United States Of Apocalypse

by Mark Tufo

  “There are no mole men.” Tynes rolled his eyes as he spoke.

  “You don’t know that. What about alligators?”

  “Mike, focus.”

  “The Pembroke I know wouldn’t do that. If we hold up our end of the agreement, he will hold up his.”

  “We’ll have to go with that then. We’re here,” Tynes said in a loud voice.

  “Here? It looks the same as every other place.” Juicy was one of the people that was not enjoying the closed-in, cramping feel of the darkness.

  “Nevertheless…” Tynes strode over to a wall that did indeed look like any other part of the tunnel. “Right here.” He smacked the flat of his palm against the brick.

  Two men with sledgehammers came up. The first several hits sounded very solid as if the wall were many feet thick. If Tynes was wrong and there was no entrance, this would indeed be their final resting place. Mike didn’t think the mole men cared whether their food was warm or cold. He subtly backed up a few paces, it was then he noticed that he was hemmed in, nothing overt like a dense ring of interlocked arms, but it was clear to him he was being watched and that leaving the group was not an option.

  “Now might be the only chance we have,” Tynes said softly next to him.

  “You noticed too?”

  The solid hammer strikes began to take on a softer, hollower tone. The man that broke through first lost his grip, his sledge clattering onto the ground on the other side of the hole.

  “Idiot,” Juicy berated him. “That doesn’t mean you should stop swinging,” he told the other man. Three hits later, enough bricks had fallen to the ground that Juicy could fit his head through. “It’s just another tunnel.” He turned to Tynes.

  “I didn’t say it opened up to the National Guard warehouse; I said it led to it.”

  “You better hope you’re right.”

  “And if I’m not?”

  Juicy laughed cruelly. “Well, let’s just say I get to fulfill a long-running dream of mine.” He turned to Mike to deliver those words.

  Mike gulped hard. “Well, I guess that answers that question.”

  Five minutes later, the hole was wide enough for the men to fit through. The original sledge swinger grabbed his hammer as he went through.

  “What are you planning on doing with that?” Juicy asked him.

  “It seems a waste to leave it here.”

  “No, what really seems a waste is that we brought you.” This got a few laughs from the men. “We’re about to get in a gunfight and you’re going to bring a hammer?”

  The man sheepishly put it down.

  “Juicy, you need to keep your men quiet. We’re coming up to the access point.”

  The volume dropped considerably once the word was passed. To Mike, though, it sounded like everything had been amplified. He knew enough to realize it was because his senses were now heightened, but that did little to lessen his anxiety that they’d be discovered and shot like fish in a barrel—or men in a narrow, darkened tunnel.

  Tynes counted off his steps. When he got to twenty-two, he looked up, off to the right, and nearly fifteen feet up was a supply cover. “Anyone bring a ladder?”

  “You didn’t say nothing about no ladder, Cop,” Juicy said, moving close.

  Mike didn’t like that the man was so emboldened that he challenged Tynes. That could only mean that every man there had specific orders to keep Juicy safe and that Tynes and Mike were to be watched and not trusted.

  “We’ve got enough people to make a pyramid,” Mike blurted out.

  “What? Like cheerleaders?” Juicy asked.

  “Sure, why not? Although, I find it a little disturbing that you knew what I meant. Once someone gets up there, they can get a rope or a ladder or something.”

  “What are you, stupid?” Juicy asked. “Fucking puta.”

  “Listen, maybe we are stupid, but I know if we don’t get up there, me and that rolling hill over there are pretty much mole men food.” Mike said.

  “Mole men?” Juicy queried.

  “Long story. Sure, we die down here, and that would suck. But what about you, Juicy?”

  “What about me?”

  “Are you going to go back and tell Pembroke you failed, and not only that, you didn’t even try? You just gave up? How well do you think that will go over? And before you get any funny ideas, I just want to throw a wrench in the works in case you’re thinking about killing us and grabbing a ladder yourself. My safety is off, and my finger has the trigger about halfway back.” Mike’s expression was chilling, causing Juicy to look away to regain his composure.

