The Life After War Collection

by Angela White

  They didn’t even have a doctor yet, and that they needed desperately. Especially him, now that he’d been with Tonya. The sated blond grinned at the delicious memory. It was wrong, bad, and damn, he’d enjoyed it! Revenge had been better than cold. It had been fiery.

  2

  Pulling on a heavy jacket with a fading eagle on the back, Adrian stepped out into the cold, windy darkness, grateful for the almost inviting smell of the salty wind. Even with a hint of shit, it was still heaven compared to the reeking odors of smoke, decay, and blood that now hung over the towns and cities.

  Eager to make his nightly rounds of the perimeter sentries, Adrian still took time to listen, hearing the soft murmur of voices and rustling of flaps. It told him his herd wasn’t settled yet, and he knew he wouldn’t return to his own rack until they were.

  He swept the sentries first. Listening for the others, he heard the almost constant crunch of booted steps as the Eagles prowled, sweeping the darkness. Adrian was sure few, if any, of his new army would slack off. He had chosen most of them because they seemed to understand it might be only one man’s dreams, but it was America’s future. They were nine-man teams of safety, of security, and he was teaching them as fast as he could.

  Adrian scanned the area again, spotting Dale again but none of the other new trainees. The other two were doing well. This new group of rookies was currently in the middle of individual challenges, and he allowed himself a rare, brief flash of pride at having made it this far with them. It was their final test to be full Level One Eagles in his army, and only his approval on this would pass them. He wasn’t just training a police force and the men involved were aware of that. Hopefully, it would be a long time before the main camp discovered it, though. Suspicions were running very high, thanks to dear old dad and his Freemason pals.

  Missing being able to view the moon and stars, Adrian ignored the glittering green eyes that watched him, burned holes into him from the female side of the tents. He slid a bright red bandana into his front pocket, leaving the ends dangling. Was the radio quiet? It hadn’t been last night, and understanding the words through the loud, violent storms raging around them had been nearly impossible. The screams had been clear enough, and it bothered him that he couldn’t help.

  There were other groups around. They heard people regularly on the CB pleading for help, and occasionally they spotted campfires. Those close enough he sought out quietly, leaving on supply runs with a few of the more promising guards and returning with survivors. Only those with him knew that he had planned it that way, down to the very last detail. They were part of his herd and he wanted them all.

  Adrian moved quietly to the north end of the half-mile wide camp, listening for any sound of the rookies following him. He wished he had ten more alert-minded men to put on sentry duty at night. Hell, another five observant bodies would help, would let him get four and a half hours of sleep a night instead of the three he was averaging as he struggled to get everything done–to keep his end of the deal. It was a strange, dangerous life, and while he didn’t baby the refugees, he did try to distract their attention from some of the things that might have caused rebellion–like training his army. He gave them soccer and football games, poker nights, and shooting contests, knowing that eventually they’d start feeling like Americans again. Once that happened, they would wake up to the unpleasant reality that it was going to be a very long trip, and they had to work together. It was slow going, with only a few exceptions.

  The guard on the north end of the dimly lit parking area was Doug, now fully recovered from his trial under the bridge. With red hair and a red vest under a raggedy green jacket, the six-foot-four Army veteran was hard to miss even in a crowd, but he was nowhere to be seen as Adrian stepped between the new and old, rusty and shiny, beat-up, or muddy vehicles. Doug may have been years out of service due to a small injury that had left him with a limp, but he was a great comfort to have around during this time of chaos.

  “Anything moving?” The blond leader was sure he had been heard despite the unguarded appearance of the dusty parking area, and he swept the tattered flags flapping in the heavy wind from nearly every antenna and door handle. That had been Kyle’s doing, he was sure.

  “Same as last night. Just the wind, my feet, and Tonya.”

  Despite the clear lineage, there was no Irish accent in Doug’s low voice, and Adrian watched him unfold from behind a small, blue Mustang.

