Killswitch Chronicles- The Complete Anthology

by G. R. Carter

  “The question is, how will the Land Lords and the rest of our people feel about giving rights to the same group that just killed a lot of Red Hawks?” Sam asked. “They might not take it so well.”

  “Let’s bring in Father Steve and Pastor Hart,” Bek offered. “This will be a real object lesson on forgiveness.” She thought for a moment. “Then, let’s offer to give the Land Lords a year off of taxes.”

  “Can we afford to do that?” Alex asked. He was keenly aware of the general finances of the Republic. But he purposely avoided the details, allowing Rebekah and her Economics faculty at Old Main make the budget recommendations to the Senate each year.

  Rebekah nodded, “No one knows it yet, but we discovered that Walsh stashed a huge amount of Quarters in Lincoln City. I’m guessing he was going to try to crash our economy or maybe use them to bribe some of our Land Lords.” Bek noticed Martin’s surprised look. He had been the one to occupy Lincoln City with the invasion force.

  Rebekah explained. “I organized a few small groups from the Old Main faculty to inspect the campus New America started from. Turns out Walsh tried to create his own version of Rome there. Pretty weird stuff, but also some very useful finds. Especially enough Quarters to fund our government for about two years with zero tax revenue.”

  “Won’t introducing all that currency cause inflation?” Martin asked. Economics wasn’t his strong point, but he was studying the basics. Alex gave him the goal when he informed Martin he would be making him the official Republic liaison to any American territory that might come under Red Hawk control.

  “That’s a good question. We’ll have to control the way we introduce it. Maybe do some building projects that need immediate attention. The big job will be rebuilding the Fortress Farms that got hit in the invasion,” Rebekah said.

  “Plus building new ones up north. Depending on what we find up there, we might need twenty or thirty more just to make an effective line,” Sam agreed.

  Alex groaned. “Plus equipment and seed and weapons. Trained farmers, too. Martin, do your best to find qualified people out of the Americans. Anyone we can use. And Bek, ask your mom if any of the townsfolk are anxious to cut their own plot of land out. Might be a good way to reward some hard workers that have always wanted a farm of their own.”

  Rebekah smiled at him. “Glad to see you’re back to thinking big-picture. Which will of course bring us to the subject you are trying to avoid, won’t it, my love?”

  Alex looked into his wife’s sapphire eyes. They sometimes burned with an almost supernatural intensity. She laughed when he told her that; every person who knew Alex said the same exact thing about his eyes, too, but apparently never to his face. I wonder how she looks at me now. Am I a burden to her with one eye and a couple of limbs that will probably never work right? Alex couldn’t look away, and Rebekah chose not to. Breaking the stare would let Alex off the hook, allow him to discuss something else beside the fate of his friend.

  Alex shuffled back to his chair and his window. Once again he found solace in the trees framed in glass. So big and powerful, yet at heart a series of twigs and leafs and root fibers. A collection of tiny parts functioning as a huge singular life form. The Republic must function the same way, each citizen acting in his or her self-interest within the bounds of the law. Each a tiny part of a huge living society.

  Eric, why couldn’t you just do what I asked? Now I have to choose between being Founder and being a friend, Alex lamented.

  “All right, Martin. I know you’ve already addressed the situation with Eric. I understand he lost his father in the battle. But his insubordination cost us a complete victory. If we’re forced into another battle with New America, it’s going to cost us even more lives,” Alex began.

  “Is there a question in there, sir?” Martin asked, returning a bit more formality to the conversation.

  Alex examined his friend and confidant. Apart from Rebekah and Sam, Alex loved and respected Martin Fredericks most of all. Calm and cool under fire, always capable of seeing the practical solution to even the most emotional of problems. Yet the scuttlebutt was that he had given Eric Olsen such a dressing-down after the Lincoln City incident that soldiers outside the building heard every word. Martin understood the battle plan Alex developed even though he would have done things differently if it was his decision to make. The ultimate pain came when he realized the quick end to this war slipped right through their grasp. Even if Alex could regain a level of comfort with Eric’s leadership, it was highly doubtful the Field Commander of the Red Hawk forces would.

