by J. G. Martin
“Augie, I’m busy. What do you want?” The general demanded.
“We have discovered something of value may have been hidden in Mammoth Cave, and we wanted your help to retrieve it.” Augie informed him casually.
“I’m listening, but you know that’s occupied territory right now.”
“I know you probably have partisans in the area who could guide us.”
“Even if I do, what’s in it for us?” General Hall demanded.
“You make sure the U.S.T.G. doesn’t get it and use it against you.” Augie pointed out.
“If they knew it was there, they would have already taken it.” General Hall argued. “What’s really in there and why do you want it so bad?”
“They may not know it’s there yet, but it’s only a matter of time.” Augie disagreed. “We need to get it before they do. We can use it to help everyone, but they will certainly keep it for themselves.”
“What. Is. It?” General Hall said impatiently.
“It’s the ARK.” Rora interrupted. “An advanced version of the Doomsday vault that could bring back all the lost plants and animals and renew the Earth.”
“Huh.” General Hall said after a long pause. “What are your plans for this ark?”
“We plan to share it with the world as long as they agree to peace.” Rora said idealistically.
“What if everyone doesn’t want peace, young lady?” The General asked pointedly.
“Then we entice those who do to work together to fight against those that don’t.” Derek added.
“I see.” The general said thoughtfully. “I might be able to help you, but I need help with something first.”
“Of course, name it.” Augie responded.
“I need Major Storm to carry out a mission for us.” General Hall said slowly.
“Who do I have to kill now?” Derek demanded sarcastically.
General Hall smiled. “Now, now. Be proud of the fact that your skills are always in demand.” He said chidingly to Derek. “It’s when no one needs your skills that you have a problem.”
“I don’t think that’s likely any time soon.” Derek replied, shaking his head.
“True, very true.” General Hall agreed.
“What’s the mission?” Rora interjected.
“We are barely holding the line at Bowling Green and the U.S.T.G. is adding more and more troops every day. We need every able bodied soldier there. But we are tied down with the sieges of Huntsville and Pensacola. We probably won’t be able to wrap those up before Bowling Green falls, but we have other troops scattered about protecting our borders. If those troops were freed up, we could use them to cover our eventual retreat to Nashville. Every day we delay the U.S.T.G. offensive means more soldiers finishing training and reinforcing Nashville.” General Hall explained. “But currently our main distraction is the Reapers.”
“The Reapers?” Derek interrupted. “How are they a threat? The southern tribes’ numbers were greatly shrunk after the battle outside NASA and the northern tribes don’t raid anywhere near your territory.”
“They didn’t, but the U.S.T.G. has convinced them to start. They sent “advisors” to guide the Reapers and to arm them. They are trading weapons and ammunition and even light armored vehicles in exchange for raids against our easternmost towns.” The general explained. “Normally, they don’t pose too much of a threat. But if the U.S.T.G. ‘advisors’ get them organized and well-armed, they would pose a serious threat.”
“How do you propose we stop that?” Derek asked.
“We have identified the commander of the ‘advisors’ and where he is located. We want you to lead a small team to take him out.” General Hall explained. “Once he is removed, the alliance should fall apart.”
“Wouldn’t they just replace him?” Rora questioned.
“Maybe, but he has a unique bond with those cannibals. His relationship with them would be hard to recreate.” The general replied.
“If we do this, you will have partisans take us into Mammoth Cave?” Derek pressed.
“Absolutely.” General Hall agreed.
“Okay, what are the details?” Derek said resignedly.
“Gray, come fill them in.” General Hall said gesturing off screen.
The captain who had interrogated them at the roadhouse in Pelham moved into view. “Major, nice to see you again.”
“And you Captain.” Derek replied with a smile.
“It’s Major now.” Gray pointed out, flicking the gold oak leaves on his uniform.
“Congratulations.” Derek said with a nod.
“Thank you. The promotion means I’m now in charge of the eastern theater, lucky me.” Major Gray said in a slightly sarcastic tone. “Things were quiet until this man showed up three months ago.”
A popup on the screen appeared showing an older man wearing an old style camo jacket over a green sweater. He had several scars on his face and his expression bordered on maniacal. His dark eyes contrasted with his long gray hair and beard. The whole effect gave him a serious serial killer vibe.
“Jasper Carlton.” Derek said disgustedly.
“That is correct. At first we didn’t know who he was and we assumed he was just another scumbag who liked killing and raiding and wanted to join up with the Reapers. We didn’t really pay much attention to him unfortunately.” Major Gray informed them. “But he was soon joined by several others who appeared to take orders from him directly. That small group started showing up more and more frequently on raids and then in the company of the tribal chiefs. That was when we began to pay more attention to them. But by then, it was too late. He had already cemented his relationship with the chiefs. Going back over reports he apparently did it by becoming worse than any of them. He was the most brutal on raids and he joined them in their…feasts.”
“He didn’t become worse than them” Derek interjected. “He was already a grade A sociopath before he joined the Reapers. He was nearly court martialed five times for extreme brutality and civilian casualties, but every time the witnesses against him disappeared. He is an excellent soldier and a dangerous enemy, especially since he is completely without morals. There is no line he won’t cross.”
