by Trent Reedy
We stormed the guest dorm building, room by room, stacking ourselves up by each door and rushing in with our rifles at the ready. The main floor had its own small kitchen, a dining room, a bathroom, and a kind of lobby. It also had a big library with a nice, solid wood table, an open fireplace, a big old globe in a stand, a zillion more paper books, and two rolling ladders. JoBell would love it. The second floor had a large latrine and sixteen small but comfortable dorm rooms.
When we were satisfied the building was clear, Mrs. Pierce led us down a trail to the staff cabins, six buildings in all, each with a single bunk and a desk. The faculty latrine cabin was just behind them. We swept the cabins and then followed the path to the English, math, science, and social studies cabins. They were like any old classroom back at Freedom Lake High, only clear up here in the mountains. The rec lodge held hiking, fishing, sports, and canoeing equipment and even a little shed at the back with some tools. Maybe we could get to a point up here where we could relax and use some of that stuff.
Another trail led us to a group of nine student cabins. This was a jackpot for lodgings, with three sets of double bunks in each one. Families could be safe and comfortable here.
A little closer to the lake, we swept through the bathhouse. Row of toilets. Row of sinks. Row of showers. It was just like the latrine at basic training except with no urinals, and the showers had divider walls and curtains. Next we cleared the dining lodge, with its big room filled with long tables and bench seats. In the heavy-duty kitchen, we found a giant walk-in freezer and refrigerator.
“Don’t open that,” Becca said. But I’d already pulled the handle. The sour, salty stench burned my nose and eyes, and I gagged before I shut the door. Becca patted my back. “Tried to warn you.”
“They must have taken off in a hurry and left all their meat behind,” said Mrs. Pierce. “Let’s hope they did the same with the pantry.” She used her master key to unlock a big wooden door at the back of the kitchen. She swung it open, and just enough light fell into the little room to let us know what we’d found. Mrs. Pierce laughed as she looked from the room to us. “Jackpot.”
“Wow,” said Crocker.
The pantry ran about twelve feet deep and eight feet wide. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with shelves, and another rack of shelves ran right down the middle. All of it, all of it, was crammed with cans and boxes and crates of food. There were like gallon cans of green beans, baked beans, pears, peaches, and mixed fruit. There was beef jerky and jars of berries and big round tins of government surplus cheese.
“A fifty-gallon drum of” — Becca leaned down to read the lid — “peanut butter? Seriously?”
“Six cases of cans of Spam,” Crocker said. “Why would they leave all this here?”
“Lots of times in winter, delivery trucks can’t make it up the road,” Mrs. Pierce said. “Alice Marshall made the rule that there should always be enough food on hand to keep everybody fed for at least a month.”
“But why didn’t the teachers and school administration take all this with them when they left?”
Mrs. Pierce shrugged. “They closed down the school early in the Idaho Crisis. Maybe they were hoping that the situation would get better so they could open the place back up. It hardly matters now. We were worried about food. Now we can relax, at least a little bit.”
A few minutes later, we were back at the parking lot.
“Any trouble?” asked Mr. Morgan.
“There’s no trouble,” Mrs. Pierce called out. “For all of us, the war is over. We’re safe now. Welcome home.”
