by G. R. Carter
“That sounds about right. Lost my father in nearly the same way. So much for ‘no patient left behind,’ huh?” Oliver added.
With a nod Huffman said, “So that’s what I did. Got ready to die. Drafted my will, said goodbye to my ex-wife and kids, and settled in to wait for the end. I was accepted into a hospice organized by the local Lutheran Church. Only a handful of members left, but their mission was to help take care of those who no one else cared about.”
“They converted you when you were at your weakest.”
“No. Never once said anything to me about their faith. Didn’t ask for so much as a prayer…or a donation, if that’s what you’re going to ask next!” Huffman said.
Oliver was caught in mid-utterance by the joke. He quickly switched to a different challenge. “So then I suppose you’re going to tell me you all made it through the Reset unscathed, a miracle or something like that?”
“Hardly. Almost every single one of them were slain not long after everything fell apart.” Oliver stood shocked by the twist and Huffman’s matter-of-fact delivery. For the first time, he watched the man show a sign of his faith, crossing his chest as he fought back tears.
“Why didn’t God protect them?” Oliver asked.
“Because, Captain, they were too busy protecting me! God gave them a choice, and they chose His Way! They hid those too sick to flee…stashed us away in all sorts of spots. By the time they finished taking care of us, it was too late for them to get away.”
“Away from who?” Oliver asked.
“Can’t really tell you who they were. Just some mob out of St. Louis. Said they were headed south to warmer weather since there was no way to stay warm around here. Took everything of value, raped and killed everyone they could get their hands on. Including my angels, the ones who saved me,” Huffman said.
“I guess you blame ARK for sending those people here? We’re the devil and that’s why you hate us?”
“I don’t hate you, or your boss. See, Captain, I’ve come to believe in something real since that terrible time. I believe I’ve been wrong about religion, mine in particular. I thought talk of the end times, call it Tribulation or Rapture, was a lot of hocus-pocus. But I think we misunderstood what the Bible said about it,” Huffman replied.
“I apologize for my ignorance of your faith, but I don’t know much about the Rapture. Just a little from some movies as a kid,” Oliver admitted.
“Oh right. Sorry. A lot of Christians believed that at the start of the Tribulation (the end of the world, in simpler terms) would be the Rapture: believers would just disappear, be taken up to Heaven in the twinkling of an eye,” Huffman answered with a mocking motion skyward. “Then everyone else would be left behind to face war, disease…all that nasty stuff from Revelations. That’s the last book of the Bible. ‘Apocalyptic’ is what folks used to call it, apocryphal if they were up on their theology.”
“Sounds awful. For those left behind, I mean.”
“Right, more than you know.” Oliver noticed the smile was back, like Huffman was back to telling a story he was always happy to repeat. “I got to talking with a survivor from that church group, the one that helped me before the crazy days began. They made it through by accident, really. Took some older folks into a bank vault to hide because they thought no one could get in!”
Both men laughed at what seemed a ridiculous notion, separated from the terror of the time by so many years passed. Huffman continued. “Funny thing is, that mob didn’t even bother to check out the vault, figured it would already be looted. Which of course it had been. Anyway, after those demons took everything they wanted and left our town a smoldering wreck, the folks from the vault came and found me. I was hiding in a basement dumpster! Nursed me back to health. I had a lot of time to think and read and finally to pray, but on my own terms. My health took a remarkable turn for the better. Don’t misunderstand, I don’t think I was granted some miracle, though I wouldn’t argue it if someone else thought so.”
Huffman reached for Oliver’s good arm again, grabbing ahold while he peered into his eyes. “I came to believe something real during those days, Captain Liam Oliver,” he repeated. “I came to believe that the Rapture really did occur. I know now that good folks, kind folks, were taken to live with God. Believers like the ones who saved my life. See, what you call the Reset was our Tribulation. The righteous dead are the fortunate ones; they’ve already received their reward. People like you and me? We live with what happened before, during and since. That’s a burden we carry until we’re relieved of it. We need help to understand that. Some of God’s folks, call them angels if you wish, were left to teach survivors like us what humility really looks like.”
