Burning Nation

by Trent Reedy

  “Like I said, I had to help them rescue you. I’m not some helpless glass princess who can’t take care of herself and—”

  I waved her off. “I know. I know. It’s not that. It’s just —” I rubbed my throbbing wrist.

  “Besides,” JoBell said, touching my back. “The situation has changed.”

  “How?”

  She sighed. “We should all sit down together and talk it out. But for now, remember that someday, somehow, this will all be over. This will all be behind us and—”

  “I don’t think it will ever be behind me.” I choked out the words, fighting to hold back my tears. “You don’t know…. You weren’t in that room. I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to move past this war. Even if I survive it, I don’t think it will ever be behind me.”

  JoBell pulled me into a hug. “I’m so sorry. I know it’s tough, but we’re here for you. I’m here for you.”

  “I don’t want you here for this. I don’t want what’s happening to me to happen to you.”

  “Oh, sorry,” said Sergeant Kemp. He’d come into the room without our noticing. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  JoBell turned around and faced the sergeant, keeping her arm around me. He smiled and held up a little thermos. “I’m sergeant of the guard tonight. Gotta keep everyone awake. Bring coffee to the troops. It’s good to see you, Wright. Glad we could get you out of there.” He looked down. “Sorry about Luchen.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Me too. But who are these troops? What the hell is going on here?” I was grateful for Kemp’s interruption in my talk with JoBell. Even though I wanted us out of the war, I knew my words wouldn’t make any difference. There was no escape. And I couldn’t handle any more serious conversation. “Whose house is this? Who are all these other guys? I mean, they must have helped you attack the resort.”

  “If you’re awake, we should go talk to Nathan Crow,” said Kemp. “He said to come get him the moment you were up.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “Sergeant, you’re taking orders from a civilian now? Come on. We’re our own unit.”

  Kemp shrugged. “It’s the new Idaho Army. President Montaine made Crow an officer. Besides, it’s way better working with these guys in the Brotherhood than being on the run by ourselves. That kind of ended up in disaster, right?”

  “The Brotherhood?” I asked. “Those other resistance guys we’ve been hearing about on the radio? The ones who botched the job on Main Street and almost got JoBell killed?”

  Kemp frowned. “Well, Crow said that the guys who started shooting got chewed out. They were supposed to wait until all the civilians were clear.”

  I guess I could understand messing up by shooting at the wrong time. “But you’re in contact with President Montaine?” I shook my head. “I mean, you must be if he sent a doctor.”

  Kemp smiled. “We really should go talk to Crow.”

  “Sergeant,” said JoBell. “He’s been through hell and barely had a chance to rest. Can’t we let him sleep a little longer?”

  “Thanks, JoBell, but I’m good,” I said. Anyway, I didn’t want to have to go through any more nightmares. “The war waits for no one.”

  * * *

  “Welcome to the Brotherhood of the White Eagle,” Crow said as he sat down with us at the kitchen table. His police uniform had disappeared, replaced by simple jeans and a gray sweatshirt.

  “I thought this was the Idaho Army,” I said. Then, remembering that Kemp had said President Montaine had made him an officer, I added, “Sir.”

  “Please, call me Nathan. And yes, this is the Idaho Army, but we’ve been fighting on our own for so long that we’ve become accustomed to a certain informality. You might say the Brotherhood is a special unit within the Idaho Army.”

