Michael’s lip curled into a snarl. Calming himself, he said, “If the Predators aren’t on their way already, we can never risk using these damn things. Not here. But they may already be en route to eliminate us—and you.”
Ethan shook his head emphatically, eyes wide. “No, no, that’s not true. If they were going to shove a Hellfire missile up our asses—they would have gotten here already. You’ve been back a little while, and they would have struck as soon as they had confirmation of your destination with the wagons.”
“True. So either Houle knows and doesn’t care, or doesn’t know and mustn’t find out.”
Ethan took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling the tension drain away. “So we must operate under the assumption that they don’t know we seized their shipment. Using the drones could reveal both their location and the Clan’s involvement in their theft.”
Michael clenched his jaw, but nodded. “Fine. Please put the drones somewhere safe. I don’t want some kid, or yahoo, turning one of them on and giving us away.”
“We have plenty of room in the bunker’s storage wing to put these things since we’ve gone through most of Cassy’s original cache of food items over the winter. Why not just burn the drones, though?”
Michael shrugged and raised his hands out from his sides, palms facing up. “Just because we can’t use them now doesn’t mean we won’t wish we had them down the road if things turn ugly with the Mountain. Or with Ree.”
That was a good point. If the Confederation ever came to blows with General Houle and his troops from their mountain base, those drones could prove useful. “Hope for the best, plan for the worst,” he muttered, nodding.
“Exactly,” Michael said. “And since it appears, at least, that General Houle was sending these to the invaders in New Jersey and New York, it seems he’s the traitor. Good to know that for sure. We’ll probably end up at war with him, too.”
“Especially after we kick in his Empire lackeys’ teeth.”
“If…” said Michael sternly. “If we kick their teeth in. It’s far from guaranteed.”
Ethan furrowed his brow. “Damn. You know how to rain on a parade.”
- 21 -
0915 HOURS - ZERO DAY +254
CARL STARED OUT the front windows. They were huge, stretching almost from floor to ceiling, and had a great view of both the mansion’s ornate front yard and the overgrown alleyway next to it. His mind wandered back to thoughts of his old Alpha. He remembered crawling through that very patch of brambles in the alley to come here, climbing to the Alpha’s bedroom on the second floor in a vain attempt to warn him about Pamela’s plot. Now Carl was effectively the Alpha, and it was his mansion since the Timber Wolves had overwhelmingly named him Alpha in the same election that would soon make Mary Ann the Liz Town speaker. How odd were the twists and turns that life put before him…
“Well,” said his new bodyguard, “You sure did luck out. If the raid on the Interim Speaker and your ex-wife hadn’t turned up so much dirt on them both, you might not have been elected Alpha of the Timber Wolves Band.”
Carl shook his head faintly. The man had it all wrong, but Carl couldn’t blame him. Things had been so chaotic for the last few days that all sorts of rumors had spread. “No, the truth is, we knew they were dirty. That’s why we did the raid. Without it—without putting the Diamondback leader and Pamela in shackles and making him sign the papers—they never would have allowed an election until it was too late to organize resistance.”
“They wanted us to join the Empire, I heard,” the man said.
Carl had forgotten his name already. He’d have to fix that. “That part’s correct, unfortunately. The way they played on old pack rivalries to keep the packs at each other’s throats…” He shook his head. “What’s your name again? I’m sorry, but I’m having a hard time remembering everyone. It’s been chaos trying to get things back in order.”
His guard nodded. “My name’s—”
He was cut off by the sound of air horns. First one, then another and another, raising the alarm all down the line on the north wall. A chill ran down his spine like a bullet. That many horns… They only blew when the watch saw an enemy. Then it was all hands to the walls. More raiders? Again?
“Let’s go,” Carl said. He jumped from his chair and grabbed his leather jacket—now the proper Timber Wolf red—and his M16.
