Dark New World (Book 3): EMP Deadfall

by J. J. Holden

  She hadn’t expected anyone to speak up—it seemed pretty straightforward—but to her surprise, a hand shot up. It was Choony, damn it. Cassy had a feeling this was going to be a problem, but she motioned Choony to continue anyway. Every Clanner had a voice and the right to speak their mind, even though it was Cassy and her council—Michael, Frank, and Ethan—who had final authority on things Clan-related. At times like this, that could be frustrating.

  Choony stood and made a slight bow to Cassy and then to the roomful of people. “Cassy, I know that we all respect your wise leadership,” he said with apparent sincerity. “And this plan is a good one, a wise one. But it is a worldly plan. I have a higher responsibility to my conscience. I’m sorry, but I don’t feel I can pick up a rifle, much less kill another human being, even at the cost of my life. I will risk my life for all these good people, but I cannot take anyone’s life even in defense.”

  Dammit. Cassy clenched her jaw, the muscles standing out as she struggled to remain calm. Screw Choony and his high-and-mighty morality. “Choony, would you really be willing to let other Clanners die at Peter’s hands without lifting a finger to help defend them? Their children? Defend my children?”

  Cassy was infuriated that Choony wouldn’t lift a rifle, though the saner part of her knew it was just the end result of his principled stand. And then that touch of respect she felt for him pissed her off even more, though mostly with herself. Dammit, she had to take herself in hand before she lost the whole group. Time to get a grip and lead from strength rather than fear.

  “Cassy,” Choony said slowly, cautiously, “I would never put other humans at risk, especially those who are my family, and all the Clan is my only family now. My inability to kill people does not equal putting my family at risk. I—”

  Cassy narrowed her eyes at him as he spoke, then interrupted him. “Yes, Choony, it does equal that. The Clan will defend itself, and I’m not sure I want to make room for someone who won’t pull their weight. The others might not sit well with your decision, either, and this isn’t the time for division.”

  Cassy felt a hand on her arm and glanced over to see Frank standing next to her, a concerned look on his face. She glared at him, then deliberately turned to face Choony with an iron gaze.

  Choony replied, “I’ll respect your wishes if that’s really what you want. But please hear me, Clan Leader, when I say that there is much I can do to help without ever picking up a rifle. I have First Aid training. I can retrieve our wounded from the line of fire. I can ferry ammunition where it is needed when the battle is underway. In fact, I can even put together quite a lot of pipe bombs and wire them for remote detonation—I’m majoring in Chemistry, you know—and I can do it with the things we have on hand. I won’t place the bombs or press the button to explode them, but I will build them, and you and Michael can place them better anyway. I can do that, but I won’t directly take another life even at the expense of my own.”

  Cassy stood frozen, her mind racing. Not only was this newcomer not going to defend the Clan, which endangered all of them, but he was also directly refusing an order in front of the Clan. Damn him, why couldn’t he just get a minute to talk when everyone wasn’t around? The fight would be in a day, two at most, and he chose this time to get uppity in public, when unity was needed. Had he come to her separately, she could have talked through it to find a solution that used Choony to the best effect, conscientious objector that he was, rather than have to face down a refusal in front of everyone in the Clan right before The Big Battle. Life or death events left little margin for what amounted to mutiny.

  “Choony, you leave me little choice,” Cassy said. Her voice was tight, and if she relaxed her self-control for even a moment right now, she’d definitely regret what she said or did. This was the time for self-discipline, if they were to survive, and she was not about to lose it right now in front of everyone. But she couldn’t stand for outright refusal in the face of an implacable enemy. “You will take up arms and train like everyone else, just as I have ordered, or you forfeit the Clan’s protection, its resources, and its fellowship. We value you, Choony. Your insights, your skills—those are much needed assets. But our people are about to fight for our lives, and some will likely not make it through. I owe it to them to make sure we’re fighting for people who want to be one of us.”

