Someday Soon

by Brandon Zenner

  “Third regiment, of the dockworkers, sir.” His fingers played with the rifle sling over his chest. “They, um … it doesn’t appear they escaped. They were freed … sir.” The man looked at the ground.

  “They … were … what?” Not once had those words been uttered by a member of his army. Freed. Freed! The pain in his temples radiated across his skull, and his vision throbbed crimson strobes. “Liam?” he said, looking across the way to his second in command.

  “Sir?”

  “Find out who exactly is responsible. Tie them up in the”—he spat to his side—“freed prisoners’ place. Give them a few hours to think about how their actions brought them to that juncture, and give the rest of the troops an opportunity to witness their punishment. Then string them up to the wall.”

  “Yes, sir.” Liam turned to the shaky soldier. “Come on, lead me to ’em.”

  Karl left and walked across Hightown, rubbing the bridge of his nose, until he neared his home overlooking the bay and the wide ocean beyond. He was quickly through the front door and up the steps. For a moment he paused outside his bedroom and closed his eyes, hand wavering over the handle. He breathed in the familiar warm scent of the interior, then turned to the door opposite the hallway and felt his pockets for the key to the padlock. The plan was to bring his trophy back to Alice before morning, but the throbbing in his temples called for rest. Tomorrow he would parade the prisoner down the streets. What he would do after, Karl didn’t know. Execute him, perhaps. Force him to work the gardens, although it was best to keep the man’s wicked tongue away from the eager ears of the fellow prisoners. The last thing Karl needed was for the detainees to have any sliver of hope. The jails would suffice for now, keeping his prize locked away deep down in the dismal underground, alone in the pitch-black.

  The thought brought a thin smile to his lips.

  With the padlock removed, Karl opened the door. It was cavernous inside. He groped the wall for the light switch, happy that the house still had flowing electricity, warmth, despite his preference for sleeping outdoors. The prisoner’s chains had been purposely made short enough so that he couldn’t reach the light switch, or come close to the door or barred windows. With the lights on, Karl inspected the bolt attached to the floor, trailing the chain locked around the man’s ankle. The wood around the thick nut was scratched, stained with pale streaks of red. A futile task, with the thick screw extending all the way past the downstairs ceiling and clamped on tight.

  A sweet fragrance hit his nostrils, and he saw a food tray with a browned apple core on the dresser nearby. Another smell was obvious: that of the bedpan and stale sheets.

  “Did I wake you? You look well,” Karl lied in a meek tone. The man stared back at him from the bed, his eyes hollow and dark, his hair wild, his cheeks sunken.

  Exhaustion was taking away from this moment which Karl had longed to savor, but still he said with a smile, “It pleases me to inform you that Alice has fallen, and rather easily so. The town is now under my control, and in the morning, I will personally lead you down the avenues so you can witness the takeover firsthand, and the townspeople can witness yours. Sleep well, sir.”

  The man said nothing. The red wound around his ankle from the cuff was visible from across the room. Karl turned and left, first shutting the lights, and then padlocking the door shut.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Full Speed

  Simon found Bethany, Carolanne, Connor, and Winston after dark. They’d been taken to a medical tent, despite Carolanne arguing that they were fine, and given cots beside each other. They were eating MREs from a tray as Simon navigated through the orderly rows of bunks. It occurred to him that more than half of the mattresses were vacant—a sure sign of things to come.

  When he got closer, he gave a quick whistle and his dog’s head spun around, a plate in front of him licked clean. It was tough watching Winston struggle to his feet, and his heart broke as his old dog’s tail wag so frantically at seeing him.

  There’s so much love inside him.

  He scratched Winston behind his ear, and after a dozen licks at his palm, but mostly hitting the air, Winston curled back up in a ball, going around and around like a corkscrew before tucking his face near his hind quarters.

  “Hungry?” Carolanne asked. “You can use my tray; I’m finished.”

  Simon nodded and took a seat beside Connor on the cot. He took an MRE from a box and opened the various pouches. “You want my cookie?” he asked Connor.

