Solaris Mortem: The New Patriots

by Rusty Henrichsen

  “You watch your tone with me, young man.”

  “Okay. Sorry, Mom.”

  “Here—drink some water.” She ruffled her son’s hair and smiled, then focused her attention on keeping guard. A watchful eye was your only shot for survival. Let your guard down for one minute and you were dead.

  Another hour and a half of walking brought them to Seattle. Norma and Jason arrived late. The sun had been down for at least thirty minutes and the cold set in. It had been hard to shake the cold lately. It rained everyday for most of the day, and they were soaked to the bone. It seemed they never had a chance to dry off…warm up. Not if they wanted to keep moving and Norma wanted to keep moving. She wasn’t going to let her son die out there, no way.

  They took their place in line, but Refugees were filing into Seattle faster than they could be processed. Hordes of people were backed up for block after block with no end in sight, hoping to secure a cot for the night. Hoping to have a chance at some kind of future. A life off of the road.

  “We made it, hun,” Norma said, and she clasped her hand on the back of Jason’s neck. “We made it.”

  “Yeah,” Jason said. “When’re we gonna be able to go to bed?”

  “Soon, hun, soon.” She didn’t know if that was the truth or not—if they would have a bed tonight—but it seemed closer than ever now, and Norma thanked God for their good fortune.

  * * *

  “We’ve got to do something, Chancellor,” Rick said. “Start turning them away…something. We’re getting overrun.”

  “And how do you see that going for us?” Charles said. “If we start turning people out, they’ll riot. Next thing we know, we’ll be shooting them. Do you really think you’re ready for that?”

  “I don’t see that we have much choice. I mean, look outside. More people are waiting to get in than we have food for. And there’s way more than we have the vaccine for.”

  “So, we keep doing what we’re doing. Take ‘em in if they’re healthy—get ‘em chipped. More vaccine will arrive soon enough.”

  “And what about food?” Rick said.

  “We’ve got food.”

  “For how long? There are more people lined up to get in the city than we already have in the city.”

  Charles shook his head. “And what would you have me do? Just turn them all away to starve and freeze?”

  “If that’s what it takes,” Rick said, “for us to make it…then, yes.”

  Charles just stared at the man before him for a few moments. This guy is an asshole, he thought. Rick the Prick was a well-deserved moniker, no doubt.

  “We are not there yet, Rick, and I am not ready to make that call.”

  “Well, somebody better,” Rick muttered.

  “Oh, and let me guess, you think you’re just the guy to make that call. You think everything would be better if you were in charge. Well, let me tell ya’ something—you’re not in charge. Now, get back out there and do your damn job.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Rick said. He closed the door and fought the urge to punch a wall. How dare that motherfucker talk to him like that? You’re goddamned right things would be better if I were in charge!

  Perhaps, just perhaps, Charles’s period of usefulness was coming to a close. The thought put a smile on Rick’s face. He walked, his boots clomping noisily on wet pavement, and he thought, what would it take to get rid of Charles? Not much, he decided. Seven grams of lead ought to do it.

  And what about this new anti-movement growing up? What was Charles going to do about that? He’ll probably just let it grow and fester out of control. We can’t have that. No way. Dissenters must be quashed where they stand. The New Patriots are the way, the future.

  * * *

  The second meeting of the Anti-Movement was coming to a close. Old theater seats rattled and creaked. Laughter. Apprehension. Excitement. No longer would they be under the boot of the New Patriots. A new day was dawning. Freedom would be theirs once again. Maybe soon.

  Terry approached Duncan and cleared his throat. “Duncan, have you got a minute?”

  “Sure, Terry. What’s up?”

  “Well—I’m getting a little antsy, to be honest,” Terry said. “What is our timeline here…I mean talk is nice, but when are we going to actually get out of here? And where are we going to go?”

  “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Terry, but we’ve got to be smart about this,” Duncan said. “We move too fast, and all we’ll achieve is death—ours, more than likely.”

