Pike’s heart hammered violently against his chest.
“My God, you’re alive. How’s this possible?”
Yumi stepped forward and laid a palm against his cheek. Her hand felt warm and loving, like it always had before.
“You can’t be,” he whispered. “You just can’t be,” he said more emphatically, pulling her hand away from his face. “General Carr killed you. I saw your body.” He swallowed again. “Your throat.”
She pulled his hand to her mouth and kissed his fingers.
“What you saw doesn’t change what you see now. Does it?”
The question was far more important than he realized, because in that instant, his mind had to make a decision on whether to accept or reject the impossible. And once made, that decision was binding.
Tears formed in the corners of his eyes.
“You’re here. My God, you’re really here.”
She smiled and kissed his hand again.
“Yes, lover, I’m here.”
Pike rubbed his fingers gently across her soft lips, struggling to make sense of what was happening.
“You’re in my head, aren’t you?”
Yumi stepped closer and slipped her hand down between his legs.
“Does it feel like I’m in your head?”
“No,” he managed in a husky voice. “But how can this be possible?”
She squeezed gently. “You needed me, so I came.”
“Am I going mad?”
She shrugged. “Does it matter?”
Pike shook his head. “Just don’t leave me. Not ever.”
“I’m not going to leave you,” she said softly. “I’m going to help you.”
“Mr. President, did you hear me, sir?” The voice was that of Tom Pinker, the Secretary of Homeland Security. Pinker was a small, serious man with a powerful voice and a stare that kept people talking long past the point when they should have stopped.
In addition to Pinker and President Pike, Jack Fry, the Director of the Federal Emergency Management Agency, General Kent Carr, the Secretary of Defense, and the newly appointed vice president, Andrew Stinson, were at the table.
Pike brought himself back, leaning away from Yumi’s strong hands as she kneaded his shoulders.
“Of course I heard you.”
“Yes, sir. As I was saying, progress continues to be made in establishing the New Colonies.”
President Pike found the term “New Colonies” to be particularly fitting, given that the cities would act in a way much like the nation’s founding colonies. Not only would they provide people with functional cities in which to live, they would also give the government a population to govern. The first three cities being readied for habitation were Olympia, Washington; Norfolk, Virginia; and Denver, Colorado. They were chosen not only because of their geographical diversity but also because together they would allow for ship and rail traffic.
“And when will they be ready?”
“Our best estimates are six weeks for Olympia, two months for Norfolk, and a full four months for Denver. The good news is that everything’s ahead of schedule.”
“There’s no good news to be found here,” said Pike. “The country is a cesspool of crime and violence. All we’re doing is offering a few safe havens in a nation that used to be the most prosperous place on earth.”
“Yes, sir, I only meant—”
“I know what you meant,” Pike said, holding up a hand. “Let’s move on. I’ve asked Vice President Stinson to work with the Treasury Department to reestablish the country’s monetary system.” He turned to Stinson, a pudgy little man whom he found to be not only weak but so thoroughly enamored with his meteoric rise to office that he lived in constant fear of making a mistake. In short, he was the perfect vice president. “Andrew, tell us what’s being proposed.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Stinson said, clearing his throat. “It should be no surprise to anyone that the dollar is no longer considered a viable currency.”
“Explain ‘no longer viable.’”
“Simply put, no one wants to conduct trade using dollars.”
“I thought it was the strongest, most respected currency in the world.”
“The dollar was certainly admired for its stability, but the strength of any nation’s currency is tied to its financial health.”
“Which is currently in the toilet.”
“Uh, yes sir, that’s one way of putting it.”
“Where does that leave us? We’re sure as hell not converting to the yen or ruble.”
“No sir. Those currencies have also been completely devalued. Rather than adopting an existing currency, a consensus has been reached to use a gold-backed currency.”
“Gold-backed meaning what exactly?”
“It means that a nation’s currency supply must have direct traceability to verifiable gold reserves.”
“I suppose I should know this,” said Pike, “but how much gold does the US hold in reserve?”
“Roughly eight thousand metric tons.”
“Is that a lot? Put it into perspective for me.”
“Before the pandemic, each metric ton would have corresponded to about forty million dollars, for a total of roughly three-hundred-and-twenty billion dollars.”
“That’s a fraction of what our national budget was for any given year.”
