A New World: Reckoning

by John O'Brien

  “Things are under control here. I’ll send Watkins and then I’m joining you. I want to get a look at this bitch,” she answers.

  I open up and give Robert a brief synopsis of where we stand. “Land in the field and drop Harold off. Alpha Team will meet you. How’s your fuel?”

  “We have enough for a few more hours but that’s it,” he replies.

  “Okay. Shut down and Alpha will return to provide security.

  “Okay, Dad. We’ll be on our way shortly.”

  “Lynn, Robert is on his way. After Watkins escorts Harold in, have him return to the aircraft for security,” I call.

  “Okay, Jack. I’m on my way.”

  Gonzalez maintains her alert guard, having replaced her M-4 with her handgun. Lynn arrives looking a little the worse for wear. Her bloodshot eyes tell of her tiredness, but she enters the room with a look of grim determination. Seeing Nahmer sitting calmly at the table, her lips tighten even more.

  “Are you alright?” I ask, seeing blood streaks on one side of her face.

  She runs her fingers across the wound. “Yeah, it’s just a scratch.”

  Nahmer looks from Lynn’s entrance to me, her calm expression never leaving.

  “Before you discuss what to do about me, or do anything else, I would beg your indulgence with something,” Nahmer asks, her accent only slightly betraying her origins.

  “You are not in a position to ask for anything,” Lynn states firmly.

  “That is true, but I would ask it nonetheless,” Nahmer replies.

  “And what is this indulgence you want us to give you?” Lynn asks, staring hard at Nahmer.

  “I have some…business to take care of before you decide what to do with me,” Nahmer says, her implication clear.

  “They are here? In this facility?” I ask.

  “Yes, they are.”

  “Why would you want to see them dead?” I question.

  “Because, it was their foolishness that made me lose,” she asserts.

  As much as her winning would have been the end of us, I can understand her desire.

  “We’ll escort you,” Lynn asserts, taking any decision out of my hands.

  Nahmer rises with both Gonzalez and Lynn covering her, their faces tightened by anger and alertness. With Nahmer leading, we gather Henderson and Denton and proceed farther into the complex, turning down several halls. We walk slowly to make sure we aren’t being set up for an ambush, but it seems this part of the bunker is empty. Rounding a corner, Nahmer comes to halt.

  “See that door with the camera overhead?” Nahmer asks, pointing. “That leads to their quarters.”

  I also note the keypad next to the door.

  “Give me the entry card or passcode and we’ll handle it,” I say.

  “No, this is something I have to do myself. This is the indulgence I am asking for,” she replies.

  “No, we’re going with you,” Lynn states.

  “If they see you, they’ll more than likely lock us out, if they haven’t done so already,” Nahmer says.

  “So, we’ll wait them out,” Lynn says.

  Nahmer chuckles. “Good luck with that. They’re well supplied in there.”

  I stare into Nahmer’s eyes and see that she is speaking the truth. I don’t see any falsehood written in them, but then again, she was an operative. It’s a risk, but I feel that she’s being honest.

  “Go then, and make it snappy,” I state.

  I return her handgun, making sure she only has a single mag. As much as the risk is that she’ll just flee or try to organize something, I understand on another level what she wants to do and believe that she’ll return. It’s something I can’t fully explain other than a knowing and that, even though we ended up as opponents, we were once in the same game together. All of this was conveyed in that single look.

  With a nod, Nahmer turns and walks down the hall, the sound of her boots echoing off the walls of the wide, empty hallway.

  “Jack! You’re just letting her go? Just like that?” Lynn asks, incredulous.

  “She’ll be back,” I answer, watching Nahmer swipe a card and enter.

  “Yeah, and how do you know that? And what will she be back with? And how many? Sometimes you just amaze me, Jack,” Lynn says, obviously not happy.

  “She’ll be back,” I say, looking to Lynn.

  “What, you know that from that look you two shared? That’s what told you?” Lynn states, her anger mounting.

  ‘Jealous much’ wouldn’t be the appropriate response, so I press my lips together to prevent the words from being uttered. Besides, I know that this isn’t where her reaction is coming from. It’s been a tense day and one filled with adrenaline. I understand what she is saying, and I just don’t know how to explain it, really even to myself. I try to but do a very poor job of it.

  “It’s a weird kind of honor, but honor nonetheless,” I end up saying.

  “I know you have your reasons, and I love you for them, but they’re just hard to take sometimes. I can’t believe you’re going to let that woman go. The woman who gave the order that was meant to kill you but killed Allie instead. And destroyed Greg’s team while almost killing him as well.”

  “I haven’t forgotten, and for that, she’ll pay. I just don’t know what that means yet,” I respond.

  “I do. Kill her. With her around, those soldiers under guard are more of a threat.”

  “I’m aware of that…but…more than likely, she also knows these systems better than anyone and we need that info.”

  “Harold can figure it out, and we have the technicians,” Lynn says.

  “That may be the case, but what if he can’t and we eliminate the one person who does know. We need to wait and find out what she knows. These systems can help us with the night runners who are gathering at our doorstep. It will also help us find survivors,” I respond.

