New Threat (The Survivors Book Two)

by Nathan Hystad

  Something clicked in my head as I looked at her. “Wait. You’re Katherine Adams. I’ve heard the stories.”

  She had the decency to blush, and that was something I didn’t expect from this woman.

  “Yes. I’m tickled pink that you of all people would have an inkling of who I am. I just want to thank you for everything you did.”

  “The way I hear it, you deserve a lot of accolades. You saved lives up there. You created a medical center and a police force, and helped so many people.” I wasn’t exaggerating. She was the real deal. Thirteen was a real inspiration, and once all the vessels had turned around and headed back for Earth, a lot of her ideas were implemented on the other ships. She was a hero.

  The elevator chimed and the doors opened to the lobby. I once again stuck my arm out to hold the door as she went by, purse slung over her shoulder. She looked just like a woman on the way to a club in the Hamptons, and I couldn’t help but feel inferior for a moment.

  “None of it would have meant anything if you and your friends hadn’t saved us all. We are forever in your debt.” She stepped in and gave me a hug. Not one I would have expected, rather a close, firm hug that you’d save for a loved one you hadn’t seen in a long time. I returned it with the same vigor, and I realized we had all been through so much. We each had a story now, one that we all shared, and this made us all closer.

  We stood there in lobby, embracing like old friends for what probably was too long, and when we separated, she wiped a tear away with her hand. My heavy heart lifted at that moment. I knew we could rise above everything that had happened, and anything that would come against us.

  She moved back as if noticing she might have overstepped some social boundary, but I put her at ease with a gentle smile that meant it was as much my hug as hers. “I’m really glad we got to meet,” I said, reaching for my luggage.

  “Dean, if you’re ever in the area or just want to talk about anything, get in touch.” She pulled a business card out of her purse, and I flipped it in my fingers, rotating it to read the text. Survivor Support Family, it said in blue lettering across the white backdrop. Her name, email, and cell phone number were on there. It said “Founder” under her name. As if this woman hadn’t done enough, she was behind an international support group for anyone who needed it after all that had happened. I wanted to hug her again. At the same time, I felt shame for my own lack of effort over the past year. Just because I’d helped then didn’t mean I shouldn’t help what we’d salvaged.

  “I will. I just know Mary would love to talk to you,” I said, meaning it, and she lit up. We parted ways, and I couldn’t help but feel an extra motivation for the next few days.

  The walk was brief; only a few people walked around the streets that would once have been as busy as any in North America. Now it was almost empty, a shell of what it used to be. Things like corporations looking to appease shareholders almost ceased to exist, as did the stock exchange, but I knew it was only a matter of time before corporate greed and selfishness once again took hold, choking out the needy and separating the classes as always. If I was going to protect this world, I wanted to make sure the president was going to keep the world on track. I had never considered myself anything but a capitalist, but things had changed, and we needed to adapt.

  I heard a bark, and right away knew it was my little buddy Carey. I used my free hand to wave to Mary, and she gave me the sweetest smile in return. I really loved that woman. Going through what we had together not only made us stronger as people, but we were so tightly bonded I worried what would happen to either of us if…something happened to the other.

  I couldn’t go through it again.

  “Hey, bud.” I heard Magnus’ voice boom at me from across the street, and Natalia waved over at us. They looked around and started to cross the street toward me when a police cruiser raced down the street, sirens blaring and cherries flashing. He pulled Natalia back just in time, as another car sped down the otherwise quiet road. Her luggage wasn’t as lucky. It lay flattened as another half dozen police cars passed over it, soon followed by a couple of ambulances.

  When the commotion was over, I turned to see Carey and Mary beside me.

  “What’s their rush?” she asked.

  Magnus was now in the middle of the street yelling at the convoy of emergency vehicles, and Nat was dragging her bag to us on the sidewalk.

  “Good thing I didn’t pack my favorite pants,” she joked, eyes conveying her humor. It was so nice to see her making wisecracks, considering the first few days I’d known her, she was hard and mute.

