Standing Before Hell's Gate

by William Alan Webb

  “The day promises to be a great one,” the young man said.

  “Do you know something I don’t, Sati?”

  “I don’t understand why you say that, Uncle. Already today we discovered an infidel in our midst.” He pointed at the woman. “The army is in the field and ready to fight, we have refreshed ourselves in cool, clean water found in the middle of the desert, and now our blessed prophet is among us. What more can we ask for?”

  How about a cold beer? el Mofty thought, although what he said was quite different. “You have the optimism of youth, Sati. It’s why I value having you near me. Come, let us welcome my brother, your other uncle.”

  In the nearby parking lot, a knot of his officers and counselors surrounded a faded green International Harvester Scout. As with most pre-Collapse vehicles, it had been heavily modified and used an aircraft engine in place of the original V-8. A dozen other vehicles surrounded the Scout and armed men in green uniforms kept the crowd away.

  The Emir pushed through the high officials and stood beside the right rear passenger door. Seconds later, the stocky figure of the Caliph climbed out of the car to a round of applause. Clothed in loose white cotton pants and a white shirt, wearing sandals, he smiled and nodded and hugged his brother, and then shook the hand of every man there. After a few minutes of back slapping and well-wishing, he invited his brother to join him away from the crowd for a private conversation. Both men smiled and laughed as they strolled fifty yards from the others, far enough they couldn’t be overheard.

  With no one to hear them, the Caliph reverted to his real identity of Larry Armstrong. “What the fuck are you doing? You move ten thousand men into hostile territory, with a definite target in mind, and then stop and go swimming? What the hell, Richard!”

  “Fuck you, Larry, but I’m not gonna make the same mistake I made last year. You goaded me into moving west before I was ready and look where it got us. I’m not doing that again.”

  “I didn’t goad you into anything.”

  “The fuck you didn’t. Look, I’ve got patrols out doing recon all the way into central Arizona, because this time I want to know what’s in front of me before I fight. I’d think you’d want that, too. Let me wait on their reports and then I’ll move on Shangri-La. It’s not going anywhere. I’ve spent all winter training this army to fight and it will fight, and this time it’s going to win.”

  “I hope like hell they can, but honestly, they don’t look much like an army to me.”

  “If I say they can fight, they can fight.”

  “All right, Richard, I’ll let it slide for a while. But we’re not getting any younger and by the end of summer I want southwestern Arizona in our hands, got that? By the end of summer.”

  “Phoenix, too?”

  “No, we avoid Phoenix until we learn what happened there, but the rest of it, all the way to the California and Nevada borders, that I want.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll have it.”

  “I’d better. Who were all those people I saw in the field beside the driveway to this place?”

  “Christians, Jews, Mexicans, even a few Muslims, everybody who wouldn’t convert. Instead of stoning them this year, I brought ’em up here to use as human shields.”

  “There’s a fucked-up idea. How much did they slow you down? And how much are they eating on this march? Damn it, Richard, if you had a brain, you’d be dangerous.”

  “I’m getting tired of you picking on me, Larry. I sent them ahead before the main column left, so they haven’t slowed us down at all. And we’re not feeding them one more crumb than they would have gotten anyway. You got no cause to be pissed off.”

  “Fine, just stop whining. Now that they’re here, we might as well get some use out of them. But not the Muslims. Punish them some other way. It looks bad.”

  “What does our beloved New Prophet suggest?”

  Larry Armstrong shrugged. “You can’t crucify a Muslim, so cut off a head. That’s always popular.”

  #

  Chapter 1

  Fools don’t hunt deer, fools hunt tigers.

  Xiang Weh, circa 600 B.C.

  Overtime Prime

  1410 hours, April 22

  For Tom Steeple, the worst part was the boredom. There was absolutely nothing to do except stare at the rough-hewn stone walls of his cell. No TV, movies, books, music, nothing. Nick Angriff could have given him any of that, but hadn’t. It wouldn’t have cost him anything, but Nick the Asshole wanted to make him suffer. The lack of mental stimuli was maddening, but he would never give that prick the satisfaction of showing it.

  The latter part of Steeple’s career had been spent as a man in the center of a whirlwind of activities, all of which had had grave importance to the world. Whether writing and coordinating reports during his time in Personnel at the Pentagon, or making decisions on new weapons systems or talking to Congressmen or briefing multiple presidents on military matters and recommending courses of action which had had profound impacts on human history… for more than two decades, he’d been someone of utmost importance. A man could get addicted to wielding such power, and Steeple had. But all of that was gone. Now, he could only lie on his bunk and stare at the shadows cast by the bare LED bulb overhead.

  He had managed to calm his mind into thinking about nothing when scratching at the door roused him. Getting up on one elbow, he craned his neck. The door swung inward and a man in wrinkled denim work pants and a coarse light blue shirt entered his cell. He wore scuffed black work boots.

  “Do I know you?” Steeple said, swinging his legs off the bunk and sitting up straight.

  “We’ve never met,” the man said, extending his hand. “But you put me here. I’m Norris McComb, I’m a foreman in Jamaya Diloub’s construction group.”

