The Survivalist (Solemn Duty)

by Arthur T. Bradley

  Samantha leaned in. “Should it look like that inside?”

  “It most definitely should not,” he growled. Tanner turned to Purdy and held the axe up between them. “Explain. Now.”

  The reverend began wringing his hands.

  “I feared as much.”

  “A man doesn’t fear that a gold bar is fake. He either knows it, or he doesn’t.” Tanner poked a meaty finger into this chest. “You knew it.”

  Purdy started to backpedal. “I only knew that one bar was in question. That’s all, I swear.”

  Tanner stayed with him, growing angrier by the second.

  “You think that makes it any better?”

  “Let me explain, please.” He said, backing up against a stack of gold. “When we were retrieving it from the train, I noticed that one of the bars had been damaged.” He lowered his voice. “I could see that there was something other than gold at its center.”

  “Yet you tried to cheat us anyway. Once a conman, always a conman.”

  “I-I…” Purdy fell silent.

  “Is it silver?” asked Samantha.

  “No,” said Tanner, “it’s tungsten.”

  “Is that valuable?”

  “Only if you’re making light bulbs or trying to pass off fake gold.”

  “But wouldn’t the people at Fort Knox have known?”

  “Some may have, but tungsten has almost the exact same weight as gold, making it very difficult to detect.”

  Samantha scratched her head. “I don’t get it. Why would the government go to the trouble of making and then storing a bunch of tungsten-filled bars?”

  “Same reason they did everything, to line their pockets. Hell, they probably melted it down to make gold toilet seats.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Why would anyone want to sit on a gold toilet seat? I mean wouldn’t it be cold?”

  “Well, yeah, but—”

  “Plus, you’d always have to worry about someone stealing it anytime they asked to use your bathroom. Honestly, Tanner, it just doesn’t make sense.”

  “Fine,” he growled, “not toilet seats. What matters is that it’s gone, and we’re left with a room full of paperweights.”

  She turned to Purdy. “If you suspected the gold might not be real, why didn’t you test it?”

  He stood, shifting from one foot to the other.

  “I suppose I didn’t want to know.”

  “Correction,” said Tanner, “you didn’t want others to know.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Samantha.

  “With the discovery of the gold, the reverend here solidified his role as the Grand Poobah, the big enchilada, the top dog.” He turned to Purdy. “I have that about right?”

  “It’s just that we needed a win. The creatures, all the shortages, it was causing people to lose hope.”

  “So, he not only kept the gold, he made darn sure no one else knew that it was fake. After all, who would want to replace a headmaster who literally brought them the fortunes of Fort Knox?”

  “Please,” he said, “you can’t tell them. The idea that we may one day become rich is the only thing keeping many of them going through these difficult times.”

  Samantha turned to Tanner and shook her head.

  “I guess you were right. There really are no honest men in the world. Happy?”

  “No,” he said, marching Purdy straight back into a corner, “I most certainly am not happy.”

  “Pl-please,” he stammered, “this doesn’t have to come to violence.”

  “It doesn’t have to, but I think it’s going to.”

  “Tanner, wait,” called Samantha.

  He turned. “I’m listening.”

  “Think about it. If we nearly fell for the gold being real, maybe Mother will too.”

  He was surprised not by the suggestion but by who was making it.

  “You want to pass off fake gold?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t want to. I’m just saying we could if we had to.”

  “She’s right,” said Purdy. “No one would ever know. Besides, for all we know, some of this gold might be real.”

  Tanner placed a hand over his mouth.

  “You hush.” He looked around at the huge piles of gold. They certainly looked real enough. Maybe Mother would fall for it. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t.

  “So?” said Samantha. “What do you think? It’s not like you’re the most honest person, anyway.”

  “That’s the problem. Mother knows what she’s dealing with. She’ll test one of the bars, just as I did.” He pulled his hand away from Purdy’s mouth and leaned in close. “Your lie has put my wife in danger, and that’s not something I can let go unpunished.” Tanner cocked a fist back.

