The After War

by Brandon Zenner

  Silas stood. “Okay, let’s get you ready.”

  Silas and another soldier wheeled Brian out the door and secured his stretcher on the flatbed of an idling pickup truck. Bethany and Carolanne sat on either side of him, along with Dr. Morris and another soldier. Silas closed the rear door and smacked it with his palm. “Have a safe trip.”

  “Silas.” Brian tried to look up, but a shooting pain from his injured rib made him rest back down. “Thank you for everything.”

  Silas nodded and walked off.

  There was another pickup truck in the lead loaded with soldiers. The first truck started moving down the dirt driveway, and then their own truck inched forward. The vibration coming through the truck bed rattled the pain into a frenzy throughout his body.

  Brian could see the outside of Ingrid Snow’s house—her cabin set in the woods. A dozen or so soldiers walked about her property, looking over maps, having discussions. The old lady was shuffling to a chicken coop on the side of her yard. Smoke from her chimney rose and dissipated in the clear sky, and soon, his view of the cabin disappeared.

  Dr. Morris leaned forward with a needle. “This will help you sleep through the ride. It’s a bit bumpy.” He injected Brian, and then put the needle away.

  Carolanne was brushing her windblown hair out of her face, smiling as bright as the sun shining through the branches overhead, flicking its warmth on Brian’s face.

  “I ate a chocolate chip cookie,” he said, and heard her laughter as the drugs started kicking in.

  Carolanne’s hand touched his own, the fingers coiling around his palm.

  “I just remembered something,” Brian said, his eyes shutting.

  “What’s that?”

  “Something that came to my mind when I first woke up. It was you … you were one of my first thoughts; that I might never see you again.”

  Carolanne smiled and blushed in front of the other passengers in the back of the pickup truck. Sleep was coming fast, but he felt Carolanne squeeze his hand tight, and fingers combed back his hair. Overhead, the sky was a brilliant blue and the sun felt warm on his skin.

  Chapter 33

  Eyes of the Damned

  As the seasons changed, the dying land reborn, Steven himself emerged as something reinvigorated. His body had mended and the tormented thoughts that once had plagued him were vanquished. With the passing of time, and help from Captain Black, he had grown to understand that in order to master his fears he must accept his mind for what it was.

  That night when he and Brian had seen the town from high above seemed like a distant memory—an event that never happened.

  Brian was dead. And that uncle of his was probably dead as well. If not, what did it matter? Uncle Al had left him to fend for himself in a decaying and diseased world that wanted to kill him at every step.

  Where had Uncle Al been his entire life? This uncle—his own family—had not only deserted him in the end, but had deserted him ever since he was a child. No one ever loved him. Maybe his sister did, but she had moved away a long time ago, and what did it matter now? She was dead along with the rest. Steven was alone. He had been alone for a long time. His only friend, his cousin, the man he once called brother, had left him for dead on the cold ground …

  Steven shook the thoughts away.

  It was rare these days that he gave Brian, Uncle Al, or his sister any thought at all. At first, they were all that he could think about, but over time he attained peace by accepting that they were out of his life for good. Finally, he could make his own choices. Be his own man, without the interference of his know-it-all cousin.

  He was strong now, stronger than he had been when down in the bunker—or even before. Captain Black had explained that taking hold of that rage inside of him was not such a bad thing after all. His seeing red was a thing to be proud of, not ashamed about. It meant he could tap into his true inner strength, unleash the storming fury that most men had a difficult time mustering.

  He owed these men a lot—his soon-to-be brothers. Not only had they saved his life, but they had nursed him into an even better man than he had once been. A man no longer ashamed of who he was. A man no longer afraid of demons in the night.

  As Steven walked down the main street with the corpses on either side, he was reminded of what Captain Black had told him.

  “Lad,” he had said, “this is the way the world works. Don’t you think any different about it. These bodies here are just things and nothing else. They are what remain of those who stood in our way, who wanted to take from us our very lives. Don’t think for a moment that any of these rotting, putrid corpses would not have crucified you if given the chance.

