A New World: Conspiracy

by John O'Brien

  “This is where we gather for evening meals and meetings,” James says, joining Greg. “We use the kitchen here and discuss the day’s activities. Eating together helps to keep us feeling like a community. I’ve called ahead and asked the town to meet us.”

  Other cars and trucks enter. Those who exit stare at the Stryker and Greg as they walk into the restaurant portion of the hotel. Greg doesn’t sense any malevolence in their actions or the darting eyes that may foretell misfortune. They carry the same wariness exhibited by James during their initial meeting. Greg is shocked to see them casually enter into a building.

  “You just go into a building? What about night runners?” Greg asks, watching several people swing the entrance door open and go inside.

  “Who?” James asks.

  “You know, the night hunters…the infected ones who come out at night and hide out in darkened buildings?”

  “What do you say we get out of the sun and talk about things,” James says, motioning with his arm for Greg to head into the restaurant.

  Greg looks sharply at James. The answer James gave was an outright evasion of Greg’s question which makes Greg feel uneasy.

  “Not until I have an answer. I don’t mean to seem inhospitable, but wherever there are survivors, there are also night runners,” Greg says.

  “Well, the answer to your question is that we don’t have any of the sick ones here,” James says.

  “How is that possible? Were you able to kill them all?”

  James hesitates just a fraction of a second before replying, “Yes. We took care of all of the sick ones in town.”

  It still seems like an evasion of sorts, but it satisfies Greg’s curiosity. He supposes in a small enough town that it’s possible to eliminate the night runner population and set up a community like this. Greg nods and he and James proceed into the café.

  Inside, Greg smells the aroma of food cooking. Men, women, and children of all ages sit around scattered tables. It looks like any other family-style restaurant, and seeing people gathered as they are almost makes things feel normal. Others enter behind and push past to find places to sit.

  “We’d usually be in the fields or working on other chores. We vacated the fields when we saw your approach,” James says.

  He introduces Greg to the gathering and guides him to a table. Many people nod their greetings and there are a few dispersed vocal greetings. The silence is complete except for the occasional clang of a pot or pan from the kitchen in back. As Greg sits with James, the hubbub of general conversation slowly picks up.

  Soon, plates of scrambled eggs and bacon begin to be distributed.

  “It’s all we could come up with on short notice,” the man says, placing a plate in front of James and Greg.

  “I’m sure it’s good and thanks for coming in,” James returns.

  Turning to Greg, James says, “Your people are welcome to join us for a hot meal.”

  Greg looks around. It seems normal enough and, while most of the people have weapons either on or near them, there isn’t an ounce of hostility that he can detect. He calls on the radio and has the team come in two at a time to eat. The .50 cal remains manned with a small three-person reaction team. He tells the others they can open up the rear and head outside, but they are to remain near the protective armor.

  The conversation between James and Greg turn to their stories. As they talk, Greg begins to feel more comfortable and shares as well. There was still that fraction of a second hesitation James had in answering, but that could be from the discomfort of two groups coming together and trying to find where the trust line falls.

  Greg learns the group, totaling eighty-three men, women, and children, built the fence early on after things fell apart. They pulled the materials from Pueblo and carted them back on semis. They also brought solar panels, inverters, and equipment to set up a solar farm which they are presently working on.

  “We know the batteries won’t last forever, but we’ll have something else figured out by then,” James says.

  For now, they have several greenhouses and animal pens set up within the fenced portion of the city. A ready water supply is provided by the river and they bring it in with the town’s two fire trucks and a water tanker. They started working the nearby fields in the hopes of getting a small crop in before the cold hits. They’ll use those fields extensively in the coming year. An irrigation project is underway to supply the fields from the river.

  When asked about arms, James mentions that everyone carries and they mostly have hunting rifles with a scattering of semi-auto carbines. “Everyone around here knows how to shoot, but we still practice.”

  James mentions that not everyone is from Lamar but from the surrounding towns all the way to Wichita, Kansas. The ones who survived in the town started gathering others up and down the highway while on scavenging runs.

  “So you were able to take care of the…sick ones early on? There aren’t any who bother you here?” Greg asks.

  Again that split second of hesitation, “Yes. We took care of the sick ones right off. There weren’t many of these night runners, as you call them. I’ll tell you, though, the ones that were here were damn hard to kill. We lost a few good people taking care of them.”

  With a fork full of eggs halfway to his mouth, Greg looks at James. He gets the distinct impression that James’ definition of sick ones is different from his and feels that James had almost said ‘There weren’t many of these night runners afterwards’. He thinks back and remembers Jack mentioning that the Lajes AFB commander in the Azores had all of the ill ones shot when he figured out what was going on. They would have survived too, except they couldn’t be resupplied and crashed into the Atlantic trying to fly out of there. Frank is one of the only survivors from that place.

  Greg gives an internal shrug and stuffs the scrambled eggs into his mouth. Who is he to judge the survivors? If they didn’t do what they did, they might not be here to talk about it. Or at least the night runner threat would have been more of an undertaking to rid themselves of.

