River of Night

by John Ringo

  “Not the Jamaicans, Kap,” Tom said, as he unstuck from the tomahawk the clotted blood and mud that caked its sheath. He walked over to the tiny bathroom but left the door open as he ran the sink. “Kohn. Kohn put the hit on Dominguez because he’d become too big a threat. Remember how we couldn’t figure out how the hitters made it inside One Police Plaza, the hardest target in New York? Why they chose the kids’ dormitory to start the infection? Kohn had access to all the information on entry protocols, building layout, credentials—you name it.”

  “And you know this how?” Stantz asked.

  “Kohn all but bragged about it as she shoved me out of the camp under guard,” Tom answered while rinsing blood and hair from his tomahawk before hitting it with a spray of lubricant. “She warned us—me, personally, I think—that she won’t tolerate any rival, and I know that Risky will not respond well to being threatened. So I’m going, tonight.”

  Tom walked back into the main room, ignoring the discomfort of his mud-encrusted clothes.

  “I marked the best route on the way here,” he said, reaching for the AR that was lying on the main control panel. “Whose rifle is this?”

  “Detkovic’s,” Robbins answered. “He’s outside, under a blanket.”

  Tom closed his eyes, motionless for a moment. Then he performed a chamber check and dropped the sling over his shoulder.

  “I’m leaving now for Spring City,” he said, scanning his audience’s skeptical faces. He didn’t want to ask for more, but he had no choice. “Then I’m driving to Site Blue. It’s going to be dangerous. I know that you’re all tired. I’m tired too. But the op isn’t over, not yet, and it has the potential to get worse. Who’s in?”

  * * *

  “I think that the coffee is getting worse,” Randall said, staring balefully into the brown-stained mug.

  The door to the mostly empty cafeteria opened too swiftly for the blackout curtain, letting electric light leak into the night sky, and someone growled a reproof. Worf looked up to see Astroga in new civilian clothes, headed for the coffee urn, trailed by one of Schweizer’s deer-rifle armed goons.

  “Hey Worf, is the coffee fresh?” Astroga chirped.

  “That’s Sergeant Copley to you, Specialist!” Randall grated, staring hard at his former teammate. “And you’re out of uniform!”

  “Wow, aren’t we regulation!” Astroga said, pointedly looking at her guard for a moment before giving Randall a big, cheesy smile. “Good thing I don’t work for you anymore. I just wanted a favor from Worf, is all, since I’m gonna be wearing more civvies now.” She addressed Worf directly. “I left my favorite Cardinals ballcap in the ladies latrine and I gotta go clean Miss Kohn’s office. Can you grab it for me before it walks off? I’ll come find you in the radio shack later.”

  “Lock it up, Pri—” Randall began to stand up but Worf grabbed his forearm in a strong grip, quashing the other man’s anger.

  “It’s all good, Astro,” Worf said with deceptive mildness. “Happy to get it as soon as I finish my coffee.”

  “Ain’t you a peach, Sarge!” she said, snapping a plastic lid onto her cup before briskly striding towards the door, still shadowed by the bored guard. “Gunner, you not so much! Gotta go!”

  Worf kept sipping his coffee for a few minutes before Randall simmered over.

  “What. The. Fuck. Was. That, Sergeant?” he whispered harshly.

  “Astroga doesn’t follow baseball, Gunner,” Worf said softly, reaching for extra dairy creamer. “So we’re going to go fetch her cap for her.”

  Randall stared at him like he was a crazy man.

  * * *

  Astroga had shown up hours earlier to deliver dinner and assurances that she was just being practical. The empty trays hadn’t yet been retrieved and Risky was balefully staring at the nylon zip ties that anchored her to the bed frame when the CHU door rattled under someone’s knock.

  Risky watched Kendra open the door for Schweizer, who soundlessly hooked a thumb towards the main camp building. Kendra got up and snipped the zip ties with a wire cutter.

  “We’re going to talk to Joanna now,” she said.

  “Can I persuade you to let me pee first?” Risky asked, standing up and smoothing her rumpled clothes.

