Dark New World (Book 5): EMP Resurrection

by Henry G. Foster

  Choony said, “My friend here will stay with the wagon, then. I mean no offense, but we don’t know you yet and the little we brought with us means survival. I hope that will be okay.”

  The guard pursed his lips. “Sorry, but we don’t know you, either. The boss said both or none. It’s up to you, though. We can walk you both out, or we can walk you both to the boss.”

  Choony felt a certain tension in the air. Probably he and Jaz would be killed if they declined now, just on the off chance they were raider spies scoping out the defenses. Regardless, his mission was to make contact, so he made a snap decision. “I totally understand. We really do want to meet your leader, that’s our mission. We would be delighted for you to lead both of us to your boss. Please do keep our wagon safe.”

  Jaz, nodding, added, “Trust has to start somewhere. Your house, your rules.”

  The escort led them one more block in and one to the right, to what seemed the center of the walled-off section of town. Along the way they noticed piles of something or other, covered by tarps and cardboard. Those must be their stockpiles, Choony decided, and felt much better.

  They came to a large, ornate home with too many dead plants. Even the evergreen tree in the front yard looked brown and dying. Water must be an issue for these people, despite a stream that lay half a mile north of town. Maybe that kind of infrastructure would be something worth trading. He filed it away in his mind for possible future use. First things first.

  One of their escorts knocked, and a deep voice from within called out, “Enter.” The guard opened the door and led the way in while the other guard brought up the rear and closed the door behind them.

  Inside, the house was warm from a fire crackling in the fireplace, and well lit by several storm lamps. It had once been the living room but now was dominated by a large L-shaped desk with filing cabinets to one side. Behind the desk sat a man who had obviously once been obese. He wasn’t now, but his skin hung from him like melting rubber. It did not look healthy. The EMPs had led to everyone losing weight, of course.

  The man rose behind the desk to his full height, just shy of six foot, and ran his left hand through thinning brown hair. He leaned across the desk and extended his right hand. “I’m Bradley, the Boss of Intercourse. That’s my temporary title until I find something better. And that shouldn’t be too difficult.” He smiled and Choony relaxed a little.

  Choony took the offered hand and then Jaz, smiling politely, shook his hand as well. “I’m Choony and this is Jaz. We’re envoys from the Clan, up to the north a bit, and we speak for the greater Confederation our local groups have put together. They sent us to reach out and make contact with other survivor groups. Thank you for taking time to see us, boss.”

  “Have a seat then, guests from the Clan. We’ve heard of the Clan, and of this Confederation too, from traveling merchants. We used to have items to trade, but now we’re set until spring planting and only that. Nothing’s left we can trade.”

  Choony nodded, thinking. It was certainly possible they had heard of the Clan, which had become something of a local legend, after all. But the Confederation? Only the story of traveling merchants could explain that, so maybe he was being honest. Falconry merchants were roaming far from home now, after all, and the new Confederation would be just the sort of news to open doors.

  “I hope you traded well,” Choony said with a friendly smile, trying to be disarming. It was a type of dishonesty, he had reasoned early in this trip, but it was for an honorable cause. Still, he wasn’t very good at it. Maybe he should turn it over to Jaz now.

  “Bunch of horses and loads of hay, in exchange for some extra firearms we weren’t using and had little ammo for. Guy said they had more ammo than guns back home, so it seemed fair. Come spring, those horses will serve us well plowing some fields or something. I leave that to my farming gurus.”

  “Makes sense,” Choony commented, but Bradley spoke before he could continue.

  “What doesn’t make sense is why you’re out here with two people and one gun. Doesn’t add up. Care to elaborate?” He still smiled, but Choony noted that his eyes had narrowed just a fraction of an inch. He was wary, just as Choony himself was. It was a reasonable question.

  “At least that question has an easy answer,” Choony chuckled. “I’m a devout Buddhist, and will not participate in violence. I have no need of a weapon, since I will not use one.”

  “You want me to believe you’ve survived this long without ever getting violent with someone? I’ve met religious folks before, and most of ’em give up those fancy ideals as soon as their precious comfort gets threatened.”

