Blood and Chaos: The Collected Low Lying Lands Saga (The Low Lying Lands Saga)

by Bob Williams

  “That wasn’t necessary, old friend,” I say casually. “We are happy to eat anywhere. To be honest, we’re pretty stoked to be eating in general.”

  He laughs. “You all do look a little skinny. No, I thought it would be a good idea this first time to give you the opportunity to stuff your faces in peace. You can mingle with the common folk going forward.”

  “I wouldn’t characterize it that way at all,” says Shields. “We’re all in this fight together, Commander.”

  “First off, Laura—if I may—I was just bustin’ your chops. It’s rare that I get to do that these days. The people expect more out of me. So indulge me these few moments. Secondly, shut up and eat.” Jay smiles his hearty smile, and we all dig in.

  After a few moments, Jay speaks up again. “So Cole, and Shields as well, Prescott says you guys and Lexi drove all over hell and high water, and there was not much going on out there. That true?”

  “Craziest thing I’ve ever seen. Well ... in the last three years, anyway. To have virtually no encounters with Regulars or Freaks. Commander, it’s spooky out there.”

  Kevin Summers, who’s been silent up to this point, chimes in. “Spooky is right. It fits, though. We haven’t seen or heard anything unusual around our facility for quite some time.”

  Jay nods. “Well put, Kevin. I guess that’s what I’m curious about. I know what you’ve told me. But I want you three to think hard. Did you see anything at all unusual while you were gone? Because where things sit now, this feels ... off. Like something’s in play and we’re about to get fucked.”

  “I’m sorry, Commander,” says Shields. “Maybe there have been other factions of Regulars communicating outside our spectrum. Maybe they’re well organized and have either moved or literally gone underground.”

  “The Freaks,” says Cole. “Where the fuck have the Freaks gone to?”

  My turn. “Granted, it’s impossible to tell. We didn’t scour every single mile of road on this trip. Believe it or not, we could’ve missed a hundred Freaks by ten miles at any one of our stops along the way. It’s farfetched. Yeah, it is. But they gotta be somewhere.”

  “That’s a stretch, Prescott. Something’s up. I want to know what it is. Keep thinking, though. Does anything stand out? Anything ... odd. Yeah, I know. Work with me.”

  After a few minutes of silent chewing, Cole speaks up. “Well, this might fall under unusual, I guess.”

  “Go ahead,” says Jay, eyebrows raised.

  “Right after Nashville, while the dirt and death was still in the air, Prescott, myself, and Shields made a little pact. That we were gonna help the people. You know, take it back!”

  I stiffen. I thought this had been put to bed. “Shut the fuck up, Cole.”

  “So all of us and Lexi hop in the Comanche and we just start driving. We’re all pumped up about our new mission and all the Freak ass we’re gonna kick.”

  I slam my fist down on the table and half the drinks on the table tip over. “Cole!”

  “Prescott! Sit down!” says Jay.

  “So we make our way onto the interstate ramp and we start to go. No sooner had we gone five miles before Prescott starts yelling for everyone to shut up. You coulda heard a pin drop in that car, man. Not a peep from anyone for half a minute. Then he looks straight ahead and says, ‘Emily?’”

  Jay stares. “Hold on. What? Emily?” He turns to me. “Why wasn’t this the first goddamn thing you said to me this morning? Why wouldn’t you share this with me?”

  “I can answer that,” says Cole. “Prescott claims that Emily spoke to him through the CB receiver and said—and I quote—‘You are protected, brother. Go to work.’”

  “Claims?” says Kevin.

  “Yes,” says Shields. “You see, Prescott was the only one who heard it.”

  I shove back from the table and walk out of the room.

  ***

  There’s a knock on my door, and Shields yells, “Open up, Prescott!” I force myself off my cot and to the door.

  “I talked to Commander Rives. He’ll let it drop for tonight. But you’ll need to come clean with him in the morning.”

  I’m about to blow. “What are you talking about? Cole totally fucking sandbagged me out there. I don’t owe any of you shit.”

