Tumultus

by D. W. Ulsterman

  “What’s going on?”

  Bear’s question was left unanswered for several seconds before Reese invited him to sit down with them. Mac’s condition was explained to Bear, who sat silently listening, his face betraying no emotion. When the explanation was concluded, Bear looked Mac over before asking him a question.

  “Tell me one thing, Mac – why didn’t you just stay in Alaska? Why not rest there with Lucille? She’d take care of you.”

  Once more Mac’s eyes grew hard and cold as a flash of the old Mac re-ignited again.

  “You think I’m the kind of man who wants to be made over? Someone who will lie in bed fading away until there’s nothing of them left? Is that how you see me, Bear? I’m on this trip for the same reasons you are. Trying to help set things more right, give people a chance to fight back. People like you, your wife, and your kids. People like Reese and Dublin, and whatever life they might have together in the years to come. If people like us don’t take a stand, hell, it really is all over, isn’t it? We can’t sit back and wait for someone else to do it for us. So yeah, sick as I am, and maybe I should have said something sooner but you know, it’s my damn business…sick as I am, I’m still taking that stand. I’m still fighting that fight. It’s all I know how to do. So…I’ll keep doing it until I can’t do it no more. Same way your dad tried to fight for you all those years ago.”

  Bear noticeably winced at the mention of his father, but then his face returned to calm, and he nodded his head back at Mac.

  “Fine, Mac. You do what you got to do. I’m there for you. I’m sure we all are. Sick or not, I’m glad to have you on our side. I want you to know that.”

  Bear stood back up as he informed the group that the Russian estimated they would not be moving again until early morning. A crack was discovered outside the boiler housing. He’s doing some kind of silicone weld but says it will take time to set properly – at least six hours. As Bear turned to go, Yakov’s figure filled the doorway at the back of the passenger car.

  “You tell them about delay?”

  Bear answered yes.

  “Good. We go as soon as possible. Until then, we rest. Relax. Lots of travel tomorrow.”

  The Russian sensed there was something being left unsaid as he looked from Bear to the others. It was Bear who stepped forward to explain to Yakov what they had been discussing regarding Mac’s condition. The Russian let Bear finish and then shrugged his wide shoulders.

  “He die. You die. We all die. Until then, we live. Simple.”

  Mac chuckled.

  ‘See, told you I liked him. Don’t get more basic than that.”

  Yakov held up a finger to the group, signaling he wanted them to wait for him to return. A few minutes later he re-entered the passenger car carrying a bottle in his right hand which he proudly held up in front of him.

  “Tonight – we drink.”

  Yakov fell into a seat to Mac’s left and opened the bottle of Stolichnaya, taking a long swig before handing it to the former Navy SEAL while indicating Mac had no choice as to whether or not he cared to join him.

  “Drink.”

  Mac paused, looking at the open bottle.

  “I don’t know Yakov…I’m not feeling too well right now.”

  The Russian clapped a hand on Mac’s upper back with enough force to cause the older man to slump forward in his seat.

  “So drink! Feel better! Don’t be pussy.”

  Mac’s eyes narrowed as he looked back at Yakov.

  “You know, I was drinking this shit with former KGB when your momma was still wiping the mess from your ass.”

  The Russian broke out into laughter at Mac’s reference.

  “Good! Good! You tough guy, then! So drink up, tough guy!”

  Mac took an even longer drink from the bottle than the Russian had before handing it over to Cooper Wyse.

  “Your turn, cowboy.”

  Cooper took the vodka from Mac’s hands, slowly looking over the bold red and gold labeling.

  “I really don’t think you wanna get into a drinking match with an Irish cowboy.”

  Yakov waived a dismissive hand at the rancher.

  “Hah! This is Russian vodka! Irish cannot keep up. Pretenders.”

  Cooper Wyse lifted the bottle back and proceeded to drink nearly twice the amount either Yakov or Mac had.

  “Not exactly a pint of dark, but it’ll do in a pinch.”

  The bottle was then handed to Bear, who took a small sip, his face wrinkling in disgust.

  “Never liked that shit.”

  The Russian appeared horrified at Bear’s remark.

  “You don’t like vodka?”

  Bear confirmed the fact for a second time.

  “NO – I don’t like vodka.”

  Reese was the next to drink. He did so without complaint, though appeared only slightly more impressed with the vodka than Bear was. Dublin though, grabbed the bottle from Reese in her right hand while moving her hair aside with her left hand and tilted both her head and the bottle as far back as was comfortable while a considerable amount of the clear liquid disappeared down her throat.

  The men sat momentarily stunned at Dublin’s display of drinking prowess. Dublin in turn smiled and then laughed, pumping a fist in victory.

  “New York for the win baby!”