“So then what happens to the rest of us?” Oliver asked. “What are we supposed to do now?”
Huffman straightened himself again, clearing his voice. “We try every day to bring that message to the world. The message of a second chance…a chance to get right with God. To help your fellow man, not try to manipulate and conquer him like we all did before the Tribulation.”
“You’re saying ARK is trying to rule the world we know now?”
“I do say that! In fact, Captain, I can prove that. The people you are about to face can prove it, too. You’re going to speak at a place we call the Table. All of our leaders will be there, the ones we call the Electors.
“Please understand, they see you as a high-ranking officer of ARK, not as Liam Oliver the man. If we’re going to prevent all-out war between our two countries, they need to recognize the good man I see when I look into your eyes,” Huffman said.
Without another word, he offered the way up the stone sidewalk towards a large set of double doors.
Chapter Five
Mt. Horab Assembly Building
Year 12.09 AGR (After the Great Reset)
The Night after the Battle for Kaskaskia
The path was well lit, illuminated with actual flames burning behind smoky glass in tall lampposts. Oliver took a deep breath and led the way, watching as gray clad soldiers with the rose patch opened the doors in front of him. Trying to muster his best captain’s strut, he nodded to each of the men, finding himself in a long marble hallway. Rich real wood paneling extended to an ornately painted vault ceiling.
“We had to do some renovation after those gangs I told you about. They tried to burn this place down, just being ornery and evil. The Electors decided to make this our symbol of rebirth. ‘Born again,’ you might say,” Huffman whispered in his ear with a mischievous chuckle. Together they walked into a large meeting room, dominated by a rectangular maple-colored conference table. Oliver took a quick measure of the people who stood as he walked in. He was trying to get a handle on the makeup of the group when he realized they weren’t standing for him, but for Huffman. Every set of eyes locked on the Senior Elector, awaiting his acknowledgement. He made a walk around the table, shaking each person’s hand with a smile and quick word. Oliver noticed he acknowledged each guard also: some with a wink, others with a slap on the shoulder, always with a smile that was warmly reciprocated.
Huffman completed the circuit and returned to Oliver, offering him a seat of soft leather. The conference table was surrounded by chairs identical to his, clearly salvaged from a college meeting room or corporate boardroom, and everything in the tidy room seemed to be a perfect match. Paintings of heroic deeds filled the walls, mostly of what appeared to be 18th-century military engagements, and a few ancient-looking religious figures Oliver didn’t recognize. Huffman sat at the head of the table, just to Oliver’s right, while everyone else took their own seat just a fraction of a second behind their leader.
Trying not to make direct eye contact, but eager not to look down in shame, Oliver used his peripheral vision to gauge the people staring at him. He was surprised to see women at the table, and men of varied appearance. They were all dressed in a similar fashion to Huffman: dark-colored sport coats or dresses, white collared shirts. The men wore beards, but mos
t men did in the post-Reset world. He did notice all the ladies except one wore a delicate sort of covering over the crown of their head. Twelve people were seated all together including Huffman and himself. Most were about the same age with the youngest appearing early thirties and the rest topping perhaps mid-fifties. Older folks hadn’t made it through the past few years, not even in places that tried to keep them safe instead of regarding them as deadweight.
Any ARK Citizen he ever met in the City would have had fine jewelry, clothes, shoes and even makeup. And no respectable meeting room in the infamous City supper clubs was complete without bottles of bourbon and wine, and usually fine cigars as well. Oliver looked around the outside of this room: no drink tables or servers waiting on the Electors hand and foot. Just a few soldiers standing at loose attention, occasionally coming over to offer a glass of water to one of their leaders. His own fingers twitched, wishing for the reassuring company of his old pipe—for the first time since his capture he realized he didn’t have it.
