5 Years After (Book 2.5): Smoke & Mirrors

by Correll, Richard

  “You as well, ma’am,” He saluted.

  *

  Sometimes, electricity speaks. Its’ whispers walk up and down the telephone wires. It betrays secrets amid the hubris of satellites, cell phone towers and still classified methods of communication. It had a language all its’ own, but telephone lineman swore by the sound of the special dialect.

  “Yeah,” The voice on the other end of the phone answered in two rings. The call was expected, so was the attitude.

  “Is that anyway to answer the phone when a friend calls?” Shadowman’s voice stayed cool and classy, like a silk neck scarf about to be used for strangulation.

  “Fuck you, friend,” was the reply. Shadowman secretly hated the man on the other end of the phone. He had that special kind of privilege that came from having his father be a working class hero. He could flaunt ignorance as a social attraction. He speaks his mind, his followers would say.

  Fine, let him play his game, the Shadowman concluded. We will play him in ours.

  “I’m out here in the middle of fucking nowhere living supply truck to supply truck.” The man complained. Shadowman could almost see the square head and buzz cut hair with the smart ass mouth working overtime.

  “Why don’t you raid the local indigenous bands like we discussed?” Shadowman countered. His voice stayed in the realm of calm, slick negotiation and manipulation.

  “We do, we’ve killed more than a few of them.” There was a hint of weakness in the man’s voice for a second. “They don’t have any guns.”

  “So, what is your issue?” Shadowman explored this new emotion. “You can get what you need from them.”

  “They……..they’re fast. They’ve killed a few of my people, too.” The man on the phone had to admit. “We only go after them when we have to.”

  “They don’t have guns.” Shadowman had a chance to score debate points and he took it. “How can they be a problem?”

  “They just fucking are, okay?” The man on the phone lost his temper, again.

  “How?” Shadowman felt for a moment that this could all be pointless. Still, it was good to hear this fool get cornered in his own failures.

  “They know the land,” The man’s temper was up now. He was shouting. “When we’re coming back from raiding them…..they just……..come out of fucking nowhere.” There was a pause, he was collecting his thoughts. Shadowman despised his childish, quick temper. The man on the phone concluded by saying: “Look, you just don’t understand.”

  “Did you receive our recent delivery of ammunition and gasoline?” Shadowman tried to hide his impatience.

  “Yeah, we got that.” The man’s voice was calming now. Shadowman knew there would be no expression of thanks.

  “Good,” Shadowman tried hard to go for civility in his tone. “Five tractor trailers are coming your way, same deal as always.”

  “Yeah, fifty – fifty on the contents,” The man was back to his regular tone.

  “By the way, those tractor trailers contain a little gift for you and your brother.” Shadowman loved to conclude his discussions with a little carrot and stick motivation. “It’s just our way of thanking you for your continued loyalty and service.”

  “What kind of gift?”

  “Captain Maggie Hunter,” The Shadowman rolled the name off of his tongue like spring wine.

  Shadowman heard the silence on the other end of the phone. He also heard the sickle sweet syrup of vengeance pour through the man’s veins. Revenge was more than an emotion. It was an addiction, especially if you let it sit inside someone for awhile. The whole thing had a beautiful synchronicity to it, an ally was satisfied and a potential problem could be snuffed out. The Shadowman felt the mathematical sophistication of it all. He could almost see the man on the other end of the phone and the anticipation of retribution in his eyes.

  Perfect………

  *

  “Good day, ma’am.” He saluted perfectly as always.

  “Gurpreet, you magnificent bastard,” Maggie smiled so wide it hurt. She jumped down the last two steps like a child of ten. Her outburst created curiosity from her platoon. Faces inside the bus pressed against the glass. “My god it is good to see you.”

  “You as well, ma’am,” Gupta’s face almost seemed to split in two as he grinned from ear to ear. “Frank Roe is waiting for us.”

  “Who?”

  “He is the man who made the……” Gurpreet searched for a second for the right words that would maintain secrecy that seemed so important. “…..special arrangements.”