He didn’t wait for his guard, instead running outside to hop onto his mountain bike. It was a tool he had been slowly acquiring for all his warriors and their leaders, and he noted many others rushing out to their assigned positions as he rode hard for the wall. He reached the closest tower and hopped off his bike, letting it fall carelessly to the pavement, and climbed up the ladder as fast as he could. When he reached the top, one of the sentries reached down for his hand and helped him up to the ledge. He crouched to avoid exposing himself to anyone outside the wall.
Carl snapped, “Status report, sentry.”
“Alpha,” the man exclaimed, surprised. “You shouldn’t be on the wall. It’s danger—”
“Status report now dammit.” If this guy didn’t start to talk in three frikking seconds, Carl was going to throw him off the wall himself.
“Yes, sir. We have well over a company of bike-mounted people armed with rifles, some two hundred yards out. They’re dispersed behind cover throughout the wildlands and appear to be waiting for something.”
“Waiting?” Carl thought a moment. “It’s a parley. They wouldn’t have exposed themselves before an attack like this, unless they were here to talk first.”
“They’ve made no move yet, sir.”
Carl rose up enough to peer over the wall’s protective ridge, formed much like a battlement but without the crenellations. Outside, he saw the wildlanders huddled behind cover near the wall, their backs to the Liz Town defenders, facing the new threat together not as pack mates but as welcome allies. Beyond them he saw the long stretch of empty space maintained by Liz Town for defense, and his eyes paused there briefly but he didn’t see movement. Farther out, he saw a long line of armed men and women, mostly behind cover and definitely facing the town. Behind them lay their bikes and their packs, ready for a quick advance or retreat, as needed. Empire. Damn.
“Nothing to do but wait, I guess,” Carl said to his bodyguard, who had finally caught up.
“Yes, sir.”
Carl looked to the wall sentry he had spoken to before. “Any word on our new client Band?”
“What, the wildlanders you brought in?”
Carl frowned. “Do you know of another new client Band?”
“The Sewer Rats are on the wall a bit east, toward the Diamondback barrier. The new Interim Speaker said it would be best to keep Timber Wolves and Diamondbacks from getting too close for a while.”
“Good idea.”
Two figures on bikes separated from the line of trespassing fighters deep in the wildlands and slowly made their way toward the Liz Town wall.
“Parley it is, then,” Carl muttered. “Go tell the speaker that she shouldn’t risk herself. As her aide, I’ll go talk.”
The sentry nodded and left, going as fast as he could without falling off the catwalk. Carl set his rifle down and said to the wall defenders near him, “Keep aim on them while I’m out there. If anything goes wrong, make sure they die, got it?”
“Yes, Alpha,” several said in unison, and then they propped their rifles on the wall for stability, taking aim.
Carl climbed back down, walked to the small gate nearby, and waited while the half-inch steel plate was slid out of the way. He walked through the gate and heard the gate slide closed behind him. Okay, then. Squaring his shoulders, he walked away from the wall, toward the two oncoming bike riders. They came together about fifty yards from the wall—easy sniping distance for his Timber Wolves. When the two cyclists stopped, Carl stopped as well, and stood silently facing them.
Finally, one said, “I am Captain Samuel Pease of the Midwest Republic
. I ought to kill you all for letting the Clan ambush us the last time I came through here, but thankfully, two troopers were volunteered to get shot while I escaped.” He pointed to the man beside him and said, “This is my senior NCO, here as a witness to what we say. And you are?”
The man had an aura that Carl didn’t like. Creepy. Evil, even. But the man beside him, his NCO, was worse. Carl felt a chill down his spine when he looked at the two. If this is who the Empire sent to negotiate, Liz Town was in for rough days ahead. “I’m the Alpha of the Timber Wolves Band, Liz Town. You can call me Carl. Now then—why are you on our land?”
Samuel grinned, but Carl felt it only hid the fangs of a viper about to strike. There was no friendliness in him. He replied, “Actually, the land belongs to certain individuals in accordance with deeds on record. Until next-of-kin can be worked out, they are administered by the prevailing governmental jurisdiction…”
“What government?”
