by D A Carey
“Surely the U.S. won’t let these domestic distractions stop them from attacking other hostile missile sites around the world?” The disbelief in Levi’s voice was palpable.
“No, I don’t think so. What I worry about is people and resources that are stretched thin and fatigued are more likely to strike first, ask questions later, and make mistakes. Those mistakes could escalate a war that a precision surgical strike may not.”
“Hmmmf.” Dave’s words were sobering.
“I’m worried about the western cities and what damage can be done while the U.S. is getting our eastern half in order. If the majority of the domestic attacks truly are external terrorists that were planted here, then we have to assume the same was done out west. If that’s the case, then they had to be prepared for this event, giving them a huge leg up. The real question is what is their plan?”
Levi raised an eyebrow. “Terror and destruction, I would guess.”
“Perhaps. If it’s murder and mayhem, we can handle that. As bad as it will be, people will eventually rise up and knock them down. But if they have a more nefarious plan, what then?”
“Like what? What could they be planning? I don’t quite follow you, Dave.”
Others were drawing closer to listen.
“Precisely, Levi. What could they be planning? Do they want to take over a city? Perhaps they want to knock down all the bridges and dams to make reconstruction hard? Maybe they want to secure a beachhead for boots on the ground. Or they could’ve smuggled in dirty nuclear suitcase bombs and want to render much of the western half of the U.S. uninhabitable for centuries to come. We just don’t know, and we desperately need to. That’s the problem.”
“I never realized what a truly devious mind you have, Mr. Cavanaugh.”
“You always set a thief to catch a thief,” Dave said, paraphrasing Cervantes.
<< Christy >>
Christy and Mary were in temporary quarters at the Texas Chartertown location, Turk-Town. It had been an arduous trip from downtown San Antonio. Both ladies had rugged mountain bikes they used for their weekend exercise. They used to enjoy riding along the canal early on Saturdays before all the tourists got moving. Mary had a tow behind cart they used to bring picnic supplies.
True to their plan, they left the luxurious rooftop condo a little after one in the morning. The night wasn’t as quiet as they expected. The downtown street was shrouded in a damp fog that kept it dark except for the moments when the wind cleared the sky and allowed the full moon to shine down. Just when they thought they were safe, a scream or gunshot would be heard too close for comfort. Some homes were in full revelry with loud music over the top of a generator in the background. Twice they had to avoid bodies in the road.
“Where are the police?” Mary whispered. “This isn’t right.”
“Perhaps they’re overwhelmed. Maybe they went home to protect their own families, or they can’t get around without cars and radios now. Whatever it is, this isn’t good.” Christy motioned to a body lying beside the building next to them, the massive blood pool putting a lie to the supposition he could be sleeping.
Several times during the night, they hurried into an alley or hid behind stalled cars to avoid people. Mary wanted to find others to band together with. Christy warned that they didn’t know who to trust. On one occasion, Mary’s bike slid on the wet street and she tumbled to the ground. She let out a scream that Christy worried would lead to their discovery; however, they were in luck. There was a melee nearby of perhaps a dozen people fighting, and Mary’s scream went unnoticed. They hid and bandaged the gash on her knee. Christy skillfully applied first aid and antibiotic cream learned in her corpsman days from the Navy, while thinking how this stuff would be worth its weight in gold soon if things didn’t improve.
When the fight died down and the people moved on, they were on their way again. The bike trailer now had a distinct wobble from the crash. They picked up speed as they got further out of downtown, although speed came with its own concerns. A crash could be deadly. Their backpacks and cart were already woefully overloaded with as many of their keepsakes, supplies, and guns as they could carry. If the cart was too badly damaged, they would have to choose what to leave behind. Additionally, there was the issue of safety. It was dark, dawn wouldn’t come for a couple of hours, the quietest time of the night and their ears were their best warning device for trouble. If they went too fast, they could negate that asset and could ride into a trap. Slow, smooth, and silent was the plan.
As it got lighter, they decided to make a dry camp off the road, rest their cramping legs, and have a bite to eat. Neither woman could sleep much. They were on high alert and anxious to see what awaited them at Turk-Town. After a couple of hours, they were back on the road.
They arrived at the gates of Turk-Town in the early afternoon. They were stopped at the gate. After providing their bonafides and proving they were indeed investors and part owners in the community, they were warmly welcomed and shown to their quarters. With tears of relief and a warm shower behind them, both women fell into a deep sleep and didn’t emerge until the next morning.
* * *
As the next days wore on, they didn’t feel as welcome as they had before. It was hard to put a finger on exactly what it was. Small things kept happening to delay the completion of their permanent home. Meetings were moved and the notification missed. The residents were pleasant and friendly; it was the leadership group and their cronies who wore smiles that only went skin deep.
Big Jim Tarpley, the nominal leader of this location, kept smiling and saying he was sorry. The ladies didn’t buy it. He had only arrived a few hours before them and was swiftly taking charge. As other residents began to see who he favored and who he didn’t, Christy and Mary increasingly saw their group of friends dwindle. Christy and Mary weren’t the only outcasts. They noticed there were others in the same boat. While Christy wasn’t one to assume the worst of people, it was hard to ignore that the outcasts either had a race or persuasion that was different from Big Jim’s and his cronies.