  “Wait!” said Purdy. “I can make this right.”

  “I seriously doubt that.”

  “Listen! We pulled something else from the train, something valuable.”

  Tanner’s lowered his fist. “What?”

  Purdy tried to squeeze by him, saying, “If you’ll just allow me show you.”

  Tanner let him inch by, and Purdy hurried over to a mound covered with a thick canvas tarp. When he pulled it off, they saw a six-foot-long steel tube, painted OD green and measuring perhaps six inches in diameter. Next to it sat two small crates, each about the size of a suitcase.

  “What is it?” Samantha said, coming closer to get a better look. “Some kind of rocket launcher?”

  “We’re not exactly sure. What we do know is that it’s radiological.” He lifted the lid off one of the crates to reveal a warhead with four fins along its tail and a bayonet-style piston perfectly sized to mate with the tube. Painted on the side of the warhead was the familiar yellow circle with three flower-like pedals.

  Samantha’s eyes grew wide. “Tanner, are those nuclear bombs?”

  “Yes, darlin’, they most certainly are.” There was an unmistakable note of awe to his voice. “This thing’s known as the Davy Crockett.”

  “Davy Crockett?” Purdy and Samantha both said in unison.

  Tanner pointed to the launch tube. “That’s a recoilless spigot gun, capable of firing a projectile two miles.” He gently rubbed one of the warheads. “And these are M-388 nuclear projectiles, each equivalent to about 20 tons of TNT.”

  “Is that a lot?” she asked.

  “Think neighborhood, not city.”

  “That’s not so bad.”

  “It also puts out enough radiation to kill anyone within a quarter mile.”

  She made a face. “Yikes.”

  “Yeah, yikes.”

  “How do you know all that?”

  “I told you. I pay attention.”

  She tipped her head forward, waiting for more.

  “Fine. I had a lot of time on my hands in prison. Spent most of it watching military history shows. If I recall correctly, these babies were built back in the 50’s.”

  “What would one of them be doing at Fort Knox?”

  He shrugged. “Last line of defense, maybe.”

  “So,” said Purdy, “would this suffice?”

  “As what?” said Samantha.

  “As payment for what you did for us.”

  “You’re going to pay us with nuclear bombs.” She turned to Tanner. “Can you believe what he’s saying?”

  Tanner barely heard her.

  “Tanner?”

  He turned to Purdy. “Listen to me carefully because what I’m about to ask for is non-negotiable. Understand?”

  Purdy nodded.

  “We need a small truck, nothing as large as the flatbed.”

  “Tanner, what are you saying?” exclaimed Samantha. “We promised Mother a room full of gold, not a nuclear bomb.”

  “Correction,” he said, raising a finger, “two nuclear bombs.”

  She shook her head. “We shouldn’t take these. They’re too dangerous.”

  “Exactly. And that’s why Mother will accept them as payment. With these two bombs at her disposal, she’ll possess
the ability to all but destroy the New Colony. And that will give her security.”

  “I thought you said they wouldn’t take out a city.”

  “They won’t, but they’ll sure as hell sink a carrier, not to mention poison the entire area.”

  Her mouth fell open. “That’s awful.”

  “It’s so awful they have a name for it, nuclear deterrence.” He turned back to Purdy. “Now, where were we? Oh yes, a truck. It needs to be fully fueled and ready to go. We also want a few days of food and water, as well as two firearms with enough ammunition to hold out for a week at the Alamo. Got it?”

  He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes, I can get all that.” His eyes drifted down to the Davy Crockett. “To be honest, I’ll be glad to be rid of this abomination. There’s a sense of evil surrounding it.”

  As Purdy turned and hurried from the building, Samantha said, “Evil, Tanner, did you hear that?”

  “Nonsense. Weapons aren’t evil.”

  “Maybe not normal weapons, but there’s no way this thing could ever be used for good.”

