Project Terminus: Destiny

by Nathan Combs

  Wilcox nodded. “Right. Next, you want me to repair the birds?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s probably doable.”

  “For our sake, I hope so.”

  “Un huh. And last, you want me to assemble the troops and get them organized.”

  “Yeah. I’ll be there to help you with that, but get on the other items right away. Use as many men as necessary. I have to report back to Shelton by tomorrow, and I don’t want to be demoted after one day. If I get a bullet in the head, you’ll probably be donning the heavy mantle of command, so unless that’s something you look forward to, get this shit done.”

  Wilcox smirked. “Is it my imagination Lieu—err, General, or is this situation FUBAR?”

  “No, Ray. It’s not your imagination. We are absolutely and positively fucked up beyond all recognition.”

  Shelton sat in his office, bourbon in hand, and reread Foster’s report. It was better than he’d hoped for. He had twenty-four tanker trucks full of gas and twenty-one full of diesel. That came out to roughly 216,000 gallons of gasoline and 189,000 gallons of diesel. Plus, another 10,000 gallons of fuel siphoned from the nation’s vehicles. That was more than enough to conquer the Floridians, with plenty left over. Eventually, though, it would be gone.

  The germ of an idea was taking shape in his mind, and he pulled maps of the Gulf Coast and ran his finger over Saraland, Alabama.

  Ten days after McNulty’s arm went AWOL, he was on the mend. The pain was made tolerable with daily injections of morphine, which sent him to la-la land, but he didn’t care. His mojo departed with the loss of his arm, which felt like it was still there. He’d move it in his mind only to look and see the bandaged stump staring impudently back at him.

  In those rare moments of self-awareness, his memory flashed to Shelton’s display of insanity on the day he’d visited, and the fear he felt rushed icily over him again. No one had come to see him since that time, or if they had, he didn’t remember. For now, he was content to drift in the dreamy world the morphine provided.

  On the tenth day of his hospital stay, the doctor informed him that he was out of the woods and that tramadol would be substituted for the morphine.

  “The pain is still very intense, Doctor. I believe it is far too early to consider cessation of morphine in the pain regimen.”

  “You’ll be fine, Mr. McNulty. Any longer on the drip, and you’ll run the risk of addiction, if you’re not already there.”

  “Well, I don’t care. I want to continue with the morphine, if you don’t mind.”

  “I do mind. Mr. Shelton wants you to return to work with your full faculties as soon as possible. In fact, he’s coming to visit you in a few hours.”

  McNulty’s eyes got big, and he shuddered.

  Four hours later, Shelton poked his head into McNulty’s room, paused, smiled, and came toward the bed. “You’re looking good, David. The doctor tells me you’ve made a remarkable recovery and that you can be released by the end of the week. I hope you will forgive my rudeness the last time I was here. I was under duress, and I don’t believe I acted appropriately.”

  McNulty looked closely at Shelton’s face as he spoke, and although he didn’t see the shiny marble eyes, he would never forget the brief glimpse he had been granted into the insanity of Gabriel Shelton. He shuddered in remembrance.

  Shelton asked, “Are you all right, David? You’re trembling like a mega bowl of Jell-O.”

  “Yes, forgive me, Gabriel. I am still getting used to life without morphine.”

  “It’s all right, David. I understand.”

  “Thank you, Gabriel. I would most certainly appreciate it if you brought me up to speed regarding events since I became indisposed.”

  Instantly enthused, Shelton pulled his chair closer to McNulty’s bed. “You recall that General Kirilov was relieved of his command?”

  “You killed him. Yes.”

  “Killed is such a nasty word, David. It’s so—bourgeois. I prefer the word dispatch. But, whatever. The fact remains that General Kirilov is no longer with us. I’ve replaced him with Robert Foster, and I must say, the new is a big improvement over the old. In other news, the Floridians destroyed our refinery, the tank farm, and the ships. On the surface, it sounds bad, and for the short term it certainly is, but I must give credit where credit is due. Kirilov, the crafty bastard, stored over 400,000 gallons of fuel in tanker trucks, so we have plenty. At least for now. However, the invasion plans have changed, dramatically.”