  “Right, but…I feel like all we’re doing here is talking. I’d like to steer this more in the direction of planning.”

  Duncan bristled. He didn’t mean for Terry to see it, but he did.

  Terry wondered if he had crossed a line. Too much…slow down, turbo. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off as critical,” Terry said.

  “No, no…maybe you’re right,” Duncan said. “Maybe we do need to speed things up a little. I’m new at all of this too, you know?”

  “Absolutely, I understand, I do.” And he did, but that changed nothing. The fact was that Terry could not shake the feeling that time was ticking down. Soon, they would be down to zero. What happens at zero? Terry didn’t want to find out.

  “The truth is, I do have a plan…a place to go,” Duncan said. “I’ve been a little hesitant to bring it up because it’s my place and I don’t necessarily want everyone knowing where it is just yet. Don’t want someone else running off and claiming it. You know?”

  “Sure,” Terry said. “That makes sense…. Could I ask where it is? I mean, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind telling you,” Duncan said. “It’s my cabin on Lake Kachess, over the Pass. Completely off-grid, wood stove, it’s set up real nice. It’s been my vacation spot for years and also my bug-out location for when the shit hits the fan.”

  “If you’ve got a place like that,” Terry said, “what in the hell are you doing here?”

  “Good question,” Duncan said and smiled. His grin faded and went out. “I’ve got a son…and…I came here looking for him.” He cast his eyes down.

  “I’m sorry,” Terry said.

  Duncan rebounded quickly. “It’s okay. Might still find him. I mean, for all I know he’s at the cabin now.”

  “Was that the plan? Were you guys…supposed to meet up…like, if anything happened?”

  “No, not exactly. I’ve always been, you know, fairly preparedness minded. Him—not so much. I went to the cabin first when the shit hit the fan, and I waited for him, but he never showed up…. I hoped I’d find him here, but….”

  “Well, I hope he’s there,” Terry said. “How big is this cabin of yours?”

  “It’s small, but there’s lots of room to build more cabins and plenty of logs to build them with,” Duncan said, and smiled. “I’ll tell you what, I’ve been thinking about getting some committees going and maybe you would like to participate in that. Maybe, you would even like to head up one of the groups.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Terry said. Now. we’re getting somewhere.

  “I was thinking of a preparation committee, you know, one that’s in charge of gathering supplies. The things we need to live…eat…that sort of thing. And secondly, I was thinking of a planning committee. That one would be in charge of, well—planning. We need a good plan if we’re going to get out of here in one piece.”

  Terry nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

  “So, what do you think? Would you be willing to lead one of those groups?” Duncan said.

  “Sure. Which one?”

  “I’ll let you choose. You seem capable of leading either. You’ve got the drive.”

  “Well, thank you, Duncan. I’ll think on it and let you know tomorrow?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll talk to you tomorrow then. Have a good night, Terry.”

  * * *

  Austin left the meeting, walked a block and turned the corner toward home.

  “Psst…Austin…Come he
re.”

  Austin turned and saw Rick. Creeping. Austin had his reservations about helping Rick. He also had reservations about dying for not helping Rick. It was complicated. He wondered if there was even any chance of getting out of this alive. It was a dangerous game he was playing.

  Sure, Rick would probably destroy him if he didn’t cooperate, but who’s to say someone else from the meeting wouldn’t kill him if they found out what he was up to?

  “Hey. Hi, Rick.”

  “Shut up and get over here.” Rick hissed, waving impatiently with his hand. “So, what did you hear tonight, little birdie? Tell me everything…and don’t leave anything out.”

  Austin shuffled from foot to foot and looked at his boots as if the words were written on the toe. “Well, there’s a few more people now…and they’re angry. They think all of this, our camp and what-not, is like…bad or something. It was mostly just talking about why they’re worried and stuff.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I got that. What they’re going to do about it is what concerns me,” Rick said.

  “I guess I don’t know. I mean, they haven’t really got that far, you know?”

