Broken Lines Omnibus: A Tale of Survival in a Powerless World

by James Hunt

  Anne had her doubts too though, after hearing the stories of what went on in Pittsburgh, and seeing firsthand what happened here. A part of her thought it was too good to be true, but there was another part that desperately wanted to believe. Both were dangerous.

  Freddy and Sean were playing on the floor when she entered Freddy’s room. She knocked on the door and the two boys looked up, realizing she was watching them.

  “You boys hungry?” Anne asked.

  “Yes!” both of them answered at the same time.

  “Sean, your mom is getting breakfast started. Why don’t you two go and help her?”

  Freddy and Sean tore out of the room, past her and down the hallway. Anne stayed in the doorway of Freddy’s room, listening to the sounds coming from the kitchen.

  It’d been a long week, and it was starting to wear her down. She’d exhausted a lot of energy nursing Mike and Kalen back to health, and it wasn’t just the physical demands but the emotional stressors too.

  Her husband and daughter had been beaten bloody, within an inch of their lives; it wasn’t an easy thing to see. She made sure Freddy didn’t have to be witness to it. She kept him out of their rooms for the first few days, giving them time to rest.

  Anne wasn’t worried about Mike, but she was concerned about Kalen. Her daughter had been through a lot, and it changed her. The girl she’d known was gone. The person that worried about boys and school and getting her own car had vanished, hardened by the harsh realities of the world around her.

  “Mrs. Grant?”

  “Mary, you scared me,” Anne said, laughing a bit. “What is it, sweetheart?”

  “I know we’re leaving tomorrow, and everyone’s busy getting ready, but I wanted to take my sisters down to visit our parents’ graves. Give us one last chance to say good-bye.”

  “Of course. Let me finish up here and we’ll head down together.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mary disappeared into Kalen’s room and Anne listened to the boys’ laughter coming from the kitchen. That sound kept her going. Whatever burdens she felt lifted with the voices echoing through the cabin.

  ***

  Erin seemed oblivious to the whole thing. Nancy wouldn’t stop crying, but Mary felt an eerie calm about her.

  The two headstones were close together. Kalen helped Mary carve her parents’ names in with a knife. It looked crude, but Mary refused to let the graves go unmarked.

  “Nance, go and pick some flowers. Take Erin with you,” Mary said.

  Nancy wiped her eyes and nose with her forearm and grabbed Erin’s hand. There was a patch of wild flowers a little deeper into the fields and the two girls trotted off together.

  Mary was left alone with her parents, or at least what was left of them. She couldn’t pick her father’s body out of the other burned victims, so the grave next to her mother’s was empty.

  Her mother had been alone her last days on this earth. She was beaten and raped with the knowledge that her husband was dead and no information as to whether her daughters were still alive.

  Mary thought back to all of the times she bickered with her mom, arguing over petty things like what she wore, or not getting the new phone she wanted. She could remember every hurtful thing she screamed at her.

  Now the one thing she wanted more than anything she would never get. Her father would never tell her he loved her again. Her mother wouldn’t be there to hold her and stroke her hair when she was having a bad day. All of that was buried now.

  “I love you,” Mary said.

  The words left her reflexively. She tried saying the phrase as she used to say it before she would go to bed at night, when her parents would come and tuck her in. But when she said the words now they sounded different. There wouldn’t be another time in her life where she would be in this position again, to say good-bye. There was a finality underlined in the weight of those words.

  Erin came back, struggling to push her way through the tall grass with Nancy guiding her to ensure that she made it through okay. She had a bundle of flowers in her arms and held them up for Mary to see.

  “They’re very pretty, Erin,” Mary said.

  Erin smiled and placed some of them on their father’s grave, while the rest were left on their mother’s.

  Nancy’s eyes were still red, but she wasn’t crying anymore. Mary wrapped her up in her arms and Nancy reciprocated. The two of them watched Erin bounce around the two pieces of stone, running her small, chubby fingers over the names of their parents carved on the rocks.

  ***

  It took a few tries, but Nelson and Kalen finally managed to ride the length of Main Street back and forth twice on the motorcycles. They pulled into the parking lot and shut the engines off.

  “How’d it feel?” Mike asked.

  “I don’t know why I ever thought of asking for a car. You can get me a motorcycle for Christmas this year,” Kalen said.

  “Pretty soon you’ll have to get your first ink,” Fay said.

  “Um, no,” Anne replied.

  “I ate a few bugs, but other than that it was all right,” Nelson added.

  “It’s good protein,” Sam said.

  Mary laughed, and Erin giggled. Even Nancy cracked a smile.

