Perfect. "I'll cut to the chase. Your administration is an affront to every American who ever bled for this country. You claim the title of President without ever winning an election. You followed on the coattails of that usurper, Suthby."
"President Suthby was—"
"I'm not finished!" barked Stapleton. A dialog box popped up on his main screen, informing him that Seeker Actual had delivered the all clear signal. His men were out of harms way and the armored cav was only moments away from assuming combat positions. Stapleton smiled.
"I'm giving you fair warning that we're coming for you."
"W-what? You're talking treason—"
"I'm talking justice."
"B-but, you can't do this! I'm the President! What you're talking about is a coup—a military coup!"
"Call it what you want, sir. I'm giving you the heads up so you'll consider surrendering now and saving me a lot of hassle. I'd hate to have to level Washington."
"You can't—the civilians—I…"
"Look at my track record. I am under orders from President Reed—the last legitimate President—to seek out and destroy the rebellion. Conveniently enough, they are leading me straight to you. You sir, are part of this rebellion now that you've opening your arms and offered amnesty."
"I won't give in. I'll fight you—"
Stapleton almost laughed. "You and what army?"
"If I have to, I'll bring in the Chinese."
Stapleton paused for a second. He hadn't expected that move at all.
"Yes, you didn't know about that, did you? I signed a truce with them, too. Was that treason to stop the bloodshed out west? To save our citizens under siege in California? They're our allies now and I think given the right incentive, would be more than happy to defend this government from a rogue general and his misguided army."
Stapleton clenched his fist. He's bluffing. The hell with this. "If you have video feeds or any way of seeing what's going on in Philadelphia, I suggest you pay attention. This is what's coming for you." He killed the transmission before Jones could sputter a response. Switching to the Stryker's in-cabin radio, he selected the command frequency and keyed the mic.
"All units, this is Command Actual. Engage, engage, engage."
Stapleton watched the view from Colonel Vinsen's lead tank on his screen as it fired the first salvo into Philadelphia, concentrating on the rebel outpost Hughes had ID'd from the air. The distant rumble of a dozen of other tanks firing at once brought a smile to his face.
"Watch carefully, Mr. President."
Chapter 23
The Fort
EVANS SIPPED HOT COFFEE from a mug that said 'world's greatest hunter' as he stared out the expansive three-story window west across Lake Ticonderoga.
The sun had only just risen, so the rich fall colors of the world were still gray and muted, but it was more than enough for him to see across the lake and realize the object he’d seen at the night before was none other than Fort Ticonderoga. He'd heard about the fort on TV back in prison, but as a native Mainer, he'd never visited before.
Now as he stared across the lake, it looked like the biggest golden ticket in the world. Thick, high stone walls, and a massive gate that he could easily see through the early morning fog that hugged the lake. The fort would be the perfect place for him to take control of the area. The idea of simply surviving the winter began to fade, replaced by something new. Something hungry.
With the amount of food and water they'd secured by killing the family that had lived in his new mansion, He'd have more than enough to feed his crew for at least a few days. And best news of all, the Vermont side of the lake was littered with houses just like his new command center.
He took another sip of the coffee. It was a rich Columbian free-trade roast, probably cost the owners $100 a bag. One of the men from his raiding party had started a fire in the fireplace and before long they had fresh coffee to go with the emergency rations liberated from the basement bunker.
He smiled, remembering the activities of the night before. He'd known right from the get-go the guy who owned this place would be armed. What he didn't know, based off the trophies stuffed and mounted on the walls—he never understood why people did that, it was just gross to have dead animals hanging from your walls—was that the guy was a hardcore survivalist. The homeowner refused to give up the location of his stash, no matter the pain Evans inflicted on him—until he turned his boys loose on the man’s wife and daughter.
Their screams were like music to his ears. The homeowner spilled the beans pretty quick after that. Once the boys had their fun, he had the girls killed, saving the homeowner for himself. It took a while to clean himself after, but it was worth it. He felt invigorated. Alive.
He glanced across the lake at the pair of houses he'd had the rest of his men take last night. He didn't like having his forces split on opposite side of the lake, but at least this way if somebody decided to do something about it, worst-case scenario he'd only lose half his crew. His eyes drifted back to the fort.
But in there…I'd be untouchable.
A plan of action formed in his head. He would use the sailboat to transport a raiding party to the fort and capture it. Then they could haul their loot across the lake once it was secure. He'd send men out to find as many boats as they could and bring them to the fort. From there, he could shuttle men and supplies back and forth across the lake at will, raiding like Vikings, taking what they wanted, killing anyone who got in their way.
We'll be gods.
Evans smiled over the rim of his coffee. His eyes locked on the fort. Oh yeah, this is gonna be good. "Gimpy!" he called over his shoulder.
"Yeah?" replied the old sailor from across the kitchen.
"Let's get your boat ready for action. We've got a busy day today."
"Where we going?" the old man asked as he stepped up next to Evans. The man smelled like blood and piss.
Evans pointed with his coffee cup at the fort across the lake. "Over there."
