Killswitch Chronicles- The Complete Anthology

by G. R. Carter

  “All right, Nielsen, tell me what we have planned,” he said, staring down at Marcus. The Governor was well over six feet tall, with the broad shoulders and narrow waist of an athletic man in his prime. With reduced nutrition since the Reset, future generations would be shorter than their ancestors. But not the aristocratic families; they would count on protein intake, genetics and noble marriages, to keep the height and muscle of their American ancestors. Eric was aware that his physical features got people’s attention and he used that to his advantage.

  Nielsen felt the weight of Olsen’s glare, pretending to wilt in front of it. He pushed his worn plastic-framed glasses up on his nose and pulled out a prized paper notepad, an increasingly rare luxury.

  “The evening will start with a reception in the capitol's assembly room, then dinner in the grand dining hall,” Nielsen reported.

  Gleaming white walls and pillars graced the provincial capital’s main hub, once serving as an Appellate courthouse. Twin black iron staircases wound around to the entrance, providing a beautiful contrast to the two hundred -year old building's classic Greek Revival architecture. Interior decorations were the grandest in all of the Republic, with wood and stone-arched doorways offset by antique rugs and paintings. The highlight was the assembly room, which housed Grand Shawnee’s House of Neighbors on the rare occasion that they were in session. More often, the gorgeous chandelier hanging under the twenty-two-foot-high ceilings were seen by important guests of the Olsens. Maryanne made sure to have a steady stream of dignitaries on the invite list to stay in Mt. Vernon. With travel being so hard and expensive, you had to have two visits booked assuming one might cancel.

  “We’ll have dinner in the great hall, and then drinks and cigars in the library,” Nielsen continued. “Maleah can entertain some of them, she does very well with a crowd,” he said, referring to the newest Mrs. Olsen.

  Eric laughed out loud, thinking of his great hall versus most of the Fortress Farms. “I’m glad we don’t have to have this in some drafty old machine shed a hillbilly Land Lord calls a great hall.” Their province building plans eschewed the Republic’s standard blueprint of building large fortresses out on the prairie, instead opting for a system of fortified villages along the still-passable main highways. Maryanne developed the system by studying the settlement plans of the French and British settlers who first explored the area hundreds of years ago. With so much broken terrain and wooded areas in the land between the great rivers, the sight lines of the Fortress Farm towers didn’t hold as much value here. Instead, Shawnee built a system of forts, except this time instead of wooden palisades their engineers used concrete boxes.

  Maryanne broke in, “Representatives from ARK and Vincennes will both be here. Evansville and Mt. Horab, too. Rumor has it that Hamilton will offer to make them full partners in a larger alliance. I haven’t got all the details, but it sounds as though it might be a full integration, like a merger of equals.”

  Eric was stunned. “Why am I just now hearing about this?”

  Maryanne paused, not sure if he was angry with her or because he had not been informed by Alex about something so important. “I only confirmed the report tonight. We get a lot of rumors through here; 95% aren’t true. This one might actually be.”

  “How dare he pull such a stunt? And in my capital!” Eric fumed, building up the rage again that dissipated just a few moments before.

  “Governor Olsen, if I may,” Nielsen said, bowing his head slightly in reverence. “Please, sir, see this as an opportunity. Geographically, Grand Shawnee is closer to ARK and to Vincennes. If they are admitted as full partners, with complete voting rights, that in itself has already changed the balance of power in the Republic. Founder Hamilton is so anxious to create a new version of the United States, he fails to realize the political implications of adding so much so quickly.”

  “Hamilton has never once said anything about creating a new United States. Where do you get that idea?” Eric demanded.

  “I believe it’s apparent in his actions. Ever since the defeat of the Americans, he’s been trying to integrate their people and their territory as quickly as possible. Supposedly it’s to guard against invasion from the Northern Caliphate, but I think that’s only half of it. Look how distracted he is, he’s let you and Mrs. Olsen carry out your economic reforms with almost no interference. Even let you run most of the Buckles out to Mt. Horab. Julia Ruff was supposed to be here looking over your shoulder, instead he’s had her working with Vincennes and Evansville. You already know how close he is with ARK,” Nielsen said.

