Glimmer of Hope: Book 1 of Post-Apocalyptic Series

by Ryan King

  Luke walked over and put his finger on Huntsville. “But why would they attack us at all? We’re not bothering them. They seem to be somewhat organized and have food and electricity. Why come after us?”

  “Not sure,” said Nathan, “but Milan shows they are. Or they think they can come in and take from us without any consequence. I strongly suspect that reports of Vincent Lacert being in charge down there might be true. If that’s the case, he’ll come after us, because I don’t think he ever lets go of a grudge.”

  “I wish we had reached out to them before Vincent took over, if in fact that’s who’s in charge.”

  “Either way, they’ve attacked us,” said Luke. “We can’t let Milan go unanswered. They killed our people and stole from us.”

  “We don’t even know their strength or capabilities yet.”

  “With any luck, Joshua will help us in that regard.”

  Nathan gave him a frown. “You know I don’t like him being down there.”

  “I know, but he knows what he’s doing. Besides, he has Conrad to look out for him.”

  Nathan blew air out of his mouth. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

  Luke shrugged and turned back to the board. “WTR is still in shambles. We forcibly disbanded all their military forces after Fulton. In hindsight, that might have been a mistake.”

  “We couldn’t trust them.”

  “I know,” said Luke, “but the WTR is becoming the wild west with gangs and crime and whatnot. Each county down there at a minimum needs the authority to organize its own county regiment, just like in the JP. They will also at least serve as a speed bump if Huntsville does invade.”

  “What about our own forces?”

  “If there were an opposite term for ‘high alert,’ that would describe them right now.”

  “Because of planting season?”

  “To some degree,” answered Luke. “Everyone is also kind of sick of fighting after the last couple of years. It’s become harder and harder to get recruits, especially with the JP blocking refugees. That used to be a prime source of soldiers.” Luke looked sheepishly at Nathan before adding, “Malaria is hitting everyone pretty hard, too.”

  Nathan nodded, trying not to think about Bethany. He stared at the board instead. If he prepared for a conflict that never came, he would be seen as wasting resources and looking for another war. On the other hand, if he didn’t prepare for the conflict and it came, they could all be in serious trouble.

  “Go ahead and issue the word to recall all regular forces. Bring them up to full strength if possible,” ordered Nathan.

  “What about the regiments?” asked Luke.

  “They’re not under my control unless the Executive Council gives me that authority or the president declares martial law.”

  “You could at least advise them to get ready for something.”

  Nathan grimaced. “That’s going to go over well.”

  “None of this is going to go over well,” Luke said. “Nevertheless, it’s necessary.”

  Nathan nodded, and Luke left the room. Turned to his desk, Nathan began writing on a piece of paper. He now found it much easier than typing something on a computer and then trying to find a printer that worked.

  CONFIDENTIAL REPORT

  EYES ONLY FOR: Jackson Purchase President Reginald Philips

  SUBJECT: Imminent Threat to the South

  FROM: General Nathan Taylor, Chief of Defense

  Mr. President,

  We have been able to confirm with a reasonable degree of certainty that the attack on Milan Depot came from elements based out of Huntsville. It is possible that these forces are led by the former JP Chief of Defense, Vincent Lacert.

  Although the stocks at Milan did include tactical nuclear weapons, I can confirm that they were rendered inoperable by my order prior to this raid. I have also placed the supplies and weapons obtained from Mississippi in safe storage at the dam.

  Today I have ordered the JP Regular Military put on active duty. It is my intention to bring them to the highest state of readiness as soon as possible given the threat to our south. Unlike in previous conflicts, we cannot count on fuel-driven vehicles to quickly transport our troops where they are needed nor to provide supplies. Our movements have to be thought out and planned. We must anticipate enemy movements ahead of time.

  Considering this necessity, I intend to take the following actions in the next few weeks after the units have been fully mobilized:

  1. Begin moving units south along the Tennessee River using barges. This will be more difficult than it may sound considering the barges will not be powered and will be moving upstream. Still working on details.

  2. Coordinate with the Creek for safe passage of our forces through their territory. This might be tough, but I believe they will cooperate.

  3. Secure a military alliance with the Creek to fight this common enemy. They will likely argue that Huntsville is no enemy to them, but I will try to reason with Billy Fox in that regard. He will certainly want something in return.

  I would ask that you do the following things in support of this campaign:

  1. Order the county regiments mobilized and brought to full strength.

  2. Have these elements secure key areas, such as bridges that regular forces currently guard. This will allow for the relief of the regular forces.

  3. New Harvest still does not have a county executive or regimental commander. I know this is not a top priority, but it needs to happen given the importance of the Kentucky Dam, which falls within the New Harvest area. I can provide you with recommendations for the regimental commander if you like, and I have taken the liberty of assigning my most trusted staff officers to fill the position on a rotational basis.

  4. Authorize/order the Tennessee counties to organize their own regiments. I know this will be a tough one to sell, but they need some defensive infrastructure.