  The boy looked up. “You’re not going to eat it?”

  Simon shook his head. “Nah, not that hungry.” He squeezed a pouch of beef in barbeque sauce on the tray and found a miniature bottle of hot sauce packed along with it. He took a bite. Horrible stuff. The thought of roasting wild game over a fire made his stomach ache for real food … roasted acorns … maple syrup dripped straight from the tree … those tomatoes in Alice’s garden, so red and warm, the juices exploding from the skin when bitten into.

  Bethany sat beside him, her gaze burning into the side of his face. He didn’t want to say it; he wished someone else had already told them of the colony’s plan.

  Finally, Beth said, “Well?”

  He placed the tray on his knee. “It’s begun. A large scouting party left a few hours ago, and the rest of the army will be following around midnight. They’ll attack Alice first and then Hightown.”

  “What about us?” Bethany asked.

  “How are they going to rescue the prisoners?” Carolanne asked.

  He paused, and then said, “They’re not going to rescue the prisoners—”

  “Wait, what do you mean?” Bethany’s tone was almost accusing.

  “It’s …” Simon sighed. “They’re writing off the colonies.”

  “Writing them off? What the fuck does that mean?”

  Simon turned to Bethany. “The decision was made before we arrived. I had nothing to do with it. Alice and Hightown … they’re going to be destroyed. Bombed and burned to the ground. Their ambition is to kill each and every member of the Red Hands, indiscriminately. Karl Metzger and all of the officers are believed to still be in Alice, so that will go first. The colonies will surround them from the north, so any of their retreating soldiers will be dealt with. Once Alice falls, they’ll turn northward and raze Hightown.”

  Carolanne stared at him with wide eyes, her mouth agape. “They’re going to let Brian die … they’re going to kill him.”

  “I-I don’t know. The police stations in both towns will be avoided during the bombings. If he’s been captive in the cells, there’s a chance he’ll be rescued.”

  Simon took a last bite of the MRE, leaving about a quarter of it on the tray. He placed it on the ground for Winston, who was all too happy to lap up the remaining slop. The rush of calories was making him feel sleepy, and his body was overcome by weariness.

  “And they expect us to sit around and do nothing,” Bethany said. “Fat fucking chance.”

  “No,” Simon replied. “We have a choice to make. The injured, children, or those unable to fight will begin the trek back to Albuquerque under escort. Jeremy gave me the option; we can leave, either with them or on our own. Or we can fight, and be there as the soldiers liberate the prisons.”

  “Then that’s right where I’ll be,” Bethany said.

  Simon nodded. “I told him as much. And I’ll be right beside you. They’re assembling an hour before dawn. I suggest we all get some rest, if that’s at all possible. We have a few hours before deployment.” Rest was entirely possible, for Simon at least. Despite the adrenaline, fear, and anxiety coursing through his veins, his mind and body were on the verge of shutting down.

  Simon looked at Connor, sitting on the cot opposite him, beside Carolanne. “I’m going to need you to do me a favor,” he said.

  The boy looked at him with his large brown eyes that had witnessed so much pain and destruction, a mouth covered in cookie crumbs that belonged to another era when happiness could exist
, and children could enjoy simple pleasures unhindered by the horrors of the world. “You want me to watch Winston?”

  Simon nodded. “That’s right. I need you to keep him safe.”

  Connor nodded and wiped his mouth with a sleeve.

  Simon stretched his legs out.

  “I don’t know how you’re going to sleep,” Bethany said, yet she lay beside him and rested her head on his chest. The cot was narrow for one person, let alone two, but being forced to hold her tight made him relax even more.

  “I may not,” Simon said. “Just going to shut my eyes.”

  He recited his mantras, trying not to imagine what the day ahead would bring. He might be dead before the afternoon. Bethany could die at his side, in which case, he didn’t know what he would do. After the battle on Nick’s lawn, he knew he was capable of doing terrible things to people. What if he snapped? What if she died?

  … he couldn’t think about that.

  He’d rather die first than see anything happen to her. At least Winston would be safe and well cared for. Connor would be all right too. Carolanne, though … she would never recover from losing Brian and Bethany, and the home she’d become accustomed to.