  For the next hour, they each sat laughing and sharing stories in the passenger car, its interior lit by two oil lanterns that hung from the ceiling. The contents of the bottle grew less and less as the bond between each of them grew steadily stronger. During a brief pause in the conversation, Reese grew serious again, posing a question he had long pondered since leaving Dominatus after the drone attacks.

  “What do you think was the single biggest reason for America’s downfall? Why were so many willing to give up so much for so little?”

  The Russian grunted.

  “United States was once big shot. It grow fat and lazy. People stopped working. Wanted something for nothing. Your politicians fed them promises of things for nothing. My grandfather tell me how it was in Soviet Union. Same thing. Promises of things for nothing. What they really get is nothing for everything. All freedom gone. Opportunity gone. Government controls it all.”

  Mac closed his eyes. He was struggling to stay awake, but he also wanted to answer Reese’s question. He had recalled a similar conversation with him back in Dominatus.

  “You know, Yakov’s right. We did get lazy. Nobody wanted to bother paying attention to what was really going on. The political class knew that. Knew how to use our own ignorance and laziness against us. They played on our greed and our insecurities. Got the country so divided up against itself. Political correctness probably destroyed more lives than anything else back then. Political correctness made people stop having real conversations. Made schools into little government approved factories for an agenda that was all about controlling you from the day you were born until the day you died and making you believe that was the way it was supposed to be. More and more people just started accepting being told what to do. Accepted the drones flying over their homes, watching them 24/7. Accepted having someone monitor what they drank and what they ate, and what they said, and what they might be thinking.”

  Mac’s voice began to trail off as sleep took hold, his words coming more slowly.

  “Tell you this, if we really do get a chance to start over, to hit some kind of re-set button, I sure hope those people appreciate that kind of opportunity. We sure didn’t. Not before it was too late. Too…damn…late.”

  XLII.

  Mac awoke before the others, his head aching slightly from the drinking done the night before. Daylight had just started to break outside. As he sat up, the headache worsened slightly, causing him to smile. It felt good to be hung over. In an odd way, it was a reminder of just how alive he still was.

  Reese and Dublin slept in their seats next to each other, while Bear lay across the floor of the passenger car, snoring loudly. Cooper was lying back in a se
at two rows away from Mac, while the Russian, like Bear, was on his back at the far end of the passenger car seemingly in competition with the volume of Bear’s snoring.

  Brando raised his head to look back at Mac, the dog’s intelligent eyes signaling his approval of seeing Mac wake up for another day.

  While making his way quietly to the back exit door Mac was barely able to muffle a gasp from the deep pain that coursed down his spine. His legs buckled as Mac leaned against the wall of the passenger car. He focused on taking deep, measured breaths until the pain passed. It took nearly a minute before the pain subsided enough that he could continue making his way outside.

  The air greeted Mac like a cold slap across his face, causing his skin to tingle. He found the experience invigorating, helping him to wake more fully and take his mind off the still throbbing pain in his lower back. Stepping down onto the ground, he inhaled deeply, taking in the scents of the arctic like air. The tall trees that lined either side of the train tracks loomed over Mac, silently looking down at him from above.

  Mac heard the door of the passenger car open behind him and saw the Russian jumping down from the platform to join him.

  “Ah! Good morning! Feeling better?”

  Mac considered the question and decided that yes, he was feeling better.

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am. I didn’t wake up coughing my lungs out, so that was a pleasant change from the last few weeks.”

  The Russian smiled and nodded his head. His beard and hair appeared to have taken on a life of its own overnight, appearing even more unkempt than before.

  “See! Vodka!”

  Mac shrugged.

  “Maybe.”

  Yakov began walking to the front of the train, his voice trailing behind him.

  “No maybe. Just yes. Vodka!”

  Mac stretched his arms above his head, and then leaned over to touch his feet. He really was feeling better, the pain in his back not withstanding. Sunlight was now breaking through the trees, casting a beautiful glow over the Russian’s beloved train.

  Going back into the passenger car, he found Cooper Wyse up as well. The rancher was whispering to Brando, asking the Doberman if he wanted to go outside.

  “Well hello there, Mac. Nice to see you looking better.”

  Mac wondered if the compliment actually reflected how he looked.

  “Am I really looking better, Coop?”

  The rancher stood up and looked back at Mac.

  “Yeah – I’d say so. Quite a bit better, actually. Guess that Russian vodka agrees with you.”

  Mac rubbed his temples.

  “Tell that to my head.”

  Within the next hour, Bear, Reese, and Dublin also awoke. Dublin in particular appeared to be hurting the most from the impacts of the evening’s choice of drink.

  “Ok, guys…remind me not to do that again for a while.”

  Bear chuckled at Dublin’s discomfort, and then proceeded to do an impression of Yakov for the others.