  “You going to kill us all, hero?” Juicy sneered.

  “I might not kill any of you, but I guarantee if I blow off a couple of rounds, someone up there is going to hear it. And then they’ll know about this little entry point, and from now on and going forward, you can bet it will be guarded and protected heavily.”

  Juicy stepped closer, flashing a blade.

  “One fucking inch, one fucking inch closer, Juicy, and I continue pulling this trigger until I no longer can.”

  Juicy’s lips pulled back in a sneer. “Someday, me and you are going to finish this. All right, we’ll do this your way…for now.”

  Mike got ten of the biggest men he could to create the base of his pyramid, and within four layers of grunting men, he had the height he thought would be necessary for someone to climb up and move the grate.

  “All set,” he said triumphantly.

  “Get your ass up there then,” Juicy told him.

  “Me? You want me to go up there?”

  “Yeah, and before you think of doing anything stupid, like alerting the Guard, just remember your friend will be down here with us.”

  “I don’t really like him that much, he’s into cats, health food, and fancy pillows.”

  “Go,” Juicy ordered.

  “That doesn’t look very stable.”

  “Get your ass up there.”

  “I suppose it won’t matter if I tell you I’m afraid of heights.”

  Juicy motioned to the pile.

  “Avenge me, Tynes, and keep your damned finger on the trigger,” Mike said as he put his rifle across his back, the sling bisecting his body at an angle. He pulled it tight so it wouldn’t move around. The men above reached down and helped him up as he stepped on various body parts, apologizing profusely as he did so. When he got to the top, he gingerly stood up, swaying slightly with the pile. Two men had reached out and were holding his calves, trying to keep him from toppling over. Mike raised his arms and pushed against the grate. At first, nothing happened except the accumulated moan of those below him as he forced more pressure on them. Then, when he thought there was no way he would be able to move the thing, there was a loud creak and the screech of rusted metal grinding against the lip. Mike gave one final heave, the resulting pop sounded like a firecracker. Seventy-four men held their breath, waiting to see if they would be discovered. Mike cautiously pushed the grate all the way up.

  “All right guys, I’m going through. Let go of my legs.” He did not like the feeling in the least as he began to wobble. He timed his jump to make sure his hands would go through the hole; even so, he caught his left pinkie finger on the edge and stifled a string of swears. He got his elbows up onto the warehouse floor and muscled himself up and through. The warehouse wasn’t much brighter than the tunnels, but he decided to err on the side of caution as he reached up and turned his helmet light off.

  “I’m in,” he whispered, sticking his head back down. The pyramid below was slowly beginning to unravel.

  “Get a fucking ladder, asshole,” Juicy said, a little louder than Mike appreciated.

  “Holy shit,” Mike said when he stood and finally looked around.

  “What’s ‘holy shit’?” Juicy asked.

  “This place is full of food.” Mike put the grate back in place just in the off chance someone came by and noticed a hole in the floor. “Where the hell am I going to find a ladder?
And even if I do, there’s no way it’s going to fit through that opening. Gonna have to find a rope.”

  Mike moved very cautiously at first, expecting guards to flood out from in between the rows of shelving at any moment. Once he realized he was alone, he moved quicker, heading for the walls, figuring if there were any tools to be found, they would be there. He knew there was an imaginary timer running, that, when it reached zero, Tynes’ life would be forfeit. He wished he knew how many minutes he had. The far wall yielded nothing of any use. He saw large doors that he figured led outside. He needed to find a supply or tool shed. He was not going to find what he needed here, but the chances of being caught out there were greatly increased. Just as he was getting ready to head out, he saw shelves of uniforms.