<< Big Jim >>
The Turk-Town location was built on a hill on the west side of Medina Lake. Across the lake, there were private homes and marinas for weekend boaters when times were good. The community had purchased more land both south and west of the community and had the beginnings of a strong cattle operation complete with cowboys, bunkhouses, and line sheds. Many of the men on Big Jim’s leadership team were common thugs or fancied themselves throwback Texas cattlemen. In reality, Big Jim’s inner circle fell into one of two categories: they were either men from the city who’d become wealthy by investing or some other means or they were the hangers-on to those men and the ones who got their hands dirty doing the distasteful tasks of their bosses.
Big Jim had grown up a true Texas cattle and oilman. However, what he didn’t inherit from his father and grandfather was the integrity and business sense to continue the legacy. One of Big Jim’s many failed ventures was a string of used car dealerships in San Antonio. His partner Brian Forrest was a defense attorney in San Antonio and was as slick as they came. Not only did he earn a pretty penny defending Big Jim, he enjoyed being a bully and the illegal antics he could get away with Big Jim’s influence behind closed doors.
Mr. Cavanaugh’s plan had been to lure in medical people, teachers, mechanics, and most importantly, farmers with discounted memberships. Big Jim was obsequious and bowing when people had come in from Cavanaugh Corporation. The only people who stayed frequently from Cavanaugh Corp. were the builders and construction people who didn’t interact with the residents much and the few security people Cavanaugh had sent.
Big Jim liked schmoozing with Brian publicly because he thought of him as a member of the social circle he grew up in. When he felt a strong urge to indulge his baser nature or solve a problem with violence, he turned to Clyde. Unwaveringly loyal, Clyde had been by his side all of his adult life. Where people like Brian had limits to their depravity, Clyde was
only getting going at the point where Brian stopped, and down deep Big Jim craved the depravity.
“Big Jim,” Clyde said, “I—”
“Mr. Tarpley when others are around. You know the deal, Clyde.”
“Okay, Mr. Tarpley,” Clyde sneered. “Hell, no one can hear us.”
“What is it, Clyde?”
“I heard those two new women talking. They’re asking questions about who is here under the ‘special skills’ rule.”
“So what? It don’t matter. It’s people we need for how we want to run this place. If they don’t like it, they can leave.”
“But what if they get word out to Mr. Cavanaugh? Won’t he send people down to investigate? I hear he has a whole army of ex-Special Forces people under his command.”
“Mr. Cavanaugh doesn’t know if we’re alive or dead. He has his own problems to deal with. Those women need to get with the program or get going down the road. I don’t have time to worry about them.”
“I thought we had radio equipment to stay in touch with Colorado?”
“We did, but someone forgot to store it in the Faraday cage, so it’s all ruined.”
“Wow, really?” Clyde said, genuinely surprised.
“That’s the story as far as anyone knows.” Big Jim winked.
Clyde grinned. “Well, boss, some of the people in here under the special skillset waiver are me, a few of the boys, and all of the cattle workers.”
“What about the women?”
“A few of those came in early under that program, women we knew from before. For the ones coming in now, we aren’t bothering with any paperwork. They get three hots and a cot in exchange for what we need ‘em to do.”
“That reminds me, I need to check on them soon. Is that pretty little teacher I found dancing down at the club on the outskirts of town here?” Big Jim leered.
“Yes, sir, she is!”
“See? That fills our quota if Mr. Cavanaugh asks. Make sure her paperwork is filled out as a teacher.”
“Sure, boss. She ain’t actually teaching, although some of the boys sure are getting an education.” Clyde winked back at Big Jim.
Big Jim nodded. “For the cattle ranch workers, list them as farmers. This will all work out fine.”
* * *
A few of the Cavanaugh security team were uneasy with how Big Jim ran things. He said he was following the rules, and they had no concrete proof he wasn’t. Others among the Cavanaugh security team spent a lot of time with Big Jim drinking and going to clubs, ostensibly to guard him. To an outsider, it was obvious he was cultivating them to his cause.
Lay the Course
Lay the Course
“Growth is never by mere chance; it is the result of forces working together.”
- James Cash Penney
<< Ellie >>
When Ellie and Malcolm had been forced to flee from Chicago to Carrollton without much of the personal belongings and mementos that meant so much to them, there hadn’t been time to think of much more than safety. Since then, they’d had opportunities to go back up north and they’d declined. Despite how they got here, they’d found they were happy, yet they both missed Chicago, and when order returned, they discussed moving back. They missed their home, and Malcolm was getting pressure to come back into the office and not work from home all the time. Ellie had more freedom for that option.
Then the west went dark. Terrorism and chaos erupted in the east. No one was sure if it was the same as they’d experienced the year before or if it was foreign sponsored. With all that was going on, they were happy they hadn’t moved back to Chicago. Despite all that was going on in the world, things were idyllic in Carrollton. The crops were producing, and they had some livestock but got most of their processed beef and hogs from Liz’s family nearby.
