God Country

by S T Branton

  “Hello, hello!” A booming laugh freed itself from his throat and soared above our heads. “I’m the general, and that’s what you can call me.” He waved his men off, striding directly up to the gate. “Looks like we’ve got a good-sized crowd here. Well, the more, the merrier.” He gave a signal, and the guard on the right punched a code into a panel. Immediately, the gates disengaged.

  “Wait,” I said. Everything had sudden happened so fast. “You’re letting us in?” My brain knew this was the optimal outcome, but I’d also been ready to deal with the very real possibility of rejection. Or at least an argument.

  “Of course we are,” he exclaimed as though anything else was absurd. “There’s plenty of space for everyone. This was a functional military base, you know.” He chuckled. “I suppose it still is, in a way. After all, the resistance is in full swing, and it’s groups like yours and mine that form the backbone. I can’t very well turn away a fellow fighter.” His look became abruptly meaningful. “And I know you’re a fighter, young lady.”

  “I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” I answered. “And the name’s Vic.” The weight of the man’s eyes centered squarely on me, but I refused to back down.

  “Ha! That’s quite right, Vic. But you’ll be perfectly safe here. Not to worry. I do have one non-negotiable stipulation.” He surveyed us all. “You must surrender your weapons. No exceptions.” One of his bushy eyebrows quirked upward. “In the event of an attack, you’ll be able to retrieve them, but they will be under lock and key at all other times. They will not be handled by anyone else after lockup, and it goes without saying that there will be no tampering. On that, you have my word.” The General said these things somberly, projecting an air of utmost seriousness, but the thought of giving up the Gladius Solis made my stomach churn.

  “No exceptions at all?” I kept my voice as even as possible.

  “None.” The general patted his hip in the same place that the Gladius Solis hung in its sheath on mine. “Make no mistake, my newest friend. We know all about your exploits in the city. That security feed from City Hall was plastered all over the news for at least a week.” Another smile worked its way onto his face. The corners of his eyes crinkled. “We know exactly who you are. What we don’t know is what you are, or what your plan is. But I like your moxie, and for now, that’s good enough.”

  Well, shit. The guy had had me pegged from the beginning. I couldn’t help feeling like the underdog in an unfair game, but there was nothing we could do. The hundred people waiting at my back would all end up victims if I decided to let impulse and stupidity prevail.

  “Understood,” I told him. “Please excuse us for a moment while we confer.”

  “By all means.” He moved back, and I drew my team around me. Frank, Steph, and Jules had made their way to the front of the masses, and they jumped in as soon as they saw the huddle.

  “Who’s the brass?” Frank wanted to know. “Did he say we’re not allowed? I can rough him up for ya.”

  I frowned. “No, Frank. He said the opposite. He’s letting us in…if we give him all our weapons.”

  “Are you crazy?” His volume rose briefly out of control. He reined himself in with an awkward grimace. “Sorry, sorry. But you’re outta your mind if you hand that sword over. I guarantee you’ll never see it again.” He made a slicing motion with the flat of his hand. “Done. Out of sight. Forever.”

  “He’s right, for once,” Deacon said. “We don’t know for sure that these aren’t the wrong hands. Even if they don’t want to use it to help the other side, there’s a lot that sword is capable of.”

  Victoria, know that I trust your choices implicitly, but I feel compelled to inform you that letting go of Kronin’s sword is an act that many would consider inconceivable.

  “I know,” I said in response to both. “Nobody knows that better than me. But there’s no way I can leave these people in the lurch after we brought them all the way here. There’d be a riot.”

  “That’s probably also true,” Deacon admitted.

  I sighed. “Then it’s settled. I’ll give them the sword, and if they won’t give it back, I’ll beat their asses until they do. That sounds like a fair compromise to me.”

  Steph looked like she really wanted to say something, but whatever it was, she held it back. I saw she and Deacon exchange a glance in the instant before I turned back to the general.

  “What will it be?” he asked, smiling like he already knew.

