by King, Ryan
He was also pleased that his action had spread like wildfire, with rumors growing by the minute. One of his guards let it slip that most people thought he had killed Reggie Phillips and it was only with great difficulty they informed people of their leader’s safety. Walter Beale’s name was famous regardless, he thought with a hint of satisfaction.
Walter was now in a small grey room without windows, shadows from the lantern dancing on the walls. Two men stood silently nearby. After the beatings, he thought they would torture or kill him, but instead they transported him to the LBL park, an area he knew well. The bunk he had slept on for over a month was less than a hundred feet from where he sat now.
The door opened abruptly and in walked a stocky man filled with purpose and energy. Colonel Nathan Taylor himself, thought Walter. The man stood for a moment regarding Walter.
“Leave us,” he said to the two guards.
“But, sir…” began one.
“It’s okay,” said Nathan softly. “Go.”
The two men walked out of the room closing the door behind them. Somehow the shadows became even more menacing.
“I suppose you want some time with me yourself,” said Walter with a smile.
Nathan smiled in return, “You have no idea.”
Walter closed his eyes and resigned himself to the beating, but after several moments none came and he opened his eyes to see Colonel Taylor still staring at him silently.
“What do you want?” asked Walter confused.
“How could you have failed?” he asked shaking his head. “You had the perfect opportunity. You were five feet from him. We may never get that good a chance again.”
Walter was stunned, his eyes wide.
Nathan grimaced. “Do you know how long we have waited for someone like you? Someone with the courage and conviction to do what needed to be done? We may be doomed now.”
“Why?” asked Walter.
“Because the WTR probably assumes you were successful,” explained Nathan. “Their actions depend on attacking after the JP is confused and chaotic. Bloodshed would be minimized. They could liberate us without destroying us. Now there will be much death on both sides. The opportunity may be lost.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Walter, “they’ll come regardless.”
“Yes!” said Colonel Taylor intently, “But we could help them! We could rise up!” His voice grew soft, “We could even finish what you started.”
“What are you saying?” asked Walter suspicious.
“Ops Populus. Power to the people,” said Nathan. “That’s what I’m talking about, you’re not alone in this brother, but I need your help.”
“How can I help you? I’m finished,” moaned Walter.
Nathan placed Walter’s backpack on the table and pulled out the satellite phone. “Tell me who to contact and what to tell them. Let me tell them there is still a chance. You can still be successful, let me help you.”
“You don’t need my help to kill Reggie Phillips,” said Walter.
“No,” answered Nathan, “but we need your help to saves lives and prevent needless misery. If the WTR will just give us a little more time to take out that tyrant, we can peacefully resolve this. We could unite and everything will be okay. You will have made possible the birth of a new nation. Your name will be remembered forever.”
Walter was silent thinking, “How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t,” he answered. “But you have so little to lose now and so much to gain. Please…for all of our sakes, help me,” pleaded Colonel Taylor. “We don’t have much time.”
Walter was silent for so long that Nathan thought everything had failed. “His name is Gabriel,” he finally said.
“Gabriel?” asked Nathan. “Who is he?”
“I don’t really know exactly,” said Walter, “but he found me and showed me my destiny.”
“How did you know when the right time was?”
Walter nodded at the table, “The phone. I checked it every night I could. The code came a few weeks ago after the electricity went out. ‘Ops Populus’ was the message.”
“Are their others like you here?” asked Nathan.
“Not that I know of,” answered Walter. “Gabriel told me I was unique and everything depended on me.”
“Were you supposed to send a message back letting him know if you were successful or not?”
“Yes,” said Walter smiling. “’Brutus’ was the code for success, ‘Hinckley’ for failure.”
“What is his number?” asked Nathan. “The call records have all been erased.”
Walter hesitated. “Gabriel insisted on it. He said the number was only for me, made me memorize it.”
“I need it, Walter,” said Nathan. “We don’t have much time. You have to trust me.”
The bloody and broken man sat still for a moment and then let out a deep breath. “881-734-0365.”
Nathan reached out and grasped Walter’s shackled hand compassionately, “Thank you.” He then stood up and opened the door allowing the two guards back in. He was almost gone when one of the guards called after him.
“Sir, what are we to do with him?”
Nathan turned back, his mask gone, fury pouring out of his eyes, “Hang him! Hang that cowardly bastard right now!”
Chapter 3 – Waking Up
The first thing Beau Myers noticed as he started to come awake was that he could hear again. There was a distinct ringing in his ears, but he could clearly hear people talking in the distance and somewhere a bird chirping.
He slowly opened his eyes to the bright light of what was certainly a hospital room. His eyes were drawn to the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, she was standing at the foot of his bed looking at a chart.
He probably would have lain there looking at her silently as long as she stayed, but evidently sensing something, she glanced up and then jumped, startled at the sight of him looking at her. “Oh my goodness!” she said putting her hand to her chest. “You nearly scared me to death! How are you feeling?”
Beau’s mind went completely blank. Where am I? What had happened? Who was this girl? Was she married? All sorts of questions raced through his head.
