From there he made his way down into the bunker. After chow, he usually spent a couple hours both on HAMnet and on the HAM radio to talk to whoever happened to be on. It was also when he’d receive routine orders and info from the 20s, that secretive group that he once thought were freedom fighters but had since realized they almost certainly worked directly for General Houle. Self-proclaimed Commander-in-Chief of the USA “for the duration of the crisis,” hidden deep inside a mountain fortress in Colorado and seizing power. Houle was a bastard, for sure.
When he had used Ethan to hack systems to launch an EMP counter-strike over the U.S. to level the playing field against the invaders, eliminating the advantage they got from having the only planes in the sky, the only tanks in the field, Ethan had also unwittingly launched EMPs over almost every corner of the globe. He had used Ethan to plunge the world into darkness, sentencing billions to starvation and death. Together they had ended the world to save the U.S., and he’d never forgive that bastard for it. Or stop having nightmares.
But the Mountain knew where Clanholme was, so he had to walk a fine line with them, at least appearing to obey orders. Look like a good trooper. He had already caught them testing him once.
Reaching the bunker, he glanced at his U.S. wall map full of pushpins and flags, and made a mental note to update it tomorrow. He had a few new bits of intel to add to it. Then he booted his laptop. After loading his virtual machine, an operating system within a system, and connecting to a chain of VPNs that were still up and running for the moment, he connected to the internet at large. These days it was much smaller than it had been…
As expected, within moments several musical dings announced messages and emails. The first was from Taggart, via the backdoor they had arranged by going through some old, poorly-secured satellites. He was sending troops! That was fantastic and he’d have to let Cassy know during the morning meeting. It was a journey of 150 miles, roughly, and would take four or five days on foot. One person could conceivably make the journey in three days, but larger formations took longer, had to worry about setting up defenses before encamping for the night, deal with sprained ankles, and a million other things that would slow them down.
Then his HAM crackled—it was his buddy in Florida, who had nothing good to report. His faction had a hold of southwest Orlando and had taken over two smaller groups that joined them rather than fight them, but they were losing some ground elsewhere to aggressive neighbors. The whole situation reminded him very much of post-Yugoslavia Bosnia. Hopefully it wouldn’t drag on for years, but the world moved slower now that the cars and planes were lawn ornaments and metal parts.
Then an encrypted message came through from Watcher One. Whoever it was, they had started out pretending to be just another survivor, but it had since come to light that he was Ethan’s handler for the 20s. Or rather, Dark Ryder’s handler, that being Ethan’s hacker name. Ethan loaded the message file into a sandbox, a virtual environment that would contain any virus or malware that hitched a ride on the message. He loaded up Cipher P1776 and decrypted the file. It turned out to be only a text file, however, so all the precautions had been unnecessary. Oh well, better safe than sorry. He opened the file.
To: Dark Ryder
From: Watcher One
February 16
Priority: Beta
Dark Ryder:
Be advised there is a new paramilitary group active within your operations area. Intel suggests they are called Night Ghosts. Approx. 35 combatants, horse mobile, armed with AK-47s and misc civilian weapons. They are functioning as a guerrilla force, but have recently begun to target other small survivor groups as well as invader forces.
This unit has the capacity to become a destabilizing force in your region. Therefore, several UAVs have been allocated for the purpose of eliminating this force. To be effective, however, the target must first be located.
You are tasked with using available resources to locate the Night Ghosts forces, and you will then relay coordinates through me for the UAVs to engage target.
Although this has been allocated a priority of Beta (high, non-essential), please consider this to be an urgent mission. The Night Ghosts must be stopped before they eliminate additional survivor elements.
END
Ethan scratched his head. So they had found out about Nestor and his Night Ghosts, but didn’t know they were operating with Clan approval. They either didn’t know the “survivor elements” the Night Ghosts destroyed were traitors for the Empire, or they did know.
The latter option was more likely and it sent a chill down his spine. If the 20s knew, then the General knew, and that would be confirmation that the Empire was working for General Houle. But if they didn’t know those victims were working for the Empire, then that would disprove his theory that they were working together, the Empire and the Mountain.