  The big man lit a cigar and gave the boss a look but said nothing as he moved closer, leaving big boot prints in the gravel. Adrian had saved his life and taken him in, given him work that made him feel useful, but they both knew Doug wasn’t really a part of these people yet. He wasn’t comfortable enough to joke, let alone question, and so he didn’t.

  “Where was she going?”

  Doug stretched his wide shoulders, scanning the dark shapes of sickly fir trees that lined the taped off area. He kept his left hand in his pocket, the nerves jumpy, twitching slightly. He wasn’t sure if the hard leader would pull him off duty for it or not, but he wasn’t taking the chance. “Her tent, I think. She pissed again?”

  Adrian met Doug’s gaze with a small smile of male satisfaction that the big man would recognize. “Isn’t she always?”

  Doug grinned, nodded, and kept a tight leash on his mouth. Adrian knew his story. Doug had only joined the service to keep from being just another Irish potato farmer in Idaho, but once in, he’d found a way of life and a moral code that had allowed him to keep his hope. The same was true of Adrian, who still had enough hope to save the world. Doug had witnessed Tonya coming from Adrian’s tent, but Doug wasn’t about to begrudge him a piece of ass that many in camp had already had. Adrian was sacrificing everything, trying to save some of this country. Doug, who had given most of his own life for the very same thing, had a lot of respect for Safe Haven’s leader. It made Doug willing to overlook anything that might interfere with the dream. Like the camp finding out Adrian was screwing the woman they all suspected was a black widow, or at least an accomplice. Information like that was dangerous and he would guard it.

  Adrian slipped out of camp through the parking area, hating the pitch-blackness that surrounded them on all sides. As he proceeded toward the men guarding the rear of the camp, he stalked through the tape as an intruder would. These men were bouncers, factory workers, hardware store owners, and drive-thru employees, and they were on drag, the area farthest from the safe haven he’d tried to create. They were the wire, the only warning system, and it put them in the most danger. Because of that and the many, many other things he had foreseen, Adrian had been working hard with them (some more than others, like Kyle and Neil), and this was the first test of their alertness. He planned on many more in the future. It was essential–

  Click.

  Adrian stilled at the sound of a gun’s safety being flipped off, and he was pleased when the same noise came from behind him. The trees were only vague outlines and shadows that shifted continuously with the wind.

  “This is a US military refugee camp. State your business!” an icy voice barked.

  Adrian heard the faint, static-ridden crunch of a hand-held radio. The sentry had let the other men know they had a problem, as he had been taught.

  “Mister, I’ve got a clear shot, and I will take it unless you state your business immediately!”

  “Stand down, Neil.”

  The sigh was audible, “Damn, Adrian! I was close.”

  The state trooper slid the Beretta into his holster as he stepped from behind a nearby tree, night vision goggles coming down.

  As Neil flipped on the penlight around his neck, dimly illuminating the thick fir trees he’d chosen to take cover in, Adrian pinned him with a searching stare. “Would you have fired if I hadn’t spoken up?”

  Neil nodded right away, tall, thin shadow not quite leaning against the tree as the wind blew harder. “Affirmative. We can’t take chances now.”

  Footsteps crunched heavily from
two directions and arrived at roughly the same time, telling Adrian they had been where they were supposed to be.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You okay?”

  Neil waited for Adrian to address the arriving guards. When he didn’t, the cop did, keying his walkie-talkie so the others could hear too.

  “Disregard, false alarm. Resume your posts.”

  The two men went without question or complaint, nodding to Adrian, and he thought they were probably glad to have something to keep them awake. He had put the right man in charge of this shift, though. That was clear.

  The trooper, who everyone called Neil, wasn’t your average cop, and despite his young age (not quite thirty), Adrian was aware that people had begun to wonder if Neil was being examined for second in command. He wasn’t. He didn’t have the special spark that Adrian was searching for, but the trooper was still valuable and it hurt no one to let the camp assume so. It only made Neil, who knew better, feel proud. They had talked about it briefly, exchanged two or three sentences, but the cop understood that Adrian was holding that place for someone else, someone they hadn’t found yet.

