Kingdoms of Sorrow

by JK Franks

  The rechargeable battery inside was dead. They had recovered two large twelve-volt marine batteries from the boat hauls, but they were also both dead. Scott began to consider the problem. “Two possibilities I can think of. One is to come up with a way to recharge the batteries. The other is just to generate electricity.”

  “You make that sound so simple,” Skybox added with more than a hint of sarcasm.

  “Well, neither process is overly complicated, and we don’t need much in the way of voltage. I could generate electricity with the wind, or even the water current. I just need a magnet and some copper wire. The problem is getting the voltage right. It would be trial and error. I don’t think the radio would survive that. It needs twelve steady volts.

  “We have three batteries capable of making that, so I think the smart move is to come up with a way to recharge the batteries. For that, I may still need to make a generator or . . . or perhaps I can just use salt water. That would be safer, but slower.”

  Scott got started assembling what he needed: screws, strips of bare metal, some plastic cups lined up in a row. He also stripped all the electrical wire from beneath the console of one of the boats. Skybox watched the process intently. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Cut the wire into lengths about fifteen inches long. Strip the plastic covering back all the way and twist the wire tight so it doesn’t separate. I think we’ll need twenty—maybe thirty pieces of wire. Once you’re done, wrap the wire around the metal screws like this.” Scott held up one he had already done.

  Skybox got busy while Scott went to mix the saltwater solution. The seawater would have impurities, but he couldn’t bring himself to use the fresh stuff they had found. Filling up a large bucket of seawater, he added more salt from the bag until he guessed it had the right level of salinity.

  He poured the salt water solution into the row of cups. He also pulled a light from the side of one of the boats, which would allow him to know when he was at or above the right voltage. Skybox had the screws prepared and draped them over the edge of the cups, one screw in each. “There is no way this will work, Scott.”

  “Have faith,” his companion said. “Electricity is essentially just electrons moving from one spot to another. We just have to coax them along a bit.” He attached two leads coming off the signal light to two primary wires that went to the cups. The little green light began to glow very faintly. “Voltage is a little low, we need a few more cups of water.”

  “Holy shit, that’s amazing.” Skybox was very impressed. In short order, they had assembled twenty-eight cups in two rows, and the light was glowing steady and bright.

  Scott looked up triumphantly. “Nerds everywhere, rejoice! Okay, I just need to watch this for a bit to see how long it takes before the electrolyte—the saltwater—is neutralized. Then I’ll know how often to change out the water.” The light started to dim after about fifty minutes. “We have our baseline now. Let’s start charging the smaller radio battery first. I’m afraid the deep cycle marine batteries will take days to charge at this speed.” They refilled the cups and removed the light from the leads, replacing it with the radio battery.

  “We have a few hours before it will be strong enough to test. I don’t know that it will run long, but who should we try and contact?”

  “You probably won’t like it, but I think we should try my people. They have a lot of assets in the Gulf and a large contingent around Tampa, which is likely where we’re headed.”

  “Yeah . . . Tampa . . . we should probably talk about that,” Scott said with an edge of remorse. “Last year, right after the solar event, Todd encountered a Navy fleet heading toward Tampa. Later we learned they were firing on an area of MacDill Air Force Base where many of the Grayshirts—sorry—the P-Guard were based.”

  Skybox looked pale. “Shit. All of Praetor 5 is based out of there. Still, should be able to reach someone. I can’t imagine them not having assets still active.”

  “Works for me, we’ll try them first,” Scott answered.

  “Scott, why is the Navy doing this, why do they hate the Guard? Shelling a domestic military base, a university—man, it’s fucked up! Are they trying to overthrow what’s left of the country?”

  Scott thought about it. He was one of the few people who knew a little about both sides of this covert war. “Honestly, Skybox, just the opposite. They think they’re preventing you guys from doing exactly that. You both—I mean, the Navy and the Guard both seem to want very similar things. But they see the Guard as a military coup, a shadow government only out for themselves. They feel they have to defend the Constitution and the ideals of what is the US.”