—• Israeli Prime Minister Gideon Livnat spoke today in Tel Aviv regarding the ongoing war between Israel and the combined forces of Iran, Iraq, Egypt, Syria, and Global Jihad. The prime minister said, quote, “Israel will use all necessary measures to ensure its right to exist. If necessary, we will employ nuclear weapons to stop the enemies that threaten to destroy us.” End quote. This is the first time that Israel has openly admitted to possessing nuclear weapons, and some experts worry that such an admission is evidence of Israel’s increasing desperation in their first major war without significant US military support. •—
—• Breaker, um, anyone on this channel. Anyone listening. I’m Matt Hennes, a long-haul trucker out of Danville, Kentucky. I’m … I always worked hard. Never wanted nothing too much for myself. Took care of my family. Made sure my baby girl had food on the table and a good, safe home. But now … Jesus in Heaven. I got nothing. My daughter’s three years old, and she’s just too skinny. Me and her momma eat just once every two or three days, give all we got to our baby girl. But it ain’t enough. I’m no freeloader. No welfare case. But please. I’m desperate. I don’t need nothing for me, but does anyone on this channel have any food to spare? Please. I’ll do anything. I’ll give ya anything. I don’t have much, but you can have it. Please. My baby needs something to eat. •—
—• for a united America. The United States Congress made its final decision today on the apportionment of US representatives. With so much of the United States in a condition of rebellion, many states are not allowed representation in Congress, but for those that do remain in the union, today’s Restoration of Congress Act allows each one the same number of representatives it had before the war. Accordingly, Congress now consists of twenty-six senators and fifty-nine representatives, in contrast to the one hundred senators and four hundred and thirty-five representatives before the war. States such as Washington, Oregon, and Nevada, which are partially occupied by rebel forces, will be allowed representation as they were before the war. Congresswoman Deena Degotti of Colorado, the new Speaker of the House, hailed the legislation as, quote, “the best way for the United States to move forward, and a system that will allow for the rapid reintegration of former rebel states when the US wins the war.” End quote.
In other news, the leadership of the newest so-called independent countries, Arizona, Minnecongan, and Appalachia, were forced to face the terrible consequences of their treasonous decisions after devastating attacks last •—
—• Hey there, road warriors tuning in on CB or shortwave radio. If you’ve got fuel and you’re looking for action, come on up to the Red Bull, just off I-80 at exit 121 and up South Centerville Road. Our arena is hot tonight! We caught ourselves one hell of a tough Yew-nited States Marine gunnery sergeant, and this evening at ten, he’ll be fighting to the death against our two-time champion, former FBI agent Greg “the Snake” Smithson. It’s speed against power, and if the Snake survives one more fight, he’s earned his freedom. So come and check out the action! We’ve got cold home brew, hot card tables, and some clean and eager ladies waiting to entertain you too! •—
—• With the war expanding across the continent, controversial figure PFC Daniel Wright of the Idaho Army National Guard had been fading from the public spotlight, but as the news of his death spreads, so too does his legacy. Even in newly independent countries where Wright was less well-known, these posters are appearing in more and more places.
When we come back, Dakota News will bring you shocking cam drone footage of the aftermath of a bloody battle near Rapid City. •—
—• official radio station of Appalachia. We’d like to apologize to our listeners for periodic gaps in our programming. United States and Atlantican forces have been engaged in a deliberate attempt to prevent your government from bringing you, the people of Appalachia, the information you need. However, despite our enemies’ best efforts to silence our voice and crush our freedom, Appalachia prevails. The United States Marines who invaded Memphis last week were forced back across the Mississippi River today in a hasty retreat that cost them hundreds of lives. Meanwhile, in our North Carolina territory, the advance of Atlantican forces was halted, and Atlantica now struggles to maintain control of Charlotte, Fayetteville, and Wilmington. Colonel Brandon Steele, commander of the First Appalachian Infantry Division, estimates that his forces have killed nearly twelve hundred Atlantican soldiers and will likel
y surround and liberate Charlotte in a matter of weeks. •—
—• A rare pair of E4 tornadoes cut a swath of destruction in southeast Nebraska last night. The tornadoes moved in a northeast direction, destroying precious farmland that was growing much-needed food. The twisters leveled most of the houses in the small town of Beatrice, Nebraska, and left over half of the town’s population of roughly twelve thousand homeless. With many FEMA resources exhausted by the war or captured by newly independent countries, the survivors of this disaster must come together to help one another. •—
—• The Cliffhanger has traveled all over this collapsing society, broadcasting the truth wherever he goes. He lifts the mask on those who would proclaim themselves your next heroes, to point out the corruption and dangerous self-interest beneath. I’m broadcasting out of a van, always on the run from opportunists like Montaine, General Jacobsen, or General Vogel. They want to silence my voice so they can continue to deceive and control a people desperate for hope.