  “Vodka good! You drink it good! Make you feel all better!”

  Dublin began to laugh at how accurate Bear’s voice took on the Russian’s accent and tone, but then stopped abruptly as she looked behind Bear to see Yakov staring back at her.

  Bear continued with his impression, unaware the Russian stood just behind him.

  “Drink vodka! Don’t be pussy! Vodka! Vodka! Vodka!”

  Getting no response from Dublin or the others, Bear looked back at them in frustration.

  “What? I thought that was pretty good. Sounds just like him.”

  Yakov cleared his throat.

  Bear froze, his eyes rolling from side to side in a vain attempt to somehow see in the back of his head.

  The Russian began to clap slowly.

  “Very good, yeah? You sound like me? Ok then. Now get your ass back to front of train and fill the firebox with coal. We have many hours to travel.”

  Bear turned himself slowly around, his hands held up in front of him.

  “Didn’t mean anything by it, Yakov. Just having a little fun.”

  Yakov nodded back at Bear.

  “Of course – of course! Just a little fun! No hard feelings. We shake on it. All good then.”

  Bear appeared relieved, extending his right hand out toward the Russian, who proceeded to grasp it firmly in his own. Yakov smiled back at Bear as he began squeezing the taller man’s hand as Bear attempted to continue appearing as if the increasing pressure was not causing him any discomfort. The fact was though, he already wanted to cry out in pain, so powerful was the Russian’s grip.

  Sensing he had made his point, Yakov released Bear’s hand and began making his way back outside.

  “Hurry up. Fill the firebox so we can begin warming the engine.”

  Bear followed close behind the Russian, gently rubbing his right hand as he did so.

  As soon as the door closed behind him, Dublin started giggling again, soon joined by the others. Mac in particular found it difficult to contain his laughter.

  “Those two make one hell of an odd couple, but I do believe they were made for one another!”

  A voice cut across the interior of the passenger car, originating from Mac’s portable shortwave that he had just turned on shortly after waking. Walking over to where he had left it, he adjusted the radio’s volume to ensure everyone else could hear. The voice was that of Royce Calhoun, leader of the Texas Resistance – the man who had requested they make their way to Churchill, Manitoba in search of an alleged weapon to be used against the New United Nations.

  “This is Mac Walker – please repeat.”

  Mac and the others waited silently for a response. None came.

  “This is Mac Walker – repeat your last message.”

  Royce Calhoun’s voice again issued from the shortwave.

  “Mac, this is Calhoun. I need you to know…we are running out of time down here. They got us pinned along the border, bombing the hell out of us inside Texas, and coordinating attacks from the drug cartels in Mexico. What is your ETA to destination?”

  Mac pushed the transmit button on the handheld.

  “We are within twenty four hours. Repeat – twenty four hours.”

  There was another pause of nearly a minute in the communication before Royce Calhoun responded.

  “Mac, we need that weapon. I have been assured it is real and it can be effective. Don’t want to say exactly how over the open signal here in case we’re being monitored. We need you to get to the assigned location as soon as possible. Look for the church.

  Our status down here is reaching…it ain’t good, Mac. Maybe a few days left, a week at most. We lost over a hundred yesterday to another drone attack. Some days the skies are almost completely filled with these goddamn drones, one bombing attack after another. Our numbers are down to a few thousand active. Losing more every day. I’m swamped with injured men and women, people who haven’t had water in days, or food in over a week. Received confirmation they are assembling more drones for Alaska too. Gonna come in strong up there. Do you understand?”

  Mac looked up at Reese, Dublin and Cooper before he answered Royce Calhoun.

  “We understand. Doing our best. Give us another twenty four.”

  Royce Calhoun’s voice betrayed the immense stress he was under attempting to lead the newly formed Texas Resistance against the drone might that was the New United Nations.

  “God help us, Mac. You got twenty four hours. After that…I don’t know if there’ll be anything left to save down here.”

  The communication went silent.

  Mac rose from his seat slowly, bracing for the now always present pain in his back to intensify.

  “I’m going to talk to Yakov. We need to get this fucking train moving – NOW.”

  The group followed Mac out of the passenger car and toward the locomotive where Bear was still filling the firebox with coal. The Russian emerged from the front of the train, looking back at Mac and the others, wondering what it was t
hey wanted.

  “Yakov, I need you to get us moving again. Right now. We need to be in Churchill by tomorrow. No later. This train needs to be pushed to its limits. Can you do that for us?”

  Yakov stroked his massive, unruly beard as his dark eyes looked back at Mac.

  “We go too fast, it could damage engine. Then, we don’t go at all.”

  Mac took another step toward the Russian, his face attempting to convey how desperate the situation had become.