  The chain of command relied on trust. With the public embarrassment in front of fellow soldiers and the loss of his father due to what Eric apparently considered a lack of Alex’s judgment, trust would be a long time in returning to their relationship. A relationship once nearly as close as the one he shared with three people in this room now.

  “No. No question, Commander. I intend to assign Eric the lead administrator role for Little Egypt. He’ll be in charge of integrating the province into the Republic. Julia will use her considerable experience to make sure he’s on the right track,” Alex puffed up to reassure himself. “She’s been qualifying the prospective Land Lords from that area anyway. He can be the face of the Republic.” The Founder seemed satisfied with his statement and the solution in his mind. No one challenged him on the decision, mostly for fear of starting an argument impossible to conclude.

  A knock at the door saved them all from a conversation no longer holding any joy for them.

  “Founder Hamilton, you have a guest, sir,” the bass voice boomed from the other side of the door.

  Alex questioned his advisors with a simple glance. Each answered with a simple shrug; no one had any visitors planned during what promised to be a long day of planning. Before another word, the heavy oak doors of the study swung open to reveal the leaders of ARK. Tony Diamante and Nicole Kelley – now officially Nicole Diamante - strode in side by side. John Fitzgerald Diamante, better known to everyone as Uncle Jack, was a bit behind. As his nature dictated, Uncle Jack was chatting up the Red Hawk soldier who made the announcement of their arrival. Clearly the young man feared being yelled at for allowing visitors into a private meeting without permission. Uncle Jack sensed the concern and was telling some story that received a nervous smile in return.

  Smiles and hugs greeted the visitors. In this new world since the Reset, communication remained difficult at best. Cables now connected the main Fortress Farms with interior towns and the capital, but the single line to ARK was good only for burst transmission, not to call and chat as people had in the old days. Personal interaction was about the only way for friends to speak to one another, though even that was exceptionally rare with the scarcity of working vehicles and the danger of bandits still present even in areas under the control of civilized peoples.

  “How in the world did you sneak in here?” Alex demanded good-naturedly. “I think we need a review of our defenses, Commander Fredericks!”

  “All your weapons are still pointed north. Besides, we flew in on one of our new Skyships,” Tony smiled. “You want to see it?”

  Sam, the man who lived to fly, was already out the door before Tony could complete the question. The rest of the group waited as an attendant helped Alex into a wheelchair provided for use between therapy sessions. He only agreed to be pushed so that group would not be slowed down by his cane-enabled shuffle.

  The chair swerved around a bucket left with plaster still caked inside. Construction on the personal Fortress Farm of Alex and Rebekah Hamilton was temporarily halted as the Republic’s skilled tradesman left for the damaged Fortress Farms to aid in repair. The living quarters had been completed as well as the main meeting area. But materials still sat in piles in the main entryway, and the veranda off of the second floor where the Hamiltons resided remained open to the elements. The doors swung open to the late winter chill outside and each instinctively shuddered as they adjusted to the absence of the wood-fi
red heat.

  “Celeste is going to be so jealous,” Sam muttered to himself as he laid eyes on the largest man-made vehicle he had ever seen. ARKShip One hovered over the open meadows leading up to what once had been a state run resort on the banks of an artificial lake. Once fallen into disrepair, the large buildings and trails created to stimulate tourism in a rural town now held wide fields already opened by the plow this past fall. Several years would be invested in the creation of a working farm – they named it Aronia Point – but eventually this would be the home of this branch of the Hamilton family for generations. Sam and his wife Celeste had been gifted the ancestral Fortress Farm of the Hamilton family, Schoolhouse Hill, by the Founder on their wedding day.

  As large as the Aronia Point was, the matte white craft floating above dwarfed the other structures below. Sunlight reflected off a bright silver chevron adorning the massive tail fins arising from the rear of the craft. Absently Alex remembered seeing the symbol on each piece of clothing ARK personnel were wearing. A rectangle shaped box hung from the bottom of the cigar shape with windows visible along the side. What appeared to be giant fans mounted behind cone-shaped cylinders sprouted from the middle and back of the craft.

