Cassy muttered, “Thanks for joining me.”
“Of course. Any idea who they are?”
“No. Lititz radioed ahead to say these guys were coming, but all they said was that Choony and Jaz had sent them. But they have mountain bikes, like those raiders from Hershey, so we need to be on our toes.”
“I just hope they’re of more use than yesterday’s,” Michael replied. “Those people were nice, and very happy to join under Lititz’s banner, but I couldn’t see they’d be of much use.”
Cassy nodded slowly. He was right. They needed someone strong farther south in order to expand the Confederation’s borders in that direction, but so far Choony’s contacts had been with isolated, sometimes hurting homesteads. Not that they weren’t welcome, of course, but they weren’t terribly useful. “They sent five people, though,” she said thoughtfully. “That’s a hopeful sign, if they had that many to spare.”
Cassy and Michael stood in silence until the three columns approached, and then she strode forward to greet them, Michael right behind her. When she got close enough, she stopped and waited for them to come the last few feet. Let them send out their leader, rather than trying to guess.
The second man in line set down his bicycle and walked up to Cassy directly. He extended his hand. It was hard and calloused, like her own. “You must be Cassy, leader of the Clan and the Confederation, am I right?”
Cassy shook his hand and smiled. “I am, thank you. And you are?”
“I’m Thomas, but I guess by your custom my name’s Intercourse. Your envoy, Jaz, told me to say that.”
Cassy choked back laughter. Of course Jaz would do that. What a wonderful name… “Hello then, Thomas. She’s right, and we’ll call you by your home enclave name from now on, at least when you represent your group. An interesting name,” she added, grinning. “I bet you’ve heard every possible joke already so I’ll refrain. Won’t you and your companions please come have some water or cider, and we have some leftovers from lunch if you’re hungry.”
Intercourse smiled back. “We’d love something to drink to wash the road dust away, but we brought our own provisions. Thank you for the offer.”
Cassy nodded, approving. It was another good sign. These days you could tell much about a person by whether they accepted an offer of food or not. The greedy and the needy accepted; the polite and self-sufficient did not. “Very well, friend. Why don’t you and I retire to my house, and our Clanners will take care of your people while we talk.” She turned to Michael and said, “Can you have someone send us some water, cider, and a bottle of wine? We may ask you or Frank to join us in a bit.”
Then she led Intercourse into her home. Closing the door behind her, she said, “Please feel free to take a seat on the couch.” She sat in the reclining chair, facing the couch. “So, Intercourse. Where is that place? I haven’t heard of it. I spent most of my life in Philly and Chesterbrook, before the EMPs.”
“It was a small town about eight or ten miles east of Lancaster. Religious people settled it before that word took on new meanings, and named it for the sociable, cohesive nature they hoped for in their new community. Now it’s an even smaller town.”
Cassy raised an eyebrow. East of Lancaster… “Oh, so you know the people at White Stag Farms?” She said it casually, but it was anything but casual. White Stag people had fled their farms after the invaders sprayed it with their deadly brown-haze defoliant, and had conquered her people for a time. Now their leader, Peter, was long dead and missed by no one.
“Yes ma’am. They’re just east of us, maybe two miles. I knew them before the EMPs, and they were pretty good people. Tight-knit, though. Now that area’s dead and empty. We don’t know where they went, or if they all just died when the enemy sprayed their farm. I’ve kinda wondered about what happened to them.”
That was the right answer. Cassy smiled at Intercourse. “Yes, a few of them eventually joined the Clan but the rest died, I’m sorry to say. So tell me, how did your people meet my envoys?”
Michael entered with a cloth grocery sack containing water bottles, a sealed-top pitcher of fresh-drawn apple cider, and a bottle of some white wine or other. He handed Intercourse a water bottle, then set about pouring cups of cider. “Don’t mind me,” he said. “Happy to play the role of server today.” He nodded to Intercourse and added, “My people are busy getting to know your people. They seem to be hitting it off.”
