Killswitch Chronicles- The Complete Anthology

by G. R. Carter

  Excalibur rolled past the corner of a large shed, and there, sitting in the middle of the wide-open courtyard, sat what he feared the most. The gun was tiny compared to the Razorback, and the barrel looked like it couldn’t hold anything large enough to punch through his massive mount.

  Fredericks knew better.

  He pushed the controls over as hard as he could, trying to get the body to turn. His gunner must have seen the same thing, unleashing his 30-caliber personal weapon as the gun crew crouched for cover behind the large square shield. One didn’t quite make it and spun backwards from the invisible impact. Luck, inexperience or distraction knocked their aim off just enough. Fredericks saw the recoil of the gun and felt Excalibur shudder with impact. A hit, but not a kill shot. The tracks made a terrible grinding sound and veered right. He pulled the throttle back, lining up his sights with the crew of the gun who worked feverishly to reload. One of the crew looked up, and seeing Excalibur’s cannon come to bear took off at a sprint.

  Fredericks fired. The entire gun and crew disappeared in a burst of flying pieces and debris as the canister shot tore through them. Hundreds of tiny ball bearings struck metal and flesh all at once. When the dust cleared, nothing larger than a shoe remained visible behind the twisted metal of the antitank gun.

  Fredericks could only watch as Bearkiller moved forward, firing canister shot into each and every building it came to. Viper did the same just to his right. Then two more Razorbacks came through, pivoting and looking for targets. He breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that he had got all his men and machines through the close-quarter assault with limited or no casualties besides Excalibur’s tread.

  Out of nowhere, a white cargo van came careening across the courtyard. It was loaded down, obvious from the rear end squatting over the wheels. Fredericks could see the driver’s young face, determined and locked on Viper. He tried to train his weapon on the van in time. Viper’s loader beat him to it, putting rounds of machine gun fire into the open cabin of the van. The driver was hit, disappearing in a spray of red and then pitching forward over the wheel. The front wheels turned sharply, throwing the van into a barrel roll. But it was close enough for momentum to tumble right towards Viper, trying to move as fast as it could away from the threat.

  Waves of intense heat made Fredericks gasp as the van was obliterated in the largest explosion he had ever experienced. Excalibur rocked with the concussion, and Fredericks’ ears rang. He stood back up in his station, taking in the Armageddon-like destruction. Every building around them was leveled and burning. In a huge crater just fifty meters away, Viper lay on its side, black smoke billowing out from what had been the engine compartment. Any piece of metal not forged into a solid block was twisted and torn. The visible track that remained was in pieces. The smaller drive wheels were gone, though the larger ones held on at odd angles.

  Fredericks’ head was still ringing as he tried to get a handle on the action. “SITREP!,” he yelled into the radio. No reply came, and he tried again. “SITREP!” His voice sounded odd in his bruised ears. Unable to get anyone to answer, he switched to the channel for just him and his loader. That didn’t work either. He felt woozy, almost drunk. His thoughts wouldn’t organize, he needed information, but he couldn’t figure out how to get it.

  Finally, Bearkiller crawled back up beside the immobile Excalibur. The once-beautiful cornfield camouflage paint job covering every inch of the machine was scarred and nicked. The drive wheels were chipped from bullet strikes. A black scorched scar ran down the side of her armor, right underneath the burnt red hawk symbol. The wound spoke clearly to an indirect hit from something much larger than a rifle.

  The blast shield opened. Alicia Beasley leaned out, giving her old mentor a thumbs-up. He watched her lips move and heard the muffled sound. “It’s over, sir. All the Vincy here surrendered, what’s left of them.”

  He nodded, then felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. He vomited without warning, then slumped against the back of his station, trying to hold himself up with the controls. His knees gave out. Concussion he thought. Deal with it later, now I need some sleep.