  I fully understand the political sensitivities of taking these actions on the eve of an election, but feel the threat is too great to do otherwise. Please advise soonest if you disagree with any of the above actions.

  Respectfully,

  General Nathan Taylor

  Nathan read over the memo a few times, knowing this would cause Reggie no end of trouble. He didn’t like it, but saw no way around it. Walking over to the fax machine, Nathan sent it to his president.

  Chapter 6 – The Speech

  The Paducah Spring Farmer’s Market had slowly grown into the biggest trade fair on the Ohio River. Paducah fenced off a portion of the waterfront, and hundreds of sellers set up stalls selling and trading fruits, vegetables, crafts, clothing, tools, pottery, and anything left over from before N-Day that was now valuable.

  People from within the JP made the journey, bringing their wares, and camped out in communal camps around the waterfront in an almost-festive air. Along the waterfront, barges and boats from up and down the river came to sell and trade. This particular market was especially well attended because of the recent harsh winter, and people wanted to see the Brazen Memorial, which was within spitting distance of the market.

  Ernest Givens came to shake hands and kiss babies, as politicians always had. Although he was a natural leader, he was not a natural smoozer, so talking to masses of people in a never-ending series of superficial engagements was not easy for him. It was made easier by the fact that he was well thought of, genuinely liked, and he knew many of the people there.

  At some point, a group of supporters pressed him into saying a few words. Ernest initially refused, but the cry for him to speak grew louder and louder. Someone found a wooden table for him to stand on, and even before he knew what was happening, he was hoisted up onto its surface. He was surprised by the number of people that were looking at him and cheering. He could also see how devastated the city still was from the last two years.

  Finally, the cheering died down. “I feel like I’m up for sale here,” he said, and the crowd laughed.

  “Serious
ly, everyone. This market is fantastic. People getting together and trading fairly with each other. The best thing is it’s not run by the government. You did this all yourselves.”

  There was a loud round of applause.

  “Before N-Day, everyone thought the government had to be involved to make things happen. That every problem was theirs to solve, but that wasn’t true then and it isn’t true now. I would say more government sometimes even makes things worse.

  “As I’m sure most of you know by now, I’m running for JP President.” There was another instance of clapping and cheering. “I expect to make a decision on a vice presidential running mate soon and will let you know. In contrast to myself, I’ll make sure they’re someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”

  People laughed and held their hands up. Bottles of homemade liquor were passed around liberally.

  “I want you to know that I deeply respect President Reggie Phillips.” There were some groans and boos. “Hear me out, please. He recently reached out to me, and I can see he’s a man who genuinely cares for the JP and everyone in it. The problem is he’s surrounded by people who do not necessarily feel the same way. He is a tired, old man rundown by the pressures of the job. Let’s face it, who wouldn’t be? I would bet if he loses the next election, the first emotion he will feel is immense relief. He was our first president and has done the best he can and should be commended. But it’s time for a change.”

  Ernest noticed that the crowd was growing even larger. Those who had been trading stopped what they were doing to come hear him speak.

  “I don’t have to tell you that things are not necessarily going the way they should. I’m not just talking about all the terrible tragedies that have occurred over the last two years. What about this election? I would love to address you all by radio as my opposition does regularly, but I am not allowed. I would love to sit in those Executive Council meetings to see how the sausage is really made, but I am not allowed. I would love to try and help, but I am not allowed. The question has to be asked, why?”

  They had become nearly silent.

  “I’m sure most of you have heard about the recent decisions and executive orders placing the military back on high alert and calling up the county regiments. Why, I ask? Do we face some other grave threat? Not that anyone knows. So why is President Phillips doing it? A better question, why have his people convinced him to do it?”

  Ernest let the question hang in the air.

  “Doesn’t it seem a little coincidental that this is all happening so near the election? I’ve served in countries all over the world where shadow democracies beat their chests proudly about freedom and will of the people, but in the background, it was all about maintaining their power. Does anyone really think President Phillips will step aside quietly? Let me ask you a better question, does anyone really think Nathan Taylor will go quietly?”

  There were grumbles and angry words.

  “I’ve been down to Fulton, and I’ve seen the devastation. I’ve seen the camps filled with people, vomiting their intestines out in agony while their skin falls off. These were just normal people, like you and I. Who has ever been called to answer for that? No one.”

  People were becoming more agitated, and Ernest felt a sort of euphoric energy flowing through him.

  “I’ve been to Murray State University and seen the giant crater there. A site of learning and research where they were working on refining oil so we would have a sustainable source of fuel. It’s all gone now, just like the fuel reserves that backed up our currency that they promised would be good. Anyone here had money stolen from them by the government?”

  More hands went up and angry responses.

  “I have to ask, why? Not why our leaders have done these things. That’s obvious. They have exercised unchecked power for so long that they no longer consider the long-term consequences of their actions. No, the question is why do we allow it?”

