by D. Henbane
It all felt alien to me. I was just doing my job, following orders, and watching out for the ones who were watching out for me. It seemed symbiotic at the time, but as the fancy dinners and photo ops began to stack up. The feeling changed. It began to feel parasitic. My brothers did what I would have done, hell, any of us would have done, given the circumstances.
That wasn't enough for them. They needed a hero, a poster child of success, a positive story to spin to the masses, and for whatever reason they chose me. They were right, because I ate it up, and fell head over heels. Basking in my new found glory, praise that I wanted, and deliriously thought at the time I deserved. I followed the status quo, never questioning, further marching down the path.
Then there was the first funeral. We had only been home for a few months, just starting to settle back into civilian life, and the news came as a total shock. Sure, we had buried many during those dark times, but they were casualties of war, decisions that were above us. I attended every one of those funerals, honored my fallen friends, many of which shared bonds that would rival the closest family ties. This funeral was different. This wasn't an act of war. This wasn't an order; it was self inflicted, and the first of many to come.
Most of it is a blur, but there was plenty of sensation about the war hero paying tribute to his fallen brother. The media licked it up like hungry kittens at a milk saucer. The only thing I can take away from that memory is Stephanie. The now widow at age 27. Walking up to me, and handing me a crinkled piece of paper, she pressed it into my hands, and offered a confused look. She had no idea what those hastily scribbled words meant.
I knew all too well. Isaac, now being lowered into the cold earth, had sent me a message. I read the words, and those very words have haunted me every day of my life. You promised. That was a turning point, and the time the secondary plan had started. They wouldn't allow for chivalry, or promises whispered as one person clung to the final strands of dignity.
They had a plan, and it was in my best interest to follow it. I tried to fight at first, but they knew me, and had ample reasons to continue the status quo. They knew. They knew everything. I had tried to act surprised, when Theresa told me I was going to be a father, a moment that should have been a celebratory moment, was just another bargaining chip.
Keep going up in rank they told me, the nation needs a man like you, the people need you, and your new family needs you. Someone has to protect them they said, the truth of our deeds must never be told, and at the time, hell, I still believe in a weird way that they were right. Not in a sense that they were correct, or that is was even moral, but it was right at the time.
I still will not betray the many oaths that I took, the promises I made over those years, because even now I still need to protect you all. Some things are just better off not being known, but I will be truthful to everything that involves you.
“You can't even tell the whole truth now? Why even waste our time then?” Eve objected. Her face filled with intensity, a fire burning deep inside her gut, the urge to rip his arm off and beat him with it crossed her mind. Eve started to stand, but Alex's hand reached out, and guided her back into her seat.
“He's right. You are all upset, and rightfully so. For just a minute, flip this situation around, and look at it from his perspective. See the world from his eyes. He did what he needed to do, not what he wanted to do, and the entire time he was looking after each and every one of us. It is something that a civilian has a hard time understanding, because they are so sheltered and taken care of. I struggled with it myself, I hated him, I loathed the man that I was supposed to call father in my younger years.
Then I spent my own time doing things that were not exactly right, but were necessary, and it opened my eyes. I was put in a situation, where my decisions, actions, and thoughts affected not only myself but the very lives of the people around me. I was trusted with an immense responsibility, expected to follow through, and in that moment of clarity I understood. I truly understood. What he had been trying to teach me for years.
It isn't about killing people, or dropping bombs, it was about making cold calculated decisions, that shed the least amount of blood to accomplish the goal. The goal is survival. Not world domination, or whatever political party wanted to measure the size of their collective penises. A veil has been placed on your eyes from birth, a carefully guarded dream world assembled, and maintained by those willing to sacrifice anything.
The sheltered population worry themselves about things like deadlines, meetings, and soccer games because they have been awarded that privilege; a privilege that they squander, take advantage of, and never think twice about. That privilege had a cost, a bill, and it was paid in full with blood. By a total stranger, likely you will never hear the names, but the debt was paid on your behalf.
I was only given a small rock to carry on my shoulders, it took everything I had in me to keep it together, and I barely made it work. The man standing before you is Atlas, and quite literally carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. The least you can do is hear the man out.” Alex said.
Theresa bit her lip, trying to fight back the tears, moved not only by her son's words, but the heart filled conviction of it. She felt like an outsider once again, Reese had let her into the inner circle just a few minutes before, and told her everything. Her love and her son shared a bond, a bond that she could never have. A private club house, reserved for the strong, and she was blessed with a chance appearance on the guest list. Reese gave a nod to his son, a solemn bow of understanding, an acknowledgment that they were no longer Father and Son, but brothers.
Reese explained everything. This time just a straight forward sequence of events, no time for sentimental recollection, just hard cold facts. He explained how Omega Phi was created shortly after Vietnam, which he referred to simply as The War. He talked about the mounting tensions between the US and Russia, the need to stay ahead of the game, technology, research, and advancements to further their cause.
He told his experience about being held captive during the war, the promises he made with the few remaining men of his unit, and for the first time in many years Theresa watched her husband weep. They were not tears of happiness, but long suppressed sorrow, and she hugged him during those difficult times.
