After the End: Recent Apocalypses

by Kage Baker

  It was all for naught. They crossed the border unharmed but were stopped by the Mounties the next morning, about five miles in. The Canadians were not cruel, but they said little. They confiscated the trailer—all their food and water and medicines. Bear complained and the soldiers only shrugged. They locked them in a windowless warehouse at their border station, along with dozens of other refugees: people of all nationalities, all religions, all races. The world’s detritus, tossed up against a nation’s borders. Bear tried to doze on the hard concrete. His tailbone ached and the burn on his arm hurt like hell.

  They were there for about six days. They were fed, but the cramped and uncomfortable quarters and their own low spirits made time drag. Late one afternoon—or so Bear guessed from the slant of the sun’s rays on the wall—he heard noises outside. After a while, the guards brought them out into the sunlight, where a convoy of big military trucks waited. A Canadian officer turned them over to a group of men in a hodgepodge of American uniforms. Patty gripped Bear’s arm so tight she nearly broke the skin.

  “You know them?” Bear asked.

  She nodded. “I recognize that one.” She gestured with her chin at the officer who spoke to the Canadians. “He is el coronets number-three man.” Her skin had gone pallid. “The man whose camp we escaped in Denver.”

  She faded back among the others and kept her head down as the first lieutenant walked past. He wore Air Force insignia. The man stopped and looked Bear over.

  “Name?” he asked.

  “Bear Jessen. Lately of Rexford.”

  The lieutenant shouted over his shoulder, “Load them up!”

  They were hustled toward the trucks. They tried to stay together, but the trucks only held twelve or so. This did not bode well.

  Bear towered above the rest. He caught Patty’s gaze, and then Tommy’s and Vanessa’s. Somehow, they all understood what needed to happen—they each gathered the children nearest them, whispering, passing the word. Bear took the youngest six, the five-and-under set. Bear and his kids sat near the back of the open transport, across from a young soldier with a rifle across his knees. Land passed by; Bear recognized the road, and the miles and miles of wind power generators. They were headed over the Grand Tetons, toward Spokane.

  Penelope and Paul, the toddler twins, cried inconsolably. Bear pulled them onto his lap and bounced them on his knee making shushing sounds. The other little ones sat looking out at the scenery, to all appearances unafraid.

  That night they reached a military base. The sign by the road said FAIRCHILD AIR FORCE BASE. They passed a munitions dump and an enormous hangar, and rows and rows of military barracks. The trucks came to a halt at a roundabout in the middle of the camp. Soldiers unloaded them all from the trucks. Floodlights lit the concrete pad they stood on. They gathered the refugees in a circle. Two officers came out of the nearby barracks. One of them spoke to the lieutenant. Bear knew instantly he was the colonel.

  The colonel was a big man, perhaps six-foot-four. He wore a gun at his belt and Air Force insignia. He was no true military man, though: His hair was long and unkempt and he wore a bushy beard.

  “We need to resolve some questions,” the colonel said. He looked them all over, then walked up to Bear. “I understand that it was your group that had these . . . ” He had one of his men spread out on the ground the weapons and supplies Bear and Tommy had taken from Zach and Arden. “I think you must be the leader. I want to know who the members of your group are, and what happened to my two men.”

  Bear merely looked at him. The colonel pulled out his gun and shot one of the other refugees in the head, a young man Patty’s age. Bear cried out. He couldn’t help himself. Not one of ours, he thought, heart pounding. Not one of ours. He felt shame that that mattered.

  “What kind of sick bastard are you?”

  “I do my duty,” the colonel replied. “And I look after my men. Anyone who harms them has to account for it. You people”—he gestured at Bear and the rest of the refugees—“may be useful to me. But only up to a point.”

  Bear opened his mouth to tell the man exactly where he could stuff his duty. That would no doubt have been the end of him. But Patty stepped out and spoke up.

  “He is not the leader,” she said. “I am.”

  Recognition bloomed on the colonel’s face.

  “Patricia,” he said. “Is it really you? Somehow I’m not surprised to find you mixed up with the disappearance of my men. Lieutenant, get her cleaned up and take her to my quarters. I want to question her personally. Take the rest of the refugees to be processed.”

