Nearest Night

by David VanDyke

  Kemp nodded.

  “Good,” Kanguq said, turning to several of his men. “Start rounding up the prisoners and get them moving west.”

  Two men grabbed Kemp and began to lead him through the wind and snow, almost gently. “I bet you wish you’d stayed down south of the border now, don’t you?” one asked with a wolfish smile.

  Kemp didn’t answer, but he did wish it.

  ***

  ANCHORAGE DAILY NEWS

  VICTORY FOR ALASKAN FORCES IN YUKON

  Yesterday, elements of the 1st Aleutian Brigade, 40th Denali Division, and the 12th Tanana Division defeated the U.S. 10th Mountain Division at the Battle of Haines Junction. Alaskan Forces under the command of General Benjamin Kirst accepted the surrender of the division after numerous subordinate elements were overwhelmed by superior local fighting spirit. Over ten thousand American invaders were reported captured.

  “This is a great day for the New Alaskan Nation,” said President Kanoa at Anchorage earlier this morning. “Let this be remembered as the day Alaskans threw off the yoke of tyranny and subjugation. Also let this serve as a warning to the illegitimate Unionist party in the United Stated that Alaska will not be intimidated by threats of nuclear reprisals as was done with the New Texas Republic.”

  There are unconfirmed reports that the Yukon-based Whitehorse Irregulars fought side by side with Alaskan Forces and were key to cutting supply lines to Haines Junction. The Canadian government vigorously denies any official involvement.

  The U.S. President is expected to address his country this evening during a nationally televised address.

  Chapter 5

  When the inner door to the compound opened, Skull pumped the shotgun, spitting shells from its ejection port until it was empty, and then tossed the weapon at the guard, who nearly dropped it in surprise. Then he turned and walked through the portal.

  On the other side, a tall man dressed in a startlingly clean white suit met him, flanked by two more armed men.

  Skull spoke first. “My name is Alan Denham and I’m here to see Shawna Nightingale. She’s expecting me.”

  “I’m Kondo Ntumbe, head of security here. We would have let you in, Mister Denham. There was no need to injure one of my men.”

  “That’s on you, asshole. If he’s your man, you need to train him better. Besides, I presume he’s an Eden. He’ll heal. Maybe the pain will teach him judgment.”

  The man refused to be baited. “Still, you could have handled that less…brutally.”

  Skull smiled and pointed without looking through the open door behind him, at the guard still cradling the empty shotgun in his arms. “I tell you what. Take your time getting Shawna. I’ll be out here beating the living shit out of your other guard while I wait. You can even watch if that’s what gets you off.” He turned as if to go back.

  “Wait a moment, Mister Denham,” said Ntumbe. “The lady will be here soon.”

  As if on cue, Skull heard a loud female voice, one he recognized from long ago, rich and round with the tones of the American Deep South. “Alan? Is that really you, sugah?”

  A large brown-skinned woman in bright local dress descended from one of the buildings toward him, a smile of relief on her face. “I can’t believe you really came. Come here and give ol’ Shawna a hug.” She enfolded him in her arms. “Oh, thank you. I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

  Skull tensed, and then forced himself to relax and allow the embrace. He patted Shawna’s back awkwardly. He didn’t much like being touched or impeded. It made him feel claustrophobic and threatened. On the rare occasions when he allowed himself the distraction of female companionship, he controlled the situation. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am, and no cuddling afterward.

  Skull wasn’t much of a cuddler.

  Shawna finally stepped back and looked at him with a smile and wet eyes. It always mystified him why any woman became sentimental with him. He didn’t consider himself all that lovable. Maybe, like many he’d known, they saw his scars, his damage, and wanted to fix him.

  Good luck with that.

  “Let’s go inside. I’ll get us some tea,” she said. Turning to the guards around the enclosure, she wagged her finger at them. “I tried to tell you boys that it was only a matter of time before someone came along and taught you manners.”