  “The sirens are still loud, so they can’t be far from here. Let’s check it out, it might be coming from the White House,” I said, looking down the way and almost seeing the White House grounds. I’d almost forgotten we were only a half-mile from there.

  We made our way down the road, the street getting busier with people as we approached the gated greenspace. There was a large group at the front gates, a man talking passionately into a bullhorn. Carey sidled up to my feet as we stopped, not liking the noise or the crowds. I knelt and petted him, scratching him on the ear, and assured him everything was okay.

  “What do you think this is all about?” Mary asked our group.

  Magnus shrugged. “Since the beginning of time, people have been gathering in town squares to complain about things. Why should that change now?”

  We moved a little closer and could see the gates were closed. I tried to guess at the ever-growing crowd, and put it at around a thousand, but more were streaming in all the time. Someone had let the people of the city know there was something of interest going on, and I didn’t like the feeling the crowd was giving me. Finally, I saw some signs being thrust into the sky with angry vigor. Don’t forget the Event! Down with Dalhousie! Genocide is never okay! That last one stung me, and my breathing picked up. It was public knowledge that the Kraski had been destroyed, though the details of exactly how remained blurry. My name had been tossed around, of course, and I’d been asked for months by reporters and people on the street about my take on it. I refused to comment. Not because I felt regret for doing it, but because they would never understand that I had to do it. I didn’t have a choice. It was humans or Kraski. I chose my people, and it was something I would have to live with for the rest of my life. I was at peace with it.

  Mary must have seen it too, because she reached over and touched my arm. I smiled at her briefly and tossed a look at Magnus. He was there with me. We turned the Shield on together, killing the last of a race. A bond from something so big, we would always be connected by it. He looked back, his lips pressed tightly together. He gave me a quick wink, like it was no big deal, and I really liked that about him.

  “Hey, guys, check out that one,” Magnus said, pointing at a large green sign. Uranus or bust. At least some people still had a sense of humor.

  As we moved through the people, I finally saw the man speaking into the horn. He was on a homemade wooden pedestal so everyone could see him. He wore his hair in a man-bun, and I could see the passion for what he was saying burn out through his eyes. He was an intense man.

  “…Dalhousie is just like the rest of them, and maybe even worse. She brings with her the open air of concern and caring, but then gives preferential treatment to the elite, and if you break down her platform, she’s bringing the USA into a communist state!” he yelled into the speaker, and was cheered on by most of those around him.

  I nudged up to Magnus and spoke just loud enough for him to hear through the crowd noise. “I don’t like the feel of this. Keep an eye out for a weapon. Our people are on edge these days, and this is just the kind of scene where someone will be pushed to do something they normally wouldn’t. And if they have the crowd behind them, it could get ugly.”

  “I hear you, brother.” He gestured to his ankle, and I saw his pant leg was just a little more pushed out on that side. He was carrying. Probably not technically legal in the new D.C., but he was, after all,
appointed to the Earth Defense Unit by the president herself. It made me wish I was carrying something too, all of a sudden. If he was, that guaranteed Natalia was too.

  Mary pointed past the people. An entourage was coming from the White House. Soon I made out the dark hair of the president as she was flanked by numerous Secret Service agents. We were about thirty feet from her, but I could see her unease at having to deal with this. If I had to guess, she was advised to let them be and ignore the protesters. From my short interactions with her, I could tell she was passionate and thought her cause was just. She would do anything to have buy-in from the masses, and probably thought talking to them here would help do that. Looking around at the angry people, I wasn’t so sure.

  She stopped and a podium was dropped off by a van, with a built-in microphone and speaker. Her voice came through crisp and clear in opposition to the guy’s cheap hand-held horn.

  “Good morning, everyone. Times are changed now, and I’m not one of your old leaders. I want this to be a time of peace among all of us. We have to work together to accomplish this. The reality is, we have more to worry about than squabbles amongst ourselves. We must look to the skies and defend our home. To do this, we need to be a solid, cohesive planet,” she said, pausing as everyone had turned their attention to her.