  “We’re living in a world where you either dangle the noose or put your own neck against the rope. That choice is up to you. If you want to die, get yourself killed, go right ahead. I won’t stop you. There’s plenty dead—more dead than alive. What’s one more to their numbers? Now, if you want to live—and live well, not like some starving cretin—you heed my words and advice: lend us that strength inside you, and become a member of our community. You, Steven, belong here as one of General Karl Metzger’s fearless soldiers.”

  Those words rang true in Steven’s ears. Karl Metzger knew things that Steven did not. He could teach Steven things that he yearned to know. The men in Odyssey could teach him how to survive, how to become fearless.

  It was time to join their brotherhood, their family.

  And that’s where Steven was heading—to the sandy lot before Odyssey’s police station where he could now see Captain Black waiting for him along with a number of men. Karl was among their numbers, and so were his lieutenants, all standing in a half-moon formation.

  Steven flicked his cigarette to the ground and walked before them. A light wind swept up the dusty sand.

  “So,” Captain Black said, walking toward Steven while brushing the grit from his battered hat. “You stand before us, ready to join in our ranks?”

  Steven nodded.

  “Stout lad as you may be, it’s a formality to display your devotion to our organization. Are you prepared to do so?”

  Steven again nodded.

  Captain Black turned, his hands clasped behind his back, and motioned to his men. A moment later, the half-moon wall of soldiers parted, and two armed guards dragged forth a ragged and battered prisoner—a putrid and loathsome worm. He was shoved wild-eyed to the center of the dirt lot and thrown to his hands and knees before Steven’s feet. Steven could smell the awfulness wafting from this man in waves, and a spike of anger went off within him.

  The captain stared at Steven. “This man has been found guilty of crimes against our society and of society-at-large. He fought against us in battle and he has lost. His being alive is in direct violation of the laws of humanity.”

  One of the guards produced two rusty and battered machetes and tossed them to the ground between Steven and the ragged man. The man jumped at the blade and held it waveringly toward Steven, his body jerking and his hands trembling. Steven didn’t move, only stared at the man.

  “Steven,” the captain said, walking back to the gathering along with the two guards. “Add another body to the line on the road. Be the great man you deserve to be, who you always were. Embrace yourself.”

  The ragged man’s eyes were watering, looking up at the towering Steven Driscoll, whose biceps were wider than the man’s legs. The man collapsed on his knees, his hands clasped before him.

  “Oh, Jesus Christ,” he said, and Steven stepped toward him.

  The End of Part I

  Journeys Conclude and Others Begin

  Far to the east of Odyssey, where Steven contemplated the course of actions that would further seal his fate, lay the town and people of Alice. A wheel had been set in motion that could not be stopped or hindered, for the lives of many would soon be decided by the choices of a few. Simon Kalispell and Brian Rhodes were not yet aware, but the strength that resided inside them would soon be tested, and destiny wil
l call for their lives to be forever intertwined.

  Part II

  Fire Horizons

  Chapter 34

  Tom and Nick

  Nick tapped his papers together on the table and stood, securing them to a clipboard. Martin Howard had just finished outlining his presentation to bring solar power to all of Zone Blue by mid-year the following year, but Nick wasn’t buying it. Martin’s team had not yet brought solar power to the apartment building, and that job should have been finished three months ago. How did he expect to convert the entire town?

  Martin and his promises.

  Martin and his diplomas, his schooling, all amounting to nothing.

  A college degree was as good as tinder for the fire.

  As second-in-command after his father, Nick Byrnes had vetoed Project Yellow, denying Martin Howard and his team permission to begin construction. While Nick did want the town of Alice to lose its reliance on Zone Red’s supply of oil and gasoline, he felt Project Yellow required too many able-bodied men—the same men who should be building and fortifying the town’s defenses.