“He also leads a small group of likeminded men.” Major Gray added. “These two are his immediate subordinates and the worst of the bunch. There are four others but we haven’t been able to ID them yet.”
Two pictures popped onto the screen. Both men were younger, late twenties or early thirties. Other than that they were like polar opposites. The man on the left was smaller and black, and very handsome. His eyes gleamed with intelligence and malice He wore a black jacket over a white Henley and wore blue jeans tucked into combat boots. The man on the right was very large and white. His eyes displayed piggish sadisticness and his faced displayed the marks of a chronic brawler. His nose had been broken numerous times and he had scarring over his eyes. He wore a desert camo jacket over a black shirt and had tan cargo pants tucked into combat boots.
“Lieutenant Aaron Hartnett and Sergeant Rick McKay.” Major Gray narrated. “Red Berets like Captain Carlton. They have a long service record, both entering the Army at eighteen. Hartnett is a champion MMA fighter from Chicago also known to be good with a knife. McKay is a body builder, alleged steroid abuser, and well known psychopath. He has beaten six men to death in the last two years alone.”
“How is he allowed to serve in the military?” Rora asked in shock.
“Captain Carlton got him off each time, and McKay is fanatically loyal to him.” Major Gray explained. “He managed to convince the U.S.T.G. brass that McKay had valuable skills they needed. This crew had been assigned some of the worst missions in terms of how far they needed to go to complete them successfully. They are like rabid dogs held back until needed, and then unleashed without any hesitation or concern for the collateral damage. The U.S.T.G. wants to open a second front and they have really riled up the Reapers to the point that we believe that a major attack is imm
inent. We need to end this threat before it can really get going.”
“The U.S.T.G. has always been about results.” Augie added. “They don’t care about the little people that might get in their way.”
“Where do we need to go to get this done?” Derek asked impatiently. “I think I might actually enjoy this.”
“Major Gray will send you the location and then meet you there. Good luck.” General Hall informed them before ending the internet chat.
Chapter 33
September 10, 2029
Military Prison Near Joliet, Illinois
The last time Tom had been this frustrated was when his football team had lost the championship game. He had been so angry that he was shaking with rage and Roberts had actually been afraid to even be near him. They had arrived in Kansas City to find Storm had been there and already gone. He and the girl had posed as GIA agents on a black op transporting a prisoner. And the idiots at the garrison had not only believed them, they had given them a helicopter no questions asked.
But they had no problems following orders and arresting Tom and Private Roberts once they had gotten back in contact with command. Tom was being charged with dereliction of duty for failure to keep the hacker and the loss of virtually his entire squad, as well as treason. Apparently some of the brass believed he was colluding with Storm. He and Roberts had been transported back to Joliet and put in the military prison near HQ.
The two of them had been separated and Tom had been stuck into a small cell. Masked interrogators had come for him shortly after arrival. He had been subjected to what they called enhanced interrogation. He was stripped of his clothes, subjected to ice water baths, water boarded, and a myriad of other techniques designed to break him. Unfortunately for his interrogators, he had been trained to resist such techniques and he had previously been interrogated in a similar manner.
The process only made him more resolute and angrier. Sometime during the first day Tom had reached an almost zen level of anger. He had become so angry that he became incredibly calm. Nothing they did seemed to faze him and he became completely non responsive and reactionless. No matter what happened he didn’t make a noise and he maintained a completely blank expression. After two days of this, they dressed him in his uniform and took him to a small interrogation room. He was shackled to the floor and placed on a chair at a small table. A solitary chair sat empty across from him. An interrogator came and hooked him up to a lie detector. Two MPs stood guard behind him at all times.
Interrogators came and went. They tried good cop, then bad cop, then worse cop. None of it elicited any response from Tom. Finally, after hours of this, General Ross came in to talk to him. The general sat down slowly and smiled at him. He regarded Tom in silence for a few minutes and then spoke.
“My people tell me you haven’t spoken since they brought you in.” General Ross stated questioningly.
Tom remained silent. He was furious at the man he had regarded so highly, but who had betrayed him. Tom had been utterly loyal to the U.S.T.G. and to General Ross. He had risked his life over and over to try to please them, but that wasn’t good enough apparently. He had watched his troops die in vain in futile attempts to stop Storm. Their lives had just been thrown away, and their ultimate sacrifice meant nothing.
“You need to talk to me Tom.” The general insisted. “I’m your last hope of getting a reduced punishment. Right now they are going to send you to the Abyss if you don’t give up anything.”
Unfortunately there was nothing to give up. Tom wasn’t a traitor and he had done everything he could to try to succeed. Storm was exceedingly skillful and well equipped and he had a lot of outside help. He still couldn’t figure out how Storm jammed them in the Everglades and spotted them in Colorado. The U.S.T.G. just hadn’t given him enough resources to defeat Storm. If they gave him enough troops he could launch an attack on NASA and root out Storm and that annoying girl. But that wasn’t going to happen. They were going to bury him and his failure in a deep dark hole. So he wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of cracking.