  “Prescott, cut Cole some slack. In the grand scheme, we’re all still getting to know each other.” She stands in front of me, still out in the corridor. She seems to be pondering something.

  “Come in,” I say.

  “Let me try and put this in Prescott terms.” She actually makes air quotes. “And I’ll get the quote wrong so I’m just going to paraphrase. Remember the movie Speed?”

  “Yeah, of course. Sandra Bullock.”

  “Keanu Reeves. Whatever.”

  “Get to the point.”

  “Okay, okay. She tells Keanu Reeves at the end of the movie ... something like ‘relationships born of conflict or danger never work out.’”

  “And ...?” I say.

  “Think about it. The entire basis of our friendship—‘friendship?’ Are we all even friends?—all revolves around one gigantic conflict. And then we banded together over another conflict. Right? Then we took off together in your Comanche for four months and what did we do all that time?”

  “I don’t know. What do you mean?”

  “I’ll tell you. We searched and searched and searched until our eyes were bloodshot, for more conflict! Because that’s what we do. What Cole did tonight, believe it or not, was try to be your friend. To show you that there is more to us then having each other’s back in a firefight.”

  Damn. She did it. She spoke to me in my language. I get it.

  “Well?” she says. “Say something.”

  I’m a bit stunned, so it takes me a few seconds to come up with something. “Look, I’m really tired, Laura. You’ve given me something to think about. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

  She looks pissed. “No. You’ll talk to Commander Rives.” She turns, walks out the door, and slams it for good measure.

  “He prefers Jay!” I yell after her, my cheeks flushed red because I know I’m an asshole.

  What the fuck happened that day? I heard Emily. I know it!

  Malcolm? Malcolm? Where are you?

  I cross the room to my cot and sit down on the edge, thinking about Emily. I lie back and rest my head on the pillow, disconcerting thoughts rolling around in my mind as I drift off to sleep.

  ***

  Before I know it, I’m awakened by the comm signal and Jay’s voice, edgy, coming through loud and clear.

  “Prescott, Cole, and Shields, report to Ops. Pronto!”

  Within seconds the cobwebs of sleep are gone. I get dressed, boots this time instead of flip flops. Lexi is at my hip, and we are out the door. We turn the corner and practically run right into Cole.

  “Good morning to you, Major Jackwagon!” gruffs Cole.

  “Listen, Cole, we don’t have time for this right now, but Laura gave me a little perspective last night, and I get it. Thank you. I was just caught off guard. Okay? Wanna hug it out?”

  “Fuck off, Prescott.”

  “There’s my buddy.”

  We walk in silence for a bit before turning the corner and meeting Shields.

  Jeez. All we need is music.

  “Should we walk in slow motion now?” I ask.

  Shields grumbles, “Shut up, Prescott.”

  “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m feeling the love this morning.”

  The four of us walk into the Operations hub and right away sense a buzz of activity. It’s just after seven a.m. The sun is still rising and the ants are already marching.

  “Good, you’re here. You guys need to take a look at this,” Jay says.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  “Two vehicles approaching. Heavily fortified. The bird has ‘em dead to rights.”

  Kevin, on the last hour of his twelve-to-eight, is trying doggedly to raise them on numerous channels.r />
  “Normal SZ Ops to the two approaching Humvees, over.”

  “Driver of either vehicle, please state your business in Normal, over.” Kevin looks back at Jay and shrugs his shoulders.

  Jay says, “He’s been saying that repeatedly for the last ten minutes. The bird had ‘em before that but—”

  “Sir,” says Kevin. “There’s static. I’m not sure what’s happening. Maybe it’s trying to communicate but can’t.”

  “Okay, send backup for Jase and Keegan. Observe only. Don’t draw their weapons, don’t appear hostile, and for God’s sake don’t anyone but Jase say anything until we know what’s going on.”

  “Sir! Sending backup immediately.”

  Jay turns to me. “What was it—four months, three days and yadda fuckin’ yadda? Then you show up. Now this. You always bring the shit with you to other people’s houses?”