"I like the way you think, sheriff."
Chapter 24
Friends no More
DANIEL STARED AT THE impassive face on the screen in front of him. "Mr. Secretary-General, I don't understand the reluctance—"
An expansive, if false smile spread across the older man's face. "Mr. President, I am beginning to realize there are a great many things you do not understand. Chief amongst them is how to effectively run a government. Quite frankly, sir," the Secretary-General said, clasping his hands before him, "you're in over your head." He shook his head.
"Our humanitarian forces and relief agencies have been completely decimated by rogue elements from your own military and civilian population. The situation is untenable. Member nations have supplied troops, personnel, and supplies in the face of constant and now overwhelming opposition. They have been wanting to leave for some time now. It is only through force of will that I've been able to hold together the coalition this long. I'm afraid if you do not reverse the trends in your country immediately, I will have no choice but to acquiesce to the General Assembly and formally terminate relief operations." The man blinked and waited for a response.
Daniel's mind raced. Everything was falling apart. He had to have external military support to tackle Stapleton. A few local commanders had gone rogue like Stapleton, but none were having more of an impact than the cantankerous army general chasing Malcolm.
Daniel frowned. He needed Stapleton though—he needed the army to put pressure on Malcolm to force compliance so he'd focus on getting his people to Florida. He needed Malcolm to take out or at least slow the advance of the Russians.
He rubbed his temples. All his problems were based on three uncontrollable variables. It was like a giant house of cards and he was watching a gusty wind kick up. It was only a matter of time before one or more supports fell out and the entire thing collapsed.
And whoever sits on top falls the farthest. He glanced at the staffers through the window on the far side of h
is office. All of them thought of him as the real president. They expected him to lead, to bring the country out of the darkness and back to civilization.
An ironic question bubbled up in the back of his mind. What would Hank have done? What would Reed have done?
"Mr. President, I'm sure you have many things to attend to, but I wanted to offer you my personal best wishes. There's simply nothing more I can do for you."
The man wants to go, but he's too polite to just hang up.
Daniel nodded. "Oh…of course. Of course. I'm sorry we couldn't figure something else out, something more beneficial to both of our constituents…"
"There you have it…" said the Secretary-General, his face a mask of consolation.
Yes. There you have it.
The screen went dark. Daniel stared at the wall for a long moment, listening to murmured voices from the other side of his office door. What am I going to do?
If the rumors were true that the Secretary of the Department of Education had been found alive in her home state of Colorado…Daniel looked at the pictures on the wall of past presidents shaking hands with foreign dignitaries. President Reed was the last one. Blank spaces had been left for future presidents. No one had gotten a picture of Hank and if Daniel didn't come up with a solution, there would never be one of him, either.
The U.N. is going to abandon me. After all the brokered deals, after all of the work—they're just going to pull up stakes and leave. The Russians will never trust me again. He sighed. Kristanoff wants my blood almost as much as he wants Stapleton and Malcolm. How the hell those two managed to piss everybody off in the world, I don't know.
He drummed his fingers on the desk. Where does that leave me?
He stared at a theater map showing the east coast of the United States and the current troop locations of Malcolm's people and Stapleton's army. He picked up his phone and the operator's breathless voice immediately greeted him.
"Yes Mr. President?"
"Marylyn, I need to get in touch with Malcolm."
A slight pause met his request. "Malcolm, sir? I don't see a Malcolm in the database here…"
Daniel rolled his eyes. "Malcolm Abdul Rashid. The leader of the rebellion. We have a secure link with him, but I don't know what the passcode is. Suthby had it all set up—I'm sure you've got it on file somewhere…"
Another brief pause. "Oh! Oh, here it is!" she gasped. "One moment, sir— I'll transfer you."
Daniel drummed his fingers on the desk again as he waited. And waited…and waited. At last the connection was established and a breathless voice came on the line.
"Who is it?"
"This is Daniel Jones, President of the United States. Whom am I speaking with?"
Crackling static tickled his ear as the phone was transferred to someone else. "This is Malcolm."
"I'll cut right to the chase. I know you're a busy man."
"No thanks to you."
Daniel ignored the jibe. "I wish to propose a new deal."
"I'm listening."
"FEMA has a warehouse just outside of Washington—I'm sure by now your people could use a little extra food and water. Am I right?"
"A good guess. Go on."
"I'm going to do us both a favor and ignore the insolence in your voice. Try to keep in mind you're talking to the President of the United States." Daniel hurried on before Malcolm could respond. "I recommend you take those supplies and distribute them to your people."
After a thoughtful pause, Malcolm returned to the line. "In exchange for what?"
"I need you to delay Stapleton's arrival as long as possible."
"Why would that be, Mr. President? Are you planning on evacuating Washington?"
Daniel blinked. He had not even considered that possibility. But now he supposed, since Stapleton had moved south past the still-burning ruins of Philadelphia, he would have to seriously consider evacuation.
Stay in Washington and hope Stapleton didn't get greedy and try to snag the sitting president? Or pack his bags and flee west, maybe to the Greenbrier complex? It was something else to add to the list of things think about.