He talked about Issac, Benjamin, Schlitz, David, and Dale. The men from his unit. Each one had a story, loved ones, a history, the promises made and kept. When Reese began speaking about Bennie, Eve completely lost it, that was her father's name, and now she was hearing firsthand about the actions of the man she called daddy.
The memories flickered in her mind, subtle clues now forming concrete revelations, and filling in the gaps of questions. Her father had loved her; done everything he could to protect her, even enlisting the help of Reese, with his massive power and contacts to ensure she had a good life. Reese had kept his word, and she now learned had dipped into his own personal savings to pay for her nursing degree.
Reese held a special bond with Bennie, as he affectionately called him. They weren't just battle brothers, the connection went deeper than that, they were like fraternal twins, identical in every sense of the word, but they looked very different. At the same time each operated on an isolated signal, accessible only by themselves, and when they were in each other's presence, people could feel it. It might not have been a biological bond, but it certainly was there at a cosmic level.
Talking about Bennies accident simultaneously choked up Eve and Reese. The despair poured out from them, seemingly blending in the middle, an invisible puddle forming at their feet, a coalescent sludge of understanding. Eve understood at that moment why she loved Reese. Not a love like two lovers, but a love between a father and daughter.
Reese was not her father, but she understood him. They were two cogs, cast from the same mold, they felt the same feelings. If her father had a choice, to name his successor, it would have been Reese. He had made that decision, and he chose Reese. Eve understood that now.
The one thing they would have disagreed on was Trixie. They had argued about this before, as told by Reese himself. Reese didn't like her, and Ben dismissed it, another topic that would have been talked about over drinks at the party, her birthday party, the party that never happen. Instead there was a phone call, that phone call turned her world upside-down. The day Daddy was gone.
Had Reese left his confession at that, his relationship with Eve could have been saved, but he had more confessions to reveal. Reese spoke about the events leading up to the death of Trixie. Alex backed up his story, with his firsthand account, but it was all too much for Eve. It slightly vindicated Alex, he hadn't pulled the trigger after all, but that son of a bitch Reese murdered her mother. Not directly, but through the cold murdering hands of Amos.
Knowing the truth was worse than what she wanted to believe. Eve slapped Reese before locking herself in one of the bedrooms her eyes an ever flowing river of tears. Reese didn't react, he deserved it, he knew that, and how could he blame her? He knew the monster that resided inside him, he had come to accept it over the years, and there was no changing the past.
***
Eve woke late that night, thrust back into reality by a nightmare. No. It wasn't a nightmare; it was real, just a rehashing of the last few months unfolding in her head. She wasn't sure what to do next, but she sure as hell wasn't going to stay here. Spending another day with Reese would just be psychological torture, every moment driving her further into sadness and depression.
Eve quietly stepped out of the bedroom; the full moon beaming in from the windows was enough to illuminate the house, well if you could call it a house. More like a bunker than a home. She walked to the front door, looked down and noticed the black bags Reese had brought inside.
Reese was too busy trying to come clean, and do his best to save his ass to put them away. She opened one, the moon light shined off the shiny weapons inside, and she heard a small clang of metal contacting metal. She picked one of the hand guns up, the cold steel chilling her fingers, and a thought crossed into her mind.
She quickly dismissed it. There had been enough blood, enough killing, to last many lifetimes. She was done with that, and thought it would be better to let Reese suffer every night with the haunting dreams that he must have. Or at least she thought he would have them. There must be a shred of human left in him, one that feels the need to atone for the sins he has committed. It must exist, even if only in his subconscious, unlocked every night when his eye lids drooped into sleep. Sweet dreams fucker!
She placed the gun back into the bag, grabbed a few MRE's from the pantry, and a gallon jug of water. She zipped up the bag slowly, to avoid waking anyone, and picked up a set of keys resting on the counter. A silver cat like animal was posed in a leaping position just above the word Jaguar.
***
The chilly night air tugged at her burgundy hair, small strands of it flapping around outside of the cracked window of the luxury car, she occasionally brushed them back inside as she flipped the ashes of her Dunhill cigarette out the window. She had found the smokes in the center console, along with a gold Zippo, and she grateful for anything to help her take the edge off the pain.
Reese was a man of luxury, he had enjoyed the perks of the upper tiers of the pay scale, but now she was enjoying them. The heated leather seats were a welcomed comfort as well, she wasn't sure if it was actually that cold outside, or if she was just cold inside. Her heart was a frigid block of hate, anger, and anguish.
She smashed the Dunhill into the ash tray and promptly lit another one up. She gave the accelerator a good shove from her foot, the car downshifted, and she let out a scream. She increased its intensity, matching in rhythm with the sounds of the winding engine. “AAAAHHHHH!” The car shifted once again, the speedometer buried itself well past 120, and she began to cry again.
