Burning Nation

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Burning Nation Page 36

by Trent Reedy


  “Thanks for the tip,” I said.

  I told the group about Sparrow. Nobody seemed surprised, but Kemp was a little down. “I wish she would have told me,” he said. “I would have liked the chance to say goodbye.” We raised our glasses of water as a tribute to her.

  “So she’s going to live with her sister and … what? Look for a job? There are no jobs,” JoBell said. “Are we just supposed to go back to our normal lives now? After everything that’s happened to us, everything we’ve had to do?”

  “All the systems we’ve always lived by are basically gone,” Sergeant Kemp agreed. “I had an apartment before I went to border duty. I had my car in storage. But since the United States invaded, I haven’t been able to pay rent. The landlord probably dumped all my stuff out on the curb, if she stayed in Idaho. If she’s still alive. My car’s probably been repossessed. But then, who was allowed to drive a tow truck during the occupation? Who had the gas? If my bank account still exists, who in the Republic of Idaho is taking United States dollars?”

  “It’s going to take a long time to rebuild,” I said.

  “And life will probably never be like before,” said JoBell.

  I nodded. “Meantime, we’ll have to rely on ourselves.”

  “Ain’t nothing new.” Cal smiled.

  We went on talking like that, daring to think about the future for the first time in a long time. But as I looked around the table at our group, it killed me that Sweeney was not with us.

  * * *

  “Giddyup, partner! You’ve got a vid call from Nathan Crow.”

  I really needed a new digi-assistant. Waking up to Hank McGrew was the worst.

  “You awake, buddy? I know your alarm hasn’t gone off yet.”

  I raised my head off the pillow and blinked in the light. “Hank, if you don’t shut up, I swear I will shoot you.”

  “Ouch! I hope you don’t, but I sure support your Second Amendment rights! Would you like to see a video of a concert I did for a National Rifle Association fund-raiser?”

  I reached for my nine mil, but then stopped. “Just put the call on, Hank.”

  “Private Wright? You there? My screen is all white.”

  “Yes. Yes, sir. I’m here. Hang on.” I sat up and grabbed my comm so Crow would have a view of something besides the ceiling.

  “Ah, there you are! Sorry, did I wake you up? I didn’t realize you’d be sleeping so late.”

  I looked at the time. It was zero eight hundred. “I guess a war and torture in a Fed camp wear a guy out. But I’m good now. Do you need us? Something going on?”

  Crow held up a hand. “Relax. Everything’s okay. The fighting is clear out by the borders. I have good news! I want you and your squad at Main Street outside my old sheriff station by two p.m. I know Victory Day was a while back, but we were too busy to celebrate then, and we had nothing to celebrate with. Now the Montana and Wyoming cattle associations have sent in some serious steaks, and we commandeered some food from Washington supermarkets.” Crow laughed. “We’ve blocked off Main Street and we’re going to grill up a great lunch. We have a lot of hungry people to feed.”

  “So a community picnic?” I asked.

  “A huge community picnic. It’s a bit chilly, but my boys have fires going. Everybody’s welcome. I don’t want to have to order you to come.” He said it jokingly, but I could tell he was kind of serious.

  “It’s not that,” I said. “Only I wonder … The war’s not really over.”

  “It’ll be safe, Private. Two p.m. today. Get your weapons and your team and get on down here.”

  * * *

  Later that morning, we drove into town in Pale Horse. I’d been reluctant to use more gas, but it was a long walk from Sweeney’s to the school, and we didn’t feel safe enough yet going in anything but an armored vehicle. We spent a couple hours visiting Sweeney. When it was time for us to go to Crow’s picnic, Becca was going to stay with him in the gym, but Sweeney made her leave.

  On Main Street, two men wearing black Brotherhood armbands stood in front of a barricade made of scrap lumber and fifty-gallon barrels. SAWs were slung over their shoulders. Looking up and down Main Street, I could see every cross street was blocked off and guarded, and men in civilian clothes manned machine gun nests on the rooftops of nearly all the buildings. Picnic tables had been set up on the sidewalks, and people were already sitting down, talking and laughing, enjoying the sun even if it wasn’t super warm yet. Little kids chased each other around the tables.

