He removed his notes from his pocket and started reading verbatim.
“Mister Frank…
“I am terribly sorry for what I have done to you.
“I am sure that Josie and maybe some of the others have told you I do dumb things sometimes, on account of I’m not real smart.
“It is true. I do dumb things all the time.
“Sometimes people tell me it’s a wonder I’m still alive. I ask them how come and they say it’s because I do dangerous things like take off my clothes and go outside and play in the snow until all my body parts turn blue and stand on a ladder on top of a forklift and stuff like that.
“I don’t try to kill myself on purpose. I’m just not real good at thinking on account of I don’t do it that much.
“I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just playing on account of I like to play.
“On that day I hurt you I went back to my tent and I cried. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I really didn’t.
“It’s just that no one else here will play with me and I thought if you played with me I could talk you into being my friend.
“The reason I wanted you to be my friend is on account of I ain’t got any.
“So I was wondering, if you don’t mind, would you forgive me for hurting you on accident, and would you be my friend?”
Frank looked at Josie, whose eyes were a bit moist. She was seeing the real Eddie, the Eddie no one ever saw because they never looked past his outrageous behavior.
She nodded to Frank. She thought it was a good idea to take Eddie up on his offer.
Frank remembered something his favorite president once said. It’s good to keep your friends close and your enemies even closer.
He smiled broadly.
“Sure, Eddie. I’d love to be your friend. But no more swords, okay?”
“Okay! You bet!”
-52-
“Colonel Wilcox, you have a visitor.”
Wilcox fairly leapt from his bunk. He was anxious to talk to somebody… anybody, after not hearing another human voice in four full days.
Officers in grades O-5 and higher were confined in Administrative Segregation: a fancy term for solitary confinement.
It wasn’t necessarily because they were considered a danger or a high-risk prisoner.
Rather it was because many of the enlisted prisoners had a dislike for high-ranking officers.
Some of their grievances were real. High ranking officers oversaw the courts-martial which landed them in the brig.
Or they administered the “non-judicial punishment” which landed them there.
Other grievances were pure fantasy or not rooted in fact. Some saw high ranking officers as “the man,” or representatives of the establishment they’d come to hate.
In the same manner a judge or district attorney who went to prison would be housed away from the general population, the same was true of high ranking officers in a military prison or brig.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if the guards who came by to bring Wilcox’s food would utter a word now and then. But they were under strict orders not to communicate with him.
Three times a day the trap door on his cell door would drop open. Wilcox would place his empty food tray from the previous meal into the slot, and in turn would get another tray full of what the kitchen called “food.”
Not a word, not a grunt, not a cough from the guard.
The silence was maddening.
A visitor… any visitor… was welcome.
A man came down the corridor, escorted by one of the guards.
Wilcox had never seen the man before. But based on his dress: service dress uniform decked out with all his ribbons and medals, he guessed him to be a lawyer.
The briefcase in his hand was a dead giveaway.
The guard opened the cell’s door and let the man in. Prohibited by law from listening in, he walked to the end of the corridor and awaited the pounding on the cell door that would indicate the visitor was ready to leave again.
Salutes are not in order when indoors, except when officially reporting in.
The visitor instead offered his hand to the colonel.
“Good afternoon, sir. I’m Captain Wright from the Area Defense Counsel.”
“Thank you for coming, Captain. I assume you’re my counsel?”
“That I am, sir. I’m sure you’ve got a thousand questions of me. Why don’t we start by getting them out of the way first, then I’ll let you know what we’re up against.”
“What are they charging us with, Captain Wright?”
“Treason against the United States of America under a national emergency.”
Wilcox nodded. He’d expected as much.
“What is the maximum penalty?”
“Normally it’s life in prison. However, the Manual for Courts Martial provides for a death penalty under two circumstances.
“One is during wartime.
“The other, I’m sorry to say, is during a national emergency.”
“Should I dare ask?”
“Yes, sir. The Chief of Staff has already gone on record he wants to seek the death penalty. He says he wants to set an example to discourage others from assaulting his bunker again.”
Again, he was not surprised. He’d never met General Mannix before their encounter outside the bunker. But the general struck him as a man who took no guff and offered no quarter.
“And what is the process should we be found guilty? Are we transferred to Fort Leavenworth until the thaw? Do we get executed by lethal injection after all our appeals have been exhausted?”
The captain chose his words carefully.
“I’m afraid not, sir.
“You see, the government declared martial law ten years ago when Saris 7 struck and has never rescinded it. That was likely because the former president and his entire staff, including the highest-ranking members of the Department of Defense, were all killed in the Washington bunker. Irate citizens who didn’t know they were the continuity team murdered them all.
“If that hadn’t happened, in all likelihood martial law would have been rescinded when the thaw came. But that never happened.