  What kind of name was “The Brotherhood of the White Eagle”? I hoped this wasn’t one of those Nazi white supremacist groups or the Ku Klux Klan or whatever. Some parts of Idaho, especially around here, had a real problem with those psychos. Last year, this kid who went to our school for a while started giving Sweeney shit for being Asian. He tried calling him something that I couldn’t understand because I dropped his ass with one punch. Another time, a couple of douche bags who had graduated a few years before us started following Sweeney and me when we were in the Beast like they were going to jump us. I drove onto a back road. Those guys parked behind us, and me and Sweeney pulled those idiots out of their little pussy Buick and beat them down hard. We were cool about it. We let them get back up if they still wanted to fight, but then we crushed them again. By the fourth or fifth time they stayed down. No racist assholes bothered us after that.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” Crow brought me back to the moment. “I can tell by the look on your face. And JoBell had the same idea. But you can relax about that. The white eagle doesn’t mean white supremacy. In fact, the Brotherhood recently stopped a bunch of skinheads who were shaking families down for food and fuel. No, we chose the eagle as the symbol for our organization because the legend goes that one of the first battles of the American Revolution stirred up a bunch of eagles that had been nesting nearby. They flew above the field and screeched the way eagles do. Some of the patriots said the eagles were calling out for freedom. That’s what the Brotherhood is all about, a call for freedom from the United States federal government, which has expanded its power well beyond what the Constitution allows. At first we were only a small fraternity, a political group who tried to encourage people to vote for politicians who supported our views. Since the Idaho Crisis, more and more people have joined us, and eventually we determined that the United States is a lost cause. We’re now committed to Idaho and Northwest independence. And we won’t rest until every last occupying Fed soldier is dead or driven from our home.” Crow smiled. “But I know you agree with that, right, Danny? You don’t need this speech. You figured all this out the hard way, before the rest of us got into gear.”

  “How many are in this Brotherhood?” I asked.

  “It’s difficult to say. Since the war began, we’ve organized into a sort of military outfit, but we keep units separated. You know, that way if one of us is captured —”

  “He can’t rat out the others. I get it.”

  “Not that any of my guys would talk, but … Well, I guess the Fed can be pretty rough on you.” Yeah, I knew something about that. Crow sat up straighter. “Anyway, they call me an officer, a general. But that’s not like all the stuck-up, spit-polished elitism of the US military’s officer corps. It’s just a term for the sake of organization. There are other generals, but I don’t know how many or what their names are. A grand general commands us. Among the officers, the truly trusted, the Brotherhood of the White Eagle has maybe hundreds. Among our ranks, thousands, and we’re adding more all the time. The more the Fed cracks down, the more people join us. What’s really great is that the Brotherhood is everywhere. We have people working in city and county government, law enforcement, even active-duty military positions. It’s taken us years, even decades, to get to this point, but the organization is really coming together.”

  “Enough people to get me and Specialist Sparrow out of that prison,” I said. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

  “Well, President Montaine gave me a direct order, but more than that, I owe your old man.” This wasn’t the first time Crow had mentioned his friendship with my father. Had Dad been a part of the Brotherhood? I wondered. Why hadn’t he ever told me? Crow continued, “And we are all indebted to you for giving us this chance to stand up to the Fed. I’m only sorry that we lost so many. Sorry we lost your friend PFC Luchen.” He stared down at his coffee. “ ‘For greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.’ Nick Luchen went out a hero. And we won’t forget him.”

  JoBell rubbed my back. “Or the five soldiers of the Brotherhood who also died to take that section of the fence down.”

  Crow nodded. “We lost seventeen men in all.”

  Sevent
een? Seventeen of our people had died fighting the Fed at the Silver Sunset Resort? And who knew how many Fed soldiers had died trying to stop them? All of that just to release me and Sparrow?

  No. As much as I hated to admit it, Sparrow had only been a bonus. President Montaine wanted me released so I could do more of that “We will give you a war” stuff. Back when this all started, when President Rodriguez demanded the investigation or arrest of the Battle of Boise shooters, I had thought about turning Montaine’s offer of protection down. I doubted if I was worth all the trouble, the division and chaos, but I’d held out hope that people would find a way to work it all out peacefully. Now I wondered, if I had turned myself in back then, would all these people have died?

  “Seventeen. How is that possible?” I whispered.

  “Well, the first phase of the attack had the element of surprise,” said Crow. “The Fed had set up antiaircraft machine guns at the top of the ski slopes, just inside a wire perimeter. We took those quietly. Your Sergeant Kemp led that assault and did a great job. His team turned the guns on the ski lodge and any Feds they could take out. Their job was to keep the Fed pinned down so your friend’s boss could bring in the seaplane.”

