by Nathan Combs
At the Bradley, Bill briefed Randal on the death of the Colonel and that the perp was Horst Nagel.
Randal said, “Didn’t take him long, did it?”
“Yeah, well… let’s go see what we can see.”
Tobin was drooling over the Bradley. “Holy shit. I ain’t never been in a tank b’fore.”
It didn’t take long to find The Colonel’s grave because one of his hands was sticking out of the ground. Tobin identified the remains and appeared to be more disturbed by the porn collection than by the death of his leader. “Ya think these books b’longed t’ him?”
“Why else would they be in his grave? Does it matter?”
“Naw, not really. It jest— You know, it kinda bothers me we bin following a fuckin’ fag all this time.”
Bill said, “Get over it. You have more to worry about than a dead pervert. Where do you think Horse and the others went?”
“Ah ain’t got a clue.”
Randal asked, “Can you get all of Nirvana to meet in one place so we could talk to them?”
“Well… it ma’ht take awhile, but I reckin’ some the boys could round ever’one up. Where’d ya all wanna meet?”
Bill marked an open field on the map and showed him. “Tell them to camp here. I want all the women and kids from the Bitch Pool there too. Can you make that happen, Tobin?”
“Yeah. Ah think so. Are you our new leader?”
“Kinda.”
At dusk, thousands of bodies packed the field and, for the first time since Simmons formed Nirvana, the women and kids joined the men around the warmth and light of the campfires. At the west end of the field, two large bonfires burned. Between them, Randal stood in the top hatch of the Bradley, a Hummer on either side. Horse patrol snipers were concealed in hides a hundred yards out to secure the entire field.
Randal keyed the PA system. “Good evening. My name is Randal Coltrane. I was a captain in the United States Army. Green Berets. My men were all Special Operations. We are from a village to the north and came here to talk to your leader, the Colonel. He is dead. He was killed by a man named Horst. Horst is our enemy, and now, is your enemy. He is a cannibal. He left here with several hundred of your men and women. It is doubtful those people know who he is. It is certain they do not know he eats human beings. It has also been discovered that your dead leader was fond of young children and had an extensive pornographic collection depicting explicit sexual acts with little boys.”
He scanned the crowd allowing that information to sink it.
A low murmur began and quickly reached a crescendo. Jaws dropped. Eyes doubled in size.
Randal waited until they were silent, then said, “My men and I are here to ensure there is peace in this area. You may not know that few humans remain on Earth. The guess is less than a million. You do know the weather has turned colder. We believe an Ice Age, or at least a mini Ice Age, is in our near future. If you want to survive, you have to work as a team. You must grow food this season if you want to make it through next winter. Your ex-leader had a warped idea of a woman’s place in society. It’s obvious he did not like children. I know you men understand freedom and that you know right from wrong. We do not intend to interfere in your lives or tell you how to live, except to say that from this moment forward, women are free to choose their own destiny, and children will be treated with the respect and given the care they deserve. You need leaders. We are going to help you form a council to govern yourselves. Those among you who are honest and capable of leading, step forward and be recognized.”
A prolonged silence followed. Randal let it play out. After a long three minutes, a man appeared to the left and walked toward the Bradley. Another made his way through the center of the crowd and pushed toward the front. The two men stood in front of the Bradley and looked up at Randal. He nodded. They turned and faced the crowd.
Randal keyed the mic. “We have two candidates. We should have three more.”
One more man and two women came forward.
Randal talked briefly to all five. He brought them to the top of the Bradley one at a time and handed them the mic. In turn, they introduced themselves to the crowd and stated their qualifications. The group’s experience covered accounting, a school board member, a security guard, a veterinarian, and a mayor from a small town.
When they were finished, Randal said, “Are there any objections to these five people as your leaders?”
Some shook their heads no; others shrugged their shoulders. Most just looked dumbstruck, as if the past four years had robbed them of the capability of making simple decisions.
“Good. These five will represent each of you. Their decisions will be made jointly. Majority will rule. I suggest you hold them to their honor. I also suggest you rename your group. There is one other thing. For the time being, we are imposing travel restrictions to the north. Until we know you can be trusted and that we can interact with you safely, none of you may proceed north of Cleveland, Tennessee. If you do, we will consider it a hostile act and will take the necessary action. When you prove you are worthy, we will consider your group for admission into our territories, which is called Olympia. God speed and good luck to you all.”
The top hatch closed and the Bradley and two Hummers disappeared into the night.
In the command center, over a breakfast of instant eggs and TVP (Textured Vegetable Protein) sausage, Wade and Stuart were listening to Randal retell the Nirvana mission.
“Bottom line, I don’t think we have anything to fear from Nirvana, but of course, we’ll need to keep tabs on their development. I suggest we send regular patrols to check on their progress. As for Horst, that’s a dog of a different color. Unfortunately, we have no idea where he went. I think we worry about him if and when the time comes. He won’t be sneaking up on us anytime soon.”
Wade said, “Well, that went better than I’d hoped. What does your gut say?”