  There were angry voices at the edge of the crowd. A stall in the back was knocked over and it appeared a fight had broken out.

  “Now it’s not just enough to point out the problems; we also have to look for solutions,” Ernest began, but the crowd had begun to undulate, and people began to push and shove each other.

  “Please everyone, just remain calm,” he yelled out, but he could no longer be heard above the din of people. There were now fights and yelling and pushing. Ernest saw a woman fall to the ground while people walked over her.

  “Stop, listen to me! Everyone calm down!” Ernest yelled, but the crowd surged forward and knocked the table over that he was standing on. He fell backwards onto the concrete and found himself in the middle of a large wave of people.

  He saw an open space near the water and crawled frantically in that direction through panicking feet. Ernest was stepped on numerous times and saw others around him fall themselves. He rushed towards the open area offered by the river and plunged into knee-deep water to get away from the mass of struggling people. Able to finally stand, he carefully made his way to the Brazen Monument and climbed up on its lower levels to get out of the water and people.

  Looking out, he saw chaos everywhere. There were fires, looting, and fighting. Several of the boats nearby were being swamped with people. He didn’t think it could get any worse until he heard a gunshot. This was answered, and then the shots were going off like a popcorn machine.

  Ernest hid behind the monument waiting for it to be over. His face was close to the stone and he looked up to see names. They all blurred together until one stood out as if carved from eternity itself.

  Major Beau Myers.

  This is not what that good man died for, Ernest thought. They are not responsible for what they are doing. They are so afraid and desperate they are like children, lashing out at everything.

  This is all Nathan Taylor’s fault. The outsider who came in and controlled Reggie Phillips. The man who sent his sadistic son to do his dirty work. The man who even now would steal the election.

  Ernest Givens would make him pay.

  He clung to the monument as the city burned again.

  Chapter 7 – Skyline of Fire

  Downtown Paducah and the waterfront burned with fire and frustration for nearly twenty-four hours before police and military could re-establish control. The city had barely started to rebuild from the last assault it had faced before this latest destruction.

  Nathan had rushed from New Harvest with every soldier he could gather and quickly established a headquarters tent near the epicenter of the conflict. After a bloody night of conflict, dozens of civilians were dead and hundreds more hurt.

  Reggie made his way into the tent. Several state police officers shadowed him as security. He was flushed and sweating

  “You shouldn’t be here,” said Nathan. “It’s still pretty hairy. You don’t look so good either.”

  “This is where I should be, Nathan. And, as far as my appearance, just a little cold, I’ll be fine.”

  Nathan nodded. “That’s for approving use of the McCraken County Regiment. I brought some troops with me, but they weren’t enough. We need more police and firefighters, too. Most of the fires are out, but we keep getting flare-ups.”

  “I’ll see about making it happen.”

  Nathan pulled Reggie over to a corner of the tent where they were unlikely to be heard. “There are strong indications the city is going to explode again tonight.”

  “Why?”

  Nathan shrugged. “That’s just the way these things work. Violence begets violence. Some people just love smashing stuff. Everyone’s still upset about the currency fiasco. We’d be having runs on banks if we still had banks.”

  Reggie nodded, thinking.

  “We need to institute martial law,” said Nathan.

  “That seems a little extreme,” Reggie said.

  “I don’t think so. With martial law, we can enforce a curfew, and the military forces can enforce the law and have arrest authority.”

 
; “How did it start?”

  Nathan cursed. “Ernest Givens. Giving some sort of rabble-rousing speech right over there.” He pointed towards the river. “He stirred everyone up. Seems like he’s good at that.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “No one knows,” Nathan answered. “I think we should issue a warrant for his arrest.”

  “We can’t do that. A judge can though.”

  “Good luck finding a judge and getting that done quickly,” said Nathan. “Besides, that guy is super-popular here. Everyone involved in getting a warrant was either on the Long Walk or had a relative on it. They’re not going to issue an arrest order.”

  “My hands are tied,” Reggie said.

  “Not if you declare martial law,” said Nathan. “You can order his arrest and hold him for thirty days without charges.”

  “That would run through the election.”

  Nathan sighed. “I know, but we can’t have him running around inciting people to violence. Just hold him for a few days and let him go when things calm down. I’ve got my hands full prepping for Huntsville and can’t handle all of this as well.”

  “Speaking of having your hands full, have you made a decision yet regarding my offer?” asked Reggie.

  Nathan’s face fell. “I’m sorry, really, but I have to decline. I need to be there for my daughter. As a matter of fact, the only reason I’m still the Chief of Defense is because you said I could do it from New Harvest.”

  “I understand. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

  “I’m presuming you have a backup?”

  Reggie nodded. “I think Valerie Cutchfield will accept.”

  “The MSU President?”

  “Yes,” said Reggie. “She’s smart, capable, and relatively young. Something I am not anymore.”

  “I am sorry,” said Nathan.

  Reggie put his hand on his shoulder. “I understand.”