Deadrise 2: Deadwar

by Steven R. Gardner

  “I think we’re going to be ok.” Matt said, talking to nobody.

  “What?” Susan asked, her voice slurred with sleep.

  “Just thinking aloud babe. Go back to sleep.” Matt stroked her shoulder and back and she snuggled her head deeper into his chest…

  CHAPTER 5

  Thursday, July 12, 2001

  Rainbow Lake, UT

  8:00 PM

  The vote for the remaining three Council seats had gone smooth and without a hitch; In addition to the charter members of General Jenkins, Colonel McReedy, Matt & Susan Robbins, David Young, Dr. Reilly and Sheriff Busley, the three Council members elected to office were Patty Marshall, Lucas Casey and Guy Hammond.

  Patty Marshall was a tall woman in her early forties, buxom and full figured. She wore her brunette hair short, her eyes large and blue, her mouth full-lipped and her cheekbones high. She had been a teacher at the town elementary school as well as a member of the Kittewa town council. A community leader pre-plague, it was only natural that they turn to her now, in a time of dire crisis.

  Lucas Casey was a retired breeder and trainer of pedigree horses and hunting dogs with a comfortable cabin on the south end of the lake. He was tall and thin, with coffee colored skin and a hint of gray in his dark, close cropped hair. His brown eyes were warm, yet aloof, as if he were in constant amusement of what was going on around him. He was also an avid hunter and he knew these mountains and trails as good as anyone and better than most.

  Guy Hammond was a frail, mousy man, with thinning blond hair and thick-rimmed glasses. He exuded an air of meek timidity, hardly a man one would expect people to turn to for leadership in a time of crisis. But he had been the Curator and Librarian of the towns small Museum-Library and the townsfolk regarded him as the most knowledgeable person on virtually any subject in Kittewa before the outbreak. He had passed up several offers from college museums and libraries to devote himself to the history and folklore of the surrounding area.

  Electing the three members had been the easy part. Once they convened in the Main House conference room and started discussing things such as duties and responsibilities, chain of command within the Council, even the duration of a Council appointment, complications ensued. Things came to a head about 2:00 pm, when Jenkins insisted that the highest-ranking Militia officer be a permanent member of the Council. While supported by the majority of them, Patty Marshall and Guy Hammond had opposed it. They gave some ridiculous argument about too much authority in the hands of the military led only to tyranny, and this had quickly set Jenkins and Mac to laughter.

  “It is no laughing matter General.” Guy said with a timid defiance.

  “Nobody is laughing Hammond.” Jenkins retorted, despite the fact that he and Mac were indeed laughing. “But the fact is, without a strong Militia to defend you this whole thing is an exercise in futility. And as the leader of the Militia, I’m telling you right now that neither my soldiers nor I will be subject to the whims of civilians. If we, as well as future Militia members are going to risk our lives defending this community as well as going on supply raids, then we shall always, ALWAYS have a voice on this Council, and will also have FINAL authority on ALL expansion and security matters.”

  “Nobody is saying the Militia shouldn’t have a voice General. But unchecked military rule is nothing more than a dictatorship.” Guy said.

  Jenkins couldn’t believe this spineless worm of a man had actually been elected to the Council. That he had even had the backbone to aspire to such a position of authority almost defied belief. And now he sought to lecture Jenkins on the abuse of military power? He gave Hammond’s a short, contemptuous laugh.

  “Let’s get something straight right now. Every single person on this lake is living at the leave of my Militia. If I wanted to make this a dictatorship, I would have done it by now. And there’s not a goddamned thing any of you could have done about it. But quite frankly, I don’t want to deal with the day-to-day bullshit of running this place. Making sure everyone is fed and clothed and given medical attention just isn’t my thing. That’s the whole reason we cooked up this Council.”

  “Are you serious?” Dr. Reilly asked, looking at Jenkins as if he were a madman.

  “Of course I’m serious Doc.” Jenkins sounded amused by the question. “Logistics were never my cup of tea. I like the action. While my men and I are out defending and supplying this place, the rest of you can keep thing running smooth at home.”

  “Will the rest of the community accept it?” Sheriff Busley asked.

  “They already have.” David said. “They made no objections when Jenkins announced the charter members and they elected the three of you. So long as they are kept safe and secure, and their bellies full, they won’t say a word.”

  “Are you hearing yourself boy?” Lucas asked. “Those are people out there, not sheep!”

  “My name is David, not boy!” David snapped back at Lucas, which caught the old man off guard.

  “David’s right.” Jenkins added. “People are sheep, especially people still recovering from the shock of the fall of civilization. They are the sheep, and we are the shepherds. But don’t you worry Lucas, we’ll do a lot more than keep them safe and their bellies full.” Jenkins finished with a smug grin.

  “With the General and Colonel McReedy, that gives the Militia two seats on the Council.” Guy said with timid resignation, still avoiding Jenkins eyes.

  “You’re not going to start whining about too much military control again, are you Hammond’s?” McReedy chided him.

  “Its is disproportionate to-“

  “There must still be some recourse for the Council to replace one of its own.” Patty cut him off.

