by Ryan King
“The front’s just secured by a key,” the sergeant spoke hurriedly while staring at the bloodstained hand gripping him. “I have one and Captain Bonnett has the other. Mine’s in my pocket.”
Vincent holstered his pistol and pulled out a knife, which he used to cut the bonds restraining the man’s hands behind his back. “Open it.”
The sergeant massaged his wrists before reaching into his pocket with a trembling hand. He brought out a massive key ring, which he used to open the door.
Vincent saw the large adjacent doors on a loading dock. “Open those as well.”
The man did so.
“Bring the trucks up,” Vincent ordered his men. “Start loading up as per the priority list. Anything we can’t take with us drag outside. We’re going to destroy it.”
Vincent walked the JP sergeant back past rows of mortars, claymores, grenades, and rifles. Pallets of ammunition and equipment filled the rooms. Most of the depot’s supplies had been used in the last two years by the WTR and JP, but there was plenty left over.
“Where’s the Class F explosives storage area?” Vincent asked.
The man looked at him, confused, and shook his head.
Vincent tapped the man on the chest with his knife. “We had a deal. I know they’re here. This used to be my facility, after all.”
The sergeant turned and walked through several rooms, hitting light switches as he went.
“I see there’s still electricity down here, that’s nice,” said Vincent.
Approaching a large metal door, the man strode over to a keypad and placed his thumb on a scanner until it beeped. He then punched in a code and pulled the heavy door open, turning on the light.
Vincent followed him inside the small room and saw several racks containing large square suitcases approximately three feet across. All the spaces were filled except for one, which was vacant. Each case had a lock and keyhole.
“Keys,” Vincent said.
The man walked over to a safe set against the wall and began to spin the dial a few times. He then opened the drawer with a loud clang and stepped back.
Vincent leaned over and saw about two dozen small black boxes, with one hole missing. He pulled out one of the boxes and opened it to find a hex key with a number on it: 6. Vincent walked over to the space marked 6, pulled the case out onto the floor roughly, and opened the case. Inside, he found a large backpack with several manuals attached.
He immediately noticed something wasn’t right. There were raw wires sticking out where electrical components were supposed to be, as well as a vacant space where the control module had sat.
“What’s this?” Vincent asked, pointing with his knife.
“General Taylor ordered them all rendered inoperable after Fulton.”
“All of them?” Vincent asked incredulously.
The man nodded.
Vincent stepped away towards the door and stared vacantly at the wall.
How could a leader make such a stupid decision? Vincent wondered. He might need those nukes in the future. Just goes to show you some are unfit for the burden of leadership.
He then turned swiftly and slashed the man across the throat with his knife. The sergeant grabbed his spurting neck and crumpled to the floor with a look of amazement. Vincent bent down and cleaned his knife off on the dying man’s shirt sleeve.
“Sir?” said a hesitant voice at the door.
“Yeah?” Vincent answered without turning.
“We’ll be loaded soon.”
“Good,” said Vincent, standing and putting his knife away. “Get some people in here to load up everything; don’t forget the keys in the safe.”
The man looked at the body on the floor. “What about the prisoners?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are we turning them loose or taking them with us?”
Vincent laughed. “Just kill them. They’re no use to us anymore.”
“You mean...just kill them?”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” said Vincent. “As a matter of fact, I want all leaders to execute at least one prisoner personally. Anyone who refuses will be brought to me, understand?”
“Yes, sir,” the man said and departed.
“This is very disappointing,” Vincent said, looking at the open case at his feet. Still, those scientists at Huntsville were wicked smart. Maybe they could figure out a way to salvage the tactical nukes.
Vincent smiled as he started to hear individual pops from outside.
*******
Back in Huntsville, Vincent’s forces moved swiftly once past the security barriers. All of the leaders had agreed to kill one of the prisoners except for two, which Vincent had then executed. Those that were left were tied to him by the bond of shared atrocity. Who else would accept them now?
Those forces moved swiftly and efficiently, taking control of key areas and personnel. Most people didn’t even realize that a coup was occurring until it was over.
Vincent marched into Director Erik Sessions’s office without knocking.
Erik was standing behind his desk looking out the window. He turned as Vincent and two soldiers walked in. “Vince, what is going on?”
“The mission was a success,” Vincent said. “We are now better prepared to resist future aggressions.”
“That’s...good,” said Erik, looking worriedly at the two soldiers flanking Vincent. “Why are they here?”
“In case we need to remove your dead body. You can’t expect me to do it.”
“My...body?”
Vincent walked up and sat on the edge of Erik’s desk. “I’m going to give you a choice. Like you, I recognize talent and see some good qualities in you. You know how to talk to these geeks around here, yet can stay on task. Get the mission accomplished. The key question is can you work for me?”
“Work...for you?”
“Sure,” said Vincent. “Call us partners if you like, as long as we both understand I’m in charge. You keep your same position and keep doing what you’re doing, just make sure to run everything by me, understand?”