  Ntumbe bowed with an indulgent smile. Skull resolved to keep an eye on him. He had the confident air of a predator. He wondered what the man had been prior to contracting the Eden Plague, before his society turned against him. A criminal? A military man? A police officer?

  Shawna led Skull inside an open, airy room with cool marble floors. Antique wood furniture occupied strategic locations around the large living room area. The only modern item he saw was a large television running British satellite news, its sound muted.

  “Have a seat. Everyone’s out of coffee. I’ll get us some tea.”

  “Tea’s fine,” Skull answered, walking over to look at Nightingale family photos on the wall. A big man and woman, with genuine, open smiles. A small boy and girl melted into their embrace. A truly happy family...one of the few Skull had seen up close.

  And, he thought, given their skin color, they could blend here much better than he. He wondered if the guards’ attitudes had to do with him being white, or a non-Eden, or something else entirely. So much for the myth that Edens became sudden paragons of virtue. They might gain more balanced mental processes, but prejudices and bigotry masked themselves as rationality, even in Edens.

  “Where’s the kids?” he asked.

  “With their aunties. That’s what the local matrons call themselves. I thought it best we have this conversation without them. They’re too young to understand.”

  Skull nodded and sat across from the television, casually watching the talking heads and reading the scrolling captions. The American collapse at the Battle of Haines Junction had stunned the Unionists and the citizenry. Even though he opposed its newly fascist government, as a former U.S. Marine Skull felt embarrassed for his country’s military.

  Yet, he wasn’t really surprised. Morale was low from the civil war in Texas, and the Unionists were handling the military stupidly, blaming them for not solving the nation’s “Eden problems.” Like many extremists, the Unionists thought any problem could be solved with sufficient application of violence, and that the military should carry out their orders unthinkingly, even without proper support.

  In reality, an elite military such as the U.S. once possessed needed a tremendous expenditure of resources to keep in fighting trim. Loyalty and patriotism only plugged so many gaps before things began to deteriorate, leading to catastrophes such as Haines Junction.

  “Can you believe that?” Shawna asked, nodding at the television as she set down a tray of tea and cookies.

  “Surprising, but not shocking.” Skull took the cup of hot tea she offered. “The Unionists are screwing up. They’re already purging competent people and replacing them with incompetent loyalists. Like Stalin did in the 1930s. Or, since we’re in Africa, like Mugabe did in Rhodesia, like Amin did in Uganda, like –”

  “Funny you should say that,” Shawna gently interrupted, releasing a massive sigh. “Have you heard the latest from the American channels?”

  Skull shook his head.

  “The U.S. President and Vice President both resigned. Evidently the Department of Justice launched an investigation and discovered ‘subversives’ at multiple levels. They’re arresting hundreds, maybe thousands.”

  Skull snorted. “Subversives? That’s an ambiguous term.”

  “It means whatever the Unionists want it to mean. The Speaker of the House is now the acting President until the next elections. He’s a Unionist, of course, and he appointed Layfield as his acting Vice President. Other hardliners are moving up into their slots.”

  “Unionists all, I see.”

  “Of course. They’re also pressing allegations that Canada has been actively assisting the Alaskans.”

  “
Looking for someone to blame,” said Skull, “or maybe just a pretext.”

  “A pretext for what?”

  “Annexation. The Unionists obviously have designs upon all of North America. Maybe more.”

  “You can’t be serious! This is still the United States of America we’re talking about.”

  “Not really. The Edens have become the perfect distraction. Make them into enemies within, enemies without. It’s hard for good people to oppose fascism’s rise when it’s cloaked in patriotism and ‘homeland security.’ And besides, for most of our history, expansion westward was part of our culture. That only went out of style in the second half of the twentieth century, when we gave back a few things like the Philippines and Okinawa. Looks like empire building is making a comeback. Hang on to your cowboy hats and sixguns, and welcome to the new frontier, only this time it’s heading north and south.”