  “How do you know all this? Besides my mother’s rumor mill, I mean,” Eric demanded.

  “I read the paper,” Nielsen said with a smile, pointing down at a library table holding a stack of Republic Times, printed on discolored paper recycled from every remaining scrap the publishers could find.

  “Hilarious, Nielsen. Lucky for you the only thing I hate worse than intellectuals are the Buckles and the Jijis. Will everyone be staying at Tecumseh House?” Eric asked, referring to the former Jefferson County Courthouse now serving as the Governor’s mansion. Nearly matching the Capitol in architectural beauty, the Olsen family was still converting the building’s office space into palatial VIP apartments. It was mostly complete, at least the part that their visitors would see.

  “Everyone but the Hamiltons,” Maryanne answered. “They’ve decided to stay at the Unified Cathedral with Bishop Bonner. No surprise there, I suppose.”

  “Of course they would stay there, putting on the pious act as always. I’m sure they’ll get an earful from Bonner about us harassing the Buckles. Oh well, it will keep the pig stink out of our new rugs,” Eric chuckled.

  “It also helps you in another way, sir,” Nielsen offered. “The Founder’s absence at the palace gives you the undivided attention of the allies coming to visit. Surely you and your charming wife can take the opportunity of less formal meetings at night over coffee and wine to discuss future endeavors?”

  Eric glared at Nielsen, considering what the Chief of Staff’s motivation might be for making such a comment. Even after all this time, he still felt suspicious of any servants working for Shawnee. He always wondered who they were reporting back to; Maryanne had paid ears in the other capitals. Satisfied to detect no deception, he flashed his smile at Maryanne again. “Okay, Mom. I’m starting to see why you keep this Nielsen guy around.”

  “I only wish to be helpful, sir. The glory of Grand Shawnee is my only goal,” Marcus Nielsen said with a warm smile.

  Chapter Nine

  Grand Tower Island

  Mt. Horab Forward Operating Base

  Mississippi River

  Levi Marshall finished picking up the last of the tools left out from the day’s work. The metal sheeting was damp and a little slick but not so dangerous if he took his time. He already sent his crew in for the evening, giving them the chance to be first in the supper line and get the best chance at a second mug of beer before the rack bell rang. He had another motive, though: being out here in the relative quiet helped him think.

  The day had started well enough, getting enough done during the morning to promise the bossman they’d be done with the whole thing by the next day. But by the afternoon, the bossman was gone and Levi found himself in charge of the river rats. Running ramrod on a project like this wasn’t his choice, but you took the job asked of you without complaint. Many would kill to have the steady work he enjoyed and the full belly that came with it. Still, the extra responsibility worried him, especially since the Electors were looking to expand into multiple job sites all at once. Meaning he’d be losing some of his experienced guys to lead other crews and training a bunch of new guys for his own.

  The last bit of sunlight faded out leaving only the solar storms and moon struggling to shine a little through the gloom. He looked at the River Belle: lights glaring from every window, just as they were 24 hours a day. The enemy of the dark, and the things lurking in the dark, was light. The E
lectors made sure the workers out here always got their fuel allotment to run the generators. Keeping the lights on was a priority; most everyone still remembered vividly the weeks right after the Tribulation killed the electrical grid, and demons crawled out from the shadows.

  Not quite a shadow, more like a silhouette crossed in front of a lower deck window. Then another, then a third and fourth. Evenly spaced and skulking, not swaggering like the river rats would have on their way in for food and beer after a long shift. He tried to think about what might be going on. His mind ran first to the Stewards; perhaps they were doing a sort of drill? No, Chief would have never pulled a stunt like this before running it by me. Too many bad things have happened in the past to go scaring guys like that, he assured himself. Terror struck him. Ditchers? No, they’re never that organized or disciplined. Thieves? Maybe, but why go where all the people are?

  The thought made his stomach drop. Worse than ditchers or thieves could only be…

  An ear cracking bang–bang! thundered from the River Belle. Shouts and screams arose as the lights flickered and then the whole ship went dark. Levi ran towards the boat as quickly as he could without slipping, trying to keep his eyes on any kind of movement inside. He felt naked, no weapon of any sort save for a foot-long wrench he still gripped in his hand.