  “Celeste might be jealous we got it built, but the initial designs for it came out of the Wizard Academy,” Nicole answered, referring to the headquarters of the Red Hawk Republic’s engineering group. “The Boeing plant outside of St. Louis built the Airlander 80 before the Reset. Survivors needed food, not skyships, so surprisingly nothing at the hangars got damaged. We’ve got those already armed and up on patrol for training. We wanted something more easily replicated, though, and we just won’t have the ability to build something as high tech as the Airlander for a while. Once they’re gone, that’s it. Celeste is the one who found the plans in the archives for the U.S.S. Akron and sent it over to us. That’s how we built this one. Without our computer, recreating it would have been tough.”

  “Recreating it? Oh, that’s right. I remember now. The American Navy built something like these a hundred years ago,” Sam said, nodding. “The pilot’s brain was accessing the files of something that caught his imagination. “Wait, don’t tell me these carry aircraft, too?”

  Tony and Nicole both smiled in reply.

  “Flying aircraft carriers,” Sam muttered to no one in particular. “We could keep Raptors over the front lines for hours…” The thought of not having to keep returning to a landing strip to refuel and rearm stirred up happy dreams.

  “Don’t get too far ahead of us, Sam. Recovering those planes is going to take a lot of time and training. Right now we’re in the initial planning phases. It’s going to take some crazy pilots to learn how to do this,” Tony cautioned.

  Sam was grinning ear to ear when Alex broke in. “Not a chance, brother. This is where the Founder of the Republic gets to make an executive decision. There’s no way the leader of our Air Wing is going to become a test pilot again. You’re way too valuable to everyone here. Personally and professionally.”

  The crushed look on his brother’s face made Alex briefly reconsider. No, I can’t lose him like that. And test pilots have a funny way of pushing the boundaries until it’s too late.

  Alex continued. “Besides, if I didn’t say no, Celeste certainly would. She’d say there were better pilots who weren’t so hard on the equipment.”

  Even Sam chuckled a little at his brother’s lame attempt at humor, though the pain still showed on his face. Tony lightened the mood for him with a simple question. “Do you want to go up for a ride? Check out the interior?”

  A firm nod from Sam and Tony waved one of his Peacekeeper escorts over. “Uncle Jack can show you all around. He’s been on the tour several times. In fact, he’s already trying to talk me into letting him take one of these to the Bahamas. Like the place even still exists!”

  “Oh, it still exists. No way would the Brits ever let that place fall apart, even if the rest of the world came unglued,” Uncle Jack replied with mock offense.

  “You go and have a good time. Martin, you’re welcome to go too, but I wouldn’t mind you staying here to talk with us,” Alex said. He suddenly realized he was assuming that Tony and Nicole were here to meet with him. “Tony, I’m sorry, did you have an agenda for the visit?”

  “Just happy to be here and see you all,” Tony smiled. “I think we have a lot to catch up on.”

  Appalachia

  Lamar and Ty could smell a cook fire as they approached their camp. Here in the safety of Jefferson National Forest Congregation folk felt safe enough to cook, wrapped in the protection of thick forest and broken country. It had been over two years since any soldiers made the attempt to find them. The Elders of the Congregation warned their folk against complacency, but human nature was difficult to overcome when comfort was involved.

  “Halt, who goes there?” a deep voice shouted from a hidden blind.

  Ty froze and raised his hands, unable to see Lamar smile at the reaction of his apprentice.

  “Relax, Ty. If Roy wanted you dead or captured, you’d already be on the ground. Roy, come out before you give my cousin a heart attack,” Lamar said with a shout.

  Branches and leaves in human form rose up from beside a blackberry thicket. Then with one fluid motion a large man with a shaved head appeared from under a camouflage gunny hat.