But people must realize that hope is already within them. The people of Pottsville, Pennsylvania, have discovered this truth. This city, just outside the edge of the DC fallout zone, had a population of only fifteen thousand before the war, and now fifty thousand live there in peace.
Refugees from everywhere have come to Pottsville with nothing but desperation and the clothes on their backs. The regular news media, the puppets of the new dictators, would stir fear in your hearts, telling you that all the refugee camps are dangerous traps full of crime and disease. But in Pottsville there are no camps, for the people there have welcomed the newcomers with open arms and open doors. People offer rooms in their own homes. Every office, classroom, church basement, and business stockroom is now an apartment, and more housing is being constructed as fast as the people can work. Apartment vacancies are filled. Derelict houses are restored and reoccupied. What food they have is shared, and every square inch of available ground in the area is dedicated to growing more.
The people of Pottsville, Pennsylvania, have proved that the lies of the new warlords aren’t the only answer! That the power of the gun isn’t the only truth! The warlords would ask you to rise up and help them kill, but the Cliffhanger calls upon all of you everywhere to rise up and help each other heal! •—
The Alice Marshall School’s new cemetery rested in a little valley, ringed by boulders and little cliffs rising six to eight feet on three sides. Four rough crosses made from pine limbs marked the graves of Portia Keelin, Casey Hayes, Stephanie Ollins, and Harold Gates.
“We must find strength in one another,” said the chaplain as he continued the funeral service. “We must remind one another of what our Lord Jesus promises us in the Holy Gospel according to Saint Matthew, chapter twenty-eight, verse twenty, ‘Behold, I am with you always, even unto the end of the age.’ Won’t you join with me now, and with those around you, in a word of prayer?”
I bowed my head with most everyone else. In church, before the war, prayer came easily to me. I could focus on what Chaplain Carmichael was saying. It wasn’t as easy now. Too many bad memories rippled through my thoughts. I squeezed my eyes closed and forced myself to concentrate.
“… We ask you to please bring us together, Lord, as brothers and sisters in Christ. As a family. In the name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.”
The sound of sobs and sniffles followed us as the funeral service began to break up. The cool mountain air sent a shiver through me, even with the sun shining, my sweatshirt on, and JoBell’s arm around me.
Sergeant Kemp found us as the crowd departed. “Good news and bad news.”
“I don’t know if I can take any more bad news,” JoBell said.
Kemp laughed a little. “Well, compared to everything else, this news isn’t that bad. The guys are having trouble getting the generator started, so we can’t get power anywhere, but especially where we need it — in the fridges in the kitchen. So, because some people have steaks and pork chops in the coolers, we’re going to cook all that up on the grills tonight and eat like kings. Pierce figures it will raise morale to have a sort of ‘welcome to our new home’ feast.”
“And we have to eat it now before it’ll go to waste,” said JoBell.
“I know engines,” I said. “I can help them with the generator.”
“Nope,” Kemp said. “I need you two to get to the front of the line and eat first and then hit the rack early and try to sleep.”
My shoulders slumped. I knew the bad news. “When do we go on?”
JoBell must have figured it out too. “What? Oh, come on, Tom.”
Kemp held his hands up in surrender. “What do you want from me? I have to put together a guard roster. The overnight is when the guards are most important, and you people have the most experience. You’ll be on from nineteen hundred to zero one. Then again at zero seven to thirteen hundred. I doubt we’ll have time to dig in established fighting positions by your shift, so it will be a roving patrol kind of thing.”
JoBell held up her Springfield M1A. “I’ll never be able to put this thing down.”
“Sure you will,” I said. “While you’re asleep. Anyway, rule number three. We have to make sure what’s out there doesn’t make its way in here.”
