The Gathering Storm

by Marshall Miller

  Sarah’s chin quivered, and soon a tear appeared, running down her left cheek.

  “Turn off the waterworks, Sarah. I’ll help find him. I need him a lot more than apparently you do. Here’s a box of tissues. Sit over there, next to Mary Lou’s desk.” He dialed Jane’s phone.

  “Morning, Sir!” Jane answered immediately. “If you are looking for a certain Professor Fassbinder, he is all cleaned up and headed toward the Science and Engineering Building.”

  Adam stared at his phone. “Major, have you been hiding the fact that you are clairvoyant all these months?”

  “No, Sir. Just trying to anticipate your orders. Sir.”

  “Could you please stop by my office for a moment?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Adam hung up the phone, and turned back to Sarah. She began sobbing. He stood where he was. He had never been married, never lived with a woman, prior to bringing his three ladies here to live with him. He knew that Joseph had loved her dearly once, but she may have finally killed that love.

  Sarah finally stopped crying, and blew her nose. “Director, what will become of me?”

  “I suspect that is entirely up to you.”

  She laughed harshly. “Really? I’m only here because of Joseph. Why didn’t you just kill me and dump my body in the mangroves?”

  “That seems a tad unnecessary. Contrary to what everyone believes, I actually do care about my fellow man… and woman. I did not lie at the briefing. You can stay or go this morning. We will provide transportation back to where you lived.”

  Sarah sniffed, blew her nose again. “What can I do here?”

  “Well, Professor, you could teach. I was told you were quite the interesting lecturer in your early years. As long as you do not try to incite revolution by stirring crap up, you could help teach the younger folks. Most had their formal education interrupted. I do believe they are the future.”

  Sarah looked at him. “But I don’t actually have a choice, do I?

  “As I said before, yes, you do. I want actual volunteers. I’m working to turn North America back into a livable place again, not just a place where people survive in a hand-to-mouth existence. We have made great strides in the last year in the Tschaaa controlled area. Food is now being distributed. Hospitals have been set up. Televisions, radio, and the internet are all making a comeback. It takes time after an all out war. Look at World War Two and the Marshall Plan.”

  “What about the rest of the country, Director? What about the Cattle Country, the Unoccupied States?”

  Adam shook his head. “I can only help those who I have the power to help. Frankly, the Tschaaa would just as soon let the interior states go to hell, as they have nothing the Tschaaa want. The Tschaaa leave them alone, and hopefully they leave the Tschaaa alone.”

  Adam continued. “I know that you are going to say things are unfair. The universe does not have a ‘fairness doctrine’. Creatures are born, live, and die every day on various worlds, all subject to variations of Darwinian evolution. The strongest and fittest do survive to procreate, and work their way to the top of the food chain. Unfortunately, what we would at one time have referred to as people of color are currently at the bottom of the food chain. If we... if I am not careful, we could be right there with them.”

  Sarah was silent. Adam knew she was trying to resolve her inner conflict between her personal survival versus the unfairness of the situation. She did not want to admit she had no power right now to make a difference. Rights and fairness are concepts that work when all sides come from a framework of the same basic moral concepts. If the side with the power decides that your opinions do not matter, and they have no recognizable moral conscience, then the world turns to hell very quickly. The Squids were the Nazis, and humans were the Jews, humans existing due to the sufferance of the Squids. Sarah took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

  “I suppose for once in my life, I will have to admit I am pretty powerless. That is a concept completely foreign to me.”

  “Believe me, Sarah, you are not alone. I had to come to the same conclusion five years ago.”

  “I will do as you ask as long as I can for my own, and Joseph’s, survival. When feel I can no longer do so, you will be the first to know.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Major Grant arrived at that moment. “Director, you called.”

  “Good Morning, Major. Would you be so kind as take the Professor back to her quarters so that she can freshen up a bit, and then see that someone gets her to Training and Education?”