  “Awesome.” Maggie picked up on his cue quickly and felt the devil enter her eyes. “Are they done?”

  “Oh, yes they are,” Gurpreet turned to walk with her. The feeling of conspiracy was contagious. Maggie’s pace began to quicken.

  “Let’s do this.” It was weird to feel excited about it, but Maggie let the emotion flow. Damn, it was so good to see Gurpreet again. They chatted about the big things and the little things, the way life was carrying them down through the stream of years. No matter how long they spoke, it still felt like they had just seen each other yesterday. It felt normal in a world that had spun off its’ axis.

  “I’m Frank Roe, welcome to Timmins.” He had waited patiently for them to stop talking as they approached his pet project. Maggie shook his hand and looked over his shoulder.

  “Is it ready?”

  “You bet it is,” Maggie swore the guy just winked at her. Everyone loves to take a trip away from the rules. Frank Roe was no exception.

  “Niiiiice,” Maggie spoke through a pirate smile. Yes, it was all there. The welding had been perfect.

  “The lead vehicle also has the modifications you wanted.” Frank nodded and was matching her mood. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be driving that one.”

  “You are volunteering.” Maggie held up a hand for a second. “I don’t want to draft you or anything.”

  “No problem,” Roe nodded. “Besides, I’ve done this route a few times a couple years ago. I know the way.”

  “Perfect……”

  *

  For Shadowman, London, Ontario was a good place to be right now. It was a friendly city with more than a few people who saw things his way. There were still places that were not safe. The downtown core around Dundas and King with its’ older buildings and underground mall was still a red zone. The wide road of York was perfect for snipers who kept the Via Rail line open. Wellington Street, stretching north and south was the east side of this mini out post. The rest of London to the north around Oxford and south of the Thames River was much safer.

  It was good to be away from Davidson, Shadowman felt a hot sting of anger at the very idea he would turn his back on him and expect to get away with it. He paused and collected his thoughts at his writing desk when his Blackberry chirped, incoming message. For now, Davidson could call him out. If that happened, it would be good to be around people who would hesitate just long enough before following orders to let him head west. His Blackberry screen lit up as he thumbed the mouse ball and checked his messages.

  ETA AND LOCATION OF TRANSPORTS CONFIRMED. THAT LITTLE BITCH MAGGIE H IS AS GOOD AS DEAD AND THAT’S A PROMISE.

  HAVE A NICE DAY……..

  The drama was unnecessary, Shadowman found it a bit of a comfort, just the same. It was always nice to know the people who were doing your dirty work had a vested interest and perhaps even enjoyment in their job. He deleted the message and pocketed the Blackberry.

  *

  As they passed through Manitoba it began to occur to Maggie the size of the country she now called home. It seemed to swallow you whole. You became lost in the endless highway miles, the countless forests that stretched on forever. The trees that shed their leaves and let them dance on the wind were gone now. White and blue spruce formed entire forests that continued on to the horizon. Here and there gargantuan pine trees were visible in their midst. They waded through the forests like giant monsters attacking cities in old movies. Massiv
e rocks the size of buildings had been blown in half and chiseled away bit by bit to allow the slender thread of asphalt through.

  Slender thread, yes it felt that way now…….

  They were here and there. Even so far away from cities and towns they wandered among the odd rust stained wrecks. There were bodies as well. Some picked clean of any semblance of flesh. Others lay crushed and motionless in the center of the road.

  Maggie watched a long haired man with a beard that had gone pure white shamble past the body of a woman who had revived and then had her skull flattened into a red stain by the wheels of a large vehicle. They don’t eat their own, once they are revived they are not carrion anymore. For Maggie, it was an odd thought that helped pass the time.

  Frank seemed to peer far ahead for a second on the highway. He reached over for his CB and pulled the microphone to his mouth. Maggie followed his gaze and felt her eyes intensify. There must have been thousands. They were wandering like a herd up the highway with slow precision. One step in front of the other, the rhythmic dance went on for miles. Gurpreet in the back seat reached down and found his C7A2 and kept it close.

