Today though, the Saudi Royals appeared on the verge of removing the last of his authority from him, and the Great Consulate could not help but wonder if his personal assistant had played an integral part in that process. The data on the wall sized imaging screen made clear the plan. There would be a vote next month to afford him the honorary title of Great Consulate Emeritus. Fucking Saudi bastards. He gave them the world, and they would now in return, take it all from him.
He knew of the rumors. The whispers within this very building that his mental capacities had diminished. That he had gone mad.
“Who are they to even attempt to understand a god?”
The voice was right of course. It so often was. The Great Consulate was beyond anything the simplistic humans could understand. As he had believed for so long, it was his great privilege and purpose to take care of the billions who were simply unable to do so for themselves. Such privilege demanded the fundamental transformation of what was then, the old United States, and eventually, the entire world. But now all those who he had helped, all those who continued to live in the safety and security of his drone protected world, would have their benefactor removed from them by the fucking Saudi animals. Look at their words. Their betrayal. Their foolish and preposterous arrogance!
By order of the New United Nations Consulate Majority, we do hereby approve the honorary title of Great Consulate Emeritus effective thirty days from this notice.
The notice had arrived today. The Great Consulate had spent the last two hours reading it and re-reading it. A pile of burnt ash had collected at his feet from the nearly thirty cigarettes he had smoked while doing so.
“Their fear is making them foolish. They blame you for what happened in Dominatus and Alaska, and what is now happening in Texas and elsewhere throughout the former states. You must kill the Dominatus survivors. Kill them before they reach wherever they are going. Prove to the Consulate that you are still capable of decisive and effective action!”
The Great Consulate shouted back at the voice, reminding it he had already attempted to do so.
“I am trying to kill them! You know that! They keep getting away! And the Muslims are already complaining of the drones, so it is up to my seekers now to do what the drones cannot! I’m doing what can be done! Stop telling me what I already know!”
The voice was silent. The Great Consulate felt panic tighten what muscle was left around his wasted, sunken chest. What if the voice, like the Saudis and his assistant, was to betray him too? What if he was finally left truly alone? What if they came for him? Would they do that? Perhaps they have already decided on it – found him, after so many years of service, to be expendable? Or just as likely, they all feared his power. His divinity over them.
“I will not betray you. Not ever. We must trust each other, you and I.”
The Great Consulate fell to his knees as each of his hands flew to the sides of his head.
“Tell me what to do! What must I do?”
The voice did not respond as the Great Consulate’s words echoed against the walls of his residence.
“Tell me! Tell me!”
The voice’s reply whispered within the Great Consulate’s mind with calm assurance.
“Kill them. All of them. Every single pathetic creature. Make this world in your own image, as any god should rightfully do. Release the fire, the ones you hid away all those years ago. You have the codes. They remain active. Do what only you can do. Destroy every living thing that is no longer worthy of you. Embrace and use the power of the god you are and have always been.”
The Great Consulate wept, so grateful he was of the voice’s advice. Everything would be fine now, and everyone who ever opposed him would be dealt their deserved punishment. His eyes looked over to the hallway that would lead to his killing room. He needed some time in there with his child seeker. He deserved that time. He wouldn’t kill it today. Not just yet. But he would hurt it, and that hurt would feel so very good to him. And after the time in his killing room, which always helped to relax and clear his mind, he would turn his attention back to those Dominatus devils. While the Great Consulate intended to destroy everyone and everything in this world – he very much wanted to make certain to bring that destruction to them first.
XXI.
The “almost road” finally transformed into a real road. Though broken and cracked in parts from decades without being maintained, it was a real road nevertheless, and everyone inside of Imran’s transport vehicle were grateful to now be traveling upon it.
Imran’s ever present smile remained, as he nudged Dublin to look down at the speedometer.
“Doing almost sixty miles an hour now! Very good time! Very fast!”
Bear shifted in his seat, his right hand rubbing his left shoulder.
“Hey, Imran, you wouldn’t happen to have something for pain would you? This shoulder is killing me. Don’t think lifting the back of this truck up did it any good.”
Without taking his eyes off the road, Imran motioned for Bear to look under the seat.
“Inside the red box. Under where Dublin is sitting. Bottle of Ibuprofen. Take as many as you want.”
Dublin reached down under her seat and removed the small red box Imran referred to. She opened it up and found the Ibuprofen.
“How many of these you want, Bear?”
“Give me five of them, Dublin. Five now, and another five in a few hours.”
