Dark New World (Book 4): EMP Backdraft

by Henry G. Foster

  It took only a minute or two to walk to the City Hall building, an unassuming building like any other on that block. The guard outside didn’t stop them from going inside, this time. One even nodded at them and smiled as they approached the door. Jaz was the first inside, and it took her eyes a second to adjust to the dim interior light. She called out for Delorse.

  A door opened, and the Head Falconer entered the room. Jaz had to look up to see Delorse’s eyes. Boy, she was tall. Even though the Falconry had no showers since the EMPs, the leader’s blonde hair still looked somehow perfect. “I’m jealous of your hair,” Jaz said as the two grinned hello at each other.

  After sharing greetings all around, they sat at the desk and Delorse had the attendant bring tea. Jaz missed tea, not that she was ever super knowledgeable about it. There wasn’t much to go around in Clanholme. Then the irritating need to talk about small things that didn’t matter. Jaz pretty much hated small talk. Pointless, took up time, and plus she wasn’t good at it. Thankfully, Choony was good at small talk and carried the conversation with courtesy.

  Then Delorse said, “So how was your journey? Did they let you in to talk?”

  It was about time she got to the point. Jaz flicked a bit of hair out of her eyes, then realized she was slouching and sat up straighter. Time for business. “Actually, they did. They wouldn’t let us come close to the walls at first, though. We came up from the south, where I guess they haven’t had too many problems because someone told us that if we had come up to the other gate, we’d have been shot for being refugees.”

  Delorse’s lips twitched, the only hint that she was surprised by that. “Indeed. While I don’t agree with that, I also don’t live where they do. They must have good reason.”

  It wasn’t really a question, but maybe best to answer it anyway… “They do. Lots of invader bands and hordes of refugees like locusts. I don’t think they like turning people away, the way their leader described it—‘hollow-eyed children,’ he said—but they don’t have much food for themselves. They can’t feed all those people from the cities west of them.”

  Delorse seemed to relax then. Maybe. Jaz couldn’t be sure. But she had done what she could to not start any new quarrel between Falconry and Lebanon. “What is the area like between us and them? We haven’t sent any scouts that way for a while, preferring to keep them close to home. Early warning in case Lebanon decided to attack us.”

  “Um. Well, there are lots of small groups, invaders running around and stuff. We had to hide from them, once. They’re moving in groups of five, just like at Brickerville on the other side of the forest south of you. I didn’t see any refugees. The invaders take a lot of pot-shots at the guards on the wall, so everyone is all tensed up. They’re tired from pulling double watches, and they’re all a bit hungry.”

  Delorse grinned. “The invaders are tired and hungry? Great!”

  Jaz felt her cheeks flush. Stupid cheeks. “No! Not them. Lebanon’s people. Sorry. They gotta keep twice the normal guards up on the wall to see everything, and the ’vaders shoot at them. More like toward them. The Lebanon mayor thinks the ’vaders are trying to get the guards to use up all their ammo shooting back, but he caught on quick, so now the guards don’t shoot back unless they have, like, a good solid target.”

  Delorse took a flinching sip of hot tea, then set the cup down. “So to the meat of the issue, shall we? Were they interested in a truce with us, or do we need to keep worrying about raids?”

  Choony coughed, then said, “They are indeed interested. A truce would suit their needs, and they seem to be decent enough people, but they’re hungry. The refugees stripped everything in the region bare. That’s the only reason they raided you. I feel they have genuine remorse, Delo. They were kind to us once we convinced them we were not refugees or raiders, nor did they steal our supplies. Not that we brought much, but if they raided because they wanted to, rather than needed to, they would have taken ours. As it was, our supplies wouldn’t help them much, and they left us and our supplies alone.”

  Delorse steepled her fingers in front of her face, elbows on the desk, and let out a deep breath. She was quiet for a minute or two and looked like she was seriously thinking about what Choo Choo had said. “Alright. They seem like ordinary people, then. Who wouldn’t do whatever was needed to feed their children? So then, peace may be possible. In fact, it would be in both our interests to develop a relationship. They don’t need another enemy on another flank, and we could use both the friendship and the trade. They also apparently are one reason we haven’t been hit with floods of refugees so in a sense, we owe them. What did they say they need? Maybe it’s something we can provide.”

