by Ryan King
Forcing himself to breath slowly, he asked. “Why west?”
“Some thought that was the best option,” said Ernest, “given our equities and relations elsewhere.”
Nathan smiled ruefully. “You’re afraid I’ll stir up trouble for you with the Creek or Huntsville.”
“Among others,” answered Williams. “Count yourself lucky. Execution was on the table.”
“What about my family?”
“They have not been charged with any crimes,” Ernest said. “They may stay or go as they like, but don’t expect them to have the same privileges as when you were in charge.”
“Privileges?” asked Nathan.
“I think our business here is done, Mister President,” said Williams. “We have a dinner to prepare for.”
Nathan stared at the three men while rubbing the brand on his hand. “I sincerely hope you have a successful and uneventful term.”
“Thank you,” said Ernest. “We all agreed that will be much more likely without you around. The trooper will show you out.”
Dismissed, Nathan turned and walked out the door and up the hallways into the light.
He could feel the burden, so recently lifted, settling back upon his shoulders.
Chapter 17 – Goodbyes
Joshua stood outside and stared up at the roof of their little cabin beside the lake. A wind storm the night before had blown a large limb down and it had ripped some of the shingles away. There were other trees that were too close to the house and those could threaten the cabin if there was an ice storm. First, the fallen limb had to come off and the roof repaired before the next rain.
He saw things around the cabin that he hadn’t noticed before. The front railing leaning. Peeling paint that needed to be replaced. Nails that had worked their way out of old wood. Things neglected in all the time he had been away.
Looking towards the house, he saw Alexandra move around purposefully in the kitchen. He slowly climbed the steps and opened the door. He heard River wailing for her breakfast and Joshua found his wife in the kitchen, transferring breast milk from a hand pump to a bottle. Thankfully, Candice Roger next door had a baby several months before and was willing to share her milk, although it had been easier to store when they had refrigeration and electricity.
Alexandra glanced up at him and then back at what she was doing. “She eats more than ten grown men.”
Joshua waited for her to finish and then followed her into the second bedroom where she picked River up from a crib and put the bottle in her mouth. The crying stopped. Alexandra bounced the baby. As she fed her, Joshua realized that his wife’s face looked relaxed when she held the baby.
We lost our baby, he thought. She’s had to deal with that alone, without me.
“Did you hear about my father?” he finally asked.
Her calmness vanished as her face tightened. She nodded.
“He’s with the Mennonites now, buying wagons and teams. Quite a few people have decided to go with him. They’re actually fashioning the wagons from old pickup trucks. Using large tractor tires and such. Should make them much easier to maneuver and more reliable as well.”
“Good for him.”
“Of course, Grandmother is going. She’s already there with him. Luke Carter and Jason Green as well. Seems like no one is too high on military folks right now.”
She bent down and kissed the baby’s head.
“Conrad and his family are going, as well as some of the new folks: Simon, Jessica, and the big guy Trailer. They’re gathering in Mayfield and will be heading out tomorrow.”
Alexandra’s lips got tight, but she didn’t say anything.
“He plans on taking River,” Joshua finally said.
His wife pulled the baby closer to her. “Why? He hasn’t shown a lick of interest in her since his wife died. Besides, exile is no place for a baby. Where are they going to get milk?”
“Dad talked to Doctor Wilson, and he said goat’s milk should be fine at this stage.”
“Goat’s milk? On some dangerous trail? What if the baby gets sick or they’re attacked? What then?”
“I suppose they’ll find a way to deal with it. Babies went on Oregon Trail wagon trains all the time.”
She snorted. “A wagon train, is that what it is? So tell me, where are they going? Oregon?”
Joshua shrugged.
“Well, they’re not taking River.”
“Alexandra,” Joshua pleaded.
“No!” she hissed at him. “It’s no place for a baby. Out there, she could get sick. She could…could even…” Her face started to contort into fear.
“We could go with them,” he said.
Her anger returned with a sarcastic smile. “There it is. I’ve been waiting to hear how you were going to follow your father like you’ve followed him everywhere else. Never mind that this is our home.”
Joshua sighed. “I’m not sure this is our home anymore. Not after everything that’s happened. Everyone will know me as Nathan Taylor’s son and David Taylor’s brother. That may not be a good thing.”
“Well, I’m not leaving, and neither is River,” Alexandra said.
“My sister is not our baby,” Joshua said.
“Maybe not, but she’s more mine than his. If he wants her so badly, he can come and try to take her from me,” she declared fiercely.
“Alexandra, can you please try to be reasonable?”
“Sure. Here’s reasonable for you. I’m not leaving. So the choice you have to make is whether you’re going to go with you father or stay here with your wife.”
Joshua choked down an angry retort and ran his hand over his head. He felt the angry scars and remembered what he looked like in the mirror. Alexandra didn’t seem to see the ugliness and he didn’t feel ugly when he was with her. He wondered why he had stayed away so long. The army didn’t own him, and duty was his father’s calling, not his. Closing his eyes, he imagined the difficult farewell he would have to make.