  Tanner had a hard time refuting her statement. The Davy Crockett was designed to have a tactical purpose, but because of its poor targeting and widespread release of radiation, it was difficult to make a solid case for its use in any but the most extreme circumstances. Even so, it might well be traded for Issa’s freedom, and that was good enough for him.

  “Are you sure about this?” said Samantha.

  “As sure as I’ve ever been of anything.”

  “Right. In other words, fifty-fifty.”

  Chapter 22

  Issa pushed through the heavy steel door sealing off the emergency stairs. The stairwell beyond was incredibly dark, but she could feel her glossy black eyes quickly adjusting. As they did, a steep set of stone steps materialized before her. Carefully advancing down the stairs, she caught the pungent odor of human decay in the air. Soldiers had been slaughtered in the stairwell as well as on the landing below, and based on the smell, some of their remains had been left behind to rot.

  Mother paused at the top of the steps and looked back.

  “My people, how will they ever forgive me for abandoning them?”

  “You don’t have a choice,” Issa called back over her shoulder. “They’ll understand that. Now move!”

  Mother sighed, pulling the door closed and starting down the stairs.

  “Do you think it’ll ever be safe to return?”

  “There’ll be a reckoning when Korn comes back.”

  “Yes, but will he remain loyal to me?”

  Issa wasn’t entirely sure. Korn had never shared his position on the intermingling of the infected with those who were not. While he probably still felt the sting of having lost Issa to a man who was uninfected, she wanted to believe that his loyalty to Mother would trump any personal feelings of rejection.

  Instead of answering, she hurried down the final few stairs, arriving at a landing ringed with fencing that stretched from floor to ceiling. Broken rifles lay on the floor, as did the dried remains of several soldiers overrun during the assault. The gate leading out to a long dark tunnel had been blown inward and now lay in a twisted pile.

  Seeing Tanner’s handiwork brought a fresh pang of worry. How would he ever find her? Even if he managed to get past Gaius, the tunnels were miles long in every direction. And there was no guarantee that they were empty. The tunnels had always been dangerous to humans and infected alike.

  Issa’s baby seemed to share her concern and offered a firm kick to her belly.

  “Don’t worry,” she said softly. “There’s nothing in this world that can stop your father from finding us.” Even saying the words made Issa feel better. Tanner Raines was not a man to give up on those he loved, no matter the hardship.

  Shouts sounded from the top of the stairwell as the door once again swung open. Mother had just arrived at the landing and stopped to look back.

  “Go!” Issa shouted, waving her on. “Down the tunnel. I’ll catch up.”

  Mother hurried ahead, stepping over the dried remains of a soldier and ducking as she passed through the open gate. The dark tunnel curved off to the left with a single set of rail tracks centered on its floor. Ahead, she could see the nose of the electric train they had used to bring her people to Mount Weather. Mother had no idea if it remained operational, but she hurried toward it nonetheless.

  Issa scrambled behind a crate at the bottom of the stairs and took a knee with the Merkel resting atop it. She waited until the first of Gaius’s men stepped into the stairwell before firing. The gun boomed, slamming against her shoulder with the kick of a donkey. The man whipped violently backwards as the huge slug nearly ripped him in two. Another man stepped over the body, and she shot him too.

  Opening the breech, she ejected the spent cartridges and quickly reloaded.

  Having seen two men fall to the mighty Merkel, others were more hesitant to advance.

  Instead, a voice called, “Issa, this isn’t your fight!”

  It was General Gaius.

  “Perhaps not,” she shouted, “but I’ll gladly stand against a traitor and murderer.”

  “What happened to Chloe was your fault. Not mine. If you hadn’t encouraged the women to lay with your husband, we wouldn’t have had to resort to such measures. All things have consequences.”

  “Consequences? Is that what you call being raped and tortured?”

  “That part was Spencer’s doing. My orders were only for her to be killed, just as the others must be.”