  Attacks on the town were still common. Although the small bands of marauders never broke through the perimeter, danger was still out there, still real—a certainty. The vast majority of attackers had no idea they were charging into a well-defended town, but Nick knew the day would come when a group of intelligent adversaries would pose a real threat to the town’s safety, and when that day came, Nick wanted Alice to be ready. He didn’t want to ever have to say, “I told you so.”

  Every available body and all of the town’s resources should be used to construct taller guard towers, additional bunkers, and strengthened walls in the labyrinth of trenches that barricaded the town from the wild beyond. Project Yellow could wait. Solar power could wait. Zone Red kept them well-supplied with gasoline, and the buildings that needed power were not in danger of running out of fuel. Not by a long shot.

  Nick had said this all before. And it had fallen on deaf ears.

  The men comprising the Round Table—the men elected to lead Zone Blue and all of Alice—were proving themselves to be old, incompetent, and useless. Giving them an equal vote in serious matters—with only Nick’s father able to veto—was a terrible idea. They trusted the aged defenses of the town, which had not been upgraded since the Zone was first established. One day they were all going to be sorry they had not heeded the warnings of Nicholas Byrnes.

  “All right, gentlemen,” Nick said, addressing the six men around the table. “Is there anything else?”

  The men all shook their heads, and Martin began removing his diagrams and blueprints from the easel.

  A guard opened the door for Nick to pass, and when Nick looked over his shoulder, he saw the familiar barrel chest and white hair of his father, Tom Byrnes—the general—at his heels. Nick looked at his watch.

  “Lights out in half an hour.”

  His father nodded.

  “Don’t you think we’re pushing these meetings a little late?”

  “Don’t put off until tomorrow what you can accomplish today, son. These meetings are important. We’ll do them by candlelight if need be. Hopefully soon, we’ll have enough solar panels to not worry about such things.”

  Nick rolled his eyes. Or maybe Zone Red can give us enough fucking gasoline to get through the nights.

  “Martin’s presentation went well, wouldn’t you say?”

  Nick shrugged.

  “I know this project has never been at the top of your agenda,” Tom said. “But it’s important that the people in Alice have electricity and hot water twenty-four hours a day.”

  “Yes,” Nick agreed. “It is important. Imperative, even. But until we have the town’s defenses running at their greatest potential, we shouldn’t be wasting our resources on such extravagances. Defense first, comfort later.”

  “I agree with you, Nick. However, the people need reassurance. They need to know that we’re constantly progressing. A hot shower at any time of night and electricity whenever it’s needed will give the people hope, something to fight for. It’s not enough for the town to be running at a tolerable level. We must always be advancing.”

  “We can have electricity twenty-four hours, if only—” Nick cut himself short. It was pointless raising the same argument over and over. “Besides,” he continued, “the people of Alice should still be impressed with the progress we made at the reservoir. Running water—clean, filtered, running water—all throughout Alice. Water. Is that not the greatest achievement we could ask for?”

  “Yes,” Tom agreed. “But we fixed the reservoir over a year ago. The people need to see progress at every opportunity.”

  What people really need, Nick thought, is security and safety. Even if they don’t see the reinforced bunkers and trenches on a daily basis. Those are the improvements they should be thankful for.

  They were walking down the dim hallway in Alice Elementary School toward the double doors at the end. The school served as a hub for Zone Blue’s administrative staff and as a learning facility for the few children who resided in Alice.

  It was nice this time of night, Nick thought, when it was dark outside and the hallways in the school were deserted, with only a few emergency lights illuminating the corridor at intervals. Tom and Nick were quiet, listening to their footfalls resound on the linoleum tiles until they neared the exit. They pushed the door open, feeling the cool night air wash over them.

  A guard outside nodded. “Sir,” he said, addressing them both.

  Nick nodded and Tom smiled, saying, “Good night, Richard.”

  “Good night, sir.”