  A confused look cascaded down McNulty’s face. “I am sorry, Gabriel. Am I to understand you are still going through with the invasion?”

  “Of course, David. I told you those pricks would pay for what they did, and they will. But I have decided against a simple invasion.” Shelton stopped for a moment, then looked quizzically at McNulty. “Aren’t you going to ask?”

  “I assumed you would finish, Gabriel.”

  “Hmmm. Yes, and so I will. We are no longer going to simply invade, David. We are going to conquer, and then we are going to occupy and rule.”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “I mean, since we no longer have the luxury of a refinery and unlimited oil and gas, there is no reason for the Texas Nation to remain in Texas. I never liked it here anyway. We are going to relocate, lock, stock, and barrel, to Florida. All hands. Mass migration. We’ll have fun in the Florida sun. I was thinking of renaming us Sunshine Nation. Has a nice ring, don’t you think?”

  McNulty was dumbfounded, but in an insane Shelton way, it made sense. “I must ask, Gabriel, have you tweaked the battle plan?”

  “Of course. We’ll lose people during the fight. That’s a given. Maybe a lot of people, but don’t you see, there’s a certain beauty in the term, ‘the survival of the fittest.’ Anyway, fuck the bourgeoisie. The trick will be to minimize damage to the Floridian’s compound. I certainly don’t relish living in a condo. Or, God forbid, a fucking trailer.”

  McNulty nodded feebly. “What do you need me to do, Gabriel?”

  “I need you to get back on your feet as soon as possible, David. We have a lot of planning to do, and I need your expertise. I suggest you get some rest. When you’re refreshed, grease those wheels in your head and get them spinning.” He started for the door, snapped his finger, and turned. “You know what? On second thought, I’ll get the doctor to release you this evening. He can assign a nurse to look after you. The prick can make house calls.”

  “Gabriel, I—”

  “Now, now, David. There’s no need to thank me. What are friends for? It’s a done deal.”

  “We’ve been here for two weeks, Wade. Not a peep. We’re bored. Let us go back to Corpus and see what’s goin’ on.”

  “Give it another week, Ty. If nothing shakes out, we’ll take another look. I dispatched three more men, some food, some C-4, and some other goodies to you. They should be there in the morning. Send Chris, Jim, and Robbie back.”

  “They’re listening. They want to stay.”

  “Chris, I need you here. Jim, Robbie, if you guys want to stay, it’s all right with me. What do you want me to tell your wives?”

  “That’s dirty pool, boss.”

  Wade chuckled. “See you in twenty-four.”

  A week after leaving the hospital, Shelton insisted that McNulty return to work, and in fact, acted like McNulty was still whole. McNulty, on the other hand, experienced occasional moments of sharp pain, and while the tramadol muted it to a tolerable level, the craving for morphine was another matter.

  McNulty was stunned at the enormity of the new plan Shelton laid out. It was simple, made sense, and except for the scenario where they took out the Floridians, it exhibited a flair bordering on genius.

  Wanting Shelton to let him reconnect with Stuart, McNulty said, “I assure you, Gabriel, I can use a combination of truths, half-tru
ths, deceptions, and outright lies to instill doubt in their minds. Doubt creates the potential for error, and errors can be fatal.” He paused. “I do have one small favor to ask, though.”

  Shelton looked askance. “Favor?”

  “Yes. It would appear, thanks to our friends in Florida, that I am now addicted to morphine. I was hoping you would command the doctor to provide some for me. I must say it is quite debilitating. That would allow me to ease off of it slowly.”

  Shelton looked at the ceiling, pursed his lips, cocked his head to one side, and then shook it sideways. “No. You’re going cold turkey.”

  “Texas Nation calling Florida. This is David. Are you there, Stuart?”

  McNulty repeated the call three times in five minutes.