  Perhaps if everyone had taken this stance…

  Greg gives his story and the tale of the others to the northwest. Without being overly detailed, he tells of their heading to Manitou Springs. Upon hearing that they intend to head in that direction, James informs them that they have blown the bridges across the river just north of town.

  “We kept getting trouble from marauders in that direction. Perhaps they saw us gathering materials in Pueblo and followed us, I’m not sure. We just know that they showed up and we were barely able to keep them at bay. That was a while ago, but we’ve heard engine noises a few times in the past week. That’s why we were cautious with you. The fact is that you’re the first we’ve seen coming from the east. That and the fact that you tried to pass around us instead of trying to going through is the only reason we’re having this conversation,” James says. “We keep that road open because we use it to scavenge when we can. We blew the bridge to the south and created a large ditch across the road to the west. Overland, it’s more difficult to get to us, and we can see anyone coming from miles away. So, I’d be cautious heading in that direction, even with that monster you have outside.”

  “Great. I guess we’ll have to cross the river bed itself seeing that’s really our only viable way west,” Greg says.

  “I’d warn you about doing that. The sandy areas adjacent to the river are tricky and there are a few swamps that would make the crossing difficult. We do, however, have a ford nearby which I can guide you through,” James replies.

  Greg thanks him and offers for the survivors here to join theirs in the northwest. They’d have to make their own way or wait until the C-130 is available to transport them.

  “I appreciate the offer, but we have it pretty well here. We’ve managed to adapt and I’m not sure some of the others could tolerate a move of that magnitude mentally. It’s comfortable here and we can make a go of it. It’s as safe as we can make it and…well, it�
�s home.”

  Greg gets that reasoning. Comfort and a feeling of safety are vital to long-term survival. They’ve passed the most pressing survival issues of shelter, sustenance, and safety. There is still the stress of the potential marauders but that would be true anywhere. They have that up north but the stresses there are greater and seemingly every day. Perhaps they should find a place like this and move.

  Thoughts for that later, Greg thinks, finishing his meal.

  “Seeing the day is getting on, I doubt you’ll make it to your destination before dark. You are welcome to stay here with us,” James says. “You’ll have to stay the night somewhere and we’d welcome the company.”

  Greg heads outside to talk over the offer with the team and they agree it would be nice to sleep on real beds and have another hot meal. He knew they wouldn’t turn that offer down.

  What soldier says no to a hot, home-cooked meal? Greg thinks, returning and thanking James for his offer.

  The team spends the afternoon helping mend the fences they obliterated on their run through the fields. In the evening, they sit in the restaurant with the townspeople engaging in whatever conversation arises. The late afternoon glow spreads across the parking lot outside. Greg feels nervous tension come over him as he looks through the glass to the ending day outside. The people make no move to finish their evening and relocate to a more secure location. It feels odd to be sitting in such an indefensible place with the time of the night runners quickly descending. The anxiety building inside is almost suffocating. He notices the other team members apprehensively glancing outside. The later the day gets, the more their glances are directed to the windows and farther back in the building. Yet, the din of conversation and laughter inside never changes.

  It’s at this point that Greg fully realizes the stress of what they’ve all been through and continue to carry on a day-to-day basis. Night and darkness will always be a source of fear for as long as he walks this earth – at least when outside of the compound. He recognizes the comfortable feeling the residents here have. They have the same back at Cabela’s, but an underlying current of tension doesn’t allow them the same comfort these people seem to have. He wonders if they will ever be able to achieve something like this and envies these people their ability to relax.

  Night closes in. The shrieks Greg has become accustomed to when the darkness falls near population centers don’t materialize. That doesn’t ease his anxiety though. Eventually, the people of the town begin departing for home. The normalcy of what used to be everyday life has now become the unreal nature…something that doesn’t seem right anymore.

  After the restaurant has almost emptied, Greg and his team bid their farewells. James has set them up in several rooms in the hotel. Although still anxious about the nighttime and night runners, Greg asks for rooms on the lower floor. That is so they can make a quick exit to the Stryker. The atmosphere with the survivors is relaxed, but he sets a watch nonetheless. Those on watch will stay in the Stryker. He trusts the folks they’ve come into contact with but, with the world the way it is, that trust only extends so far. He noted that James set them up in the hotel rather than inviting them into their homes. James is only extending his trust so far as well, and Greg is sure that James has set someone to watch them. It’s possible that James feels like the Stryker is a two-sided coin. On one side, having it parked on the northern end, where they have been harassed previously by bandits, is a security to the town but, on the other side, it also represents a threat to the community.

  Greg takes the first watch with another team member. Looking over the dark countryside, he reflects on the world. It’s not really that much different than what he’s been accustomed. His parents were killed when he was young, and he was sent to his grandmother to be raised. Life was as normal as any other child. They weren’t rich but his grandmother worked to provide for him. Not having the money to go to college, he was able to get an Army scholarship and rode that through his four years at the university. He graduated with his degree and an Army commission. After that, he opted for the Ranger path and has been deployed for the most part since his training. He’s used to being away from home and surrounded by enemies so this new world he finds himself in isn’t entirely different. The only change is that the enemy is on his home soil. And those that he protects have been significantly reduced in numbers.