  Before he or anyone else could respond, Cassy spun on her heels and walked away with her back erect, head held high. Only her brisk pace now gave away her agitation. But as she spun, she caught sight of Frank, and the tight-lipped look on his face as he stared at her quickly turned her anger into worry. Please, Lord, don’t let it all fall apart now…

  Then a new anger rose, at Frank. He would have known how to handle that, but he refused to step up, leaving her to hold the bag. Well, she’d done the best she knew how, and that was all she could do.

  Cassy motioned for Frank to follow and left the “chow hall.” When they were out of sight, she turned and said, “Look, Frank. I know I’m blowing this. I don’t know what to do. The only group I ever led before was a marketing focus group for a media marketing agency. You would have handled this better. I see you look at me with disapproval, and I get it. I disapprove of the job I’m doing, too. But since we both know you can lead us better, why not step up? I’ll step down, willingly.”

  Frank looked down, refusing to meet her eyes. “I’m happy to be your right-hand guy, Cassy, but I can’t lead this bunch. I did it on the journey because I had to. Now we’re here, and this is your show. Please forgive me, Cassy, but I won’t step into your shoes.”

  Cassy let out a long breath. Finally, she said, “Alright, Frank. I understand. Very well, then—go talk to Choony, and find us a way out of this mess. Then go talk to Jaz. She’s hurting, and lashing out, and I don’t really know why, but I don’t like seeing her in pain. Let’s get our ship squared away, as Michael would say, so that together we can all face what’s coming.”

  Silently, she prayed for the first time in years.

  - 8 -

  1100 HOURS - ZERO DAY +24

  PETER WAS DISTRACTED by a commotion outside of camp, and he sent Jim to find out what was going on. Two minutes later, Jim returned with one of the scouts who was supposed to be checking out the spy’s farm, taking notes and drawing maps. Peter’s irritation rose. “What the hell is going on here? Jim, why isn’t this man scouting? Last time I checked, he was a scout.”

  Jim nodded. He stood with one hand on the scout’s shoulder and the other held palm-out toward Peter in appeasement. “Yeah, boss. But it turns out those people—they call themselves the Clan—captured our other scout. Tortured him, and probably wrung every ounce of information out of him, before staking him out on the path we’re to take. And boss… They skinned his face off and did some other nasty shit to him. I imagine they thought it’d scare us away.”

  Peter’s face flushed red, and he swung his clenched fist through the air. “Goddammit, Jim! I bet they know every fucking thing about us by now.”

  The scout lowered his head, and his gaze. “I’m sorry, sir. But it wasn’t a complete waste. I caught one of them walking around alone and brought her to you.” The scout turned to Jim and said, “I expect you’ll appreciate some of her finer qualities.”

  Peter saw Jim perk up. Yep, Jim was easy to control. Feed his vice and tell him what a great guy he is, tell him his victims deserved it, and he’d follow Peter anywhere. “Jim, I’ll need you to handle her questioning personally. She’s with the spy and not only has information we need, she deserves much worse than anything you could think up. Use your imagination to get what I need out of her.”

  Then Peter looked around to evaluate the faces of his other nearby followers. They looked at the returning scout with doubt and at Jim with disgust on their faces but were careful not to look toward Peter himself. Peter smelled trouble brewing. The failure of the scout, he figured, was the first time these people had seen Peter fail in anything, even before the EMPs. Now they kne
w he could fail, and that was a monkey wrench in the gears unless he could flip it to a win in their eyes. No way he was going to let this fuck up his program.

  “Jim, before you question her, I need this ‘Clan’ scouted. Understand? I need it done right, so I’m sending someone more capable than the last crew. You go and handle it personally. I won’t allow their screw-up to endanger the rest of us.”

  Jim sidled up toward Peter and said in a whisper, “But boss, I don’t have any scouting experience. What can I do that a scout can’t?”

  Aha. So that was it—Jim was afraid of failing him and screwing up a good gig. Very well. Peter smiled, his face full of pleasant goodwill. “It’s good you know your limits, man! But I know you are well-suited to do this. And you’ll have help with some of the tricks—I’ll send the scout who made it back to us with you. He’ll backstop you, and if you say he does well, then he’ll earn his place back from his earlier failure.” Yeah, he gets redemption, people. See?