  Shawna shook her head and looked at the television. “Usually I’d say you were too cynical, even a conspiracy nut, but these days…”

  “I know that’s not why you asked me to come here. Tell me about Larry.”

  She sighed and stared at the ceiling for a moment before speaking. “I last talked to him a week ago. He was in the Netherlands, serving as a special attaché to the South African U.N. Representative.”

  “Larry’s no diplomat. What was his real mission?”

  Shawna grimaced. “I tried to talk him out of it. I said it sounded dangerous.”

  “Of course it was dangerous. Otherwise they would have sent someone else.”

  “I don’t know everything, but best I can tell, he was supposed to help Edens trapped in Europe escape.”

  Skull nodded. “Sounds like Markis’ and Cassie’s same old game. I’m sure they put him up to it. Why didn’t you contact them?”

  “I did, but they won’t tell me anything. Besides...”

  “Besides what?”

  Shawna looked at him guiltily. “I’m not supposed to know...it’s classified. It could get Larry in trouble.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Skull said. “There’s not a spec ops man out there who doesn’t tell his wife what he thinks she needs to know, regulations be damned.”

  “He wasn’t really sure who to trust. Because of that report you wrote. The one where there could be bad Edens infiltrating in amongst us. Psychos, people call them.”

  “Ah, yes, that one.”

  “Larry told me to contact you if something went wrong. He showed me how and said I could trust you.”

  Skull sat back on the plush sofa. “Ironically, I’m hearing that a lot lately. This Free Communities of yours isn’t the Eden it was cracked up to be, and rotten ol’ Skull has to save the day again.”

  “I don’t care about any of that,” Shawna snapped. “This whole compound is moving to South Africa in the next few days. It appears we’re no longer welcome here in Congo. That means I have to leave our home, the home I shared with Larry these last years, and go off to set up a new one without him. Without being sure if he’ll ever join me. It may seem like I’m holding it together pretty well, but I’m scared to death right now. I’m about to lose it, Alan.”

  “How do you know Spooky hasn’t already sent in his people to find him?”

  Shawna’s face turned angry. “He hasn’t answered me either. That little sneak wouldn’t lift a finger to help anyone but himself. Larry said he was always that way and the Eden Plague didn’t change that fact.”

  “Larry is deceptively astute about human nature. He comes across as the jolly giant, but he has a way of seeing inside people. Still, I’d have thought Spooky would be helping for straightforward, selfish reasons. Such as, Larry knows a lot. Spooky wouldn’t want him captured and interrogated by the wrong people.”

  “Larry would never talk!”

  “Everybody talks, Shawna. It’s not like in the movies. It’s only a matter of when and how much. Which, as I said, should be motivation enough for Spooky.”

  “’Should be’ isn’t good enough. I never trusted Spooky. I don’t trust Cassandra any more. I trust you. Will you help?”

  He stared at her hard. “Did Larry really tell you to call me for help?”

  She nodded sadly. “A delayed email popped up on my computer from his account, telling me how to reach you, just in case. It’s one of those that has to be cancelled regularly, or it sends. Spy stuff. ”

  “I’m glad he set it up.” Skull rubbed his neck. “I have to tell you, though, I’m not some kind of genie or saint or white knight, to come riding in and save the day. I’m a lot better at punishing people than rescuing them.”

  She frowned at him. “You showed, didn’t you? Besides, he also told me how to get into his FC expense account if you need that kind of motivation. I checked, and there’s more money sitting in there than we’ve seen in our entire lives. It’s yours if you can get him back.”

  “That’s a good start, but I don’t need the money. Happen to have more of it than I can spend myself. And besides, things might not be so bad. He may have gone underground, incommunicado.”

  “He’d have gotten word to me.”

  Skull shrugged, sipping his drink and gazing into the distance.

  “What are we talking about here, then? I need your help. Larry needs your help. What do you need to make it happen?”