  In Pale Horse, I leaned back against the turret hatch lid and sighed, closing my eyes and letting the sun warm my face, listening to the sounds of almost normal life. Some kid screamed, not from terror for once, but with laughter. With my eyes closed, I could almost believe the war had never happened, that we were about to enjoy a simple town picnic, like a much cooler Fourth of July.

  The Brotherhood guys must have recognized me, because they asked us to park by a barricade, where they could watch over our vehicle. We all dismounted and went to join the party, just a bunch of high school kids and a couple of their friends with semiautomatic assault weapons.

  My mouth watered at the smell of all kinds of different meats and vegetables roasting on huge grills. Armed Brotherhood guards stood by each of the six cooking stations.

  “Sure are a lot of troops around,” JoBell said.

  Kemp nodded. “These are hungry people. It’s important to avoid a stampede.”

  A stage had been set up in some space cleared by the ruins of Alsovar’s HQ. A giant black flag with the white eagle emblem was draped over the back wall behind the stage.

  “Private Wright! Sergeant Kemp!” Crow left his conversation with a few Brotherhood guys, and he and Jake Rickingson hurried toward us. Both of them also wore neat black armbands. “I’m so glad you could make it. How y’all doing with fuel? We have to ration what little we have left. We don’t have enough to get everybody back on the road, but we have a tanker truck coming up to supply military and Brotherhood vehicles. It’s free for the war effort, so just let me know what you need.”

  “What’s with the —” Kemp patted his own right arm where the band would go.

  “Just a matter of pride and practicality. The Brotherhood of the White Eagle helped end the United States occupation. We’re feeding the people now. We want to let folks know we’re proud of who we are and what we’ve accomplished. But since we don’t have uniforms yet, and since we have to be able to recognize other members, the armbands have to do for now.”

  “Cool,” said Cal. “Can I get one?”

  “You’re not a member of the Brotherhood,” Jake said.

  Crow smiled. “Not yet, anyway. You have to understand that the Brotherhood takes membership very seriously. We literally have to be able to trust one another like family. Like brothers. You know, the way you all are with each other. There’s this whole induction process and ceremony. Anyway, Jake, can you take this squad over to the front of the line to get some good eats? It’s time to celebrate.” He slapped Cal on the back. “I know this big guy could use a big old steak! He deserves one too. His old man has been running truck for us, bringing back food to feed the people. You talk to him?”

  Cal’s smile was almost as big as his muscles. “Yeah, talked to him yesterday. He’s glad to be back on the road.”

  Crow laughed again. “Mr. Riccon led a whole convoy right through some serious hot zones. I tried to tell him to wait until we’d cleared the Fed from that area, but he said to me, ‘Mr. Crow, we got hungry kids that ain’t had a decent meal in months. You keep the Fed busy, and I’ll bring in the food.’ You ask him! Go take a look at his rig— Fed bullet holes in his passenger side door.” Crow shook Cal’s hand. “He’s a real hero, just like you. But what are you standing around listening to me for? Jake, I told you to get this squad fed!”

  Both men laughed, and Jake led us to the head of the line to get our food. We all looked around for a place to sit. A man at a picnic table nearby looked
up from his potatoes. His eyes went wide when he saw us, and he hurried to his feet, grabbing one of his sons by the arms. “Boys, get up. Make room. That’s Danny Wright.”

  “Stop!” I blurted out. “No, no, no. Sit down.”

  “You’ve been fighting for us and deserve a—”

  “We’re all in this together,” Cal said. “Really. Please sit down.”

  “It’s no trouble,” said the man’s wife. She looked half-starved and exhausted. Whatever food she’d had must have gone to her sons.

  “Stay there. That’s an order,” I said. I felt bad for acting like a jackwad, but I had to do something. “Sit down. Feed your kids. That’s what we fought for.” I looked around and noticed people from other tables staring at us. Mr. Hornschlager and his family. Mr. Shiratori and his wife and daughter. There were the Monohans enjoying a meal with Crystal Bean and her dad. Timmy and Cassie Macer and their parents sat on fold-out lawn chairs with plates of food in their laps. Everybody had heard me order these people around. My face flared crimson hot.