  Jane smiled. “My pleasure, Sir.” She addressed the Professor. “Ma’am, if you would come with me, please.” She escorted Sarah to the winding staircase that led up to the Director’s complex.

  As they left, Adam sighed to himself. “I’m getting too old for this shit.” He went back to his office and retrieved the satchel and briefcase that he needed for the meeting with Lord Neptune. This already had all the makings of a very long day.

  Jane had a security troop drive her and Sarah to her quarters. She walked Sarah up to the door, where Sarah finally spoke to her. “Major, if I may ask, how is Joseph?”

  “As well as can be expected.” Jane paused. “Professor, I know little about you and won’t presume to tell you how to live your life. But take this as friendly advice. Your husband is a fine man, well respected by some survivors here who knew him before the rocks. If you want to continue being his wife, please, cut him some slack. There are those here that would willingly swap places with you, and be his partner. I think you have another chance if you want it. He’s a man of honor who loves you.”

  Sarah blinked back her tears. “Thank you, Major. I will strive to remember that.”

  “Please give me a call when you have a chance, Professor. I mean that.”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  Jane left Sarah and walked back to the vehicle. As she was driven to the Communications and Broadcasting Center to meet Kathy Monroe, she thought, What an idiot that woman is. I wish I would have been the one to meet Joseph ten years ago.

  The aforementioned Joseph was in front of the Science and Engineering Building, trying to determine if it was too early to check in for work. He was still in the process of deciding when he was distracted by the most colorful former FedEx delivery truck he had ever seen. Written on the side in large red, white and blue letters was “Conch Republic Eats. Drinks. Sundry Items. You Wants It, We Gets It.”

  Joseph noticed that the driver’s side had been modified by cutting a large access window with a small counter as the bottom sill. The window was open, though it looked like there were large fold down flaps inside to secure the opening. Emanating from the mobile kitchen inside were the most delicious aromas. His mouth watering, Joseph began checking his pockets for money. At first, all he found were some coins left over from his bout of drinking. Then tucked away in his wallet, he found something he had almost forgot he had, his lucky two dollar bill. The Director said they still used good old ‘greenbacks’ as tender, as there were now so many left in relation to the numbers of survivors. But, he had had this bill for so long. His stomach growled.

  “Professor Fassbinder! Is that you?” A female voice called out. Perhaps his old two dollar bill would generate some luck once again.

  He turned toward the voice, which belonged to an attractive young lady with red hair and freckles. Right behind her was a young man, red hair and freckles also. Instantly he noticed the strong family resemblance.

  “It is you. My God, I thought someone was making it up. You did survive.” The young lady started to throw her arms around him, but stopped when she saw the confused expression on his face.

  “I’m sorry. Of course you don’t recognize us. Remember Sandy and Samuel Olson, the ‘Olson twins’? We were first year aeronautical engineering students in your class. We bugged the crap out of you until you let us help you with your research project.”

  He struggled to place them, and finally recognition kicked in. The Ols
on twins. They were young geniuses who had started college at age sixteen, and had managed to get assigned to his department. His eyes teared up as he realized there was another human being from his past that had survived. They were few and far between.

  He threw his arms around her as he yelled, “My God! You both made it!” Soon they were both crying. People coming out of the building gave them space. Scenes like these repeated themselves all over the former U.S.A., as survivors found the familiar faces of family, friends, coworkers, and former neighbors. It was the new reality.

  Next Samuel joined in, wrapping him in a bear hug. The group remained encircled for about another half minute, before they stepped back from each other. Joseph looked for something to wipe his eyes, and a voice from the food truck called, “Here. Just give it back.” A rolled up towel hit him in the side of his head.

  He and his newly rediscovered friends each used different corners to wipe eyes, and blow noses. The Olson twins gave him a quick update (without the gory details). They had somehow survived in the basement of a school dormitory that had been an old civil defense shelter in days gone by. It even had some old rations and survival hard candy that kept them alive for a couple of months. They emerged, bumped into a couple of other survivors, and headed for the hills.