“… which, in accordance with the terms of the declaration of Martial Law…”
“Declared by whom?”
“… is for the moment the United States federal government…”
“Show me a government.”
“… as administered by the Commander-in-Chief…”
“Under what authority?”
“… who has allocated authority to the Midwest Republic…”
“Who? Show me Constitutional authority for that.”
“… and we’re here to enforce his lawful orders.”
“Who says they’re lawful?” Carl struggled to keep his temper under control and to appear calm. “Sounds like an asshole’s power-grab to me.”
Samuel shrugged, and a clearly mocking, pained expression crossed his face. “I’m so sorry there is some confusion on your end, but it’s really quite simple. We’re under Martial Law, and you must comply.”
Carl clenched his jaw, then said, “And if we don’t recognize your banana republic false authority?”
“Then, as much as it pains me and my commanding officer,” Samuel said as a more vicious grin spread over his face, “we’d have to respond under the rules of Martial Law as pertains to high treason during time of war.”
Carl froze. This bastard just threatened to kill everyone who resisted. It wasn’t a subtle threat, either. “Interesting. However, I don’t think a self-elected Commander-in-Chief qualifies as one who can issue lawful orders on any level, much less federal.”
Samuel looked up into the sky for a moment, and for all the world he appeared to just be relishing the sunshine for a moment. Still looking up, he said, “Actually, all verified surviving members of the House of Representatives, who are enjoying the hospitality and protection of General Houle in Colorado, voted to make him the C-in-C for the duration of this crisis. It’s legit. And your C-in-C demands you surrender all your horses and provide other material assistance, however much our commanding officer deems necessary for the success of our mission of peace.”
“Huh. You got two-thirds of Congress and Senate out alive, did you? Because if you didn’t, then it’s not legit. The Constitution is clear on that. So it’s a banana republic coup.”
Samuel shrugged. “Not me, and I don’t know the numbers. The U.S. Army under Houle got the authorizing members of Congress out alive, however many were left anyway. He has assured the Republic that it’s legitimate. So I say, open your gates and submit or be treated as traitors. With all that entails, of course.”
Carl forced his shoulders to relax, stood tall, and tried to look confident. It was hard, given that he didn’t know what forces the Empire had brought with them. “From what you say, a coup has occurred. That makes Houle and you the traitors. I think we’ll stick with protecting the Constitution from all enemies, foreign and domestic. That would be you, by the way. But I will bring your message and threats to the other Bands. Fair warning, though—our Bands weeded out the cowards a long time ago. I doubt our warriors will submit easily.”
“Please recognize that I have legal orders to obtain your assistance and access to your resources by any necessary means,” Samuel delivered as an obviously memorized speech. “In a violent confrontation, I will not have close control over my troops, nor would I try to rein them in should it become a clear case of treason. I urge you to become our peaceful allies and enjoy the full protection of the Midwest Republic, the duly authorized regional body of the United States Government-in-exile.” He paused, winked salaciously and added, “I hope you have some attractive women left, because my troops will need R-and-R after the battle.”
Carl bared his teeth in a wolf-like grin. “I will enjoy killing you myself, when you return, Captain Samuel Pease. See you later, then. And best of luck getting into Liz Town uninvited. You’ll need it.” He spun on his heels and strode back toward the gate into Liz Town.
From behind him, he heard the enemy captain shout, “Maybe not today, Alpha Carl, but I look forward to seeing you again real soon. If you’re married, make sure she wears makeup, okay? I like my toys kept in good condition.”
Carl reached the gate and couldn’t get inside fast enough. Son of a bitch… He swore to himself that if he could, he’d be the one to kill that Empire captain when they came back for a fight. And of course they would attack, eventually. Thank God he had stopped Pamela’s coup in time—she’d have thrown the gates wide open for those monsters.