  Looking over the darkened town, he’s glad to know that some have a greater chance of seeing this through. It gives hope that they’ll find the soldiers’ families and, on a larger scale, for the continued existence of humankind. The people in this town are thinking in the long-term and seem to have it handled providing marauders don’t get to them. As far as bandits go, they won’t last too long in this world because of their mentality. Their take-what-you-can-when-you-want attitude is a very short-term way of thinking and that’s how long they usually last: short-term.

  There’s a peace here that Greg can’t quite get secure with. He’s become used to that underlying tension. That’s not a bad thing, but it can’t be sustained. He’ll have to talk with Jack when he sees him next. At the very least, these people have given him something to strive for and the knowledge that it can be done.

  Dawn arrives without a single scream to wake him. He folded into the comfort of the sheets and fell instantly asleep following his watch. Feeling like he could sleep the entire day away, he rises and performs his ablutions. Walking into the parking lot with the sun having just crested the eastern horizon, the metal hull of the Stryker is bathed in the early morning rays. After the comfort of the bed, he’s loathe to climb back into the cramped quarters which will more than likely be their only home for some time to come.

  James pulls in with his pickup shortly thereafter and greets Greg and his team. Off in the distance, Greg hears other vehicles driving through the streets of the city. The town had a day off with their arrival but is now back at whatever tasks they have. Greg is eager to be off but will miss this place. He won’t forget the peaceful feeling but doubts he will ever see these people again. It’s like those at Mountain Home. To the people he meets, he and the team are just a quick interruption in their quest for survival – something that will be told in stories around the table for a couple of weeks and then forgotten.

  He and James exchange some small talk and they are soon on their way. They follow the truck through the northern gate and turn left onto a dirt road. They turn again and come to a narrow dirt causeway between two sloughs. The sloughs give way to swampy areas that would be next to impossible to cross with a motorized vehicle. James negotiates an almost invisible pathway through. They wind this way and that until arriving at the river. Sand and stunted trees line the banks. James guides them to a narrow part of the river and they ford. Staying near a hill, they come across another dirt road. Following it, they soon intersect the highway north of the fallen bridges. James pulls to halt on the side of the road. Greg has the Stryker pull behind and the two meet on the grit-covered shoulder.

  “Thank you for everything,” Greg says as the two exchange handshakes.

  “It’s our pleasure. Good luck to you, captain,” James says.

  “And to you, James.”

  There’s nothing left to be said, so Greg climbs aboard the armored vehicle. He has the driver pull onto the road and, with a wave to James, they head north. Greg glances back to watch James diminish as they motor down the road. James climbs into his truck, backs up, and, entering the dirt track, disappears from view. Not far to the north, the road bends, turning east toward Pueblo.

  If anything, the terrain is even more remote and barren upon leaving Lamar. They continue their slow travel and it’s a couple of hours before they come across their first town. Greg holds to his plan and circumvents the city. He’s ever-watchful for the bandits James cautioned them about. They aren’t impervious in the Stryker, and he is mindful that it wouldn’t take much in today’s world for a group to raid a military base and come up with hardware that could quickly take the
m apart. At their current rate of travel, Greg hopes to arrive at their destination by mid-afternoon. This assumes they can continue to circumvent the larger towns and make it safely through Pueblo and Colorado Springs.

  The highway continues to parallel the river course. Greg finds a gas station in the small town of Manzanola which has above-ground fuel tanks. With the team set out in a small perimeter, they top off the Stryker’s tanks. Well into their day, they haven’t run across a single sign of survivors. It makes Greg think that the town of Lamar and finding others in the nearby communities was either a fluke, or anyone in the towns they’ve come across since has ran afoul of the bandits. Either way, each place has proven to be a ghost town. With little food sources nearby – cattle or fertile hunting grounds – he doubts any night runners have survived in this remoteness either.

  Each road sign they pass shows the mileage to Pueblo counting down. At times, the opposite lane of the two-lane highway gives the impression of vehicle tracks – side by side sections of pavement can be clearly seen. The traces appear to be the width of autos rather than armored vehicles which brings some relief to Greg. He isn’t sure of the observations as it could be just a trick of the wind, but he isn’t taking any chances. He slows and they methodically survey the area ahead before proceeding on. This takes more time, but Greg doesn’t want to gamble.

  Housing developments and small industrial parks appear ahead as they near the outskirts of Pueblo. At the very edge of the metropolis, a highway branches off which skirts the outer edges of the city. The Stryker turns onto this new highway and they are soon in barren lands once again. Before long, residential neighborhoods appear to the left toward the urban sprawl, with the large expanse of Colorado State University to the right. As they proceed, there are an increased number of bare spots in the pavement.