The Mechanics: A Post-Apocalyptic Fiction Series

by Bobby Akart

  “There was a time when I despised the sight of that helicopter,” said J.J. as he glared at Morgan’s Sikorsky. “It did an admirable job as our version of LifeFlight.”

  Sarge continued. “Soon, Steven and Katie will remain in Boston for an indefinite period of time as Steven directs the activities of the Mechanics. Brad will continue to command the Marines from here while maintaining a presence at Fort Devens. The rest of us have our jobs to do at 1PP as we contemplate taking the fight to a regional or even national level.”

  “We’re winning,” interjected Julia.

  “The war? Is there a war?” asked Katie brusquely.

  “No, we’re winning the ideological war—the most important battle,” replied Julia, glancing at Sarge.

  “Julia is right,” said Sarge. “I have spent a considerable amount of time on the Pigeon. Patriot groups from around the country are forming and are encouraged by the results being achieved. We’ve decided to step up our broadcasts to include news and information from around the country.”

  Donald nodded his head and smiled. “Do you guys remember how infuriated we’d get at the mainstream media?”

  “Yeah,” replied J.J. “I tore that one reporter a new asshole, remember that?”

  “I do,” replied Donald. “Now is our opportunity to become the alternative media and the one with the broadcast coverage and listening audience. Sarge’s statement was inspiring and the perfect length for the initial broadcast.”

  “It was very well received,” added Julia. “We want Sarge to incorporate specific examples of successes to give fellow patriots across the country hope and confidence.”

  Sarge looked around to be assured they were alone and then stepped forward into the group. “We are winning the ideological battle, but we cannot underestimate this devious President. Before the collapse, most pundits referred to him as naïve or incompetent. I disagree. I think he is a brilliant strategist who has achieved a lot for his liberal, even socialist, agenda. As his term comes to an end, I expect more from him, especially under these circumstances.”

  “What can he possibly do?” asked Katie.

  “I believe he plans to suspend the elections,” replied Sarge. “In case you haven’t noticed, Abbie isn’t on the campaign trail. Most Americans are trying to stay alive. The November 8th election is the last thing on their minds.”

  “I haven’t heard anything from the campaign, and they know how to reach me,” said Abbie. “It’s possible they know something I don’t, or won’t be made privy to.”

  “How can he do that?” asked J.J.

  Sarge continued. “If you recall, in the Declaration of Martial Law, the President cited National Security and Homeland Security Presidential Directive 51 signed by President Bush in ’07. They call it Directive 51.”

  “I remember that,” said Brad. “President Bush put it in place towards the end of his administration. It was hailed as a good thing by the talking heads, but it’s really a huge power grab by the Executive Branch.”

  “Exactly right, Brad,” said Sarge. “Pushed by the Republicans, the purpose of Directive 51 was to provide for certain national essential functions in the event of a catastrophic national emergency.”

  “How do you define catastrophic?” asked J.J. “Obviously, the collapse of the power grid is catastrophic.”

  “The problem is not a matter of definition,” replied Sarge. “The issue is the power Directive 51 gave the Executive Branch. Today, our President is the functional equivalent of a dictator.”

  “Thanks a fuckin’ lot, Dubya,” said Steven, who was never a fan of the former President.

  Sarge continued. “When Presidents do these things, they don’t contemplate the potential use of these powers by their successors who might have ulterior motives. This is one of the legacies of the Bush administration. Directive 51 turned national emergencies into a power-grabbing tool in the hands of a President desperate to hold onto power.”

  “If this is true, what can we do about it?” asked J.J.

  “I’m not sure we can stop it, but we can certainly get people fired up in advance,” replied Sarge. “Many patriots around the country are expecting this to happen. I’ll remind them, point out the consequences, and prepare them for a call to arms in a subsequent broadcast.”

  “You’re setting up the next phase of the ideological war,” said Donald.

  “That’s right,” said Sarge. “Anticipate your opponent’s move before it is taken, and vocally define his ill intent. It sets the tone of the debate.”