  Chapter Ten

  Banks of the Wabash River

  City of Vincennes

  Rays of sun began to peek through thick tree branches, reflecting off the smooth flow of the Wabash River. Brilliant white marble held its beauty in the morning light, still immaculate over a century after being quarried and built into a spectacular monument. Ornate columns soared to a perfect saucer top, holding a slogan more easily visible this morning with the way the shadows were cast on the relief:

  The Conquest of the West

  Alex took it in, wondering if he might change that to “The Conquest of the East.” He banished the thought. He was too much of a student of history to consider such a thing. This was sacred ground for the country of his childhood, and this memorial was built to honor George Rogers Clark, a fitting tribute to a skilled warrior who led a small force to victory against the western base of the world’s biggest superpower at the time.

  Nearly three centuries before, wars fought here on this very spot determined the destiny of the continent. One thing humans were always consistent on—fighting for control.

  “This was his office,” an elderly voice behind Alex said. “The Honorable General Nicolas Hopkins, I mean. Go on in, if you like. It’s pretty much just the way he left it when they marched south.”

  Alex turned to acknowledge the man looking up at the same spot he was. He couldn’t quite tell, but it looked like a tear was in the corner of the old man’s eyes. “I served the United States in two wars,” he said. “Caught the end of the Sandbox before I retired. Never expected to see civil war right here on the banks of the Wabash.”

  “British, French, American,” Alex said. “Shawnee, Miami, several other tribes, they all fought here. Who knows what kind of battles went on before recorded history? In a hundred years they’ll probably look back and add us to the list.”

  “I hope not, Mr. Founder. I hope you’re the last one to put your name in this park.”

  “Please, sir, just call me Alex.

  “And you can call me Estes Dunmore. Colonel, if you want to stay sorta formal.”

  “Very good, Colonel. You wear the uniform of Vincennes; I’m surprised to hear you say you’d rather stay in the hands of our Republic.”

  “I still consider myself an American…not the kind of American you all have. Though I reckon they’re good enough people. No sir…Alex…I mean the America of my youth, that kind of American. The country I enlisted to serve,” the old man replied. He was tearing up. The old-timers got this way when they talked about the past. Alex had the courtesy to look away and let the old man gather his emotions.

  Alex broke the uncomfortable silence. “My father, the original Founder of our Republic, felt the same way. He never wanted all this to happen. He taught—well, preached really—the Declaration of Independence to me. Said the United States lost her way, but he always believed she’d get back on track someday. That’s why I’m named the way I am.”

  Estes looked at Alex, slightly confused. “You weren’t named after Alexander the Great? Weren’t your father’s name Phillip?” the old man said in a unique southern Indiana accent. “That’s what General Hopkins always told us, you were some great conqueror reincarnate.”

  A stifled chuckle revealed the presence of Grayden Steinbrink, out of sight behind a column with two of Alex’s Silver Shield guards.

  Alex raised his visible eyebrow in a shut up, not now look to his friend. He turned back to the old man, who appeared more than a little irked at the perceived disrespect. “No, sir, I apologize for my men. They’ve been trapped in our Snappers too long, sucking in diesel fumes. It affects their manners.”

  The old man smiled with a far-off look. Veterans all seemed to recognize the camaraderie that was forged into brotherhood for those who’d seen combat together.

  Alex continued. “My full name is Alexander Jefferson Ham
ilton. My father became known as the Founder for two reasons. First, obviously, he was the literal Founder of our Republic, along with Clark Olsen and my mother-in-law Julia Ruff. The second reason was due in large part to a joke some of his friends used to tell. They called him the ‘Founding Farmer,’ said all he wanted to do was to recreate the Revolutionary War days of the original Founding Fathers.”

  The old man had his own chuckle and nodded his head. “I always wanted that, too. Just weren’t enough of us who felt that way anymore. Too many takers, not enough makers.”

  “With respect, sir, you still haven’t answered my question. Why did you surrender the city to us? I’m sure with your experience you could have made life really difficult for my men. You could have held us off for days or even weeks, judging by the way the city was fortified.”