  Rick flexed his jaw, and Austin heard the grating of teeth. “I’ll tell you what: for right now, what I want you to do is make me a list. Everyone who attends, any details you can give me. What they do, where they live, what they say…. It could all be important. Can you do that?”

  “Well…sure. I can do that.”

  “Good. Get it done and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Two nights later, Duncan brought the gavel down, thus starting the third meeting of the growing Anti-Movement.

  “Welcome, everyone. It’s nice to see all of you again and some new faces in the crowd as well.” Their numbers had grown to fifty, maybe sixty people. “Why don’t we start with introductions again as we have some new members,” Duncan said. “My name is Duncan Whyte, and I guess you could say, that I’m the founder of our little group here. I was born and raised right here, in the Pacific Northwest and I was active in a citizen’s militia group before everything...happened.”

  Duncan nodded toward Terry, indicating he should go next. Terry obliged, and it continued around the room, burning up the next twenty-five minutes or so.

  Terry had been hoping to see more action tonight, something beyond the usual idle chitter-chatter. He gave Duncan a “look” trying his best to convey his sense of urgency. Duncan gave one back with a nod. It was understood.

  After all had gone and given their brief biographies, Duncan took center stage again.

  “I’ve been talking with some of you since we began this thing, and there’s a growing consensus, that we—need to start moving things along. I can’t disagree with that. So—tonight, we’re going to form two committees.” People nodded their heads, and a few murmurs of approval were heard as well. “To start with,” Duncan said, “we need a preparation committee. This group would be in charge of…just what it sounds like…food, water, weaponry, first aid supplies, a vehicle. The physical things we’ll need to survive when we leave here.

  “That brings me to our second committee: the planning committee. They’re not just going to let us walk on out of here, so we need a plan, and a good one. We need a way to get our chips out,” he said as he tapped on his forehead. “Or, we need a way to crash the system, even if it’s only temporarily, so we can get out of here with our heads still firmly anchored to our necks. Sound good?” This was met with hushed applause and smiles. Keeping the noise down was important.

  “I’ve asked Terry to head up one of the committees, and I will head up the other. Unless, there’re any objections….” He waited for a moment, scanning the room. “If not, then that is the way I’d like to move forward.”

  “Terry, have you had a chance to give it some thought on which group you would like to manage?”

  Terry stepped toward Duncan and cleared his throat. He hated public speaking but figured he had better get more comfortable with it…starting now.

  “Yes, thanks, Duncan. I have. If it works for you, then I would like to be on the planning committee.” He couldn’t bring himself to say, ‘be in charge of the planning committee.’ Somehow, it sounded too pretentious, in his ears, anyhow.

  “That works perfectly for me,” Duncan said. “Next order of business, let’s get these committees populated. If you feel strongly that you would be better suited for one group or the other, then please speak up now.”

  Hands went up, and the groups were formed. Terry, Vince, Otis, and others formed the planning committee, while Duncan, Austin, and others made up the preparation committee. Things were starting to gel. Starting to, anyway.

  Later on, Austin and Rick met again in the alley. Austin sang like a canary.

  * * *

  “Sir? Is now a good time?” Rick asked, walking into Charles’s office the next morning.

  “Sure, grab a seat,” Charles said, still busy scribbling notes on his yellow pad of paper. Rick closed the door behind him and sat down. “What’s on your mind, Rick?”

  Rick put his hands behind his head, leaned back and stretched before laying both hands down hard on the desk between them. “These anti-movement people are becoming a problem, Sir.”

  Charles put down his pen and looked up to Rick. “Oh? And how is that?”

  Charles’s flippant nature infuriated Rick immediately. Rick laughed and said, “How is that? Well…where do I begin? What they’re doing, what they’re talking about in those meetings is treason, and—“

  “Let me stop you right there, Rick. I’m not real concerned about a few pissants talking, okay? So, they’re unhappy—so what?”