  Jaz watched as Choony leaned forward, listening to Delorse’s words, but his left hand was busy drumming fingers on the edge of his chair. She knew him well enough to recognize this as a tense or bored habit. Probably tense. He never really worried about things, but he always seemed to really care about things like people suffering. Especially kids.

  Choony said, “What they need is something you yourselves can’t provide, which is food. Yet you’re trying to be a trade hub, right? It seems to me you might be able to arrange some trade agreements that let you set up a different deal with Lebanon, with you in the middle as maybe an escrow service. That puts you in a very useful position.”

  “Maybe… It’s a fine idea, but is it practical? Brickerville has some food, but not enough to feed themselves, us, and Lebanon together. Our other trading partners are smaller still, homesteads mostly. They can’t trade for much yet, and without working tractors and trucked-in fertilizers and pesticides, they’re in a bind until they can get next year’s crops in and figure out how to do this in a new way. Or rather, shift to some very old ways.”

  That got Jaz’s attention. She felt rather foolish for not thinking of the idea herself, when she was actually in Lebanon, but Delorse had just given her a great idea.

  “Interesting. I know we said you’d get us another gasifier in trade for some food, but we know where there is enough to feed all of Lebanon through the winter, at least.”

  Choony sat bolt upright. At least she had his attention now. What did a girl have to do to get his attention, anyway? Give away the store? Then she wondered why that thought had been so bitter, but shoved it aside for the moment.

  “And what in return?” Delorse asked mildly. She leaned back in her chair, obviously trying not to look too interested, but Jaz knew right away when someone was interested in something she had. At some point they had slipped into negotiation mode, and Jaz knew she was damn good at that. Before the EMPs it had been a survival thing, learned through hard lessons with bad men. Life in the streets.

  “We can always use a third gasifier. But there’s more.”

  Delorse moved her hands away from her face and laid them on the desk. She hadn’t flinched when Jaz mentioned a gasifier, so that was a yes, at least.

  Jaz continued, “As you know, there are some survivor communities that aren’t as nice as the Falconry and the Clan, or Lebanon or Brickerville for that matter, and the invaders also look like they’re moving into our neighborhood. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Empire—they’re coming, too, probably with the new spring, and they don’t have any room for a free trade town anywhere near them. It’s not in their plans.”

  “You want my Falconry to follow your war drum, is that it? Sorry, sweetie. Falcons don’t fly in flocks. We won’t join you in attacking the Empire, nor Adamstown. What else do you have?”

  “You have it wrong,” said Jaz, putting on her best smile, broadcasting cheerful amusement at the misunderstanding for all she was worth. This one could go south in a hurry if she messed it up. “We don’t want you to join us. You’re too useful as a trading hub. Essential, even. You have to stay neutral. Sorry to be so blunt, but since the invasion Clanholme doesn’t have time or patience for old-school politics. I’m laying it all out here. You’ll do what’s right for your people, just like we will for ours,
and like Lebanon will. But we’ve only just started to put it all together, you know?”

  Yeah, that was a veiled threat buried in there, or maybe a warning—seriously consider what the Clan offers, or no deal and no food, and a hungry, pissed off Lebanon just north of you. “What we want is to give you the food you need to get you and Lebanon through the winter, at the price of Lebanon’s alliance with Clanholme. And Brickerville. And Ephrata. And Liz Town. All of us in a confederation with the Falconry providing our essential, neutral trading center. Together we can clear a big area of the raiding refugees, invader death squads, and hopefully, even the Empire. You stay officially neutral as the trade hub. Heck, maybe you could even trade with the Empire. That’d be risky…”

  Delorse looked thoughtful. “So we can even trade with the Empire for the stuff your confederation needs, if I read this right,” Delorse replied. She smiled. “The Empire, and the nearest ’vader enclave too, maybe. Our brave new world…”

  “That’s right, maybe. And all the while passing us the info, the four-one-one. Spying. On our side in spirit and in passing us information, but not in public. Just good neighbors.” Jaz glanced to Choony and saw that he watched her intently, but he looked calm. He was always more comfortable with truth, and what she said was the honest truth. Cross her heart, hope to die.