  Adrian noted the man’s respect; he waited for the boss to begin. “Hearing anything?”

  “Negative. Lights again, though. Campfires,” Neil answered. He glanced around, hunting for the trainees who were shadowing Adrian. He didn’t see them, but Neil was sure they were there. He and Kyle had only recently passed their own level tests.

  Adrian’s mind went straight to the slavers. “How many tonight?”

  “Two northwest. Same ones we’ve spotted all week, following us. Kyle thinks they’ll make contact tomorrow, and I agree.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Neil frowned, settling his cover more firmly on as thick flurries rained down on them. “The other campfire, the one northeast; it’s big and more than causing a disturbance. That’ll push the smaller groups our way out of fear.”

  Adrian was glad they’d found the equipment shed at Pine Valley untouched. They now had a lot of weapons and defensive choices that most survivors wouldn’t. “That’s exactly what I hope will happen. How many?”

  Neil was worried. “Can’t tell yet.”

  “The ones we heard yesterday, screaming for all Americans to die?”

  “Yeah… I’m almost sure they’re bigger than us.”

  Adrian wasn’t surprised. The bad would always gather faster than the good and would always outnumber them too, if things continued as they were. “You think you can find a few more men? Double the guard?”

  The trooper examined his watch. “After the check?”

  “Yes.”

  When Neil offered him the walkie-talkie, Adrian refused it, thinking the brown hat the cop insisted on wearing fit surprisingly well with the solid black uniforms Adrian had put together for everyone, including himself. His jeans and the eagle on the rear of his jacket were necessary concessions. Later, it would be dangerous to announce who he was so openly, but for now, he needed to be easily picked out of a crowd for the comfort and the calmness of his herd.

  “I’m not here.”

  Neil keyed the mike. “Check-in time. Let’s try to remember how to count. Point is clear.”

  Adrian smothered a grin at the tone, glad the cop wasn’t as tight assed as his words often suggested. Getting each shift of men to talk in the right order, with the right wording, was frustrating, especially for Neil. He was used to the smooth organization of a police radio. He was also the end of five generations of officers, making it doubly annoying whenever someone called out of order, or worse, forgot their area number.

  “Area two, nothing here.” That was Kyle at the communications center.

  “Area three, clear.” Doug, at the parking area.

  “Four, clear.” Chris, at the Mess tent.

  There was silence as everyone waited for Danny, the sentry on the water tankers. When he didn’t check in, Neil frowned. Wasn’t there anything that guy could do right?

  “Check in now, area five!”

  Silence again…then the handset crackled. “Five, sorry. All’s fine here.”

  The voice was groggy and Neil automatically handed the set to Adrian, knowing this was his chore.

  “Area five, is my cat in the barn?”

  The voice that answered was clearly embarrassed. “No sir! Nature call.”

  “Copy. Five is clear. Next?”

  The check-in continued as Adrian handed the set back to the trooper.

  “Think he fell asleep again?” Neil’s voice was annoyed.

  “Probably. Call in his relief when you get the extra men and have Danny put lime dust around the johns before he can have a bottle. We shouldn’t get into the habit of being careless.”

  Neil ran a hand through thick brown curls. “Most of the men said okay to the mountains, if we can’t find anything better along the way.”

  Adrian understood their reluctance. He too wanted to rebuild on top of the earth, not inside it.

  Neil wondered suddenly what Adrian’s shadows thought of all the conversations they were overhearing, thinking of his own test, and his own revelations about their supposedly altruistic leader.

  “I should be doing more,” Neil blurted.

  “To help you, I mean,” he clarified when Adrian stared. “Is there something more I can do?”

  Adrian studied Neil’s narrow face as the cold wind blew a light dusting of ashy flurries over their boots. “There’s something else you feel you should be doing for me?”