  They walked to the edge of the schoolyard, where one out of every three streetlights remained lit. Tom squinted at his watch. “Want to grab dinner?” he asked. “They’ll just be putting it away now. We have time before lights-out.”

  Nick shook his head. “Nah, you go ahead if you like. I’ll eat at home.”

  Out of the shadows they both saw a figure, a soldier, jogging toward them. They stopped where they were under the streetlight until the man was within earshot.

  “Sir,” he stopped and saluted.

  “Yes,” Tom said. “What is it?”

  “We have reports of possible movement. Section Three.”

  Tom nodded. There were reports of movement often, and it usually amounted to nothing; but still, it had to be inspected.

  “Inform Frank Morrow,” Tom said. “Have him send some Rangers to check it out.”

  My dad and his beloved Rangers, Nick thought.

  The Rangers were comprised of men who were adept at hunting and stalking and had distinguished themselves as being capable of moving about undetected in the woods. They were not as tough as Nick’s brigade, his Dragoons, named after the cavalries of old, but Nick had to agree with his father’s decision. Sending the Rangers to inspect the disturbance was the best call.

  The soldier said, “Frank is still away on hunt, sir.”

  “That’s right,” Tom remembered. The Rangers, along with the town’s farms, were responsible for supplying Alice with their fresh meat. “Get Kalispell then. Have him assemble a team. Now.”

  “Yes, sir.” The soldier saluted, and took off in the shadows.

  Simon Kalispell, Nick thought. Dad’s little prodigy.

  In the time since Simon had arrived in Alice, over a year ago, he had climbed the ranks. He was now second-in-command under Frank Morrow, a middle-aged Special Forces soldier who led the Rangers. Simon had no military background whatsoever, and it infuriated Nick to no end that he had been promoted to second-in-charge. But, he had to admit that Simon’s abilities in the wilderness were unmatched, and Simon had the love and respect of his peers. Besides, the Rangers were not strictly a fighting force. They were best at reconnaissance and hunting.

  “Well, Dad, good night.”

  Tom shook Nick’s hand, and Nick walked out from under the streetlight.

  “Good night, son.”

  After a t
wo-block walk, Nick arrived home. His residence was half of a subdivided house bordering the large, rectangular brick apartment building that housed the soldiers and residents. Some of the officers and delegates were allotted homes bordering the barracks, but not many.

  He opened the door and walked in the kitchen tired, hungry, and weary. A familiar voice called out from the bedroom, hoarse with sleep.

  “Nick? Is that you?”

  Nick closed his eyes, his temples throbbing. Who else would it be?

  “It’s me,” he answered. “I’m home. Go back to sleep.”

  He heard the mattress creak from the bedroom, and Stephanie came to the doorway, tying her silk robe around her waist.

  “How was your day?” she asked, yawning. Her dark hair was tousled with sleep.

  “Fine,” Nick answered, swinging his AK-47 off his shoulder and leaning it against the table. He undid the clasp of his leather holster belt and placed it on the table. Nick carried a brown Smith & Wesson .357 revolver, the black metal clean and polished, and the sleek brown handle gleaming out from the holster. The belt was an old-fashioned brown police belt, which held the pistol low on his hip. The town had a large arsenal of automatic pistols, but Nick felt his sidearm made him distinguished. And it did. His pistol and belt were iconic among the residents, along with his pressed military fatigues, always tucked in and fitted around his tall, strong frame.

  Stephanie stood behind Nick as he sat in a chair, untying the laces of his boots. She smoothed back his dark hair.

  “Tough day?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Was it your father again? I’m sorry, baby, you deserve so much more. You deserve—”

  “Stephanie, honey.” Nick closed his eyes against the drumming in his temples. “Now isn’t a good time.”

  Stephanie backed away. She knew better than to anger Nick when he was in one of his moods. She was lucky to have him—the prize catch in all of Alice.

  “Okay, baby. Okay.” She walked back toward the bedroom. “I left a can of soup on the counter, if you’re hungry.”