finally found friendly troops and had been taken to meet the president immediately. And then the war had begun.

  The North Koreans had declared their hand by taking San Diego and making that their base of operations. They'd then secured a swath of land to the east, heading toward Arizona, and the soldiers Nathan had encountered at the gas station were the farthest advanced of their units. When they realized that their secret would be revealed if Nathan made it back to TLX territory, they had accelerated their plans and drawn troops up to repel any attack.

  The role of Arizona in all this had been revealed by Wozniak—the leadership in Phoenix had, through intimidation or bribery, been converted to the North Korean cause. The plan, it seemed, had been for Wozniak to return to Phoenix with the evidence on Nathan's camera, claiming that the TLX soldiers had died at the hands of the North Koreans. The hope was that this would force the TLX to withdraw from Arizona to prepare for war—giving the North Koreans time to bring in reinforcements across the Pacific.

  By exposing their treachery, Nathan had precipitated war, but against an enemy that was weaker than it would be in the coming months.

  He snapped out of these thoughts as applause rang out again. Jake pushed against his shoulder and Nathan realized it was time for them to line up on the stage to receive their medals. He followed the man to his right—a soldier he didn't know who was also being decorated—and walked up the steps, looking out over the faces gazing up at them. Hundreds were here, and multiple cameras moved on the stage and among the crowd to record the event. Live broadcast television hadn't yet been reestablished, but these films would be kept as a record and played in theaters across the new nation as electricity spread wider.

  The president began moving along the line as an announcer introduced each man.

  "Sergeant Nathan Woods, for extreme gallantry in the service of his nation, the Distinguished Service Cross."

  President Murphy appeared in front of Woods, took the medal from an aide, and pinned it to Woods's breast. They exchanged salutes.

  "Well done, soldier. You're a credit to our fine nation," Murphy said, before leaning in as applause shook the room. "Don't let it go to your head though, son."

  "Thank you, Mr. President," Nathan said as the shadow moved on to Jake where it was forced to wait for the noise to quieten enough for Jake's citation to be made.

  Jake had said that Nathan had become something of a national hero once word of their trek across the desert had spread, liberally embellished as it did so. Woods himself hadn't believed it, but, after a couple of days recuperating, he'd been kept constantly busy on missions that, it seemed to him, were becoming progressively more dangerous.

  But there was no denying it: he'd gotten far more applause than anyone else here, even the president. And if he knew anything about Murphy, it was that he didn't like sharing the spotlight.

  Colonel Martinez looked up at Nathan as he stood at attention. "Congratulations on your decoration, Sergeant," he said. "You come highly recommended, but all new members of my team begin with a clean slate. Is that clear?"

  "Yes sir," Woods said, hoping that the meaning behind the colonel's words would become apparent at some point. He and Jake had received their new orders on the day of the award ceremony and now, forty-eight hours later, he was at a forward base a few miles from the front line of this phony war.

  The colonel leaned back in his chair and considered Nathan, before speaking in a barely audible mumble, his lips hardly moving. "What you and Masters did saved our bacon. Without that intelligence, the Kims would have had time to build up their forces unmolested, and we'd have found out far too late. I want you to know that. Nod if you understand."

  Nathan gave a curt nod, wondering what on Earth was going on.

  "I am obliged by the chain of command to give you these orders," he continued in the same low register.

  Martinez sat forward, as if a switch had been flipped, and his voice was now clear, strong and commanding. "Since you have proven yourself adept at operating in enemy territory and returning with valuable intelligence, you are being assigned to a small team. Your mission is to proceed to San Diego, report on the enemy's disposition and disrupt it to the best of your ability. You discovered the enemy, Sergeant. Now you will tell us how strong he is."

  So, that was it. Nathan looked into the colonel's eyes and saw the regret and sadness there. He was just following orders. It said everything about the oppressive nature of the regime now in charge that a decorated officer such as Martinez felt powerless. The genius of the plan was that it made perfect sense. Someone had to take a look at the enemy, why not the man who'd already outwitted them once?

  Nathan came to attention and saluted. "Yes sir," he said.

  "Good man," Martinez said. "We will do what we can to prepare you."

  "May I ask a question, sir?"

  Martinez nodded.

  "Am I to go alone or is Private Masters coming with me?"

  "Masters will remain here. My orders related only to you." Again, Woods looked into the colonel's eyes and saw a man in conflict with his own sense of justice. Command knew that Nathan and Jake were connected by a bond of, at the very least, friendship. So they would keep Jake here as, effectively, a hostage to ensure that Nathan returned, if he could.

  "You are dismissed, Sergeant. I wish you Godspeed."

  Nathan saluted again, turned on the spot and left the room.

  "They probably just think I'd slow you down, sarge," Jake said as he and Nathan sat in the mess hall that night.

  "We're off the clock, Jake, so call me Nate. But I'm pretty sure I know what's going on here. And keep your voice down."

  Jake snorted. "Why? D'you think we might be overheard?"

  "Exactly, and it's no laughing matter."

  "Come off it, Nate. You're paranoid. Why would they do that?" Jake said, though he did lower his voice.