“It looks like there’s about thirty-five hundred people there. There’s no organization and overall, as you know, they’re not very bright. But—and it’s a big but—before the shit hit the fan, they were “good ol’ boys.” They generally did the right thing, knew right from wrong, were family-oriented. They were mechanics, welders, machinists, carpenters, farmers, and etcetera. They could be productive again if motivated. If their leaders are strong enough and fair enough, they have a chance. I’m betting a faction won’t want to go with the flow; they’ll splinter off. Time will tell.”
Chapter Twelve
Splinter
Noah and Anna converted a portion of the standalone three-car garage into a stable for their new mounts. Busy currying them, Noah paused with brush in hand and said, “I need to find out if my sister and mother are Nirvana slaves. I can’t figure out a way to do it. I screwed up leaving Jesse alive. I’m sure he told whoever about the guy with one green and one blue eye. And I can’t take you there for obvious reasons and… ” He couldn’t continue, finding himself at a loss for words.
“What about colored contacts? There’s an optometrist shop in Delano. Maybe they have some lying around. I don’t think those would have been high on a scavenger’s list.”
“That’s a heck of an idea, Anna. It’s too late to go today, though. We’ll check it out tomorrow. What’s for supper?”
“Leftovers. And if you’re a good boy, you get pie for dessert.”
“What kind of pie?”
She smiled.
Dawn broke clear and bitterly cold the next morning. Not that Noah expected anything different, and Delano was as dead as the last time they were there too. The optometrist’s shop was next to what remained of the hardware store. The door was hanging by one hinge and flopped feebly in the breeze. Window glass and debris covered the floor. “It looks like they trashed the place for the hell of it. They sure as hell couldn’t have been loo
king for anything.”
Anna nodded. “Yeah, so maybe they didn’t actually destroy what we need. Let’s see if we can find those contacts.”
“Where the hell do we start?”
“You look out here, in the drawers and cabinets of the display stations, then the reception area; I’ll check the back for a product supply room.”
Anna could hear Noah throwing stuff around in the front part of the store. She searched what appeared to have been the doctor’s office and, under a broken desk drawer in a corner of the room, she found a box of colored contacts. There were at least a dozen different colors.
She walked triumphantly into the front. “Eureka!” She grinned and handed the box to Noah. “Try the brown ones.”
“I’ve never worn contacts. I don’t know how to put them in.”
“Neither do I, but… ”—she thought hard for a moment—“I remember… I remember watching a basketball player put some in on TV. They stopped the game until he got… you know… got them back on, or in, or whatever. Some memory, huh?”
“Okay, but how do I do it?”
“I think you put it on the tip of your finger, tilt your head back, and just… sort of slide it in.”
“I love it when you talk dirty.”
Anna laughed. “Give it a try.”
After two attempts, the contacts were in, and Noah blinked, then looked at Anna.
“Whoa!” she said. “What a difference.”
“Well, that solves the identity problem.”
“You know I’m going with you.”
“Anna—”
“I’m safer with you than anywhere else in the world. Besides, we’re a team. I’m going.”
Noah was getting to know the nuances of Anna’s personality. When she stated things in a matter-of-fact tone and held her mouth a certain way, he knew getting her to change her mind would require an Act of God. This time she added locked jaws to the equation and he acquiesced, grinned, and said, “Okay.”
Back home, they worked up a game plan. Anna would hide somewhere nearby, perhaps on a rooftop, and cover him with the M4 while he infiltrated Nirvana.
Two days later, they’d followed his earlier route and stood at the edge of the tree line above the Racetrack gas station. “This entire area was full of camps when I came through here. The smoke was so thick I had to use a respirator. There was horse traffic on the road. A lot of it, too.”
No campfires were visible and nothing moved. “Let’s get out of these trees so we can get a better look. Stay behind me.”
At the western side of the Racetrack, they had a good view of the western horizon and, though the sky was lowering and threatening snow, faint columns of smoke were visible in the distance. “Let’s go.”
On the roof of an old Burger King a half hour later, Noah glassed a housing development. People were working on the exterior of several buildings. They were busy patching roofs, fixing doors, and replacing broken windows. Hundreds more were performing other chores.
Noah said, “Unless I’m imagining it, those are women and kids working with the men.”
He handed the binoculars to Anna.
“Definitely women and children. What now?”
He thought for a minute, cupped her chin, and said, “I’m goin’ down there. You stay here. Keep the glass on me. If something happens, you have to promise me you’ll leave. Don’t be a hero. Okay?”
“I can’t promise you that, Noah. You know that. Just be careful.”
Noah knew better than to argue with her, so he kissed her, and in his best terminator voice said, “I’ll be back.”
She smiled and pulled him in for a hug and departing kiss, then watched him go.
The closer he got to the people working in the development the more he was convinced they couldn’t possibly know everyone, thus those viewing him as an outsider or a threat shouldn’t be a concern. He emerged from cover just enough to stand beside a bush at the edge of the tree line and watched. No one paid attention. No one was concerned. He walked slowly up the nearest street and introduced himself to the first couple he came to. “Hi. My name’s Noah.” He offered his hand.