“Yes, sir, that’s correct. We had moved away from the gold standard back in 1973.”
“In other words, we bookkept trillions of dollars that weren’t backed by anything other than our good name.”
“Correct again.”
President Pike shook his head with obvious disgust.
“Go on.”
“By returning to the gold standard, we could initiate fair trade with other countries.”
“And would every country have its own currency?”
“They could, I suppose, but it appears that most governments wish to establish and adopt a universal currency.”
“Called what exactly?”
“Ooh-ooh,” said Yumi with excitement. “Call it the Yumi. Please, please, please.”
“The currency,” said Stinson, “would be called the gold-backed credit.”
“Ahh,” she moaned.
Pike shrugged. “Not very sexy, but I guess it’ll do. And other countries have agreed to this?”
“Yes, nearly every major nation has already signed on. Of the G-20, the US will be the last one to ratify the agreement.”
“And what about the nations that don’t agree to use the gold-backed credit?”
“They will be forced to establish their own currency that is directly tied to their gold reserves if they hope to conduct international trade.”
“I’m assuming that the gold reserves would be verified?”
“Of course. Processes for verification and currency control are already being drawn up.”
“What about foreign debts?”
“We’ve proposed the clearing of all national debts.”
Pike laughed. “I’m sure we did. And they agreed to that? The Chinese? The Russians?”
“Everyone is looking for some way to jumpstart the world economy. Besides, it’s unlikely that any country would use their limited resources to repay debts at this point.”
“So that’s it? We all start with fresh slates and use our gold reserves to determine our relative financial pecking order.”
“I couldn’t have said it better, sir.”
Pike clapped his hands with excitement.
“I love it. How soon until we can get credits flowing?”
“We’re hoping to have the currency in production by the time the first New Colony comes online.”
“Excellent. So, in six weeks, I will be holding one of these credits in my hands, yes?”
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
Yumi leaned closer and whispered in Pike’s ear.
“He’s a reflection of your office. Don
’t allow him to fail.”
Pike smiled at the man, but it was in no way friendly or comforting.
“I know you’ll do your best, Andrew. I would expect no less from you every single day. But regardless of high tides or strong winds, in six weeks, these credits will be a reality. Are we clear?”
Stinson shifted about nervously. “Yes, sir.”
Pike turned back to Pinker. “Tell me about the situation on our borders.”
“The Canadians are having some success stopping the exodus, but I’m afraid there have been several incidents.”
“What kind of incidents?”
“The kinds of things you would expect when desperate people confront armed soldiers.”
“How many of our citizens have been killed?”
“It’s impossible to say. A few hundred perhaps. It did, however, have the desired effect of discouraging those attempting to flee the US.”
President Pike shrugged. “Let them shoot as many deserters as they need to.”
There was an uneasy shifting at the table.
“Easy, lover,” cautioned Yumi. “They’re not ready yet to see your strength.”
“What about the southern border?” Pike said, making an effort to adopt a slightly softer tone.
“The situation with Mexico continues to worsen. We’ve seen a growing cartel presence in border towns all across Texas, California, and Arizona. The worst incursions have been from the Vega cartel, an especially vicious group of men. If this continues, I expect that some of the border states will eventually be under their control.”
“With an endgame of what, exactly?”
“Power, influence, control—the same as every other warlord. The Vega cartel has a long history of violence and little aversion to using it.”
“Our borders must be protected at all costs.” President Pike turned to General Carr. “What do you need to wipe them out?”
General Carr straightened and met Pike’s stare.
“This particular cartel has grown to about eighteen hundred, all of whom are violent criminals. Of course, we can put together a suitable attack force, but unless we’re willing to cross into Mexico, the best we can hope to do is push them back across the border.”
Pike shook his head. “We do that, and we’ll just have to fight them again in a few months. No, we need to take the fight right up to their dirty little doorsteps, kill every last one of them where they sleep.”
“I tend to agree, but crossing into Mexico would be considered an act of war and thus would require approval by the Congressional Body.”
Both the House of Representatives and the Senate had been decimated by the Superpox-99 pandemic, but a small subset of thirty-two congressmen and women remained. They had since been combined into a single legislative assembly known as the Congressional Body. Because of their limited number, their power had grown considerably. Unfortunately, to date, they had proven themselves indecisive and void of leadership.