  Cole and Shields smirk while I put my hands up in surrender. “What?”

  ***

  We all watch as the Humvee progresses at a cautious speed toward the NSZ. Twenty minutes later, the two green Humvees come to a stop. Okay, they were green ‘cause the bird is on night vision, but still.

  Jase and Keegan both approach the vehicle with caution, Keegan apparently in the lead this time. He leans in and briefly speaks with the driver. Afterwards, he steps back, turns to where he knows the bird is filming, and puts his thumb and his pinky to his face like a phone, then walks to the guard shack.

  “Kevin, stick around. Put the incoming call on Ops Central Comm Public.”

  “Sir!”

  The comm signal comes in over the internal speakers and Keegan reports, “Checkpoint Charlie to Night Ops one, over?”

  “This is Commander Rives. Get to it, son. Who is it and what do they want? Over.”

  “Commander! Sir! This vehicle is a representative of the Fort Wayne, Indiana Safe Zone. They claim they are in desperate need of our aid, sir.”

  “Kevin, switch from the bird to CPC, and Keegan, request the driver exit the vehicle and provide any documentation he may have.” We watch as Keegan approaches the lead Humvee again and speaks to the driver, his arm gesturing for him to get out.

  The door opens and a tall, muscular man exits the vehicle. His arms are animated, expressing distress, and his head is shaking. Jase is engaged in conversation with the man.

  “Audio, dammit,” says Jay.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I’m only following orders.”

  “May I speak to Commander Jay Rives, please!” This guy is getting pissed.

  “Private Keegan, we have audio. Direct him to the camera and tell him to start talking.”

  Keegan does as instructed. He directs the man toward the camera and says, “State your business.”

  “... Prescott. We came to see Prescott. We need his help.”

  Jay’s head abruptly drops. Then he shakes it. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

  AID TO FORT WAYNE

  The Fort Wayne coalition is allowed entrance, and they are instantly assigned a chaperone and directed to visitor registration. There, they’re all assigned clearance level delta. This means they are not allowed anywhere on the grounds without an escort.

  The visitors are afforded the opportunity to shit, shower, and shave, and a small meal is provided as well. Then we all meet in the cafeteria.

  Jay says, “Okay, let’s get started. Visitors first. Names?”

  The driver of the Humvee speaks. “Brent Feazel. Colonel. Fort Wayne Safe Zone. The gentleman with me is Brett Leonberger.”

  “Brent and Brett,” I say. “Wonderful.”

  “Yeah. We get that a lot,” grumbles Feazel.

  Feazel stands about six feet, two inches and has maybe two percent body fat. A well-built individual with a three-day beard, he presents as all business. Leonberger is shorter, a little more stocky, and looks like he maybe smiled once, like ten years ago.

  “Okay, how can we help you guys?”

  “If we cut right to the chase, we need Prescott’s help. Word around the campfire is he and his team are willing to help people out.”

  Word around the campfire, huh? Says who? And what fire?

  “Explain ‘word around the campfire,’” says Shields, reading my mind.

  “Well, since our SZ was attacked, we’ve been sending long-range scouts out in all directions. We’ve had two-person teams head north up into Ann Arbor, Detroit, then farther up into Canada as far as Ottawa and Montreal. We’ve sent teams to Milwaukee, Des Moines, Topeka, and Oklahoma City. Most aren’t even making it back. But we did have a scout get back from Tennessee. Her partner was killed, and she barely made it back herself, and she regaled us with stories of you, Prescott. How you, your friends, and your dog took down Kendrick Kade. She was told you guys wanted to help people. Well, here we are.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Can you go back to the part where you were regaled with stories of me?”

  “Oh, cut the shit, Prescott!” says Cole. “Is everything a joke to you?”

  “Foxhole humor, Cole. We’ve had this discussion.”

  Jay intervenes. “Well, my good friend Prescott here and his friends have been here only one night, and they’re just back from months of looking for people to help. They have nothing to show for it. Where is everyone?”