  “Fine, Jack, but I don’t like it.”

  “Me either,” I say, turning back to watch the door.

  * * * * * *

  Gav swipes her card and hears the door unlock. Feeling the handgun firmly in her grip, she opens the door and steps inside. The posh carpet and surroundings of the foyer tell the story of those who reside within. With a sigh, she walks through the foyer toward the conference room. The men, who orchestrated this whole mess, will know what is happening and that’s where they will be waiting for her to report. She’s surprised they haven’t summoned her yet, but that would only have been a matter of time.

  Before entering the chambers, she checks the mag, clicks it back into place, and tucks the handgun in the beltline at her back. Knocking on the heavy wooden door, she hears “enter.” Inside, it’s just as she’s witnessed numerous times, five elderly men sitting around the polished conference room table. They are dressed in suits which she could never really understand.

  I mean, who are they getting dressed up for? Each other? she has thought countless times.

  However, that doesn’t matter at the moment. They’ll make nice burial attire.

  “Have you come to report on the disturbances, Gavrielle?” one man asks, sitting at the head of the table.

  Disturbances? Even now, they are so out of touch with reality.

  “I have,” she answers.

  “Then tell us what you are doing about the intruders,” the man says.

  Calmly, Gav pulls the handgun out and fires point blank at the man at the head of the table. The report of the gunshot fills the room, muted to a degree by the plush carpeting and books lining the walls. The round leaves the barrel and strikes forcefully just to the left of his nose. Blood sprays outward, splashing on the two men on either side. The man rocks backward in his plush chair, tipping to one side and falling heavily to the floor.

  All of the men’s eyes widen from shock, looking from their fallen member to Gav, their mouths open. Wasting little time, Gav aims at the next man and pulls the trigger. A wisp of smoke trails out of the barrel following the bullet as it streaks towa
rd her target. The man joins the first on the floor, lying in a pool of blood soaking into the thick carpet. The men recover from their shock and twist to get out of their chairs in an attempt to get away from the vengeance that is being administered.

  Their soft lives make any attempt weak at best. Gav fires at one who is attempting to rise. The bullet slams into the side of his head, launching him across the arm of a chair, his weight toppling it. He comes to rest with the overturned chair lying on top of him.

  The two remaining are bolting for the door, the term bolting being relative. She fires into the back of one of the fleeing men. The silken threads of his suit coat puffs from the projectile passing through on its way to find flesh and bone. With a scream, he lurches forward, his hand automatically going to his back and the sudden pain. His legs give out from the intrusion upon his body and he falls face forward just before the open door.

  The last man stumbles out of the doorway, making a feeble effort to close it behind him. Gav calmly walks across the room, one once filled with the fragrance of expensive cologne. Now it holds the rank odors of death. Passing the man bawling in pain from the bullet wound in his back, she fires one round into the back of his head, silencing the cries.

  She hears frantic scrambling from the remaining man as he tries to make it to the outer doorway, his panting from fright and exertion audible. Stalking behind, she removes something from her pocket and places it in her mouth, tucking it between her cheek and gum. Rounding a corner, she spies her quarry almost to the door leading into the hallway.

  Without slowing, he plows into it which opens under the force of his impact. He stumbles backward and, regaining his balance, starts forward once again. Gav raises her handgun and fires.

  * * * * * *

  I continue to watch the doorway that Nahmer entered. Lynn is silent as she stands beside me but I can feel the anger emanating from her. I know she doesn’t understand my decisions at times, well, most of the time if truth be known. And she has a valid reason as they sometimes seem illogical, even to me. However, I’ve stayed alive by going with my gut instinct, as illogical as it may be.

  Gonzalez and the others of Red Team stand watch covering the hallway, but I note their speculative glances aimed toward me. They all startle, going to their knees and bringing their M-4s to bear as the door suddenly swings open.

  A man in a suit stumbles, going to his knees and then falls forward to the floor. He frantically turns his head, looking at something, or someone, within the room from which he just fled. Nahmer walks out and stands beside him. Looking down at the man, she raises her pistol and fires. The man slumps to the ground.

  I sense the tension coming from Lynn and the others.

  “Hold your fire,” I tell them, still watching the scene ahead.

  Nahmer looks in our direction and very slowly places her weapon on the floor. With her hands raised, she walks toward us. We escort her back into the conference room where she takes her previous seat.

  I begin asking questions about the systems in place, but she forestalls me with an upraised hand which brings an almost violent response from both Lynn and Gonzalez.

  “Before we go any further, the man you have, Harold I believe, will be able to figure them out,” Nahmer says. “Plus, you have the technicians.”

  “Harold? You know about him?” I ask.

  “Yes. We photographed him in your compound and ran him through our system. He was the one who disappeared after we caught him in our network. I assume that’s how you figured this all out,” she answers.

  “Wait, you sound like we’ve already made a decision about you,” I say.

  I catch Lynn’s nod in my peripheral.

  “No, but I have made a decision that will save you from having to make one,” Nahmer says.

  “You didn’t?”