  Gunfire ripped through the darkness, making him flinch involuntarily. On he ran until he got to the gangplank leading from the pier into the boat. He stopped right outside the door, throwing himself up against the wall and letting his breathing calm down for a moment. He could hear men moaning, and some sort of commotion just inside. The moon’s reflection caught the long black barrel of an assault rifle peeking through the door, moving slightly left, then back right. Without thinking, Levi grabbed the barrel in his strong right hand and pulled with all his might. The rifle came forward with resistance until a man dressed in all black with goggles and a blacked-out face stood in front of him. In an instant, Levi swung the wrench across the side of the man’s jaw, bringing a sickening thud. The crunching bone vibrated through the wrench’s metal handle, knocking the man unconscious as much from the pain as the blow. In the heat of the moment, Levi brought the wrench back, again swinging straight down onto the goggles.

  “Levi…” a voice rasped. “Levi, they’re downstairs. They’re going after the ARK guys. Levi, you can’t let them get our plans.”

  The fog of confusion finally wore off, and he realized who the voice belonged to. “Mr. Cooper? I don’t understand. Who are these guys?” he whispered back.

  “ARK. They’re here to take back their ships and their men. It has to be them. They think we’re all down, they’ll search through the offices upstairs. You can’t let them see the plans. Promise me.”

  “Okay, Mr. Cooper. I need to get you guys some help. Where’s the Chief and the Stewards?” Levi asked. He was getting worried; the ARK men might show back up at any time.

  “All dead, or down at least. The first grenade got them. They had silencers on their rifles. Chief barely got a few shots off. It’s up to…”

  The sound of men climbing upstairs from the lower level stopped the conversation. Levi heard a brief whistle, then another after a few moments. Silence pounded in Levi’s ears.

  A booming voice called out. “I don’t know who you are, but if you got our man, this is going to end bad for you. Now let him go and start running. We won’t chase you. We’re just here to get what belongs to us.”

  Levi didn’t know what to say. His heart was pounding. He took a better grip on the dead man’s rifle still in his hand after the fight. “We’ve got three ships on the way here now,” Levi shouted back with whatever force he could muster. “They’ll be here any minute, so maybe you better throw down your weapons.” He waited a moment to see what the reply would be. Instead the doorway exploded with splintered wood as the ARK commandos unloaded their weapons on the area where they thought Levi hid.

  Levi fell prone on the deck, trying to crawl away and still cradle the rifle like he had learned in militia training. He reached the corner of the outer wall, then sprung up and stuck his rifle through the shattered window. He pulled the trigger and click. He cursed himself and clicked off the safety, then stuck the weapon back through and squeezed the trigger again. The night lit up bright as day with the muzzle flash, the sharp cracks shocking to his ears even without the sound that typically accompanied an automatic weapon. Without waiting to see the results he fell back to the floor and waited for the return fire. As expected, the window and wall exploded with splinters, showering him with debris even as he crawled toward another window.

  The realization dawned on him that he had taken the man’s weapon, but no extra ammunition. Likely the long burst he just fired had expended most of his available rounds. He sat and huffed for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts and come up with a plan. Could run, I guess. Find a way to get help. But then it would be too late to stop these guys. They’ll get the men and the boats and probably our plans. Besides, they hurt my men. His pride said they shouldn’t get away with that kind of thing. As the seconds ticked by, he became more desperate for a solution. His mind was so intent on searching for a solution that he failed to notice the black-clad man now standing next to him, long-barreled rifle pointed at his face.

  “Don’t move, river rat,” the voice growled. Levi flinched, nearly bringing the rifle to bear but catching himself. “The only reason I’m leaving you alive is to help us find what we’re looking for. Screw that up and I’ll gut you and throw you in the river for the gar to finish. You got me?”

  Levi nodded his head, not sure if the man could see him but his mouth was too dry to speak. “L.T., I got him,” the man shouted in.

  “Good work,” the inside voice replied. “Give us a second, we’re coming out.”