  “We agree to your terms.” I unfastened the sword hilt from my belt and placed it carefully into the massive lockbox they’d already wheeled out during our deliberations.

  The man nodded approvingly. “Excellent. A wise choice by a wise and undoubtedly powerful leader.” He beckoned me toward the door with a sweep of his arm. “Shall we?”

  The sounds of my team putting their weapons into the fort’s apparently impenetrable lockbox echoed in my ears. Strangely unencumbered for the first time since the very beginning, I followed our host through the entrance to his stronghold.

  Just inside, the general paused. Then he turned to me and, in a voice that rang with pride, proclaimed, “Welcome to Fort Sigel.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  No sooner had we crossed the threshold than the old soldier whisked me off for a tour of the place. Deacon and the others had to jog to catch up. Our heads constantly swiveled, taking in the sheer enormity of the fort. As imposing as it had seemed from the outside, the interior felt ten times bigger. A mazelike network of stark corridors connected room after room.

  “We’re in a very good spot here at Fort Sigel, as you can see,” our guide said, beaming like a college tour guide. “Plenty of accommodations, plenty of food, plenty of high spirits.” He led us up to an enormous, high-ceilinged chamber lined with benches tucked under sturdy metal tables. “The mess hall. There are enough rations back there to last us months—maybe years if we’re careful. The kitchen’s not exactly state-of-the-art, but it gets the job done. Obviously, we have people here at the fort who take care of these things, but if you ask nicely, I bet you could talk your way onto kitchen duty.”

  Jules blinked. “You have food for months?”

  The general turned his blinding smile on her. “That’s right.” He chuckled slightly. “People tend to forget that a situation like this stopped being impossible the moment we invented WMDs. Hell, you’re probably too young to really remember it, but there were times in history when it seemed inevitable. We’ve been prepared for the worst for a long, long time. Seems all those paranoid scenarios have finally come to pass.” He ran a hand over his brow. “I have to tell you, I never thought it’d look like this, though.”

  He brought us to the main barracks, an entire wing of residential space devoted to rooms of varying sizes. The largest ones had nothing but rows of simple army bunks, each with a chest for personal items at the foot. A far cry from luxury, but in a lot of respects, it was even better than my junky old loft in Brooklyn Heights. For starters, the bathrooms all had functioning doors.

  “I have a question, sir,” Dan said as we left the barracks behind.

  “Fire away,” the general said cheerfully. The smile hadn’t left his face since the start of our walking tour, and anyone who came into contact with him, however briefly, got a good dose of it.

  The soldier looked around. “Forgive me if I’m speaking out of turn, sir, but for a fort this size, there aren’t very many soldiers. Who keeps the operation running, and where are they?”

  “Ah.” The old soldier rubbed his hands together. “Interested in the nitty-gritty, are you? A man after my own heart.”

  We passed through a large, harshly lit atrium, and he spread his arms wide. Little clumps of people gathered everywhere, sitting and talking, reading, or writing. The atmosphere was infused with a blanketing sense of calm, the opposite of the unbridled chaos we had fought through to get there.

  “The company I’ve assembled to keep Fort Sigel afloat are all hidden gears in a well-oil
ed machine, and that’s a hundred percent by design. I want those who come here seeking shelter, like yourselves, to know they’re safe and to feel the safety. And I think that’s easier when the magic stays hidden, so to speak.”

  At this point, our troop passed a rare window, which offered a view of little more than thick greenery and pale, overcast sky. The general nodded toward the glass. “All I mean is, I don’t like to freak people out with an excessive show of force. You understand, Dan. The realities of military living can be difficult for the average civilian to process. Fort Sigel is meant to invite, not intimidate.”

  Dan looked vaguely puzzled. “There are more soldiers, then?” he ventured.

  The officer guffawed. “Dan, my boy, a general is nothing without his army! Of course, there are more—many more than it would seem at first glance—but speaking from one commander to another, they’ve got to be managed in the right way, or what good would they do me?” He tapped the side of his head. “I keep my boys on regulated rotations, which are active one at a time. If they’re not on duty, they’re asleep. That’s what most of them are doing at any given time, truth be told. I need ʼem fresh at any hour. Got to keep them on their toes.”