  Jim grinned. He seemed plenty happy with that solution. “You got it, boss. Just one more question, though…”

  Peter grinned right back at Jim. So predictable. “You don’t even need to ask. When you get back, of course I’ll expect you to question our little Clan prisoner. Then we can put together what you see, and what she says, and get the full picture.”

  Jim nodded, and stood taller. More erect. “I won’t fail you, boss,” he said, shooting a warning look at the scout. “On my life.”

  Peter nodded his approval. Yes, Jim surely would put his life on the line to please him. “Before you leave, Jim, make sure our new prisoner is secured, but don’t waste time questioning her. Scout first, then you can deal with her when you and the scout get back. Grab another prisoner too, if one stumbles by.” Go see your prize before you leave, feed your delusion, and be useful, Peter mused. Call it motivational. Peter kept his face open, cheerful and honest as Jim and the scout left while the others looked on. Yeah. Smile at the nice little followers, let ’em bask in your confidence. He winked at the onlookers and turned away to his desk, pretending to have something to do. Obediently, they left, murmuring among themselves.

  Peter wondered if God had just thrown him a test. Well, if so, he aced it. His smile turned genuine then, even reaching his eyes for a brief moment.

  * * *

  Mandy walked into the living room, empty save for Cassy, who was doing her daily inspection of the house. Good, because it wouldn’t do to have this conversation in front of others. The Good Book was wise when it said that if another person acted in error, first discuss it with them alone. “Honey, I need a minute. I see you’re doing your inspection, and it isn’t time for lunch yet, so I know you have time. I’ll follow you around if you like, but you need to hear me out.”

  Cassy paused, looked up, and let out a long breath. Then she nodded. Mandy was relieved; she hadn’t relished having this conversation in public, but that would have been her next step.

  Mandy continued, “I only have one thing that can’t wait. It’s Choony. I know you said he had to train with the rifle or leave the Clan, and I’m here to tell you, I don’t think that’s very Christian or the right way to approach this. People here like and respect that peaceful, brave little Buddhist.”

  Cassy clenched her jaw, crossing her arms the way she had done since she was a child when she was about to go on the defensive. “I won’t let anyone in the Clan shirk their duties, Mom. I think the Bible has something to say about letting those who won’t work also not eat. My house, my rules, and dammit, we’re about to be attacked. Go ask Michael if we need discipline right now—you know what he’ll tell you.”

  “True, the Bible says that, and Michael will give a military response.” Mandy paused a moment before continuing: “No one here can say Choony doesn’t do more than his fair share of the work, and they’ve all seen or heard about how he came through to warn us while bullets chopped at the plants around him. He works hard without complaint, doing jobs no one else wants. He earns his keep, Cassy, so don’t cherry-pick Scripture to serve your own ends. God isn’t fooled, and I taught you better.”

  “Mom, you’re right about Choony. I already hit Frank up to see what we can do about him, about arranging it so he can stay here without driving wedges. But he didn’t bring it to me privately, he forced it on me in front of everybody. Now I’m on the spot. And do you really think God is watching us? I think He turned His back on us a month ago. And I’m not sure He ever did watch over us. My husband died, and He did nothing. My job took a turn for the worse, and He didn’t lead me to some milk-and-honey job—instead I had to work harder for less money and spend less time with the kids. Is that what the Bible says He wants? You got diabetes. Where was He when that happened? If He’s watching us at all, He doesn’t care about what happens to us.”

  Cassy relaxed her stiff posture and took a slow, calming breath. “Look, I admire your faith, Mom, I do, and I sort of share it, most of the time. But this isn’t a time we should rely on God. We have to do whatever we can for ourselves and hope to survive—and maybe hope God gives us a hand, because that’s the best we can expect.”