  “Perhaps. But I have been lucky. I was accepted into the Clan during its earliest days, and have made myself useful in other ways since then.”

  “So this woman is your bodyguard, then?” Bradley asked, raising one eyebrow.

  “I’m not ashamed to have a woman protect me, if that’s what you mean. She’s brave and capable, and she fights if people shoot at us, though that hasn’t happened on this trip. More importantly, she’s an envoy as well as me. Sometimes people would rather talk to me, others to her. So we both go, and it works out however it works out.”

  Jaz, sitting in the chair beside Choony, said, “I know you’re thinking he’s, like, a coward or something, but nothing could be less true. He’s one of the bravest people I know.”

  Jaz glanced at Choony, and saw him give a faint smile and nod, so she continued, “Yeah, he won’t lift a finger to do anything violent, but I’ve seen him run across an open field toward attackers, under gunfire, to retrieve a wounded Clanner, or to bring more ammo to a Clanner pinned down in a foxhole. He’s also a capable medic.”

  As she spoke, Choony shifted in his seat awkwardly. He wasn’t the kind of guy who liked to hear his own horn tooted, but it was important this leader knew Choony was no coward. “He speaks his mind regardless of the danger, but always manages to do so in a way that inspires people so they rethink. I’ve never seen him make anyone angry even when he totally disputes what they said. He’s a member of the Clan’s leadership council for a reason, and the Clan doesn’t tolerate cowards.”

  Bradley, both eyebrows now raised, cocked his head at her, smiled good-humoredly and leaned back in his chair. He looked at Jaz for another long moment, and then turned to Choony and chewed on his lip. Finally he sat upright again and smiled. “Choony, I’m going to take her at her word. She’s very convincing.” He shifted his gaze briefly to nod an appreciation to Jaz, then returned to Choony. “I wouldn’t offend the Clan by insulting a member of their Council. They surely see a good reason to keep you around. Now that I have Clan people in my office, I figure the rumors about both the Clan and the bigger alliance forming must be true, and that we have you all to thank for making our northern and western outposts a lot safer.”

  Choony’s ears perked at that. Outposts? That implied a better level of organization than he’d have imagined from what he had seen here in town. And that made them a greater potential threat—or a greater ally. “I’m glad we could help our neighbors, even indirectly. The alliance you heard of is real. It was the Clan’s leader who forged the idea into a reality. She is a remarkable woman and I’d love to introduce her to you personally someday.”

  Jaz nodded her agreement. “The things Cassy’s led the Clan to do, the problems she’s overcome, the enemies she’s driven away or killed—including invader troops. I suppose she is, I mean, she’s a mother bear about the Clan, with emphasis on the bear.”

  Bradley chuckled at the image and Jaz paused, waiting for a comment, but he waved her to go on.

  “The thing is, she has a knack for finding ways to solve any problem we’ve come across so far, and our allies each owe the Clan their own lives one way or another because of her leadership.” She paused to openly examine Bradley and added, “She acts kind of like you do, actually. I mean, when we’re not under attack, she doesn’t shout or bully people or act like she thinks she’s special. She�
�s always friendly and open to reasonable ideas, which is the feeling I get from you. No offense.”

  Bradley laughed and replied, “How could I take offense at flattery like that?” Holding his smile, he added, “Why do I feel like this is a sales pitch? A good one, because I actually believe you from the rumors I’ve heard, and you, Miss Jaz, are completely charming. But it still feels like a sales pitch.” Then he turned back to Choony. “What does the Clan want anyway with little old Intercourse, Pennsylvania?”

  Choony smiled, and gave Bradley a slight bow. “You are observant. That’s a good quality in any leader. First and foremost, the Clan seeks peace between herself and her neighbors. Peace requires understanding. Other than a couple raiders and cannibal groups, most of the people we’ve met are happy to come to an understanding with the Clan and our allies in this regard.”

  “Oh, so you’ve met a lot? Other than the people in your Confederation, I mean.”