  Levi tried to catch his breath, feeling all the adrenaline turning his brain and stomach into knots.

  “Grenade!” the voice from inside shouted, then a crashing explosion lit up the boat again. Distracted by the surprise, Levi’s captor took his eyes off him for just a moment. Levi sprung back to his feet, grabbing the ARK commando by the arms and head-butting him with all his force. The ARK man was strong even while stunned, trying to wrestle himself away. But Levi was a river rat, a deckhand who fought metal and the current every daylight hour of every day; hand-to-hand training couldn’t replicate that in a gym, not even in military exercise. Rage at the damage done to his friends and his work gave him extra strength as he squeezed the breath out of the man. Levi gave a mighty twist at the head and shoulders, and the commando fell to the deck floor like a sack of potatoes.

  “Cooper! Chief? You guys in there?”

  He picked up the dead commando’s weapon, making sure the safety was off this time, then grabbed two extra magazines from the belt he wore. He crouch-walked around the bow deck, the way the dead man had snuck up on him. He peeked through a window, trying to spot any kind of movement. He didn’t want to fire randomly, hoping some of his men still lived.

  “We give up!” he heard from inside. A different voice than before, and this one sounded hurt. “This wasn’t our idea, don’t kill us for it.”

  “You’re lying. How many are still left in there?”

  “Just the crew. Name’s Bisso. I served on Firefly. Me and three other guys are here, but the guys who came to get us are all down, dead I think. Someone pulled a grenade and tackled them.”

  “Levi, it’s me, Cooper,” his comrade shouted from inside. “The guy’s telling the truth. Chief took them all out with that grenade. I don’t know if there’s more outside, but they’re all dead in here.”

  “Okay, Mr. Cooper. I’m coming in,” Levi yelled back. He paused for a moment. Outside? Were these guys alone? Is there a boat out there with more men?

  “Hey you, Bisso,” Levi asked, still shouting through the window. “How’d those guys get here? They got a ship coming to pick you up?”

  “Nah. We were supposed to drive Firefly out of here
, gonna tow Wasp with her. Be back upstream before anybody realized we were gone,” Bisso answered.

  Levi was inside by the time he finished the sentence.

  “Get up here and help me tend to the wounded,” he shouted at the man. “Mr. Cooper, how bad you hurt?”

  “Just a broken arm, I think. Shock’s starting to wear off so it hurts like the devil. Give me a hand splinting it and I can help see about some of the other guys.”

  Levi lit a lamp, then got Cooper’s arm in a sling, all while keeping an eye on Bisso and the others. “Mr. Cooper, you think we can get on the wireless and radio for help?”

  Cooper nodded. “I believe so. But I’m not sure anyone is close right now. And I’m guessing this won’t be the last we see of ARK. Once they realize this group failed, they probably won’t be so subtle next time.”

  “Subtle, right. Okay, here’s what we’ll do. We get all the wounded onto those ARK boats. Then we’ll take them down river to home as fast as we can. At least we’ll run into someone friendly not too far from here, right? Get our guys home, scuttle those cursed boats if needs be.”

  “Let’s do it. That first grenade that went off in here was a concussion blast, so hopefully some of the guys are just knocked out. I should be able to get them to come around with the smelling salts in the first aid kit,” Cooper said.

  “Alright. I’ll take our friend Bisso here and get those boats to movin’. Then we’ll see about getting our guys on board. Let’s hurry, Mr. Cooper, time’s running out on us.”

  Chapter Ten

  Sky above Grand Tower Island

  Mississippi River

  Admiral Elias Romano watched as Grand Tower Island came into view 1500 feet below. He kept the nose of ARKShip Tulsa pointed directly over the brown strip of river, leading him to a green-gray colored teardrop shape sitting directly in the middle of the channel. According to his map, this was the landmark pointing to their target. From the island, he scanned the eastern bank, searching for any signs of recent human activity. The river wasn’t kind to the hand of man. Even with the destruction of the northern levees, the grand old man still escaped his banks every couple of years. Without constant maintenance of humans, the irresistible force swept clean most of their creations reclaiming the land inch by inch in the less than two decades since nine in ten folks perished.