by Nathan Combs
Ransom swallowed hard, his throat stuck on Horst’s hand, and blinked.
Quartered at the Embassy Suites, which looked more like a brick fort than a hotel, Horst entered the meeting room ten minutes later to a total absence of order. These guys can’t even spell protocol. Men and women lounged around drinking and making out. They didn’t even notice he’d entered. He stood for a moment watching. Disgusted, he went to the podium, pulled his Glock, and fired three rounds into the ceiling.
They froze and stared.
He screamed, “I don’t know who you think you are, but this is not a fucking glee club. When I call a meeting and enter the room, I want your asses sitting at attention. If you can’t do that, I can rectify your problem.” He pointed the Glock at them.
There was silence but no movement.
“Get your fat butts up, put these chairs in neat rows, and stand at attention.”
Statues!
At the top of his voice, he yelled, “Now!”
In their haste to put the chairs in rows, a man fell and was kicked in the head.
“Mutha fucker!” he screamed. He jumped up and punched another man in the head.
The man went down but bounced up and started swinging. “Fuckin’ douchebag.”
Others grabbed the combatants and pulled them apart. When the epithets ended seconds later and after several additional misfires, they stood at a semblance of attention and faced an angry Horst.
I’m fucking doomed.
Horst yelled, “I don’t know where your heads are at, but they aren’t screwed on straight. If you think we’re home free and life will be one big fuckin’ vacation, think again. When those assholes from Fort Hope find out where we went—and they will—they’ll be hunting us. Unless you make real progress and put forth the effort, you’ll all be dead. You have one function… to learn. That requires discipline. I’m done wasting my time with you assholes. If you’re not willing to put forth the effort, I’ll leave your sorry asses to your own devices. That means you’ll be cut loose. On your own. Fucked! Who wants in and who wants out? Ins line up to the left. If you want out, get on the right. Do it now!”
Four hundred forty-two men and women looked confused. Some lined up on the left while others went right. Horst watched them milling about. Ransom said, “Uh, boss… which left are we ’sposed t’ go to?”
Horst took a deep breath and exhaled. In a calm voice, he pointed to his right. “That left over there, Ransom.”
The migration to “that left” was instantaneous and complete.
Staring malevolently at his army, Horst shook his head slowly and paced back and forth in front of them. The only sound was from his heels tapping the stage while turning to walk another line. When he stopped, he turned to face them and said, “What goes through your heads is beyond me, but these are the facts. One—the world we knew is gone. Two—if we don’t function as a well-disciplined unit, we will cease to exist. Three—our lives will never be simple or easy. Not ever! Four—in case it hasn’t dawned on you, it’s getting colder. I don’t think it will ever be warm again. Which means finding food is going to be increasingly difficult. How do you think we’re going to get that food?”
They stared.
“Anybody?”
Nothing.
“There are only three ways to get food. One—take what we need from others. Two—grow our own. And three—and this is not a great option—we eat whatever there is to eat. That includes other humans.”
That got their attention and, as one, they leaned toward him, mouths opened in shock.
“Here’s the problem. There aren’t enough survivors left for us to take food from, or to eat, for that matter, which eliminates both options. That leaves one option. And if there’s just one option, then it’s no longer an option. It’s a fact. So the fact is we need to grow enough food and be able to hunt enough game to feed ourselves in order to survive. That means we have to move to a warmer location. We’re going to Florida. If it’s not significantly warmer there, we’ll be forced to go to Mexico or Central America. So the question is, do you want to survive or not?”
The entire assemblage stared at him, mouths agape. Silent.
He yelled, “The question requires a response!”
Ransom stood up. “Sir, I guess I speak fer all o’ us. We do wanna survive and we’ll do whatever’s has t’ be done. Tell us what ya want us t’ do.”
Horst took a page out of Nina’s book. “Do? What the fuck do you think I want you to do, Ransom? I want you all to get your shit together and stop acting like you’re at fuckin’ Disneyworld. This is real. Your lives depend upon you taking responsibility for yourselves. Can you fucking do that?”
