“Thank you,” he said as he began cleaning and dressing his wound. He cringed and gasped quite a bit while doing so. “I told you though, I’m not armed. If I was, you would’ve seen a few more dead bodies back there in black uniforms.”
Lauren watched him closely and against her better judgement every so often, she turned her head to look around while he wasn’t looking at her. Twilight had taken over the woods and it was getting much cooler. It had been an hour or so since the sun had set past the mountains to her west, shadowing her in the small hollow beside Cedar Creek near the historical area of Van Buren Furnace. It was usually warmer in the valleys but that was about to change as night set in. It wouldn’t be very long before darkness would overcome and the only thing illuminating her field of view would be this stranger’s fire pit. A few minutes of silence went by before her curiosity took over.
“How did you manage to get away?” she asked in a more humble, inquisitive tone. “I saw the truck. It was obliterated.”
“I jumped out before the truck got hit by the rocket. I got about ten feet when it hit and the explosion threw me into the woods. I was airborne for twenty or thirty feet. I must’ve been knocked unconscious, but I have no idea for how long. When I came to, I was pretty well hidden in the bushes and I could hear the agents as they were looking for me. They kept calling me ‘the third body’. They were pointing their rifles into the surrounding trees. I just laid there. Then, I saw the other guys. They had to have been in the truck when it exploded. They were pretty burned and torn up, and definitely were not moving.”
The man continued to nurse his wound. Lauren’s muscles were beginning to tire from holding the rifle at ready for so long, but she continued to aim it at the man. She wanted to trust what he was saying, but past experience told her not to. She knew that it was possible for anyone to be capable of lying and getting others to believe their story, especially now.
“So, how did you end up with a bullet hole in your leg?” Lauren pondered.
“When I saw them turn away from me for a cigarette break, I made a break for it,” he said. “Before that, I heard them radioing in for a K9 to come search for me. Seemed like a good idea at the time.” He smirked and shook his head in a show of mild disgust.
“Wait—they had working radios?” Lauren asked.
“Yes. Why?”
“I thought the EMP took out everything electronic,” she said.
The man looked up at her. “For the most part it did—but there’s always some exceptions. Around here, most radios and electronic devices were fried,” the man said. “But government agencies like DHS prepared for this. They hardened some of their stock and placed quite a lot of electronic equipment inside shielded containers and metal buildings with elaborate grounding fields.”
“Faraday cages,” Lauren recounted. She could remember her father telling her about such things.
“Yep. It’s not hard to do it, even with the slightest bit of ingenuity. So I guess you know what I’m talking about, then.”
Lauren nodded. “Do you know how much of the country was affected?” she asked, her curiosity showing in the tone of her voice.
“From what I understand, it took out everything east of the Mississippi. The metro areas—the real population centers were hit the hardest. I have heard that there are parts of the country that weren’t hit,” he said. He paused and waited for another question from Lauren, and when enough time had passed, he continued. “Anyway, when I heard a dog was en route I knew I was screwed, so I took an opportunity when they weren’t looking to make a run for it. I made it about fifty feet up the trail when one of them saw me and all of them opened fire at me. I thought for sure I was dead. When I felt the round hit my leg, I knew I was dead. Then, they just stopped. They didn’t run after me and honestly, I have no idea why. I made it to the top of that mountain and hid under some rocks, hoping I could get the jump on them if they pursued me, but I never saw them. When I heard them drive away, I came down here to get some water and get warm. Just followed a blue-blazed trail and it led me to the creek, and then I followed that here.”
“It’s almost like they just let you go,” Lauren went on, “and that makes no sense at all to me.”
“I know. Me neither.”
“If it was me, I would have wanted to make certain you were dead,” Lauren said flippantly.
The man was taken aback at her response and his disapproval was obvious. Lauren’s matter-of-fact attitude had normally caught those not used to her off-guard, and had ended more than several conversations with the recipient assuming she was a bitch. She began thinking how that might have sounded to someone who had just recently lost three of his closest friends. His expression matched what she was expecting to see. Wanting to get more information and keep the conversation civil, she decided to change her tune.
“I’m sorry. That was harsh,” Lauren offered.
“It’s ok,” he said as he looked away again. “You’re the one with the gun, so for now, its ok.”
She paused. “I’m sorry, also—about your friends,” she said with a glint of sympathy in her voice.
The man looked at her again, nodded and smiled grimly. “Brothers. They were my brothers,” he said. “And thank you.” He paused. “I need to bury them, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to go back there right now.”
The man finished his handy work and placed the bandage over his wound. It was obvious to Lauren that he had some experience in emergency first aid. Tossing the wipes, bandage wrapper and bloody gauze in the fire pit, he placed the scissors back in the first aid kit and zipped it shut. He then held it up to her.
“Good as new,” he said, as he motioned toward the camp with his head.
“You said you were in a militia?” Lauren asked.
“Yes. I’m a Corporal in the Shenandoah Valley Legionnaires.”
“Never heard of them,” she said.
“Not many people have. We were good at staying low on the radar. By the way, if you’re cold, you can come closer to the fire. I don’t bite.”