  “You mean if one of us dies?” Mac asked. “We would just have another election to replace that member.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the Council expelling a member if the need arises.”

  “What would be the need?” Sheriff Busley asked.

  “Corruption…abuse of power…incompetence…” Patty counted the reasons off on her fingers, glaring at Jenkins the entire time. Jenkins grin faded and his smugness became irritation.

  “Look, I am not going to keep going over this again and again. The Council has absolutely ZERO authority over the Militia and its operations. And if I have to say that one more time I’m simply going to abolish this whole Council bullshit and implement Militia rule. Do I make myself clear?” Jenkins slammed his fist down on the table as he shouted his words, and the room fell into tense silence.

  He took their silence to be compliance.

  Jenkins took a few deep breaths before leaning back in his chair, relaxing his manner. “I know you all must hate me right now, but that’s just too fucking bad. All of these people here are depending on us to bring some order to their lives. We have a lot to do and a limited pool of manpower with which to accomplish it all. Instead of arguing about who is in control, why don’t we try working towards bettering our situation, finding more people and adding them to the fold?”

  “I’d love to hear your plan.” Lucas said with a sneer.

  “Like I said earlier, I’m going to be busy defending, scouting and expanding… I don’t want to be bogged down with the day-to-day minutia of running this place and keeping all of these people happy. That’s where the Council comes in. What I need from the Council is to get organized and give me supply lists of what you need most so I can make resource specific raids.”

  And so the conversation turned to more important matters… The negotiations carried on into the evening, and when they finally wrapped it up just before 10:00 pm, they had established the framework in which the Council would operate.

  All decisions that would impact the Community as a whole such as distribution of resources, laws, crime and punishment within the community and other such concerns would be decided by a Council vote, with at least seven votes needed to pass. Furthermore, each Council members individual responsibiliti
es within the community were outlined.

  General Jenkins and Colonel McReedy would be in charge of security. In such areas the Council held zero authority. The Militia would also conduct supply raids, initiate contact with other human outposts and coordinate with Freebooters.

  Lucas Casey would work in concert with the Militia, especially in the mountains surrounding the community, refining patrol routes and security checkpoints. He would also organize hunts for deer and other game.

  Sheriff Busley would handle internal security, essentially acting as Sheriff to the Rainbow Lake community just as he had the town of Kittewa, handling petty disputes and minor crimes.

  Matt, Susan, David, Patty and Guy would handle the day-to-day administration of the community, the bureaucratic bullshit that Jenkins had grumbled about. Dr. Reilly’s sole concern was the hospital and the medical needs of the community.

  “Winter is just a few months away.” Jenkins said as they all rose from the conference table. ”We have a lot to accomplish, and a short time in which to do it. Our first supply run to Evanston will be in three days so please prepare lists of what we need.”

  With that the Council meeting was finished, and they all retreated to the quarters, weary from the day’s negotiations…

  CHAPTER 6

  Friday, July 13 2001

  Rainbow Lake, UT

  2:30 PM

  The Evanston Run was less that forty-eight hours away, and Jenkins was filled with anxiety. It wasn’t the first time he had led men into battle; The supply raids into Salt Lake City when he was with the Ft. Douglas Militia had been far more dangerous, and with fewer and lesser equipped men. His short stint as Commander in Chief of Park City had required him to send hundreds of men into battle, most to their deaths. Thinking back to that time it seemed so unreal, like it had happened to somebody else.

  But what they had built here at Rainbow Lake was something special.

  Back at Ft. Douglas Jenkins hadn’t cared about anything but himself. Before the deadrise he had been on a downward spiral. He had washed out of the Rangers just after the Gulf War and damn near crashed and burned here in Utah.

  But the deadrise had changed everything. Where most people had withered from the shock of the civilization collapsing, Jenkins had embraced it. For the first time in nearly a decade, he had felt ALIVE! Sheer luck had put him at Ft. Douglas when the lockdown had gone into effect and all personnel on base had been called to defend it. After things at Douglas and the University of Utah campus had stabilized, he had turned to organizing supply raids down into the surrounding neighborhoods. He and Ron quickly become a team, Jenkins with the official Army connections and Ron and his brother Rick hustling the refugees.

  Ron…

  Rick…

  He missed them. He sure could use them right about now to help him deal with the growing population problem they were facing. Jenkins had been deeply affected by their loss. And that in turn had strengthened the bonds with Matt and his family, as well as his attachment to the place. Rainbow Lake was home. Matt, Susan, David, Mac and the others, they were family. And Jenkins felt it his personal obligation to protect and provide for each and every one of them. And the Evanston Run was a major operation in the safety and security of the Rainbow Lake community.

  Jenkins pulled himself from his musing and tried to focus on the task at hand but his mind kept drifting away, centering instead on his anxiety. Maybe it was time to take a break and get some fresh air? His second floor office accessed the rear balcony through a single glass door. Jenkins set his pen down and stood up from the desk. Grabbing his pack of cigarettes and half full glass of whiskey, he made his way out. The fresh mountain air, alive with the smells of nature invigorated him almost at once. He stepped to the edge of the balcony, setting his whiskey on the rail long enough to light up a cigarette.

