Glimmer of Hope (Land of Tomorrow Book 1)

by King, Ryan

  “We keep talking about getting the world back to the way it was, back to the good old times. Well, friends, I’ve got to break it to you…not everything about the old world was good, including our lack of general courtesy and civility toward each other.” Reggie saw some looks of confusion, but the majority just looked uncomfortable.

  “I know some will think my remarks quaint, but civility and courtesy are important. They are important because we cannot live together in a civilized society filled with light and decency and goodness without civility and common courtesy. These are the oil that allows the machinery of civilization to run, and before N-Day these traits were starting to break down, even if we didn’t want to admit it. Not everything about the old world was worthy of emulating. We lived in a world where any act of nobility, selflessness service, or personal sacrifice was so unnatural as to be incomprehensible. We can do better…we have to do better.”

  Reggie decided that he wasn’t really speaking to the people he was looking at, but all the listeners on radios gathered in clusters across their new country. He decided to speak to them. “We have a rare opportunity here to make a new nation, a new world…better than the old, but it will not be given to us. We must use the ingenuity, hard work, and cooperation that our forefathers did when they hacked a life out of the wilderness. Were they better than we are, stronger? Were they more able than we, more courageous? I dare say no! The difference is that they were ready and willing to do whatever it took to survive and build better lives for their children and their children’s children. We must demonstrate that same spirit, and soon.”

  “The war with the WTR has ended, and a peace that I pray will last is secured. But the world is still a dangerous place, and we will be a target for generations to come. We cannot afford to go back to the ways of the old world, the corruption, the lies, the deceit, the manipulation, the baseness, the senseless anger and the acts of violence! We want more and we must have more if we are to survive.” Reggie realized that he was nearly yelling and people were looking at him with shock. None of them had ever seen him like this.

  Reggie took a deep breath. “Friends, we have to open our eyes. This nation we have made here out of the death and destruction is a good thing. Maybe even a unique thing, a light on a hill, but it is fragile still. This country is not a bunch of elected officials, or government structure, or bureaucracy…it is you and I, us, all of us working together toward something larger than ourselves, for the succeeding generations.” Reggie suddenly felt spent and tired and run down. He had said what he had been holding in. He had said his piece. Well, almost.

  “One more thing friends and neighbors, and I will retire from you in every sense of the word.” Reggie pulled out the piece of wrinkled paper Brazen had given him and unfolded it carefully. “I have a saying here given to me by a friend.” Reggie smiled at Brazen who nodded back. “It was written many years ago by an American President who had seen and endured much adversity and had many unfair and hurtful things said about him. I feel it is apt now and I would like to close with his words rather than any of my own.” Reggie paused and looked out over the crowds before looking down at the quote and continuing.

  “’It is not the critic who counts, nor the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.’ President Theodore Roosevelt, 1910.”

  Reggie drew in a deep breath and looked over the crowd. It was enough, he could rest now. “Thank you all for giving me the opportunity to serve you. That service has been the most distinct and greatest honor of my life. Good evening to all of you, and God bless us all.” Reggie turned and walked off the stage and there was a moment of stunned silence before applause erupted like an oncoming wave.

  Reggie first met his wife and gave her a hug and a kiss before they were both mobbed by people slapping his back, shaking his hand, and trying to talk to him. Reggie discovered that at that very moment he really did not care for any of it. He had no ill will towards them. Quite the contrary. But his soul craved peace and tranquility, like a starving man craved food. “Let’s go home,” he whispered in Janice’s ear and she smiled and kissed him again.

  With the help of friends they were able to extricate themselves from the crowd and make their way over to the horse and buggy. Reggie helped Janice in while someone held her crutches. He then climbed up waving to everyone and Reggie had a sudden flashback to their wedding day thirty-eight years ago. He recognized how strangely similar the two scenes were. Reggie couldn’t think of a better or more welcome memory to come to mind. He sat high on the seat with his wife beside him and looked out over the crowd cheering them. Reggie didn’t know if he had done a good job, but he knew he had done his best and it was enough. His work was done.

  Reggie waved one final time, slapped the reins on the horse’s rump, and rode toward home and the peace he felt they had earned. It was a wonderful ending and also a promising beginning.

  Theirs’ was a new world, if not filled with hope, then at least a tiny spark, a glimmer of hope that just might be enough.

  The End.

  Epilogue

  Ethan Schweitzer was dead tired, but proud of his accomplishments. He had been in constant motion since the death of General Sampson and he finally thought things were secure enough for him to relax and get a full night’s sleep for once. Ethan made a quick decision to stop work early this evening and eat a good meal before getting to bed early. It was already dark outside, but the electrical lights kept the night at bay.

  He reached over and pushed a button which rang a buzzer down the hall. A uniformed aide appeared several moments later. “Yes, Mister President,” he said.

  “Tonight I would like beef ravioli in a white cream sauce. Also, a glass of Chianti,” said Ethan after some deliberation.

  “Very good, Mister President,” said the man. “Would you like anything while it is being prepared, perhaps some fresh bread with butter?”