“Oh, you’re a fucking comedian, aren’t you?” she quipped.
The man smiled and tossed her first aid kit back to her. Lauren let it lay on the ground, her instincts telling her that would have been an easy way to distract her, if that was what he intended to do. Appearing as though that was not his goal, he pushed some of the logs in the fire around with a stick. He then tossed a few more logs on top of it. He looked at Lauren again, then reached his right hand over to his left shoulder and ripped the DHS patch from his shoulder and tossed it into the fire. The patch that read “SECURITY” followed.
“Guess I don’t need that anymore,” he said. “A lot of good it did me.”
With a slight grin, noticing his show of humility, Lauren chuckled through her nose and warmly asked, “What is your name?”
“Christian,” he said, not missing a beat. “Christian Hartman.”
“Well, Christian Hartman, I’m getting a little tired of standing here. I’m also getting hungry,” Lauren said. “I’m going to put down this rifle and come a bit closer. Do not get any ideas.”
“Guess my story makes sense then, huh?” Christian said.
“It does,” Lauren said as she flipped the safety on her rifle and brought it down in front of her. She moved her hand from the grip and reached into her waist pack, pulling out her Glock. “But we are far from cozy, and I still have a lot of questions.”
Lauren reached down and picked up her first aid kit, placing it back into her waist pack.
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” he said as he noticed the Glock in her hand. It was aimed in his direction, but not directly at him. “Can you tell me your name?”
Lauren nodded. “I can’t see any harm in that. My name is Lauren,” she said.
“Nice to meet you, Lauren,” Christian said.
Lauren smiled. She walked closer to the camp and stood near a tree on the other side of the fire pit with her back f
acing Cedar Creek. She unslung her rifle and set it against the tree just behind her, then unsnapped the quick-disconnects on her backpack and slid it off near the rifle. Opening the top of her backpack, she dug around inside for a bit and pulled out a large bag of rice and beans and set it on the ground. She then pulled out a ditty bag containing her cook set and set it on the ground. She tossed both bags one at a time to Christian, who caught them easily as if he were expecting her to do just that.
“I guess I’m cooking,” he said.
“Sorry, bud,” Lauren said. “It’s the only way I can keep an eye on your hands.”
“And there, I thought you trusted me,” he joked.
Lauren looked at him with raised eyebrows and cocked her head sassily. Christian quickly recanted.
“Kidding—only kidding,” he said with a smile. He emptied the ditty bag and set the cook set near the fire pit. He then took the bag of rice and beans and poured what he guessed would feed both of them into the pot. Lauren pulled a bottle of water from the side pocket of her pack and tossed it to him, then took a seat on the ground. He poured the water into the pot and sat the pot on top of two new logs that spanned the fire pit. “You’re pretty guarded, aren’t you,” he said.
“The times we are living in require it,” Lauren said. “But, yes…I’ve always been very cautious.”
“Yeah, I get it. Tough nut to crack and all that. But you seem like you know what you’re doing, though. You handle a rifle pretty well. You’ve handled this whole situation well. Most people nowadays would’ve just shot me and moved on.”
“I’m still contemplating doing just that,” Lauren said, “if it’s any consolation.”
There was a pause before anything else was said. Christian turned his head to her and noticed Lauren’s cynical, yet confident look. He offered her one of his own.
“It is, I guess,” he said, then hesitated. “I mean, I know it’s just a first impression, but you seem to really have your shit together,” he continued, trying not to sound too presumptuous or flattering. “Have you had training?”
“More or less,” Lauren replied.
“Military? Police academy?” Christian pondered, “Militia?”
Lauren drew back and gave him an anomalous look. “My father,” she said. She then pursed her lips.
“Oh,” he said with raised eyebrows, not expecting the answer.
A few minutes of silence followed. Lauren and Christian both just stared at the fire as it occasionally tossed a spark into the air.
“You said…that you and the others infiltrated DHS. Do you mind telling me how you were able to do that?” Lauren queried.
“Easy. We worked for them,” Christian said, glancing at her.
Lauren’s expression changed to one of apprehension once again. “What the hell does that mean exactly?” she asked as she gripped her pistol tightly.
“Calm down. It means just that. We were all government employees.”
“So you—you actually worked for DHS?” Lauren demanded as her temper began to flare. “You lied to me?”
“Listen,” Christian pleaded with a hand held up. “My brothers and I all landed jobs in Homeland Security and FEMA a few years ago. It was the only way to get vetted. We all knew some sort of fucked up scenario was coming a long time ago. The writing was on the wall. All the shady politics happening in Washington. All the corporate greed and fleecing of our country. All the race bating and all the violence and all the talk about gun control. They have been shitting on the Constitution for decades and suddenly, it just became the status quo. FEMA started building camps all over the country and stockpiling plastic coffins. Then, it became damn near a crime to be a patriot, and totally acceptable to be a criminal. People who took a stand and developed any type of following were silenced somehow or black-bagged. If you spoke out against an oath-breaking politician, owned guns or believed in the Bill of Rights, you were labeled a domestic terrorist. Patriots like me were shot in the back for abiding by the Constitution by some asshole federal agent, while terrorists were practically ushered into the country with a red fucking carpet rolled out for them. We the people lost the control of this country a long time ago, and it’s all our fault. On top of it all, the government was spending our tax dollars, preparing for a war with us the whole time, while we were busy with sports and reality television.” The disgust in his voice was clear.