  “Only on Friday nights?” asked J.J.

  “For now,” said Sarge. “Now, what else do you guys have?”

  Brad spoke up first. “Pearson has reached out to me about the State House prisoners. He indicated O’Brien has a proposal.”

  “I’ve got a proposal for him,” chimed in Steven. “Let me take him out. Assassinate the son of a bitch and be done with him.”

  Sarge crossed his arms and said, “That’s not a good idea. What do you think he has in mind, Brad?”

  Before Brad could respond, Katie nudged Steven, who spoke up. “Why the hell not? We need to show that SOB that he can’t fuck with people!”

  “I agree, Steven,” said Sarge, trying to calm his brother down. “Let’s hear what the man has to say before we take him out, as you suggest.”

  “That’s what the old man would do,” responded Steven defiantly.

  Sarge was taken aback by Steven’s brusque attitude. One minute Steven was his joking, man-child brother. The next minute, he was in Sarge’s face. He’d become about as predictable as a wasp on speed. Regardless, this kind of confrontation in front of the others was unacceptable and needed to be shut down.

  “Well, that’s not me,” Sarge pushed back, startling Steven and the group. He moved to soften the response. “I agree there is a time and a place for a strategic killing. But not here, not now. Some of America’s greatest foreign policy successes were mostly the result of skilled diplomacy, not military force. Having a big stick is nice, but speaking softly may be more effective, especially in a volatile situation like this one. Trust me, Steven, there will be a time very soon to use our stick. Just not yet.”

  Steven stared at Sarge and then looked to the ground. He shook his head.

  Sarge continued. “Let me add this. The fact that O’Brien is willing to negotiate so quickly tells me he is receiving pressure from above, probably directly from the President. There must be something big coming, and the President doesn’t need something like the kidnapping of the Massachusetts government gumming up the works.”

  “The elections,” added Julia, touching Sarge on the shoulder for support.

  “That’s right,” said Sarge. “If word of O’Brien’s attack on the legislative session reached the rest of the nation, suspension of elections would be the least of his problems.”

  “I think Sarge is right,” said Donald, who had become an invaluable member of the Loyal Nine. Other than Julia, he was the most important confidant to Sarge.

  “Plus, we don’t want O’Brien to do something rash,” continued Sarge. “The man has a propensity for hasty, ill-conceived decisions. There are a few hundred lives at stake over there.”

  “Okay, got it,” said Steven. “You’re the boss. I just don’t believe in negotiating with terrorists. You just kill ’em.”

  Steven always has to get the last word. “However—” Sarge paused for effect “—that’s not to say we can’t potentially use this to our advantage. Brad, set up the meeting as soon as possible. Hear Pearson out, but don’t beat his ass.”

  “I’ll be the model of restraint.” Brad laughed.

  Chapter 37

  Thursday, November 3, 2016

  11:00 a.m.

  1st Battalion, 25th Marines HQ

  Fort Devens, Massachusetts

  Brad had no use for Pearson. Not back in the spring when they first met and certainly not today. He knew Pearson played a role in the Belchertown attack of a mo
nth ago. He’d lost a couple of good soldiers that day. He wasn’t pissed off anymore, because death was a part of war. It was the cause, not the death itself, that bothered Brad the most.

  “So we meet again,” said Brad, gesturing for Pearson to sit down. He then turned his attention to CWO Shore, who had become Brad’s constant companion. Corporal Morrell had assumed the duties of security at Prescott Peninsula, and Shore became the head of Brad’s security detail. “I assume he’s been frisked.”

  “Yes, sir, clean.”

  “After all we’ve been through, you still don’t trust me, Colonel?” asked Pearson, attempting to make a joke.

  Brad didn’t laugh. He stared a hole through the man’s head. Maybe I am still pissed off.

  After an awkward moment, Pearson continued. “Colonel, I’m going to stick my neck out here a little bit. A lot, actually. While I understand you have others to confide in, I don’t. I need assurances from you that our conversation will remain confidential, at least as it relates to the people on my side of the equation.”