"That is not what I'm suggesting," he said.
Malcolm laughed, a bitter sound "I can tell by the tone of your voice and how long you took to respond you hadn't even thought of that. I'm beginning to doubt the longevity of your presidency."
Daniel clenched his jaw. Why does everyone keep saying that?
Malcolm grunted. "I have a counterproposal."
Daniel swallowed. "Okay."
"I've recently come into possession of a high-ranking officer in the United States Air Force. A certain female colonel. She is my prisoner, but I would be willing to consider an exchange. I am not an unreasonable man, Mr. President—I understand she has family and friends who would like to see her again, if they yet live. I also understand, however, that as a lieutenant colonel, she might possibly have certain…secrets…"
"Secrets?" asked Daniel.
Malcolm grunted. "Knowledge of your national defensive capabilities that you would not want to fall into the hands of the Russians at this time."
Daniel broke out into a cold sweat. Dear God, what I got myself into? "I see. That's very interesting. I'll need time to discuss this with my advisers."
"Don't take too long, Mr. President. My people are almost out of food and water and General Stapleton has so far proven to be relentless in his pursuit. I would hate to see what happened to Philadelphia happen to…another city. Like Baltimore perhaps?"
Daniel opened his mouth to speak, but the line went dead. God dammit! This is not how it's supposed to go. If this falls through, I'm going to have to figure out how to get the hell out of Washington.
He looked up. Jesus, what if Stapleton decides to send some sort of assault team after me? Daniel froze in a panic. What the hell am I supposed to do?
Chapter 25
Pit Stop
ERIK ADJUSTED HIS SEATBELT and blinked. The road blurred in front of him, reduced to twin cones of white light in front of their van. It'd been two days since they left Dunham. They crossed the entire state of South Carolina without incident and Erik hoped this, the dawn of the second day, would go just as smooth.
He rubbed his eyes. So far the back roads they'd been following remained mostly clear of cars. He'd only slowed down twice during the long night to gently work his way around wrecks. Brin, Ted, and the kids were in the back of the van sleeping peacefully. They'd long since decided to stow the third row seating and provide the adults space to stretch out. They didn't have much in the way of creature comfort with the kids curled up around them like cats, but it got the job done.
Movement between the two captain's seats in the middle row brought Erik's eyes to the rear view mirror. By the dim glow of the instrument panel, Erik made out Susan’s ghost hovering over his shoulder. He blinked.
"Um, Erik?" whispered Lindsay. Her resemblance to her mother was uncanny.
"Yeah?" Erik mumbled.
"I have to go to the bathroom," she said.
Erik blinked and focused on the road. Damn. He was hoping to make it through this night, just like the last without stopping. They were able to travel faster during the day, but any distance they picked up at night brought them that much closer to safety.
He gripped the steering wheel tight. As tired as he was, it was hard to control his frustration and he had to—especially with the children. Sighing, he realized he could use a break as well. Better to waste five minutes going to the bathroom and stretching his legs in the middle of nowhere, then risk falling asleep and killing them all.
He nodded. "Okay, hang in there and get your shoes on. I'll find us a nice quiet spot."
A few minutes later, a suitable turnoff materialized in front of him. Erik slowed and passed through a deserted country intersection, looking both ways. Just like every other small community they passed, everything was pitch black. No lights, no electricity, no nothing. It was like the whole world had vanished.
> Erik knew deep in his soul that hundreds of thousands—if not millions—of Americans had perished in the weeks and months after the power had gone out. In Florida, he'd seen the effects of the Russian invasion first-hand. Yet the population had been decimated by disease even more than fighting. He had hoped the people in rural areas of the country survived better than those that relied on just-in-time deliveries of food and water.
He shook his head as they rolled through the intersection. If anyone was still alive out here, they were hiding well.
It was bad enough that Ted had filled him in on what the people of Dunham had been dealing with. Ted found out through hushed conversations with sympathetic locals that the sheriff had been consolidating his power throughout the county—mostly by bullying and intimidating local townspeople into accepting his rule. Over the course of the past few months, Dunham became the last holdout.
When intimidation tactics failed, the sheriff had 'outsiders' appear. When that failed he resorted to out-and-out hostage-taking. That was when the town leaders occupied the jail. The day they had rolled into town in the M-ATV, the sheriff had decided to make a frontal assault against the last holdouts.
The thought still made Erik sick to his stomach. He and Ted had helped bring the last free town in Hull county to its knees at the behest of the corrupt sheriff. The one comfort he had was that the sheriff would never hurt anyone again—Ted had made sure of that before he destroyed the M-ATV.
"Mr. Erik, I really gotta pee…" whispered Lindsay.
"Okay, okay…hang on…" Erik replied. Well, we got another couple miles under the belt while she waited… That's something.
He saw a scenic overlook sign up ahead, and pulled into the side lane, quickly switching off the lights and letting the car ghost to a stop. He shifted into park as fast as possible to eliminate the taillights. He killed the interior lights first, then quietly opened his door, taking his rifle with him.
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