“Brothers and sisters,” Huffman started. “I want to thank you all for leaving your homes to come to the Table at this late hour. Your dedication to the Elect is evident once again. You do God, your family and your people a great service.” Genuine smiles and nods were returned to Huffman. Everyone seemed to lean in a little closer now. Clearly Oliver’s presence was a huge deal and they wanted information.
“As you were all briefed this afternoon, a tragic incident took place on the river. Apparently a misunderstanding between our brave men and women and a squadron of ARK ships led by Captain Oliver here,” Huffman said. He sensed Oliver’s tension, then corrected himself. “That’s right, I’m sorry, Captain Oliver, you were second-in-command to Captain, uh, Mason, is that correct?”
“Yes, Elector Huffman,” Oliver replied in his most compliant tone. “We were a couple of miles apart but on the same mission.”
“Thank you, Captain. Again, I’d like to express regret that your Captain Mason perished in the incident, may God have mercy on his soul,” Huffman said while crossing himself, an act replicated by everyone else in the room.
“I also lost three men aboard my own boat, Elector Huffman.”
“My God have mercy on their souls,” the entire room said in unison, once again crossing themselves.
“And one of ours will not make it through the night, Captain Oliver. Do you also mourn for him? Or for his pregnant wife? Or for his unborn child who will never know the brave man his father was?” The voice came from the end of the Table, one of the younger-looking men who seemed uncomfortable in his coat and button-down shirt. Oliver recognized the eyes. The man was, or had been, a soldier, someone who had seen the horrors of close combat and didn’t wish to again. Not like some who lived for the noise and chaos; that was a different set of eyes all together.
“Captain Oliver, I’d like to introduce you to Elector John Bolin. Elector Bolin, I was going to wait a little to begin questioning. But one of your gifts is the ability to get to the point,” Huffman replied with a tired smile. “I suppose this is the 800-pound gorilla in the room, isn’t it? You’d all like to know why this incident happened, from Captain Oliver’s point of view.”
Bolin nodded and Huffman turned to wave in someone from the back corner of the room, a man Oliver hadn’t noticed until just now. The Electors stood as the mystery man walked to the Table. He was tall, at least six foot or a little more. The athletic build said he was a soldier of some kind, but the face said he was a leader even though he appeared younger than most in the room. He had a crisp uniform, a sort of leaf and stalk camouflage pattern immediately recognizable to anyone in this part of the world: the markings of the Red Hawk Republic. Silver wings on the lapel told another story, as did the bright red hawk symbol on the opposite side. He was a pilot, one of the Raptor or Talon drivers who were the envy of any ground-bound serviceman, even those who loved the water. The only thing Oliver didn’t recognize was the green and silver cord wrapping around his left shoulder.
“Captain Oliver, my name is Samuel Hamilton. I am the commander of the air forces of the Red Hawk Republic and brother to the Founder of the Republic Alex Hamilton.” Oliver gulped a little and nodded.
Hamilton relaxed his face into a smile. “Please be at ease, Captain. I was here on other business so Elector Huffman gave me the honor of joining these fine men and women at the Table.” Just like everyone in ARK, Oliver had heard stories about the Hamilton brothers but never dreamed he would meet either of them. The post-Reset world was much smaller than the old one, but while that meant you were more likely to meet your own leader, the lack of communication and transportation meant it was highly unlikely to meet many people from outside your walls. Today, Oliver had managed to meet leaders of two sovereign nations.
Hamilton continued. “Elector Huffman asked me to sit in and act as your advocate, a counsel, let’s say. Because the Republic is allied to both Mt. Horab and to ARK, he hoped that I would be witness to a fair and open fact finding process. Do you agree to participate in such a process, Captain?”
“Do I have a choice?” Oliver asked.
Murmurs and chuckles broke the ice of the room. “I’m afraid you don’t in this instance,” Sam said warmly. “But I can make note of your objection if you wish. Mt. Horab is an old and dear friend of the Republic. But they are still an independent people. Alex and I can merely make requests; the Electors will make their own decisions.”