  “To what end?” he replied, straightening his back and broadening his shoulders. His mood changed, darker and more serious. “I know you’re a good man, Founder Hamilton. Despite what General Hopkins said about you. Enough truth slipped through intelligence reports for those of us in the know to get a good grasp on who you really were as a leader. But I also know you would have leveled this entire city to save a single one of your Red Hawk’s lives. I know the story of Springfield…”

  Alex began to object to the accusation, then stopped. Estes was right, he would have pounded Vincennes into submission. His losses so far in this campaign were well below what could have been reasonably expected when they first rolled out. Yet he felt each and every loss personally. Martin Fredericks was injured, not severely but enough to keep him lying in a darkened room recuperating from a head injury. Without the skills of his most trusted officer, he’d have played it safe. The civilians of Vincennes would have suffered terribly.

  “I didn’t want any of this,” Alex told him. “I always wanted Vincennes as an ally, not an enemy.”

  Estes looked down at his aged hands, interlocking his fingers as if to say a prayer. “I believe you. But we’re all pawns in the game, Founder Hamilton. Even you…although you get to plan a few moves for yourself, I guess.”

  “I don’t take your meaning, Colonel.”

  “Vincennes was one little town, never more than a few thousand civilians and a thousand Marines stranded here. We fared better than most; with refugees we swelled to about twenty thousand. But we were still just a spot of a map. Your Republic covers a lot of territory…”

  “And we’ve got a lot of people.”

  “But not compared to a major nation from before the Reset.”

  “Nobody does, Colonel. That’s the point. We’re kind of alone out here,” Alex objected.

  “Maybe you don’t have all the information,” the Colonel replied and smirked. “We have a young man here in our prison. He says he’s from Virginia. What used to be Virginia that is. Jenkins is his name…really bright kid. Wait until you hear his story. According to him the entire east coast ruling class survived the Reset and they’re moving down to the southeast United States.”

  “I’ve heard these stories from the Creeks, Colonel. I don’t have time for fairy tales. I’ve got belligerents like your General to deal with. He’s very real; so is ARK, and so is the Caliphate. I’ve got a thousand-mile frontier to defend.” Alex was losing his patience. He had agreed to meet the Colonel this morning and accept his surrender. He wanted to get this done and over with so he could move on to the next phase of digging in for Hopkins’ counterattack he was sure would come anytime.

  “I used to think it was all a terrible fiction. I couldn’t believe my government—our government—would do such a thing to people. Leave us to die in the cold and dark while they made sure the ruling class had enough. But they did, Founder Hamilton. They flipped the killswitch on us and left us behind.”

  Estes sensed Alex’s frustration. “Hear me out, son. What if I told you I don’t think Hopkins is coming back here?”

  That got the Red Hawk Founder’s attention. “This is his capital city, his pride and joy! There’s no way he’ll let me keep it without a fight.”

  “You overestimate his loyalty to Vincennes. Remember, Hopkins was on his way to Federal DC when the Reset hit. Nearly every other military unit had been disbanded, but not his. How many other career officers were relieved of their commands before the Reset? I don’t expect you to know, you were just a teenager then. Maybe younger? Anyway, General Hopkins was loyal to the President and his minions. That’s why he was selected to bring his Marines to the capital.”

  Alex shook his head. “I never knew that. He never said a word, I just assumed…”

  “Right, you assumed he was just an innocent victim of circumstance, like the rest of you. You thought he just wanted to help his people survive, huh? Well he never stopped wondering about what happened out there. He sent scouts every few months, trying to get them to the capital. The Creeks stopped most of them. One of the many reasons he hates those people,” Estes stopped and wagged a finger at Alex. “I know those Creeks are your friends, but I don’t care much for them either.”

  “They have that effect on people,” Alex agreed.

  “Part of the reason the Creeks hate the General so much is he stole this Jenkins fellow from them. The Virginian. The Creeks wanted you to meet him, hear his story. Hopkins said he’d debrief and then share the info with you all. But he didn’t.”

  “What’s this got to do with Hopkins not counterattacking? Why wouldn’t he want to get Vincennes back?”

