“I think we’re past that, Madam President. Mexico is essentially without a government at the moment.”
She turned to General Carr.
“General, what do you think of a preemptive attack on Mexico’s cartels?”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” he said, obviously irritated by not being included in the discussion with Vice President Pike. “However, I wouldn’t dismiss it out of hand. Our country has enough to worry about without drug cartels moving in.”
She nodded. “Okay, we’ll take that up with the generals. What else, Tom?”
“The situation on the northern border is very different. Canada wasn’t hit as hard as the US, and we’ve already received formal complaints that many of our residents are crossing over in search of food and emergency supplies.”
“Does that strike anyone else as ironic?” she asked. “Immigrants are rushing in from the south while our citizens are fleeing to the north?” She didn’t wait for an answer, waving away the question. “It doesn’t matter. The Canadians will have to deal with it for now. We’re not going to put what few resources remain toward keeping people from leaving the country.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, jotting something down on a pad.
“How are we doing inside the borders?” she asked. “Are we still being plagued by infighting?”
“We are, but Jack might be better able to answer that.” Pinker turned to Jack Fry, the Director of the Federal Emergency Management Agency.
President Glass had known Jack for longer than any of the other men, and she considered him a close friend. Shortly after she took office, he had been involved in an auto accident that left him paralyzed from the waist down and confined to a wheelchair. Despite his injuries, he had not lost his almost grandfatherly way of dealing with those around him.
“Jack?” she said.
He smiled warmly at her.
“Ma’am, I’m afraid that it’s gone from bad to just plain awful. Violence and lawlessness are spreading to every corner of the country. Of course, we’re still trying to get supplies out, but given that they now require full military escort, we’ve had to greatly reduce the number of relief convoys.”
“What about air drops? Can’t we drop food and supplies using cargo planes?”
“General Carr and I have been working on that,” he said, gesturing to the general. “The problem is one of putting supplies in the hands of law-abiding citizens and not violent militias. Also, there are obvious issues with the availability of planes, fuel, and crew. But challenges aside, we will begin a campaign of air-dropping supplies in the coming weeks.”
“But that’s not going to be enough, is it?” she said. It was more of a statement than a question.
“No, ma’am, it won’t be nearly enough.”
“Which means that people will continue to resort to taking what they need.”
He nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
She turned back to General Carr.
“How are we with clearing a few major cities? Places where we can provide security and supplies for those who remain.”
He opened one of his folders and removed a map. On it were symbols denoting different military units. There were surprisingly few of them.
“We’ve begun moving forces to establish supply routes,” he said, moving his finger across the map. “Our plan is to start with three cities: Denver, Norfolk, and Olympia.”
“Why those cities?”
“Norfolk and Olympia provide port access, and Denver is centrally located. All three are small enough to be cleared in a reasonable time frame. A city like Los Angeles or New York would be years in the making.”
“All right,” she said. “And how long do you think it will take to clear these three cities?”
“That’s tough to say for certain. We have two issues to deal with. The first is handling the infected survivors, some of whom are more cooperative than others.”
She raised an eyebrow at him.
“Tell me you’re not planning to just go in and kill them all.”
“No, ma’am. Those who have devolved will be put down. The rest will be registered and allowed to stay on.”
“Registered?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s the only way to monitor their health.”
“You want to make sure they don’t go crazy.”
He nodded. “That’s right.”
“What else must be done besides dealing with the infected? I imagine getting the bodies out will be a nightmare.”
“Indeed. Massive cleanup teams will come in behind the combat force to get rid of the bodies.”
“How exactly?”
“We’re planning to use mobile incinerators.”
“We can’t bury them?”
He shook his head.
“Okay, she said. “So, I’ll ask again—how long will it take to clear the three cities?”
“Our best guess is four months.”
“That long?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s important that we get them cleared before winter arrives. But understand that four months refers only to the time to clear the city and ensure that they are habitable.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that they will no longer function as modern cities.”
“Go on.”
“We’ll have to ration food, water, and fuel. Beyond that, these new colonies, for lack of a better term, will function like huge bazaars in which people must trade goods and services.”
“You’re telling me that, in many ways, these people will still be on their own.”
He nodded. “That’s right. Life won’t be easy, but it should be better than it is now.”