  Brad thought for a moment. He was not going to let Pearson entrap him. Brad was a man of few words when dealing with a potential adversary and that had always served him well. He’d listen to Pearson and engage cautiously.

  “Fair enough.”

  “Colonel, O’Brien is unstable. He’s trying to do his job like he’s undertaking a wildcat strike.”

  “Without a doubt,” said Brad.

  “The stated purpose of my meeting with you today is to propose a prisoner swap. Formally, O’Brien is offering the two hundred plus civilians locked in the State House for the forty-four men in your Federal Prison Camp over there.” Pearson pointed out the window to the housing facility.

  Without acknowledging Pearson’s intel, Brad responded, “Why should we do that? The forty-four men you refer to violated the law by breaking into fully stocked armories. You played a very big part in that operation, if I’m not mistaken. Maybe I should lock you up with them!”

  Pearson sat back in the chair and took a deep breath. “Colonel, I’m trying my best to diffuse a dangerous situation. I realize you and I have been at crossed-purposes in the past. Please understand, I’m trying to keep a bad situation from getting worse.”

  Truthfully, Brad knew the prisoners he was holding were not dangerous. They were union guys, but mainly they were family men induced to raid the armories by promises of food, shelter, and power. After sixty days in captivity, all they cared about at this point was finding their families alive, hopefully.

  “I’ll consider it,” said Brad, who wanted to leave the impression with Pearson that he was the proverbial decider.

  “There is one more thing,” added Pearson.

  I knew it!

  “The governor also proposes to swap the Massachusetts State House for Fort Devens.”

  “Hell no!” Brad snapped back. “The Massachusetts State House belongs to the people. Fort Devens belongs to the United States armed forces. Non-negotiable.”

  Pearson began to explain O’Brien’s position, but Brad tuned him out. As Pearson spoke, Brad gave it some thought. It didn’t make sense for the UN troops to leave their primary theater of operations to take control of a facility an hour away. Gas didn’t grow on trees. Traveling back and forth could be costly and dangerous. On the road, you opened yourself up to IEDs and insurgent activity.

  “… primarily concerned about housing for his troops this winter,” finished Pearson.

  “Okay.”

  “What?” asked Pearson.

  “I said okay, we’ll agree to the facility swap,” replied Brad, catching Pearson off guard. “I’ll need a few days to remove all U.S. military equipment and personnel. We’ll de-identify the base. I don’t want any of the local citizens misunderstanding what this really is—a foreign occupation of a United States military installation. But for the good of the people of Massachusetts, I’ll make it happen.”

  “That’s good news, Colonel. I’m glad we could reach an agreement. You know, it just shows that you and I can work—”

  “Shut up!” yelled Brad as he leaned forward in his chair.

  Pearson was frightened by the outburst.

  “We’re not best buds, asshole! I know you were involved in the Belchertown raid. God knows what you said to those people to give them the courage to die for nothing.”

  “But it wasn’t just—”

  “I don’t give a fuck,” Brad shot back. “What’s done is done. Here’s a message for your boss. I’m unstable too. He needs to focus on taking care of the people within his charge who are trying to survive. This collapse, or whatever you wanna call it, is not O’Brien’s opportunity to get rich, powerful, and famous. He’s tried that shit for nearly sixty days, and he’s a complete failure.”

  “Colonel, I didn’t come here to make you angry. I simply wanted to help.”

  “Fine, then here’s how you can help. You and I can keep the lines of communication open. We’re not friends, got it?”

  Pearson nodded sheepishly.

  Brad continued. “I believe it’s possible people with different points of view, with good intentions, can come together for the good of the country. Maybe you fall into that mind-set. Maybe not. Either way, I know O’Brien and his type. He only cares about his personal gain.”

  “I don’t disagree,” said Pearson.

  “Good. We have something we can build on. But make no mistake. If O’Brien doesn’t quit or the President doesn’t fire him, then I will remove him from his governor’s throne, and the result will not be pretty. Are we all clear, Pearson?” Brad leaned back in his chair and locked his eyes on Pearson.