Did the 20s know about the spies the Empire planted, or did they not? It was maddening not to have the answer to that critical question.
Either way, there was no way he could obey this order. He’d have to make it look like he was, and the Mountain had satellites over his area. That meant wasting manpower on sending scouts out on wild goose chases. Dammit.
Then an idea struck him. What if he gave them the coordinates of a survivor group that was working for the Empire? Finding one of those might be hard, but maybe not impossible. And if the UAVs took out that group, then he’d know the Mountain wasn’t aware they were Empire assets. It wouldn’t rule out Mountain-Empire collaboration, but it would at least keep the question open. On the other hand, if they didn’t take out the target, then they did know the target was an Empire asset. It would change the whole game.
So the Clan’s scouts had to find some survivors who were working for the Empire, and Ethan knew just the person to get that job done. Nestor himself, with his Night Ghosts, were in the best position to find the right target for this. He’d only have to convince Nestor not to just kill them…
Ethan took out a piece of paper and a pen, and began to write a letter to Nestor. He’d have to figure out how to get it to him, but that was a problem for tomorrow.
* * *
It was still plenty warm when Joe got his chow. Biscuits and gravy, which suited him just fine. He skipped the apple cider. Enough was enough. It would have been mighty fine if Cassy had thought to make some other drinks, too, when she set up the farm. Next year would be great, though. His mouth watered to think of all the berries and fruits on the farm that would be harvested next year. Until then… water and cider. He never got tired of water, at least.
Looking around, Joe spotted the Empire envoys, Oscar and Jason, sitting at one “table,” a rock a little away from everyone else. Looked like they weren’t much welcome among the Clanners.
He put on a smile and walked over. “Howdy. Y’all mind if I sit with you?”
Oscar looked up at Joe and nodded. “Certainly. We’re always happy to enjoy a meal with someone from the Clan. It’s why we’re here, after all.”
“Y’all are here to eat our food with us?” Joe smiled, putting his best good ol’ boy spin on it.
Oscar laughed and said, “No, of course not. We brought our own food, but the Clan’s hospitality over the past month has been most welcome. I am told that biscuits and gravy is a rare treat right now, and so far it’s been mostly stew.”
“Yeah,” Joe replied, “stew is the best way to get all them nutrients out of it, you know.”
Oscar nodded somberly. “We eat too much of it back home, too. So how are you this fine day?”
Joe looked over both shoulders and when he saw no Clanners were around, he leaned forward, hunching over his chow like he was eating. Instead of shoveling grub into his mouth, he said, “Y’all know I’m not originally Clan, right?”
“Yes. You were part of the White Stag people, weren’t you?”
Joe took a small bite and ate it quickly. Then he said, “True. Survival, you know? But don’t be fooled. The Clan has big plans
, bigger’n what they tell me or you about, but it’s a small place. Thin walls. A fellow hears things.”
Oscar shrugged. “We’ve been here a month, and haven’t heard anything about that.” He put his elbows on the rock and fiddled with his food. Joe saw him surreptitiously glance around, then they locked eyes. “I wouldn’t want you to betray a confidence,” Oscar said. “The Midwest Republic isn’t here to spy.”
“Of course not. But I reckon y’all wouldn’t turn down news that might help decide how close an ally y’all want to be. Am I wrong about that?”
Oscar stared at Joe for a long moment, but then seemed to come to a decision. He shook his head. “No, you aren’t wrong. Anything you care to share that might help our superiors make informed decisions is welcome, of course.”
Joe picked up a piece of bread and, elbows on the rock, held the bit of biscuit near his mouth as though eating. He smiled. “Of course. Well, seems the Clan got themselves a secret stash. They found rocket launchers, buried in that there PVC piping. Big ol’ stash of ammo. And radios, working ones. The kind y’all hook up to cars, and the ones folks carry in satchels, got them a couple miles in range to transmit. I hear folks tell they got encryption. Ain’t nobody can bust through that, not without big computers or what have you. Got it all stashed away from pryin’ eyes.”