  As these terrible thoughts crossed his mind, he attempted to rein them in, for at least a short duration. Focus on your breathing, he told himself. In and out, and in and out …

  ***

  The weariness of the fighting, the traveling, had done a number on him. His mind had delved into a deep state of REM when a noise woke him, snapping him from the depths of unconsciousness. Shouting. He sat up fast, saw two people fighting beside him, wrestling. The generator had been extinguished, but the lights from the surgical wing shone out from the distance over the sea of awaiting cots. Simon grabbed his rifle from the ground beside him. Connor was sitting up in bed, watching. Winston was standing, his tail wagging, and he was … licking someone? Wait … they weren’t fighting, they were hugging, crying …

  Brian!

  Simon stood. “Brian, is that you?”

  Bethany stood, her hands covering her mouth.

  Brian embraced Carolanne, both of them crying into each other’s shoulder. They remained that way for many minutes, then began to kiss. They kissed more and more, and Simon wondered if he should take Connor away to give them some space, but then they went back to hugging.

  “I never thought I’d see you again,” Brian said, and then acknowledged Bethany and Simon. He stood and grabbed Bethany, then reached out and pulled Simon in, hugging them both tight. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”

  They separated, and Brian went back to Carolanne.

  “I-I’d said go-goodbye,” Carolanne said into her palms.

  Brian shook his head and tried to lighten her sadness. “They couldn’t kill me if they tried. And believe me, they tried plenty hard. If I was a cat, I’d of lost a few lives by now.”

  She hugged him tight. “How?” she said. “How are you here? Are you injured?” She began inspecting his face, chest, despite Brian protesting that he was fine.

  “I met some scouts on the way here; they said the battle is set to begin.”

  Simon looked at his wristwatch. “We’re assembling in a little over an hour.”

  Brian stood, reluctant to break Carolanne’s embrace. “I have to see Jeremy.”

  “Now?” Simon asked. “Why?”

  “It’s a long story. Come with me, I’ll tell you on the way.”

  Carolanne stood, wiping her face. Brian’s mouth opened, but she spoke first. “You just came back; I’m not staying behind.”

  He nodded. “All right. Simon, you know where he is?”

  “Probably the HQ tent. Come on.”

  On the way, Brian told them a rushed tale of his confinement, and quickened to the part about meeting Jacob and what the man had told him on the bank of the river.

  Bethany shook her head. “It’s not possible.”

  “Sure it is.”

  “No, it’s not. I was there, I saw the explosion.”

  “It was a ruse. They tricked us.”

  “But didn’t you see him?”

  “What I saw could have been anybody.”

  Soldiers were gathered around the front of the headquarters. Lieutenants and lower-ranking officers, going over maps and details. They squeezed past and entered the tent. The inside was even more packed, and cigarette smoke fogged the air. Simon led them through a throng of people, to a table in the rear. Jeremy was in the corner, speaking to General Schafer. As the group neared, Jeremy noticed them.

  “Simon,” he said. “Brian, is that y—”

  “He’s alive,” Simon blurted out.

  “I see that,” Jeremy said, reaching out to shake Brian’s hand.

  “No, not Brian—General Driscoll. He’s alive, in Hightown.”

  The cigarette on the edge of Jeremy’s lip sat there, looking ready to drop, then he said, “Wait, wait, wait … what?”

  “It’s true, sir,” Brian said, and told a rushed story.

  Jeremy ground his cigarette out in an ashtray. When Brian finished, Jeremy said, “I remember Jacob. He murdered his roommate, and then escaped from prison. Not surprised that he joined the Red Hands. I wouldn’t necessarily call him a reliable witness.”

  “He didn’t escape; Nick let him go.”

  Jeremy seemed to think it over, then said, “Not surprising.” He exchanged glances with General Schafer. “Still though, there’s no way to know if he’s telling the truth.”

  “I believe that he is, sir. He freed me. I would have died if not for him. And he told me more. Many of Karl’s soldiers, the ones recently acquired—it appears that they’re not following his orders as blindly as we’ve been led to believe.”

