They followed her from behind as she brought the man into a room with several other patients, mostly unconscious. There were IV bags next to every bed. Two male nurses lifted the man onto a bed of his own and connected an IV tube under his wrist. There were twenty-six other patients in the room, some looking worse than others. Terrance wondered how long the chaos from the first floor would find its way to the fourth.
He scribbled some generic information on the man's paperwork and wrote his name simply as “John Doe.” Before they left, Terrance placed the paperwork on the man's bed with one hundred dollars hidden within. They left the hospital without looking back.
***
Ten hours later, the man woke up in his hospital bed as light shined through the cracks in the curtains. He was disoriented, having no clue of where or who he was. An IV bag was connected to his arm, and there were several other patients in the room, looking to be in conditions similar to his.
His movements were slow and painful. His head pounded mercilessly and his throat was dry and scratchy. Every part of his body ached, and he could see that his right leg and left arm were in a sling. With his free hand, he felt his head. He let out a groan and ran his fingers over the thick spool of bandages. None of it made sense. He tried to move but was only met with pain. A few moments later the resident nurse, Ms. Sylvia, entered the room.
“And how are we today, Mr. Doe?” she asked with a worn smile. She had a large Dixie cup in her hand and held it to the man's lips. He sipped the water and immediately felt better, but no less confused.
“What did you call me?” he asked.
“Your friends,” she said. “Real pranksters. Well, actually more than that. They failed to provide us any information about you and just left. I had to fight to keep you up here. But now that we've got you awake, you can tell us who you are.”
The man thought hard. “I don't know,” he said slowly, wincing from the pain. “I just know that I need to get to Washington before it's too late.”
Suspicions
7:00 a.m. was breakfast time at Camp Liberty, and most everyone was up and eating in the dining tent. The menu that morning was a tad uninspired, but no one complained. They had a choice between grits or oatmeal. The food supply was getting low, and it would soon be field rations purchased from the Army surplus. Everything left was placed under lock and key in the camp's modest food storage shed. While hunting, fishing, and gardening provided a third of their weekly meals, more people meant more needed supplies. Not everything could be provided by the forest around them.
The reality was that they had to venture back into the “civilized world” to get what they needed. Their expenditures throughout town consisted of simple supply runs. These runs, however, consisted of looting anything they could find. Everything was up for grabs. They had even made a name for themselves in town and a reputation of fear and harassment. There was less and less to take, and the townspeople were desperate to hold onto what they had. They were starting to fight back. This created a dilemma concerning their pillaging. But the fact remained that another purge was necessary.
Some of Russell's men were out conducting rifle training with Shane and Jeff, their new and youngest recruits. Danny, however, wasn't making a strong enough effort to fit in. His attitude was a constant problem, and it was clear he didn't want to be there. Russell was concerned that Danny--like his friend Chris--was a liability, but there was still hope. Perhaps day after day of kitchen duty would lower his spirits as well as his resistance.
Russell understood psychology and how to use it to his benefit. The college kids were one thing, but James and his crew presented an entirely new set of challenges and considerations. They were a tight-knit group who were knowledgeable about prepping. Russell went over their names carefully the night before: James, Mark, Janice, Christina, and Paula. They could each serve a role in benefiting the cause, but he hadn't made any clear determinations yet. James seemed to be the de facto leader of the group. If they could influence James, they could influence the rest. Maybe even Paula. There was no doubt that James was the key to controlling the rest of them.
James shoveled bland oatmeal into his mouth. It wasn't the Holiday Inn, but at least they had food. No one had brought up Terrance, Tobias, or Richie yet. James didn't want to disclose too much information, especially if they decided on leaving. But they would have to say something soon. James had suspicions about Camp Liberty but also wanted to give it a chance. He enjoyed the regimented atmosphere. It took him back. In a way, James admired them. He took another bite of his oatmeal and felt a deep sadness from within. He missed his home. For a brief moment, everything felt lost.
Christina wanted nothing more than to see Terrance. She felt excited and rejuvenated by the thought of having her family back together. She looked at Paula and watched her down a small bowl of grits. The sight brought a smile to her face. It wasn't the best food, but things could be worse. Mark and Janice sat at the table trying to wake themselves up with cups of steaming coffee.
Russell sat across from them at the dining table. Kyle sat to his right while Eli sat to his left. Each of them scooped hot grits into their mouths. Having finished preparing breakfast, Danny and a few of Russell's men at the kitchen station gathered up the used pots and pans to be washed. Danny's expressionless face revealed nothing of his despondency, but his quiet moodiness was a dead giveaway. He was thinking, and was determined to find out what had happened to Chris once and for all.
“So did everyone sleep well?” Russell asked James.
“Yes, the beds were very comfortable.”
“Slept like a rock,” Mark added.
“You kicked me in your sleep,” Janice said.
Mark turned to her, feigning offense. “Well, maybe we should sleep in different beds then.”
“It's your call, buddy,” Janice said.
Christina chimed in. “I slept fine, thank you.” She looked at Paula, who appeared to be in a morning trance. “How did you sleep, honey?”
