by Ryan King
"...planned to capture you all, too..."
"...we figured you'd get the drop on 'em..."
Joshua turned back to find Conrad smiling. "Guess you boys did get the drop on us, but not till after we got the same on yours."
"Where's the rest of my men?" Joshua asked.
Conrad jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Back at our base camp. Probably having a very serious discussion about what they know and don't know if I had to guess."
"They're being tortured?" Joshua asked, feeling his blood rise.
Conrad held his palms out. "That's such an ugly word. It's more apt to say they are being highly encouraged to cooperate."
Joshua pulled his pistol and pointed it at Conrad's head. Both sides grabbed their own weapons in response, pointing them across the space between each other.
"Let's just take it easy now," said Conrad with a casual smile.
"You're going to take us to them."
"Fine by me," said Conrad. "Just realize my superiors may not be as civilized as myself."
Joshua turned to Billy. "You take the three men and a team for security back across the river and report what's happened. I'll take the remaining two squads with me. We'll check in by radio every few hours, so monitor the net. If we're not back in three days, send in the heavy stuff."
"Heavy stuff," Conrad said, looking around at them. "That sounds ominous."
Joshua looked at the enemy soldiers. "One more thing. I want every man of yours to unload his rifle and sling the weapon on his back. They won't be needing their rifles. We'll be there to protect them."
Conrad looked like he wanted to protest, but glanced at the pistol still in Joshua's hand. "You heard him, boys. Unload 'em."
After the men's rifles were unloaded and slung, they assembled in a line. Joshua ordered his men to close in around them. Some were assigned to watch the men and others to guard their perimeter as they marched.
Conrad McKraven watched all with interest. "You ain't half bad at this," he said.
"You have no idea," Billy told him from where he was tending to the three recent prisoners.
"Lead on," said Joshua.
Conrad smiled, did an about face, and began marching west.
Chapter 5 - A Feeling
Nathan drove slowly to conserve fuel and to collect his thoughts. If the WTR had come into Fort Campbell and taken the ammunition and weapons they had been carefully retrieving, they could not let it stand. Part of the recent peace treaty involved the WTR not having any army or heavy armaments beyond what the JP allowed. The raid on Fort Campbell could be in violation of the treaty.
Would the WTR risk that? Could it be someone else? Nathan thought for a few minutes. Not likely, he decided. Butch's report clearly indicated the move was a major operation. No one else they knew of even came close to having the logistical capability.
It made Nathan wonder how the WTR even knew of the caches at Fort Campbell. Could they have simply gotten lucky? It was a military base after all; maybe they didn't know the JP was taking weapons and ammo from there. Regardless, they would be in violation of the treaty. Nathan didn't really believe in coincidences.
He drove through the gate of the giant U.S. Enrichment Company complex, USECO for short. USECO had, since the early days of the Cold War, produced weapons-grade uranium for nuclear weapons and was built to withstand a direct Soviet nuclear strike. Since N-Day, it had been the seat of the new JP government. Like everything, it was slowly being overtaken by kudzu. The vines were believed to grow a yard a day. Without pesticides and constant trimming, they went wild. Nathan believed that in a decade all humanity would be living under a giant canopy of kudzu like in some equatorial rain forest.
Nathan parked. The guards naturally looked his way. Anyone driving an actual vehicle these days had to be important. Nathan recognized the men from Brazen's regiment and realized he had not spoken or heard from the former gang leader in several months. He had expected trouble, but so far, Brazen was the model of a responsible citizen.
The men nodded to him as he walked into the giant earth, steel, and concrete facility. Bright lights lit the corridors on his way to the JP government offices. He avoided the area where the County Executive Council met and another large room for the new Senate, instead making his way back to the presidential offices.
President Campbell's secretary Deidra saw Nathan approach and stopped him with a smile. "Good afternoon, General Taylor. Can I help you?"
"I'm here to see President Campbell," he said.
Her face frowned sympathetically. "Oh, I'm sorry. The president is still out traveling."
Nathan leaned forward and smiled at her. "Did you forget who you are talking to? I know for a fact that he returned last night."
Deidra turned red and dropped her gaze. She looked over at the guard in front of the president's office. "Well...uh...he's not taking any visitors today. Those were his orders."
Nathan sat down on the edge of her desk. "How is your husband doing?"
"Fine, I guess," she stammered, glancing again at the guard.
"I have heard," said Nathan, "that he is the man to go see about getting extra ration cards if you need them. You pay him a little money, and snap"—Nathan actually snapped his fingers—"you have a ration card without all the trouble of dealing with the pesky JP bureaucracy."
Deidra's face now went from red to white. "You can go on in," she said loud enough for the guard to hear.
"Thank you kindly," Nathan said, walking past the guard and into the president's office.
Paul Campbell looked surprised when he saw Nathan, but recovered quickly and, rising, put on a welcoming face. "Nathan, what a pleasant surprise. I wasn't expecting you."
"No, sir," said Nathan. "I just got some disturbing news that I thought you needed to know about."
"Oh," said the president as he sat back down. "Is this month's intelligence estimate going to be as bad as last month? You know it's important we put a good face on things."