“We’ll just check you out there,” said the girl while taking his blood pressure and heart rate. “Humm…” she said concerned, “your heart rate is a little high, I’ll mention it to the doctor. You know you gave everyone here a bit of a scare, but looks like you’ll be alright.” She looked at him with an expectant smile, waiting for him to say something. He couldn’t think of a thing, but wondered how his hair looked.
“You’re probably thirsty,” she said as she handed him a cup of water with a flexible straw. He drank greedily.
“Thank you,” he said.
“It lives!” she shrieked in mock fear and then laughed.
Beau smiled and found his voice. “Where…what…?”
“You’re in the Fulton Hospital,” she said. “Took a bullet to the upper chest, but you were lucky. Missed all the real vital stuff and exited cleanly out the back. Doc says you’ll be fine in a few days, just need to take it easy.”
“How long have I been here?” he asked.
“A little over three days. You were unconscious when they brought you in. Good thing too, anesthesia is kind of hit or miss right now.”
Beau felt down at his chest and found thick bandages. She quickly grabbed his hand in both of hers to keep him from touching them. Beau clearly felt what must have been 10,000 volts of electricity pass between them.
“Easy there, fella,” she said seriously. “We just patched you up, don’t go messin with our work.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Beau smiling up at her.
“You can call me Amy,” she said with a smile, patting his hand. “There’s someone here to visit you; just let me go get him. I’ll be back in just a minute.” She walked briskly out of the room into the dim hallway. Beau followed her buttocks with his eyes and it took him several minutes t
o snap out of some sort of hypnosis to look around at the room.
The windows were open to bright sunlight and there was a light breeze blowing the curtains gently. Beau listened for the sounds of gunfire or fighting but didn’t hear any so he guessed that was a good sign. A few minutes later, Amy walked back in with General Anderson and then returned to the hallway after giving Beau a smile.
Beau realized that he was still staring expectantly where Amy had departed and that several long moments had passed. He looked quickly at General Anderson who was staring at him with clear concern. “You okay son?’
“Yes sir,” Beau said, embarrassed. What the heck is wrong with me? “Just a little out of it, that’s all.”
General Anderson nodded and pulled up a chair beside his bed and sat down. He stared at Beau long enough to make him feel slightly uncomfortable before he started talking. “Sergeant Major Givens told me what happened out there. Hell of a thing.”
The General’s tone was decidedly neutral and he stared at Beau expectantly. It would be nice to know if he were in trouble or not before answering. “Uh…yes sir.”
“I couldn’t help but notice that you brought back three tanks that I clearly remember telling you to destroy.” Anderson said with a tilt of his head.
“Yes, sir, about that…” began Beau.
“What do you think military orders are about?” asked Anderson.
“It’s about doing what you’re told,” answered Beau grimly.
“Nope,” said Anderson. “It’s about executing a mission. We can’t blindly follow orders because the situation can change, but we follow those orders to meet our commander’s objectives until the situation changes. When things go to crap, we use our best judgment. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” said Beau, starting to feel a little better.
“You did the right thing,” said Anderson. “Your vehicles were destroyed and it was the best way to get back here. If I’d been smart enough to think about it, that might have been our plan all along, but I didn’t. You did well.”
Beau suddenly felt like a weight had come off his chest. “Thank you, sir.”
“What do you think we should do with those tanks now that we have them?” asked Anderson.
Beau felt confused, “Well, I don’t know sir.”
“Come on Lieutenant,” Anderson scowled. “You act like you’re dumb as a rock and scared to death to boot, but you’re smart enough and you’ve obviously got several yards of guts. So why do you act like such a ninny?”
Beau was mortified. “I don’t guess I know, sir.”
“Well, I know” said Anderson. “Because that’s the way you see yourself. The truth is you’re smart, capable, courageous, and other people see it and want to follow you. Hell, lots of people want to be you. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, sir,” said Beau, not sure if he believed what he was hearing.
“So?” said Anderson, “the tanks?”
Beau thought. He had gotten pretty well acquainted with them in a few short hours and had to admit he had instantly fallen in love with those monstrous metal beasts. “They’re not terribly practical for day to day activity because they use up fuel like crazy, but they’d be nearly unstoppable if we chose to use them in an attack.”
“And what do you think could stop them?” asked Anderson.
Beau thought. “Confined spaces like ditches. Antitank mines. Running out of fuel, certainly.” There was something else he thought and then he had it. “Or other tanks.”
“Yes,” smiled Anderson. “We don’t know if they have more tanks. If they do, the only thing that can quickly stop them is our tanks. So what do we do with them?”
“We could spread them out or pull them back so they could respond to an attack…but, we’d likely just have to respond to this location since it’s the best approach for tanks from the south,” answered Beau.
“That’s what I was thinking,” said Anderson nodding. “Here is the threat of a tank attack. Also, no sense in pulling them back just so we have to bring them back up here again. Uses too much fuel.”