  The old man started walking up the marble stairs towards the glass entrance of the monument. “Did you know he changed our flag? There’s one left inside for you to look at. It’s not the old United States flag with a V in the blue field anymore. Now it’s all black with a V inside a circle.”

  “Again, forgive me, Estes,” Alex replied as he followed a step behind. “But we’ve got a lot to do today and not a lot of time to get it done. If I can just have your word that my men won’t be attacked by any of the Vincennes troops, I’ll guarantee the safety of your civilians.”

  “There are no more Vincennes troops, Alex,” Estes replied, dropping any remaining formality. “Just old men, some local women and children. The Marines are all gone, and they took their spouses with them. Go out and look at their estates around town. They’re empty, personal effects are all gone. Only those of us who were native to Vincennes are left. The ones who married one of Hopkin’s Marines—you can imagine that was a status symbol here since the Reset—are gone, too.”

  “I knew it was too easy,” Alex said, as much to himself as to Estes. Then he suddenly realized the implication. “Where were they going? They weren’t going to just set up in Evansville, that’s not much of an upgrade from here. Unless he wanted to be on the Ohio River?”

  Estes shook his head. “Further than that I think. But I’m not sure where. I think the Evansville attack was a distraction to get the Creeks to focus their attention there. A head fake, so to speak. No, he’s heading south somewhere. I wasn’t privy, but most of the servants in the Marine estates were native Vincennes. I taught them to keep their mouths shut and their ears open.

  “See, that Jenkins fella told Hopkins all about the Federals still being in operation out east. They were part of something called Continuity of Government. It was a plan sketched out when the United States and the old Soviet Union were inches away from obliterating each other. The idea being if all the elected leadership in DC was taken out in an attack, some of these expert types in the capital could take over and keep the country running,” Estes said.

  Alex shrugged at the idea. “Actually, sounds pretty logical to me. We have something similar if I don’t make it back.”

  “Yeah but the disaster was man made in this case. Something to do with the climate changing, so the Continuity of Government types plan to move the capital to the southeastern United States.” Estes shook the same finger at Alex. “See, Mr. Founder, you might not believe in fairy tales, but the General sure did. He redoubled his efforts to get scouts
out, and one made it back. He’d found the Federals. They must have made an offer to Hopkins of some kind, because after that it was constant prepping for a permanent vacation. I didn’t recognize it then. I thought it was for the Evansville attack, then figured he’d roll up Louisville and Cincy after that. Long campaign. Maybe even a move on Clarksville against the Creeks. I thought he had delusions of empire like you do…no offense meant.”

  “Some taken,” Alex replied with a mixture of real and fake outrage. “So why wouldn’t I assume the same thing? He’s just out on extended campaign.”

  “Hopkins didn’t believe in taking civilians anywhere. For any reason. But he figured a lot of the Marines wouldn’t have left behind their families. No, Mr. Founder. Our General has left the building, and left us behind just like the government did over a decade ago.”

  An ill feeling crept into Alex’s gut. “Why did your people fight us at the prison outside Carlisle? If Hopkins abandoned them, they were fighting for nothing.”

  “He told us that we needed to stop you as far north as we could. That if we made a stand at the prison it would slow you down. You’d have to be looking for an ambush at every bridge, every tree line,” Estes said.

  “I can’t imagine he has a lot of anti-tank weapons. He’d have to know eventually we’d over run the prison,” Alex replied. “That’s a valuable asset to throw away.”

  “Hopkins said there was no armor in Evansville. Said he didn’t need them there.”

  “And his air force? Sam said he was facing real life fighter planes up there,” Alex said.

  “They were supposed to hit your attack planes. Knock out as many as they could. Then they would refuel and head south to join the main column. You surprised them on the ground, they were waiting to launch until the last minute to save fuel. You got lucky,” Estes said.

  Alex sighed. “Not all of them. That nasty little surprise cost me three Raptors, and almost my brother.”

  The tears came back to the old man’s eyes. “I lost a grandson at that prison,” he said.