  “Okay everyone, listen up.” Frank’s voice was even. “Sound off. I’ll start, one, yo.”

  “Two, yo.”

  “Three, yo.”

  “Four, yo.”

  “Five, yo.”

  “In a couple of seconds we’re going to slow to about 35 clicks.” Frank kept his left arm at twelve o’clock on the wheel while his right held the microphone close. “We are passing through a large pack. Keep the hatches battened down and maintain speed and distance with the vehicle in front of you.”

  “This is where we earn our money everyone…….”

  “Okay, what’s the plan?” Maggie had watched until now.

  “We are probably going to be running over a few of them, ma’am.” Frank explained without taking his eyes off the road. His shoulders betrayed a few new muscles as tension was building up inside of him. “We don’t want them to hit us too hard or they could cause damage.”

  “Okay……”

  “Too slow and they start grabbing on and climbing up our rigs.” Frank seemed to tense for a moment and then he took a deep breath. “Here we go, 35 clicks should do it.”

  “This is Captain Hunter,” Maggie had her walkie talkie in her hand. She had posted people on the roofs of the modified tractor trailers. “Sentries, I need you to check in.”

  “This is Private Purdee on one.” God, she sounded like a teenager, she’d seen them, her voice was a pitch higher.

  “Sergeant Gyles on five.”

  “People, we are approaching a large pack of hostiles.” Maggie kept her voice calm as her eyes watched the shadows on the road develop clarity as they approached. “You are not to open fire. Repeat, you are not to open fire.”

  “Ma’am?” It was Purdee.

  “As I said earlier, private,” Maggie recalled their meeting on the bus before heading out in the five tractor trailers across the country. “We are out here to pick a fight, this is not that fight.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Gyles spoke for both of them.

  “I want you to use the hatch that Mr. Roe cut on the roof of the tractor trailer and go inside.” Roe made no reaction. His eyes were intense, unblinking on the road ahead. Maggie slowed her voice down. It was almost a mantra. These were newbies, after all. She didn’t want any accidents. “Lock the hatch behind you, let’s take our time and be safe, people.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Purdee’s voice was accompanied by the usual scrapes and bumps of a body in motion.

  “Take it nice and slow, we don’t need anyone going overboard.” Maggie recalled the one inch thick steel plates that had been welded to sections of the roof for cover. They could be handrails now. A rig this size was anything but a smooth ride on top of a tractor trailer. “Let me know when you are inside, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am,”

  “Yes ma’am.” There was a thirty second pause and Gyles’ voice returned. “This is Gyles, I’m inside.”

  “This is private Purdee, ma’am.” There was a hint of an echo to her voice. “I am inside and locked up, like you said.”

  “Good, hang on.” Maggie took a breath, the first fewer figures were just 20 yards away. “This might get a little bumpy.”

  Maggie could make out just the first few rows of the slowly marching apparitions. After a hundred yards they seemed to mold together like a dark, spreading ink stain. Is this what they had been doing? Maggie felt her eyes open wider as the forms became countless. Of course, it’s what they do. It’s what they always do. They form, clump and band together. It was instinct.

  There were some that howled in rage at the very sight of the caravan and charged the first machine they saw. Maggie heard a dull thump as waving hands disappeared beneath the truck as it proceeded forward. The Saskatchewan border was an hour ahead and the plain was endless, to her right Maggie watched the field begin to slowly fill up with figures. The feet trudged through the hard packed earth. It had been years since a plow had broken any new furrows in the fertile land.

  A woman in dirty blue jeans and a disheveled blouse ignored the truck as it passed by her. Her right hand clasped the wrist of a smaller child of perhaps ten in pajamas, leading her on. They both had dirty blond hair that occasionally waved in the wind like the strands of a tattered flag. The young one turned and regarded the new part of her landscape and for a second showed her teeth in challenge. Her eyes flashed briefly before she returned her attention to her mother. Did they just move a bit closer to one another? Maggie felt a slight, eerie chill at the nape of her neck. Did they just do that? What was going on behind those little girl eyes? The question in Maggie’s mind stirred an emotion she couldn’t quite categorize. She watched the mother’s head turn ever so slightly toward her daughter, they continued on as they passed from Maggie’s sight.