“Fine, I guess.”
Russell clasped his hands together. “Excellent. Good to hear. I'm glad we can finally have a decent conversation this morning over breakfast.”
“What's on your mind, Russell?” Mark said, taking a sip of coffee from a tin cup.
“I understand that you guys are dying to get some information from me about what's going on out there, right?”
“Oh yeah,” Mark said.
James cut in. “What sort of information do you have, Russell?”
Russell confidently leaned back in his chair. He reveled in the attention. “As you know, we've been monitoring the radio for the past few weeks, and there's been some recent developments.”
The group went silent in anticipation. Russell's men continued to dig through their bowls, not paying the conversation any mind. Russell coughed slightly and continued. “As I explained to James last night, we've ventured into town a few times to gather supplies, and much has changed.”
“What kind of changes?” James said. “You didn’t elaborate.” As a permanent Milledgeville resident, he was the most concerned of all.
“Shortages all across the board. Food, medical, fuel—well, that doesn't matter as much anymore, now does it? The EMP has had a tremendous effect on Milledgeville already. Without power and the most basic kinds of communications, it's descended into anarchy.”
“What about the police? Where are they in all of this?” James asked in disbelief.
“I think you know as well as I do how Milledgeville residents can handle themselves,” Russell said.
“Not sure I know what you mean,” James said.
“I mean that the cops have fled, James. Maybe you are all unaware, but there's a massive migration going on now. The news media have termed it 'the great flight.' People are pouring into the major cities from neighboring towns, suburbs, and rural areas hoping to find answers.”
“Why would anyone do anything that stupid?” Mark asked. “Anyone with a brain would
know that you have to get as far away from the cities as possible.”
“True,” Russell said. “Most people mean well. It's not their fault. They're just doing what they're told.”
“What are you talking about?” James asked.
“The federal government is controlling the response to this crisis. They want a state of emergency. They're actively encouraging evacuations to the nearest cities. That way everyone is under their control. They say that up to 70 percent of the nation's power grids have been compromised. Well, that's only the beginning.”
James could appreciate Russell's passion, but he thought they were getting off track. It sounded more like a conspiracy theory than useful information.
Even Mark wasn't convinced. “I don't trust the government any more than the next guy, but that sounds a little farfetched. There's no way they could engineer such a thing.”
“We're at war here, gentlemen,” Russell said, unaffected by their doubt.
“With who?” Mark demanded.
Russell slammed his hand down on the table, startling everyone. “Does it really matter?”
“Or course it does,” Mark said.
“It was a strategically coordinated attack from rogue aircraft carriers off in the Atlantic,” Russell told them, his voice hushed. “The missiles that hit Georgia, for instance, were fired from a carrier off the coast of Cuba.” He paused and looked intently at Mark. “Do you feel better now?”
“Where did you hear that?” James asked.
Christina and Janice didn't know what to think. The adults barely had Paula's attention. As was often the case, her mind drifted to other things. She was back home, hanging out in her room listening to music. Rebecca, her best friend, came on video chat, and they talked about going to the mall and all the plans they had for Saturday. Then she suddenly remembered where she was: some musty tent in the middle of nowhere, hundreds of miles from home. She’d never felt so homesick in all of her life.
Russell was still talking. “Some think Russia was behind it. Others are pointing to an aggressive alliance between Russia, North Korea, Iran, perhaps even China.” He paused to gauge the effect his words might be having, then continued. “But their fingerprints are nowhere to be found. It could very well be an alliance between several South American countries that have strong anti-American leanings.” He punched the air sternly with his finger. “What does matter is that our government let these attacks happen.”
Mark rolled his eyes. “Sounds like 9/11 conspiracies all over again.”
James gave Mark a look and tried using a bit more tact. “I agree that it sounds a little absurd, but let's consider that the missiles might have been launched from the Atlantic. That would certainly make sense in regard to Georgia.”
Russell cut in. “Everything I'm telling you now has already been discussed on the radio and the news. These aren't some fringe theories I'm throwing out here,” he said, his feeble voice rising. “Before you discount any of it, ask yourselves this, why was the government unable to detect these aircraft carriers, and why were they unable to stop these missiles?”
“Budget cuts,” Mark answered. “Our military isn't what it used to be.”
“Open your eyes, you think it's some kind of miraculous stroke of luck that Washington D.C. wasn't hit? Our government is a key player. Just remember that the next time they try to get you and your family to go to some displaced FEMA 'shelter'.” Everyone grew nervously quiet.
“So where does that leave us now?” Christina asked, breaking the tension. “I'm expecting to meet my husband and two sons anytime today. They may need to stay the night here until we figure out what we're going to do.” Immediately, she realized she had spoken out of turn. The color drained from James’s face. “Is that all right? I'm not sure where else we'd go,” she said, recovering quickly from her blunder.
Russell was taken aback. He had no idea. James winced as he noticed the surprised expression on Russell’s face. But it was out there in the open and Russell knew that James had been less than honest or forthcoming.
“Your family?” Russell asked.