  “Dad,” Kalen said.

  Jung was standing in the courtyard of the motel behind them, next to the fountain, half looking at them and half looking at the ground.

  The whole group tensed up. Almost every person Jung tied up and left for dead was standing in front of him. None of them had seen him since that day, and none of them wanted to. Mike started to walk toward him, but Anne grabbed his arm, stopping him.

  “I won’t kill him,” Mike said.

  Jung didn’t make eye contact with Mike until he was right in front of him, and even then it was minimal.

  “What do you want?” Mike asked.

  Jung fidgeted nervously. His hands kept wandering over his body, unsure of what to do. His eyes stayed aimed at the ground.

  “Mike, I… I…”

  Jung’s voice was trembling. The words came out jumbled and quiet. Jung was swaying back and forth. Mike could smell the booze on him.

  “I’m sorry, Mike,” Jung said.

  “You remember what you told me on the road from the airport to the cabin?” Mike asked.

  “I was only trying to keep my family safe.”

  “And what about my family? What about Nelson’s family? Did you keep them safe? Did you think about that when you pointed a gun at my wife and children?”

  Mike’s forehead was almost touching Jung’s, whose head was still bowed in submission. Mike wanted to break him. He wanted to reach for the pistol at his side and put that man out of his misery for good. It wouldn’t be a loss. If anything the world would have one less nuisance.

  The group behind Mike crept closer, trying to hear what was being said, and who was speaking. Finally they were right behind him. The only one of them that separated from the group was Fay.

  “Whatever you think you’re entitled to, whatever rights you think you have, they don’t exist anymore. Not for you,” Mike said.

  “It doesn’t have to be this way,” Fay said.

  “Yes, it does.”

  Mike was done. He wasn’t going to waste any more time on the subject. He turned to go and the rest of the group followed. One by one they all turned their backs on Jung, just as he did to them, but Kalen stayed behind. When Mike looked back she was visibly shaking. He could see her hands tighten around the rifle.

  “Kalen,” Mike said.

  “You’re not a man,” Kalen said, her eyes locked on Jung. “You think you can just try and hurt our family and then we forgive you? Is that what you pray to your God about? Forgiveness?”

  “Kalen, c’mon,” Mike said.

  “You don’t get forgiveness. You’ll never get it,” Kalen said.

  When Kalen walked away Jung broke down. The dam of tears he held back gave way. Whatever resolve he had left was gone. He col
lapsed in a heaped mess and only Fay was left to help him up.

  Mike didn’t want her to stay. Fay wasn’t just a valuable member of their group, she had become a member of his family. She made her choice though and Mike wasn’t going to be able to change her mind. Each of them had to live with the repercussions of their actions.

  Six Months after the EMP Blast

  Agent Ben Sullivan flipped through the file in his hands. The evidence, the confession, it was all there, wrapped up in a bow.

  “It doesn’t fit,” Ben said.

  His partner, Mitch Hamon, leaned back in his chair, his large hands resting on his equally large stomach. Mitch had just been paired with Ben for the investigation, but the old man wasn’t much help.

  “You’re overthinking it, Sullivan,” Mitch said. “People went nuts when the lights went out, and this guy was at the center of everything. It’s all there.”

  “So this guy organizes an EMP missile launch, a coup against the government, and then decides to blow everything up? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Like I said, people went nuts.”

  “He had enough supplies and manpower to pretty much do whatever he wanted. You really think he’d just give it all up like that?”

  “People. Went. Nuts.”

  Ben brushed Mitch off. Of all the things they heard about from across the country during the blackout, this one took the cake.

  “Agent Sullivan?”

  Ben looked up from the file. One of the office assistants had opened the door to their office.

  “Yes?” Ben asked.

  “I have a man out here asking to speak with you.”

  “Tell him I’m busy.”

  “He says he has information about the Cincinnati case.”

  Ben shot a glance at Mitch.

  “People went nuts, huh?” Ben asked.

  The agency was packed. There were people from all around the country. Allegations and reports of what people did to each other ranged from murder to theft. The dust was still clearing, but the majority of the country was back on its feet.

  Power started to come back on in most major cities two months ago. Once that happened and communication channels opened back up people started to calm down.

  Ben was selected to head the task force to ensure that all claims of serious illegal activity during the time of the blackout were heard.

  It wasn’t a job anyone wanted. It was a slew of hearsay and “he said, she said.” People just kept passing the blame and pointing fingers elsewhere for misdirection.