Joe then went quiet and focused on his food. He took his time eating and felt like a cat playing with its prey. Let them make the next move, he figured, while he enjoyed them biscuits.
Finally, the other one, Jason, said, “That’s mighty interesting, Joe. Why would you tell me this? I’m not sure I understand your motivation. Is this a warning or a carrot for alliance?”
Joe glanced up, then looked back at his wooden trencher. “I told y’all, I joined the Clan out of survival. But they killed my friends, and I ain’t got no loyalty to that. I want out, but I got nowhere to go. If I tell you where the Clan done hid this gear, y’all gotta promise me you’ll take me with you back to the Republic and set me up. I ain’t afraid of hard work, and I can work good. I just need me a grubstake to get set up, and a way out of here.”
Jason stared at him, then said, “That’s it? Nothing else? That seems like a small thing to ask for such big news.”
Joe shrugged. “I don’t want these here Clanners to get bushwhacked, but I ain’t exactly puttin’ my neck out for ’em either. A way out, a way to start over—that’s all I want. Every time I look at these folks, all I can see is my friends’ faces when they done got strung up, after the Clan tore free again.”
“I see. That’s an interesting proposition. I’m not saying we will or won’t take you with us, Joe, but if you could tell us whereabouts you think this supposed cache is, and we confirm it, then when we leave, I’ll take you with us. If—and only if—the cache turns out to be the real deal.”
Joe nodded. “Fair ’nuff. Tonight, after chow, there ain’t no one out there. Y’all head north ’bout a mile as the crow flies, there’s a big ol’ bundle of trees growing. It’s like a little forest, old and dense, but it ain’t that big. It’s near the trail outta here, and it’s the only one, so I reckon you can’t miss it. The stuff is all dug up, and they covered ’em with tarps. Easy as pie to find. Take a gander, then take me with you.”
Oscar leaned close to Jason and whispered in his ear for a moment, and then Jason nodded. He looked at Joe and said, “We hear you aren’t exactly on the inner circle. You’re on the Council so you can keep the other White Stag survivors in line, but otherwise they don’t much lean on you for anything important. You’re the outsider, even after saving their skins. How’s that ring?”
“It rings true,” Joe said with one small nod, and looked at his plate. “They don’t trust ol’ Joe Ellings, so I can’t hardly trust them.”
Oscar smiled. “Joe, if what you say is true, Jason and I will bring you with us. We’ll set you up somewhere nice. And we’ll set up people under you—you’ll never be the outsider again. You’ll be in charge, where you belong. A man who sees opportunities shouldn’t be squandered like this.”
Joe nodded, and put a sad expression on his face. “Yessir. I feel the same. I don’t like turning on these here folks, they spared us White Stag that joined ’em, but I reckon this is a small thing. You treat me better’n what they done, I’ll prove my worth to y’all.”
Oscar said, “That’s good to know. I’ll tell you what… Why don’t you lead us there? I’d feel a lot safer wandering around Clan territory if we were accompanied by a council member.”
“I’m not sure I could get away without being noticed,” Joe said, “but y’all can find it easy.”
Jason shook his head but wore a polite smile on his face. “No. If you want to earn your place, be at the north food forest at nine o’clock.”
Joe nodded, and his thoughts ran amok, wondering if he was doing the right thing. Michael had seemed so certain, though, and the man knew things Joe didn’t. Well, the thing was done. No use fretting about it now. He’d show up and lead them to the copse of trees, and the chips would fall where they wanted to.
- 7 -
2100 HOURS - ZERO DAY +195
JOE ARRIVED AT the northern food forest, and it took only a couple minutes to find the envoys, Oscar and Jason, both armed with hunting rifles. They must have had those stashed. It didn’t matter, though. They shook hands, said greetings, and headed north.
Joe led them on a cautious path that kept the faint track just barely in view. Soon, the tiny forest could be seen in the distance. Joe nudged the envoy and pointed. They didn’t speak, however. They just kept walking. Soon, the copse grew larger, and they were almost there.