  “So what?” Rick couldn’t believe his ears. What the fuck do you mean, ‘so what?’ “Sir, our orders are zero-tolerance toward traitors of the state, and we need to…no…it is our duty to stamp this out now.”

  Charles picked up his pen and began doodling lazy circles. His grin surfaced. “You really take all this stuff seriously, don’t you? This is…just…a job, you know? What are you gonna do, just gun all these people down for traitorous speech? I’m sorry, man, but I just can’t go for…all of that.”

  Rick was getting angry now, and his vision shook left to right like it often did when someone riled him up. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do take this all very seriously and so should you as Chancellor. This is our shot to correct mankind. Are you fucking oblivious to the mess of the world? To over-population? To free will run wild? To all of the chaos?”

  “That’s human nature, Rick and I’d advise you to watch your tone with me, got it? I am still your superior. Don’t you forget it.”

  “Well, Sir, what would you suggest?”

  “What would I suggest about what? Their talking? Let ‘em talk. I don’t give a shit. If their talk turns into something, then let me know. But until then, I’d suggest you pull your panties outta your ass. How’s that sound?”

  Rick’s agitated vision was now accompanied by shades of red and small dark spots. “It sounds like I’m talking to a traitor, Sir.”

  “Excuse me, soldier? I ought to have your ass hauled to the brig for that! I never once in my life—“

  It sounded like he had a lot more to say, but he couldn’t get it out before Rick brought up the silenced 9mm auto he held in his lap and shot Charles point-blank in the face. He slumped forward, twitching and fell out of his chair.

  Rick rolled the chair away, his chair now, before blood could pool around its casters and he took a seat, propping his feet up on his new desk.

  Moments later, Austin walked in. He didn’t hear the shot, but he was just in time to help with the mess.

  Rick trained his pistol on Austin’s head. “Austin…how many times have I told you to knock? Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

  “Oh my God. What happened? Did you kill him?” It was a stupid question, and he knew it, but he found himself in a stupefied state.

  Rick started to laugh and looked back and forth be
tween Charles and Austin.

  He is a fucking psycho and he’s going to kill me next, Austin thought.

  “What? Me? Kill Charles? No, no, no. You see, I just came in here, and I found him like this. Obviously, the man has cracked, and he killed himself. Here, sit down. Grab the pen there and write this down.”

  Rick forced Austin to scrawl out Charles’s suicide note in block letters.

  “Now, remember, Austin. This will be our little secret.”

  * * *

  Austin ran to work.

  “Terry,” Austin said, trying to catch his breath. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Sure. What’s up? And you’re late. Where’ve you been?”

  Austin fidgeted and played with his short beard. “Well, the thing is…I kind of…just need to get something off my chest…. And where I’ve been—well, it’s all related.”

  “I’m listening….” Austin’s stammering and stalling were beginning to get on Terry’s nerves. “Austin—spit it out already. I’ve got work to do. You’ve got work to do.”

  “I…I’ve been helping Rick.”

  “What?” Terry wasn’t sure what Austin meant by that, but he was sure it didn’t sound good. “What do you mean you’ve been helping Rick?”

  The phrase, helping Rick, perked Vince’s ears and he was on it. “What the fuck did I just hear?”

  Now, Austin was really squirming. “It’s not what you think, I mean, he forced me to.”

  “Forced you to what?” Vince barked back.

  “To tell him stuff. To keep tabs on you guys…on the Anti-Movement. He said—”

  Vince cut him off with a square punch to the jaw, then another to the gut. Austin lay on the ground struggling for breath.

  “I oughta fucking kill you for this, Austin!”

  Terry held Vince back, not that he actually could without Vince’s cooperation. Austin crawled to his hands and knees.

  “Now, hold on, Vince. Let’s just hear him out,” Terry said. “See if it’s really as bad as it sounds….” Terry hoped it wasn’t, but braced himself for the worst. “Okay, Austin. Tell me everything. You okay? Can you talk?”