  “Then why is my brother locked up? He didn’t do anything up there. I know it.” The man turned to her as he spoke. Now his anger was coming a little clearer.

  “We have dealt with the crimes during the days of the Event the best we could. Many people were hurt, raped, killed… I don’t know what you brother did, but we’re confident in our system. While it wasn’t one hundred percent effective, we had no choice but to punish those who harmed others during that strenuous time. What happened to us all gave no one the right to hurt another person. If anything, it gave the world an opportunity to help those in need, and many people did rise to the occasion.” Dalhousie was nailing it.

  The man fidgeted from side to side, and he got closer to the gate, moving off his box. “You’re wrong. You’re wrong about everything.” He was only about fifteen feet from her now, and I could see the Secret Service guys tensing. Magnus had moved around and reached for his ankle. With no one else noticing, he’d slid his gun from his ankle to his belt on his back. Nat moved the other way, and they were on opposite sides of the guy. A shot fired, only it came from behind us, not from the bullhorn guy. Dalhousie was being brought down by her guards, and Magnus tackled the man at the gate. Another shot rang out, and Mary took off, leaving me with Carey. The crowd was on the ground very quickly, Mae and I among them. Twenty yards away, on top of a black van, was the shooter. I saw a pylon go flying toward him, and then Mary was climbing the hood of the van, rushing at him like a bull at a red cape.

  Finally, I shook off the shock and passed Carey’s leash to Mae, running to the back of the van. He landed hard on the ground, and his rifle went flying. The van started to move, the driver evidently not wanting to get caught alongside the shooter. I was on the gun in a heartbeat, and Mary was jumping off the speeding van, rolling as she hit the ground. Holding the rifle at the man’s chest, I walked backward to make sure Mary was okay.

  She was on her feet in moments, rubbing dust off her pants. “Thanks for the backup, Dean.” She smiled hard at me. By then, the Secret Service were all around us, one holding a gun at the two of us. I turned the rifle around and held it out butt first.

  “I’ll be your backup anytime, if you want to take the climbing and jumping role,” I said, suddenly wishing we’d never made the trip to D.C.

  FOUR

  Dalhousie looked frazzled. The crowd had dispersed, rather than cause any problems. They had all been through a lot, and maybe the gunshots had been a reminder of their mortality. They’d all seen enough death. We stood in a quiet part of the White House not ever open to the public.

  The bullhorn guy had been shot. The van had gotten away, but the surveillance cameras should have picked up some details. The shooter was in the next room, and so far, hadn’t said anything to the Secret Service agents.

  “So why the hell did they shoot him? Were they just that bad at aiming?” the president asked.

  I’d thought about it, and since we didn’t know anything about the shooter, or really the victim, we could only speculate.

  “It could be they were trying to pin it on you guys. Someone spoke out, and the government swept in and shot them. Could be just enough of a spark to create a fire in the world today. I have to think there are groups out there who want trouble, so they can profit from chaos,” I said, probably on the right path with my thought pattern.

  Magnus puffed up, looking angry. “I saw the same kind of thing a lot in eastern Europe. A lot of times, a group would try to get the people riled up about another group, typically government, and then while all the shit was going down, they’d fly under the radar. Weapons trading, financial scams, drugs… whatever makes money.”

  Dalhousie nodded. “Magnus. Can you go in there and interrogate that bastard? I wouldn’t hold it against you if you let the perp think he killed that kid out there. I know he only grazed his arm, but let’s make him think there’s something terrible waiting for him after he’s out of here, unless he cooperates.”

  “You got it, ma’am. Though I’ve only been on the receiving end of those things,” he said, watching me raise an eyebrow to his statement. “Nothing like that. It was just a misunderstanding,” he assured me. I couldn’t help but snicker and held it back after Mary frowned at me.

  “Don’t we need a good cop for the game?” I asked.

  “Are you volunteering, Dean?” the president asked.

  I wasn’t but didn’t know if I could get out of it. I had no idea what to say or do in this situation.

  “I’m not sure I’m the man for the job.” I could already feel the sweat dripping down my back.