“But if they’re close to the border,” said Beau, “the enemy could do the same thing we did and steal them back or destroy them.”
“Well, you’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen?”
“Me?” asked Beau meekly.
“Yes,” answered Anderson, “you’re now the JP’s one and only tank commander. Congratulations. Also, an aide told me the Paducah Airport has a storage reservoir of twelve thousand gallons of jet fuel, it’s yours for the tanks, but use it sparingly.”
“Thank you sir, but you know I don’t know anything about tanks.”
Anderson looked at him sternly. “You know enough son, and that’s exactly the sort of attitude I’ve been talking about. If you can’t have confidence in yourself, then have confidence in my confidence in you. Now let’s talk about that mad ass one man assault you conducted on a tank. What made you think that was a good idea?”
Beau was silent for a moment before answering. “It just kind a seemed like the right thing to do…the only thing to do really.”
“Probably so,” said Anderson. “Remember this. Anytime you are caught dead…attack. Sometimes you’ll catch ‘em napping and get out of their grip like you did. Damn brave thing to do though. You know that, right?”
“I guess so,” said Beau, embarrassed.
Anderson looked at him speculatively for a long moment before asking. “Have you ever heard of William Tecumseh Sherman?”
“Yes, sir,” said Beau. “He marched on Atlanta and destroyed the South during the Civil War.”
“He was more than that. He was an aggressive and dynamic leader in an age when everyone was cautious and methodical. He was different and in many ways changed war. Do you know how he got that way?”
“Study and training, I guess,” answered Beau.
“Partly,” said Anderson, “but in 1862, at the Battle of Shiloh, not too far south of here actually, he was a leader like those of his day. He was competent but nothing special. Something happened on the second day of that battle that changed him forever. Do you know what it was?”
“No, sir,” said Beau, fascinated by the tale.
“He was shot. Right through his hand. He was on a horse trying to rally his fleeing troops and took a bullet through his hand. From that point forward he was no longer timid and cautious, he was clearly different. He became fearless and confident.” Anderson stared at him for a moment longer, searching for words. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that if there is something you’re waiting on in order to be who you really are, this might be it. You can come out of here whoever you want to be. I know it sounds corny, but it’s happened before, just look at Sherman.”
“It’s not corny, sir,” said Beau quietly.
One of Anderson’s aides stepped into the room. “Excuse me, sir, but dispatches have arrived from both Colonel Taylor and Lieutenant Governor Philips. Both are marked urgent.”
Anderson stuck his hand out and the aide delivered them to him and then departed into the hallway, but stayed near the door. He opened the first one and read with concentration, shook his head then folded it back up.
“Damn bad business,” mumbled Anderson. “You’re going to hear it eventually, so I might as well give you the news. There was an assassination attempt on President Phillips life. It was thwarted by his wife, but she lost her leg in the process. Everyone is in an uproar and Reggie’s had to spend most of his time since the attack convincing people he’s still alive. It’s killing him to be away from Janice now, but he’s afraid this whole JP business could unravel.”
Beau’s mind raced. He had missed a lot in three days.
Anderson opened the next dispatch and almost immediately became agitated. He seemed to read with alarm and then re-read the dispatch, his eyes jumping all over the page.
Anderson stood up suddenly. “Sorry, but I have to go, pressing business. You get well soon Captain, and
think about what I’ve said.”
“Yes, sir,” said Beau.
Anderson walked out into the hallway, but then stuck his head back in. “Captain?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Get those tanks ready to go as quickly as you can,” ordered Anderson. “We may have need of them sooner than we planned.” With that he vanished into the dim hallway.
So much for resting up, thought Beau as he slowly swung his legs out of bed.
Chapter 4 – Changes in the Air
Getting the locks repaired and closed was a top priority. Although they still hadn’t located the mysterious source of the dam’s heat fluctuation, it could take months to build up the water level to power the turbines once the problem was fixed. Although the Tennessee and Cumberland Rivers still flowed northwards, the combined flow was a bare trickle at the bottom of the vast muddy chasm where the lakes once stood.
Closing the lock doors was more difficult than Nathan initially thought it would be. First of all, water still poured through the narrow opening, granted at a slower pace than when it had the entire force of the two lakes behind it, but it still necessitated opening all the dam doors to help relieve the water pressure on the locks.
The next step was to clear the pile of debris left in the locks. Mangled boats and dredged up debris filled the space. Cranes and wenches carefully pulled items away, but it would take the rest of the week to complete that job. Then they could see how badly the lock doors were damaged and what needed to be done to repair them. At this point, Nathan hesitated to even think about that daunting task, he had enough to worry about already. He would leave those problems in Jim Meeks’ hands.
Nathan was shocked and outraged by the talk going around after the battle. Once the fear and uncertainty of the threat ended, negative talk started circulating about David’s actions. After-the-fact second guessing was unfortunately natural in warfare. It was fueled by everyone’s fear that electricity was gone forever. Such talk wouldn’t normally bother him, but David’s ego seemed fragile of late and the talk only made him more defensive.