Oscar whispered, “Joe, keep close when we go in. If anyone’s there, it’s better if they see you—I don’t want anyone inside to shoot us.”
Joe nodded. He felt a chill down his spine. There were Marines in those woods, but he reckoned they wouldn’t shoot him. They were good enough to tell the difference. He hoped they were. “Let’s go.”
They walked in the deepening gloom of the woods. The thing was only about five acres, total, but it was fairly old, a mature forest. Lots of underbrush to get through, but the Clan had hacked a number of decent trails throughout the place. Joe led them along one such path. Almost halfway through the woods, Joe saw ahead a number of mounds with tarps staked out over them.
“There they are,” he said. “Rockets and radios. I reckon you’ll want to lay eyes on ’em.”
Jason nodded and turned to his assistant. “Pull back that tarp there,” he said, pointing to the nearest pile. The group moved closer, and Oscar approached the covered mound. He bent over, took a hold of the tarp, and yanked.
In the next moment, a crossbow bolt pierced the man’s back, where his neck joined the rest of his spine. The tip protruded from the front of his neck. He gasped, a bubbling, wet sound.
At the same time, there was a sudden flurry of movement all around them. In the gloom, Joe had a hard time seeing what was going on. It was as though parts of the forest just came alive and attacked Oscar. His cries were quickly silenced. Jason turned to flee, but ran right into one of the living, moving pieces of forest. He stopped abruptly, a surprised look on his face, and looked down toward his belly. Something glinted there briefly, and he toppled over, moaning. Then there was silence.
A second later, the living pieces of forest called out, “Clear,” one after the other.
Then one approached Joe and, though he knew it was foolish, he felt a primordial fear racing through him. His mind told him these were just Marines in ghillie suits, but the ancient, lizard part of his brain saw monsters.
The monster pulled its hood back, revealing Michael’s face. Joe felt a tingling in his fingers as the adrenaline subsided. “Joe, you’ve done well.”
Michael patted Joe on the arm.
Joe nodded. “We had to get her done,” he said, wiping the sweat from the back of his neck. He glanced at the tarp, now pulled back on one corner. Beneath it was
only a pile of leaves and branches, of course. “They were spies, like you said.”
Michael grimaced, lips tight. “Of course they were. But no more.” He turned to one of the other monsters and said, “Sturm! You go ransack their gear. Any intel, anything unusual, you bring it to me, okay? Go now.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” She let her ghillie suit slide off of her, stepped out of it, and headed south at a jog.
Joe watched her leave, and stared after her for a moment. “Michael, y’all have ice for blood. You scare me. I’m glad you’re on our side.”
Michael didn’t smile. He only nodded and said, “Training. We fall back on our training.”
Joe looked at Michael and said, “Still glad we’re in this together, Michael. If you don’t mind, I need a drink. I’ll see you later.”
Michael nodded, patted him on the shoulder again, and then turned away, ordering the remaining Marines to break out their shovels.
Joe turned and trudged back to Clanholme, thinking about that sweet, hard apple cider every step of the way.
* * *
In the morning, Cassy fumbled her way through the chow line with the rest of the Clan, eyes still puffy. She prayed today was a coffee day—the Clan had only a little, and it wouldn’t last forever, so it was rationed. She looked down the line and saw the rocket stove on which the half-dozen percolators were set. The stove wasn’t lit. She let out a sigh, disappointed, and forced herself to smile when it was her turn to receive breakfast. More constant stew, but with a side of fresh-baked bread. At least they had bread. And it tasted way better than the pre-sliced loaves from before the invasion.
She looked around, scanning the room for a seat, and noticed that the Empire’s spies—the “envoys” they’d sent—weren’t there. For the first time in the month they’d been here, they weren’t sitting to the side by themselves. She looked around and saw they weren’t at any other table, either. She felt a bit of worry worm its way into her mind.
Dark New World (Book 5): EMP Resurrection Page 10