Bear swallowed the pills dry, even crunching some of them between his teeth, his face grimacing at the taste.
“Helps to absorb them faster if I break them up. I used to go through these things like candy back in my football days. Probably didn’t help my liver much, but we didn’t worry about shit like that back then.”
Both Bear and Dublin looked through the windshield at the road illuminated by the headlights. Dublin noted how intensely Imran was looking ahead as well.
“Everything ok, Imran?”
The small man glanced to his right at Dublin before returning his focus on the road.
“Yes! Just watching for bandits. They are not common so close to Wilfrid, but, always best to be alert just in case. Especially given the reports they are preparing some kind of invasion into Alaska.”
Bear sat up and looked toward Imran.
“Bandits? You mean Muslims?”
Imran nodded.
“Yes. They like to travel the better roads. Steal supplies.”
Dublin felt a small knot of worry begin to form in her stomach.
“Have you encountered them on this road before, Imran?”
The smile fell off of Imran’s face as he answered.
“A few times. They are not well organized, but…can be dangerous. I am under the godfather’s protection though, so normally, that is enough to deter them from harming me. Normally.”
Bear was now focusing on the road in front of them as intently as Imran.
“Normally? What’s that mean?”
Imran tilted his head slightly to the left.
“Well…as I said. With the rumors of the Muslims planning something…who knows? Perhaps they are willing to challenge the old rules? Agreements? I would not worry too much though – I am being overly cautious here. Don’t allow my concern to worsen your own. We will most likely be just fine and arrive at Wilfrid without seeing anyone on this road.”
The sound of the truck’s large tires moving over the rough pavement of the road reverberated inside the cabin. Bear eased himself back down into the seat and placed his head against the cool glass of the side window. He was growing tired again, and found himself unable to fight off his body’s demand for sleep.
When Imran stomped down on the brake pedal, both Bear and Dublin fell forward against the truck’s console. In the back of the truck bed, the shouts from the other three men could be heard as well as they too were propelled forward.
Imran shut off the headlights but left the truck idling as it sat in the middle of the road.
In the distance
, perhaps no more than ten miles away, the glow of multiple lights could be seen cutting through the night’s darkness.
Mac had already jumped down from the truck bed with his gun drawn, his instincts for impending trouble already kicking in. The other two were somewhat slower to react, but soon Reese and Cooper were standing near the truck with their own weapons out as well. Imran opened the driver’s door and stepped out to stand next Cooper as both Bear and Dublin made their way down from the truck cabin.
Mac was staring intently at something ahead of their position and then pointed to the lights.
“That Fort Wilfrid?”
Imran gave one brief nod. He too was focusing on whatever he thought was directly in front of them.
Brando stood motionless directly to Cooper Wyse’s right side, the Doberman’s attention also indicating he sensed someone or something was out there.
Mac motioned for the others to step behind the transport truck, his voice whispering to them as he did so.
“We are being watched.”
As he moved slowly to a position behind the truck, with his right hand holding one of his two six shooters in front of him, Cooper strained to see confirmation of what Mac has just told him.
“How do you know that, Mac?”
Mac crouched down and placed his left hand on the pavement.
“Just a feeling. Been on ambush roads just like this so many times before…you just develop a sense for it.”
Imran pointed off into the darkness as he whispered back to the others.
“I saw a light on the road. It was there and then it went out. Maybe…a hundred yards ahead.”
Brando suddenly turned around, his now familiar low growl warning of something behind them.
Mac followed the dog’s gaze. Reese noted how calm and measured Mac became when danger became more imminent. He had watched Mac transform into that person during the darkest moments during the attacks on Dominatus.
“Ok. Whoever they are, looks like they split into two groups. One remained in front of us, the other is making their way behind us. That means there are fewer of them up ahead on the road, so I suggest we get back into the truck, get as low inside of it as possible, and drive the motherfucker right through them. We want to keep the headlights off, Imran – you ok to drive in the dark?”
Imran, though no longer smiling, appeared satisfied with Mac’s plan.
“No problem, Mac Walker. I have this road memorized. So…you want me to drive as fast as possible, is that right?”
Mac nodded.
“Yeah…get us moving as fast as you can and don’t stop until we reach Wilfrid. If we do have to stop…if whoever is up there is able to force us to stop, everyone of you jumps out of this truck guns blazing. And shoot to kill. No holding back. We all understand?”