  As he stood there smoking his cigarette and sipping his whiskey, gazing out over the rear estate grounds of the Main House, he began to think about last night’s Council meeting. He understood the need for the Council. It had a purpose to serve, so long as it didn’t interfere with the safety and security of the community as a whole. Jenkins had made that point as absolutely clear as possible to the Council members, and despite their assurance of understanding, Jenkins suspected there were some who would still be difficult and need to be observed.

  Matt, Susan, Mac and David were solid with him. He trusted them completely, and knew they would back his plays. That good-old-boy Sheriff would do what was in the best interest of the community, and so long as Jenkins could guarantee their safety, he would most likely defer to Jenkins authority. The same went for Doc Reilly. Guy Hammond’s was a spineless coward who feared Jenkins almost as much as he did the deadfuck’s. Once again he wondered how such a man could be elected to a position of leadership. He would be easily intimidated. The only real problems Jenkins saw were Lucas Casey and Patty Marshall.

  Lucas Casey was simply an asshole. As soon as Jenkins had met the old bastard he had been reminded of his father. Smart, skeptical, sharp tongued… He could tell from Casey’s walk and demeanor that he had spent time in the military, probably seeing action in ‘Nam. He was cut from exactly the same mold as his father and he rubbed Jenkins wrong just the same. He could already tell that Casey would give him problems, challenge his authority and be a pain in the ass. He considered offering Casey a rank of Colonel in the Militia, but he knew the son-of-a-bitch would only turn it down. He’d be damned before he would serve under Jenkins. He was a stubborn, prideful old bastard just like Jenkins father. Maybe he should simply eliminate him? Just call him out in the next Council meeting and shoot him dead right there in the conference room, follow up on his threat of court martial and execution, cementing his absolute authority once and for all. The thought brought a smile to Jenkins face, but he knew killing Casey was not the answer. Asshole that he was, he would have his uses. He was a master hunter, woodsman and horseman. And he had military experience, of that Jenkins was certain. Grimacing down another sip of whiskey, Jenkins realized that his best option was to simply try and work with the asshole as best he could, and deal with the challenges to his authority as they arose.

  As for Patty Marshall, she was another problem altogether. She was an activist. Jenkins had dealt with her type before; Over-educated liberals, who championed civil liberties of convicted rapists and serial killers, despised the US military and thought of terrorists as revolutionaries or freedom fighters. She exuded a judgmental, self-righteous attitude and felt it her duty to protect the people from the establishment, which in this case was Jenkins and his oppressive Militia. Jenkins knew they were going to clash on nearly every single issue concerning the community priorities, and she would most likely go ballistic if Jenkins implemented the military conscription program he had been contemplating.

  To further complicate matters, Jenkins found her attractive as hell. He’d always had a thing for the full figured ladies, and it had been some time since he had made love to anything other than the palm of his hand, so his attraction was compounded by his sexual desire. As with Casey, he decided to try and work with her the best he could, and deal with anything else as it arose.

  Another wildcard that concerned Jenkins was the Freebooters. He felt fortunate that they hadn’t started shooting at one another the other night when Jenkins had cemented his authority over the entire community. Smitty Tucker and his crew were seasoned killers. They could prove very troublesome, or very useful if Jenkins dealt with them correctly. Smitty was coming by later to meet with him; he and his crew had made the Evanston run a few times while residing in Park City and his knowledge and experience could prove invaluable. It would also give Jenkins a chance to feel the biker out.

  Jenkins took the last drag from his cigarette and ground it out beneath the toe of his combat boot and he drained the last of his whiskey. His mind felt clear, and the whiskey, nicotine and fresh mountain air had eased the anxiety. Now maybe he could get back to planning the Evanston run…


  CHAPTER 7

  Saturday, July 14, 2001

  Rainbow Lake, UT

  10:23 AM

  David focused on his work. He had only been back to work for a few days, and his wounds were far from healed. His shoulder was stiff as hell, and although the inflatable cast on his broken leg allowed him to walk, he was in constant pain. Dr. Reilly had given him pain pills, but they made David’s head feel like it was stuffed with cotton and his stomach slightly queasy. And they made him itch. He couldn’t work in that condition so he simply suffered through the pain.

  But right now he was so absorbed in his work that the pain was forgotten. While he had been out of commission, Pvt. Randy Jordan had been in charge of the network and managed to get a good, operational understanding of how it worked, maybe even more so than David.

  To his delight, he came upon a section of the system that Pvt. Jordan had been unable to access. And he could see that it wasn’t for a lack of trying.

  David took a crack at it himself. In less than five minutes he was through the security protocols, accessing the contents.

  “Nice work, David.” Pvt. Jordan’s voice crackled over the intercom. He was downstairs, working at the secondary security station. “What’s there?”

  “It’s what I had hoped it was… What I’ve been looking for…” His fingers were flying across his keyboard. “We can access the complete Orioncorp network.”