  “I guess I can see that we don’t present the warm and fuzzies to anyone. And if someone pokes us with a stick, we do tend to eradicate them from the face of the Earth.” Skybox looked back out to sea shaking his head. “Do you have any idea how much of the Navy is left?”

  “Honestly, I don’t, but I’m not sure I would share that with you if I did. I know much of what’s left is involved in an operation called Homefront, though I have no idea what that is. How much of the Guard is left?”

  Skybox shook his head. “I imagine a lot, but probably far less than the Navy. Honestly, it’s never something our command level shares. We see many of the same faces on our deployments. Platoon strength at most. I do know that in the past year we’ve had significant casualties. My entire Talon Battlegroup is just one example.”

  Scott thought about all he had heard. He reached to an overhead rack and pulled down an old fishing rod and reel. He checked the line and fastened a hook to the end. “Do you think there’s any way for the two groups to ever work together, or at least leave each other alone? The Navy just seems to be concerned with protecting the people and maintaining some level of Constitutional Rights. Your P-Guard is essentially interested in saving the species by protecting the best and the brightest people. Those are not mutually exclusive goals.”

  Skybox mulled it over. “Maybe. Our leadership is, well…challenging to have a dialog with. We’re tasked with a very specific mission: combat and remove significant physical threats against the US, emerging democracies and our aligned nations. We stay in the shadows and help take out the trash. The Navy, well, the Navy is a fiercely independent military branch, always has been, but yes, you are right, we need to end this conflict, assuming we can get out of this, that is.”

  Chapter One Hundred Four

  It took several attempts before they got the right balance of cells and saltwater to charge the battery sufficiently. They used the time to fish using bits of turtle jerky and sardine. They managed to catch several small fish and one large dorado, which put up quite a fight.

  The pair erupted into cheers when they finally got the radio to work. Scott went to build a small fire and prepare the fish while Skybox started making calls on the newly charged radio. Scott could hear him switching efficiently between frequencies and making a general mayday call.

  Scott built the fire from broken off pieces of shed roof on an old metal cooktop. By rigging up the cooking rack from the small oven as a grill, he placed the fish above the flames to cook. He added the only seasoning he had: salt.

  “Damn, that smells great,” Skybox said walking over with a big grin.

  “Mahi-mahi if you were ordering it in a restaurant,” Scott said. “So, you reached someone.”

  The soldier broke off a slightly charred piece of the white, flaky fish and crammed it into his mouth. Between the noises of appreciation, he replied: “Yeah, I reached someone. They got my call sign and general location. Said they would confirm and call back in an hour on our backup frequency. We have time to eat.”

  An hour later, both men were stuffed from overeating. Their limited diet over the last week had not prepared their bodies for the day’s bounty.

  “Oh, my God, I am in pain,” Skybox groaned.

  “Tell me about it. Fuck.”

  Despite that, both men perked up at the recollection
of the half-bottle of bourbon. “Just one,” Skybox said. Scott nodded in agreement and poured. Then poured again.

  At three, he capped the bottle and returned it to the shelf. “Shame I had to be adrift at sea to discover the wonderfully complex qualities of cheap whiskey.”

  “Amen to that, Scott.”

  “I would say we are three sheets to the wind, except we have no sheets . . . or wind.”

  “Nonsense, Scott, this fine vessel has all we need. It’s a good night here on the USS Pile-o-Junk.”

  Scott grinned. “Unless your Praetor friends decide to shoot or imprison me when they rescue us.”

  “You’ll be okay, friend, they’re decent people. And they have a deep sense of honor and brotherhood. They will know you saved my life. They’ll take care of you just like they did my friend Tommy. They didn’t have to take such good care of him, but they chose to because it was right.”

  Perhaps it was the whiskey or his jubilation or the fact that the certainty of death had been briefly pushed aside, but Scott had a moment of clarity. “Skybox, this is going to sound crazy, and I have no idea why this has only just occurred to me, but Tommy is alive, and I am pretty sure I‘ve met him.”