“Tom, please give me something, anything.” General Ross pleaded. “Maybe I can still get you a discharge and a job in one of the factories.”
That was worse than death as far as Tom was concerned. He had given everything to become a Red beret and the commander of Zeta Force. It was who he was, not just what he did. He had prided himself on being the swift hand of retribution for the U.S.T.G. His parents had been so proud of him and his position. One of the interrogators had told him his parents had disowned him and denied his existence. He knew that was mostly to stay in the Party’s good graces, but it still hurt.
The government was systematically stripping away everything he had or was. They thought they could break him, but he was stronger than that. He had been loyal to them, but they were proving that the loyalty had been a one way street. It was almost freeing in a way. All his adult life he had been conditioned to believe that the government knew what was best and was always right, and to not question his superiors or the government’s authority. But he knew what they were doing to him was wrong, so it meant they were fallible; that maybe he should have been questioning their authority all along. Maybe he should have doubted the purpose they had given him, but it had defined him.
Now he had no purpose, only rage. He needed to fill that hole with something. He needed a new purpose. At that moment he decided his new purpose would be to tear down the existing order. He didn’t want to replace it with anything, he just wanted to see it burn. His newly renewed sense of purpose gave him even more strength and he stared intently at General Ross until the general gave up and left.
“What a waste.” General Ross muttered as he left.
Tom but back the angry retort he wanted to make and waited patiently to be returned to his cell. Before he was returned, the MPs had a shift change. As the second MP was leaving he bumped against Tom and slipped him something. From the feel of it, it was a handcuff key. The MP then murmured “I five” as he left. The other MP didn’t seem to notice and left without a word.
Two new MPs came in and took up their positions behind him. He tried to decide what the message meant and what was happening. It was likely that I-5 was in reference to room five in the infirmary. Tom had already spent some time there when his interrogators had pushed his body too far. But what was waiting there for him, and could he get there even if he escaped his cuffs?
Was this a trap? Had the government had decided to have him killed during an escape so they could be spared any further embarrassment? Or was someone trying to help him escape? Who would want him out? The only faction that was opposing the government was the rebels, the self-styled “Sons of Liberty”. He doubted that they would want to help someone like him, someone who had many of their comrades’ blood on his hands. Although it was possible that turning him to their side would be considered a huge coup.
He finally decided it didn’t matter. If he did nothing he was going to be thrown into a deep dark hole from which no one returned. At least this gave him a chance to get free and do some damage. There was even a small possibility he could actually escape. He palmed the key and waited for his opportunity. Maybe he could unlock himself during the transfer and get a weapon from one of the MPs.
The opportunity came quicker than expected. Before he could be transferred, the power suddenly failed; blanketing the room in almost complete darkness. Tom knew this couldn’t be a coincidence; the prison had been built after the Collapse and had a dedicated power plant as well as backup generators. For all of them to fail simultaneously couldn’t be coincidence, it was deliberate sabotage. He sprang into action.
In the time it took for the emergency lights to come on, Tom had escaped his shackles. He leapt to his feet and grabbed the surprised guard behind him to his right by the head and slammed it down onto the small steel table. Blood flew as the man’s face was smashed in and he was knocked unconscious. Without slowing, Tom kicked the other MP in the groin as
hard as he could. He smiled vengefully as the man squealed in pain and crumpled to the ground. There was no hesitation as he grabbed the man and then snapped his neck.
Once, the thought of killing a fellow soldier would have been impossible to even consider. But they had abandoned him and he no longer felt any allegiance or tie to the U.S.T.G. military or its government overlords. He snapped the unconscious MP’s neck just because he felt like it. It felt good to exact a little payback, and to be in control once again. He walked to the door and glanced out the small window. The dimly lit hallway was empty.
Returning to the second MP, Tom stripped off his uniform and quickly pulled it on. It didn’t fit perfectly, but it would be enough of a disguise to fool anyone who didn’t look to close. He also strapped on the MP’s belt and checked the gear on it. The belt contained a can of pepper spray, a wooden security baton, cuffs, and a radio. He grabbed the radio and changed the channels to see if he could get anything.
Everything except the emergency channel was dead. That channel must have its own power supply. When he turned to that channel, panicked yelling and screaming flooded the room. It sounded like the other guards had their hands full with rioting prisoners. They would hopefully be too busy to pay attention to him.
Tom tried the door and it swung open. The prison doors worked largely on magnetic locks that were controlled from the main control room. But when the power went out, all of the locks automatically disengaged. It was a safety feature to prevent people from being trapped if the power failed. That explained the severity of the riot, all of the prisoners had been let out; and they probably had a bone to pick with the guards.
The hallways in the interrogation wing were mostly empty as Tom made his way to the infirmary. He only encountered a few MPs frantically running towards the cell blocks. He got a couple of odd looks, but he cradled his arm as though it was broken and faked a limp. It must have worked because none of the other MPs stopped to confront him. All the interior doors were unlocked and he had no difficulty reaching the infirmary.