  “Of course,” Steeple replied, shaking hands. “Jamaya’s a good man.” He stood up, smiling, trying to remember everything he could about Jamaya Diloub. It wasn’t much. “How is he doing?”

  “He’s fine, General, but look, we don’t have much time. The guard changes in thirty minutes and I’ve gotta be long gone by then. There’s not many of us left now and we can’t risk being found out.”

  “I understand… may I ask, who is us?”

  “Rabota sdelayet vas svobodnymi. We shorten it to RSVS.”

  “The Stalinists…”

  “Stalin was a great leader.”

  “I’m not sure all the people he killed would agree.”

  “He didn’t back off doing what needed to be done. Russia was a medieval country that he turned into a modern world power in less than thirty years.”

  “Angriff said you were here.”

  “I was Bettison’s backup for flipping the switch to connect the comms with Comeback, only he got there first.”

  “How many of you are left?”

  “Five, counting me. That bastard Green Ghost and his crew got the rest of us. Rita almost got Angriff on day one, but… well, look, there’s time for that later. What I need to know from you is, if we get you out of here, are you with us?”

  Steeple had assumed his familiar posture when listening to proposals brought to him by people asking for his help. Head tilted slightly down, narrow shoulders squared, hands clasped behind his back. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “It means we need a strong leader who realizes that rebuilding America can’t be done the way it was the first time. No democracy, no republic, none of that crap. It doesn’t work.”

  “You’re talking about a dictatorship,” Steeple said, his voice rising with genuine surprise. “You’re actually suggesting that.”

  “Call it what you want, but initially it’s the only way. Maybe later we can reconstitute some sort of republic, but in the meantime, we need a leader who’s not afraid to build a better country, a man with strong organizational skills and the drive to finish what he starts. Operation Overtime is a testament to your ability to do exactly that… that’s why you’re the man for the job. But I need to know
right now, the guards could change at any minute, and getting you out of here will take some planning. What d’ya say?”

  “Angriff will never stand down for this. As long as he’s here, it’ll never work. It sounds like you don’t have enough resources to fail again, so we’ve got to be very careful.”

  “You’re in?”

  “Of course I’m in.”

  “Angriff’s leaving.”

  “What? When? How long will he be gone?”

  “Tomorrow. He was supposed to go today, but they couldn’t get everything together that fast. He’s going along with a relief column heading up to Sierra Depot.”

  “This is all news to me. What’s at Sierra? That’s a long way from here.”

  “There’s no time to fill you in now, General.”

  “Is Fleming in charge while he’s gone?”

  “Fleming is at Sierra.” Despite the lack of time, McComb gave Steeple a thirty-second run-down of the latest events at Creech and Sierra.

  As he spoke, Steeple tapped his front teeth again and started pacing in a circle. “Who’s in charge while he’s gone?”

  “Colonel Saw.”

  Steeple stopped circling and grinned. “Chain Saw? Perfect. You’re right, McComb, this is the time to act.”

  “I’ve gotta leave now, General, but I’ll be back as soon as I can to get you out of here.”

  “No!”

  “The guard could change any second now.”

  “I don’t care. I’m in charge now, so listen! You said you have access to sub-floor eleven?”

  “Yeah.”

  “On a shelf in the far left corner, there’s a wooden box marked flares. Take the top off and look for a small sliding bit of wood underneath it. Inside you’ll find a key. Take that key into the shaft with the switch, the one you had to climb down to link Comeback with Overtime. Do you remember how to do that?”

  “Yes, hurry!”

  “Right beside the switch, there’s a dark little hole. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s a keyhole. Use that key to open the door there and bring me what’s inside.”

  “What if I get caught?”

  “Bring it!”

  “At least tell me what it is.”

  “It’s a satellite phone. To pull this off, we’re going to need help.”

  “Should I tell Colonel Saw?”

  “No, not yet.” Not until I have a backup plan, Steeple thought. Saw might like being in charge too much to give it up.

  #

  Chapter 2

  The Dark Man returned on a moonless night.

  His black form drank the wan starlight;

  “I know your spirit as I know your might,

  “And despite your might, and your will to fight,

  “To no avail you’ll fight for right.

  “In the end you’ll fall and feel death’s bite.”

  Sergio Velazquez, from “The Dark Man”

  Operation Overtime

  1932 hours, April 22

  “I have never seen anything like your office, Nick,” Janine said. They stood on the catwalk on the side of the mountain, accessible from the small door at the right side of the Clam Shell. “It looks like you are commanding a space ship in the movies, not a cavalry brigade.”

  “It takes some getting used to, that’s for sure.” Angriff eyed her as he could only eye his wife. She leaned against the restraining lattice work and shivered from a sudden wind. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her neck. “But some things you never forget.”

  Her voice dropped an octave. “Mmm… so I see.” He started to kiss her neck but stopped when she started coughing.

  It went on long enough for him to let go and turn her around. “You all right?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said with a tiny laugh. “Who knows what I am allergic to in this infernal desert?”

  “It’s getting a little chilly out here, too.”

  “Nonsense, Nick, I’m fine. I probably inhaled some cactus pollen, that’s all. Now, where were we?”