“That's right. They're on their way from Atlanta. At least, I hope they are. I'm praying for them.”
“Of course. All are welcome at Camp Liberty. We look forward to meeting them.” Russell grabbed his bowl and suddenly stood up. Kyle and Eli followed his lead. He looked back at James and his crew. “I want you guys to relax and get your heads together. We'll continue this later.” He then shifted his focus to Jacklyn and Sally, who were sitting further down the table. “Would you ladies mind showing them around the camp today?”
“We're on it,” Jacklyn said, not making eye contact.
“Good, thanks.” He began to make his way out of the tent, but not before stopping by James and leaning in. “We'll talk later,” he said. Then he left the tent with Kyle and Eli following.
Mark looked around at the group. “Well, I wasn't expecting to hear all of that. Guess I'm not surprised though. Are you guys buying it?”
“I'm going into town tonight,” James announced. Everyone looked at him, surprised.
“Tonight? When did you decide on this?” Christina asked.
“Yeah, thanks for keeping us in the loop,” Janice added.
James hunched over and spoke quietly to the group. “They asked me to accompany them on a supply run last night since I know the area so well. They have a working cargo truck. It's all very hush-hush.”
“Well, holy shit,” Mark said. “That's our ticket out of here.”
“No,” James said. “We're not thieves. They've taken us in and fed us, and we're not going down that road. We'd be no better than the men who tried to steal from us.”
Mark looked down in disappointment. “I wanna go on this supply run,” he said.
“It's only a small group of us. Just let me do it. I'll tell you guys everything that's really going on out there when I return.”
“But I--” Mark began.
“I'm sorry, Mark, they only asked for me.”
“What are we going to do today then?” Mark asked.
“We're going to find out all there is to know about this place,” James said. “We need to do a recon.”
“A what?” Janice asked.
“Reconnaissance. We need to do reconnaissance,” James stated.
“With two college girls who've only been here a week?” Mark asked.
“I trust them,” James said. “Don't you?”
After breakfast, James's crew was shown around by Sally and Jacklyn, eager to get some fresh air themselves. The forest beyond the walls seemed peaceful, especially when compared to the sound of gunfire ringing outside the camp. Sally swung her head around to put the group at ease over the startling noise.
“That's just Shane, Jeff, and the boys shooting guns at tree stumps,” she explained. “They think they're a couple of badasses now,” she said with a laugh.
“Yeah, you're dating a real Rambo there,” Jacklyn said.
“And you're dating the dishwasher,” Sally said, laughing even harder.
“Real funny. Danny is comfortable enough with his manhood. He doesn't have to pretend.”
“Danny just doesn't know how to fit in,” Sally said.
“With these freaks? Who cares?”
Sally and Jacklyn had gotten their color and health back during the past week. They looked like normal twenty-something college girls again. Sally had braided her long blonde hair into a ponytail. She wore a white long sleeve shirt and skinny blue jeans. Jacklyn's dark reddyed hair was tied up in a bun. She wore a green sweater, blue jeans, and hiking boots. They were dressed for the cool morning, but expected it to get hotter during the day.
Some of Russell's men were lined up at the pull-up bars near the obstacle course, heaving themselves up with strained breath. The sun peaked out over the trees, and birds were busily foraging for food. Morning dew glistened on the ground, and on the fallen leaves. It was very peaceful and lovely, but despite that
, many in the camp longed for their lives back in the city.
Christina was one of them. She was anxious about the arrival of Terrance and her sons. They would put her mind at ease. She rose to join the college girls, who were preparing to lead the way for the camp tour. James, Mark, and Paula followed. Paula wanted to go back to her room and lie down, but Christina insisted that she stay near. James overheard the girls’ banter about their friends training to be soldiers and was immediately inquisitive.
“If you don't mind me asking, what is this about becoming Rambo?” he asked.
“Oh, that nonsense,” Sally said, tossing the answer over her shoulder and still looking ahead. “Russell said that we all have to learn how to protect ourselves, and that it's a dangerous world out there and we should know 'defensive tactics' before we leave.”
“Is that so?” James said. “And when does your group plan to leave?”
Jacklyn answered before Sally could. “As soon as freaking possible,” she said.
“Then what's keeping you?” Mark asked.
“We didn't plan on staying this long, it just sort of happened,” Sally answered. “Besides, we came here in Shane's van, and he lost the keys a few days ago. Our phones don't work. We're pretty much stranded.”
“Shane thinks Chris stole the keys and left us here,” Jacklyn said. “But Danny thinks it's bullshit.”
“What do you girls think happened?” James asked.
“I don't know. I want to go home too, but Russell said it's not safe. He said we'll get eaten alive out there,” Sally said.
“Because we're so much safer here,” Jacklyn said, thick sarcasm evident.
“You guys should listen to Russell,” Sally said. “He's no dummy.”
“We heard plenty this morning,” Mark said.
“And you'll hear plenty more tonight,” Jacklyn said.
“Tonight?” Mark asked.
They reached the end of the cabins and turned a corner after observing the obstacle course.
End Days Super Boxset Page 196