  “We’ve noticed that as well,” says Leonberger. “Our safe zone is on the smaller side anyway, but before we fell, there hadn’t been any new registrations in months.”

  “Your SZ has fallen?” says Cole. “Dammit! I’m sorry to hear that. We need the Network! Our objectives should be to either insert before a fall or fortify, train, and defend existing safe zones. We should have known about Fort Wayne and been there to help preemptively.” He looks at me accusingly, as if I have something to do with it. “Where the hell is Malcolm, Presc—?”

  “Cole, if I may,” interrupts Jay. “Let’s step back for a second. No offense to our new friends, but I’d call the Network and Malcolm a non-Delta clearance topic in the immediate future. Okay?”

  “Listen, guys, ma’am, whatever,” says Leonberger. “We need your help. Our homes, our families, and our security were destroyed in one fell swoop. The only thing currently stringing our community together is the hope that Brent and I will be returning with people who can help. So, honestly, we don’t give a damn about your badges or your code words. So can we pitch our damn case or what?”

  I’m not entirely sure Jay is used to being talked to like that in his own home, but he seems to shake it off. “Please proceed, Col. Feazel.”

  “Thank you, sir. And despite my associate’s outburst, we sincerely appreciate your courtesy in bringing us in to listen. Our commander, James Garner, thanks you.”

  “You work for Rockford?”

  “Before my time, but apparently so. Okay, so I’m not sure how well your ears are working, but there is a nasty dude out there on the plain. Calls himself Admiral Shen. We obviously had no intel the asshole was even out there. He just ... appeared on a wave of annihilation, and before we knew it, we were toast.

  “What’s truly terrifying—and I have no idea how he’s doing it—is he’s talking to the Freaks. And Prescott, they’re listening.”

  “Chaos,” I say.

  “We don’t know that for sure,” says Jay. “But if it is Chaos, this scenario just graduated to seriously shitty.”

  “Is that your professional military opinion?” I ask. I immediately feel guilty. I cracked a joke so they wouldn’t see me pissing my pants. Chaos. Shit!

  “Yes, it is, Prescott. Now shut your ass up.”

  “What the hell are you guys talking about?” Feazel demands.

  Jay nods at them. “You two will be upgraded to beta clearance immediately and will be fully briefed. Now tell us what happened.”

  “Admiral Shen came through and basically blitzkrieged us in the middle of the night. We lost eighty percent of our contingency. People and property.”

  Shields cuts in. “Do you have any concept o
f where he came from? Where he got all of this started?”

  “No, ma’am. He wasn’t there, then he was there. We couldn’t spare bodies to try and go find where this started. We do have people trailing him. We sent one person by the name of Abel to follow them. He has not reported back.

  “An exhaustive search was conducted and a new location, a suburb of the FW area called Rolling Hills, has been selected. The remaining members of the community have spent the past several weeks packing what can be transported to Rolling Hills, and that cargo is currently waiting on us. We have a few remaining soldiers, but we are in desperate need of exterminators.”

  That startles Cole. “Exterminators? What is that?”

  “You’re not familiar with the term? Or the function? Maybe it’s regional,” says Feazel.

  “Please, enlighten us,” Shields urges.

  “Okay, ma’am. I’ll try and not sound like a manual. Exterminators operate as a five-man team. Each team member is heavily armed, focused, and cannot be deterred once we enter a property. Once it’s a “go,” the process doesn’t stop till it’s over. No exceptions. Exterminators clear out prospective Safe Zones. It’s a three-step gig.

  “Step one: Search the property from top to bottom and exterminate any and all Freaks.

  “Step two: Locate any regulars on the grounds. Immediately administer a blood test. Have the field medic administer a general checkup. Secure for transport back to SZ.

  “Step three: Have the team inspector survey the property and assess if it is viable for inclusion in, or as, a future safe zone.”

  Shields looks impressed. “So, to break it down: two go in and kill everything; two gather any Regulars, administer blood tests, and aid; and then the inspector does his best to determine if the property is structurally sound, safe, and adequate for use. Nice job, by the way. Administering blood tests as part of receiving. Smart.”