  Skybox had been reaching for the bottle again but stopped. “That’s not funny, man, whatever the punch line is, keep it to yourself. I don’t joke around about him, he deserves better.”

  “No, no, hear me out. Listen, you said he was in a chopper that crashed near the coast. A chopper that had Gia’s family aboard—a little girl. That he has a head injury. It would have happened around the end of last year.”

  Skybox thought briefly then nodded, genuinely interested now.

  Scott told the story of how he and his niece had encountered the injured vet that morning in the yard of his cottage. “He was like a statue for hours . . . he had a girl’s ribbon in his hand. Could have been from Gia’s daughter. Kaylie treated his wounds. He had a hospital bracelet on. We were about to take him into town—to the clinic since we had no idea what else to do for him—when the guy just up and vanished. We looked for him, but it was like he was never there.”

  Skybox was leaning intently toward Scott by now, and he tried to contain his emotions, but the possibility that Scott was talking about Tommy was too much for him to remain calm about. “That sounds a lot like him . . . but that was months ago . . . from what you told me, it would be unlikely that he’s still around, even if he was still alive.”

  “That’s just it, though—Kaylie talked to my friend Jack about it. She said she had glimpsed someone on the beach, and that others had been describing a mysterious man who’d been lurking around for months. She said it sounded a lot like the man we saw that day. The locals have taken to calling him the Ghost.”

  “The Ghost?”

  “Yeah, he just appears and disappears like a ghost or something.”

  Skybox stood. It was time for the call. “No matter what else happens, we are both going to Harris Springs, Mississippi. I need to see for myself.”

  Chapter One Hundred Five

  Harris Springs, Mississippi

  The storm had raged for an hour longer, but finally, the winds began to ease off. Angel and Roosevelt had helped Jack to the sickbay, and she had not left his side since. Kaylie and one of the other medics tended to him carefully: they wrapped his chest tightly, put a boot splint on his broken ankle, and gave him medicine for the pain.

  The other beds were all occupied, but the AG community had fared much better than expected. Bartos was on the next bed over from his friend, eyes open and wearing a silly grin. His head was bandaged.

  Jack looked over at him when he came round. “Cajun, what happened, you bump your head?”

  Bartos turned lazily to look at Jack. “Hello, Padre, didn’t think you would make it over to the spa today. You’re getting the mineral wrap I see. Good choice.”

  “What’s wrong with his voice? He sounds like a New Yorker.”

  Kaylie laughed. “We don’t know. He took a really hard blow to the head, and he’s been talking crazy ever since. It should pass. In the meantime, it seems there’s a lot more to Bartos than he ever let on.”

  Jack leaned over and patted his friend’s hand. “Hang in there, brother, I think we actually won this round. It cost us, a lot, but we’re still here. You did good, my friend. Everything you planned worked.” He recalled something. “By the way, Kaylie, I met your ghost. In fact, he saved my life.”

  She looked confused. “Wait . . . so he’s real? Is it the same guy Uncle Scott and I saw in the yard of the cottage last year?”

  Jack nodded. “Seems like it. He’s very real. I’m not sure if he’s the same guy, but it sounds like he might be. He and Mr. Roosevelt here have been hanging out.”

  The old man gave one of his trademark chuckles. “Oh, he’s aight. Sorry, miss, name’s Roosevelt, Roosevelt Jackson. He comes by an’ I feeds him sometime. Never speaks, not sure he can no mo’, but I see’s what’s inside, I do. We decided we might betta come to town, dat storm looked bad. By da time we got here, dis boat was shut up tight. He didn’t seem like he wanted to come inside no how. I don’t think he likes to be closed in anymo’. Anyhows, me and the shadow man went on over to one da stores I use’ to shop at. Jus’ happ’d to be there outta da storm when dem bad men showed up. We hid at first, but Ghost sho’d dem though. Never seen a person move like dat. Nope, never have.”

  Jack leaned over and gave the man a hug. “Thank God y’all were there, brother.”