  “Please,” I said to the first family. “Sit down and enjoy this meal. It’s what we fought for.” I swept my arm at the crowd all around me. “It’s what we’ve all been fighting for!”

  Kemp leaned closer to me and whispered, “Long live Idaho.”

  “Long live Idaho!” I shouted.

  A cheer erupted from the whole group. People stood up and clapped. Others hugged each other. One Brotherhood trooper was about to shoot into the air, holding up his rifle and pulling the charging handle. Thankfully, one of his buddies stopped him before he pulled the trigger. We’d had more than enough gunfire lately.

  We all squeezed in next to the first family, and JoBell’s dad joined us. He was slowly getting used to the idea of his daughter being engaged, so he wasn’t too warm to me, but it was still the best meal we’d had in months. Cal gave up on his plastic knife and fork and just picked up his steak with his hands. He bit into it like a beast, shaking his head back and forth as he ripped off a giant chunk of rare beef, juices running down his chin.

  Becca handed him a napkin. “Cal, there are little kids around. Try to set a good example.”

  “Care if I join you?” TJ approached with a steaming plate.

  “Go ahead,” I said. “Where have you been?”

  TJ ran his fingers back through his shaggy brown hair. “Talking to my parents. Turns out they’re thinking of leaving, going to stay with my mom’s cousin or something on a farm in upstate New York.”

  “You’re moving away?” JoBell asked.

  I hoped he wasn’t. TJ had been a pretty solid guy through this whole war so far.

  “That’s what we talked about,” TJ said. “They told me I had to go with them.”

  “Well, thanks for all your help,” Cal said. “You’ll be missed, man.”

  “Actually, I told them I was staying.” TJ stared at his food. “I’ve been on my own for a while now. I guess I’ll make it a permanent arrangement. At least until the war is really finally over. My parents have a cabin. They couldn’t sell it now if they tried. They’ll never be able to sell the house in town. When the war is over, maybe I’ll sort of, I don’t know …” He looked around like he didn’t want anyone to hear him. “Now that we can move around freely, I’ve been gathering supplies, food, ammo, and all that, hiding the stuff in different secure locations in case we need it in a hurry.”

  “Don’t you think you’re paranoiding the situation a little?” Cal asked. JoBell laughed. Cal frowned. “We got the Fed … I mean, the United States, on the run now. We’re done with that hiding in basements shit.”

  I hated agreeing with TJ instead of my buddy Cal, but I worried Cal and maybe others had called victory a little early. “There’s still a war going on. The US hasn’t given up yet,” I said.

  TJ nodded. “There’s more fighting, so —”

  “That’s the way to be!” Cal high-fived him. “Stay in the fight until we kill ’em all.”

  “Cal,” JoBell warned.

  TJ shrugged. “So I guess you’re stuck with me, Danny.”

  I smiled. “If I’ve survived the war so far, I guess I can put up with you.”

  Becca looked like she was about to say something, but then she frowned and looked across the crowd.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked her.

  “Mom?” she asked. We all followed her gaze. The people standing at the edge looked like Tom and Kate Wells, but they were far away. “Daddy?”

  The woman elbowed the man and pointed. The two of them had huge smiles on their faces.

  “Oh my gosh,” Becca cried. “Mom! Dad!” She stood up from the table and ran to them. They rushed to her, and in seconds the three of them were locked in a tight embrace. People all around them clapped. JoBell, her dad, and I stood up, and JoBell led us to the family reunion.

  When the Wells finally broke free from their hug, I nodded to Becca’s parents. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Wells, Mrs. Wells.”

  Mrs. Wells’s smile vanished. She stepped up in front of me, and I reached my arms out for a hug.

  She slapped me hard across the cheek.

  “Mom! What are you doing!?” Becca shouted.

  I’d seen a lot of hatred lately, but I’d never seen so much anger and rage as was twisted into Becca’s mom’s face right then, all directed at me. “You stay the hell away from my daughter! Don’t talk to her. Don’t … How could … You were like a son to us. We trusted you, and you turned her into some rebel, got her wrapped up in the middle of a war.” Then she cut me with the most painful words she could have chosen. “Your mother would be so ashamed.”