“That’s no choice at all,” he said. “My place is with you.”
Her glare softened in surprise. “Really? You’d say goodbye to your father and grandmother and possibly never see them again to stay here with me?”
“You’re my wife,” he answered. “My best friend. Where else would I want to be?”
She came over and pressed close, the baby between them, and gave him a kiss. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“I guess I should get to work on that roof,” he said.
She shook her head. “We’ll be leaving anyway. Better start packing instead.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I always said I was going to leave Kentucky after high school anyway and never got the chance. Besides, I don’t like the vibe of this place anymore. You’re right about it maybe not being safe for you. And the hunting has become terrible. Too many people scaring off the wildlife.”
“So what was the last five minutes about?”
“I needed to know where your heart was. More than that, I wanted you to know where it was.”
“So, it was a bluff?”
Her smile slipped. “I don’t bluff.”
Joshua looked around at the inside of their cabin. “So what now?”
“You still have any gas in that Camaro outside?”
“A little.”
“Let’s pack up and get to Mayfield. We’re going to need a wagon and supplies of our own.”
Joshua nodded and started towards the back room.
“And Joshua,” she said. “Make sure we take every weapon we can get our hands on. We’re going to need them.”
Chapter 18 – Leaving Home
Four makeshift wagons, each pulled by a pair of mules, approached the long bridge over the Mississippi River leading west out of the JP. Each wagon had at least two passengers, and several spare mules as well as a dozen horses were tied to the backs of the wagons. A pair of goats also trudged along by tethers.
Nathan had traded everything he c
ould for the wagons, animals, food, and supplies. He judged it should be enough to last them a few months at least. He had also asked Luke Carter and Jason Green to steal several machine guns, rocket launchers, explosives, and a large stash of ammunition in addition to other combat items. These were hidden in special compartments between the wagons’ axles installed by the Mennonites. Each large pickup truck turned wagon had a camper top on the back to protect their contents and the passengers from the worst of the weather. Other supplies, such as spare tires and parts, were roped to the top of the campers.
A rider galloped back east along the road and stopped in front of Nathan in the seat of the first wagon.
“There’s a group gathered at the edge of the bridge,” Green said. “Couple of state police cars as well. About what we expected, but not nearly as many.”
Word of Nathan’s exile had been spread by Ernest’s subordinates. Although it had been a popular decision, scores had not been happy about the way Nathan was being treated. Many friends and neighbors came to see him and his family off. Hugs, gifts, and tearful farewells were exchanged.
Several of the visitors had warned them of the organized protest awaiting them on their way out of the JP. Most of the slander and stirring up against Nathan appeared to be coming from the new Chief of Defense Leslie Mitchell. The man and his minions were energetically and publically laying all the JP’s current faults and hardships on him.
“How nice of them to see us off,” said his mother from beside him.
Luke had ridden up on a horse beside them as well as Trailer on Wildcat. “We expecting a fight already?” asked the big man.
“Maybe,” answered Nathan, reaching back to ensure his assault rifle was ready behind him. “Best pass the word to everyone to be ready.”
Carter nodded and rode back towards the end of their wagon column. He would inform Joshua and Alexandra in the wagon behind them, Simon and Jessica after them, and then Conrad’s family which was bringing up the rear.
Green checked his own assault rifle strapped behind his saddle and then rode up ahead of them again. Nathan flicked the reins over the rumps of the mules.
Within minutes, they could see the crowds themselves. A couple dozen were on each side of the road along with a state police car, its lights flashing. Several old vehicles and bicycles and even a couple of tethered horses were nearby.
They were looking at the approaching wagons, and Nathan could hear murmurs. Four police officers stood and watched them approach with arms crossed or thumbs resting in their belts. People looked at them with suspicion and distaste. Nathan stopped the wagon in front of the first police officer.
“Come to give us a send off?” Nathan asked.
“Just told to make sure you depart when and where you were supposed to.”
Nathan didn’t like the look on the people’s faces. “We’re leaving. There’s not likely to be any trouble, is there?”
“Shouldn’t be,” the man said, but there was a suppressed grin on his face.
“All right then,” said Nathan. “Let’s go.”
Later, none of them could have said where the first rock came from, but it startled them. As if it were a signal, the crowds began yelling at them and throwing rocks.
Nathan saw a rock strike the neck of the mule to his front right. The animal squealed in pain, trying to back up, while its partner kept moving forward. The axle tongue twisted, and the wagon itself began to lift off the ground on one side. “Easy!” yelled Nathan, pulling tightly on the reins as more projectiles flew around them. One struck the side of his leg painfully.
There was a prolonged burst of automatic gunfire and the crowds dove to the ground.
Nathan managed to get the team under control and looked up to see Luke Carter pointing a smoking AR-15 at the police officers. “Is this how you want it? We got nothing to lose here. I’ll shoot every damn one of you, pick your pockets for breath mints, and be on my way. It’s your call.”
“You better get these people under control,” added Nathan to the stunned officers, the rifle now pointing at them as well, “or we can’t be responsible for what happens. I’ll not let anyone here harm my family, even if that means a bloodbath.”