  Another man strode up, saying “Excuse me, Colonel. Colonel!”

  Bear recognized that voice. He turned to stare. His old pastor!

  Des had aged. He looked as healthy as ever, though; even rotund. He wore his reverend’s collar and a cross. The military man watched Des greet Bear. Then Des turned to the colonel. “Colonel O’Neal, I can personally vouch for this man. He was part of my congregation for years. He doesn’t belong with them.” Des waved a hand at the rest of the refugees. He said more quietly, “He’s an engineer.”

  The colonel gave Bear a penetrating look, then shrugged.

  “Very well. If he’s of use . . . But I believe he is mixed up with the disappearance of some of my men. I’ll want to question him. Meanwhile, I’ll hold you responsible for him, Reverend.” He waved them away. Bear felt Patty’s gaze burning into the back of his neck, as he let himself be led away by his old friend.

  “Thank the Lord you are still alive,” Des said as he showed him through the darkened camp. “I’ve wondered about you over the years. Gloria will be so happy to see you. Orla?”

  Bear shook his head. “Lost her,” he said. “Lung disease. Cancer, we think.”

  Des looked up at Bear and laid a hand on his arm. “She’s with God now.”

  Bear’s molars ground together. But he tried to take the words as Des intended: as comfort.

  “Don’t worry about the colonel,” Des said. “Just keep your head down. You’ll do fine.”

  “Hard for me to do,” Bear replied, “keeping my head down.” Des seemed to think he was joking, and chuckled. “How did you end up here?”

  “Gloria and I never made it to Seattle. Fortunately we found this refuge. We joined Colonel O’Neal’s company a long time since, and we have been here doing the Lord’s work, helping to comfort the soldiers and succor the refugees.”

  Succor? Was that what they were calling it now?

  “Colonel O’Neal is building an army,” Des went on. “He is working with others across the US to rebuild and reclaim our country. It’s a great endeavor! You must join us. We need you.” He showed Bear the barracks, the “soldiers” doing drills, the fuel and military vehicles. Obviously O’Neal had big plans.

  “The man doesn’t look very military.”

  “Well . . . technically, he’s not.” In fact, the remaining few US military battalions had been disbanded twelve years ago. There might be a few companies here and there, in the major cities, but they reported up no chain of command. “But that’s going to change soon. He wants to reconstitute the US: reunite the entire northern portion of the country.”

  He went on like this for a while. Bear fell silent. Des eventually seemed to notice. He stopped and turned. “I know we parted on less-than-friendly terms, Bear, but that’s all behind us. I hope you know that. It’s a sign from God that you are here. I’m so thankful to see you.”

  Bear said, “Pastor, we were friends once, and I’m grateful for your help just now. But I have no intention of joining Colonel O’Neal in these escapades. I simply want to take my kids and go.”

  “Kids?” Pastor Des seemed confused. “You and Orla never had kids.”

  “I mean the kids I came in with. The refugees. I made a promise. I mean to keep it.”

  Des got a horrified look. “Oh, no, no, no. You have to let that go, Bear. There’s nothing you can do for them now. They’re destined for a munitions factory in
Denver. We need all the hands we can get, to help us prepare for war.”

  “What?”

  “This is God’s plan! To make America great. We’re going to invade Canada.”

  Now it was Bear’s turn to stare, horrified. “Des . . . that’s insane.”

  “I thought so too, at first. But it’s a good plan. Let me show you.”

  He had brought Bear to a giant hangar. The hangar had big radioactivity warning signs on it, and Authorized Personnel Only. A guard stood outside. He glowered at them, but Desmond gave him a stern look and he let them through. Des must be in good with the colonel. Or he had something on him.

  Inside the hangar was a blimp—the largest airship Bear had ever seen. It was lit by floodlights. People, ant-size against its flanks, swarmed around working on it. Beneath its belly was a cabin the size of a 757, and numerous missiles. Nuclear weapons.

  “It’s nearly ready,” Des said. “It’s one of five military blimps that were built in the thirties and forties. Four are still in good repair. They’ve been moved to our northern border and are being outfitted for battle. The colonel is coordinating with other military commanders west of the Great Lakes.” You mean warlords, Bear thought. “We’ve uncovered this cache of nuclear warheads, and are going to use our blimp to deliver them to the other airships soon. I’m told they are even getting orders from Washington,” he said in a hushed voice tinged with awe. Unlikely, Bear thought, unless a tin pot dictator had set up shop in the White House. Which since Washington, D.C., was uninhabitable in the summer, like most of the US south of about forty degrees north latitude, did not make sense.