  “Never pictured myself in cammies. Sure as shit hope I have these on the right way,” Mike said softly as he laced his boots. “Now what?” Mike was acutely aware of the timer ticking down in the tunnels. He steeled himself, grasped the handle to the warehouse door, and went outside, plunging himself into the hazy sunlight. He wasn’t exactly sure what to expect, but certainly not what he saw. He figured personnel would be shuffling about doing all sorts of various military-type things while a drill sergeant yelled at them. Instead, the vast majority of those he did see were just lounging. A grill was cooking something to his far left, the sweet smell of slowly charring flesh making him drool. He wiped his chin and nearly went over to see if he could grab a hamburger. Cheering shouts from an intense game of volleyball being played in the massive courtyard startled and confused him.

  “I am slightly overdressed,” he said as he looked at everyone. He didn’t know much about military life, but he was sure that the decorum had lapsed severely. Most had no hats on, some had cut their pants into shorts, some only had on their olive drab t-shirts and various pants, almost no one had on a camo top. He was afraid that by trying to blend in he was consequently sticking out like a sore thumb.

  “A little help!” a soldier shouted when a ball rolled toward Mike’s feet. Mike bent and picked up the ball. He gasped when he saw a soldier running toward him. It wasn’t so much the man coming for the ball as it was the small family sitting off to the side watching the match.

  Mike’s attention came back when the man clapped. “Come on man, give it up.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Mike said, lightly tossing the ball back. Mike wondered what Tynes would do if he saw that this place was full of women and children. “Hey, where’s the commander of this place?”

  “Fucking noob,” the man said, catching the ball. “Are you from the Buffalo 26th?”

  “Sure.” Mike thought he saw questions race across the man’s visage, but he was being pressured to return to the game. “Should be in his office over there.” The man pointed and bounded off.

  What’s the plan, Mike? Well, I don’t really have one but I have fifty yards to come up with one. Kids were screeching as they played tag or shot fake guns at each other. A small class of middle-school-aged children were sitting under a tree with a female soldier who was reading them a book. Whatever it was, they seemed rapt. He caught one of the questions from a student as he passed by.

  “So, the Progerians are the ruling class?” the young boy asked.

  “That’s right Tommy,” the woman beamed.

  “God, she’s beautiful.” Mike was staring; her stunning blue-green eyes were framed in a shock of red hair that illuminated the freckles lining her nose.

  “You should take a picture, it would last longer!” one of the girls giggled, pointing to Mike. The entire class turned to look at Mike, whose face was burgeoning into a bright red.

  “Ma’am,” he said, tilting his hat and moving away quickly.

  Mike expected a bevy of guards and security measures when all he needed to do was knock on the door marked “commander.” He thought for sure no one would be inside.

  “Enter!” came an authoritative voice. Mike stepped in to see a fit man in his early fifties sitting behind a desk, his salt and pepper hair closely cropped to his head, his uniform immaculately pressed. “A corporal in my beloved Guard should know enough to not be donning his cover indoors.”

  Mike looked at him strangely. “Your hat son, take your damned hat off.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry sir.”

  “Well, I’m a busy man. Just because I have an open door policy doesn’t mean I really like to have it open.”

  Mike turned and closed the door.

  “That’s not really what I meant.” His eyes grew wide for a split second as he noticed the gun Mike had out but then they quickly calmed. “Well, make your point.”

  “I’m in a bit of a mess, sir.”

  “We can work this out.”

  “I hope so, but I’m not seeing the way.”

  “You obviously came here with an agenda. Why don’t you tell me, and we’ll see what we can do.”

  “This conversation needs to start off with me and my friend not getting shot.”

  “What would necessitate your getting shot?”

  Mike suddenly came clean to the commander. How they were on a quest for food and got mixed up with Pembroke and now there was a force of men right this very minute under the supply warehouse along with a small army heading this way to take the compound by force. Colonel Benford began to rise.

  “I need some assurances, Colonel, before I can let you go.”

  “Let me go? There is an imminent invasion, soldier. I need to get my men in place. What are you prepared to do if I don’t give you what you want?”

  Mike eased the trigger back. “I’m not dying in front of a firing squad.”