Ransom swallowed hard and nodded. Several more men stood and nodded, and then, like a dam bursting, they stood in unison. In their haste, chairs fell to the floor.
“Yes,” yelled Ransom.
“Yes,” four hundred forty-two men and women said loud enough to make a drill sergeant proud.
Although he was pleased, Horst knew what they said today wouldn’t necessarily carry over to tomorrow, but took advantage of the moment. “Okay, then. Pack up. We’re leaving tomorrow at dawn. Ransom, send a fishing team to catch as many fish as possible for the trip, and butcher and cook the two hobbled horses.”
Five days later, Horst and Nirvana were on US-27 just south of what was left of the Sebring, Florida, International Raceway. Two scouts rode a mile in front of the main column. Riding three abreast, the Nirvana procession stretched for half a mile. Leading the way thanks to redneck ingenuity was a 4x4 pickup fueled by LP gas, pulling a thousand-gallon tank of fuel and loaded with food. Horst rode directly behind the pickup, enjoying the warmth of the early afternoon sunshine on his upturned face. He was deep in thought, remembering row crops were grown south of Lake Okeechobee. Before leaving Savannah, he looked at a Florida state map and decided Clewiston or maybe Pahokee would be a good place to set up for their proximity to fresh water. They could fish the lake, grow crops, and if necessary, the Atlantic Ocean wasn’t that distant. Even the Gulf of Mexico would be in reach. The only downside might be a lack of burnable wood, but since Florida should be reasonably warm, he didn’t see that as a problem.
Randal’s patrol was on the return trip to Fort Hope with Tyler riding point a half mile ahead. The land was flat, the sky was clear, and the sun was bright. Approaching Sylvan Shores, he was startled to see a dust cloud rising into the sky to the north. He stopped, looked through his binoculars, and verified the cloud was not natural.
“No idea what’s causing the dust, Randal, but whatever it is, it’s either huge or a lot of… whatever. Regardless, it’s heading this way and it’s man or animal-made.”
Randal took out his map, studied it a moment, then pointed. “There’s a Publix just up the street. Let’s get on the roof.”
Thirty minutes later, the two Nirvana point men rode past the dilapidated Publix Supermarket.
“Scouts,” said Tyler.
Five minutes later, the truck and lead riders of the Nirvana column came into view.
Bill said, “Motherfucker. I should have killed that son-of-a-bitch when I had the chance.”
Randal had his glasses on Nagel too. “You’ll probably have an opportunity somewhere down the line, Billy boy, but for now, he gets a pass. Several hundred against five isn’t my idea of a fair fight.”
“Yeah. Well… we could snipe his ass and get out of Dodge.”
“We could. And it is tempting, but we aren’t taking any chances. Let’s get a count.”
“Do you want me to dog ’em, Randal?”
“No, Ty. We’re not splitting up. They could be heading to Key West for all we know. We can’t spend the time tailing them. When they’re out of sight, we’re goin’ home.”
“And if their
hats are hung in this area after we move here?” asked Bill.
“Then we’ll have the Bradleys and the Humvees. That’s my idea of a fair fight.”
It took most of an hour for the entire Nirvana group to wander past and out of sight.
Bill said, “I hate to admit it, but Nagel’s pretty good at training. These guys look considerably more organized than the Patriots.”
Randal nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. Let’s not make the mistake of underestimating Nagel like we did Nina.”
Randal called Wade with the update and they resumed their trek back to Tennessee.
Six days later, the Florida patrol entered Fort Hope and headed directly to the ops center where Wade, Stuart, and Cole were buried under a mountain of paperwork. Lists of personnel and animals, tech supplies, food, and gear, and drafts of what would be dismantled and transported, covered every inch of their government-issued desks. The checklist seemed endless.
“What does your gut say about Horst, Randal?”