  “Sure,” Kendra answered, after getting a shrug from Schweizer.

  * * *

  It only took Worf a moment to locate the pistol and the plastic baggie with a note scrawled by Astroga, while Randall watched the door.

  Worf read the note twice.

  What the hell?

  * * *

  As they walked around the corner towards the CHU where she’d showered earlier, the trio led by Schweizer almost ran into Copley and Randall, who came to a complete halt to avoid the collision.

  “What are you guys doing out?” Schweizer asked, looking irritated. “There’s a reason for curfew, Randall. We stay dark, we stay quiet and we stay inside to avoid attracting attention. You know it as well as I do. This isn’t the time to remini—”

  “We just got some coffee,” Randall said. “That’s all.”

  Risky darted a look at Copley, who was wearing his “bland” face.

  “We’re heading back to the comms shack now.”

  “Can I go?” Risky said, striding around the group towards the bathroom hut. “Have been damn CHU all damn day!”

  “We have a meeting,” Schweizer said as he watched Risky pass. Then he motioned curtly for the two soldiers. “Go back to the radio room. I’ll be there in five minutes, and you better have a better explanation, Randall.”

  Risky ignored the exchange, walking rapidly to the bathroom CHU, trailed by Kendra, and let herself into “her” stall.

  Lifting the toilet tank lid, she was greeted by…nothing.

  “Kak chertovski zdorovo!” she said under her breath. “How very fucking great!”

  She patted her pocket to double-check that she still had one weapon.

  * * *

  “Through the door,” said Kendra in a firm voice. She’d kept a safe interval between herself and Risky during their walk over.

  That was a compliment of a sort, Risky realized.

  She strode confidently into Kohn’s office, her feet wrinkling heavy plastic that obscured the wooden cabin floor. She looked down and smiled.

  Subtlety was supposed to be Kohn’s strong suite.

  Behind her desk, in her high-collared gray tunic, Kohn was reading. The pages quietly shuffled as she leafed through the red-spined binder.

  Kendra slipped through the door behind Risky and closed it, maintaining a double arm’s distance. The muzzle of the pistol didn’t waver, forming the vertex of a triangle defined by the three women. She waited a beat. Two.

  “Joanna, Ms. Khabayeva is here to see you,” she said.

  “Mmmm?” Kohn murmured unnecessarily as she looked up. “Ah. Ms. Khabayeva, so glad that you came.” The binder closed with a snap. “I have to make a great number of decisions that will decide the future of the colony of New Hope and those that shelter within.”

  Risky stood easily, but silently. She looked at the seated woman, giving away nothing.

  After a pause, Kohn plucked a fountain pen from its holder.

  “As you may have learned, Mr. Smith has accepted his duty to secure for the camp a functioning hydroelectric dam that may be nearby,” she said patiently. “Further, he will likely have to confront the Gleaners, who may have the same objective. In either event, there remains the likelihood that we will have to surrender the child in order to buy us more time to prepare.”

  Risky bared her teeth. She wasn’t smiling.

  “It would help me a very great deal if, like Mr. Smith, you publicly recognized my authority. He is doing this of his own will, for all of us,” Kohn said, her tone becoming persuasive. “Further divisions among the…contributors of our colony can weaken us all.”

  “Don’t you mean that with Tom out of the picture, there is no one to challenge your job?” Risky said, jamming her
hands in her pants pockets. “What is title you adopted, Administrator, yes?”

  “I am the Acting Administrator, yes.” Joanna was unruffled. “But anyone could be nominated to the permanent role, once we resolve the current crisis. A crisis precipitated by the incautious actions of our friend, Tom Smith. That he accepts responsibility for this crisis and is prepared to make amends, even at great personal risk, had a certain…” the fountain pen tapped the desk once “…symmetry.”

  “Joanna, I know how your type craves power,” Risky said. “Crave power like fat man crave food he doesn’t need. I know scared people will trade a little of themselves for promises of safety, or food. Or freedom. This isn’t sacrifice that we need. But it gets rid of person that you don’t need. So less, how you say, bullshit, please.”

