Tumultus

by D. W. Ulsterman

  “Did I?”

  Alexander Meyer nodded.

  “Oh, yes, you all did. And for good reason – I was a very old man! So old in fact, it became my title as much or more than my actual name!”

  “Did that ever bother you? Being called the Old Man?”

  Alexander Meyer smiled back at Mac, the light in his eyes dancing happily for a brief second.

  “No, not really. I knew I was loved, respected, cared for. There is no shame in that. I had lived a very long time – suffered much, celebrated more. It was, despite the darker moments, a very, very good life.”

  The Old Man leaned across the table toward Mac, his right hand coming to rest on Mac’s left hand as his face grew very serious.

  ‘So tell me, Mac, how are you feeling about your own life?”

  Mac looked down at the Old Man’s hand as he contemplated the question.

  “I feel…I feel like it’s running out, and I don’t like it. Not one damn bit. I hate losing, and I know that is what’s happening to my body right now. It’s losing.”

  The Old Man removed his hand from Mac’s as he moved back into his chair.

  “Growing old is inevitable, Mac. Death is inevitable. A body is not meant to go on forever, as much as we would like it to. There’s your soul though, the life beyond life.”

  Mac’s face contorted in disgust as he looked away from the Old Man.

  “Ah, don’t go talking all that bullshit, Mr. Meyer. I ain’t interested in hearing it. And don’t think I’m so far gone already that I don’t know these dreams are just me having a conversation with myself inside my own head.”

  Alexander Meyer folded his hands on the table in front of him while staring back at Mac for several seconds.

  “You don’t think I’m really here? That this doesn’t exist? That I don’t exist?”

  Mac was growing angrier, struggling not to shout back at the Old Man.

  “You’re just a memory in my head! And when I’m gone, so is the memory! I’ll be gone. You’re already gone. That’s just the way it is. There’s no God. This world is far too fucked up for me to believe in something like that - that there is some kind of ‘thing’ out there somewhere responsible for all this shit. Maybe a long time ago I’d have considered it, but I’ve seen too much. I’ve done too much. I’m not a stupid kid anymore. Sorry, Mr. Meyer, but you’re dead. I watched you die in your bed. Watched you take your last breath. Buried you in the ground. You don’t exist anymore. Just a voice in my head. Just me talking to myself.”

  The Old Man smiled back at Mac, though his eyes betrayed a deep sadness.

  “Mac, please listen to me. I need you to prepare. I need you to be right when your moment comes. That body of yours is dying, but there’s so much more beyond that tired and broken shell. You’re a good man, Mac. One of the finest and noblest men I ever had the pleasure to know. You have protected so many for so long, I am now asking that you consider the possibility of the need to protect you from yourself, from your own arrogance and ignorance. Time is running out, Mac, and you must be prepared, otherwise your guilt and your dissatisfactions will permanently corrupt this new beginning – this beginning of a new beginning.”

  Mac’s composure finally broke, causing him to do something he had never done before. He shouted back in anger at Alexander Meyer.

  “Shut up with that shit! I don’t need your spiritual nonsense! I was born, and I lived, and now I’m gonna die! Not a damn thing to be done about it! That fucking Hess jabbed me full of this cancer. If there’s some God out there, why the hell did He let him do that? Why’d He let the globalists destroy America? How about all those people killed by the drones? Seems to me that in this world, evil is rewarded while no good deed goes unfucking punished! So fuck God. And fuck you too. Get the hell out of my bar! Get the hell out of my fucking head!”

  Mac Walker woke inside the passenger car of the moving train, the darkness outside passing silently by the window next to his seat. He sensed the train was moving very fast now, speeding down the tracks toward their destination in Churchill, Manitoba, to the priest and the hoped for weapon that would help destroy the New United Nations.

  His lungs struggled to take in air, the sound of his wheezing enough to make Mac fear he would wake the others. He could feel his heart working harder and harder as it attempted to function with the diminished levels of oxygen in his body.

  A wave of guilt washed over Mac. Even though he remained convinced it was merely a dream, he was shocked at how he had spoken with such disrespect to the memory of the Old Man, and found himself whispering a silent apology to that memory. Brando raised his head from the floor near Mac’s feet, the Doberman’s eyes seemingly full of concern for the dying former soldier.

  Mac shook his head at the silly thought. Brando was a hell of a dog to be sure, but he was just a dog. He wasn’t capable of human feeling anymore than the universe was capable of having some god out there watching over everything and everyone. People tended to just believe what they wanted to believe.

  Leaning down so that his face was close enough to Brando’s that the Doberman was able to gently lick his left cheek, Mac found himself whispering softly back to the dog.

  “That don’t mean I ain’t grateful to you, Brando. Glad to have you on my side. As bad as I’m feeling right now, I need all the help I can get.”

  Brando’s eyes locked with Mac’s, and for a brief moment, the dying man would have sworn he heard the voice of the Old Man calling out from somewhere in the darkness.