  Nathan shook his head. "I can't say too much here, but don't you think it's odd that I'm being sent on a suicide mission and you're being held here? I think maybe our glorious leader feels a bit threatened by my status as a national hero."

  "You're crazy! Why would the president be like that? He just gave you a medal!"

  "Quiet!" Nathan hissed. "Maybe you're right and I'm just a paranoid freak, but the fact remains that I'll be away for a while and there's every chance I won't come back. I promised your mother I'd look after you, but I'm ordered not to take you and, in any case, you'd only be walking into more danger with me."

  Jake shrugged. "Don't worry about me. As for Mom, she made her choice when she deserted the TLX, taking the president's son with her."

  "She did it to save your sister."

  "No, Maddie had her duty and she ran away from it. I'm lucky I haven't been thrown into jail for my family's disloyalty."

  Nathan tried to wrap his mind around this new side to Jake. The boy had barely spoken about his mother since he'd joined the Army, but he certainly seemed to have believed the propaganda message regarding the “abduction” of the president's son. Perhaps it was a subconscious defense mechanism. Whatever it was, Nathan didn't like it. But, whatever he thought of the boy's beliefs, he'd made a commitment to looking after him to the best of his ability, and returning alive from the mission was the only way he could do that.

  The problem was, he couldn't see any way that could be achieved.

  There was a woman sitting on his bed when he got back to his room. She stood as he entered
and saluted.

  "Corporal Pak Su-Mi," she said.

  She was a slim young woman wearing National Guard fatigues.

  Woods returned the salute. "What are you doing here, Corporal?"

  "Please, shut the door, Sergeant."

  Not taking his eyes off her, Nathan swung the door shut and stepped back a little to increase the space between them.

  "I have swept the room and I do not believe we can be overheard," she said.

  "Answer my question, Corporal. Why are you in my room?"

  She drew in a deep breath as if preparing to deliver a rehearsed statement. "I have been assigned to your mission to NK Occupied San Diego, Sergeant."

  "Colonel Martinez said I was to go alone."

  She shook her head. "Respectfully, the colonel's orders were to send you and not Private Masters or any other member of the TLX military."

  "And?" Nathan was all at sea now. "You said you are a corporal and you're wearing an army uniform."

  Her mouth bent into a shy smile. "Both are true, but I am not enlisted in the TLX forces."

  "Which army do you belong to?"

  "The Arizona National Guard."

  "You're the enemy!" Nathan said, suddenly fearing a trap.

  She shook her head again. "No, Sergeant. I am a defector."

  "But you're Korean!"

  "Yes, I was born in Kim Jong-Un's glorious communist republic, but I escaped when serving as a guard for one of our ambassadors. My parents were sent to a detention center and I never heard from them again. You can see, therefore, that I do not welcome North Korean forces in my new country. I will help you to succeed in your mission."

  Nathan felt his whole body relax just a little. So, the colonel was on his side, and risking a lot to give Nathan a fighting chance. He'd have known perfectly well that while he was obeying the letter of the orders, his superiors would look poorly on his actions if they ever came to light.

  For the first time since he'd been given this suicide mission, Nathan Woods saw a glimmer of hope.

  "What's so funny?"

  Nathan pointed at the sign. "Welcome to Tombstone, Arizona," he said. "It just tickled me. A certain poetic irony to it. What? You reckon just because I'm a grunt I'm not capable of thinking about anything more than when I can eat next? I'm quite a sophisticated man."

  Su-Mi crinkled her nose in a way that Woods knew, from their brief time together, indicated amused disbelief.

  "Well, anyway, we've done well today. I suggest we find somewhere here to hunker down for the night."

  "Yes, sarge. Sounds good. My legs feel as though they've worn down to the knees."

  Woods gave a weary grunt. "But don't call me sarge," he said. "We really do have to get out of the habit."

  "Sorry…Nate."

  They'd not seen a living soul in Tombstone. It was south of where the invading forces were massed, but close enough that any remaining inhabitants had chosen to abandon it. Nathan and Su-Mi had passed a handful of these refugees heading east toward New Mexico.

  He felt incredibly exposed in his civvies, though he welcomed the reassuring weight of the Glock in its shoulder holster. Su-Mi was similarly dressed, though she had a North Korean uniform hidden in her pack. For the first part of their journey, they were masquerading as a husband and wife fleeing the war zone. Once they got close to San Diego, they would swap roles, with Su-Mi becoming an NCO in the KPA escorting a prisoner.

  For now, however, they had many days of trudging through the landscape ahead of them until, hopefully, they would be far enough behind the battle line that they could risk using a car without attracting unwelcome attention.

  The sun was setting in a pink sky as they turned off the main road and into a motel parking lot. It was a row of single story rooms with metal seats outside and it was obvious that all of them had been occupied at some point since the Long Night. Nathan found the cleanest and, between them, they gathered all the junk and piled it at the end of the row. The room had two single beds, but the bed linen was filthy, so they stripped it off and unrolled their sleeping bags onto the mattresses.