  “I am not asking for your gratitude,” Joanna said, tapping the desk again. “What I am trying to explain is that this is the only way. If you are part of the solution, then Mr. Smith gets a better chance to survive. If he does not survive that will be a great tragedy, but New Hope will remain strong, unified. Yes, I intend to be in charge. All there is of a civil society is this colony. I mean to ensure that I can direct its success.”

  She paused and resumed a more conversational tone.

  “I know something of your personal history, Risky. I know that you are a survivor, too. How can I persuade you to trust me that this is important?”

  “I have no trust for you, Joanna,” Risky said. “Was raised by Russians, and I know that everyone lies. Let us trade truths, instead. You say that if I cooperate, Tom lives. Prove it.”

  “Ah, the mark of Cosa Nova,” Kohn said. Risky watched her lean back in the soft office chair, assuming the “power position.” They eyed each other speculatively. “Always bargaining, just like your previous lover. Matricardi was a dangerous man. Dominguez was a dangerous man. And still I manipulated them, defeated them. Just as I have outmaneuvered Smith. Come now, Miss Khabayeva, are we so different? Already you have moved easily from one strong leader to another. You can do so again. Do the Russians not appreciate a winner? Consider the advantages of cooperation. Consider how my interests are served if both you and Smith ally yourselves to me. Of course, that assumes that Smith is as good as he thinks he is, and actually secures a hydroelectric facility, despite all obstacles. He might fail, and you might lose your chance to bargain with me now, tonight.”

  This bitch loves to talk. Time to irritate her a bit more.

  “Tom will not fail,” Risky replied confidently, measuring her moment. “Does not know how. When Tom returns, he will bargain from outside gate, with forces you cannot stop. He will have soldiers. He will have a victory to persuade your camp.”

  “I do not appreciate your tone, Risky,” Joanna said, anger creeping into her tone. Her pen continued to beat against the desk. “You seem to believe that I have not thought this through.” Tap, tap. “You are here now. Not Smith. This could work to your advantage, personally. The path of the future is set, and what remains to be determined is if you will be in it. No longer will the privileged few, chosen by economic lottery, impose their rule on our new society. Women with my…perspective…are better suited to guide a new society as it rises from the wreckage of the old system. It is my turn now.” Tap, tap. “Maybe it can be your turn too, Risky.”

  Risky looked around the room. Down at the plastic sheet. Back up at Kohn’s smug expression.

  “No, don’t think so,” she replied confidently. “If you want to persuade his friends to give up Tom, must find someone else to, how did they say on Wall Street? Ah yes, shill for you.”

  “You are close to Tom.” The pen tapped again. “Your feelings are understandable. Everyone has sacrificed. I lost many of my most trusted people. How many of our foragers have failed to return from supply runs? Even Kendra lost someone special when Paul bravely volunteered to test the new vaccine on himself, and turned. But she has come to understand.”

  Risky looked at Kohn and decided.

  Now.

  She reached into her pocket for her secret weapon.

  * * *

  “Are you sure about this, man?” Randall asked as they crunched along the gravel path.

  “What part of this isn’t clear?” Worf replied. “Kohn has built a tidy little cult of personality. Risky is gonna run a de-cap op. Astro is helping her. For this to work, we gotta take out a couple levels at once.”

  “Schweizer isn’t going to play along,” Randall said. “He knows that as soon as Kohn is out, his goose is cooked.”

  “So we wait for him to come remind us that it’s curfew,” Worf said, surreptitiously raising his shirt to display the pistol under his belt. “He comes inside and that’s that. Then we get to the admin building and back Astro’s play.”

  “Works for me,” Randall said, patting his kukri. “You did say it was a decapitation op, right? Rune would approve.”

  * * *

  “What?” Risky turned around to face her escort. “You really believe Paul is dead? I thought that you were playing—Paul Rune is fine, he isn’t dead.”

  Kendra had remained quiet during the interview so far, keeping her pistol at the low ready, her two-handed grip firm.

  She didn’t say anything in reply, yet somehow the silence became freighted with meaning.

  “Of course he is!” insisted Joanna. “We all saw him turn. Once we were certain, he was taken outside the wire and humanely extinguished.”