“I have nothing to hide, Mr. Hamilton. I will answer any and all questions to the best of my ability,” Oliver replied.
“I suspected as much, Captain. You strike me as a man of honor. I understand you thought first of your men this afternoon, and that tells me a lot. I’ll be standing right over here in the corner, I’ll only interject on your request or on Elector Huffman’s,” he said, then stepped back to his original spot.
Oliver sighed, trying to exhale the tempest churning in his stomach. This morning had started so simple. A straightforward mission to scare some bad guys off of ARK’s river. Now he sat in front of a group of people who looked at him as the devil incarnate. And apparently he was in so much trouble he needed a member of the ruling family of the most powerful country in the known world to look after his interests. This was going to be a long night.
*****
Through the night, the statements and questions kept repeating, but each person at the Elector’s Table seemed to be required to have their say. Some were friendlier to him than others.
“The question on the table is: why did your men open fire on our ships, Captain?” Elector John Bolin asked again.
“I gave the order, Elector. I believed we had spotted pirates. The same ones who had attacked our settlement in Prairie de Rocher. It never crossed my mind someone else would be there,” Oliver answered. He watched a couple of the Electors look at each other. They didn’t know we had a settlement there. I’ve got to watch my mouth, he scolded himself.
“Is it the belief of ARK that they own the entire South Flow?” one of the female Electors asked.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, what do you mean by ‘South Flow?’”
“The river system, Captain. The big river and all of her tributaries. Has ARK now declared itself to be sovereign of the shipping lanes?” she clarified.
Oliver paused, still hesitant from releasing information on the settlement. “I can’t speak for ARK leadership, ma’am. As one of your soldiers told me this afternoon, that’s above my pay grade. But my orders have been to rid the river systems of all pirates and outlaws. I believe such a task benefits all civilized folks.”
“So either pirates or ARK, nothing in between?” Bolin asked. “The only activity on the river is nefarious?”
“I don’t take your meaning, Elector Bolin.”
“Did it ever cross your mind that someone else may be using the river to make a living? Say, a family that can’t find safety on land because of Ditchers, so takes to the water to fish and live? Are they pirates?”
&n
bsp; “I would say no, sir. But I’ve never come across such a situation.”
“How long have you been on this part of the river, Captain?”
“Only a couple of weeks, sir. My crew and I have been north of the City—ARK City, I mean—up as far as Hannibal doing the same work. That area is essentially pacified, so we were sent down south to join Captain Mason and continue his work.”
“You might be going back north soon,” Huffman broke in, with a concerned glance over at Hamilton who simply nodded. Oliver didn’t know what to make of the comment, but assumed it couldn’t be good.
“Am I to believe that you had no knowledge that Captain Mason’s ship and others have destroyed several settlements of independent people? Settlements that wouldn’t cede to ARK rules? Settlements like the one at Prairie de Rocher, which was wiped out to make room for yours?” Bolin said, his voice rising with each word until booming throughout the room.
Oliver found himself speechless, jaw open at the accusation. For the first time since the questioning began, Sam Hamilton stepped up to the table. “Elector Bolin, we just uncovered these accusations less than a week ago. I’m not saying I don’t believe it, but can we wait for the Diamantes to make a formal reply to our request?”
“Commandant Hamilton. You and Alex are our oldest and dearest friends. Without the help of the Republic, Mt. Horab wouldn’t be here today,” Huffman cut in. “But I fear your relationship with ARK clouds your vision of what they are capable of.”
“What do you mean, Elector Huffman? What are you suggesting?” Hamilton asked.
“Come now, Sam,” Huffman said, dropping formalities. “You know what their family was before the Tribulation.”
Oliver felt himself edge up on his seat. Rumors had always swirled about who and what the Diamante family were before the electronic world failed. It was considered very bad manners to talk about it in ARK circles, as though history had begun on the day of the Reset. He got the impression there were about to be some serious secrets revealed.