  After the third call, Stuart’s restrained voice trickled out of McNulty’s headset. “What do you want, McNulty?”

  “I trust you and yours are well?”

  Stuart didn’t respond.

  “I do understand your hesitancy to communicate with me, Stuart, but I hope you will accept my most sincere apology for the actions of the Texas Nation during the past couple of months. Mr. Shelton and General Kirilov are no longer in a position of authority. I suppose it would be safe to say that I have effected a coup.”

  Silence.

  “Stuart? Did you hear me?”

  “Yeah. You’re running the show now.”

  “In good conscience, I would not refer to it as a show. However, a change in leadership of the Texas Nation proved necessary, so yes, I am reluctantly in charge.”

  “You still haven’t told me what you want.”

  “I believe I should tell you what I do not want. I most definitely do not want a conflict with you, or with any other survivors of the apocalypse.”

  “Then there’s no problem. You stay in Texas. We’ll stay in Florida. You leave us alone. We’ll leave you alone.”

  “Stuart, our relationship started off on the wrong foot. I admit I was less than truthful during our initial conversation, and I take full responsibility for that faux pas. But you were not completely aboveboard either. Evil still lurks in the world, my friend, and one must take precautions.”

  Stu scribbled a note and handed it to his operator.

  McNulty continued. “It’s unfortunate, Stuart, but—”

  “Can you hang on a minute, David? I’m sorry, but my bladder’s about to burst.”

  Minutes later, Wade, Randal, and Bill entered the communications center, and Stuart put the conversation on speaker.

  “Sorry about that, David. Are you still there?”

  “Of course I am, Stuart. I started to say that, while we lost a refinery, a tank farm, and three oil tankers during the recent, uh…incident, it wasn’t fatal. I have another refinery operating at full capacity and one supertanker full of oil. I was hoping you would consider trading fuel for food. There are not many people left alive in the world, Stuart. There is no point in conflict between us.”

  Wade and the others exchanged looks.

  “I’ll pass your request up the line. I’ll let you know within the hour. By the way, I’m curious. What happened to the Chinese survivors you were communicating with?”

  “As a matter of fact, half of their entourage arrived here in November. They left shortly thereafter. I have no idea where they went. Another Chinese ship actually made it to Liverpool, England. An absolutely astounding feat of seamanship.”

  “That is amazing.”

  “Yes. It truly was.”

  “You know, Stuart, now that you have brought it to my attention, I haven’t heard from England in quite some time, or from Russia either, for that matter. They had plans to merge into a European-type union. But I digress. Would you be willing to meet and bury the old hatchet, so to speak?”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  When the conversation ended, Stuart provided an update on the gist of what had transpired before Wade and the others had arrived.

  Randal said, “I don’t believe one word of that crap.”

  Bill nodded his agreement. “That guy’s the biggest bullshit artist of all time.”

  Wade said, “Well, we all know what happens when you assume. If McNulty is actually in charge, that might put a different spin on things. If it’s disinformation, that’s a dog of a different color. If they have a second refinery, that could prove problematic, although Tyler was adamant there was only one and that there were only three tankers.”

  Randal chipped in, “Dad, you have to trust me on this. I talked to both of those nut cases, and there was no coup. McNulty’s a puppet master. He did not take Shelton out. I don’t know about Kirilov, but I’m positive this is disinformation. Nothing more.”

  “I tend to agree, Randal. Kirilov was against the invasion, so it’s likely Shelton had him removed. Time to send Tyler back to Corpus.”

  Wade called Tyler. “New mission, Tyler.”

  “Go.”

  “You’re heading back to Corpus. Take one man with you. Recon only. We need to know what’s happening there. Your other two men are to remain in place. Observers only. If they’re going to invade, they have to come through Beaumont.”

  When the phone call was over, Wade turned to Stuart. “Are the sat phones you found operational?”

  “Yeah. Every team has one, and we have a dozen in reserve.”

  “Alert all posts that hostilities are imminent.”

  “Did they take the bait, David?”