Erik looked at the two soldiers and noticed one of them was carrying what appeared to be a body bag while the other had pushed in a mop and bucket filled with dirty gray water.
Erik forced himself to smile. “Sure. Why not? We’re all on the same team, right?”
Vincent stood and grinned, holding his hand out to Erik. “Very wise choice. I knew you were a reasonable man.”
Erik shook his hand.
“We’ll talk later,” Vincent promised and then turned to the two soldiers. “Come on, boys. We have a very busy day.”
They walked out of the room.
Erik slowly walked across the room as if in a trance. He closed and locked his door and then returned to sit heavily in his chair.
He stared at the body bag and mop bucket the two soldiers had left in his office.
Chapter 16 – The Memorial
“It’s ugly as hell,” Nathan said.
“Shush,” Reggie said out of the corner of his mouth. “People are watching.”
He looked around. Indeed they were. The crowd was much larger than he had expected, but then again, the event would resonate with a great many people. All the seats were filled, and throngs of people lined the riverfront for as far as Nathan could see.
They were there to commemorate the Paducah Memorial, but people were already calling it the Brazen Memorial because the giant piece of concrete and steel had been placed right at the spot where the man had been crucified. A jagged hole had been dug into the concrete embankment to rest the base of the wooden cross. Now, that hole had been covered by a large portion of the bridge foundation that had been destroyed when Ernest Givens fled with several thousand citizens. The names of all those who had died in the defense of Paducah were inscribed in the concrete.
Nathan knew who some of those names were without having to look.
Paducah Mayor Leslie Mitchell stepped to the podium to polite clappi
ng and some grumbling. It was rumored that when Ethan Schweitzer’s forces had encircled Paducah, he had fled, which was why Brazen was in charge of the city’s defenses. Most thought Mitchell would not be re-elected.
“Good afternoon,” Mitchell said into the microphone. “Thank you all for coming here today. As you know, nearly six months ago, this city was under siege and threatened with annihilation. Through the brave actions of many, we were saved and are still here today. Many of you were among those who fought in its defense or were forced to make the long exodus across the river.
“It is important that we remember the sacrifices of those who died. Their names are inscribed on this memorial. Names like Beau Myers, Gary Lancourt, and Timothy Walker.”
There was a murmur of “Brazen” that flowed though the crowd.
A lot of good people have died so that we could be here today, thought Nathan, yet the one everyone immortalizes was the biggest scoundrel of them all. Maybe there’s a lesson in that.
“I could talk more, but I thought it appropriate that someone who lived through those experiences should address you today and have the honor of commemorating this memorial.”
Nathan turned to Reggie with a questioning look. Reggie shrugged.
Mitchell smiled to someone off to his left. “It is my pleasure to introduce to you a man that many of you here know well, the hero of the Long Walk, Ernest Givens.”
There was wild applause from the masses along the river. Nathan looked back and saw several people were crying.
“Oh, hell,” said Nathan, “this is bad. Everyone here loves that man. He brought them back home.”
“Just smile and make the best of it,” Reggie said, clapping.
“Thank you, Mayor,” said Ernest, stepping to the podium. He started to say more, but stopped and gazed at the memorial behind him. He turned and placed his hand on the concrete and lowered his head for nearly a full minute. When he returned to the podium, he wiped his eyes with a handkerchief.
“Damn, he’s good,” whispered Nathan.
“Don’t be so jaded,” Reggie said. “He’s not faking anything, just using what’s there. It’s sincere.”
“Sorry for that,” Ernest said, and there was clapping, which rose again to a loud roar. Once it settled down, he began again. “I cannot tell you how much of an honor it is to be here today, how humbling, how...terrifying it is.”
There was a wave of laughter and someone yelled, “We love you, Ernest!”
“Thank you,” he said with a smile. “I’m terrified because I wasn’t sure how I would feel about this. I’ve talked to many of you about our shared experiences. Most of you have thanked me, but it is I who should be thanking you. We made it through that awful ordeal because of each other.”
He turned and pointed at the memorial. “This represents those who made our survival possible. They died so that many could live.”
“He’s not using notes,” Nathan muttered.
“That’s because he doesn’t need them,” said Reggie. “He’s just talking to a bunch of friends.”
“Major Beau Myers was my commander and my friend. Right before the enemy forces were about to break though, he ordered me and others to get everyone across and to blow the bridge. He knew what that meant, but he did it anyway.
“Sacrifice,” Ernest paused. “That is the essence of our survival. It always has been. Putting the welfare of others above that of one’s self.” He looked at Reggie and Nathan suggestively.
“We all want the same things. It was the same things these men and women behind me who have fallen wanted. To live in peace and provide for their family. That’s all. That was the hope of the Jackson Purchase. That was the only thing we asked for. Yet, after only two years, we have had two disastrous wars, rampant crime, food and power shortages, and now we’re hearing that our money is no good because the fuel is gone.”
There were cries and murmurs among the crowd.
“That son of a bitch,” said Nathan. “Someone told him.”