"Actually this month's report will be very similar to last month's report, which will likely be similar to next month's report," said Nathan. "My job is to report the truth as I see it. What you do with it is up to you. But that's not why I'm here."
"It's not?"
"No," said Nathan as he pulled Butch's telegraph message from his pocket and slid it in front of Paul Campbell.
He put on his reading glasses and read the report, taking much longer than necessary. "This is unfortunate," he finally said, his hands shaking slightly.
Nathan had expected the president to be angry or confused, but instead he saw nervousness wrapped in a cloak of casual nonchalance. "This means the WTR might have just broken the treaty."
Campbell frowned at Nathan. "I think that's a little bit of a leap, don't you? We don't even know if the WTR had anything to do with this, and even if they did, I'm not sure this is really that big a deal. Don't we have enough guns and bullets anyway?"
On the verge of a sarcastic retort, Nathan took a deep breath to calm himself down. Something isn't right here, he thought. "Sir, it's not so much about what we have—although that is important since no one is making more of those things—but rather what our potential enemies might have to use against us."
"The WTR is now an ally," the president insisted.
"For now," said Nathan, "but that could always change."
President Campbell looked back at his desk and shuffled through some papers. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, General Taylor. Was there anything else?"
Nathan thought about handing the president the intelligence report in his pocket, but some instinct stopped him. Not overthinking the instinct, he said, "No, sir. And to be honest, the loss of supplies at Fort Campbell really isn't that big a deal."
"Oh really," said the president, interested again.
"Yes," Nathan said, forcing a smile. "Our patrols have determined that Nashville's radiation levels are now safe for people, at least for short periods. We can send patrols in there fo
r a few hours at a time without suffering any negative effects."
"Wow," said the president, deep in thought. "So there is a whole city—"
"Just filled with supplies and hard-to-find items," answered Nathan. "Whatever we recover will have to be decontaminated of course, and likely the canned food won't be safe to eat, but there's lots of other things we could use."
The president smiled. "It's like a treasure."
"Exactly," answered Nathan. "I've recommended we leave it alone for now and save it for really hard times."
"Very wise," mused the president. "Good news and a good choice."
"Thank you, sir," Nathan said. "Will there be anything else?"
"No. And thank you for coming by."
"My pleasure," Nathan said as he turned and left the office. If the president found out that Nathan had lied to him, there would be some explaining to do. If his hunch were right, he wouldn't be the only one with some explaining to do.
Nathan prayed he was wrong.
Chapter 6 - Fire of God
Jacob Daniels was disappointed. He had eagerly hoped that being a knight would get him a sword or at least a shield, but instead he had received nothing.
"God's fire in your heart is mightier than any sword," said the Grand Knight. "The order of the Knights of the Apocalypse is your shield."
Jacob nodded eagerly. He believed what the Grand Knight told him. Still, he wanted a sword.
He trudged slowly west down the road. Indications were that many of the guards from Hancock Prison had made it to the Jackson Purchase along with their families. Jacob figured it shouldn't be too difficult to find them and the prison's acting warden. Harold Buchannan was hard to overlook with his missing right eye.
The thought of this made Jacob slip his fingers under the rag tied around his head and scratch. He had wanted to leave the empty socket open to the world. So all could see his worthiness. Unfortunately, he realized that they lived in a fallen world, and the open, wet, still healing socket was a nearly overwhelming attraction for flies, gnats, and dirt.
Looking ahead, Jacob saw another cross street. He had tried to walk around the city of Hopkinsville, but even the outer roads led through suburbs. His flight from Hancock Prison had taught him to avoid habitation if possible. People could be infinitely cruel.
He could sense the four boys were still following him. They were trying to be stealthy, but their constant whispering and clattering of their weapons on the ground gave them away. Whenever Jacob could sneak a look around, he could tell that they were no more than twelve years old at most, dressed in dirty designer clothes, and carrying aluminum baseball bats. The boys were evidently trying to get their courage up for something. Jacob had a pretty good idea what that something was.
Jacob looked back again. They were gone.
He turned back around to find the four boys waiting at the crossroads before him. Jacob was easily six inches taller than the oldest boy, but they were certainly faster. And they had bats. The two youngest looked to be twins. He felt a familiar fear and wanted to cringe before the boys, but then pain flared up like a message in his empty eye socket and he remembered who he was.
"Howdy, mister," said the oldest. He twirled the baseball bat around sideways. "Where you headed?"
"Do not hinder the fire of God," Jacob said as he purposefully walked right at the boys. They didn't expect this and opened up before him. He was in the clear again with the boys behind him.
"Crazy old man," said another boy from behind. "Let's just let him be. I think I know where we can score some food."
"I don't think so," said the oldest again, but in a low serious voice.
This one is going to be trouble, Jacob thought. As if on cue, he felt a sharp blow to his shoulder. It wasn't hard enough to break anything, but it did get his attention.
"Stop and turn around, old man," said the leader.
Jacob sighed and stopped. With infinite slowness, he pivoted around until he was facing them.