Lauren couldn’t speak. The look of apprehension left her face and one of enormous curiosity replaced it. A burst of wind blew through the trees and she pulled her jacket hood up and over her beanie-covered head. It was nearing dark and the lower temperatures in the valley could be sensed now.
“I joined the militia when I was out of high school,” Christian continued. “My father was the County Sheriff here for several terms and he followed the oaths that he took to the letter. He lived it and breathed it and I wanted to be just like him. I didn’t believe in joining the military and fighting wars that served corporate interests—and I didn’t want to be a cop and serve the state, writing tickets all day. This region had a strong militia and it seemed like the best option. I could take the same oath, learn military tactics in my spare time, and live a normal life. So, that’s what I did.”
“Wait—your dad is Sheriff Hartman?” Lauren asked as Christian took a breath, “I think he and my grandparents knew each other.”
“Yes. That’s my dad,” Christian said. “Who were your grandparents?”
“The Gallos—they lived in Woodstock. But if you don’t mind, I don’t want to talk about them right now.”
Christian paused for a moment as if to gather his thoughts. “No problem. As I was saying, several of us militiamen had gotten some good espionage training from an ex-CIA agent who joined our team. We wanted a way in, so that we could provide intel and help as many people as we could prepare for what could or would eventually happen. Along the way, we learned that a group of elite oligarchs were planning for a new America, and they were arranging to turn the country completely upside-down, in order to get what they wanted.”
“Wait,” Lauren said, trying to put the puzzle in her mind together. “Are you saying that the collapse was actually precipitated by our own government? They are the ones responsible for all the shit that’s happened?”
“Yes—but not exactly,” he said. “I mean, they didn’t do anything to prevent it or to stop it from happening. It was like they wanted it to happen—and why not? It fixes all their problems. Their new America can begin immediately. With the grid down, the elite and the rich still get fed. They get to enjoy things, like heavily armed security and underground bunkers to ride out the storm. They get to survive and repopulate. The poor peasants get to fight it out amongst themselves and deal with the tribulation. Of course, some decided not to fight it and just went along with everything—you know, people who actually trusted the government. They gave up whatever freedom they had left, in order to be fed and quartered. They’re provided for in exchange for labor, but there’s not room for everyone and not everyone can perform the tasks they’re forced to do. At least fifty percent of our population nationwide is already dead for whatever reason I’m guessing, and it won’t be long before we add another ten or twenty percent to that number. Most people weren’t prepared for a nightmare like this and no one saw it coming because they refused to read the signs. I’m guessing the powers that be couldn’t be happier. It fits their agenda for population control and they didn’t even have to do a damn thing to force it to happen.”
“Population control?” Lauren asked, completely taken aback.
“Of course. Can you think of a better way to rid the system of most—if not all of the people dependent on it?”
“I’m confused,” Lauren said. “I’m sorry, but this is a lot to take in.”
“It’s always been about population control,” Christian continued, “and natural resources. Earth only has so much to provide. If we keep populating at the rate we’re going, the thought is that there won
’t be anything left. The elite believe this, and because of that, have done whatever’s been needed over the years to kill off the population. I admit, their methods have always been much more subtle. Mass forced vaccinations, fluoride in the water, food additives that cause cancer and destroy reproductive organs. With less strain on the system, there’s more for them and less for people like you and me. By limiting the population, there’s less people like you and me around, and they can have even more than ever before. It’s a world of haves and have-nots, and the haves play to win.”
“So, it’s greed then,” Lauren concluded.
“Greed, power, and survival of the fittest,” he said. Christian lifted the water bottle up and Lauren nodded to him, knowing he was asking if he could have a drink. He opened the top and took a large drink and another before twisting the top back on and continuing. “The government plays right into it—they’re all puppets, especially our President. The Department of Homeland Security, FEMA, and all of the federal agencies who remain loyal have the same thing in common—plenty of power and next to zero accountability. They can pretty much do whatever they want and have no one to answer to.” Quickly changing the subject as if it was natural to him, he said, “By the way, this is really good water.”
“It’s straight out of the mountain,” Lauren replied as she gazed into the fire, not knowing what to think after what he had just told her. Her mind was in overdrive. Suddenly, she felt very alone in this world that Christian was describing to her. She had known it was bad—really bad, but she’d had no idea how bad it truly was. On top of everything, the last thing she wanted to believe was that there was an entire class of people literally getting off on it. People worse off than her and her family had suffered the worst of this catastrophe. Many had died, simply because the system that kept them alive had failed. Others were simply starving to death—or killing each other over food or other supplies. The country was in chaos, and the chaos was being aided and abetted by the government. She was just as angered as she was saddened by the news. She wanted to scream.
What's Left of My World (Book 1) Page 11