  Des went on, “We’re shorthanded. We need engineers who can help keep equipment in repair. Here’s a chance for you to show your worth. The colonel will reward you.”

  Bear stared at his old friend. They stood beneath one of the few lights in the camp that was not burned out. Words wouldn’t come. Nuke Canada? The sheer delusional magnitude of the plan overwhelmed thought.

  Des misinterpreted his silence. “Impressive, isn’t it? Our glory days are ahead.”

  Bear rubbed his mouth. “I’m a railroad engineer, Des. I know nothing about aeronautics. Never mind airship technology. Or nuclear weapons.”

  “A machine is a machine. You’ll figure it out.”

  Des took Bear to his place, where Gloria made him a late dinner. They served a meal the likes of which he had not had in years: bread with real butter, roast chicken, yams, and asparagus, with a glass of ’82 Merlot.

  “Impressive provisions,” he remarked. Des beamed. “Yes. The colonel has his connections.”

  “I’ll get the cheesecake,” Gloria said, laying her napkin on the chair. She shared a look with Bear that told him a great deal about Des, Gloria, and the choices they had made.

  Des swirled his wine in his glass. “Too bad you didn’t find us earlier, Bear. Maybe they could have treated Orla’s cancer.”

  Really, he shouldn’t have mentioned Orla. “You never much cared for her, did you, though?” Bear asked.

  “Aw, Bear. That’s water under the bridge.”

  But something about deciding he was ready to die made all this a lot easier for Bear. The church held no more power over him. And he found he had a lot of things to say. “I seem to recall you hated her for her defiance of the church.”

  Des’s face grew stiff. “It was not for me to judge her. That’s God’s job.”

  A knock came at the door. Gloria answered, looking anxious. An enlisted man stood there. “The colonel wants to talk to Mr. Jessen.”

  Bear shook his head. “You still spin such amazing bullshit out of your own hot air.”

  Des’s lips went thin. He stood and threw his napkin on his chair. “You want to know what I think? God punished your wife for her defiance. It’s too late for her. But you have a chance to repent. Jesus welcomes you with open arms. Come to me when you are ready.”

  “I don’t think so.” Bear stood. Orla, he shouldn’t have implied that, about your cancer being God’s punishment. At the door, he turned. “I’m done with your God and I don’t think we have anything more to say to each other.”

  The airman took Bear to a room at the command barracks, where Colonel O’Neal and his second-in-command waited. Two armed men stood outside the door. They made him sit in the room’s only chair.

  “Now it’s time for you to tell us what happened to my men out on Highway 93,” the colonel said.

  What the hell, Bear thought. “All right. I killed your men myself. I’d do it again if I had the chance. They were about to slaughter a group of innocent children.”

  They stared at him as if he had grown two heads. The colonel said, “I didn’t think we’d have it out of you so quickly.”

  Bear shrugged. Death by firing squad seemed an okay way to go. Death by torture, not so much.

  “They weren’t necessarily going to kill them,” the colonel said. “We need strong arms and backs for our war effort. Of course I give my troops broad discretion. We have an agreement with the Canadians. We help protect their borders and they give us any refugees who make it across.”

  “Ironic, that, since you are using those refugees to build ammunition to attack the Canadians.”

  The colonel looked at him thoughtfully. “Yes.” He paced for a moment. The major stood by the door, silent. “Ordinarily I would have you executed, Mr. Jessen. But we are in sore need of engineers. So Major Stedtler and I”—he gestured at the other officer—“have decided to give you a reprieve. If we can count on your cooperation, we will keep the children you traveled with here, and not send them off to the factory.”

  Hostages, Bear thought. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “I’m a man of my word, Mr. Jessen.”

  The hell you are. “What about Patty?”

  “No, you can’t have Patricia. I have other plans for her.”

  At that, Bear caught a fleeting shadow in the major’s eyes. Disgust? Anger? Or envy?