The man took it and said, “Mah name’s Burt. This is my woman, Jessica.”
“Hi, Jessica.”
The woman nodded, smiled, and said, “Hi.”
“I was here a couple of months ago, but the Colonel sent me on a long errand. Just getting back. What’s goin’ on?”
Burt said, “Lot’s happened since you was here last, Son. Sit yourself down ’n I’ll tell ya ’bout it. Jess, get us a cup, will ya? Thanks, hun.”
Burt explained that a man named Horse killed the Colonel and left with about five hundred men and women. He told him about the Colonel’s fetish for little boys, and about the soldiers who came in Hummers and a tank who freed the women. “They said Horse was a cannibal and that he was our enemy. They laid down the law too. We have us a council now who runs things; three men and two women. They’re called the Council of Five. They’s a bunch of guys who di’n’t wanna be part of no new society here ’n they took off by theyselves.”
“Wow. I di’n’t much like the Colonel, anyway. Actually glad he’s gone. Never did agree with his view o’ wimen. Where’d this Horse guy go?”
“Nobody knows.”
“Okay. Where’s the council at?”
“They’re up at the Colonel’s old house. That-a-way,” he pointed west, “that big ol’ white house with the gate. But, hell, ya already knew that. Sorry.”
“Actually, ah was never invited up there. Got mah orders through his lieutenant.”
“Ransom?”
“Yeah. I think that was his name.”
“He went with Horse.”
“How many people are left in Nirvana?”
“Not sure, ’xac’ly. Maybe twenty-five huner’d; maybe three thou’. But it ain’t called Nirvana no more. We’re The Patriots. Women are free now. It’s a good thang.”
“That’s great news, Burt. ’Bout time too. What about the guys that didn’t want to be Patriots? Where did they go?”
“They still call themselves Nirvana. Ah’m guessin’ they went north to Cleveland. They’re fucked up. Mean bastards.”
“How many are there?”
“’Bout fifty, I reckon. Took twenty sum wimen with ’em too.”
“What about the guys with the tank? Where are they from?”
“Up north somewhere. We ain’t allowed north of Cleveland ’til we prove we’re not dangerous to them.”
“How many were there?”
“Dunno. There was one tank and two Hummers. They said they was Special Operations. Good guys.”
“I assume you were a captive, Jessica. I’m lookin’ for my sister and mother. Name’s Dana Wallace and Naomi Wallace.”
“Ah knew all the wimen. Never heard of those two. Sorry.”
Noah finished his cup of chicory coffee, thanked them, and walked back to Anna.
Anna was pleased with the result. “I’m sorry about your mother and sister, Noah, but the rest is pretty good news. Don’t you think?”
“It was a long shot, but… yeah… the rest of it is definitely good news. Let’s head home. We can get there by dark. We have a lot to think about.”
“Don’t you want to talk to the council?”
“Not right now. There’s nothing to talk about. Let’s give them a month or so to get organized.”
During the four-hour journey, Noah was quiet while his mind considered all the possibilities of where his mom and sister could have been when the shit hit the fan. Anna, sensing his inner conflict, kept her eye on him but rode in silence alongside.
Three months had made a tremendous difference in the livability of their home. It was not
only cozy and comfortable, but with the exception of electricity, had all the comforts of modern man. After a dinner of warmed-up leftover venison stew, they crashed in sleeping bags near the warmth of the living room stove.
Noah’s father had the foresight to store over a ton of hard red wheat, dehydrated eggs, milk, and maple syrup mixture. He woke to the sounds and smells of Anna making pancakes for breakfast. He moved to the stove, put his arms around her, nuzzled her neck, and said good morning. After a brief kiss, he moved to the kitchen table and began working on his to-do list. Out of the corner of her eye, Anna watched his facial expressions change as he concentrated, nodding his head in silent approval, then writing on his pad.
God, I love him.
In the process of flipping a pancake, an image burst into her mind. Then another. Two more, then a continuous stream of blurry black and white images began to flicker through her mind. They were overwhelming and she lost her grip on the spatula. It turned sideways and the pancake she was flipping slid onto the floor with a plop.
Noah looked up. Anna was frozen with a look of horror on her face. He bolted out of the chair, knocking it over, and put his arms around her. “What’s wrong?”
She didn’t respond. Her eyes were huge, her mouth was stuck open in an “O,” and her pulse was off the charts. Noah picked her up and carried her to the couch.
She stiffened. Then as quickly as it started, she relaxed and her heart rate slowed. She shook her head from side to side and looked fearfully at Noah.
“What is it, Anna? Talk to me.”
“I don’t know. Images… a lot of them. They were blurry. Frightening. Do you think they were memories?”
“Probably. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She sniffed and ran her fingers through her hair. “My pancakes!” She almost knocked Noah down getting to the stove. The pancakes were toast. Burned toast. She laughed. “I guess we could use these as Frisbees. They’re hard enough. I’ll make you some more.”