Technology like power and the internet worked, despite the frequent outages. Kentucky wasn’t hampered by a total system failure due to an EMP like in the west. The outages they did get were due to shutdowns from the utility companies due to damage or workers that didn’t show up for work. Thankfully, overt acts of terror hadn’t come to this part of the country yet, even though the larger cities all around them were hit hard.
When they did get satellite TV or access the internet, it was so full of fake news no one knew what to believe. It had been that way for years in the U.S. with different political factions using these sources merely as a means of projecting their propaganda and not the public service it was meant to be. After the tragic events of the last few days, it was only getting worse. Some people believed a theory that the internet was working so intermittently because the government was censoring the traffic and trying to make it harder for foreign terrorists and home-grown chaos groups to communicate.
<< Luke >>
Luke continued going to work. The company stock and 401K plan had dropped to next to nothing. His wife’s company had closed the doors and put everyone on unpaid leave. There were rumors of traditional terrorist attacks in the eastern cities. So far, Louisville had been spared the worst of the chaos, but that didn’t mean completely spared. Shootings were up, and there had been car bombings. Local officials called the attacks copycat events, concluding it was most likely local organizations using the national violence as a way to settle scores.
“Cindy, I’m going to try and go back into the office today. What do you want to do with the kids?”
“They need to go to school, but I worry.” The anguish in Cindy’s voice was stark. She came from a family who valued education and was pragmatic about current events. In her mind, she warred with the need to send the children to school against the slight chance of violence that may occur. “What do you think, Luke?”
“I’d say let them stay home. You’re going to be here anyway. Last time I was at the school, parents were taking home books and a week’s worth of assignments. You can teach them as well as those teachers.”
“You would think for what we are paying that private school, the kids would be safe there,” Cindy said exasperatedly.
“They’re probably safe. The school has hired half a dozen armed guards, and the school is not a target. But if you’re going to be home, better safe than sorry. I can pick up their assignments on my way downtown.”
“Well, as much as I hate to admit it, that calms me some. If I were here all day alone, I would worry so much. When the TV and internet work for a while, I almost wish it didn’t because the news is so depressing.”
“That’s why I need to go into work. Things are not getting done. I could even get another promotion out of this simply by being there and getting things done.”
“Luke, keep in mind, this job isn’t worth your life.”
“Honey, don’t worry. It will be okay. The news is surely exaggerating how bad things are. Besides, I want to make you and the kids proud and buy you all the things you deserve.”
“I love that about you. Just don’t leave us here all alone, Luke. Make sure you come back.”
Luke had tried to contact his old friend Vince. He’d sent e-mails before going to work, tried calling on his cell phone, and sent a couple of text messages hoping they would get through when a voice call wouldn’t. Vince was out west with the movie star Liz Pendleton. He could only imagine the hell they were going through.
It made Luke nervous to go to work and leave his family home alone, but they needed the money. Even though there hadn’t been much violence in Louisville, gas prices had spiked to twenty dollars a gallon, and city buses weren’t running. Milk cost about fifteen dollars a gallon, and a loaf of bread was nearly ten dollars. Grocery stores had hired armed guards and were only letting in a few people at a time who had to be escorted through the store to make their purchases. The shelves were mostly bare, like the bread and milk sections before a snowstorm.
For most in Louisville, work had ground to a halt. Fortunately, Luke still had work. Many companies were declaring bankruptcy, and no one cared much. It was too dangerous to go to work if you could, an
d if you got paid, the money wasn’t worth the risk it took to earn it. The mayor had publicly debated the need for martial law, there were bombings and shootings practically every hour in other parts of the east, and people couldn’t tell if it was the army putting down uprisings, terrorists, riots, or other factions taking advantage of the situation. It didn’t matter. If he or his family were in the wrong place at the wrong time, they would be just as dead.
The main reason Luke had work was that people were still going to the hospital, trying to get the drugs they need to stay healthy, sane, or alive. The healthcare payers and providers kept up the pretense of tracking patients’ access to care, bills, and usage in order to make sure they got paid. In reality, those payments were no more than digits in a virtual world. When those digits converted to dollars in an employee or doctor’s bank, it wasn’t worth much, and that was if you could even find a store willing to accept an electronic payment. Most had fallen back on barter or cold hard cash.
While Luke was going into the office on occasion, much of the time he was able to work from home. His phone worked occasionally, and even though the power was intermittent, he had a generator and enough fuel for the immediate future. Fortunately, he’d listened to Vince when being advised to invest in a whole home generator and a thousand-gallon propane tank.
Driving through his neighborhood was surreal. They hadn’t yet been hit hard like other areas. There were few signs of crime or violence beyond some broken windows and damaged cars. Even with the relative calm, what was disconcerting was the lack of sound. People had grown so used to cars, airplanes, and the general background noise of life in America. The neighborhood wasn’t eerily quiet; some people were boarding up windows, and the sounds of hammers and saws could be heard. Beyond that, it sounded different in the neighborhood in a way that was hard to describe.