  It was so fucking weird to see them do that……..

  Did I just see them act like us? Maggie took a second to try and unpack her thoughts, they are us. She reminded herself.

  Why do they do that? Is it instinct, true emotions they still seem to have? Maybe these are just forgotten echoes that come to them like dreams to the sleeper. Yes, maybe that was it. Mother and daughter, dreaming together until the end of time, it all seemed like dark, Lovecraft poetry.

  Maggie turned toward the road to cleanse her thoughts and made eye contact with a man in a policemen’s uniform. His shirt had been torn asunder, black craters on his chest betrayed where hands had probed underneath his skin for internal organs. His face was the kind you trusted in life. His jaw was firm, anchoring a full face that seemed at home with a smile. The officer was watching the truck moving toward him. While others attacked the grill of the slow moving metal monster he suddenly paused and stood still.

  He’s watching something…..Maggie couldn’t look away. He’s watching the wheels. He’s watching the wheels come at him. A second before the rolling rubber mass made contact Maggie swore she saw him close his eyes and await the blow. The nape of her neck grew cold again.

  Jesus, fucking Jesus………..

  “I……I have one on my runner.” A voice spoke from the CB, there was a thickening strand of panic in the tone. “This is three. I have one on my running board.”

  “George, we have been through this before.” Roe’s voice tried to sound calm. “He can’t get at you, you’re all locked up inside, remember?”

  “You know, if someone breaks down right now we can’t stop.” Maggie waited for him to mute his mic before speaking.

  “Yes, I know.” Roe’s voice was very subdued, introspective. “We can only radio ahead and let someone know where the break down happened.”

  Like that would do them any good, There would be another week before anything was on this road. She guessed this pack could probably turn an eighteen wheeler over if they got the collective sense to try. Maggie decided to put her nervous energy to good use. She flipped the
walkie talkie to the channel for the rear truck.

  “This is your Captain speaking,” Maggie had not meant for it to be funny, but maybe it was for the best. The calmer she sounded to them the better. “We’re going to be out of this in a few minutes, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am, we’re just fine back here.” Gyles voice was all duty. She decided not to ask to speak to everyone individually. She thought of her other sentry and clicked the mic on again. “Purdee, how ya doin’?”

  “I’m just fine, ma’am.” There was a tremor for a second in her reply. “Just fine…….”

  “I’m sorry you’re all alone.” Maggie reached out to her with an apology. “I should’ve had Gurpreet up there with you.”

  “I’m…..I’m good, ma’am.”

  “You want me to stay on the line for a while?” Maggie thought how it must feel for her, listening to the sounds in the dark, the imagination can create terrible things when you’re alone.

  “No……no, I’m good.” Purdee tried to steady her voice.

  “Stay brave, private,” Maggie searched for something to re-assure her and found it. “You know, I’m really just twenty feet away, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am, thank you, ma’am.”

  “I have another!” It was three again. Roe’s fingers carefully snaked out to the CB and found the radio as a boy with long black hair made contact with the bumper of the lead truck. The end of another’s existence was like a soft bump, like a bird or small piece of debris had tapped against them. Just another soul taking flight, another bump and then another. For a second Maggie imagined waves lapping on the shore. Yes, there were that many. Maggie tried not to look at the faces. She scanned farther ahead in hope that there might be a thinning in the road.

  “George, they can’t get at you.” Roe’s voice was a touch scolding. “They can’t get at you.”

  “I know, I know.” George replied in agitation. “It’s just………fucking things, I fucking hate them.”

  “I hear you.” Roe replied absently as a small woman, bent over by age reached out to grab a hand hold of truck number one. The momentum of the machine spun her around. She was like a pin wheel for a second before rolling to a stop underneath the trailer wheels, another soft bump made Purdee look up from the darkness all around her.