One Man's War

by Thomas J. Wolfenden

  “Do you want more coffee?” Holly asked, finished with her food, and standing with her empty plate.

  “I’ll get it myself, Babe,” he said, standing and taking his plate over to the sink. Holly passed her plate over to him, and he took it from her. “I’ll clean up; you go and do what you need to do.”

  “Thanks,” she said with a smile, as the sound of a Hum-Vee pulling up outside made them both turn their heads. “That’s probably Juan. I’d better go.”

  “Tell Taco I said hi,” he said, “and I’ll be keeping an eye on him!”

  “I will do no such thing, Timothy!” Holly said, kissing him on the cheek. “You take care of yourself today, and I’ll be back later.”

  “Is that an order, Flight Leftenant MacFarland?”

  “Aye, it is!”

  “Okay, wilco, Ma’am!” he said.

  Tim busied himself with the washing up, wishing for running water. Jerry said that they were still working on it, but might have it ready by the end of the week. A hot shower would feel wonderful. At least they had the electricity on, and that was a luxury.

  He finished washing up the dishes from breakfast, poured himself another cup of coffee, and retrieved his pipe from a table by the front door. He took both and went out the shade of the lanai and sat in a rocking chair.

  He filled the bowl with tobacco, tamping it down, and then lighting it with a wooden match. He puffed a few times to get it going, and sat back, looking out over the yard onto the empty street.

  Taking another sip of his coffee, he looked to the north and saw a rising plume of smoke several miles away. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement, and turned to look. The figure of a large black man, walking with military precision, had rounded the corner and was heading in his direction.

  When the man saw Tim on the lanai, he smiled and picked up his pace. HE came through the gate and up the path to the porch, and bounded up the three steps effortlessly. It was Staff Sergeant Jerome Williams, or Jerry as he liked to be called, a man Tim now considered to be his best friend, or as much as a friend a sergeant major could have.

  “I’d have thought there wouldn’t be any more bodies to burn,” Tim remarked to him.

  “Yeah, I thought the same thing, but we keep on finding more here and there. I figure burning them is the easiest thing to do with them,” Jerry said, sitting down on a chair next to Tim.

  “Probably the best way,” Tim agreed, and then noticed Jerry had a canvas satchel with him. “What’s in the bag?”

  “I keep on forgetting to bring this over to you,” Jerry said, handing Tim the bag. Tim took the offered bag, and looked at Jerry skeptically. “Beware of 25th Infantry pukes bearing gifts,” Tim said with a grin, and opened the bag. He smiled when he saw what was inside. It was his M3 grease gun, and ten new 30 round magazines. He let out an appreciative whistle. “I thought that was lost forever!”

  “I found the magazines in one of the bunkers back on Volivoli, but never got around to giving them to you. They were still wrapped in wax paper, covered in Cosmoline, like they had rolled out of the factory yesterday. The gun was well rusted from your swim in the ocean, but I cleaned it up and oiled it for you.”

  Tim hefted the gun, opening the bolt to inspect the chamber. “Nice job, Jerry. Thanks.”

  “That Aussie captain wanted us to toss all of our weapons over the side when he brought us aboard. Damn near had a revolt on his hands. None of my men were going to give up their guns, even though we had no ammo left,” Jerry sighed.

  “No shit?” Tim said. “Well, thanks for saving this for me, we go way back together.”

  “He was a real stickler, a real old school sailor. And for being an Aussie, he sounded and acted very British.”

  “I’m glad he found us when he did.”

  “Yeah, me too, you were almost dead. I figured another day, well…” Jerry trailed off.

  “So they’ve gone back to Australia?” Tim asked.

  “They sailed yesterday. They hung around for a while, getting the ship provisioned, and then yesterday, without as much as a ‘thank you ma’am’, they were gone.”

  “That’s a shame. I wanted to thank them and the doctor who patched me up,” Tim said, puffing at his pipe. He set the satchel on the deck by his chair.

  “You can still say thanks to that doctor. He decided to stick around, along with several other Aussies, civilians mostly. I don’t think he was all that happy about it, the Aussie skipper that is, but he got some people from here to replace them. I figure it was a fair trade.”