  “It is hard to say, Gabriel. We will see. When will the conquest begin?”

  Shelton mused. “Hmm, I don’t have a specific date. The ground forces are ready to go, and the Gulf force should be ready by the weekend. The problem is the bourgeoisie. Some of them actually want to haul their furniture to Florida. They’re—how should I say this? Well, shit. They’re stupid fuckers.”

  McNulty knew the majority of the people didn’t want to leave Texas. He understood that the thought of change was frightening for them. At the same time, he agreed with Shelton’s assessment of the bourgeoisie, as Shelton now called them. They were as dumb as the proverbial box of rocks.

  “I will take it upon myself to set their minds at ease, Gabriel, but it would be beneficial if I had a tentative date for the migration to begin.”

  “You’re becoming a pain in my ass, David, but all right. Let’s say five days.”

  Tyler checked the other refineries in Corpus. They were as dead as the old doornail, and he found no evidence of another tanker. He checked out two other tank farms and found them empty.

  He phoned it in. “He was lying through his teeth, Wade. No refinery, no ship, no tanks full of oil. Nothing. There’s one big-ass hole in the ground where their refinery used to be, though. Checking the airport tomorrow.”

  The next morning, from a distance of 1,500 yards, Tyler peered through the 20x spotting scope and focused on the airport terminal. Troop trucks and support vehicles sat on the tarmac, but the choppers, some of the armor, and several of the tanker trucks were gone.

  He called Wade. “The birds, some armor, and vehicles are missing from the airport, boss, but other than that, there’s not much happening.”

  “We’re still talking with McNulty. Something’s going on. Keep me posted.”

  Two days later, Tyler called Wade. “Better get everyone into the Powwow Room.”

  “Give me ten, Ty.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Tyler was hooked into the speaker system, and Wade told him to go.

  “A convoy of armor, troop transports, and tanker trucks are heading east, followed by—I hope you’re ready for this—hundreds of vehicles with furniture lashed to roofs and pulling trailers. I’m not kidding. They’re still streaming out. They’re abandoning Corpus.”

  The silence in the command center was absolute.

  “Wade. Did you copy?”
<
br />   “Yeah, Ty. Sorry. Wasn’t expecting that. How many combat troops?”

  “Hard to say. I can’t tell who’s in the vehicles, but the armored column consists of eighteen Strykers, half a dozen Bradleys, and thirty-four troop-transports.”

  “What about the birds?”

  “Nada. There should be another ten Strykers and more Bradleys too. And I know damn well they had more troop trucks than what just peeled outta here.”

  “Okay, bird-dog them and keep me posted. I sent Chris and Callahan back to Beaumont. You can talk to them directly if you need to.”

  Wade called Chris with the update and was informed there was not enough C-4 to blow all three bridges over the Neches River in Beaumont, but there was enough to take out the bridge over I-10. It wouldn’t stop them, but a delay in Beaumont combined with the downed bridges in Pensacola would force them to expend considerable resources and time to reach I-75.

  “Blow the I-10 Bridge and head home, son.”

  Three hours later, Tyler called Wade again. “The city’s abandoned. I’m leaving now. I’ll catch up with them before they hit Beaumont.”

  “Roger.”

  Alone in the command center, Wade turned to Bill. “Well, you heard the man. This is more than an invasion. McNulty—or Shelton—intends to occupy.”

  “Ten to one, they embed women and kids with the armor.”

  “Good point. You’re probably right. Let’s give the prick a call.”

  McNulty answered the phone on the third ring. “Yes, Stuart.”

  “It’s not Stuart, asshole. Listen up. You will not be allowed to enter central Florida.”

  “I am sorry. I have no idea who you are or what you are talking about.”

  “Spin it any way you want, McNulty. You come here, you die.”

  McNulty was silent for several seconds. “Surely, you don’t intend to open fire upon helpless women and children?”

  Wade and Bill exchanged looks, then Wade said, “I say again. We will not allow you and your people to enter Central Florida.” He punched the end button.