“Will they have electricity?”
“No, ma’am. That’s still some time off.”
She shook her head, clearly disappointed.
“And this is the best we can do?”
He gave her an understanding smile.
“We’ll try to do better.”
“If I’m hearing you correctly, even if this operation is successful, the entire United States will be reduced to a few colonies. What about the rest of the country?”
“It will remain much like it is today.”
“Lawless, in other words.”
“While some of the country is indeed lawless,” interjected Jack, “other parts are being taken over by militias, warlords, cartels, and religious cults.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better, Jack.”
“No, ma’am.”
She sat quietly for a moment, thinking.
“It’s going to take some time. That’s what you’re all really telling me, isn’t it?”
All three men nodded.
General Carr added, “In a way, we’re like the early Roman Empire, hoping to spread our influence across a violent continent. And you know what they say...”
She smirked. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
Vice President Pike could almost feel Yumi Tanaka’s naked breasts pressing against his back, her sharp fingernails digging into his shoulders. She had left more than two hours earlier, sneaking away when there was little chance of her being discovered, but the perfumed smell of her body had not yet left his bed.
Their relationship continued to deepen, which was both comforting and troubling to him. On the surface, it was driven by a nearly insatiable desire, but hidden beneath were undeniable feelings. He found it odd that they never spoke of such things, but he thought he knew why. For one thing, he was much older than Yumi, and both surely recognized the fleeting nature of their relationship. Also, the truth was that he didn’t want to love Yumi, nor, he suspected, did she want to love him. They were both users in every sense of the word. But somewhere along the way, and purely by accident, their souls had brushed a little too closely, and a bond had been formed. So fight it or not, every time she stepped into the room, he felt his stomach tighte
n and his heart skip a beat. He accepted that it was childish and stupid, but also completely out of his control.
Even the memory of Yumi’s touch, however, was not enough to relieve Pike’s worry. He tossed and turned, struggling to clear his mind. Insomnia was the first of many physiological symptoms that he experienced when plans went awry. And things had definitely gone awry. Problems had plagued him from the very beginning. The kidnapping of the President’s daughter, Samantha, had gone terribly wrong when her bodyguard threatened to expose their plan. The subsequent air attack was botched, and the girl not only walked away, but managed to find a traveling companion who rivaled Spartacus.
Agent Sparks, one of General Hood’s most trusted men, was still looking for the girl. Once he managed to pick back up her embedded transponder signal, he should be able to make short work of the problem. But he had already missed her twice. Who was to say that she wouldn’t elude him a third time—or a fourth? Samantha was wily if nothing else.
Then there was the attack on Glynco. According to General Hood, that was the only operation that had gone off without a hitch. The marshals had been easily dispatched and the weapons seized. Within hours, the rifles should be arriving in Lexington and delivered to Lenny Bruce, a zealot who was building his own version of a utopian society, known as Fresh Start.
Lenny was smart and charismatic, someone who could win most arguments with words. When that failed, however, he was not above sending someone over with a pair of pliers to ensure that his point of view was better appreciated. Lenny had held many stations in life, including city councilman, tent evangelist, and white supremacist.
He had managed to recruit nearly a thousand men, mostly convicts, but the community was quickly attracting families with nowhere else to turn. By all accounts, he was a true believer, a man who saw a brighter future now that the country’s government had all but disintegrated. For his vision to come to fruition, however, what remained of the corrupt establishment had to be put down. That was how he fit into Pike’s plans.
Lenny was not so different from the mercenaries that General Hood had contracted. He would fight against the establishment, embarrassing President Glass and making it clearer with each passing day that she was losing control of what little remained of the nation. When she was finally out of office, either by having stepped down or by being forced out, Pike would lead the country back to its former greatness.
The thing that bothered him about the Glynco attack was that he had not yet been briefed. The murders had surely been discovered by now, which could only mean that President Glass was intentionally keeping it from him. But why? The reality of it was that she was keeping him at arm’s length on a number of things. It occurred to him that isolation was her weapon of choice. She might be unwilling to confront him directly, but like every woman he had ever met, she was perfectly capable of giving him the cold shoulder.