  “We argued about using that plane for hours when we were planning it all,” said JoBell. “People thought landing on the snow would crush the floats, but Mr. Brooks insisted it would work.”

  “At the same time, a whole platoon of Brotherhood soldiers attacked the main gate. We got inside, took out the guard shack, destroyed some tactical vehicles, and snatched some ammo.”

  “But Mr. Brooks had worried they wouldn’t have a long-enough runway inside the fence,” JoBell said. “Luchen led a small team to set off a charge and create a hole in the fence. We figured with the anti-aircraft guns firing and the attack near the main gate, the Fed would be too distracted to worry about checking an out-of-the-way part of the perimeter fence.” She rubbed the back of my neck. “We were wrong. I still can hardly believe what he did.”

  “But how did you know where me and Sparrow were?”

  Crow sipped his coffee. “We received an anonymous tip from someone who claimed to be working inside. Someone who called himself Spartacus.”

  I sat up in my chair. “You staged a raid based on what some Fed said? What the hell were you thinking!?”

  Crow laughed a little. “We were thinking the same thing you’re thinking right now. Don’t believe them. Don’t trust them.”

  “But Danny,” JoBell whispered. “The contact said you were mumbling about making out in the igloo and how it would be better in the bedroom and they wouldn’t hear you in the guard tower. Nobody would know those silly place names except you.”

  I’d talked about making out in the igloo? What else had I said? I watched JoBell’s face to see if she was upset, if she knew about what Becca and I had done, but she seemed fine.

  “Which means that the contact was at least telling the truth that they had captured you alive,” said Crow. “And it was clear that if you were still alive, you were dangerously close to telling them a lot of stuff that could hurt the cause.”

  “I didn’t break!” I said. “I didn’t tell them anything.” It bothered me that Crow and especially JoBell thought I’d been about to give up. They had a point, though. I must have mumbled a few things. But who would have passed that information along to the Brotherhood, though? As far as I could tell, nobody even knew I was there except Alsovar, the doctor, and Captain Peterson.

  “Babe, nobody is accusing you of anything,” said JoBell.

  I shook my head. I couldn’t get my mind around what had happened, couldn’t sort out what had been real and what had been hallucination. How had I gotten out of my cell? Peterson? No, TJ. Right? “Nobody. Nobody but Sparrow knows what it was like in there. What Alsovar did to us, and I’m not going to listen to people saying that —”

  “You want a chance to get back at Major Alsovar?” Nathan Crow asked.

  “What?”

  “Do you hate him?” He locked eyes with me. “Do you want to get back at him for what he did to you and your friend?”

  “Mr. Crow, this war isn’t about revenge,” JoBell said. “We’re only trying to get them to leave us alone.”

  Crow didn’t look away. “Fine. What if I said President Montaine wants you to help with a plan that will prevent Alsovar from doing to others what he did to you?”

  JoBell nodded. “See, that’s different. It’s about doing what we have to to save lives. To prevent more atrocities. That’s the kind of mind-set we need to hold on to.”

  I understood the point JoBell was trying to make, and I was glad she felt that way, that she hadn’t lost so much of what made her wonderful that she’d given up on ideas like that. But I’m not gonna lie. I did want payback.

  “I want revenge,” Sparrow said from behind us. She leaned against the side of the archway that separated the kitchen from the living room and ran her hand back over her scalp. “I’m going to make that bastard hurt. I’m going to kill him for what he did to me. And for Luchen.”

  I gave Sparrow an understanding look, squeezed JoBell’s hand, and then fixed my gaze on Crow again. “Let’s do it. I’m in.”

  “Wright!” Crocker spun away from a video game on an antique computer and jumped up out of his swivel chair. JoBell, Kemp, and Crow had led me to an upper room in the back of the pole barn, where, from the looks of things, Crocker was running the commo center. He had an ASIP III radio and what looked like his shortwave set up, along with the game. “Good morning, sir,” he said to Crow. He smiled at me. “It’s good to see you’re okay. Feeling better?”