Everyone nodded back at Mac before moving as silently as possible back into the vehicle. Imran and Mac returned to the truck cabin, while the rest laid down in the back of the truck bed.
With the headlights left off as Mac had instructed, Imran placed the truck into gear and pushed down on the accelerator. The transport vehicle lurched forward, picking up speed as Imran ran through the remaining few gears.
The first few shots fired at them came from behind. They watched the flash of gunfire followed by the sound of bullets ripping the air just above them. Then more shots came from directly in front of them. At least two bullets hit the long hood of the Imran’s truck, causing sparks to temporarily ignite against the WWII era steel. Mac and Imran sat as low as possible in the seats – just enough to allow them to peek out through the windshield.
“Keep on going, Imran. You’re doing great.”
Imran managed a small smile at Mac’s compliment, though the thin sheet of sweat forming on his forehead betrayed the stress of the moment. Yet more gunfire came from behind them, with several bullets striking the transport vehicles trailer bed. The thick steel prevented any from passing through.
More bullets struck the hood, and one hit the windshield, passed through the cabin no more than a foot above Mac’s head, before plugging somewhere in the passenger door frame. Mac’s eyes glanced upward and then he smiled.
“Good thing these Muslims are such shitty shots, huh?”
Imran could see the outline of a dilapidated vehicle no more than twenty yards ahead, parked directly in the middle of the road. It appeared to be an old light blue Chevy truck from the 1970’s. One man stood to the left of the truck, while two more stood just to the right of it. All of them were carrying AK-47 rifles.
Imran pressed down on the truck’s accelerator even further as the darkness ahead was illuminated by several more rounds of gunfire. Imran deftly maneuvered the transport truck to the left of the parked Chevy as the three armed men scrambled to get out of the way. His smile returning as enthusiastic as ever, Imran glanced over to Mac.
“Looks like we are by them!”
Mac nodded as he turned to glance behind them. He saw two of the three men getting back up from the ground where they had dived to avoid being hit by Imran’s truck as it passed them.
Without warning, the truck stumbled momentarily, once again causing everyone inside of it to be pushed forward. The vehicle lurched again, and then again, before coming to a stop as its engine died completely. From the back Bear’s voice could be heard issuing yet another complaint.
“Oh, for the love of God, you got to be kidding me! Can’t a guy catch just one fucking break around here?”
Shouting could be heard no more than thirty or forty yards behind where Imran’s truck had stalled.
Mac had already exited the truck with his handgun at the ready, as the others soon did the same.
“Want everyone to get behind the truck again. Good news is we know all of them are behind us now. That makes targeting easier. Bad news is, well…we’re here.”
More shouting came from behind them. Bear scowled as he turned to Imran.
“You understand what they’re saying? Is that Arabic?”
Mac responded before Imran could.
“Yeah – Somali Arabic actually, though there’s a bit of Yemeni accent to it.”
Though he had long since learned not to be surprised at Mac’s many talents, Reese could not help but be so again.
“I figured you understood Arabic, but you can actually recognize accents from different parts of the Middle East too?”
Mac tilted his head in the direction of the still shouting voices from behind them.
“Sure – no different than you being able to recognize different accents in the United States. I got my Louisiana thing going…which sounds a lot different than someone from say, Tennessee, and even more different than some asshole from Boston, right?”
Everyone but Brando instinctively ducked as several bullets struck the back of Imran’s truck.
“They are telling us to surrender. That they won’t harm us if we give up what we own.”
Imran stood up again and yelled back in Arabic at the group of Muslim bandits. Mac told the rest of the group what Imran has just said.
“He told them they are attacking a friend of the godfather’s and that he is under the godfather’s protection and that if they simply leave us alone, and let us be on our way, Imran won’t inform that godfather of what they have done.”
The bandits grew momentarily silent after Imran’s communication to them before one of the bandits responded.
Mac’s eyes widened slightly at what was spoken.
“They say they have a grenade launcher. An RPG, and they will blow us to Allah if they have to.”
“Bullshit. They would have already done it if they had one.”
Cooper Wyse glanced at Bear and then back to Mac.
“Not necessarily, Bear – not if they are hoping to get at whatever they think we might have all in one piece. “
Imran shook his head as he whispered back to Mac.
“These bandits, they aren’t armed with such things. A few old guns, yes. Machetes
, knives, absolutely. But a grenade launcher? I have not seen such a thing from them.”
Dublin placed her hand on Imran’s arm.
Tumultus Page 16