  “You kill me, you kill all those people out there. You’ve obviously got a conscience or you wouldn’t have sought me out.”

  “Sir, Colonel, Officer Tynes and I were just trying to get some food for our neighborhood; we’re on the brink of starving. We have no desire to be part of, or witness to, any battles or murders. We got pulled into something much bigger than we bargained for. I’m asking you for a way out.”

  “Too late, son. I know this Pembroke fellow. He’s not going to back down. We had word he was looking to attack. Just didn’t figure it would be so soon or that he would come upon an alternate means to gain entry. So, you say they’re waiting on you for a ladder or a rope?”

  “That’s right, sir.”

  “What’s changed your mind about what you’re doing here?”

  “Kids, and, err, teachers, sir. I didn’t think there’d be any, figured it would be a bunch of guys just running around acting all military-like. This doesn’t look like the Guard we’ve been hearing all the stories about.”

  “We tried to help, son.”

  “Mike, my name is Mike.”

  “Mike, when the National Emergency and the curfew were put into place, that was exactly our intent: to restore order and preserve our way—everyone’s way—of life as best we could. We weren’t out there more than two days when our convoys started getting attacked. Lost more men in two weeks on the streets of New York than I did in two years in Afghanistan. It was a civil war, plain and simple, and we fought back. Breaking curfew or looting...those are execution worthy offenses under martial law; those were our orders. We did our best to not fire indiscriminately, but more and more we found that to hesitate meant risking our own lives needlessly. I tried to get federal assistance. There were vague promises, and every once in a while we’d get a few new guardsmen, but nothing like we’d hoped. We house twenty-five hundred men here and triple that in family members. We just do not have the manpower to police and patrol a city of over fourteen million. Between the gangs and marauders, we’re out-manned at least ten to one. And with each passing day, people become more desperate. If we tried to deliver this food right now, we’d come under intense fire. The supplies would be snatched by men like Pembroke and the starving population of citizenry would never see a drop of it. Some think we’re hiding out, but the truth is we’re trapped. So now the question is, what are you go
ing to do?”

  “Tynes and me walk away when this is done.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  Mike’s head sagged. “Tynes walks away then. I’m the one that put him in contact with Pembroke.”

  “You would sacrifice yourself for your friend?”

  “I would. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have made it this long.”

  The colonel looked long and hard at Mike. “Done. Let’s stop this before it gets out of hand.”

  Mike put the gun down. The colonel opened the door; Mike walked out.

  “Sergeant Yonts, get two platoons assembled as quickly and quietly as possible.”

  The woman that had been reading to her class abruptly stopped, stood, and saluted. “Yes, sir.”

  “This is not a drill, I want ninety troops locked and loaded and ready for action. Meet me at warehouse three.”

  The sergeant looked at Mike for a second and then went off to follow the colonel’s orders.

  “You sure about this?” the colonel asked. He led Mike to a supply shed and handed him a long rope.

  “None of it, Colonel, but my life is already forfeit. Double crossing Pembroke is not conducive to longevity. Plus, now he thinks he’s King of New York. I can’t see that working out well.”

  “I thought the talk of his inflated ego was just that.”

  “Not so much. Why the rope?” Mike asked, finally realizing he had possession of it.

  “If we don’t let them up, your friend is as good as dead. Correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “Then we let them up.”

  “Fuck, I wish I’d stayed in Boston.”

  “Boston was destroyed.”

  “Exactly.” Mike was more afraid than he could ever remember being, but not for himself. It was for Tynes, the families here, and maybe a little extra for the redheaded sergeant who seemed to have some strange pull on his heart.

  Within three minutes, Sergeant Yonts was running toward the warehouse, ninety men and women in tow. All were fully dressed in battle gear with a full complement of weaponry. The volleyball game halted mid-strike. The soldiers turned “all business,” realizing something was going down. At a single command the spouses and kids dropped what they were doing and headed inside as they’d been taught.