Children of Wrath

by Ryan King

  "You can't do this," said Butch.

  The state troopers ignored it all and walked him out of the room. Clarence's face was oddly peaceful and calm. As they left, the council chamber remained in an uproar.

  Ethan said something in President Campbell's ear. He nodded and called Brad Williams forward. The two spoke for a moment, and Brad looked surprised, but the president was firm. The president and vice president stood.

  "This council meeting," called out Brad loudly, "is hereby adjourned."

  The two men walked out of the council chamber. The remaining council members murmured and talked amongst themselves, confused and in some cases, outraged. Before they knew it, more Tennessee State Troopers had entered the room and were herding them all out the door, politely but firmly. Many protested, but were ignored.

  Once the council chamber was empty, a trooper ran a chain through the door handles and secured the room with a thick padlock.

  Chapter 5 - Curiosity

  It had seemed like a good idea to bring Jack along with him, but Nathan was beginning to regret it. Things might have been different if they were in a car, but Nathan was riding the motorcycle he had inherited from Conrad and Jack was behind him with their gear strapped further back.

  Nearly falling over and crippling them for perhaps the tenth time, Nathan yelled over his shoulder at Jack behind him, "Have you ever been on a motorcycle?"

  "No," answered Jack. "I like it though. Why don't you let me have a go at driving?"

  "I don't think so," said Nathan. "You really need to lean in the direction I'm leaning whenever we turn."

  "Lean?" asked Jack. "Why?"

  "Because it helps with the balance. Keeps us from falling over."

  "So lean like this?" asked Jack.

  Nathan cut the wheels sharply to keep from falling and looked back to see the old man's body hanging to one side, his long white hair and beard streaming out behind him in the wind.

  "Only when I turn!" yelled Nathan. "You're going to get us killed."

  "Maybe you're just not a good driver," offered Jack.

  Nathan gritted his teeth as they rode northeast. After numerous false turns because of Jack's fuzzy memory and U-turns because of blocked of impassable roads, they stopped at a large field and turned off the motorcycle.

  "You sure this is it?" asked Nathan.

  "Of course I'm sure," said Jack. "Been coming to my uncle's farm most of my life. I could find it in my sleep."

  "That's good," said Nathan, "because you almost couldn't find it awake."

  "What's that?" asked Jack.

  "I said, it doesn't look like anything is buried here."

  Jack pointed to the open field to the front of them. "My cousin Ronnie said they did all that work right there. Strung fences all around the property to keep people from knowing what they were doing. Even made my cousin sign this non-disclosure thing."

  "Good thing he didn't abide by it," said Nathan, looking at the slightly rounded hill in the middle of the field.

  "We both decided they couldn't have meant not to tell family," said Jack.

  Nathan walked forward into the grass of the open area. The opposite tree line was a little less than two football fields away and the whole area was nearly as wide.

  "I don't see a doorbell," said Jack.

  "I'm sure they don't want anyone to know they're here," said Nathan. "If they're down there, I'm sure they're pretty well protected, but if someone was determined, they could get to them."

  "Are you determined?"

  Nathan sighed. "Oh, I'm determined, just not sure I'm able."

  "What do you mean?"

  Nathan pointed to the edge of the mound. "If I had a bulldozer or backhoe, I'd start digging there. You don't happen to have one of those laying around, do you?"

  "No," answered Jack. "Even if we did find one, you know gas is tight."

  Continuing to study the ground, both men walked forward.

  "We could wait 'em out," said Jack. "Just sit in the trees like hunting. They got to come out sometime."

  Nathan shook his head. "I'm not so sure that's true. This thing was likely designed to withstand a nuclear fallout and winter. No one would want to come outside in those conditions."

  "Then how did your boy, assuming he's in there, get inside?"

  "I don't know. I'm not saying we can't get in. There's surely an entrance or two, just not going to be easy to find, and we could sit in the woods waiting for them to come out for weeks or more."