Reggie put his hand on Nathan’s leg. “Do not react to anything that is said today. Every eye is on us. If there isn’t a riot, consider it a win.”
“And what about Fulton?” Ernest asked. “Not fifty miles from here is a radioactive wasteland. It used to be filled with families, people just like you and me, trying to survive. Now they’re either sick or gone. Some of them were my friends, and no one speaks for them. Where is their memorial?”
There were angry cries from behind Nathan.
“I don’t have all the answers, folks. No one does. That’s why it’s so important for decisions to be made in public. So we don’t have nuclear bombs going off, so we don’t have all our money stolen from us, so we aren’t putting control of things that belong to all of us by right”—he looked at Reggie and Nathan again—“into the hands of a very few.”
Several spectators started clapping.
“I guess the question we have to ask ourselves, that we should have been asking all along, is…what type of world do we want to live in?” He turned and pointed at the memorial. “What type of world did they die for? The good news is the answer is in all of our hands. We live in a democracy, at least in theory. We have the power to change things if we want to.”
Ernest paused and looked out over the crowd. “I’ve had a tough time of it since we got back home. I’m sure some of you are in the same boat. I’ve recently come to realize we can’t give up and just let things flow around here. We have to decide, or things will be decided for us. That’s why I’m running for president, because we’re all in this together.”
He smiled and waved to the crowd. “Thank you all,” he said, and then turned and put his hand on the monument.
There was loud cheering, and everyone in their seats rose for a standing ovation.
“Stand,” said Reggie, rising.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes! Get up,” said Reggie, clapping. “The political damage has been done, but if this crowds turns on us, it could get ugly for everyone.”
Nathan stood and began to clap slowly.
After Ernest spoke, they played taps and had a moment of silence. Then, a number of people, including Reggie and Nathan, laid flowers at the foot of the memorial. It ended with a prayer.
“Where are you going?” Reggie asked Nathan, seeing him head towards Ernest.
“I’m going to talk to Mister Givens.”
Reggie held his arm. “It’s not the time. And since when did you become such a hothead?”
Nathan opened his mouth to answer that he wasn’t a hothead, when a soldier ran up out of breath. “General Taylor, sir?”
“Yes.”
“There’s an urgent landline call for you over at the court house.”
“Oh. hell, what now?” Nathan motioned to the soldier. “Lead the way.”
Nathan and the soldier ran to the court house a few blocks away, and Nathan picked up a phone on the county clerk’s desk. “Hello?”
“Where in the hell have to been?” an unmistakably raspy voice asked. “Do you know how long I’ve been trying to call you? I had to threaten some dumb soldier to go find you.”
“Mom?”
“Yes, who did you think it was?”
“What’s wrong?”
She paused. “It’s Bethany...she’s real bad.”
“With what?”
“Fevers, chills, delirium. Keeps losing consciousness.”
“What does the doctor say?”
“Doctor Wilson is evidently covered up right now with some sort of epidemic, but he sent one of his nurses over here.”
“So what does the nurse say?”
“Malaria,” his mother answered. “Evidently, lots of people are getting it.”
Malaria? he thought. That shouldn’t be too difficult to treat, just a round or two of antibiotics to... Oh, no.
“What’s the treatment?” he asked.
“There is none. You need to come home, son. She’s either going to p
ull through on her own or she won’t, but you need to be by her side regardless.”
“I’m on my way,” Nathan said. “Tell Bethany that I love her and I’m on my way.”
He dropped the phone and ran.
Chapter 17- Compromise
Joshua and Conrad sat on small stools by the Tennessee River with warm cups of chicory coffee in their hands. Billy Fox and Susan sat across from them.
“This is good,” said Conrad, sipping the cup.
“We try,” said Billy. “Maybe the JP would be interested in trading chicory for tobacco?”
“That’s the second time today someone from the Creek Nation has tried to work a trade deal with us,” said Joshua.
Billy spread his hands out at his side. “We are friendly neighbors. It only makes sense for us to trade.”
“I agree,” said Joshua, “but that is not our purpose in coming here.”
“Your father said you would be coming through in order to look at the people to the south,” Billy Fox said. “You must be talking about Huntsville.”
“We are,” said Conrad. “What do you know?”
Billy shrugged. “Not too much. They have a walled community south of here. We trade with some of their adjacent towns. They also have electricity.”
“Electricity?” said Joshua.
Susan nodded at him. “Seems like the JP is not the only power player in the area.”
“They’re also organized and well armed,” said Billy Fox. “Especially after Milan.”
“What about Milan?” asked Conrad.
Billy looked at them quizzically. “You don’t know?”
“We’ve been traveling. It’s not like they could call us on a cell phone.”
“We just presumed the JP knew about the attack,” said Susan.
“What attack?” asked Conrad.
“They hit the Milan Depot,” said Billy. “Killed all your guards there and burned everything they didn’t take with them.”
“Who did this?” asked Joshua.
“We talked to some people afterwards,” Billy said. “Indications are that it was a convoy from Huntsville. Some of their vehicles actually had Huntsville stickers or decals on their plates.”