Someday Soon

by Brandon Zenner

  Karl knew all of this. The news was a day old. His scouts got too close to the line and were spotted. The western border was lightly wooded after Hightown’s invasion had toppled many of the trees and thicket as its armored division rolled into Alice.

  “They’ll be expecting us,” Karl said, offering Liam news that he already knew.

  “Yes, sir. They will.”

  Despite Liam’s expertise in navigating the vessels, Karl had decided that his second in command was best suited at his side during the battle. Perhaps it was superstition, but the last time they were divided, the fighting did not go in their favor.

  Karl exhaled a large plume of smoke to trail outside the window. In a bag at his side was a bottle of scotch, the foil waiting to be peeled back in celebration. His mouth watered for a sip of the peaty liquor. He longed to feel the sting on his tongue, the warmth spread from his stomach into his head, feet, and hands. He yearned to be sitting beside the reservoir’s edge, in quiet contemplation, washing the blood of his enemies from his hands.

  Hours, not weeks or days. Victory was hours away.

  I’m coming for you, Jeremy Winters. I’m coming for you, Simon Kalispell. With my own hands, I’ll strike you dead, oh Lord, I swear it.

  Karl smiled listening to the buzz of his trailing army, like a legion of monsters called out of the depths to destroy all who stand in their way.

  Alice would be his.

  In Karl’s mind, it already was.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  United Colonies

  It was late as the officers gathered in Alice Elementary School. Simon walked fast down the eerily dark hallways, with only a few emergency lights running and long stretches of shadow in between. His shoes squeaked on the polished tile, and from down the hall he could see the luminous outline of the office’s glass window projected on the far wall.

  He opened the door on a meeting already taking place. A few looked up at him, and he caught Jeremy’s quick gaze before sitting down. Being late for a meeting of this magnitude was unacceptable, and there was only so much that his and Bethany’s despair over Brian’s capture would excuse.

  When this is over, when this battle is won … I’m handing in my resignation.

  He tried to focus on his breathing and listen to the scouts speaking to the gathering of officials, reading numbers and tallies off sheets of paper, but his thoughts wandered to Bethany and Carolanne, the sadness in their eyes, the torture of not knowing their husband’s and cousin’s fate. Was Brian still alive? Did Simon have the capability of sneaking into Hightown? Jeremy would surely not authorize it, but still … could he? So many had died, was it worth risking his life to save just one?

  Simon returned to the conversation, listening to a scout who’d returned from Albuquerque. “There’s no way they’ll send their entire force,” the man said. “Jackson is still with them, so maybe he’ll sway their decision, but while I was there, they agreed to send two hundred soldiers.” The scout speaking, an older man named Glen Spears, had left with two others, traveling nonstop to Albuquerque, carrying the fuel needed for their journey. Glen remained in Albuquerque for a few hours before making the return trip, along with one other soldier, driving as fast as the roads allowed. A relatively straight path was established a year earlier, with stalled automobiles moved aside, and areas of utter destruction marked. The complete journey took under four days.

  Three other scouts had taken a similar journey to one of the other United Colonies, near Gunnison, Colorado. However, they arrived at a deserted location. The long strip of buildings that comprised the territory was reduced to blackened skeletons. Glen told the gathering that the Colorado colony fell during the winter months after succumbing to a massive fire. After a desperate attempt to rebuild, despite the frigid temperatures, the remainder of the citizens migrated south to Albuquerque. A fraction of their numbers survived the fire, starvation, and journey afterwards.

  Jeremy sat at the table, pen in hand but not writing, looking weary. “Two hundred is a good number,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting them to agree to send any aid, so I’m astonished. When will they depart?”

  “They were mustering the convoy before I left.”

  Jeremy rubbed his eyes. “Good,” he said. “That’s good.” Simon wondered if the man had slept at all since the first reports of the Red Hands invading Hightown came in. He hadn’t been home, Simon knew that much.

  “All right,” Jeremy continued. “Sergeant Rayne, you’re up.”