  “The barracks we saw was empty,” Deacon interjected. He eyed the man with mistrust.

  “Oh, they don’t stay in the main building.” The man made a dismissive motion. “This is for guests of the fort. The guard detail is housed inside the auxiliary barracks to prevent upheaval during shift changes. All to keep the ship sailing smoothly.” He came to a door at the end of a long hall that was held shut by a long bar. “Now, we’ve started to cultivate some of our own renewable resources in recent weeks.” A shadow crossed his genial features. “Personally, I had hoped this wouldn’t be strictly necessary, but things don’t look promising.” Unlatching the bar, he pushed the door open, and I caught a pungent whiff from the cloud of brown dust kicked up by the swinging motion.

  Steph wrinkled her nose. “Is that fertilizer?” she muttered under her breath. The brown dust cleared, and her eyes widened. “Cows?”

  Victoria, I believe I have at last located the beef. Perhaps Abraxzael has already learned of its existence.

  I forced myself to keep a reasonable poker face and thought very hard at Marcus to shut up. “I’m impressed that you’re raising livestock,” I said out loud, and it was true. The last thing I’d expected to see this deep in the overgrown wilderness was a fledgling farm run by the remnants of the local military.

  The general pointed into the distance toward a boundary line that was barely visible from where we stood. “A garden’s been planted in that back area there. Still mostly seedlings, but it’s a start. We’re trying to stay ahead of the game. Planning for the long term, in case this storm doesn’t blow over.”

  I gave the surroundings another long look. “It seems like you’re doing pretty well for the time being. Better than I would’ve expected out here.”

  “That much, we owe to the government,” he explained. “Fort Sigel was originally built as a haven for top officials during times of intense crisis. We’re not talking Camp David level here, but not too far behind. They thought mostly about congressmen and their families at the time.” He stopped talking for a minute, and his expression eased back into solemnity. “When we heard that things were going south all over, we put out the call that Fort Sigel was open and ready to receive. We were prepared to be stampeded. But nobody showed.”

  Deacon, Steph, and I all frowned at the same time. “Really?” Steph said. “No one?”

  “Does that mean nothing went down in D.C.?” the agent asked.

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” the general admitted, shrugging his broad shoulders. “That’s what we’d all like to think, but—”

  “Why attack New York City and not the nation’s capital?” Dan asked.

  “That’s the million-dollar question, and unfortunately, we still don’t have any kind of answer.” He sighed deeply. “But like I said, nobody came, so we turned to short-wave radio. Thought maybe we could fish out as many wandering survivors as possible before they were lost in the mountains. On the first day, I was sure it wouldn’t work, and then, wouldn’t you know it? People came out of the forest left and right, rattled the gates, and shouted at the guards to let them in. It’s been a long time since I last saw folks so desperate.” After a beat of silence, his face lightened again. “I suppose I can’t complain, though. We’ve built our own little slice of heaven out here. It’s not half bad if you don’t think about it too hard.” His booming laughter rolled across the livestock pen and over the grass toward the new garden.

  I stared after the sound at the threads of mist still hanging in the sky and the thick, gray blanket of clouds. The barely visible fence tracked far to the right, and along its inside perimeter, I noticed the shape of a second building nestled in the trees. “What’s that?” I asked.

  He traced the line of my gaze. “That’s off-limits,” was the answer I got. He didn’t speak unkindly, and his eyes still sparkled. “To everyone, that is. Even me.”

  I blinked. “Is there anyone here who’s higher on the totem pole than you?”

  He shook his head. “Negative, but the stuff that’s in there—or that used to be in there—is above my pay grade. Only for emergencies, and only for those with the proper clearance.”

  “Not you?” I asked.