  Mandy felt her cheeks flush red and realized she’d clenched her fists. She counted to three slowly as she unclenched her fists, then took a deep breath. She’d seen Cassy try to tone down the disagreement, or at least her anger, and of course she should try to do the same…but to deny God like that? She closed her eyes, breathed deeply again, reaching for calm. Wrath wasn’t the solution here, she knew, besides it being a sin. Cassy was watching nervously, waiting for her to reply, and looked to be trying as hard as she could to get this conversation right. That made it even more important not to falter, not to fail her daughter.

  After a few more moments, she replied, “God watches over us more than you know. The evidence is all around us. Every plant on this farm is a testament to that—after all that desolation, it was your farm that didn’t get sprayed. Me and the kids survived to get to Ethan’s bunker, and that reclusive man risked it all to save us in the face of everything. All of that is proof. You surviving to get there just when we did is proof, too. We would all be dead on our own, but God put us in the way of meeting Ethan, and put Ethan in mind to help us, and in return we’ve helped Ethan continue his mission for our country. That is all in God’s plan. How can you doubt it? I got diabetes from eating too much cake, not because God failed me. We have Free Will and I chose to eat badly. We make our choices in this life, and we accept the results. God didn’t take your husband from you either—cancer did—but if He hadn’t allowed nature to take its course, if the kids still had a father, however sick, you wouldn’t have gotten that life insurance money when you needed it. You wouldn’t have been able to buy this land. Your job wouldn’t have given you all those months off on sabbatical, so you wouldn’t have had this place set up right when it was needed, ready when we needed it.”

  Mandy paused then, giving her daughter a steely look, but Cassy didn’t contest what she had said, so she continued: “Look. We would all have starved to death by now, like so many other people, without the unlikely chain of events that got us all here. So don’t you dare try to tell me God isn’t among us, turning men’s evil deeds and nature’s random works to His own good purposes.”

  Cassy sighed. “Mom, you see God’s will, but I see luck. We’re only one random event away from dying, even now, so you’d better stop relying on God and start to rely on your own smarts and hard work.”

  Mandy closed her eyes and let out a deep breath with a small, silent prayer. Sadness washed over her like a wave, drowning out the light—if her daughter couldn’t see God at work here, nothing could ever convince her, and when the Lord called Mandy home to sit at His side, she wouldn’t see her daughter again. Anything she said now would risk being said in anger or would mirror her sadness, and either way it would just make a mess of things. There was no point in arguing—she could only hope Cassy changed her ways of thinking before she stood before Him for Judg
ment. “Very well, Cassy. I love you, honey, and I hope you change your mind. Never mind God, letting Choony stay is the right and the practical thing to do. You know it or you wouldn’t be saying such terrible things. I’ll see you at lunch, sweetie. I’ve said what I came to say.”

  Mandy turned on her heels and walked out of the house, head held high and desperately struggling with her feelings, her anger, her disappointment, her grief. And another thing… Choony was clearly brought to the Clan by God’s will, no other explanation for it would do. Too much luck wasn’t luck at all, it was divine intervention. What would making Choony leave do to God’s plans for them all? Surely, He couldn’t be thwarted by the actions of one frightened woman? But in Mandy’s heart, she feared. The Bible was full of stories about what happens when you turn your back on His wishes. Mandy prayed for His forgiveness, and for strength.

  * * *

  After lunch, Frank found Cassy talking with Michael about the various defensive positions Michael had directed Dean in building. As Frank approached, he heard Michael saying something about how they hadn’t had time to put grenade sumps into the fighting pits, whatever a sump was. When Michael spotted Frank approaching, he nudged Cassy, and the two of them waved. Frank waved back and stopped a few feet from them.

  “Cassy, can I get a word with you if you have the time?” Frank asked.

  Cassy looked to Michael, who nodded and then walked back toward where Dean was still directing the construction of more foxholes on the other side of the farm. Turning back to Frank, she wore a warm smile as she said, “Sure, Frank. What can I do for you?”

  Frank couldn’t help but grin back. Cassy always seemed to have a smile for him no matter what else was going on. It was a good thing his wife trusted him so much and that he loved her so deeply. He’d never violate Mary’s trust, but he did relish Cassy’s smiles, maybe too much.