  “Glad to see you home, Lamar,” Roy Mason said with a nod. “You too, Ty.” He eyed the strangers in Cog uniforms walking between his two friends. “I see you brought company for dinner.”

  “How long have you been watching us?” Ty demanded. The young man’s irritation at being tracked without his knowledge was clear.

  Lamar broke in before Roy could answer. “He started shadowing us about two miles back. I’m assuming he was testing us, is that right Roy?”

  Roy nodded. “And myself, chief. I wanted to see if I could track the best without being seen.”

  Lamar smiled at the man. Roy was a couple years older, but always respected Lamar’s woodland skills. Roy’s father had been an Army Ranger and developed some of the first field training programs used to sharpen the skills of Congregation sentries. Lamar learned quick and exhibited a special aptitude for the craft. To have his mentor’s son seek his approval spoke well of his achievements.

  “You did real good, Roy. Honest. Your gear gave you away is all. Couple of noises here and there let me know something out of place was around. We need to work on that for the entire Ranger team. How long have you been out here?” Lamar asked.

  “Just since yesterday afternoon. I’m pulling a 24 and then heading back in. Dad says that we shouldn’t try 48s right now. We need to keep everyone rotating,” Roy answered.

  Lamar nodded his head. “What have you seen?”

  “Animals are moving strange. Lots of deer headed up our way. Birds, too. And every once in a while I hear what sounds like a big bee buzzing overhead. But I haven’t seen anything clear. How about you?”

  Lamar grimaced. “We had our own run in with that buzzing noise. That led us to these two,” he replied and nodded towards his two captives. “Not sure what’s going on,” he replied to his friend. “We’re heading in to speak with the Elders now. Let’s get your relief out here so you can join in.”

  Roy and Lamar walked slowly towards the Congregation’s main camp. Even with the relative peace and safety of the woods, friendly fire was still a threat.

  Small but tidy huts scattered throughout the hillside. Most were single room dwellings, though occasionally multiple levels were present. Each were built around a large tree, adding both stability and camouflage to the community. Smaller dwellings were designed to be disassembled and moved in less than an hour, relying on the natural anchor of the trees as the structural foundation. You had to literally stumble into the camp to find it. Even then a stranger would be hard pressed to guess the number of people sheltered there.

  Roy veered off to one of the inner huts, being careful to sit and remove his irreplac
eable lace up boots on a wooden stool just outside the door. Even with the scavenging the group had done since the exodus from DC, they were running out of factory produced foot wear. Roy set the boots aside to be meticulously cleaned and repair later, then removed the camouflage harness he wore. Underneath he wore a full set of thermal underwear, long handles some of the Elders called them. He slipped on a pair of buckskin moccasins as he ducked his six foot tall frame into the hut he shared with his wife and infant daughter.

  He returned with a set of olive green coveralls on zipped all the way to top. They shepherded their prisoners to a large rock, winding their way around to the back side toward a narrow entrance braced by solid stone. They slipped inside, making the transition from the sun’s natural light to the glow of a tallow candle. They climbed up a narrow path, rising continually in elevation, the path illuminated by more candles set every ten feet or so. Voices grew louder up ahead and more light flowed onto the path until he arrived in a cavernous room. People milled about, stepping in and out of small rooms structures around the outside walls. The ceiling soared up above the reach of the freestanding lamps that burned brightly in the center courtyard.

  He waved the two prisoners to sit down in the corner of the room, and Roy tied their hands behind their back.

  “Lamar!” he heard someone shout, and then he was surrounded by family and friends. Pats on the back and hugs enveloped him until the group parted. Through the warm faces a confident woman limped up to greet him. Charlotte Jenkins seemed to swallow her son up in a hug, though he was a head taller with shoulders that dwarfed her own. “Next time don’t stay out so long son,” she said in his ear.

  Her words were met with a smile, and then a somber “We need to talk. All of us.”

  Charlotte simply nodded, a mixture of pride and sadness in her eyes. Every day her son became more like his father, and every day she missed her soulmate more than before. People were wrong, time didn’t heal all wounds.