  “Sorry I haven’t been able to get around much except for the last week or so.”

  “Ah, shit Tim. Don’t even worry about that. You needed to heal up.”

  Tim stood and picked up his now empty coffee mug. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

  “I’ll get it, Tim, you sit here,” Jerry said, taking the cup from Tim, and going into the house. Tim watched the smoke from the pyre for a few minutes until Jerry came back out with two coffee cups. He handed one to Tim, and sat back down.

  “So what else is going on?” Tim asked, taking the offered mug.

  “We should have the water on here in town by Friday. And the power is on now over almost the entire island.”

  “Any other problems?”

  “Last week a kid tried to break into a house a few blocks away. The guy living there decided to beat the dogshit out of the kid. Other than that, no problems,” Jerry said, a little disgusted.

  “Break in? What the fuck for? I mean, shit. If you want something, you can go and take it from anywhere. Why break into a house where people are living?”

  “I’ll ask the kid when his jaw heals. Got his jaw broken in the process.”

  “He’s lucky he didn’t get shot.”

  “I know. Now that society is coming back, I guess some of the old problems are coming with it.”

  “Do you have a plan?” Tim asked.

  “Yeah, I already got a few guys I sort of ‘deputized’, and one of the guys from 25th was an MP, so he’s putting together a police patrol of sorts.”

  “Good idea,” Tim agreed with a nod and gazed out towards the funeral pyre.

  Jerry sighed. “I wish the end of the world wasn’t so damn hard.”

  “Jerry, the world didn’t end. I still don’t know what happened, but it didn’t end. It will keep on spinning for a few more years, I reckon.”

  “I guess,” Jerry said, then changed the subject. “I understand you guys have decided to go back to the mainland?”

  “That we did, Jerry. Holly is over at Hickam right now with Taco and Robyn, checking out another Hercules.”

  “I’d hate to see you go,” Jerry said after a moment.

  “We’ll be in touch, and we’ll probably be back at some point.”

  “I know, but I could use your help here.”

  “Jerry, stop selling yourself short. You’re doing a hell of a job. We’ll get back to Arizona and set up shop there. We’ll only be a radio call away.”

  “Oh, and another thing,” Jerry said, “the ensign, and the other sailor from the, oh I don’t know, pirate ship? They’ve got some hare-brained idea of going to San Francisco, and finding some old Liberty Ship that’s supposed to be there. They figure on being some new-age merchant marines, setting up a trade route between there and Hawaii.”

  “No shit, a Liberty Ship?”

  “Yeah, they floated the idea past me the other day. I thought I’d better let you in on their plans.”

  “Why tell me?” Tim asked, perplexed at Jerry’s tone.

  “Hell, I thought I had to. Everyone here thinks of you as the head of what’s left.”

  “Ah shit, Jerry. I’m just some broke-dick soldier. I’m not the head of anything,” Tim said, holding up his hands.

  “Anyway, that’s their plan.” Jerry replied with a shrug, “And one of the Aussie civilians, he thinks he can get the railroads back on the mainland up and running again. He plans on some new trad
e route in the States leading to ‘Frisco, then our fair sailors transporting shit from there to here,” Jerry added, sipping on his now tepid coffee.

  “Well I’ll be dipped in dogshit.” Tim let out a sigh and leaned back in the rocker, puffing on the pipe, deep in thought.

  “To be honest, Tim, it’s not a bad idea at all.”

  “I agree. There are a lot of variables, too, though. Like actually finding something or someone to trade with, finding anyone at all, really.”

  “I agree. To get back to what I said earlier, you are the head of this mob. After what you did on Volivoli, word has spread quickly. Everyone here in Hawaii, sees you as our leader.”

  “I’m no leader. Not anymore. I just want to be left alone, get Holly and Robyn back to our home in Arizona, and bring up my son or daughter in quiet and peace,” he said with a little frustration.

  “Okay, Tim. I’ll leave it be for now,” Jerry said with resignation, and finished his coffee.

  “I’m sorry, Jerry. I didn’t mean to sound like I was jumping down your throat.”