Equally disturbing was that General Hood, the Head of Special Operations Warfare, had also been kept in the dark. Given his position and the use of chemical weapons in the attack, Hood should have been brought in from the very beginning. His exclusion meant that President Glass, or perhaps her Secretary of Defense, General Carr, was growing more suspicious, more careful.
But Pike was certain that suspicion was all it was. There was no connection between the attack and either himself or General Hood. The weapons had been hidden away for decades, a trail so cold that no one could uncover it. And any investigation of the attack would point to a shadowy group of mercenaries—yet another violent act of forces battling for control. In the unlikely event that the mercenaries were ever found, General Hood would make sure that they were obliterated and unable to implicate him.
All Pike needed to do was continue working behind the scenes to set the stage for his ascension to power. Just as Napoleon had been welcomed by turmoil-ridden France, so too would he be called upon to bring order to a post-apocalyptic America.
CHAPTER
10
Samantha was dreaming about being a rabbit chased by a hungry fox when a hand squeezed her shoulder. Startled, she abruptly sat up.
“Huh? What?”
“You thirsty?” asked Tanner.
She looked around. The sun hadn’t quite come up yet, but it would be light soon.
“Very,” she said, swallowing.
“Come on, then. I’ll show you how to get some water.” He handed her a couple of the empty beer cans with the tops cut off. “You’ll need to take off one of your socks.”
“My socks? Why?”
“Just do it,” he said, pulling off his own boot.
She did as he instructed, taking off one of her socks and then slipping her boot back onto her bare foot.
“Now, follow me,” he said.
When they got to the edge of the campsite, he squatted down and rubbed his sock across a large patch of green clover.
“Feel,” he said, holding out the sock.
She touched it. “It’s wet.”
“It’s dew.” He set one of the beer cans on the ground and squeezed the sock over it. A few drops of water dripped into the can.
“That’ll take forever,” she said.
“We’ll see.”
Without another word, they got busy mopping their socks across plants of every sort, collecting the moisture that had condensed as the temperatures cooled through the night. To Samantha’s surprise, by the time the sun started peeking over the trees, they had managed to fill all four cans.
She held up one and examined the water. It was mostly clear, but several small twigs and plants floated on the surface.
“Is it safe to drink?” she asked, sniffing it.
“Maybe. But let’s boil it to be safe.”
She looked pointedly at his sock.
“Good idea.”
They set the cans of water in the campfire’s hot embers, and their socks on a rock nearby to dry. Before long, the water began to bubble. Tanner used his sock like an oven mitt to pull the cans out of the fire pit and set them on the rock to cool.
“By the time the water cools, it’ll be safe to drink.”
“Where’d you learn all this stuff?” she asked, sitting down to put her sock back on.
“The question is what have you been learning?”
“What do you mean?”
“Somewhere along the way, people became too dependent on the comforts of the system. Hardly anyone knows how to find water, work the land, or catch their own food. Humans have forgotten what it takes to survive on good old Mother Earth.”
“And that’s important?”
“You tell me.”
She pondered on it for a moment, watching the steam rise off the water.
“I guess it is now.”
Tanner gave her the thumbs up.
A thought tickled her, and she giggled.
“What?” he asked.
“I always thought of you as my protector. But in a weird way, you’re sort of my teacher too.”
He smiled. She was finally getting it.
Tanner kicked dirt over the last of the smoldering embers.
“You ready?” he asked.
Samantha took one last look at their campsite and nodded.
“Yeah. Let’s go find breakfast.”
“Cheerios?”
She grinned. “Froot Loops.”
He looked up at the sky to get his bearings, and then spun slightly to the left and pointed at the forest.
“North would be that way.”
They walked steadily and with a sense of purpose for a good hour, up and down sloping hills covered in dense growth. Without anything larger than a pocketknife at their disposal, they were forced to push their way through thick brambles covered with thorns as sharp as fishing barbs. By the time they finally broke out into a wide clearing, they were bleeding from a dozen scratches on their hands, arms, and faces.
Ahead of them lay an open stretch of farmland nest
ed in a shallow valley. The valley easily spanned a mile from north to south and many more than that from east to west. The interstate was visible a few hundred yards off to their left, and they could see the outline of a small town about a mile ahead.
Tanner pointed in the direction of the town.
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