  “Sure you are, buddy.” Magnus clapped me on the back. “Nothing to it. Follow my lead.”

  And just like that, I was heading for my first interrogation as an Earth Defense officer. I still hadn’t had my coffee yet. As if someone read my mind, a page brought in a carafe and a pile of paper cups. Just in time.

  With a fresh cup of steaming Joe, I followed Magnus into the small office off the board room. The shooter was sitting on a chair, hands cuffed behind his back, his jaw resting on his chest. His head lay still, and I worried he might not be breathing, but when Magnus cleared his throat, the man’s mouth twitched.

  “What’s your name?” Magnus asked gruffly. The man lifted his head but kept his mouth shut, glaring back at the unlikely pair before him.

  “I said, what’s your name, soldier?” Magnus asked again.

  The shooter’s eye spasmed at the word soldier, and I knew Magnus had struck a nerve.

  Waiting a few moments for a reply that wasn’t coming, Magnus continued. “Army?”

  Still no reply, but I could tell Magnus was on the right track. The man’s posture went from deflated to rigid and proud in less than a minute.

  “Listen, the guy you shot is going to be okay. The president also doesn’t think you’re the brains of this operation, so just play along, and you might just get a slap on the wrist.” Magnus leaned over the small table, half covering it with his wide girth.

  I doubted this guy was getting just a slap on anything, and we actually hadn’t heard back on the health of the gunshot victim, but since it was just a flesh wound, the odds were he was going home tonight.

  Magnus was getting annoyed, and I could see a little vein start to pulse in his forehead. “Who. Sent. You?” he asked through his teeth.

  The man averted his eyes again, and I knew it was time to change gears. I sat down on the plastic flip chair in front of him and quietly spoke. “What number were you on?”

  Everyone left on Earth had been on a transport vessel just a year ago. The horrors they went through, and the pain of the losses, were still fresh in our minds. It was a simple question, see
mingly harmless, but it would invoke a lot of memories, undoubtedly bad ones.

  “Twenty-three. I was on twenty-three.” He made eye contact with me for the first time.

  I scanned my memory of the records. I didn’t know all of them, but the American ones had more exposure here, so I’d heard tales.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, putting my coffee down on the table. “You want a coffee?”

  He looked up at Magnus and then back to me. His eyes then lowered to his hands, which were cuffed behind him, and he shrugged.

  “Just give me a second,” I said, and left the room. I returned in a moment with the keys and a black coffee. They had given me a little grief about the tactics but were happy to see he was finally responding to something. They didn’t want to slow down any momentum I’d gained. Magnus just hung back as I undid the cuffs, happy to let me take the lead for now, but I knew he was ready for action should he be needed.

  The man rubbed his wrists, just like they always did in every cop show I’d ever seen. For a second, I felt like I was behind the camera of one of those nineties shows where a bald cop with a moustache always caught the bad guys, and then slept with a woman way out of his league.

  “Twenty-three was a tough run. Only something like thirty percent made it, I think?” I asked softly.

  A shaky hand reached for the steaming black coffee and he took a tentative sip. “Thirty-four,” he corrected. “The third worst out of all of them.”

  “Want to tell us about it?”

  He looked like he was about to shut me down, but then something changed. His eyes softened, and I saw his shoulders slump ever so slightly. I knew we were all carrying around so much weight from the Event, and not everyone had an avenue to release the pain. Sometimes all someone needed to do was talk about it, and they could move on with their lives. Suddenly, I felt bad for the guy.

  “I got back from the Middle East six months before…well...before they came. Wasn’t doing so hot. I tried to get a job, and all I could get was pushing a broom on a crappy strip mall construction gig. My wife was riding me to do better, like her being a hairdresser was this glorious crown-worthy enterprise.” He stopped, and I could see his eyes were getting wet. I assumed his wife wasn’t one of the lucky ones returning to Earth. “Anyway, things weren’t good between us, and when those ships came, I almost wished they would just end it. Blow us up. Make my memories mean nothing.” He took another sip of coffee.