“Add to that the fact that we’re under a national emergency situation, and… well, those two things added together are a major game changer.
“The Air Force Chief of Staff, under those conditions, has a right under the MCM to allow a death penalty case. And he has made it very clear that’s what he wants.
“Not only that, but provisions allow for a speedy execution of sentence, without clear grounds for appeal. And since the United States Military Court of Appeals is inactive for the duration of the freeze, there’s no place to submit an appeal anyway.”
“That being the case, shouldn’t the sentence be stayed until the Military Court of Appeals is reconstituted after the thaw?”
“Normally that would be the case.
“But not during a declared national emergency or war.”
“Who is the convening authority?”
“Mannix has directed a two-star general to fly in from Hill Air Force Base in Utah. A Major General Stephens. Do you know him?”
“Never heard of him. How is he able to fly in weather like this?”
“The weather has cleared temporarily and the runways at Hill and here have been plowed. The general told him to get here quick, before it starts snowing again.”
Wilcox sat on his bunk and placed his head in his hands.
He was in a mild state of shock.
How could his best intentions go so terribly wrong?
-53-
“Tell me sir, if you will, what your frame of mind was when you learned of the bunker.”
“I was angry. I mean, it was presented to me by a former patient who was injured in a helicopter crash. A crash that killed an Army colonel named Travis Montgomery.
“Apparently he was in charge of the growing and gathering operations that provided the bunker’s food stores.”
&nb
sp; “Growing and gathering operations?”
“They were gathering meat by scouring this part of Texas to find any livestock which had survived the first freeze.
“They had instructions to commandeer all livestock they came across. They were to say it was to feed the people of Bexar County and San Antonio. In reality it all went to a top-secret facility on the far reaches of the old Kelly Air Force Base.
“There the animals were allowed to breed; the females were artificially inseminated to facilitate that. They were fed as much feed and hay as they’d eat to help fatten them up. They were given growth hormones to maximize their weight.
“That was the gathering operation.
“At the same time they built huge greenhouses. They also converted some of the old C-5 aircraft hangars into greenhouses by replacing the roof panels with Plexiglas and using huge heaters to blow in hot air twenty-four hours a day.
“They grew fruits and vegetables at an amazing rate. Again, the people who donated their seeds or seedlings to the project were told it was to feed civilian survivors.
“But it was all bullshit. Every crop was dried or canned and placed inside the bunker.”
“Sir, you said you were told of the bunker by a former patient. What was his rank, and is he still alive?”
“She, not he. And she wasn’t in the military. She was a civilian. And I don’t have a clue where she is. I believe she said she lives west and north of here. Maybe in the Kerrville area.
I assume she’s still alive, but I don’t know her address or know how to contact her. And under the current weather conditions, even if I knew exactly where she lived it would be impossible to recall her.
“Why?”
“It goes to state of mind. If you were told, and believed, the people in the bunker had nefarious motives, and you didn’t know for sure who was in there, it could be used as a mitigating circumstance.
“At any time did anyone suggest to you, or did it occur to you, that the people in the bunker might have a lawful reason for being there?”
“No, to both. If I’d thought they were the team tasked to reconstitute and continue the government of the United States I’d have realized their importance. I’d have backed off.
“I just never saw past my rage to consider that possibility, I guess.
“What was the name of the civilian patient who told you about Colonel Montgomery and his operation?”
“Her name is Hannah Snyder. But what good is that? All she could possibly do is verify she told me. She didn’t know they weren’t using the bunker for nefarious means. She came to the same conclusion I did. And as a civilian, she probably wouldn’t have known the federal government has a duty to create and provide contingency plans for the continuity of the government.
“Yes, sir. But you say you don’t have a clue where to find her. And that could work to our benefit.”
“How so?”
“We could petition the court for a delay. A very long delay, until the thaw.
“We could say the testimony of Ms. Snyder is essential to back up your claim you were told the people in the bunker were bad people.”
“But wouldn’t that leave her in legal jeopardy?”
“No. She planted the thought in your mind but didn’t take action. She, as an American, is entitled to her personal opinion based on the facts at hand, and to voice those opinions under the first amendment.
“She never yelled ‘fire’ in a crowded theater and she never advocated or incited violence. Therefore she’s not subject to criminal action.
“However, the mere fact she planted that seed in your head would go to state of mind. It would show you truly believed, absence other evidence, that the people in the bunker were hoarding food and supplies that could be better utilized if shared with the base populace.
“And as the base commander, you had a duty to try to retrieve that food for the good of everyone assigned to the base.”
“And that’s our defense?”
“Yes, sir. That’s our defense.”
“And will it work?”
“I don’t know. I think there’s a good chance. But a lot of it will depend on whether they grant our delay.”
“Why?”