“It doesn’t say anything. Nirvana’s in Florida. Anything else is speculation.”
Bill said, “My gut tells me we’ll end up having to kill his worthless ass. And I’m lookin’ forward to it.”
Wade nodded. “Yeah. Well, in the interim, we have a different problem to deal with. The wheat’s in the ground, but the harvest isn’t going to be worth a damn. Which means we won’t be able to feed everyone through the winter. And we damn sure aren’t going to be able to care for the animals. It’s late June, guys. The high today was fifty-one. And that’s the warmest it’s been since you left. We need to start the move soon.
“Here’s the tale of the tape. Between Fort-T, Fort Hope, and Gateway and Zion we have a total of 3,523 people, 476 horses, and 330 head of livestock to move. We have two Bradleys, three Humvees, and so far, we’ve scrounged up eighty-eight pickups, forty-seven M939 cargo trucks, and three R-11 refuelers with 12,000 gallons of diesel and 4,000 gallons of gas. A lot of people are going to have to walk. But they can take turns. We can make it work.
“The logistics will be staggering. Breaking down Fort Terminus, Fort Hope, and the two villages won’t happen overnight. We need to make the move in stages. One unit will leave as soon as possible, but not later than the first part of August. The second wave will leave as soon as possible thereafter, but not later than October first, and the last one in November. That gives us plenty of time to prepare the first wave. Thoughts.”
Randal said, “Wow. I know we have no option, but I don’t like it.”
“None of us do.”
“I assume we’re going to explain to everyone right away why we’re moving?”
“Yeah. They’ll need as much time to prepare as we can give them.”
Randal nodded and said, “The sooner the better. We’ll need to get busy on the first wave rosters.”
“Stuart, send riders to Gateway and Zion right away, get the elders here for a three o’clock meeting tomorrow. They can go back and inform their own people. When the meeting’s over, we’ll head back to Fort-T and pass the word. Bill, anything?”
Bill shook his head. As an afterthought, he added, “This is going to be one gigantic pain in the ass.”
They all snorted and smirked.
After everyone cleared out, Wade took Randal aside. “I forgot to ask you. How did your reunion with Noah go?”
“Good. Anna’s a beauty. I like her.”
“Everyone does. She’s a fine young woman.” He paused, cocked his head, and said, “What else, Randal? Something’s eating you.”
Randal clasped his father’s shoulder. “It’s nothing, Dad. What are we doing about the Nirvana splinter group?”
“It’s on the agenda. Let’s get started on the move logistics. When we get back from Fort-T, we’ll consider paying them a visit.”
Nirvana entered Clewiston just after dusk and camped for the night. The next morning, they headed up Highway 98 and arrived in Pahokee just as the sun was dipping below the horizon. Horst halted the column outside of town and he, Ransom, and two scouts rode in.
The town was trashed. Every town was, but Pahokee less than most. Directly on Lake Okeechobee, the location provided ample fresh water and fish, and enough structures remained intact to provide instant shelter. Besides, it just felt right to Horst, and within minutes he knew this was the place. The moon was rising in a cloudless sky, the western horizon was red and yellow, and it was peaceful. Best of all, it was warm.
I’m home.
Chapter Sixteen
Preparations
Two thousand, six hundred, and sixteen people minus the patrols and guards who would be briefed later gathered in Fort Hope’s largest parking lot to hear what Wade had to say. Dark clouds hid the sun. The temperature was forty-eight degrees, bitterly cold for late June in Tennessee. The wind whipped out of the west-northwest at fifteen miles an hour, gusting to twenty-five, making it seem much colder.
Stepping to the raised outdoor podium, Wade looked at the faces below him. Their upturned eyes looked back, filled with apprehension.