  “Sir,” one of the other scouts said, and tapped his papers together on the table. “Yes, sir. Louisiana didn’t delay. They’ve already sent ships north to our aid. Before I left, they were around the panhandle. I imagine their progress would have them near Charleston at the moment.”

  “What about the fuel convoy?” Lieutenant General Casey Edmunds interrupted. “Hightown had a delivery scheduled that we couldn’t intercept.”

  “There’s been no word, sir. The officials in Louisiana have been trying to contact the vessel as well, and promise to send word once they hear back. It’s gone radio silent.”

  “All right,” Jeremy said. “What numbers are they sending?”

  “Four cruisers,” Sergeant Rayne said. “Equipped with sea-to-land missile systems. The Red Hand’s warship will be no match for them. They’re pledging four hundred additional troops, all onboard the cruisers, with landing vessels.”

  Jeremy sighed. “Things aren’t looking so bad,” he said. “However, there’s no guarantee that we’ll receive any of this backup before the Red Hands attack our line. If they do, we’ll have to hold them back for as long as we can. Has there been any word from California or Texas?”

  There was a moment of silence as each member looked to one another. Texas and California were the largest of all the United Colonies, and maintained an arsenal unmatched by the others.

  Casey Edmunds broke the silence. “Nothing yet,” he said. “We sent our lead engineer, John Zur, to Texas as Hightown fell. I expect we’ll hear back shortly, but I wouldn’t hold your breath. Texas is the rugged individualistic type. And both of the colonies are a long journey away. This is the first time we’ve sent scouts straight to California without a holdover in Albuquerque or Texas. The likelihood of either of those settlements coming to our aid is slim.”

  “So that brings us to a total of six hundred soldiers, an armored wing from Albuquerque, and four cruisers.”

  Casey Edmunds nodded. “The biggest concern we face is our lack of intelligence,” he said. “If the Red Hands strike with the same numbers they maintained when they attacked Hightown, we can be reasonably sure of victory. However, just a few days ago we knew nothing of their reserved army and their ship. Hell, we thought Karl Metzger was dead. We’ve sent small drones for miles around and haven’t found whatever naval yard they came from. There’s no way of knowing what we face.”

  The group was silent.

  Simon wanted to ask what the plan was to rescue Brian, but he didn’t. He knew the answer—there was nothing to do until the war was over. A rescue mission was out of the question. All of Alice was at stake; the fate of one man did not weigh heavy on any of the official’s shoulders. Deep down, Simon believed that Brian was still alive. Jeremy believed it too, and had told Simon as much. There was no practical reason for the Red Hands to go so far out of their way to trap him without some nefarious reason.

  There was nothing Simon could do now, and waiting was torture.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Cutting the Fog

  The bright moon high in the sky projected the outline of the living room window onto the far wall. Carolanne slept soundly on the couch beneath the window, deep in a medicated fog. Winston lay curled at her feet, occasionally letting out a whimper and a muscle twitch as his dreams played out.

  Connor had been granted permission to stay at Simon’s apartment whenever he liked instead of Alice’s orphanage, which consisted of five other children. The boy had fallen asleep on the couch
along with the sleeping household, wedged behind the round side of Winston’s curled back, and his head atop Carolanne’s legs. Simon scooped him up and brought him to his own bed, laying him beside Bethany, whom he was happy to see was fast asleep. She needed it. No one had slept much recently, and she least of all.

  Simon closed the door behind him and returned to the living room. Carolanne woke up with a start. “What’s happening? Has there been any word?” She looked around the room as if trying to decipher where she was. Her hair was flat and matted on the side.

  “Nothing new. Go back to sleep.”

  “I can’t sleep,” she said.

  “Try. Just try. I have a meeting with Richard. We’ll be in the kitchen. You can sleep in my bed if you like. We’ll be quiet.”

  “You have a meeting now?” She looked at the window. “What time is it?”

  “Late,” he said.

  He left fast to the kitchen, not wanting Winston to wake up and start barking when Richard Jarrett came in. He opened the front door, where the second Ranger in command waited with his hands in his pockets.