  Her question forced him to think, to examine himself. What do I need? What do I need? I had an idea what this was about when I came here. If I wasn’t going to help, why did I even show up?

  It’s a good question nevertheless. Is it friendship? Maybe comradeship is a better term. Brothers in arms don’t abandon each other. Another part is, I need to make those who have taken from me pay...but...the most important reason is...

  “I’ll do it. I need to work anyway,” Skull said suddenly. “This is what I do. I don’t play golf or collect stamps. I do bad things to bad people. I kill people that need killing. It staves off the boredom. And I might as well help friends and hurt enemies in the process.”

  Her smile transformed her face like the rising of the sun as she reached out gratefully to take his hands in hers. Skull abruptly felt good about himself, a rare enough occurrence.

  And then he felt like a total dick when she burst into tears, because odds were, things wouldn’t turn out all right.

  They almost never did.

  Chapter 6

  Cassandra Johnstone sat at her office in the middle of the Free Communities Headquarters compound. Windows looked out on tropical jungle high in the Colombian mountains. She read the report from her agent in place near Shawna Nightingale and smiled slightly.

  It had worked. Skull had accepted the job.

  Cassandra knew Skull was unlikely to help her again after all the times she’d been less than honest with him, so she’d hacked Larry’s account and sent the email in his name, for Shawna to contact Skull.

  She also felt sure Skull was at least a little bit in love with her, and she didn’t want to jeopardize that tiny spark of humanity and connection.

  And now I’m using him again, she thought. Being deceptive instead of asking for his help. Not just with Alan, but with Larry’s wife as well. Do I have no shame left in me?

  “I’m doing what I need to do,” she whispered. She needed a non-Eden to check into this, and frankly she was unsure whom to trust these days. Anybody could be a Unionist infiltrator, even an Eden. Someone who could blend in, but someone unlimited by the virtue effect.

  Psychos, they were called. Terrible threats is how she thought of them, and it disturbed her as a trained intelligence operative that she’d grown complacent, missed the obvious, and had the tables turned on her so easily.

  But Skull wasn’t an Eden. He could at least be relied upon and trusted...to a point. And she thought she knew what that point was.

  She rubbed her face and tried to clear her head. What was done was done and there would be time to tidy up any personal friction burns later.

  Cassandra composed a secure mes
sage to Geoffrey Rayburne, her mole in British Intelligence. She told him Skull would likely be traveling to Europe on Larry’s trail, and to have his people be on the lookout for him and to help him if they could.

  That assuaged her guilt a fraction.

  I’m not a bad person.

  Sometimes the end did justify the means.

  A knock came on the door and Cassandra’s secretary stuck her head in. “Ma’am, you asked Sergeant Repeth to come by?”

  “Yes, please send her in.”

  The athletic woman they called Reaper entered, measuring Cassandra up and down before looking around the room.

  Cassandra had spent a lifetime as a CIA operative in the business of manipulating people. All types of strong personalities. Leaders, nerds, warriors, politicians, criminals, saints, beauties, and monsters. Working with them had been a tough job, a necessary evil and she’d done it well, making them believe she was on their side and in some cases letting them think they were using her.

  But this woman was one of the few who made her feel uneasy. An element of danger and violence lurked just below the surface, and a refusal to be manipulated beyond a certain point.

  Like Skull, a small voice said in her head and she pushed the thought away. And Spooky. They all remind me of myself.

  Cassandra realized that an awkward silence hung in the air. She stood quickly and stuck out her hand, shaking Reaper’s. “Sorry. Haven’t had my coffee this morning. Thank you for coming. Please take a seat.”

  Reaper sat, looking at her watch. “I’ve only got a few minutes before I have to get back.”

  “How’s that going, by the way?”

  “Good,” answered Reaper with a false smile. “If you’re asking me if I’m happy serving as Daniel Markis’ personal security detail chief, I am. If you’re asking me if I miss working for Spooky doing his dirty work, I don’t.”