The four were arrayed before him. Jacob could see that the twins were at least two years younger than the leader. Another was almost as old, but seemed nervous about the whole affair. Jacob guessed it was he who had made the suggestion to let him go.
"Does it look like we're playing with you?" asked the oldest with a sneer.
Jacob closed his eye and tilted his head back to address the Almighty. "Oh, how long, Lord, will You suffer the iniquities of this world? How long until You unleash your furious—"
A sharp blow to Jacob's stomach silenced him, and he bent over in pain coughing.
"Enough of that shit," said the oldest boy. "What you got on ya?"
"Nothing you'd be interested in," Jacob answered protectively, pulling the small cloth bag at his belt close.
The leader saw it. "Give us that. Come on, right now."
Jacob stepped back and pulled the bag behind his back.
Raising his bat over his head the leader growled at him. "I'll bust your damn head open like a ripe melon, old man. Now give us that bag!"
Jacob sighed, pulled the bag around to the front, and slowly held it out to them.
The leader nodded and smirked. "That's right. You'll give us what we want if you want to keep on walking this earth." He snatched the bag, opened it, and peered inside. His smile vanished to be replaced by a confused look. His eyes then seemed to bulge out of their sockets and the head of his bat dropped down from his listless hand to rest on the pavement. The other three boys moved up to look into the bag.
Jacob moved closer. "There are many who have eyes, yet cannot see. Watch and be ready for the coming of God."
They looked up at him. Even the leader seemed to have a flicker of concern in his face now. It was he who first saw the knife in Jacob's hand.
The leader tried to get the bat up in front of him and back away, but it was too late. Jacob rushed forward and shoved the knife between the ribs of the boy's chest, seeking and finding the heart. Jacob said a silent prayer as he yanked the knife free.
He turned and found the second boy who had urged them to leave Jacob alone standing in stunned amazement. His childish face was slackened, and his mouth kept opening and closing as if he wanted to scream but couldn't.
Jacob swung his arm forward and cut through the side of the boy's neck in one vicious movement. The youngster's hands reached up under his chin to stop the spurting blood as his eyes gazed at Jacob in stunned amazement. Jacob looked up and saw the two twins had dropped their bats and were running. Jacob took off after them.
The twins raced between houses and across a backyard. Even at their young age, they were easily faster than Jacob and would have gotten away except for the fence.
It was a tall wooden barrier, designed for privacy of a backyard pool or the like. Although it stood six feet tall and was beyond the ability of the small boys to leap over, they had plainly planned their escape already. The first boy jumped on the box at the base of the fence, and in one fluid movement, he flipped himself up and over to fall in a loud crash on the other side.
The second boy was right behind him, but hesitated to look back. Seeing Jacob running up with his bloody knife, he turned and climbed up on the box, but his momentum was broken.
Jacob grabbed him by the back of the neck and flung him to the ground. The little boy tried to scamper away, but Jacob knelt down on his chest, putting his full weight on the boy's sternum.
"You leave my brother alone!" screamed a small voice from between the cracks of the fence.
"It is God's will," Jacob told the voice. "I am the fire of God."
With that, he turned the boy's head to the side and pressed down to expose the side of his neck. He then took the knife and slowly cut a thin line across the carotid artery. Blood spurted out quickly onto Jacob, but then slowed to a steady trickle.
"No!" screamed the voice from the other side of the fence.
Jacob pulled the spoon and scissors from his pocket. He turned the boy's face back straight again. The boy s
howed fear and awareness. "It will all be over soon," Jacob said as he bent down to kiss the boy on the cheek.
He then slipped the spoon under the boy's right eye and popped it out of the socket. He opened his mouth to scream, but didn't have the strength and simply gasped. Jacob wiped the spoon off in the grass and put it back in his pocket, using the scissors to cut the optic nerve. The boy actually did manage to scream then.
"What are you doing to him?" wailed his twin.
Jacob cleaned off the knife and scissors and put them back along his belt. He then got off the dying boy and held his new trophy by the severed optic nerve like he was holding a flower by the stem. Turning his back on the twins he walked back out onto the street. As he picked up his bag, he made sure the three eyes that were supposed to be in the bag were still there. He then dropped the new addition into the bag.
He looked down to see that the other two boys were already dead. Jacob preferred to take their eyes while they were still alive. It gave them an opportunity to draw closer to God as he had. Even if they were dead, he knew he should leave the Mark of Wrath for all to see. Besides, the collection of eyes was proof to Jacob that he mattered.
Pulling out his spoon and scissors again, Jacob bent low over the bodies of the two boys.
Chapter 7 - Watching
David Taylor had never been this close to Nashville, and it made him nervous. Fifty miles seemed like a long way, but not when it came to radiation. Whenever they reconned south or east, they avoided the big city. David looked at the radiation detector and then completed a calculation in his head. They were being exposed to only ten roentgens every twelve hours, roughly the same as a full CT scan, but it still made him feel like his skin was starting to burn and itch.
He had arrayed his platoon with a squad along each of the major highways coming from the southwest. In David's opinion, this was a crazy mission. No one in their right mind would venture into Nashville, but his father had been adamant. The fact that the mission came directly from General Nathan Taylor only made it that much more curious.