  Issa’s gut clenched as she wondered if Kendra had managed to get the widows out in time.

  “Why don’t you come out and we’ll talk about it?” She sighted in on the open doorway, whispering, “Come on, give me a little something to work with.”

  Gaius laughed sharply. “I think not. Lay down your rifle and surrender, or we’ll seal the exit, leaving you and Mother to rot down there. Your throats will thirst and your bellies ache. It will be an agonizing death, I assure you.”

  There was no reply.

  “Do you hear me, Issa? If you don’t come out now, you and your baby will both die!”

  Still nothing.

  “Issa?” Gaius dared a quick peek around the corner.

  Nothing but darkness awaited him.

  Issa was gone.

  Chapter 23

  Mason wasn’t sure how long he sat with Brooke, a minute, five, ten? The months they had shared together flashed through his mind, a collection of one intimate scene after another. Part of him wanted to romanticize their relationship, to cast her as an angel who had brought only blessings to his life. Most of him accepted her for what she really was, a dangerous woman willing to do whatever it took to survive. In the end, however, she had sacrificed her life to save his, and that could not have been born out of deception or selfishness.

  Mason also accepted that his love for her was as real as it was perplexing. She was a deceiver, a manipulator, and perhaps even a bit of a whore should the situation require it. But she was also a soul that knew how to love deeply and with unbridled passion, and in that, they shared a kindred spirit. Even with her passing, Brooke would be a part of him, just as Ava was. No two women could ever have been more different, but that didn’t mean that each hadn’t found their way into his heart.

  Bowie nudged Mason’s hand, finally breaking the spell. He looked over at the dog, blood soaking the fur around his mouth.

  “I know,” he said softly. “We need to go.”

  Mason stood, retrieved his weapons, and walked over to Laroche. The man lay in a puddle of blood, unconscious but alive. Despite his wounds, with the right medical care, he might well survive.

  Mason drew his Supergrade and shot him in the head.

  “That one’s for Ella.” He shot him again. “And that one’s for Brooke.”

  There was no anger to his action. It just seemed like the right thing to do, a promise kept, a wrong made right.

  He slung the M4 acros
s his back and scooped Brooke up into his arms. Carrying her out would make him terribly vulnerable, but he simply couldn’t find it in his heart to leave her behind to rot.

  “Come on, boy. Let’s see if we can get out of here.”

  Mason stepped from Laroche’s chambers and started back down the hallway. Bowie trudged along behind him, sniffing the two dead bodyguards as he passed. Sounds of men fighting could be heard ahead, but they were sporadic, as if the battle had already been decided.

  Mason stopped and waited for the fighting to subside. Unfortunately, no sooner had it stopped than he heard heavy footsteps approaching. No matter who had won, whether they be Laroche’s men or the infected invaders, he was not likely to be given quarter.

  He gently placed Brooke on the concrete floor, readied his M4, and took a knee beside Bowie. The wolfhound’s eyes were alert, his hair standing on end. Mason smiled. There was still plenty of fight left in both of them, and by God, they wouldn’t go down easy.

  There was no mistaking who came around the corner. The fearsome general and three of his hideous men appeared with semi-automatic rifles pressed to their shoulders. Before anyone could fire, the general held up a hand.

  “Wait,” he said in a deep voice. He studied Mason, his eyes drifting down to Brooke. “Is she dead?”

  Mason gently rested his finger on the M4’s trigger. The big one would be the first to go down.

  “Yes.”

  “And the fat man we chased from The Farm? Is he dead, too?”

  “Yes.”

  The general looked past him. “Any others?”

  “I killed them all.”

  His eyes returned to Brooke, and his face seemed to soften, if such a thing were even possible.

  “You loved her?”

  Mason hesitated to answer. It seemed like an awful lot of chit chat, considering the situation.

  “I loved her,” he said simply.

  The general took a deep breath and slowly let it out.