  A shower, a breakfast, a clean change of clothes, and a cup of coffee had injected new life into me and helped me focus on something besides that horrible, hot, and sleepless room. That, and Crow’s promise of revenge. “I’m okay.”

  A voice came on the radio. “Alpha base, this is talon, three five two. Over.”

  “Oh, hang on,” Crocker said. He picked up a radio handset. “Talon, three five two, this is alpha base. Go ahead. Over.”

  “Alpha base, talon three five two. We’re moving that load of M240 rounds. I’m hearing a different story on this from different people. Did you want those moved to charlie base or delta base? Over.”

  “Damn it. If I knew that sergeant’s name, I’d find him and kick his ass.” Crow stepped up to Crocker’s radio and computer table. “You have the file pulled up there, Specialist?”

  “Hang on a minute, sir.” Crocker keyed the mike. “Talon three five two. Wait one. Over.” He worked the mouse, opening folders and keying in passwords, running the antique computer like a pro. A spreadsheet came on-screen.

  Crow ran his finger down a list of figures. “What’s the lot number? Let’s make sure they have the right shipment.”

  Crocker called the unit back and got the number. Crow checked it off the list. “Come on, guys.” He grabbed the mike. “Talon three five two, this is talon actual. That shipment is not going to a base. Transport that ammo to firing position charlie forty-seven. How copy? Over.”

  “Talon actual. This is three five two. Roger. That’s a good copy. Talon three five two, out.”

  “You got the radios working?” I asked.

  Crocker picked up a metal device that was about four inches square and an inch thick. He petted it like a kitten. “When the Idaho Army sent operatives to link up with the Brotherhood, they gave them this Communication Security Encryption Protocol device. A COMSEP.”

  “Okay?” I said.

  “It contains a bunch of codes. When it’s connected to the radio, it encrypts the transmissions the same as every other radio that has been synched to those codes. It also makes our radio change frequencies over a hundred times per second at exactly the same rate as other radios on the network change. Protected this way, we’re able to talk safely with any radio that’s on the net and in range. We can communicate with just about all our bases and with Idaho Army operatives in the area.”r />
  “But tell him the best part.” Sweeney came into the room. He unplugged his comm from a charging station by the computer.

  Crocker shrugged. “The Idaho Army has configured this COMSEP to reprogram the Internet protocols on COMMPADS. Our comms are back online.”

  “And all charged up,” Sweeney said as his comm turned on. “Good morning, Trixie.”

  “Ooooooh, Eric.” Digi-Trixie’s naked body squirmed around in the lower right corner of his screen. “Good morning, baby. You left me charging up when we should have spent the night together.”

  Crow shot an annoyed look at Sweeney. JoBell rolled her eyes and said, “Trixie, calm down, put your clothes back on, and become Hot Librarian Trixie. No. Just become … normal.”

  A simple brown dress instantly appeared on the digital-woman. “She’s jealous of what we have, Eric.”

  Sweeney put on a sad act. “JoBell made me add her to the voice control so she could boss Trixie around.” He smiled at me. “How you feeling, buddy?”

  “Better,” I said.

  “Private Sweeney, do you have somewhere to be?” Crow asked.

  Sweeney’s energy dimmed a little. “Oh, sure. I’m on guard duty in an hour, but I just wanted to check the news first.”

  “Check it somewhere else,” said Crow.

  “Right. Sorry.” Sweeney headed down the stairs.

  Crow smiled. “If we’re not careful, we get too many people hanging out up here, and then we can’t get anything done.” He put his hand on my shoulder for a moment. “And what we have to do is really important.”

  JoBell squeezed my hand. “I’ll get out of the way.”

  “No, stay,” I said.

  Crow nodded to Crocker, who handed me my old comm. “We made sure to grab this old thing before we abandoned the cabin.” He plugged in the COMSEP and tapped a button on its screen. After a minute or so, the status bar showed 100 percent, and Crocker unplugged the little black box. “Should be go,” Crocker said.