  Nathan set up his camping stove and ripped open two ration packs of chicken stew. Su-Mi was on her hands and knees examining the floor with her flashlight. He didn't bother asking her what she was doing because she carried out the same ritual every night whether they slept outside or in. She was looking for bugs or “creepy-crawlies” as she called them. It would be easy to imagine that she was a soft civilian who would be more a hindrance than anything but that would be a mistake. He was pretty certain that her friendly demeanor was not an act, but it hid a core that was as hard as steel.

  Being frightened of bugs wasn't, after all, quite as crazy as walking into enemy territory with nothing more than a pistol and a destination. As he closed his eyes, Nathan began dreaming of cockroaches.

  Chapter 6

  Solly stood beside the graveside and wept tears of grief and rage. He'd returned with the antivirals five days before, with Bobby and his sister. She was now recovering in the Fordham farmhouse, but he hadn't returned quickly enough to save everyone. Three strangers were dead before he'd gotten back, and another was too sick to save. And now Landon lay in a deep hole wrapped in a white blanket as, one by one, his friends took turns to shovel dirt into the grave.

  Arnold had officiated and, as a religious man, he'd done his best to give the ceremony the dignity it deserved while Solly stood there, trying desperately to force down his white-hot anger. This was a world devoid of any justice if good men like Landon died while so many, including the architects of the greater disaster of the Long Night, remained alive.

  Becky the medic couldn't explain why he'd died when others who had seemed less strong than he was had survived. Perhaps he'd had a congenital condition, she said. Or maybe he was simply unlucky. Either way, the young man he'd first met as he stood guard at a food depot, not abandoning his post despite the obvious futility of it, was now dead. The young man who'd supported Janice and the others to see the community thrive in Solly's absence. A good man. It wasn't fair.

  Solly had rejoined the people of the farmhouse for this ceremony after Becky assured him he couldn't possibly transmit the disease, but still he kept his distance. He and Bobby stood apart with Jaxon, who was still unsteady on his feet. Janice was there, tears streaming down her face, and he wanted nothing more than to run into her embrace and share their grief. In a sense, he understood why she was so devastated—she'd come to know Landon much better than he during the weeks Solly was away—but his own grief was harder to pin down. Perhaps it was because it was just another kick in the teeth he'd done everything he possibly could to avoid. Another failure. Perhaps it was that Landon's death symbolized everything that was wrong with the new world. A world where the Lee Corporation seemed to be the only winner. Well, he was going to do something about that. Justice was dead. Long live Justice.

  They held the wake on the lawn outside the farmhouse, overseen by the rocking chair Landon had used to rest up while his leg healed in the early days. Bobby had taken Jaxon back to the Fordham place and so Solly sat alone beneath a cherry tree, staring with unfocused eyes at the unopened buds that would soon coat the tree in living pink.

  "Are you okay?"

  Solly jerked out of his dream to see Janice there. "Don't come closer!"

  She smiled and his heart melted. "Becky says you're no danger. If I was a suspicious woman, I'd think you didn't want to be anywhere near me."

  He knew she wasn't being serious, but still it hurt. "Are you kidding me? I want nothing more than to hold you right now."

  And she was upon him before he could push her away. He felt the chair's legs sink into the soft earth as she threw her arms around him and pulled herself so close he could hardly breathe. As she relaxed a little, he drew in a lungful of her scent and kissed her, their lips merging for no more than a couple of seconds before she pushed herself away. "There, I'm quite infected now, if you were. Thank you for giving me a moment's happ
iness. Poor Landon. Such a horrible, horrible thing to happen."

  "I know," Solly said, gazing up at her as she sat on his knees. He drew in a deep breath. "I want to see Khaled, Scott and Paulie."

  "Why?"

  "All of this, the Long Night and all the death that's happened since, is because of the Lee Corporation."

  Janice shrugged a little and looked uncertainly at Solly. "There have always been flu epidemics, Sol. You can't blame them for Landon and the others."

  "Oh yes I can," Solly said, with a little more heat than he'd originally intended. "Even if he'd gotten the disease, if they hadn't destroyed our society, he'd have had decent hospital care. He'd have survived."

  "But Sol, what d'you think you can do about it?" she said. "I'm sad too, but I don't want you to go away again. I want you to stay here with me."

  Solly's heart swelled with love and sadness. To finally feel this way while knowing that he couldn't possibly enjoy it was tearing him apart. But the line had been crossed. Solly Masters was no longer a passive pawn in another's game of chess; he could not leave the fight to others while he waited for the ax to fall. He was the only one who Alison would take orders from and he was one of only a handful who knew of the threat posed by Lee Corp. If he didn't act, who would?

  "I want that too," he said, and he meant it from the bottom of his heart. "But I cannot stay here and let others fight for us. I need to see Khaled, Scott and Paulie and I need to see them now."

  Solly still wasn't prepared to expose the old and young of the farmhouse to any risk of spreading the disease, so they met in the barn, sitting in a rough square made of straw bales. Janice sat next to Solly with Khaled, Scott and Paulie opposite. Bobby had become the de facto leader of the Fordham community and a fast friend of Solly's, so he'd also been invited to attend.

  Two gas lanterns had been placed in the space between the two groups and Solly was fighting the instinctive temptation to try to warm his hands on them as the cool afternoon morphed into a cold night.