Carl climbed back up on the wall and walked along it toward Kodiak territory. He soon found Mary Ann, leaning against one of the defensive towers spotted all along Kodiak territory. Carl disagreed with the Kodiaks’ love of towers for active defense in addition to posting watches. He couldn’t know for sure, but he suspected towers couldn’t stop an RPG or a satchel full of dynamite, and making so many of them must have cost a ton of man-hours.
“Good morning, Speaker,” Carl said, and tipped his ballcap to her.
“Interim Speaker, please. At least until it’s official.”
Carl gave a quick nod. “As you wish.”
“So, what have you found out, Carl?”
Carl ignored her informality and said, “I need the Liz Town cavalry. We need to strike the Empire as their troops move out. I don’t know where they’re going, but they’ll be stretched out and their supplies vulnerable. We want them damaged when they come back in force.”
Mary Ann shook her head. “No can do. Sorry, Carl. I’m not going to basically declare war on the Midwest Republic before our last votes are tallied and I’m no longer merely the Interim Speaker. We need to be stable when this hits.”
Carl kept his expression carefully neutral, but his irritation rang clear in his voice when he replied, “Dammit, Mary Ann, we have the perfect chance to hurt them. Right now, in the beginning of this war. We can’t ignore this opportunity.”
“Carl, if we don’t follow our own damn laws, what would we even be fighting for? That’d make me a dictator, and even if the people approved of going to war, and of me, it would still be the end of a free Liz Town. What if the next speaker isn’t as dedicated as I am? I’d have set a precedent for abuse of power. I won’t do that.”
“But—”
“No,” Mary Ann repeated. “Have you already forgotten the abuses of our own government before the EMPs? Not again! We do it right, or there’s no point to doing it at all—we might as well surrender and save a ton of lives, because what’s the difference between one dictator and another? We don’t strike until I’m officially the Speaker of Liz Town and can bring all of our Bands into the decision. I’ll start that process as soon as we can stand down from the wall. Only then will we go to war.”
Carl clenched his fists to his sides, and looked away from Mary Ann’s gaze. “Okay. I only hope that, by tomorrow, there’s still a Confederation to fight for. Where do you think this rump battalion is headed, the mall?”
He turned and strode away. At least he could spend this time getting his own warriors primed for taking the leash off tomorrow. The Timber Wolves would waste no time, once
that leash was off. He hoped Mary Ann would include Sunshine’s group in the vote.
* * *
The old air raid siren in the guard tower blared, startling Cassy badly enough to drop her fork. Then Ethan’s frantic voice blared from the PA system they had rigged up. “Code three! To arms! All units to defensive positions. This is not a drill! Charlie One to position.”
Cassy leapt from her seat and darted toward her house to get her rifle and get into position, dodging dozens of other Clanners who were doing the same. As she ran through the front door, she sprinted to the loft, with its excellent views and command station.
While taking the stairs two at a time, she pulled out her handheld radio and clicked on. She didn’t bother with passwords, and shouted, “Ethan, it’s Cassy. Code three! What you got for us?”
She almost slid into the wall as she crossed her loft and made it to the north-facing window, and raised her rifle to peer through the scope. She scanned past the tower to the horizon, but saw nothing yet.
Her handheld crackled, and Ethan said, “Scouts reporting in… Enemy sighted near Mastersonville, confirmed Empire. Approx one-two-zero enemy, mixed foot and bikes. Armed with rifles, mostly civilian. I’ve alerted Michael, and he’s gathering our forces at the north food forest.”
Cassy cursed under her breath. A company of troops, probably one platoon on bikes—those would be their elites—and two afoot. Mastersonville was maybe two-and-a-half hours away. “What’s their bearing, and are they on the move?” she asked.
“Bearing west northwest, but not moving. Not encamped, either.”
They’d miss Taj Mahal. “Alert the Confeds, 9-1-1.”
“Copy.” There was a brief silence, then Ethan said, “Done. Scouts are being scrambled. Also, I… Standby.”
Cassy looked through her scope again, but couldn’t see Michael and the troops gathering yet. She probably wouldn’t for another few minutes.
Dark New World (Book 5): EMP Resurrection Page 28