Intercourse nodded to Michael and then continued to Cassy, “Your envoys, Choony and Jaz, came to us. Walked right up to our walls all calm and casual, unafraid. They didn’t even look nervous. That’s rare. It got our Boss’s attention, and out of curiosity he had us let them in. The Boss and they talked for a good hour at least. Choony gave assurances that your alliance would respect our two-mile border. He said you’re open to trade and so we thought, isn’t that great, because so are we. So as of right now, we have agreed with your diplomats to a peace treaty, and we want to open trade as soon as possible.”
Cassy nodded, her eyes sparkling. “We’ll abide by the agreement they made, pending verification from them of course. What sort of things do you have to trade?”
“I’m afraid that we currently have more things we need than things to offer, ma’am, but the Boss had an idea to balance the books out, so to speak.”
Cassy pursed her lips. Damn. Maybe freeloaders after all, despite what their manners would indicate. “We don’t trade for free, of course. As you probably know from experience, handing out supplies is a sucker’s bet. Everyone is barely getting by, so trade right now is more about swapping things you have for the things they have. Yes?”
Intercourse smiled at Cassy, seemingly oblivious to the unfavorable implications and blind to the expression on her face. “Of course. How else could subsistence communities do it? What we need isn’t food. That, we have enough of. What we need are odds and ends. Junk siding, pipes, duct tape—miscellaneous stuff you can use to make things, repair things, keep old technology working, even make into art or jerry-rig into useful stuff right on the spot. It’s crap you might have tons of, just lying around or piled up under tarps. Most of that stuff in Intercourse was looted by other towns before we got ourselves organized a couple months ago. Some of it got sprayed or stolen by the invading troops, too. We’re rebuilding now and we need that stuff.”
Cassy sipped her water, then accepted a cup of cider from Michael with an appreciative glance. “So what does Intercourse have to offer in return? It doesn’t sound like you have much.”
Intercourse shrugged. “Only a few things. A warehouse full of tarps of various sizes, perfect for building cover, for patching roofs, collecting or holding off rainwater, frost-protecting crops, collecting stocks of next year’s seeds, catching nut and fruit tree windfalls, whatever. We lucked onto a fully-stocked Army Surplus Store with bins full of all sorts of this and that. We’re happy to trade any of it at good value for us both. And lastly, we have something we know you want because Choony and Jaz told us all about it.”
“What might that be?” Cassy asked as she peered at her surprising guest over the rim of her cup.
“We offer you an alliance. A strong, well-organized southern neighbor that has survived these hungry times, outlasted the threats all around us, and is fully equipped. Between our compound in Intercourse and our outlying bases, we have about three hundred able-bodied adults under arms, mostly with civilian weapons but also with a few of the invaders’ AK rifles, or however you call those. We noticed we were getting fewer and fewer raiders from the north and west, and now we know why. It’s because you all got organized and cleaned house. Just like we did to your south. So let’s be allies.”
“And that makes you want an alliance? Could you explain further? It seems as if you’ve got a good handle on your territory, and we have ours locked down pretty tightly as well. I’d expect you to be less likely to need an alliance, not more. Just a thought.” Really, she wanted to gauge his response to her skepticism.
&nbs
p; “The Boss figures that makes us all kindred spirits. Plus, he was impressed by your envoy’s pacifist ways. You still took him in even though he won’t fight, and you just don’t see much of that these days, especially not for someone who looks like one of the invaders. And on top of that, the invaders are still out there somewhere, plotting and getting ready to pounce. A stronger alliance means safety in numbers. And one more thing…”
Cassy nodded, but kept her face expressionless. She’d recognized Choony’s “safety in numbers” phrase, of course, but that actually strengthened their believability. Whatever the envoy said next would be their true motivation, she decided, based on her pre-EMP marketing expertise. Maybe it would be reasonable, maybe not, but in any case it would speak volumes about what kind of people they were. “Go ahead, please. Speak freely.”
“As your diplomats have no doubt discovered, there are small homesteads and farms scattered throughout our corner of Pennsylvania and many are still occupied. Choony explained that when you add smaller groups to your Confederation, you place them under the wing of the nearest, strongest group of survivors. For our region, that’s us. We would ask that survivor groups in our neck of the woods be put under our, what do you call it, sphere of influence? By going through us, we improve communications, speed up reaction times and make our region more tight-knit.”