  Neil didn’t drop his eyes, even though he wanted to. “I have some ideas–mostly about the guards…and security.”

  Adrian’s face split into a grin, and he clapped the surprised man on the shoulder. “It took you long enough to ask. I’ve always thought to have you as my chief of security when you’re ready and things are rolling.”

  They were the words every man in camp wanted to hear. A position by Adrian, one that commanded authority and proved to the camp (to the boss) that you were useful.

  “It’ll probably be only ninth or tenth in the final chain of command, but for a while, it will be third or fourth and you’ll always be in the loop. My word on that.”

  Neil felt careful gratitude and a small flare of guilt. He was so much more now than he had been before the war. In this awful new world, he was finally serving. “Is this the official offer?”

  “No, that comes later. For now, work hard and learn.” Adrian hesitated and then continued. “Also, keep your eyes open for anyone you think I should talk to or might have overlooked.”

  Neil studied him thoughtfully for a long minute. “You mean people like you.”

  It wasn’t a question, and Adrian frowned, hoping he hadn’t offended the cop. “Like me?”

  “It’s hard to explain. Something draws people to you. I’ll know it when I see it.”

  “Your loyalty means a great deal to me,” Adrian said with feeling. “You’ve been by my side almost since the beginning, and all the responsibility you’re hoping for will happen. You have my word on that, too.”

  Neil nodded, proud and eager for the time to come. “I recognize the sacrifices you’re making, how hard you work. We all do, and we’re grateful you stuck with us when everyone else split.”

  A little uncomfortable (his guilt was whispering insults) Adrian opened his mouth and was disappointed with what came out.

  “We’ll make it. God will help us find our way now.”

  Neil tensed. His face darkened as he turned away. “Why wouldn’t he help us before we got lost?”

  3

  Adrian took his time going back. He skirted the small, nervous herd of mule deer huddled together for warmth, encouraged to discover them. Except for the amount of debris rolling with the wind, it was normal here. Plastic bags, fast food wrappers, bits of paper, mildewed clothes–it was the same garbage that had always littered America, but the amounts of it had grown drastically because litter patrols and trash removal were gone like everyth
ing else. There wasn’t a single aspect of American life that the war hadn’t touched, changed. Still, other than the debris that made odd noises in the wind and the occasional rotting fox or rabbit, it was as if nothing bad had happened here, and that was the whole point of his choosing preserves and parks. How could his people heal if they were constantly being reminded of all they’d suffered and lost?

  Back in the heart of camp now, Adrian moved quietly, hearing snores and tents flapping in the cold breeze. He was glad not to detect a single soul passed out around the bonfire. They were all inside, finally adjusting to being under canvas.

  Adrian nodded to Jeremy, the man now guarding the water tankers instead of Danny. It pleased him that the new sentry on the hundred-gallon, portable tankers was wearing the entire black outfit, but he didn’t stop to talk.

  Aware of the two shadows that came with him as he got a cup of coffee from the deserted Mess, Adrian headed for the tow truck they had converted into Safe Haven’s communications center. The guard here was his most promising man.

  A former captain in the infamous Genovese mob family, Kyle had also dressed in the suggested black gear, even down to the cap over his short, curly black hair. Again, Adrian was more than happy he had changed Kyle’s mind, convincing the man to make a clean break instead of trying to go to New York for any of his family who might have survived. Adrian hadn’t been sure of the mobster at first, but he was now.

  “Hear anything?”

  Kyle frowned. “Nothing but static, boss. Storm whacked the antenna good.”

  “Did Mitch pass the test?”

  The stocky sentry frowned, hand resting lightly on the handle of his Glock. “Yep. Only one who did.”

  “I want him on the radio full time come morning. Tell him to get comfortable there.”

  Kyle swept the landscape around them as he confirmed, “You know it.”

  Content for the moment that all in their kingdom was secure, the mobster took the opportunity to share his thoughts. “Something’s coming. Feel it in the wind.”

  Adrian had the same worries. “Good or bad?”