  Richard entered. From the living room, Simon could hear Winston’s tail beating against the couch cushions. But a moment passed and his dog didn’t muster.

  He’s getting so old, Simon thought. A year ago, he would have come running at the notion of a sound from the front door.

  “Take a seat,” Simon said. “I’ll put coffee on.”

  “Coffee?” Richard said. “Isn’t it a bit late for that?”

  Simon didn’t check his watch. He knew it was well after midnight.

  “Water then?” he asked.

  Richard nodded.

  Simon poured two glasses and sat across the table from his second in command. The man was close to Simon’s own age, just a few years older. His dark hair didn’t yet display the grays that came along with aging, and his muscular form still moved like the wind when out on a hunt.

  “Richard,” he said, looking down at the still water in the glass. “This isn’t easy for me to ask.”

  Richard took a sip and placed the cup on the table.

  “I, well, I’m just going to come right out and say it; I’m not going to stay here waiting while Brian is held captive …” He trailed off, then looked up, catching Richard’s stare. “It’s not fair. It’s just so goddamn unfair. Not only for him, but for his family, Carolanne and Beth. He’s a citizen of Alice, and we owe him at least an attempt of a rescue mission.”

  Richard nodded and tapped the tabletop with his fingertips. “I know how much this ordeal is troubling you, but it won’t be easy getting in. You’ll be risking your own life and the lives of the rescue team trying to save one man, when we’re about to be at war with the whole of the Red Hand’s army.” He paused, and Simon was about to respond, but Richard continued, “Still though, if you say the word, I’ll get a team assembled. We’ll leave before dawn, stake out Hightown’s perimeter, find the best way in.”

  Simon took a sip of water, then said, “No, Richard. That’s not why I asked you here. It’s no secret that I’m at odds with my position in Alice. The rest of the Rangers, except for two or three, Shepard and Jensen, are all military.” He shook his head. “I have no right leading you or anyone else. I’m not a soldier. I don’t deserve to pretend that I am.”

  “Boss,” Richard said, patting his front pocket for his cigarettes. He opened the pack and offered one to Simon, who waved his hand dismissively. He struck a match and tossed it in a trailing descent of smoke in the ashtray on the table, half-full with Jeremy’s cigarette butts. “You need to get over that shit. You’re in charge of the Rangers because of your skill and ability. Because you have something to teach. You know things that the rest of us need to learn in order to survive.”

  Simon wanted to argue that he was largely put in charge because of his performance on Nick Byrnes’s lawn. All of the dead he slayed, shot, hacked into pieces. But he didn’t. “I’m going alone,” he said. “I’m leaving tonight, and I will not risk the lives of anyone else. I’m sorry to put this burden on your shoulders, but I don’t have a choice. You’ll have to lead the Rangers, which you are more than capable of doing.”

  Richard inhaled and let out a large cloud. “I’ll come—just you and me. We can get past the defenses, no problem. Near the water’s edge is my best guess.”

  “No, Richard.” Simon let out a sigh. “You’re needed here.”

  Richard took a last inhale and ground the cigarette out. “All right,” he said, swatting at the trail of smoke. “Do you have a plan?”

  “Other than getting myself behind their line, not really. Either I will—”

  The radio on the table made a squelching noise, and a voice said, “Mister Kalispell, report. Over.” The line was designated for communication to Simon only. Each of the officials had their own frequency, so that they wouldn’t have to sift through the ongoing communications between the various posts.

  Simon picked up the radio. “This is Simon. Over.”

  The voice said, “Report to HQ. Over.”

  Simon looked to Richard. “I’m sorry to place this burden on your shoulders.”

  “Simon, I—”

  “Do you copy? Over,” the voice asked.

  “I copy,” Simon said into the microphone. “What am I needed for?”

  “Scouts report enemy activity, less than a klick northeast. Scouts along the riverbank are reporting the same; vessels approaching. Over.”

  Simon remained motionless, and then he stood. Richard did the same, taking another cigarette out of his pack. Once outside, Simon spoke again into the microphone.