  They walked in silence, looking at the ground that for all the world appeared like any normal field.

  "How you think they get air?" asked Jack.

  "Some sort of filtration system I suppose," said Nathan. "Filter air from the outside and then pump out the old air."

  "Where would they get it from?"

  Nathan held out his hand. "From all the rest of the air. Probably have a vent..."

  "Still going to be hard to find 'em, unless we cut off their air," said Jack. "That would be a mighty strong inducement to come out."

  Nathan looked around. "Too bad we can't flood them out. Only a few inches of water over the ground might be enough, but this is high ground and we have no way to build a dike."

  "You also don't have water."

  "There's that."

  "Why not smoke 'em out?" asked Jack. "We could drag leaves and such over here and set it on fire."

  Nathan rubbed his jaw. "Not a bad idea, but I don't think it would work in this case."

  "And why not?"

  "Because their air filtration system is probably built to take germs and radioactive particles and anything harmful out of the air," Nathan explained. "Smoke wouldn't be any different."

  "Well," said Jack, "I'm out of ideas. This might not even be the right spot."

  "What?" asked Nathan sharply. "You said you could find this place in your sleep."

  "It has been a long time," said Jack, "but I'm pretty sure this is the right spot.

  Nathan grumbled under his breath and kept walking and gazing at the ground.

  "How far down under the ground you reckon they are?" asked Jack.

  "Not sure," said Nathan. "Probably not too far. The dirt and grass is mainly camouflage I'd think. The structure provides the protection and shielding."

  "So maybe we could get some shovels and dig a little hole," said Jack. "Knock on their window. Guarantee someone would look out, if nothin’ else out of sheer curiosity."

  Nathan shook his head and started to say something, then froze. His head turned slowly to look at Jack and regarded him with a smile. "That's brilliant!"

  "What is?" asked Jack.

  Nathan jogged toward the motorcycle. "Be right back. Don't go anywhere."

  "Where are you going?" Jack asked, but Nathan answered by pulling out of the field and down the road they had come up on.

  *******

  Within an hour, Nathan was back. Conrad could see several long pieces of rebar metal running along the length of the motorcycle held in place by twine.

  "I said shovels," Jack grunted.

  "This is better," said Nathan, untying the string and then picking up the lengths of rebar to carry over his shoulder toward the field.

  "Don't know how much diggin' you ever done," said Jack, following along behind, "but I've done my fair share, and every single time shovels were better than sticks."

  "We're not going to dig," said Nathan. "We're just going to knock. Like you said, eventually someone will come to look. Curiosity is just too powerful."

  Jack shook his head and followed Nathan up to the very peak of the hill.

  "Okay," said Nathan, "we'll try here first. Looks like the ground is still soft from recent rain and maybe the ground is thinner up here." Nathan pulled out the shortest section of rebar, about six feet long, and began working it into the ground.

  "Uh, you ain't doin' it right," said Jack.

  Nathan grunted as he twisted and worked the rebar deeper and deeper into the earth. "How
do you know? You don't even know what I'm doing."

  "That may be true," said Jack, "but I know wrong when I see it, and whatever it is you're doing, you ain't doing it right."

  Nathan stopped when he had about two feet of rebar still sticking up in the air. "Must be deeper," he said, working the rebar back out of the earth.

  Jack sat on the ground and looked away. "That's the problem with you younger generations. Just don't listen when someone's trying to help you."

  Picking up the longest piece of rebar he had, Nathan jammed it down in the hole he had just created with the smaller rod. He pushed the bar until it would go no further; about five feet still remained above ground. Nathan then placed both hands on the rebar, lifted it back up, and slammed it down.

  He did this about twenty times before Jack turned to look at him. "Did you hear that?"

  Nathan smiled as he grunted and heaved. "I know."

  A boom now sounded with every down stroke and grew louder as the hole expanded.

  "At least we know we're in the right spot," said Nathan.