  “I need you to be right when your moment comes, Mac…”

  XLVI.

  Dublin woke just in time to see the train speed past a small metallic white sign with black lettering place on the side of the tracks that simply read, MANITOBA.

  “Reese, wake up. We’ve just entered the Manitoba province.”

  Reese stirred beside her, his eyes still half closed. They had been sleeping for nearly ten hours as the Russian pushed his beloved train to its limits. At that time, they were traveling at nearly seventy miles an hour.

  Over the next few hours Dublin and the others watched as the Manitoba landscape changed from an almost lush green, to increasingly snow covered ground. At one point, the train slowed its progress considerably as the Russian pushed through a snow bank that had settled over the tracks. When the train nearly halted, the group inside of the passenger car could hear Yakov utilizing his flame thrower to blast through the section of snow and ice before the train once again moved forward with increasing speed.

  Cooper Wyse took a seat across from Dublin and Reese, his eyes gazing out across the ever growing, snow dominated terrain outside.

  “Wonder if we’ll see some polar bears?”

  Reese’s eyes opened wide at Cooper’s mentioning of polar bears.

  “What? Polar bears?”

  The rancher nodded as he looked back toward the window.

  “I read something about it a long time ago. They called Churchill the polar bear capital of the world, or something along those lines anyway. Run wild all over the area. Lots of bears and one hell of a light show too. The northern lights. They used to run tourist trips up that way years back. Bunch of silly hippies from the city wanting to be one with nature, or whatever it was that motivated those people.”

  Reese tipped his head toward Dublin.

  “Like Dublin? She was a New Yorker. Likes to grow plants. Definite hippie material right here.”

  Dublin’s mouth opened in mock outrage.

  “Whatever, Florida boy.’

  Mac unleashed a harsh bout of coughing, causing his face to turn red as he fought to take a complete breath. The only thing he could produce was a series of strained gasps until finally, the coughing subsided.

  Dublin rose from her seat to sit next to Mac, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She silently noted how much more frail he felt. He was also shivering. Placing a hand on his forehead, Dublin was shocked to at how cool, almost cold, Mac’s skin felt.

&
nbsp; “I shouldn’t have yelled at him like that. Never…done that before. Wasn’t right of me to act that way. I owe him so much. Wasn’t right of me…”

  Dublin squeezed her arms more tightly around Mac to try and warm him up.

  “It’s ok, Mac. I’m here. You’re sleeping on the train. We’re almost to Churchill now, Mac. Almost there.”

  Mac’s eyes opened halfway as he looked up at Dublin, a small smile creeping across his deeply lined face. The smile quickly disappeared as Mac awoke more fully and he attempted to sit up and push himself away from Dublin.

  “Oh, dammit, no!”

  Mac looked over to where the others were sitting, grateful it appeared they had not overheard. Not wanting to look back at Dublin, Mac felt a great shame welling up inside of him. So much shame he could feel tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

  Dublin reached a hand out to him and leaned in, sensing something was troubling Mac terribly.

  “Mac – what is it? What’s wrong?”

  Still unable to meet Dublin’s gaze, Mac quickly wiped the tears away from his eyes. Finally he looked back at her, his mouth curled downward as he fought the urge to start sobbing.

  “I pissed myself, Dublin. Couldn’t stop it. It just happened. I…I fucking pissed myself.”

  Dublin drew herself closer to Mac, again wrapping her arms around him.

  “Sshhhh, it’s ok, Mac. It’s ok. There’s a bathroom in here, remember? You can go in and clean yourself up. It’s fine. Really. I won’t tell.”

  Dublin felt Mac stiffen at her words. He again leaned back away from her.

  “That won’t be necessary, Dublin. I don’t need you covering for me.”

  The familiar determination had returned to Mac’s face as he slowly stood up to face Reese and Cooper, a small groan escaping him from the effort.

  “Just want to let you two know – I just pissed myself. Ok?”

  Reese looked back at Mac and tried to smile, but wasn’t quite able to pull it off.

  “That’s ok, Mac. No big deal.”

  Mac glanced over at Cooper Wyse, who appeared bored by Mac’s admission of losing control of his bladder.

  “Hell, Mac, look on the bright side.”

  Mac frowned back at the rancher, not sure what positive could be found in one urinating all over themselves.

  “And what bright side would that be, Coop?”

  Cooper flashed a wide smile.

  “You didn’t shit yourself – got that going for you.”

  Mac stood there silent for a brief moment before he broke out laughing, finally allowing the tears to stream down his face.

  It would be the last time anyone would ever hear Mac Walker laugh.

  In the locomotive, Yakov pulled the train’s whistle as they sped past another trackside sign that read, CHURCHILL STATION – 120 KILOMETERS

  As Mac made his way slowly into the passenger car’s small bathroom facility, he again heard the calm, assured voice of the Old Man speaking to him.