  After the first couple of months, the fact they were ‘red headed white people’ seemed to result in them being ignored by harvesters. Pale skin and freckles seemed to put them off. Living hand to mouth, three years later they bumped into one of the Director’s foraging expeditions, saw what side of the bread the butter was on, and joined in. The former fresh-faced youngsters were gone, replaced by seasoned survivors.

  “Are you hungry?” Samuel finally asked.

  “Yes, but I’m afraid I’m short of funds. Maybe the Department will give me an advance…”

  “Forget it. My treat and I’ll order for us. The mystery meat burritos are to die for.”

  Joseph frowned. “Mystery meat?”

  Samuel and Sandy laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s good quality meat. They just won’t tell us all the different types of animals that are in it.” They sat down at a nearby table, apparently provided to service the meal truck. Joseph soon had two large burritos, and a bottle of “near beer”. To insure adequate and potable water, pasteurization of drinks in one way or the other was called for. Thus, the Conch Brewery made near beer–probably one percent alcohol on a good day–as a staple.

  Joseph was about to wipe his mouth on the towel over his shoulder, when he remembered. “Oh. Wait a minute, please.” He grabbed the towel that had been thrown at him and walked to the truck.

  “Excuse me. Here is you towel back, rather used. Thank you so very much.”

  A gorgeous woman with jet black hair locked her twinkling dark eyes with his, and grinned. “Don’t mention it. Just remember the Conch Republic was there when needed, and I’m here every morning, rain or shine. Come and spend money, eat, get gas!” As she turned away, he saw her hair covered a large scar on the left side of her face. Even the scar did not detract from her extreme attractiveness. Sandy giggled as Joseph returned back to his friends.

  “And Jolene, one of the Admiral’s many daughters, captures another heart. Will the spell last? Or is the Professor able to break the magic that has enslaved so many. Including my own poor brother.”

  Samuel blushed a bright red. “If you weren’t my twin… I’d make you regret those words.”

  Sandy laughed. “If I were not your twin sister, then the only fight I would be having is a good old-fashioned catfight with the local women for your attention! You see, my brother is seen as a very desirable catch by the local Conchettes. A couple have already come to face scratching and hair pulling over him.” She snickered. “But not Jolene, much to his frustration.”

  Samuel kept blushing. “Just because I’m more attractive to the girls than you are to the guys isn’t my fault.”

  Joseph broke in before he stuffed his mouth with burrito, “So, there’s a lot of interaction with the locals?”

  Sandy answered, “In a word, hell yes. They provide a lot of the local amenities, not only this meal truck but some general stores, restaurants and–my brother can attest to this personally–a bunch of bars and entertainment spots. Including at least two brothels.”

  Samuel couldn’t stop blushing. He mumbled. “Just you wait. I might fight you yet.”

  Sandy continued. “After you get settled in, we’ll take you on the grand tour.” Joseph felt her hand on his thigh beneath their table. He suddenly realized that the former sixteen year old student was now an adult auburn-haired beauty, who was giving him smoldering looks. Did the heat in Key West make turn up everyone’s personal temperature?

  Samuel looked at his watch. “Eat up! Then we will take you in and introduce you to our Section Chief.”

  Still chewing on the best burrito he had ever tasted, Joseph managed to mumble, “Ours?”

  Sandy smiled. “Yeah, you’re going to be stuck with us again. We’re assigned to the same project. We may even be going up in the space plane with you.”

  This day was getting curiouser and curiouser.

  CHAPTER 8

  MALMSTROM ARMED FORCES BASE, GREAT FALLS, MONTANA

  Even in times of war, or in some ways, especially in times of war, close friendships are developed even as relationships with others on the proverbial same side become extremely acrimonious.

  - Excerpts from the Literary Works of Princess Akiko, Free Japan Royal Family.

  Torbin was headed over to the main hangar on what was once Malmstrom Air Force Base, now Malmstrom Armed Forces Base. It was just before noon, and he had already been up for hours. At 8:30am, he had been the first customer at the Base Exchange, flying through the relatively well-stocked women’s undergarment section.