  “Crystal clear,” replied Pearson, adding with respect, “sir.”

  Chapter 38

  Friday, November 4, 2016

  7:15 p.m.

  Prescott Peninsula

  Quabbin Reservoir, Massachusetts

  “Tonight, we rally the troops,” said Sarge as he walked through Donald’s workshop, admiring some of the interesting projects on the drawing board—including the handheld EMP device. He examined it while he spoke. “My goal is to convince like-minded Americans there is hope, and a means, to pull ourselves out of this disaster. It all starts with them, as individuals.”

  “What are you going to suggest?” asked Donald as he took the EMP device away from Sarge like a father would retrieve a dangerous tool from a child. “Let me put that over here before you fry the place.”

  “Yes, please,” said Brad. “Keep him away from the big-boy toys.”

  Julia laughed. At that moment, she envisioned Sarge taking away a toy airplane from little Henry. Henry? Is our child going to be a boy? When do I tell Sarge?

  She joined the conversation. “There have been some developments, Donald. The government is beginning to restore power in parts of the country. The locations are telling.”

  “Julia is right,” said Sarge. “I’m learning as I go. Morgan has a wealth of knowledge, and his resources are endless. As you guys know, the Boston Brahmin are heavily invested in the industrial-military complex.”

  “That’s an understatement,” said Donald. “They are the industrial-military complex. After World War II, defense spending skyrocketed and the Brahmin’s investment in armament manufacturers followed the trend. As the U.S. military budget increased accordingly, the privatization of the production and invention of military technology followed suit.”

  “Our benefactors have been an integral part of that growth,” said Sarge. “As the relationship between the public sector and private defense contractors became more complex, an agency of the Department of Defense was created to act as a liaison between these technological innovators and the military.”

  “DARPA,” interjected Brad.

  “Yes,” said Sarge. “It’s an acronym for the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency. For our purposes, a program initiated via DARPA has surfaced. Mr. Morgan asked the President for permission to set the wheels in motion back in Septemb
er, and the President refused.”

  Sarge glanced at his watch and tapped his wrist. He led Julia, Brad, and Donald out of the room and down the dimly lit corridor in the bowels of 1PP. It was almost time for his Choose Freedom broadcast. He continued to speak as they walked.

  “One of the projects initiated in the past year was known as RADICS—Rapid Attack Detection, Isolation and Characterization Systems. The project was designed to provide early warning of impending cyber attacks on critical infrastructure as well as rapid forensic identifications of cyber threats.”

  “It didn’t work,” said Brad.

  “Well, the advanced warning aspect of RADICS was still in its infancy,” replied Sarge. “The primary focus was in disaster relief response efforts.”

  “Is that part of the project online?” asked Brad.

  “Yes,” replied Sarge. “The RADICS project was designed to include mitigation and damage control following a successful attack by isolating unaffected networks, repairing damaged ones, and coordinating efforts to replace damaged electricity transmission components, like transformers.”

  Sarge paused as the four made their way up the spiral staircase to the main floor of 1PP. The living area was empty except for two soldiers who were eating bowls of oatmeal, which had become everyone’s favorite meal as the weather turned colder. As the group entered the living area, the soldiers quickly finished and left.

  “Why would the President refuse to implement a disaster relief option that could restore the power grid, at least in part?”

  “It’s complicated,” said Sarge as he turned to Brad. “I know what the President’s agenda is. It hasn’t changed since the day he announced his run for office in 2007. He promised a fundamental transformation of America. There are those who criticized his presidency as out of touch. I see his actions as brilliant and calculating when taken in the context of a fundamental transformation. He used the mandate given to him by the 2008 election to effectuate radical left-wing political ideologies that have been on the drawing board for decades. These policies, like government-mandated insurance, open borders, and correcting social injustices, relied upon a permanently agitated and divided population to create the sense of crisis that is the only context under which people are willing to accept radical change.”