  “Come on, Becca,” said Mr. Wells. “We’re going home.”

  “Tom, Kate,” said Mr. Linder. “I don’t think it’s as simple as you think. They didn’t mean —”

  Mrs. Wells pointed a shaking finger at me. “He knew better. He knew what would happen in a war. He should have left my baby girl alone.”

  I wanted to throw up. How could they say such things, think such things? Worse, were they right?

  “I’m not a baby,” said Becca. “I made my own choices. I took care of the farm for months. While you were away on vacation!”

  Mrs. Wells put her hand on Becca’s arm. “I know you’re upset, Becca. Confused. These have been tough times. But that’s over now. Everything is going to be okay.”

  “Nothing is okay!” Becca yanked her arm away from her mother. “The war isn’t over, and I’ve sworn in as a soldier in the Idaho Army.”

  “Come on, Becca. Let’s go,” said her father.

  “You go.” Becca had her tears under control now. “I’m staying with my friends. They kept me alive through all this. You weren’t even in the state!”

  Now Becca’s mom started to cry. “Baby, we tried. We came as soon as we could. We were almost shot trying to sneak in this time.”

  “I’ve been dreaming of the day when you would come home since all this started, and now you come and ruin it!” Becca shouted. “I’m a soldier, and this is my squad. My team. My family. You don’t like them?” She shrugged. “I’ve been getting along without you for a long time now.” She stormed off, heading back toward our table.

  “Becca, wait!” her mother called. Then she turned her glare on me.

  “I’ll talk to her,” I said. “I’ll get her to calm down and talk to you.”

  “You guys go ahead and eat,” said Mr. Linder. “I’ll handle them.”

  I nodded my thanks to JoBell’s dad, who nodded back.

  JoBell kissed her father’s cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Daddy. I have to go help Becca.”

  He hugged her and kissed the top of her head. We returned to our meal.

  Becca did not want to talk, so we mostly ate in silence for a while until I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Jake Rickingson behind me. “Nathan wants you and Riccon up on the stage.” He jerked his head back in that direction. “Come on, we have to hurry.”

  “What’s thi
s all about?” JoBell said.

  Jake smiled. “You’ll see. This is going to be great.”

  I shrugged at my team, and me and Cal followed Jake to the stage. When I climbed the steps to the platform, I was surprised to see Mr. Morgan. His suit hung loose on his thin body, and his upper right thigh was still obviously bandaged under his pants. He hobbled over on crutches and held out his hand. “It’s good to see you again, Daniel, Calvin. I wanted to take a moment to thank you again for all you’ve done for us at the school.”

  I shook the man’s hand firmly. “I never did too good in school, but I loved football, and the cool people I got to hang out with. It really sucked to see the Fed turn the place into their base.”

  Morgan pressed his lips together. “Yes. It certainly did … suck.”

  Nathan Crow smiled and grabbed my arm. His grip was surprisingly tight. “You’re a good, loyal soldier, Danny. A great patriot of Idaho. I haven’t seen many people who can motivate troops like you can. Your father would be proud.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Well,” Crow said, “if you could take your seats, we’ll get started.” He motioned to a row of folding chairs at the back of the stage in front of the giant Brotherhood flag. I took a seat between Cal and Mr. Morgan.

  Cal leaned over to whisper, “I’ll never get used to you talking to Morgan when you’re not in trouble.”

  “Well,” I whispered back, “it is a messed-up world.”

  Crow stepped up to a podium and spoke into a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, people of Freedom Lake, of the Republic of Idaho, welcome to this belated first Victory Day celebration. I hope you are enjoying the food. Please eat all you can. We have plenty, thanks to the father of one young man, a brave soldier I have up here named Calvin Riccon. Cal, can you stand up and be recognized?” Cal stood with his big chest puffed up while the whole crowd clapped. Crow continued, “Matthew Riccon is leading supply convoy runs all over Montana, Wyoming, and the Republic of Idaho, trying to make sure that food gets to the people who need it. Let’s let Matt’s son know how much we appreciate his father’s hard work.” The crowd clapped more, but I noticed that the Brotherhood guards at the cross street checkpoints and the rooftop nests were disciplined and kept watch.

 

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