“Will you two be able to keep a lookout if I pair you together, or will you be too” — he smiled and raised his eyebrows — “distracted?”
I flipped him off. JoBell wrapped her arms around me and rubbed her leg up and down mine. “I don’t know, Sergeant Kemp. You see how hot my boy is. I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself.”
“Good. Then I’ll put you two out in the front parking lot, covering the trail we came up on.”
“She’s kidding,” I called after Kemp as he walked away.
JoBell nibbled the bottom of my ear. “I am not,” she whispered.
“Then maybe we should skip the steaks and get right to bed,” I said. “That guard shift will come early.”
“Forget that,” JoBell said, letting me go and walking down the trail toward the chow hall. “I’m hungry.”
I laughed and followed her. Cal caught up to me. He was holding hands with Samantha Monohan, but he whispered something to her and she nodded. “Hey, Jo! Wait up!” She ran ahead to catch up with JoBell.
“You get the night shift too?” Cal asked.
I nodded. “It’s cool. I’d probably be up all night with bad dreams anyway.”
We walked along in silence for a while. Ever since we were kids, Cal was the fun-loving, wild, and crazy one in our group. Sweeney’d be all, “I don’t know, Cal. Maybe the ravine is too wide,” and Cal would laugh, rev up his dirt bike, and gun the engine to make the jump.
That was before the war. Now … I’m not gonna lie. Ever since Cal found out the truth about the Brotherhood, he was like the midway at the county fair with all the power shut off. He used to walk like a tank, but now his arms and shoulders were slumped, and he dragged his feet a little.
“How you doing?” I asked.
“You believe in God?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the ground. “Like the chaplain was saying, I mean?”
“Sure,” I said.
“My old man never gave a shit if I went to church or went to jail,” Cal said. “He was never around, always on the road. But I … I always believed in the Big Man Upstairs, you know?”
“I guess.”
“You know how Carmichael was talking about Jesus forgiving and stuff?” He got real quiet. “You think that’s true? Like even after all I done, joining the Brotherhood and everything, picking up the rope they hung —”
I grabbed him under his arms and shoved him back against the trunk of a big tree. I wouldn’t have been able to do it if Cal had resisted, but his back hit hard. “Hey!” I was right up in his face. “There ain’t no way either of us could have known what Crow was gonna do with that rope he sent you to pick up. Jesus forgives you for it, and I forgive you. But you don’t talk about any of your Brotherhood stuff around
here. One thing I learned in the Army is that the fastest way to make sure the whole unit knows about something is to tell only one or two trusted friends. In a group this small, if you mention hot gossip to one person, everybody is going to know it in a few days. People might not be so understanding.”
Cal opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but only a weak sigh escaped his lips. “But … Jaclyn. How do I tell her?”
“You don’t,” I said. “She can’t handle that right now. It doesn’t matter anyway, because, you big bastard, it isn’t your fault. If some guy shoots up a store, is it the gun company’s fault?”
Cal frowned. “What? No. That’s stupid gun control crap.”
“If a guy sells a perfectly good car to another dude, who then gets in a crash and dies, is it the salesman’s fault?”
“Okay, I get what you’re saying,” Cal said. “But if I hadn’t —”
“Cal, they would have done it anyway. With or without you.”
He finally nodded and stood up straight.
“I wish I could go back in time. Do things different,” he said.
The ghost wound in my left hand flared with pain as I thought of the Battle of Boise, the death of my mother, and a hundred other things that had happened in this war. Why was it so easy for me to forgive Cal and accept God’s forgiveness for him, when I couldn’t let go of all the wrong I’d done? “I hear that, man.”
We walked down the long trail toward the chow hall. Most everyone else was way ahead of us now.
“You were right,” Cal finally said.
I kicked a rock down the trail. “About what?”
“When we were hiding in Shiratori’s basement, and I was covered in blood from cutting the hell out of those Fed assholes.”
“Maybe we ought to let the past be the past,” I said.