“We need time for everyone to cool off. Word is that General Mannix is chomping on nails and demanding heads roll for this. He’s angry because the cat’s out of the bag now and he’s afraid others will attempt to breach the bunker as people on the outside get more and more desperate.
“He’s demanding somebody be punished, severely and quickly, to deter others from taking their own shot.
“But if we can get a delay, saying we’re actively trying to find and subpoena our key witness, it should play to our advantage.
“Especially if we can delay until the thaw.
“The longer we wait until trial, the more time passes, the more it’ll be obvious to the panel that your breach of the bunker didn’t cause any real damage.
“Nobody died. Nobody was forced out of the bunker permanently. The people inside were still able to carry on their mission.
“And most importantly, General Mannix will have time to cool off. Maybe he’ll stop trying to exert undue pressure to convict and execute you and Colonel Medley.”
“And you think all of this will work?”
“I sure hope so, sir. Your life depends on it.”
-54-
The people of Eden had wanted to keep the old prison project a secret.
But they really sucked at keeping secrets.
Eight months before, when Hannah went to Marty Hankins and told him she believed another meteorite designated Cupid 23 might be headed toward the earth he scoffed.
“You can’t be serious,” he said.
“Oh, I’m deadly serious. What I can’t be is positive.”
He told her she wasn’t making any sense.
“There once was a second meteorite following Saris 7. It was smaller and slower and was called Cupid 23. Our scientists couldn’t agree whether it would follow Saris 7 all the way to earth or would assume its own path.
“And now NASA seems to have closed up shop. They’re no longer around to tell me whether that issue has ever been resolved.”
“What are you folks going to do about it?”
“We’re starting to restock the mine. So if the world gets cold again we’ll have a place to go.”
“And why are you telling me this?”
“Because we love you, you idiot. You and Glenna and a lot of other people in Eden we’ve come to know. And we wanted to warn you there’s a possibility of a second meteorite strike, in case you guys wanted to prepare for it.”
“Let me get this straight, Hannah. You want me to find a shelter big enough to accommodate all the people of Eden, to start gathering food and water and fuel and supplies to provide for those people for… how long this time?”
“Probably about three to four years.”
“You want me to find a shelter and stock it for three to four years. Seriously?”
“What else do you have to do to occupy all your free time, Marty? You can’t watch football or basketball anymore.”
“Good point. I’m in.”
The problem was, the only facility in or near Eden suitable for such a shelter was the abandoned state prison.
And it was quite literally on the main drag going through town.
At that point, just over a year into the thaw, there were plenty of people who got out and about every day.
People gathering provisions, mostly.
But also people going hunting, fishing, trapping, or searching for seeds and fertilizer and other materials they needed for their gardens.
Although most of the world had perished during the first freeze, there were dozens of out-of-towners who passed through Eden each and every day.
Most of them drove right past the old prison.
At the height of the gathering operation, Marty and his volunteer drivers entered the prison’s Sally
port with five to ten tractor trailer rigs per day.
The diesel tankers were dropped in the prison yard and left there.
The trailers were unloaded and then carted away again, abandoned on nearby highways or in the parking lot of the town’s only supermarket.
It had been abandoned for over nine years, so no one thought anyone would mind.
Many of the trailers looked alike, and therefore when empty they blended in quite well with the hundreds of other abandoned trailers in the area.
Some trailers were quite distinctive, though.
And some of the outsiders made note of those trailers they saw being towed into the prison, then later were found close-by completely empty.
Yes, the citizens of Eden were lousy at keeping secrets.
But it wasn’t their fault, really.
It would have been darned near impossible to keep outsiders from noticing someone was placing vast amounts of food and supplies into the abandoned prison, given its location on a main thoroughfare.
What the outsiders couldn’t figure out, exactly, was why.
The freeze was over. There was no longer a reason to prepare for a prolonged siege against the cold.
They didn’t know beans about Cupid 23, or Hannah’s contention it could well darken the skies and turn the world cold again.
Many of them asked the townsfolk.
They were told the State of Texas was going to reopen the prison to house many of the looters being arrested all over the state. And that they were stocking the kitchen to get it ready for the occupancy of up to five thousand convicts.
It sounded plausible. Especially when repeated by rote by several townspeople. Mayor Al made sure everyone was on the same page to tamp down any suspicions the town was up to something.
But by closer examination it didn’t pass the smell test.
By now it was common knowledge the justice system had broken down. None of the courts were operating anymore, because very few attorneys and judges had survived.
And everyone also knew looters weren’t even arrested anymore. Few police departments or sheriff’s offices were operational. And those which were saw looting as essential to survival. The stores were all empty now. And the abandoned trailers on the highways were considered fair game.
Final Dawn: Book 12: Where Could He Be? Page 17