  “How large is the advancing force? Over.”

  “Sir,” the voice said. “Initial reports are in the hundreds, maybe thousands. All scouts north of Alice have been pulled back. Over.”

  Simon swallowed against the dryness in his throat. He was about to speak again, but then the foghorn blared, rattling the dew from the leaves.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Twisting Descent

  Jeremy burst through the door to the office in Alice Elementary School, greeted by the thick aroma of coffee and a fog of cigarette smoke. A few officers looked up as he entered, then cast their eyes back to the maps and ledgers. Casey Edmunds was already there, the collar around his neck unbuttoned. A steaming mug of coffee sat on the table before him. A soldier handed Jeremy a cup, and he stood next to the lieutenant general.

  “Where are they?” he asked, letting the steam meet his nostrils.

  Casey’s finger trailed the map and stopped on a location in the woods above Alice. “Here,” he said. “Scouts report the bulk of the army approaching from the southeast.” His finger trailed along the reservoir, and to the bay leading into the ocean. “Last reports spotted the vessels in the water, going at a slow speed. No doubt to match the army’s progress. By now, they should be along the bank here.”

  “How many ships?”

  “Hundreds. All small vessels, enough to carry a handful of troops each. Here, at Alice’s banks, is where they are presumed to land. If they go any farther the coast grows steep, and we’d pick them off easily from the vantage.”

  Jeremy studied the maps as he pulled a cigarette from the pack with his teeth and snapped his brass Zippo open. Earlier that evening, the first good news in days reached him: forwarding scouts from Albuquerque’s detachment arrived by motorcycle. They were less than a day’s ride ahead of the main force. They came with a full report of the armament, which was impressive. In private, tears came to Jeremy’s eyes knowing that the bonds established at the colony’s beginnings were not cut. A sizable army was coming to Alice’s aid, including three attack helicopters strapped to the back of flatbeds. Jeremy spoke at length with the scouts, and sent one back to give word to the officers of everything learned of the Red Hands up to that point. It was likely their army would arrive in the thick of battle.

  And now, it seemed certain.

  Jeremy glanced at the wall clock abo
ve the door.

  “All we need is time,” he said. “Just a little more time.”

  Casey nodded. “We’ll get some,” he said, pointing to two locations along the Ridgeline River bordering the northern shore of Alice’s perimeter. “Everything’s in place. The men await our command. It should buy us at least a few hours, and halt their progress until Albuquerque arrives.”

  Jeremy nodded. It was all they could do, as futile of a plan as it was.

  “Any word from Louisiana’s frigates?”

  Casey shook his head. “Nothing yet. We’ve been attempting to contact them over the Ham radio, but to no avail. Possible radio malfunction. We’ll try the CB frequencies when they’re within range.”

  “All right,” Jeremy said, grinding his cigarette out in the ashtray. The room was so loud with voices that he didn’t hear the soldier beside Casey was speaking to him.

  “Sir?” the soldier said. Jeremy looked up. “They’re within range, sir. The forward scouts have a visual. What’s your command, sir?”

  Casey looked to Jeremy. “Well,” he said. “Do you want to make the call, or should I take lead?”

  Jeremy pulled another cigarette from the pack with his teeth, and reached out to take the radio.

  ***

  The excitement of the troops’ voices was noticeable radioing in over the airwaves. They were within a mile of Alice, their minds ripe with amphetamines, their bodies eager to surge from their transports and trample down Alice’s gates. Karl had no delusion that their progress went unnoticed. The element of surprise was out of the question. Priest Dietrich sat behind him in the Hummer, muttering his gospel tune.

  “Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the lord;

  He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;

  He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword;

  His truth is marching on.”

  Fond memories of the entourage on horseback crossed his mind, with the Priest singing loud and the men mumbling along as they raided and sacked countless lands. In the back of the Hummer, the song lost much of its might. The confinement was displeasing, and Karl was eager for the battle to be underway and his army to be free of their convoys. The soldiers operated best when out in the open, like one giant living organism hell-bent on consumption.