  Delorse got up from her chair, and smiled. “It sounds like a workable plan, so long as we are the neutral ones. I just hope you aren’t flying blind.” Again with the bird references… “You’ve got the Clan’s reputation on your side, which might work in your favor. I’ll need time to clear it with my Falconeers, but I’d like to work with you on this.”

  Jaz grinned, then said, “Oh please. You’re the Head Falconer. You don’t run a democracy any more than the Clan does, probably for the very same reasons, but I understand if you need time to decide.”

  Delorse nodded, but remained silent.

  Jaz continued, “How ’bout Choony and I go hook up our wagon, get the gasifier on it, and resupply at your market. We’ll come by on our way out of town to get your decision. Whatever your answer, we’re happy to honor the original deal. Five barrels of cider, two tons of grains, two more when spring arrives, all in exchange for a second gasifier on final delivery. Anything more can be a separate arrangement, but this will get us all through the winter and put our trading onto a solid footing.” She liked that last bit—it sounded so mature.

  Delorse shrugged. “I figured you would honor that deal either way—it’s a good deal for both of us.” A smile crept onto Delores’s face. “One good turn deserves another—we have a surprise for you, waiting at your wagon.”

  “Oh really? Is it a pony? I always wanted a pony.”

  “Ha! No. Nothing that ‘peachy keen,’ my girl. You’ll just have to settle for your four troops that you got separated from. They followed your trail here and have been hanging around flirting with every attractive young man or woman who passes by. I’d appreciate it if you got them out of here before they get too comfortable and decide they don’t want to leave.”

  Jaz grinned. She was obviously joking. Mostly joking, anyway. At least Delores had a sense of humor like her own—a bit rough and acidic. “Thank you, Delores. On behalf of the Clan, I appreciate you taking care of our lost sheepdogs. Maybe more like pit bulls, since they survived long enough to get here. If you decide to take us up on the other deal, I’ll take it to Cassy, but I’m sure she’ll be thrilled. I know I am.”

  Choony shook Delorse’s hand and said, “The Buddha has said, ‘Better than a thousand hollow words is one word that brings peace.’ I hope your word is ‘yes,’ but know that my word is ‘friend.’ May we meet again, Delo.” He bowed and then he and Jaz walked out into the dim winter sunlight to fetch their wagon. Jaz was still smiling.

  * * *

  Choony sat with Jaz on the wagon, quietly chatting about nothing much. Their reunion with the soldiers he had thought lost had been joyful but necessarily brief. As they left the Falconry and then Brickerville behind, two soldiers always rode ahead and one to either side of their precious gasifier load, all of them keeping it barely in view as they traveled. When Brickerville faded behind, Choony felt the bittersweet, mixed joy and sadness normal at the end of a risky but successful adventure. Almost home now, and Choony couldn’t get the thought of a hot shower out of his mind. His physical discomfort was mostly irrelevant, but the hot water and the white noise of the water falling always helped him find his center again. His harmony would be enhanced, and that’s what he so looked forward to.

  Then Choony saw the two lead guards stopped in the middle of the trail before them. He nudged Jaz, and reined the horses to a gentle stop. After a couple minutes, one of the guards rode back toward the wagon.

  Once within easy earshot, he called out to Choony, “Councilman, there is a large body of troops ahead, traveling the same direction as us—toward Clanholme.” He looked tense, eyes narrowed and jaw clasped.

  “Very well. Can we make out any details, and how far away are they?”

  “Sir, there are at least fifteen of them. Enough for a raid or recon-in-force, but not for a frontal assault. Armed with rifles and mounted so they are highly mobile. They wear black battlefield dress. The rifles have the look of AK-forty-sevens.”