  “Oh yeah, da good Lord knows where Roosevelt need to be. He always lookin’ out for dumb animals like us.” With that, he gave a deep, genuine belly laugh that had all of them chuckling.

  “You got that right, friend.” Jack sighed and leaned back in relief.

  Todd looked out at the view. There were bodies as far as he could see. Bobby and the younger Garret had joined him on the bridge. The storm was finally heading inland and diminishing in strength.

  While Bobby wasn’t fully healed, increasingly he was finding his strength; taking his vengeance on Michael seemed to have renewed him. “Cap, that’s not the face of a man who just won the war. What’s wrong?”

  Todd shook his head then broke his stare from the tableau outside the windows. Scott was right; this world just kept spiraling downwards. One fucking thing after another, after another. “I’m just not sure . . . I’m just not sure it’s worth it. Bobby, you look out there and see the enemy. You have a right to hate them, they took so much from you. I . . . I just see the bodies of poor misguided souls. Teachers, mechanics, truck drivers, businessmen. People so desperate to survive, so hungry that they followed a lunatic to the very ends of the Earth. That doesn’t mean they were bad people. He thought back to losing Liz, so glad she was no longer around to see all this. The fetid brokenness of who I once was is now reflected back at me in this broken place I now live.

  Bobby nodded grimly. “Todd, it’s our choices and our actions that define us. They made their choices. They were bad people, Todd, trust me. Anyone in that group with any good in them at all didn’t make it this far. You are a good man, but you just can’t save everybody.”

  Todd gave a mirthless laugh. “Damn, you do sound like your brother.” He turned to the other man who had remained silent. “Lieutenant, your father let me down. Correction: let us down. I trusted him to honor his agreement to protect us, and he didn’t.”

  “I understand, sir. I am sorry. I do believe he would have if it had been possible. You know how much the storm limited our operations.”

  “Yes, I know. But he could have provided more men or firepower before then. He gave us the barest of assistance. Don’t get me wrong, I thank God you and your men were here. I appreciate that, and you’re welcome back anytime. I just expected more from him . . . from the Navy.”

  Garret gave a brief smile. “It would have been nice to have had more. A few belt-fed fifties would have been a good deterrent. But your people fought well. I’m not sure we could have come
up with a better plan. That was a very unconventional force out there, not the Navy’s typical battle. Also, I am not my father. I can’t speak for him. I do know this other operation has much of his attention right now. Well, that and the losses we took at Devil’s Tower.”

  “Yeah,” Todd nodded. “What exactly is Operation Homefront?”

  Garret looked unsure if he should answer. “I—I don’t know a lot of the details, sir.”

  “Go on, paint it with big strokes then.”

  The young man thought on it for several seconds before reaching some conclusion. “It’s an act of repatriation, sir. Mostly pitched as a humanitarian mission. Bringing troops and equipment from foreign soil back to the US. They’re also bringing families and any expats that want to come.”

  Bobby spoke up. “I hear a but in there. What’s the secondary mission, Lieutenant?”

  "It’s not secondary sir, it is actually the primary mission. Yes, we want to bring US troops back to America, but, well, it’s no secret that the domestic military bases have been oddly silent since the CME. Many smaller bases were abandoned completely, but others, other large bases, should have been active. We know many still have full or nearly full complements of manpower and electricity, but we believe they are being directed by members of Praetor using the Catalyst protocols as a type of executive order. Could even be the president is still issuing actual executive orders we suppose. In doing this, they have at their disposal a large, standing army to back up the Praetor teams.”

  Todd was puzzled. “I assumed all the military would have gone back to their own families by now. But . . . so you’re bringing more of them here? Wouldn’t that just add more strength to the Catalyst plan?”

  “The higher-ups don’t think so. Everyone coming back in our ships will hear and see the full story: everything that has gone on in America and all the shit that Catalyst didn’t try to prevent. Once here, they’ll be based at Naval bases up and down the coast. From there, we believe they can make contact with their fellow soldiers and hopefully convince them to join in the fight to save America.”