“Good afternoon. I know you’re all curious, so I’ll cut right to the chase. As you know, the weather is much colder than normal for this time of year. Our best guess is that it will continue to get progressively colder and we’ll be hit with additional snow to the point we may become snowbound. The wheat has been planted. Unfortunately, the harvest will not be a good one. In short, we’re going to run out of food. Not immediately, but a year from now we’re going to be in real trouble. We won’t be able to feed the animals, much less ourselves.
“The decision has been made to move to a warmer climate before we’re stuck here. A patrol just returned from Florida. It’s much warmer there. Highs are in the low eighties and lows are in the sixties. That doesn’t mean it won’t get colder there in the future, but we’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.
“We’ve located a spot south of Lake Okeechobee where we can grow crops, and we’ll have the lake and both the Atlantic Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico to fish. We’ll also have grazing land for the animals. I know it sounds harsh because we all love it here, but the reality is that we can’t survive in this location for more than a couple of years. Obviously we won’t have nuclear power when we relocate, but we can and will set up wind and solar power systems after we’re settled.”
They stared.
“Any questions so far?”
Their expressions seemed to be a mix of disbelief and bewilderment.
“We’re going to move in three phases. Phase one will consist of a homestead expedition. That will commence as soon as possible but not later than the first of August. The next two phases will leave as soon as possible thereafter. We expect to have the entire populace moved no later than the middle of November. When the last wave leaves, the reactor will be shut down and Fort hope will be secured. We’re going to dismantle as much of Olympia as possible and take it with us.
“I know this is unexpected, but everyone needs to begin personal preparations immediately. I realize that our possessions are meager, but please give serious thought to what you’re going to pack. Those who would like to be in the initial move, sign up with Tyler not later than tomorrow afternoon. We’ll have a full roster of who’s going and exactly what needs to be done as soon as possible.
“I realize this will be difficult. Unfortunately, it’s our only chance at long-term survival. Some of you may want to stay here and take your chances. That’s up to you. I can’t make you go. However, for the safety of your families, I urge you to commit. Feel free to comment.”
They looked at each other, looked at the ground, and kicked the blacktop. Some stared at Wade open-mouthed. Several looked terrified, others just looked dazed.
Stuart took the mic from Wade. “I realize this is a shock, but there’s no alternative. You’re
all survivors. You’ve been through the apocalypse, complete with nuclear war and deadly virus, and The Light wars. You’re tough. You’re smart. You have the will to survive, therefore you will. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t remind all of you that Wade Coltrane is responsible for each of us having the will to make this decision. His wise choices have kept us as safe as possible. Do you think he wants to leave Fort Hope? Leave Fort Terminus? Do you believe he hasn’t wrestled with this decision? You know Wade. So do I. I trust him implicitly. I hope you do too.”
The crowd murmured agreement and, within minutes, became animated. One of them yelled out, “We’re with you, Wade. Tell us what you need us to do.” A single, loud cheer sparked clapping and chanting from the entire assembly. “Wade, Wade, Wade.”
Stuart motioned Wade to take the mic.
He did, and shook his head slowly from side to side. With a sheepish grin, he said, “Thanks. This is rather embarrassing, actually. I do appreciate your faith in my decisions. I promise you, I did not make this one lightly. It’s imperative we leave our children with a better chance at survival than the legacy we’d leave them if we stayed in Tennessee. And the best chance for that legacy to flourish is in Florida.”
He handed the mic back to Stuart and stepped back. Slowly, like a train leaving the station, they began to stomp feet. The rhythm of their approval echoed over the confines of Fort Hope and set up residence inside Wade’s head.
Wade’s face was red. “Jesus, Stuart.”
“Don’t be so damned humble, Wade. Cinch up your armor. They admire you. More importantly they trust you. Get used to it.”
The representatives of Gateway and Zion, John Waslewski and Tim O’Hara, stayed behind after the crowd disbanded. Wade told them, “You’ll have to give this info to your people by tomorrow. We’ll need a full roster breakdown. A detailed list of men, women, children, those who are old or infirm, livestock, and whatever else you plan on moving. Get it to us as soon as possible.”