  “I did. I’m afraid that I made a wrong choice many years ago, and it has now caught up with me,” she states. “And I’ve continued making the wrong choices when I should have made the right one. I should have approached you long ago but I became caught up in the game. There is no place for me in this world anymore.”

  “Jack, what is she talking about?” Lynn growls.

  Nahmer’s eyes clinch from pain and a trickle of blood streams out of one nostril. Recovering, she wipes a hand across her face, smearing the blood across her upper lip and part of her cheek.

  “I see that I don’t have much time left. I’m sorry for your losses, Captain Walker.”

  Her eyes clinch tightly shut once again, then her whole body relaxes and her head falls to the table with a thud. Blood slowly trickles out of her nostril, forming a small pool beside her head.

  “Holy shit!” Gonzalez exclaims. “Why in the fuck would she do that?”

  “Because she’s been dedicated to her cause for so long that it meant everything to her. She knew we couldn’t keep her around so she opted to make it her choice,” I say, looking at the body lying on the table as if napping. For all of the wrongs she did to us, the woman was once a legend.

  “Good. She just made it easier for us, that’s all,” Lynn says, checking Nahmer’s pulse.

  Harold arrives with Alpha, who leaves him in our care before heading back to the aircraft. Even though we have things under control here, it’s still nighttime and anything can happen. It’s possible that night runners could be heading in our direction, following the sound of the 130 landing. So far, we’ve been lucky with that and we may be too far from any of their lairs for them to be a factor. Robert is keeping the aircraft locked up and can sense them should any draw near, but there may be others around besides night runners. Doubtful considering where we are standing, but not impossible. Seeing as we may be here for a while sorting through documents and files, and feeling nervous about Robert and Bri being outside with only one team to guard them, I call and have Alpha escort them and Craig inside.

  On arriving, after a brief, Harold sits at a console in the operations center and begins going through manuals and documents. I have a few technicians, under guard, released to him to answer his questions. With the leadership gone, they become helpful without any attempts at evasion. I still don’t trust them or the soldiers but, from what I observe, they are being compliant.

  Harold takes to the ops center like a kid in a candy factory. He’s a frenzy of activity that seems disjointed to me but I’m sure it makes sense to him. Soon, the desktop at the console is spread with papers, files, and notebooks. I’m thankful for the time we’ll have to spend here as it puts off any decision about the soldiers. The survivors, of which there are close to three hundred, outnumber our entire group back at Cabela’s. That could make for problems down the road if they take it in mind to be troublesome. I’m sure they are viewing themselves as prisoners, and as such, it means that we are still viewed as an opposing force. With the training they’ve been through, they will see it as their obligation and duty to escape and/or be disruptive. Perhaps seeing that we have regular duty soldiers with us, they’ll change their perspective. I’ll talk it over with Lynn and the other team leads to see what they think.

  After giving Harold some time to give things a cursory scan, and knowing it will more than likely take days or weeks to compile everything, I head into the operations center with Lynn. We may not have all that much time with the 130 just sitting out there. I’d like to clear out of here and get back to Cabela’s soon as we still have a very big threat infiltrating from the north. It may be that we have to either come back later or leave some teams in place. The prisoners are a sticky issue though.

  I take a seat next to Harold, who is so completely absorbed by his work that he doesn’t notice me arrive. Getting his attention, he looks up startled to see me.

  “Well?” I ask.

  Harold transitions from his absorption to the present. I fully expect him to launch into a series of statements that have nothing to do with each other, like when he found the files on the CDC Director’s hard drive. But he takes a minute to compose himself
.

  “There’s a lot here, and I’ve only begun to scratch the surface of it. One thing, the information we found on the hard drive is correct. They…” he sweeps his arm to indicate the entire facility and those within, “…initiated this whole thing but things went wrong almost immediately. Like I originally thought, they didn’t anticipate the night runners and that interfered with the staffing of the other sites. From all appearances, none of them made it into operation. There’s more but I’ll have to dig deeper.

  “I also found the reason for the failure of the satellite comms. According to the few logs I’ve read so far, they discovered our means of communication with the Santa Fe and had the comm channels blocked.”

  “Can we unblock them?” Lynn asks.

  “We’re fixing that now,” Harold indicates, pointing to a technician at a nearby console.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, letting them have access like that?” Lynn asks.

  “I’m monitoring it. I’ll know if they tap into something they shouldn’t. So far, they’ve been nothing but helpful. I don’t know if this Nahmer gave them different orders, but they’re being cooperative for now,” Harold answers.

  Restoring the satellite communications, I try contacting Leonard to no avail. I’ll keep trying at intervals, but at least I know that we have the ability to do so without having to conduct a search for him.

  “This,” Harold holds up a notebook, “is a list of other survivor camps that they’ve found. They have them designated according the number of people and capabilities.

  “You can see ours here,” he opens to a page.

  Each of the lists has numbers, capabilities, and observed activities, to include increases and decreases in population and contacts with other groups. It’s a fairly comprehensive listing. Our camp includes high-res photos of our group, listing the leadership structure. Looking over the notebook, I’m impressed with what they were able to derive from just photographs. Of course, Nahmer had mentioned they ran some through a system they have in place.