“The Congressional Body is a bunch of limp-dicked old men,” Yumi murmured, going back to massaging his shoulders. “You need to do something about them if you ever hope to rebuild this country.”
He reached up and placed his hand on hers. Yumi was the only one who really understood.
“Gentlemen, it’s time we faced the harsh reality of where we find ourselves. We are no longer living in the United States of America. This is a wild frontier. We have enemies pushing in from the south, outlaws terrorizing our citizens, and crazed mutants inhabiting our cities.”
No one offered even a hint of disagreement.
“If we hope to rebuild, indeed, if we hope to survive this apocalypse, we’re going to have to change the way we govern.”
“Mr. President, surely you’re not proposing a military takeover,” said General Carr.
“No, no, nothing like that,” he said, waving it away like the suggestion was preposterous. “I understand the need for checks and balances. What I’m suggesting is that we restructure the authorities granted to various bodies on a temporary basis.”
Carr’s eyes narrowed. “How exactly?”
President Pike sat up straight as if about to bring up a matter of grave importance.
“I’m not going to beat around the bush. You men deserve better than that. The truth is that I want to repeal the War Powers Resolution. Temporarily, of course.”
Jack Fry sat forward, struggling for the right words. Jack was the oldest man at the table, and in many ways the most respected. He sat in a wheelchair, the result of a car crash that had occurred six years earlier. But the chair in no way diminished his influence.
“Sir, the War Powers Act requires the president to seek approval from Congress for any prolonged military action. It has long proven critical in preventing past presidents from conducting military operations that might not be in the nation’s best interest.”
President Pike offered a conciliatory smile.
“I fully understand its importance, Jack. But let’s face it; we don’t have the luxury of such indecisiveness right now. If we delay, we die. And I, for one, love this country too much to let her die. I’m asking for your support on this.” He shifted his gaze to dwell on each man. “All of your support.”
Andrew Stinson was the first to speak up.
“I’ll stand with you, Mr. President.”
“As long as we’re clear about the duration,” said Pinker, “I’ll support it as well.”
Jack sat wringing his hands for a moment before finally acquiescing.
“Given the fragility of our nation, I don’t think we have much of a choice. If we wait for the Congressional Body to approve the actions necessary to instill order, I fear that it will be too late.”
“And you?” Pike said, turning to General Carr. “I know we’ve had our differences, but as the Secretary of Defense, your support is absolutely crucial.”
General Carr’s face betrayed the great struggle within. He knew Pike to be an evil man, one who had ties to a horrible attack against the US Marshals. But even evil men could sometimes be right. Separating the man from the decision was not only difficult, it was also imperative. In the end, all he could manage was a quick nod.
President Pike thanked each of them while doing his best to ignore Yumi’s incessant nibbling on his ear lobe.
CHAPTER
4
By the time Mason, Connie, and Bowie finally got underway, it was already well past noon. Despite Connie’s persistent nudging to get on the road, Mason knew better than to rush out the door unprepared. There was no guarantee when he would return, so he took care in securing the cabin well enough to withstand his absence. He also unloaded the .50 caliber machine gun from the bed of his truck, tucking it safely away inside the cabin. After that, he double-checked his food, water, and medical supplies to ensure they were adequate to support their trip to Ashland as well as his subsequent venture into Lexington.
The drive from his cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains to Ashland was right at three hundred miles, half a day under normal circumstances. But things were anything but normal. Interstates were clogged with abandoned cars and trafficked by violent predators of every shape and size. Mason decided that they would be better off traveling secondary roads, first heading west toward Johnson City and then north up through Kingsport.
He found that having Connie on the seat beside him was a far cry better than sitting next to an Irish wolfhound. She was easier on the eyes, not to mention smelled better. For his part, Bowie never complained, seemingly indifferent to being relegated to ride much of the trip in the bed of the truck.
“I’m sorry about what I said earlier,” she offered.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I hope you weren’t offended.”
He shook his head. “I don’t take offense easily.”
“I suppose that’s a good thing,” she said, glancing down at the Supergrade holstered at his side.
“I
t’s been said that a man who carries a gun should have the temperament of a saint. I can’t claim to have reached that disposition, but I do try.”
“And do you get that even temper from your father? Traits like that are usually passed down. My mother gave me my directness. And this mop, of course,” she said, touching her red hair.
Madness Rules - 04 Page 4