She hit the brakes, the car skidded to a stop, the sudden jerk whipped her hair forward, and stood with both hands on the steering wheel, cigarette dangling from her lips, and grunting heavily. She looked like a mad woman, her eyes blood shot, teeth clenched, in a trance like state of disbelief. She hoped for something, anything to take away the pain, to end this nonstop roller coaster of pain that she called her life. Then she saw something.
A single person, walking haphazardly, was dragging his foot behind him. His shirt covered in blood, dirt, and sweat stains. He was about 50 yards away and coming closer, as fast as his ravaged body could carry him. Eve placed the Jaguar in park, extinguished the Dunhill in the ashtray and opened the driver's door.
“Come and get me fucker!” Eve screamed out into the night, her arms raised up in surrender, the shadow of her body stretched out in front of the cars headlights. She heard a moan, and the man increased his awkward gait; stumbling even more frequently as he stretched one arm out grabbing at the open air. Eve watched curiously at the former human advancing toward her.
She wondered what it felt like, how her mother felt when the infection took hold. Did it hurt? Did it take away the pain? Could it possibly even feel good? She wasn't sure about the answers, but she was about to find out. The man was getting very close now, only about 10 feet away, his mouth snapping, snarling, and drool running down his chin, like a rabid dog.
Just before the man closed in the last few feet, a gun shot rang out, his head exploded into a vaporized cloud of blood, bone, and brains. The sound of the shot made Eve's ears ring, she heard the sound of the man's body hit the ground as she turned around to see the barrel of a gun only a few feet away from her face. Smoke curled out from the end, its shiny metal glistened like a jewel in the moon light, fear gripped her body and then she saw his face. It was Alex.
Chapter Twenty Five
A Stranger Comes a Calling
Life was getting better, almost normal since they arrived at Rednek's farm, especially for Haus the concussions symptoms lessened, only a mild headache remained. Amy had proven to be very useful, no doubt her rural upbringing being the reason, as she helped do chores and cook food. Haus was learning to deal with the midday heat and the unrelenting humidity in the southern air.
Eicca was out in the garden as usual; Amy only few feet away from her pulling weeds, the two talked like old friends and giggled occasionally. Haus was obsessed with finding out how the world was holding up, and Rednek was doing his best to keep the Ham radio working. It wasn't fancy, a jumbled mess of electronic components and wires that Rednek had built years ago as a hobby.
Haus placed another red tack into the map; it was wrinkled, and torn in spots as he heard the desperate pleas echoing over the speaker. Haus shook his head, a feeling of anguish over coming him as the voice on the other end stopped broadcasting. He couldn't help but remember the uneasiness he felt back at the mine, and how Cox had tried to calm his fears insisting that the virus was harmless. Oh how wrong they had been, all of them, each one played a part in creating this nightmare.
“A total cluster fuck is what is Rednek.” Haus said as he paced around the enclosed front porch of Rednek's home. The porch had no windows, just screens to shield the occupants from the many insects. Haus was partly glad for this; enclosing it any further would just trap the sweltering heat even more.
“It be bad fo' sure.” Rednek replied. Haus wiped the sweat from his forehead and bit at his lip.
“What is this area Rednek?” Haus asked as he pointed to a green tack on the map.
“Nickajack trading post. Green means safe.” Rednek replied.
“Not much green on this map.” Haus said.
“Not much left.” Rednek replied. He turned his wrist over, looked down at his watch, it read 11:59 AM. “News time.” Rednek said as he twisted the frequency dial, over shooting his target slightly, then dialing it back. The speaker came to life with the sound of music, overly patriotic sounding, the kind you would expect to hear at a military parade of a communist country. The music suddenly stopped, and the deep confident voice of a male began to speak.
Gre
etings survivors. I hope this broadcast finds you in good health. The dark days are shortening, the battles are far from over, but we will prevail. Stay true to your course. Victory is imminent. Now, an update from Uncle Tobi, our great father; ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Tobias Krupke.
My dear brethren. As you all are aware now, the united states government overstepped its authority, their treachery knows no bounds, and will stop at nothing until every single man, woman, and child has been euthanized. They have unleashed their nuclear arsenal, decimating our cities, killing millions of innocent people. All of those actions, where hastily employed, acted upon without deliberation, or any kind of planning.
They have violated our sacred constitution, burned our glorious civilization to the ground, ignored our rights, and persecuted the weak. They seek nothing more than personal gain for their efforts, and you have seen firsthand the results. Unlike our former governing structure, we decided to address this situation, just as it is; an epidemic.
Rather than enact a scorched Earth policy of death, we chose to tap into the most brilliant scientific minds in the world, and tackle this problem with the least amount of innocent lives lost. While my heart weeps for the countless victims of this avoidable tragedy. I bring great news.
We have found a cure! The brilliant scientists at our research facility have found the answer to all of our problems. A cure! My brethren, now is the time, come out of hiding, brandish your weapons and reclaim this glorious country.
I implore you my brothers. Engage in the final push. The enemy is weak, and we have the answer. We will rebuild our great nation once more. We are creating the vaccine in mass quantities, the scientists are working tirelessly, trying to save every last one of you. Just hold on a little longer. Remember. Uncle Tobi loves you all, great and small.