  “Hey, it’s okay. I do understand. I never wanted any of this either. Here I am, though, and people on the island are looking up to me. Looking at me to make things right, to get everything back to the way they were. They’re also looking at you. They know what you did, what you’ve been through.”

  “Then they should know I want to be left alone,” Tim sighed, knowing that his wish wouldn’t be granted.

  He sat back and puffed on his pipe, looking out at the smoke from the funeral pyre again, his mind wandering back over the last few years; back to that horrible morning, so many years ago. When he found the two bodies in the snow in front of St. Dominic’s that first long, lonely winter in Philadelphia, when the realization finally sunk in that he was the only one left.

  And then to the time when he’d met Paul, that poor soul, and his horrible fate that he could’ve prevented… finding Robyn, then Izzy and Holly. Sometimes he’d think it was all a terrible nightmare and he’d soon wake up.

  “Let me ask you something, Jerry,” he said after a moment. “You said they want to get everything back to the way it was. Do we really want that, things back to the way it was?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The wars, the poverty, the crooked politicians? Sure, we all want the power back on. We all want a hot shower and clean clothes, but at what cost? Me, I want to be left alone,” Tim said, putting his pipe down and turning to face Jerry.

  “I understand. I do. But you’ve got to understand that people look up to you now, Tim. Not just soldiers. It’s everyday people, who see you as a guiding light in all this craziness.”

  “I don’t know about all that,” Tim replied with a gruff, dismissive laugh.

  “I do know one thing. I’d rather have you, than some nutcase like that crazy captain.”

  Tim laughed again at that. “Yeah, I see what you mean.”

  “Let’s just hope that there’s no one else like him out there,” Jerry said. “I know it’s a bit much to contemplate right now, but the people will listen to you, even if it’s just for advice.”

  With that said, Jerry stood. “I should be getting back. You think about what I said, Tim. Even if you go back to Arizona, we’ll still need your advice.”

  Tim stood also, and shook Jerry’s outstretched hand. “I’ll think about it. You’re doing a good job here all by yourself though.”

  “There are little enclaves popping up, all over the place. We talk to them on the Ham radio—Europe, South America, Russia. They’ve all heard what you did, and ask all the time what you think. I haven’t given you all the messages, because I’d need a goddamn dump truck to deliver them.”

  Tim was dumbstruck. “Listen, Tim. Listen hard, and let it sink in. The world needs you.”

  “Needs me? Needs me for what?” Tim snapped. He caught himself, and backtracked, calming his voice. “I’m sorry, Jerry. It’s a little too much to think about.”

  “I know you’ll be here for a bit longer. Think about what I’ve said. Talk to Holly about it, she’s a smart lady.”

  “I will,” Tim promised, wishing he didn’t have to. “Thanks for cleaning up my piece.”

  “No problem, Sergeant Major,” Jerry said with a toothy grin. “I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  After Jerry left, Tim picked up both coffee mugs and took them into the kitchen, suddenly feeling like the whole world was resting on his shoulders. And wasn’t that exactly what Jerry was talking about?

  He decided to take a walk, to think. He walked out the back door and across the yard that led directly to the beach. He sat down under a coconut palm and removed his boots and socks, leaving them by the tree, and set off down the empty beach. He figured that it would have been crowded with tourists in years past; now it was completely empty, and that suited him. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts.

  As he made his way down the deserted beach, Tim mulled over what Jerry had told him, and laughed to himself. He thought about that meeting with Dawn Redeagle on the prairies of Nebraska so long ago, and of his Indian prophesies.

  It couldn’t be that simple, could it? He didn’t feel special. Not in the slightest. He felt old and frail. Try as he might, he couldn’t imagine himself being anything other than Tim Flannery, formerly of Philadelphia. He’d be hitting the big five-oh this year, he remembered, and he was going to be a dad. He’d brought up Robyn okay, and this child that he and Holly were expecting was going to be the only challenge he wanted.

  After an hour of walking, he turned to look back on the way he came. The waves had washed away his footprints. He could barely see the bungalow the three of them shared, and all of a sudden he felt very tired. He sat down on the sand at the high tidemark and looked out towards the empty sea.