  “Some, yes. Most are simply doing what they must to survive. They’re reinventing some of the old, lost crafts, and work hard to leave their kids in a less threatening world. They’re just people. The survivors we’ve found who don’t raid others have proven themselves to be courageous, able to adapt quickly, and sensible. It’s been encouraging. That’s why I volunteered for this travel. There is strength in numbers and we want our Confederation to thrive.”

  “Plus, I really like to meet new people,” Jaz added, smiling winsomely at Bradley.

  Bradley said, “Given the Clan’s good reputation, and its resistance to the would-be conquerors of America, I suspect we can easily come to a peace agreement with you. Assuming, of course, that the Clan will honor our two-mile-radius boundary. That’s our land, and we’ll protect it, of course. Please don’t misunderstand me—that’s not a threat. It’s what we claim as ours, just as the Clan claims its territory and wouldn’t tolerate strangers settling next door without their approval. Or I assume they wouldn’t, since no one thinks them fools.”

  Choony smiled. “Of course. The Clan is no fool, and we do just as you say. We’ve actually invited some refugee groups to settle on nearby abandoned farms, if they seem honorable. Every group we’ve added has made our security more solid. From my map, I believe we’d be willing to honor your two-mile territorial border. The Clan isn’t looking to expand its territory, only its alliances and peace agreements. The Confederation has grown because mutual trade and support are vital to survival in our region. That’s probably true in every region these days.”

  Bradley leaned further back, placing his hands behind his head and crossing his leg casually. “Very well, then. Let’s talk about the nitty-gritty.”

  Choony smiled politely, but masked the giddiness he felt. A major enclave with its own outposts, and every sign that they might be a fine addition to the Confederation. This would secure the Clan’s southeastern border, if an accord could be reached. He leaned forward and prepared for the real negotiations to begin. This part wasn’t his strongest suit, but with Jaz at hand he never had to worry about slipping up. She knew people better than anybody.

  * * *

  Ethan burst out of the HQ—Cassy’s house—and bolted for the outdoor kitchen. It was lunch time, and Cassy would be there shortly if she wasn’t already. She wasn’t in the kitchen or the chow line, so he entered the giant Army-surplus pavilion tent that served as a chow hall, and spotted Cassy as she sat down next to Frank. Michael’s wife, Tiffany, was also there. He crossed the distance in half a dozen paces, and plopped down on the picnic table bench next to Cassy.

  Cassy took one look at Ethan and grinned. “You look excited about something. What have you come to tell me, oh great Elfen Paladin Warrior?”

  “It’s Elven Shadow-Knight,” he grinned back, “and it’s hard to play online games without any online to speak of, but the great Shadow-Knight shall never–never! I say–be forgotten.” He declared that last in a booming, speech-making voice, and got a chuckle from those at the table. “But yes, despite your teasing, I have great news,” Ethan added in a staccato blast of words.

  When Cassy raised an eyebrow, he continued, “I just got news from Florida by way of one of my HAMhead friends. Care to guess?”

  “They solved the problem with their lack of pythons in every bathtub?”

  “Funny, ha ha. No, but almost as good. Last night the survivor group alliance in Florida, which had Orlando’s invasion zone bottled up, launched a massive counter-assault on the city. The fighting went on all night, but a couple hours ago the last of the ’vader defensive lines cracked, and Americans are surging through the city, mopping up the Russian and Cuban forces in detail.”

  Frank slammed his fist on the table. “Yesss!” he hissed, and cocked his head. “I assume ‘in detail’ means something specific?”

  Ethan replied, “Yeah, basically it means ‘one piece at a time.’ They’re going from building to building now, slaughtering ’vaders wherever they find them. By tomorrow morning there won’t be a Russian or Cuban foreign fighter left alive in Orlando, or anywhere else in Florida.”

  Cassy clapped Ethan on the shoulder. “That’s fantastic news! It doesn’t help with our ISNA-Korean problem, but it could mean a strong American core to occupy the invaders from Louisiana to Virginia—and that can only help us in the long run.”

  Tiffany smiled, but her tone was somber. “Well, let’s pray to the Flying Spaghetti Monster, or Thor, or the god of your choice, that Florida keeps their act together and they don’t fall apart from politics, now that the immediate threat is gone.”