  “Open your heart and listen to the words of the priest. You’re almost there now.”

  XLVII.

  The final stretch to Churchill proved increasingly uncomfortable for those inside the passenger car. The tracks leading to the outpost had not been used for years, and were clearly suffering from various degrees of neglect, causing the train itself to vibrate violently as it made its way closer to Churchill, slowing the speed of travel considerably.

  Outside, large areas of snow and ice were disrupted by smaller areas of green, grass covered knolls and the occasional dark green spruce tree. To the east of the tracks were the massive blue waters of the Hudson Bay. Although it was just mid-afternoon, the sky was already turning toward darkness.

  Mac, Dublin, Cooper, and Reese were suddenly thrown forward in their seats. Mac actually fell onto the floor, while the others were able to catch themselves before doing the same. A series of increasingly strong vibrations rumbled directly underneath them as the entire train lurched sharply to the left before coming to an abrupt halt.

  Dublin and Reese helped Mac to his feet while the sound of the Russian cursing loudly from outside made its way down the train and into the passenger car. Cooper Wyse looked outside and then back to the others.

  “Jumped the track. Looks like we might be walking the last part there.”

  Mac was making his way toward the exit door as Dublin’s eyes watched his progress. She knew Mac was likely no longer capable of walking any distance.

  Standing outside, the temperature felt to be near freezing, causing all of them to bundle their coats around them more tightly. Mac was clearly determined to not appear uncomfortable, walking as quickly as he could toward Yakov and Bear, who both stood just outside the locomotive’s cab.

  “What happened, Yakov?”

  The Russian watched as Mac came toward him, and then raised his arms out from his sides.

  “What happened is shit tracks make train run off. Lucky to be going slowly when it happened. Going to take long time to move train back onto track.”

  Mac looked over at the front of the locomotive, noting how it was tipping slightly to its left side.

  “How long is a long time, Yakov?”

  The Russian began to stroke the remaining portion of the beard that the seeker had not torn off, as he muttered to himself in Russian.

  “Need at least half a day. Maybe longer.”

  Reese was directly behind Mac and overheard Yakov’s timeline.

  “We’re only about five or six miles from Churchill. How about we just start walking down the tracks on our own? Maybe there’s equipment there to help move the train back? That would be better than sitting still around here, right? Shouldn’t take us more than two, maybe three hours to get to Churchill on foot. Mac, what was it that Calhoun said to look for when we get there?”

  Mac was staring down the tracks when he answered Reese.

  “The church – he said to look for the church.”

  The Russian nodded at Reese’s suggestion to walk the remaining way.

  “Ok – we go.”

  Cooper interjected.

  “Hold up. Gonna be dark in less than two hours. Like I told Reese earlier, this is polar bear country. Supposed to be lots of them up this way – wolves too. We would be better off bunking in the passenger car for the night, and then heading out at first light.”

  Mac paused to consider Cooper’s suggestion. Before he responded, Bear raised his own question.

  “Didn’t Cahloun say he needed us to locate the priest ASAP? Within twenty four hours?”

  Cooper indicated agreement with Bear on that point, but continued with his suggestion they not travel out in the open at night.

  “We made good time today, if we leave at first light, we’ll still be close to meeting that deadline.”

  Brando cocked his head to the side as the howl of a wolf broke across the landscape, followed by several more howls from the direction they intended to travel into Churchill.

  Whether it was the sound of the wolves, or something else, Mac had made up his mind.

  “We stay here tonight, then go out in the morning, just like Coop said. I want one of us up at all times keeping guard. I’ll take first shift. We had to have put a lot of distance between ourselves and those seekers, but I don’t want to risk being caught by surprise by them or anything else out there.”

  Nobody disputed Mac’s instructions, as each of them made their way silently back into the train’s passenger car.

  The group sat down to a brief meal of dried fruit and water. Once again, Mac ate or drank very little. As the others settled down to try and sleep, he sat in a corner of the train car by himself, a loaded shotgun sitting across his lap. The pain in his lower back had returned with a vengeance, causing him to have to constantly re-adjust his position in his seat.

  Just put the barrel of that gun under your chin and pull the trigger, Mac. No need to suffer anymore. Don’t be a burden on everyone else. One little tug and it
’s all done. Might leave a little mess for them to clean up, but they’ll be able to move a lot faster without you. They’ll be safer without you.

  Mac recognized the voice. It was August Hess, the man who had injected him with the deadly, untreatable cancer. He wasn’t sleeping though. He couldn’t be dreaming. How could he be hearing Hess’s voice, a man who he had watched die over two years ago?

  Don’t bother worrying about that, Mac. Just focus on the pain. It will only get worse. And your lungs. They are just about used up. Pretty soon you won’t be able to breath at all. Like drowning inside your own body. Why put yourself through that, Mac? Why put your friends through that? Just pull the trigger. Let it all go and be done with it.