  The general grinned. “Not me. Call it our own little Situation Room. I always thought it was in a bad location, myself, but I guess if you get all the way up to the top, you can damn near see the whole fort.” He turned to me. “I can’t get in, so don’t ask. As far as I know, there’s never been a key. The whole thing simply…looms over there.” He gave it one more second of scrutiny and pivoted on his heel. “Anyway, that’s about that. I’d like to encourage you to rest up as much as you like. I bet this is your first opportunity to do that in a while. Except you, Dan.” He clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I want you and your men to come with me. I have some new orders to hand down. As long as you’re here, you’re under my watch.”

  The soldier saluted. “Sir, yes, sir!”

  We filed back into the fort’s inner rooms, winding through the labyrinth of halls until we reached the central atrium. I recognized some of the faces milling about the room—women with babies on their hips and young children clinging to their legs, old people snoring in chairs, kids chasing each other around the bare floor.

  “This is where we part ways, Vic,” the general said, pausing his stride to address me. “Take this time to really soak in that R and R. Tomorrow, you’ll all be expected to pitch in to get the feast ready. You’ve arrived just in time.”

  “The what?” Just as I asked that my empty stomach growled.

  “It’s been a long, hard road for all of us to get here,” he explained. “We’ve planned a feast to celebrate our success. It goes without saying that you and yours are all invited. Think of it as a morale booster for the troops in the middle of a long tour of duty.”

  “We sure could use that,” Jules declared gratefully. “Thank you for all your hospitality, General. We’re indebted.”

  “Not at all,” he told her. “Just fighters looking out for fighters.” And with that, he and Dan moved down another hallway, their footsteps fading quickly.

  Steph scoffed. “A feast? Are you kidding? That sounds like a waste of rations to me.” She folded her arms. “Probably just MREs anyway.” She looked at Deacon. “I think that guy is screwy somehow. Why would he want to use food that could otherwise sustain the population of this fort for months?”

  “Aw, come on!” Frank, who had lain low in the back for the better part of the last hour, suddenly came to life. “Don’t be such a sourpuss, lady. The blonde—the other blonde—is right. The people need this. It’s harmless fun.”

  “Harmless?” Steph glared daggers at the mobster. “Since when is reckless consumption of finite resources considered harmless? The general’s out of his da
mn gourd if he thinks his little micro farm is gonna be enough to support everyone in here. Not to mention that we just added a hundred mouths to the equation.”

  “So what?” Frank shot back, lifting his brick of a chin. “He don’t seem like a crackpot to me. I say we let him do his thing.”

  “And this is why you’re not in charge.” Steph threw her hands up. “How can you not see that this is fucked up? We can’t call in for refills when the pantry’s empty.”

  “I bet you’re real frickin’ fun at parties,” he retorted sullenly. “Ever heard of a little somethin’ called nourishin’ the human spirit?”

  The agent barked out a laugh, tossing her sleek golden locks. “Oh, please do tell me all about it. I cannot wait to hear this.” Her fingertips tapped out a sharp staccato beat on her elbow, the equivalent of a cat lashing its tail.

  “Okay, okay, okay.” I maneuvered myself between them, my arms outstretched to preserve precious personal space. “Put a lid on it, you guys. This isn’t worth brawling over.” I faced Steph. “I get where you’re coming from, but we are technically guests here. Not our fort, not our rules.”

  She huffed, her nostrils flaring. “Fine. It’s still dumb as hell.”

  “So don’t stuff your face!” Frank suggested. “No one’s forcin’ you to do shit, Secret Agent Barbie.”

  “Frank,” I said sternly. “Not cool.” I could hear Steph crack her slowly knuckles one by one.

  He shuffled back a little. “Sorry.”

  “Everybody take a deep breath.” I filled my lungs and let the exhale pull some of the tension from my shoulders. “Let’s…cool down for a while. We’re safe now. I don’t know about you guys, but I need a shower badly.”

  “Same here,” Deacon agreed. He looked like he was smirking slightly, maybe from Frank’s last jab at his partner. “Catch you later, Vic.”

  “Don’t get into trouble,” I replied. He walked away, and I directed my attention toward the mobster. “That goes for you too. Got it? No antagonizing Steph. I won’t be here to tell her not to kneecap you with her bare hands.”