  "I told you we were in the right spot," said Jack indignantly.

  Nathan hammered downward with the rod until he grew tired and convinced Jack to take over until he was ready to go again.

  "How long we going to do this?" asked Jack.

  "As long as it takes," said Nathan, slamming the rod down with a loud boom.

  Chapter 6 - The Broadcast

  Clarence found himself oddly at peace when the time came for him to leave his prison cell. He knew it would be for the last time, and he intentionally didn't look back. The Tennessee State Troopers chained his hands and feet outside the cell and then led him out of the jail wing of the Jackson City Court House and out to a police van at the back loading dock. He climbed in carefully with the troopers. After the door was closed, they began to drive.

  He had heard there had been a trial and he had been found guilty of all counts. In a way, it was a blessing he had not been allowed to participate. The perversion of justice would have just tortured him worse than anything they could do to him.

  Laying his head back against the wall of the van, Clarence closed his eyes. It would all be over soon. He could be with his Rita. That's all he had really wanted since she'd died anyway. It was important though that he die with as much dignity as possible. He still didn't know if any of his children or grandchildren were alive, but he thought he would have liked to say good-bye to them.

  The van slowed and then stopped. When the doors opened and the troopers helped Clarence climb out, he was disoriented by the surroundings. They appeared to be in the parking lot of a television station. The police marched him into the front doors, which proclaimed Channel 6, The Voice of the Heartland.

  They rode the elevator to the second floor, and then Clarence was led into a broadcast studio where a grim woman in a pinstripe pants suit met him.

  "Mr. Clarence Anderson," she said with an attempt at a smile. "My name is Eve Shulers. I am the station engineer of Channel Six and will be handling the live broadcast today."

  "What's going on?" asked Clarence.

  "Why you're going to be the star of our show this afternoon," she answered. "There's even going to be a live radio broadcast too. We'll have the widest and largest audience possible."

  Clarence couldn't believe it. "You're executing me live? For entertainment?"

  "Oh, no," said Eve. "That would be crude and distasteful. The broadcast is to show justice and also as an object lesson for others."

  "I see," said Clarence.

  "I am so glad that you finally do," she said with a wicked smile.

  The troopers led him over to a platform indicated by Eve. It was a black stage about three feet tall with a blue background. Clarence wondered what sort of backdrop they would superimpose behind his execution. Pictures of other mass murders? The fires of hell? Puppies?

  They sat him in a chair on the stage. One trooper stayed to watch, but the others backed away to take a break from their grueling day. Clarence looked down and to his right and saw a small trap door. The whole platform smelled of new paint. A set of large studio cameras on wheels sat in front of him.

  A woman moved up onto the stage with a small box.

  "What are you doing?" yelled Eve from across the room at the other broadcast studio.

  The woman froze the box halfway open. "Doing his makeup."

  "He's going to have a bag over his head," she said, and others in the room laughed.

  The woman gave Clarence a weak smile and she skittered away.

  "Okay, people," yelled Eve. "We're about five minutes from show time. Let me go over it again. Chris will do the lead in and history in studio one, seven and half minutes for that. Then Jenny will interview family members of the massacred. That will go on for about fifteen minutes. Remember, lots of tears and sadness to build the suspense. Then we'll cut to General Anderson. By then, he will be standing and ready to go. We'll then play the recording of Vice President Ethan Schweitzer reading the verdict and then...well, then we do it. Any questions?"

  "Don't forget clean up," said Clarence loudly. "And body disposal. It's always the little things that bite you in the ass."

  "Yes." Eve smiled without humor. "Unfortunately, this entire affair is cleaning up after your sad pathetic little life that has harmed so many."

  "Wow," said Clarence. "I can tell you've just been waiting for an opportunity to say that. I'm not sure if the cameras got it. If you want to, we can do all that again."

  Eve actually stuck her tongue out at him and then turned back to studio one.