  This was distressing. The Clan might be caught unaware, unless they were alerted—and the Falconry had their radio. “How fast are the invaders traveling?”

  “They’re moving at a slow enough pace that they may be conserving their mounts for the raid, and to exfiltrate the op area afterward. Not slow, but definitely at a cavalry’s walking speed.”

  Jaz said, “So we gotta go around them, right? Try to just go faster than them and get home before they do. It doesn’t matter if our mounts get tired, they’ll be home when we get there.”

  Choony shrugged. “If we get there first, that would be a good thing. Alright, let’s go. Circle east and then continue south so we stay out of view.” He looked to the guard. “Stay closer as we move. Don’t lose us. We can’t afford to lose this gasifier, either.”

  The miles passed quickly. The horses began to slow after maybe half an hour, but the farm was close now. The scent of all the Clan’s hundreds of kinds of plants gave the area around Clanholme a unique odor, and Choony caught whiff of it. He saw a familiar copse of trees ahead. “We overshot the farm,” he shouted. “Turn west, we’ll come up on the south edge of the farm, where the animals are penned. Mind the traps when we hit the woods! You all know where they are.”

  Choony shook the reins to signal the horses to give more speed, but he kept it light—enough to renew their energy for one last, long spurt.

  They came to the hill and saw the animal pens at the crest. Somewhere up there was a sandbagged position, but the guards would recognize their own. They careened up to the base of the hill and lost some momentum as they began to climb. Simple physics, of course, but the hill didn’t slow the horses too much.

  Then a faint report from a rifle reached his ears, and then another. Buddha, they were too late to warn the Clan. He felt his inner harmony flee. “Guards, you are released. Go, go, go! Help them,” he cried out.

  Nothing was permanent, of course, and all things eventually passed. Even the mountains would someday be worn flat by the elements. The lives of these people meant little in the grand scheme of things, and their Karma would live on if they died, but even so, Choony’s inner harmony wouldn’t return. In this moment, his Karma was not good. In the next life, the next moment, he would begin in a troubled state. This, however, was no time for meditation or philosophy. Action was needed, though it always disturbed one’s serenity.

  Choony whipped the horses into as fast a pace as they could safely maintain while hitched to a wagon, and then they were over the crest. The southern food forest lay below them, between the Complex and him and Jaz. Momentum carried them now, as fast as the struggling horses had done but with much less effort for them. It was a serene thought, that their hors
es may be regaining their own harmony even as he and Jaz propelled them all down the hill toward danger.

  “I take refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha, never lies, never violent. All things pass. Karma and destiny…”

  Her eyes wide, Jaz listened to Choony chant his peace and marveled at his calm tone as they rolled down the hill toward where the bullets flew.

  - 10 -

  1030 HOURS - ZERO DAY +148

  CASSY VAULTED OVER her bed to reach the hand radio on her nightstand, which crackled as Ethan broadcast from the bunker’s camera monitor station.

  “Charlie One this is Bravo One. Tangos incoming from the north. They’ve avoided the traps. Unknown number. Over.”

  No kidding, Sherlock. The shooting had already begun… “Bravo One, Charlie One. Copy that, we’re under fire! Get me a count and recall the scouts.” Cassy cut off the talk without wasting time to close the radio conversation properly.

  She slid back across her bed to the small, north-facing window where her rifle leaned against the wall and just barely peeked out the window. It would be unfortunate if someone got a lucky shot on her, but the odds of that dropped if she took deep breaths and moved slowly. Don’t draw attention, she told herself in a patient hunter’s mantra. As she peered out, her right hand found her rifle’s burled black oak hand guard.

  Cassy could hear intermittent firing, both from nearby and out within and beyond the Jungle. In the summer and fall, it would be hard to move through the dense growth of those intensive gardening beds, but they would also have blocked her view almost completely. Now, with most of the vegetation winter-dead and matted, the snow-covered Jungle looked like a dense series of small white hills. She could see people in cover behind those mounds, but only a few and only when they moved.