  Creative scavenging of abandoned towns in the surrounding former states, as well as into Canada, had produced a large supply of various and sundry items. The post-invasion decrease of the population of the Unoccupied States accounted for part of the surplus. Additionally, various cottage industries producing consumables had sprung up among the locals.

  Torbin guessed the clerk secretly suspected he was some pervert when he bought a quantity of women’s unmentionables, all of very similar sizes. A little prompting of Aleksandra had helped confirm his suspicions based on his, shall we say “sizing experience”, and he had sought to buy everything he could. He then grabbed some feminine hygiene products, perfumes, deodorant, makeup, and frilly doodads.

  His last stop was at the silk screening and embroidery shop run by his friend Mike, a disabled Gulf War vet. Torbin had provided him with lot of ideas for his products, including “I Kissed a Marine and All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt.” He bought three.

  Mike used the “you’ve got to be kidding” look he often gave Torbin.

  “Ask me no questions, and I will tell you no lies,” Torbin responded.

  “Tell me later, over a beer. You’re buying,” Mike retorted.

  Torbin grinned, and then left. He put together three identical packages, then tracked the Russian female officers down at the chow hall, away from their male counter parts. He found the three women, and made his way toward them, wrapped gifts in hand. As he approached, he could tell something was wrong. The three women’s bodies were tense and stiff. Then he noticed Aleksandra’s black eye, which almost seemed to be getting darker as he looked.

  “There you are, Captain.” It was Colonel Antonov, walking up to him. His face was flushed, and looked a bit unsteady. As he neared, Torbin smelled cheap booze on his breath and exuding from the pores of his body. He came up and poked Torbin in the chest with his left index finger. “I will decide what my officers receive. You must ask permission before you attempt to buy their attentions and favors. Now, you will take the items back, or I will sell them when we return to Russia.”

  Torbin grabbed the Colonel’s finger and bent it painfully back, sideways and down, all at once, nearly breaking it
. He shoved the Colonel back. “Where I come from, comrade, you don’t beat on women or junior officers just because you’re drunk and pissed.”

  Antonov’s face went white. He swore, and grabbed for a small pistol concealed under his fatigue blouse. Torbin saw red, and reached for the concealed Ka-Bar he always carried.

  Ichiro seemed to appear from nowhere, and expertly tapped the Colonel’s wrist with his sheathed katana. The pistol fell to the tarmac, and Ichiro then struck it like a hockey puck, sending it skittering away. He began to bow and apologize profusely. “Oh, many pardons, Colonel! I am so clumsy sometimes. Here, let me retrieve your pistol.”

  “You slanty-eyed little ape!” Colonel Antonov yelled it before he realized what he had said. A stone-faced Ichiro Yamamoto stopped bowing and stood up, his back straight as an arrow. In what was probably just a second but seemed like minutes as time perception slowed, Torbin saw Ichiro shift his feet and body. At the same time, his right hand grasped the katana’s hilt, tensing for a draw.

  “Captain! What is going on?” General John Reed’s command voice cut through the tableau, freezing everyone at once. The General was not a big man, but some people have the ability to immediately take charge using only their voice and demeanor. Luckily for everyone involved, General Reed had this command presence.

  Torbin turned toward the General and saluted smartly. “Sir. Just a little misunderstanding, Sir.”

  He then noticed that Colonel Tanaka was at General Reed’s side. Ichiro saw his Colonel also and, before anyone else could speak, spat a couple of rapid sentences in Japanese to Colonel Tanaka. Immediately, Tanaka, stone-faced, stood ramrod straight and impaled Colonel Antonov with his stare.

  “At ease! Everyone!”' General Reed commanded. “I do not know what happened, but this is my base. We do things my way.”

  He turned toward Antonov and sized him up immediately. “Colonel, you are drunk. That may fly in Russia, but not here. Go sleep it off.” Antonov glared at the Russian females, and spat something at them in their native tongue.