  “I want to see the children now.”

  The colonel studied Bear. “All right. Fair enough. But I have my limits. For every stunt you pull, one of your kids gets a bullet. Clear?”

  “As crystal.”

  Bear might be old. He might not be as massive as he once was, and his joints in the morning were stiff. But he was still plenty big and plenty strong. And he wasn’t afraid of dying anymore. He surged at the colonel and picked him up by the neck. His hand encircled the colonel’s neck as easily as a normal-sized adult’s hand might encircle a child’s. He plucked the gun from the colonel’s holster with his other hand. To Bear’s joy, it turned out to be his own Colt .45.

  The colonel flailed in his grip, pinned with his back against Bear’s massive chest. Bear put the colonel between himself and the major and eased his grip on the colonel’s throat, just enough to let air through. As he did so, the two armed men burst in and aimed their weapons at him. Colonel O’Neal made wheezing noises but couldn’t speak. Bear said, “Drop your guns on the floor. Kick them over to me. Then lie on the floor with your hands on your heads”

  The men did so. The major said, “You’ll never make it out of here.”

  “You let me worry about that part,” Bear said.

  He got the information he needed from the major, and left him trussed up and gagged in the interrogation room, secured to a pipe. Each of the colonel’s two guards he left in their own little rooms, also securely tied and gagged. He wasn’t a big fan of shooting people out of turn, but couldn’t have them alerting the camp. He tied and gagged the colonel, too, and carried him out over his shoulder, like a sack of grain. He crossed the camp in darkness to the building Des had pointed out to him as the colonel’s quarters. He knocked several times before Patty’s face appeared at the window.

  Her eyes widened. She gestured and shouted. He could barely hear her.

  “It’s locked! I can’t get out!” So Bear kicked the door in.

  He came inside and dumped the colonel on the carpet.
The room was dark other than the light streaming in through the door. Patty gazed at the colonel with contempt. She was wearing a flimsy nightgown. She gave him a good, hard kick in the testicles. Colonel O’Neal curled up with a moan.

  “Let me get dressed,” she said.

  “Hurry.”

  When she came back in, she was wearing her clothes from before, Orla’s jeans and sneakers and a T-shirt, and was tying her long hair into a bun. “What are we going to do with him?” she asked, gesturing at the colonel.

  Bear hadn’t wanted to kill the colonel. But after seeing Patty in the nightgown, he had changed his mind. He raised his gun but Patty put her hand on the barrel. “No. We may need him.” She pulled Bear out of the colonel’s earshot. “We can rescue the children and steal a vehicle.”

  “And I know exactly which vehicle to steal,” Bear said, thinking of the airship. “Do you know where the kids are?”

  “I do. They are in a big building,” Patty said. “A room with benches where people watch sports. What do you call it?”

  “A gymnasium?” Bear asked.

  “Yes. A gymnasium.” She pronounced it hymn-nauseum. “All right, then. We’re getting out of here. We’re headed to Hoku Pa’a.”

  Amusement glinted in her gaze. “I thought you didn’t believe in Hoku Pa’a.”

  “If it doesn’t exist yet, it will when we get there.”

  She smiled.

  The best-guarded place in camp was the hangar with the nuke-encrusted blimp. He glanced at his watch. It was midnight. They needed to be out of here before dawn and there was too much to do before then. He looked at Patty, so fierce a woman, so tiny—barely more than a child herself. He grimaced. Dammit, Orla; she’s given me something to care about. He handed her an automatic weapon. “Can you rescue the children on your own?”

  “I can.”

  “You sure? It’s important, Patty. Don’t say yes if you don’t mean it.”

  “I saw only two guards guarding the gymnasium as we passed by, and they were both drunk.” She glowered. “You have to trust me, Bear. I know what I am doing.”

  “All right. I’m going to need time to rig a diversion. It’ll take most of the night.” He took her to the kitchen, and gestured at Des and Gloria’s place. A light shone in their window. “I want you to take the kids there.” He pointed. “Hide the kids. Take Desmond—the man—hostage. Tell him you need to talk to his wife. When she comes out, you bring out the kids out. Her name’s Gloria. You tell her Bear said they needed a good meal and a decent night’s sleep. She’ll make sure they are taken care of.