  “Extinguished,” Risky said with a snort. She looked to Kendra, ignoring the gun. “Is new way to say murdered? I saw Paul two days ago. He’s healthy, and working for Smith.”

  “How?” Kendra’s said huskily. “How do I know that you aren’t lying?”

  She wasn’t talking to Kohn.

  “Of course she is lying, Miss Jones; she will say anything,” Kohn said, her anger plain now. The fountain pen beat a brisk tattoo. “If she persists, shoot.”

  Kendra’s eyes flicked back and forth between the other two women.

  “Miss Khabayeva, this is your last chance,” Joanna said, standing decisively. “Support me. Help me guide the others, Copley and Randall, for example. They can take over the military aspect. We will find something safe for Smith. Even you can have a place here on my staff.” The pen tapping paused and Kohn eyed the plastic sheeting meaningfully. “Or you can end up in a ditch.”

  “Didn’t know that you guys were a thing, but now this makes sense,” Risky said. She completely ignored Kohn, directing her words to her erstwhile guard. She stood even more hipshot, and her left hand, finding the item that had been left in her pocket, slowly withdrew it. “Paul asked me to give you this. He said you would understand.”

  Risky held a fine gold chain out at arm’s length, letting it dangle. The desk lamp struck a single golden highlight from the medallion as it spun slowly.

  For a moment, all three of them just looked at.

  The woman behind the desk looked puzzled, lacking comprehension. The woman who dangled the pendant smirked with satisfaction, but held very still, watching her target. This weapon was for the third member of the audience, the woman holding the gun.

  * * *

  Kendra stepped forward with her left hand outstretched, palm facing Risky, guarding the pistol that she now held low against her right hip, safe from any lunge or grab. The little Saint Joshua medallion that she’d returned to Paul was unmistakable. Slowly she rotated her outthrust hand until it was palm up. She felt the familiar pendant touch her skin as Risky lowered it all the way, the weight kissing Kendra’s palm.

  “How…?” she stuttered.

  “They didn’t give him bad vaccine or live virus,” Risky said. To Kendra, it seemed like Risky’s eyes glowed like little suns as the two stared at each other, and then the amulet. “Was synthetic drug, K2 or Spice or some shitty Chinese import. Something that one of the scavengers brought back early on. Primary symptoms look just like second stage flu.” Risky finished lowering the medallion into Kendra’s han
d. “Would be convincing and involuntary performance.”

  Kendra continued to finger the medallion, feeling the texture under her fingers as Risky slowly turned back to face Kohn across the desk.

  “This amateur dictator fancied Paul from start, apparently,” Risky said, finally turning back to face Kohn, her wide grin feline. “Had plans for him. He declined and that was unacceptable. Wasn’t it, Joanna? Or do you insist on ‘Acting Administrator’?”

  Kohn stared back at the taller woman, finally getting it. She wasn’t impressed.

  “Fine,” Kohn said, hissing the word. “Kendra, shoot her now.”

  Kendra heard the command, but her mind was racing ahead, following the logic, one step at a time.

  Paul was alive? Could this be a trick? The Russian woman would say anything to protect her man. Any woman would. Was Kohn lying? She’d lied before. This really was the medal. The actual medal.

  It had to be true.

  The office door jerked partially open and then closed itself with a loud clack, surprising all three women. It opened again, and Kendra shifted her aim, waiting to see who entered. Cathe Astroga awkwardly stepped through, her load banging the door frame, making even more noise. The little specialist grinned at everyone and then looked at the floor.

  “Oh crap, you already have plastic,” she said, dropping her bundle. However, her unbalanced load swung and this time she banged a wooden shovel handle against a wall. “Sheesh. Didn’t need all this.”

  “What are you doing here?” Kohn demanded. “What is all this?!”

  “This?” Astroga said, waggling the hand carrying a bottle of bleach. “I’m here to help clean up. You know, for after we kill you!”

  Kendra thought it through. There was no way for Risky to have the medallion that didn’t begin with Paul giving it to her. And Paul had it when he was infected.