That wasn’t bad, Cassy mused, nodding thoughtfully. That was her exact reasoning for the way the Clan assigned small holdings to bigger nearby partners in the Confederation for protection, trade, and diplomacy. She could live with that. Of course it also meant they were trading their strength for free holdings in their area, negotiated by Clan envoys rather than spending their own manpower on it. “I think that, pending our agents’ report when they return, your proposal sounds reasonable enough. We’d also want to send one of our military leaders to your enclave to take a look at your defenses and supplies. You can say no to that, but I think it would greatly help in building trust from our people to yours, and it would let us know in more detail what we can do to help improve your defenses. We have some top-notch military talent among us. Marine Corps officers, for example. Michael, today’s so-called server, is a former Marine Corps Major and the Clan’s military C.O. His people are well qualified to actually help you with field-tested advice. And maybe we can pick up some ideas from how you do things as well. We’re all in this boat together; might as well act like it.”
“Well then,” Intercourse said as he raised his glass in a toast, “I think we can come to an arrangement. I’d like to celebrate this moment by sharing one of my granola bars with you, if you’ll join me?”
Cassy smiled, and nodded. That offer, too, spoke volumes about what kind of people these were. They would share food with their friends, and that helped greatly to put her mind at ease. Jaz and Choony really outdid themselves, bringing in this new ally. “Of course, that’s generous of you. But only if you’ll join us for evening chow.” She smiled, visualizing the looks on their faces when they got served B.L.T. sandwiches and fresh cider.
- 4 -
2230 HOURS - ZERO DAY +190
CARL REINED IN his horse as he approached the Liz Town southern gate. It was still damn cold outside but the snow had mostly melted earlier in the day, the first warm day in quite a while. Now everything was starting to freeze, turning everything icy, and the deposed Liz Town envoy was glad he made it back home in one run instead of having to camp outside. To either side of the Liz Town gate, shipping containers were stacked two-high, filled with rubble, and the interior facing had tons of rubble piled up against it; the rest of the walls were made of rubble, but they were slowly reinforcing it with more shipping containers just like at the gates.
He needed sleep, a bath, and food, and in the morning he would need to talk to Pamela. She obviously knew something about why he had been relieved as the Liz Town envoy to Clanholme, judging from her cryptic message she had sent via his replacement. It was cruel irony that even here and now at the end of the world, his damn ex-wife was still around to make his life miserable. And so far, still trying to “win him back.” She should have gotten the hint when the woman Carl had left her for died of dysentery early on. Carl hadn’t truly left Pamela for another woman a year ago—he had just left. The other woman was a symptom, not the cause, but Pamela didn’t seem to understand that.
Carl shouted up to the gatekeepers, “Carl Woburn, Citizen of the Timber Wolf Band, requesting access. I come home with open hands.”
One of the guards shouted down at him, “Liz Town welcomes her wayward Wolf-brother. Why are your open hands empty?”
Carl replied, “Because Liz Town and my Band fill me with all I need.”
Having exchanged the passphrases correctly, Carl heard the flurry of noises from the horses on the other side, harnessed through a pulley to a big-rig truck, which now slid aside to grant him access. He made two clicks with his tongue and nudged his horse forward, and rode into Liz Town; the creak of the gate being closed again echoed behind him.
Before him stretched the Clear Zone, a 100-yard expanse where everything had been torn down to build the town walls, both exterior and the smaller walls that divided the town up into Band Territories. Only the remaining roads were public access, as they wound through all the territories. Timber Wolf turf was on the west side of town, and thus often faced the brunt of raids from Hershey and elsewhere, a fact of which his Band was mighty proud.
Carl wound his way through Diamondback Band turf and on through the narrow gateway into Timber Wolf territory. His home was one room in a very nice house that he shared with other moderately high-ranking Band members. He was high enough that he didn’t have to share a room, an uncommon privilege. Once inside the house, he gathered an MRE, two gallon-jugs of water, and the washbasin, and went to his room. First he ate and drank his fill, then used the remaining water for a cold “bath.” Fresh clothes on, dirty clothes in the trash bag for laundering later, and then just before midnight he collapsed onto his bed in total exhaustion…
…and sat bolt upright, whipping out his pistol from under the bed. But his pistol flew from his hands and landed across the room, and Carl sat in the dark, his mind befuddled by sleep, dumbly trying to figure out what the hell was going on. A soft female voice in the darkness said, “Welcome home, Carl.”