  “No, that is all,” said Ethan dismissively.

  The aide walked backwards out of the room and closed the door quietly behind him. They were all scared of him now, and that was just the way Ethan wanted it. They had reason to be scared. He would not hesitate to destroy any of them if they got in his way or threatened his vision of his future. Most men would probably justify their ambition and actions by saying it was best for the people or the country or society. Not Ethan, he knew his ambitions and his current position were about him. He was not embarrassed by this knowledge.

  Everything was shaping up nicely. The tribute paid to the JP had been difficult to stomach, but it was worth it to get the electricity back on and secure peace. Besides, he felt confident that they would get the territory back they had lost and reverse roles with the JP. It may not happen immediately, but it would happen. Ethan already had plans in the works and he almost always got what he wanted given time.

  He was very pleased with the way the JP elections had gone. Not only was General Anderson out of power, but now that sanctimonious Reggie Philips was gone from the picture as well. Paul Campbell was not initially happy about running for the office, or campaigning in the manner that Ethan directed, but what choice did he have? Ethan had Campbell’s only son.

  Finding his son had really been a matter of chance. The boy was on the way home from the University of Memphis on N-Day. He was just far enough north of the city so he didn’t die instantly, but he did sustain a near lethal dose of radiation. The boy made his way north through the ch
aos to a refugee camp before falling unconscious. Ethan’s man at the camp later scanned the boy’s driver’s license and sent it to the intelligence analysts who checked the name against their database. Ethan ordered the boy to be saved, he thought it might be useful to have such leverage over someone in the JP, and he had been right. Paul Campbell did what he was told to do, and he would continue to do so as long as Ethan held his son.

  Ethan’s biggest challenge was not to become impatient. He could make the new JP President do whatever he wanted, but for him to do too much might raise suspicion. No, he would be patient and bide his time. The right moment would come, he had no doubt, possibly when those crazy Missouri Alliance boys decided to push eastward. Ethan sent out diplomatic messages to them which were received haughtily, but the purpose of the messages was accomplished. They were now aware of the JP and coveted her resources. When they attacked the JP, Ethan could come in to help the JP and finally seize everything to combine the two countries. The power would then be all his.

  There came a light knock on the door after which the aide entered followed by two chefs. The first set the steaming plate of food down in front of Ethan along with silverware, and they laid a cloth napkin across his lap before stepping back. The other man moved forward to show Ethan the bottle of wine. After a quick glance he nodded, and the man opened the bottle. He poured a small amount in a crystal glass which Ethan tasted. Not great, but it would do, he told himself, everyone must sacrifice after all. He nodded and the man poured a full glass, set the bottle down and stepped back. They watched Ethan expectantly as he tried the ravioli. It was perfect, and he nodded to the three men who withdrew in obvious relief, closing the door behind them.

  He wasn’t sure exactly what he would do to these men if his meal was messed up, but their own imaginations certainly had conceived torturous ends. Fear inspired some men to greatness, thought Ethan, as he took another bite of the wonderful pasta.

  Fear and control, those were the keys to everything now. Ethan understood that and planned to make the most of those tools. It was all his now and he wanted to keep it. Not only that, but he would take everything else he could.

  Patience though, he told himself. Timing was critical to maximizing opportunities.

  Thinking about the future got Ethan’s heart racing and he decided that he would not go to bed early after all. He simply had too much to plan for and too much to do. It was a new world and Ethan planned to be king of it.

  He smiled as he sipped his wine.

  Author’s Note and Acknowledgements

  This story came to me during the great winter storm of 2010 when my family and I were trapped under six feet of snow on Fort Meade, Maryland where I was stationed at the time. My mind wandered during the times without electricity and I started imagining that we were all alone. This led me to thinking what my family and I would do in a real emergency which of course led to getting home. From that point the book largely wrote itself. There were times I couldn’t write fast enough to keep pace with the story in my head and often I couldn’t go to sleep at night due to my mind dwelling on the great adventure I had discovered. The first draft was written in a rush between February and May of 2010 during free moments late at night or on weekends. The final version took much longer.

  This novel went through numerous re-writes and revisions in order to improve the story and the final product. In order for this to happen I needed the help and input of friends who willingly took time to read my manuscript and provide input and support. My wife Kristin read the first draft and encouraged my writing efforts when I thought it was a little ridiculous and pretentious. My in-laws Sherman and Diane Chaudoin also provided helpful proofreading and wise insight. Dear friends and early readers Adam Dottle, Stan Szafran, David Conrad, Luke Jones, and my mother Betty Hill all did nearly as much for the story as I did myself. Fellow author David VanDyke made a final review and gave me the courage to cut and slash as much as I could stand and hopefully make a better book. For all the people above I am grateful and humbled by their support, love, and friendship. Thank you.

  The story of Nathan and this brave new world is not over. I’m working on the second book in this series Children of Wrath which I hope you get the chance to enjoy soon.

  Until then, stay strong friends.