  He kissed her once on the cheek and then patted her shoulder. “I was about to go inside and go over a few million last minute details, and you were about to go back to our quarters and lie down.”

  “Oh, I was, was I?”

  “Don’t make me make you,” he said, smiling and looking deeply into her face. She looked tired, and… frail. One thing Janine Angriff had never been was frail. “I want you to see Dr. Friedenthall while I’m gone, okay?”

  “I do not need—”

  He cut her off. “I know you don’t, but humor me, just this once.”

  She coughed again but stopped herself with a visible effort. “I’ll go, but you cannot make me like it. Oh, Cynthia said she might drop in later.”

  “Oh. Sure, great.” He tried to remember when his youngest daughter had ever shown up at his office, anywhere, by herself. “Did she say why?”

  When his wife smiled, Angriff again saw the girl he’d fallen in love with at first sight.

  “Nick, I know you are a general of the finest sort, but when it comes to being a father, you are downright blind.”

  #

  2109 hours, April 22

  Dennis Tompkins saw Angriff rubbing his eyes and debated going in or leaving without saying anything, but it wasn’t in his character to just run off and not tell his CO. Especially not now. “Got a minute, Nick?”

  “Sure, come on in. Want some coffee?”

  “No, thanks, I’ll be up ’til next week if I have coffee this late. And at my age, it’s hard to get rid of it again. People say you only rent coffee and beer, but I think I’ve signed a long-term lease.”

  That drew a chuckle. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I know you’re fixin’ to head out yourself…”

  “Yeah, 0600 hours on the dot. I’m already worried because we had to push it back a day. Why?”

  “Nick, I hate to bother you as you’re headin’ out the door, but, well…”

  “Whatever it is, the answer is yes, unless it involves you getting shot at.”

  “Me and the boys need to get out of here for a while. We’re thinking about borrowing some of the spare horses and riding up north into Utah. There’s some pretty country up there.”

  “You’re just thinking about it?”

  “Now that you mention it, no. We’re pretty much decided on doing it.”

  “May I ask why? I’d think after fifty years in the wilderness, you’d never leave civilization again, so why do it?”

  “Now that’s a harder question to answer. Don’t get me wrong, we’re all damned grateful to you for saving us and we’re all in on Overtime. But I’ll be 82 this year and a couple of the boys are a little older than me. We ain’t gonna be around too much longer and I reckon we just wanna go for one more ride while we still can… plus it won’t hurt to have eyes on what’s going on up in Utah.”

  “No, it won’t hurt a bit. I just wish the timing was different, what with me pulling out in the morning.”

  “I’ll stay if you need me to.”

  “I hate the idea, Dennis, but I’m not going to forbid it. Sure, since Norm is gone I’d feel a lot better if you were here at Overtime, but I get it. Take whatever you need, including a long-range radio. I insist on that. That way, you can let us know if you’re in trouble, or if you run into something I should know about.”

  “That’s a deal, Nick.”

  “And plenty of ammo.”

  “That you ain’t gotta tell me.”

  “How many Humvees do you want? Two?”

  “We’re, uh… we’re gonna ride.”

  “Horses? You mean you were serious about that?”

  Tompkins’ chin dipped. “Yeah.”

  “You’re out of your mind.”

  “Probably.”

  “What the hell, you don’t need me to hold your hand… go on, then, before I change my mind. Or before I stick you behind this desk and I take off for Utah with your buddie
s.”

  #

  2251 hours

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  Angriff looked up from his computer screen. “Cynthia, your mom said you might drop by. Sweetie, is everything all right?”

  His youngest daughter looked a lot like Morgan, but where Morgan had an athletic, tomboyish quality, Cynthia carried herself more like a dancer. Her upturned nose had the same pixie quality as her sister’s, and the line of her jaw was delicate, like her mother’s. Unlike her sister, Cynthia didn’t have to fit her head into a helmet, so her blonde hair spilled halfway down her back.

  She sniffed and gave him a chastising frown. “You’ve been smoking.” She started coughing and he was instantly on alert.

  But then he realized she was faking it to protest his smoking. “It’s my office. So is everything all right?”

  “Yeah, sure. It’s just that the way Morgan described this place made it sound so futuristic, I wanted to check it out for myself. Look. At. That. View!” She wheeled and nearly ran into the side of the office glass, staring out the blast windows onto the moonlit desert below.

  “It’s amazing, isn’t it? There’s also a small platform outside, on the face of the mountain itself. I’ll take you out there sometime.”

  “Now?” She was barely out of her teens and still had a childish charm to her smile.

  “I’m a little busy right now. How about when I get back?”

  She stuck out her lower lip the same way she’d done as a child. It was a playful exaggeration of a pout that he’d rarely been able to deny. Both of his daughters knew how to play him. Just as he was about to cave and take her out to the platform, Corporal Diaz appeared in the doorway with Corporal Dupree behind him.

  Cynthia arched her eyebrows in a pouty expression that her sister had never mastered. “Did you send him a signal?”

  “I swear I didn’t, sweetie.”

  “I can come back,” Diaz said when he realized he’d interrupted them.

  “No need, Corporal. We’ll do it when you get back, Dad.”