  Ben hadn’t run across a single solid case until this guy walked in and turned himself in voluntarily. He said he was responsible for everything. The planning of the EMP missile launch, the organized coup in Cincinnati, murder, treason—all were admitted by him in a written statement.

  The guy even had knowledge about the detailed inner workings of how it went on. He gave them names, locations, anything and everything that would tie him to the crime. The only thing that didn’t match up was the guy’s profile before the lights went out.

  Ben requested his information a few days ago and it finally arrived today. The guy had no priors, no criminal history of any kind. The two pieces of the guy’s life were total contradictions.

  The assistant brought Ben and Mitch into a private room, set aside for one-on-ones that required a quiet place to talk, away from the chaos of the main floor.

  Inside was an older man dressed in an old tweed jacket and a bow tie. The assistant left and Ben extended his hand, which the old man took hesitantly.

  “I’m Agent Sullivan. This is my partner, Agent Hamon. You told one of our assistants that you had information on a suspect we’re holding?”

  “Yes, I believe I can help.”

  “Well, what can you tell us?”

  The old man’s fingers fumbled nervously over each other. His eyes roamed the floor, as if there were words written down there that could help him speak. He paced the office for a moment, not saying anything.

  “Listen, pal,” Mitch said. “If you’ve got something that can help us, let’s get on with it. We have other things we need to get done.”

  “I’m sure you think you have an open-and-shut case.”

  “Yeah, the guy confessed to everything,” Mitch said.

  “What do you know?” Ben asked.

  “I know that whatever facts you heard were based on half-truths.”

  “Do you know the man in custody?” Ben asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What do you know that he’s not telling us?”

  “Everything.”

  Ben rubbed his eyes. The long nights and cryptic messages of what was true and what was false were starting to weigh on him.

  “Then why don’t you tell us, Dr. Wyatt, exactly what you know,” Ben said.

  Dr. Wyatt took a seat in the corner of the room, where the lights were low and his face was cast in shadows.

  “I want to see him first,” Dr. Wyatt said.

  ***

  Ben and Mitch went back to their office, leaving Dr. Wyatt alone in the waiting room.

  “The guy’s lying,” Mitch said.

  Ben pulled open a drawer of one of the filing cabinets. He flipped through the files, searching for a document he remembered seeing a while back.

  “Ben, you can’t let that guy see our suspect,” Mitch said.

  “Where’s the file on the utilities hearing?” Ben asked.

  “What?”

  “We had the minutes to a utilities hearing in Congress that happened over a year ago. We received the file from a senator when we first started getting things up and running. I know we have it somewhere.”

  Ben went through every drawer and file, but couldn’t find it. He slammed the last drawer shut and fell back into his chair.

  Mitch walked over to his desk and opened the bottom drawer. He pulled out a stack of papers and dropped it in front of Ben. Ben flipped through the pages, making sure they were from the meeting he was looking for.

  “I still don’t think we should let him see him,” Mitch said.

  Ben ran his finger along the text on the pieces of paper. He started reading aloud.

  “Dr. Wyatt suggested that the United States was susceptible to an open attack on its power and water facilities.”

  “You think the doctor was in on it?” Mitch asked.

  “No photos of our guy are going to be sent out to the public until tomorrow. The only people that know we’re holding him are here in this building. Let’s show the doctor a lineup. See if he can point our guy out. That’ll at least tell us if he has a connection with him.”

  ***

  Dr. Wyatt sat on the other side of the one-way glass waiting for the suspects to walk in. Ben told him to identify the man he believed they had in custody.

  A group of ten individuals walked in, all similar in height, ethnicity, and appearance, each with a number in front of them. Dr. Wyatt took a few moments examining the group before speaking.

  “Number eight,” Dr. Wyatt said.

  Ben shot Mitch a look and then sent everyone except the man Wyatt identified out the door.

  “You sure?” Ben asked.

  “Yes, it took me a minute because of the facial hair, but that’s him.”

  “Okay, then. You know him. Now you’re going to tell us about him.”

  “I was a part of the original planning of the attack. I’m sure you’ve read the articles that were written in regards to my meeting with the Senate committee before the blast happened. I was approached by a man afterwards who was looking for a partner.”

  “This partner was the man that planned the attacks? And was responsible for what happened in Cincinnati?” Ben asked.

  “Yes, he was the man who tried to purge the country of everyone who wasn’t prepared. That’s what he wanted, for people to hurt,” Dr. Wyatt said.

  Mitch threw his arms up in the air.

  “I told you, Sullivan. Put a bow on it. This is done. We’ve got his
partner in custody,” Mitch said.

  “No, I’m afraid it’s not,” Dr. Wyatt said.