  The sun was sinking in the west, and he figured he only had a few more hours of sunlight. Where had the day gone? Had he daydreamed the whole afternoon away?

  He sat for a long while, looking out at the water, watching the waves tumble over on top of themselves. The weather was pleasant, not too hot, and there was a cool breeze coming off of the ocean that cooled his skin. He leaned back on his elbows and closed his eyes, savoring the feelings, when he was startled by a voice.

  “Aloha!”

  Tim turned to see a boy with an unruly mop of dark hair standing a few feet from him. The boy was darkly tanned and wore only a pair of cut-off shorts.

  “Well aloha to you too,” Tim said with a friendly smile. He looked around, but there were no signs of houses anywhere near this part of the beach. “Where did you come from?”

  “I came from over there,” the boy said with a toothy grin, pointing vaguely in the direction of the trees, then sat down next to Tim in the sand. “Are you waiting for the Big Kahuna?”

  Tim gave the boy a once-over and decided he couldn’t be any more than five years old, born after the Event, he presumed. He then thought of the ensign’s boy, Billy. He was around the same age.

  “I’m sitting here and thinking. Who’s the Big Kahuna?”

  “He’s our protector! My mom and dad told me all about him,” the boy said, giving Tim a look as if saying ‘sheesh, don’t you know anything?’

  “He’s our protector, huh?”

  “Yeah, he came from the mainland, from far away. He destroyed the bad men who were attacking us. Now he’s here, and is our Great Protector!”

  “That’s amazing,” Tim said.

  “Yeah. My mom and dad told me he watches over us all, and will always protect us now,” the boy said, digging absently in the sand.

  It was all a little too much for Tim to wrap his head around. Could this kid actually be talking about me? He thought. That was a laugh. Now he’d turned into some legend, like some mythical god from Valhalla.

  “My mom and dad said the Big Kahuna came from the time before… he must be old.”

  “How old do you reckon he is?” Tim asked with a barely hidden smile.

&
nbsp; “He’s really old! Like maybe a hundred years old even!” he exclaimed with wide eyes.

  “Wow, a hundred years old, eh? He must be ancient.”

  “Yeah!” he said, and then his face darkened. “Do you know what it was like in the time before?”

  “Yeah, I do. That was a long time ago.”

  “My mom cries sometimes at night about it. It must have been nice.” He tossed some sand away, now digging a trench.

  “What’s your name?” Tim asked.

  “I’m Jimmy. Who are you?”

  “I’m Tim. Nice to meet you, Jimmy,” Tim said, offering his hand to shake, and the boy took it. “It’s getting late, why don’t we get you home, okay?”

  “Okay,” Jimmy said with a grin and stood up, brushing the sand from his hands theatrically.

  “Which way is home?” Tim asked when he stood himself.

  “That way, c’mon!” Jimmy said, and took Tim’s hand, leading him towards his house.

  They walked through some bushes onto a narrow path, and soon Tim could see a quaint bungalow not unlike the one he now shared with Robyn and Holly emerge from the tropical flora.

  He could see a light in one of the windows, and then he could hear a woman’s voice singing a song he’d never heard. It sounded to Tim like a Hawaiian native song, and the woman who was singing had a beautiful voice. Jimmy let go of his hand and went running up to the back door.

  “Mom! I found a man on the beach!” he yelled, and Tim laughed.

  The woman came to the door and opened it, wiping her hands on a hand towel, her face blanching when she saw Tim. “Jimmy, go inside and wash up for supper.”

  “Okay, Mom!” Jimmy said, rushing by her into the house and out of sight. The woman relaxed a little and came towards him. Like a lot of native born islanders, she was a mix of Polynesian and what looked like Japanese. In her mid-thirties, long, dark hair, she was very attractive.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to startle you. I met your boy on the beach, and since it was getting late, I thought I’d better make sure he got home alright,” Tim said, offering his hand. “I’m Tim Flannery.”

  “I know who you are,” she said a little abruptly, taking his hand.