  “How so?”

  “They fell under Karl’s lies. But now they’re seeing past the smoke and mirrors. Jacob told me that they’re releasing more prisoners, without Karl’s authorization.”

  There was a pause, and then Jeremy said, “This could be a trick. They might have released you with all of this information to press us to attack Hightown and fail against the defenses. Maybe they have a trap set up. Who knows?”

  “The attack on Alice will be underway in less than an hour,” Simon interjected. “But it’s not too late to at least try to save the general.”

  “Simon,” General Schafer cut in. “It is too late. The bombardment begins in a half hour, and the troops are mustering for the ground assault. Albuquerque’s ships will be targeted first, along with the warship anchored in Hightown’s bay.”

  “So, begin there,” Simon said. “Sink the ships—just halt the invasion into Alice and Hightown, for at least a short while. Give us time to send a detachment in to rescue General Driscoll. Let us see if the prisoners were actually released.”

  “Releasing the prisoners could be a diversion, a tactic of theirs,” General Schafer said. “And a direct assault to rescue General Driscoll is out of the question.”

  Jeremy pulled another cigarette from the pack with his teeth. “But a smaller operation is possible.”

  Simon nodded. “I’ll go in, alone.”

  “Like hell you are,” Bethany said, stepping forward. “He’s my uncle. I’ll be damned if I’m expected to sit aside while there’s a chance of saving him.”

  Jeremy nodded.

  Brian sighed audibly and looked to Carolanne while holding her hand. “I’m sorry—” he began to say, but Carolanne cut him off. “I know what you’re going to say,” she said. “You’re going.”

  He nodded.

  Jeremy lit the cigarette and said, “Let’s make the plans then.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Drowning in Flames

  Someone was saying his name. Shouting his name. Calling him out of the deep unconsciousness. Dreams swam in his mind, flashed before his eyes, and turned into a nightmarish arm of some mythical god entering from above in the dark void, ripping him from the comfortable womb of the subconscious and back into the wo
rld of the living.

  Karl’s eyes snapped open, but it took a moment for him remember his surroundings. A mattress lay beneath him. The room was dark. The voice calling his name … Liam?

  He sat up in bed, his head dizzy with fatigue; the years of fighting, marching, scrounging for food, surviving, all led him to succumb to weakness in that bed at that particular time. “What?” he said, his deep voice choppy. “What is it?” The light from the hallway shrouded Liam, casting him in shadow.

  “Sir, we’re under attack. We have to move—now.”

  It crossed Karl’s mind that he might still be sleeping. This could be a dream. His weary muscles yearned to lie back down on the warm mattress, pull the blanket up to his chin.

  “Sir!”

  Karl snapped to reality and threw the covers off. “What’s happening?” He pulled on his pants and slipped his feet in his boots as he met Liam at the doorway.

  “We’re under attack,” Liam said. “We have to go.”

  “I understand, Mister Briggs.” He turned and closed the door. “What’s happening?”

  “Warplanes, sir. They—”

  “Warplanes?”

  “Jets, sir.” They walked fast down the hall to the stairs. “We heard them before we knew what it was we were hearing. Sounded like thunder, a bad storm over the water. But the thunder never stopped; it grew louder.”

  “Jesus, where the hell did they get jets? Where are they attacking?”

  “Louisiana’s fleet got hit first, and now they’re aiming at select locations inside Alice.”

  Karl eyed his watch; he’d only slept a few hours. His listless brain tried to rationalize the sudden entry of warplanes. “Why wasn’t I summoned at once?” he asked.

  “This just happened, sir. There was no warning.”

  Liam’s balance faltered for a step, and Karl knew that the man had been drinking, probably up until a few minutes ago. Celebrating with the men, despite the command to remain vigilant. This would be dealt with later. Without saying another word, they exited the house, cut across the lawn, and were quick to the communications station set in one of the warehouses. The signal had been given that an attack was imminent, and men swarmed around in urgency, their faces weary.