  Ethan’s grin faded. “Damn, Tif. You’re such a TPKer.”

  The others stared blankly at him. Oh for crying out loud. Of course they wouldn’t know even that simple gaming term… “Total Party Killer, Tiffany. A buzzkill. It’s when the Game Master—”

  “I get the idea, Ethan,” Tiffany said, laughing. “You and your games. If you weren’t such a great fighter, too, I wouldn’t know what to make of you.”

  Frank added, “Thanks for sharing the great news, man. It makes lunch taste so much better.”

  Tiffany nodded enthusiastically, then took a bite of her bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich, closing her eyes to savor the flavor. “Mmmm….” escaped her lips as she chewed.

  Actually, after a winter of Constant Stew and bread, a B.L.T. sounded amazing to everyone… The next batch of cold-frame produce must have been harvested! It’d be a couple weeks before there was more, but the scouting teams were gathering up more fast-food trays as quickly as they found them because they made perfect cold frames.

  Ethan, always ready for good food, looked around and blurted, “If you’ll pardon me, I’m going to celebrate America’s latest win by getting my own sammich! I’ll be right back.” His stomach growled loudly just as he got up, to the good-natured laughter of the others.

  * * *

  Cassy sat outside later, in the last full rays of sunlight for the day. It had been warmer than usual, a sure sign that spring would soon be on them.

  Spring, with days full of sowing seeds in the raised beds of the Jungle, which Cassy had designed to become the farm’s intensive gardening section and the Clan had taken as proof of Cassy’s genius despite her protests that she had learned it from books.

  Other teams would keep busy throwing out seed bombs that would sow dandelions and other opportunistic “weeds” that would soon restore the soil for thousands of acres all around Clanholme itself. Weeds were merely early succession plants, as she had taught her Clan classes, and would give way soon enough to other more human-useful plants as the soil improved from the barren, starved dirt it had become under modern farming practices.

  Meanwhile, dandelions themselves were delicious as fresh produce, and the other seeds in their weed bombs started plants with either food value or medicinal uses, or might germinate into flowers to draw pollinating bees into the self-sustaining ecosystem… and spring was when the new, half-random plant groupings took form.

  Also a result of su
ch projects, spring was almost as busy as autumn. This current brief window of relative warmth in the sunlight would be one of the last she could enjoy at leisure until after the autumn harvests were in. She had no trouble lazing back to enjoy it.

  Her little handheld radio crackled, and she brought her mind back to focus on Ethan’s voice. “Charlie One, this is Charlie Two,” Ethan announced. “We have five riders inbound from the south—Lititz just alerted us. They’ll be here in about twenty mikes, coming up via Newport Road. They say they’re envoys sent by Choony, but no additional information.”

  Cassy’s heart leapt with joy at hearing that Choony still lived. She figured he would, or she wouldn’t have sent him on his mission with Jaz, but confirmation was a glad and welcome bit of news. “Received. Get a squad to meet them outside the southern Food Forest zone, disarm them or turn them away. We’re eager to talk but not if they’re walking around as armed strangers.”

  Ethan acknowledged and the radio went dead. Cassy wasn’t sure which one she wanted to deal with more, the last full rays of sunshine or new envoys to meet and greet. Probably the sunshine, but too bad. Duty called. She let out a long breath, then got up from her lawn chair and hurried inside to spruce up.

  Half an hour later, Cassy watched from the guard tower with borrowed binoculars, waiting for something to happen. Then she saw people emerging from the Food Forest south of her house—her ten guards, five on each side of five new people. The newcomers walked in a row pushing mountain bikes. She handed the binoculars back to the tower guard with a nod and climbed back down the rope ladder to await their arrival.

  Michael joined her as she waited. Ethan had of course alerted the head of security about the intrusion. Her military C.O. was armed only with his pistol, however, and Cassy was grateful that he thought better of bringing his usual rifle. Greeting guests was often tense work, and leaders carrying rifles didn’t shout trust or confidence.