  Clarence shook his head and waited.

  "One minute, people," Eve called as she ran over and pointed at the guard behind Clarence.

  He felt something going around his head and into his mouth. He started to protest, but the gag made talking impossible.

  Eve winked at him. "Can't have you disrupting the proceedings, now can we. Today is not about you." She spun and raced back to the other studio.

  Clarence watched from a distance and heard the dramatic monologues comparing him to some of the worst murderers in history. He then heard the tearful cries of grieving family members, many of which screamed at him from the other room. At some point, Clarence tuned it all out, so he was surprised when the original four guards were back and lifting him to his feet. A black hood was pulled down over his head and his ankles were bound together.

  Eve's whispering voice was suddenly in his ear, "Ethan wanted me to let you know that your protégé, Beau Myers, has been relieved of his duties until an investigation can be conducted into his role in the Fulton Massacres. He is confident that justice will be served and the young man's punishment will match the crimes, especially with your compelling testimony against him. Well done."

  Clarence closed his eyes, knowing there was nothing he could do. The troopers manhandled him over above the trap door, and then placed the noose on his head, tightening the knot in back. The slack in the rope above was taken out, lifting him up on his toes and causing his struggles to stop.

  "Clarence Anderson," Ethan Schweitzer's voice filled the studio. "You have been found guilty in a court of law of war crimes against humanity. Your actions at the Battle of Fulton in ordering the executions of dozens of unarmed, wounded, and defenseless soldiers was against every rule of war and common decency. You have been sentenced to hang by the neck until dead. May God have mercy on your soul."

  Clarence's feet settled to the floor, and he could feel slack in the rope about him. He noticed he was trembling; he couldn't help it. He was filled with adrenaline. He hoped anyone watching didn't mistake it for fear.

  The surface under his feet suddenly disappeared and he felt himself falling. He knew it couldn't be too far, and then it would snap his neck.

  Falling.

  He thought of his military career. All the good times and the bad. All the places he had fought and the soldiers he had lost.

  He thought of his children and grandchildre
n as they were the last time he had seen them.

  He thought of his friends in the JP and what they had accomplished.

  He thought of Rita, his soul mate. The only woman he had ever loved.

  He stopped falling with a jerk and a snap.

  Chapter 7 - Farewell

  Even from his cell, Joshua could tell there was pandemonium inside Genesis. Not only could he hear the steady boom on the top of the great open area, but the normally tranquil facility was filled with cries of confusion. The sound of flapping bare feet could be heard down every hallway.

  "Hey," yelled Joshua, "anyone out there?" He looked over at the other cell out of habit. Henry had been in there until the day before yesterday. Then, he had promised not to try to escape and to be a model Genesis resident.

  "Anyone? Anyone out there?" cried Joshua.

  One of Kenneth's young teenage assistants, Evan, trotted into view from the office at the head of the hallway.

  "Shush," he said. "Do you want them to hear?"

  "Who to hear?" asked Joshua. "Hear what?"

  Evan huffed at Joshua, "I don't know! Just be quiet."

  "What is that noise?" asked Joshua.

  Shaking his head, Evan moved in closer. "No one knows. The hall reps are meeting with Meryl now trying to decide what to do."

  "Got to go outside and see what it is," said Joshua.

  "No way," said Evan. "Whatever it is, it’s bad news. We should just stay in here and ignore it. That noise could be anything."

  "Like a monster?" asked Joshua.

  "Very funny, but seriously, it could be bandits or someone just waiting for us to open up so they can kill us."

  "It could also be something simple," said Joshua. "Maybe even benign."

  "You're new here," said Evan, "so I don't expect you to understand, but everything out there is bad."

  Joshua smiled. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous that is?"

  "Is not," said Evan. "We're safe in here. Got all we need. No one hurts us or messes with us. Can you say the same out there?"

  Joshua thought for a moment and then shrugged. "Still could be nothing."