One of the officers finally moved towards the crowds. “Step aside, people, and let them pass. Anything else gets thrown and you’ll spend the night in jail, I promise you.” The other three officers quickly followed their companion’s lead.
Carter rode up beside Nathan. “This isn’t how I wanted to remember this place.”
“Me neither,” answered Nathan, looking down at the brand on his hand. It reminded him of the last time he was thrown out of the JP and how Brazen had come to help him.
His mother was looking behind them east and there were tears in her eyes.
“It’s not too late,” Nathan said. “You can still stay if you want.”
She shook her head. “No. This is for the best. Just feels sad to be leaving home. I’ve lived here all my life.”
“I know. I’ll find us a new home out there. Someplace to start over. To build a new home.”
“Well, we’ll never get there if you don’t stop talking and get moving,” she said.
Nathan smiled and slapped the reins on the rumps of the mules. They clattered across the Mississippi River and out of the JP forever.
Epilogue
Lieutenant General Teddy Smits read the reports in front of him just as he had the day before that and the day before that and every day for the past two years or more. There was little else to do in Cheyenne Mountain, and it was important to establish a routine or you’d lose your cornflakes. At least that’s what the shrinks said.
The intel reports were pretty much limited to radio intercepts and some satellite imagery at this point. Although they had contact with some other isolated outposts, they had discovered that these elements were extremely unreliable. Several had stopped communicating over the last few months.
The Jackson Purchase communication had been promising for all its brevity, but no one there would answer their calls now. Site Conway was obviously lost. It wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last, Smits knew.
Smits put aside the report about the latest Alaskan Free State broadcast and shook his head at the next report in the small pile. It concerned Admiral Young, the former Seventh Fleet Commander. After launching everything he had at China at N-Day—plus one, as had been his orders—Young had moved with his fleet to Australia, which provided sanctuary. Since then, he had urged any and all remaining U.S. naval ships to come to him and dozens had.
Recently, the man had gone a step further and held presidential elections. He bragged that he had received nearly one hundred percent of the “American” vote—all from sailors and marines serving under him. Smits now claimed to be the U.S. President and to head the government from the U.S. Embassy in Canberra.
“What is it?” he growled at the knock on his door.
A uniformed officer stepped in and closed the door. Smits noted the man looked unusually nervous. “Yes, Commander Porter?”
“Sir, I just reviewed the report on the latest radiation levels around Cheyenne Mountain.”
“And?”
“Still dangerously high, sir. Around twelve kilo-rads, which is not surprising considering we took five hits within a twenty-mile radius.”
“So…no change?”
“No, sir.”
“Okay, thank you,” said Smits, turning back to his reading.
“But the techs keep saying the levels should have dissipated by now. Twelve kilo-rads is far too dangerous to go out in radiation suits. After this much time, it should be below five hundred rads, they say, but all the sensors agree, and they can’t all be wrong. One or two maybe, but not dozens.”
“Yes, commander, we’ve been over this. The big brains can’t figure out why is hasn’t lowered, but all are in agreement. We can’t crack the seal on the facility.”
“Exactly, but one of the techs realized that all o
f those sensors feed into one relay control module. He also noticed that twelve kilo-rads was exactly the level which the radiation peaked on N-Day, plus five. It was virtually impossible for the levels not to have gone down at all.”
Smits looked up with a sigh. “Commander, what are you trying to tell me?”
“The relay module burned out, sir. It was overloaded. Once we replaced the module, we got different radiation level results.”
“And what are they now?” Smits asked, leaning his chair back on two legs. He thought how fantastic it would be to have a cigarette.
“They range from between ninety to one hundred twenty rads.”
All four chair legs slammed to the floor. “Have you verified this?”
“We’ve checked everything at least ten times. The new readings are accurate, sir.”
Smiling, the general looked up at the ceiling. “This means we can go outside.”
“Yes, sir. The techs say we don’t want to be playing in the dirt or drinking any of the water around here for a good long while, but going outside for short periods should result in minimal exposure.”
Smits rubbed his face and smiled.
“With your permission, sir, I’d like to lead a reconnaissance around the mountain. Possibly even to the bases near Colorado Springs.”
“Agreed,” Smits answered. “Take a detachment and go in NBC vehicles just in case. Make sure we have good comms. Short recon only, three or four hours at most.”
“Yes, sir,” the man smiled and departed.
Smits knew what Porter was smiling about. None of them had felt the sun on their faces or smelled fresh air in years. He looked back down at the report on Admiral Young. President indeed. This changed everything.
Closing the folder with the intelligence reports, he put them aside and typed on his computer. After several minutes, he found the folder he wanted.
Continuity of Operations.
The ambiguous title was typical government understatement. It was in fact a plan for the reestablishing of the United States after it had suffered a crippling nuclear, meteorological, or biological attack. Cheyenne Mountain was designed to be the center of any recovery from catastrophic devastation. Not only did the hollowed-out mountain facility contain resources and people to rebuild, it had all the knowledge of where hundreds of smaller unmanned facilities existed around the country.