He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. It was pitch black. He snarled, “Pamela? What the hell time is it?”
“Time for you to get your reflexes back. If I had wanted to kill you, I might have actually succeeded tonight.” Pamela sparked her lighter and the small flame was blinding. She lit the storm lantern on his night stand and turned it down low so there was just enough light to see by. “And we need to talk. I told you to come see me when you got back, or did you not get the message?”
Carl replied, “I did get it. But I needed sleep and food before I came to find you.”
“No time, sweetie. We may be divorced but I still care about you. I wouldn’t want to see something awful happen to you.”
That got Carl’s attention and cleared his mind. She wasn’t here to cajole him but to warn him. “I appreciate that. Okay, what was so important that you had to break into my room in the middle of the night?”
“I know you. First thing in the morning you’d head to the Wolf Den to complain to our Alpha about being replaced as the Confed envoy. It’s important for your business interests. But you have been away long enough to miss an important development.”
Carl swung his feet off the bed onto the floor and rested his elbows on his knees. “I’m all ears.”
In the dim light, he saw Pamela purse her lips, faintly shaking her head. “Our Alpha Wolf doesn’t know it, but he’s about to be deposed as both Band leader and Speaker of Liz Town. Diamondback’s leader will replace him. Much of our Band and three others have decided that we need a change—a new Speaker and a new direction—if we’re to save ourselves from what’s coming.”
Carl froze. The hair on the back of his neck st
ood up, and he felt goosebumps along his arms. What the hell was she saying? It made no sense. Things were going well and the other Bands were happy with the Timber Wolf leadership over Liz Town. Or so he had thought. A growing fear lurched in his stomach. “Pamela, I’m not awake enough for riddles. What’s coming, and why are you telling me?”
“The Midwest Republic is coming, Carl, and they’re too powerful to stop. They’ll burn down anyone in their way, including Cassy and her Clan. It’s time to survive, Carl. There are enough of us who see the reality of the situation and if that means a new Speaker, so be it.” Pamela paused but Carl just stared at her. She placed her hand on top of his. “Carl, I want you on my side. You need to know that our people are watching you. If you go to our Band leader, they’ll know, and your life will be in danger. So please, stay in your room until I call for you. I couldn’t bear to lose you a second time.”
Carl’s mind spun, but it was stuck in neutral. The engine revved but his mind went nowhere while Pamela’s words replayed themselves in his mind. Pamela, his ex-wife, his most loyal pack-sister… and she was a traitor. There was no way around it. She was too deeply involved to walk away. He knew she’d only feel guilty later about her treason, and her conspirators would certainly kill him to protect the cabal she had gotten herself involved in. It might put her at risk, too, and they may be divorced but… wait… this meeting was a test as much as an attempt to rescue him. She had put him on the spot just by warning him.
But then the thought struck him that if the cabal held the majority view, they would already have struck. They stayed in the shadows because they weren’t yet coming from a position of strength. If he could just warn the Alpha… But to do that, first he’d have to pass Pamela’s test. Okay, do one step at a time.
Carl smiled at Pamela now taking both of her hands into his own. “You know I still care deeply for you, right? Maybe I fell out of love with you just before the invasion, but that doesn’t mean I stopped caring. Thank you for warning me. I’ve… I have concerns about the Empire as well. I’ve shouted to any who would listen that we need stronger defenses, more people, more guns, if we’re going to stop the Empire. And the Alpha hasn’t listened, not to me and not to anyone else. I can’t say what will happen between you and me, but who can tell the future?” He cocked his head and added, “But at least we do know what’s likely to come at us when it warms up, and it needs to be handled the best way for Liz Town. I’d rather be an ally with them than conquered.”
Dark New World (Book 5): EMP Resurrection Page 6
