Someday Soon

by Brandon Zenner

  We’re going to win … we’re going to win this battle …. The urgency to attack now became pressing. I’ll find you, Brian. Dead or alive, I’ll find you.

  “Here’s the thing,” Jeremy continued. “The first stage will be a two-pronged attack, eliminating their navy while striking Alice at the same time.”

  “All right,” Simon said.

  “It’s been decided and voted on that the only way to eliminate the Red Hands once and for all is to make a large and sudden all-out bombardment of Alice and Hightown now, while the officers and the bulk of their army are stationed together.”

  “What do you mean by all-out bombardment?”

  “Simon … we’re writing the zones off.”

  “Wait—you’re doing what? What about the prisoners, what about Brian?”

  Jeremy held his palm out. “You have to understand that this is not an easy decision.”

  “But still, it’s a decision that you made—all of you.”

  “And that’s why I asked you to stay. We’re—” He paused, grounding out his cigarette. “We’re friends, Simon,” he said while rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Everything that we fought for, everything Tom Byrnes and General Driscoll did to ensure our colonies’ safety, it’s over. If we made a tactical assault, more of our people would die—hundreds, thousands. The ones held captive would be bartered with and executed. As of now, there’s no reason to believe Brian has been moved to Alice, if he’s still, well …”

  “Alive?”

  Jeremy cleared his throat. “Yes, Simon. If he’s still alive. After the planes eliminate Alice’s defenses, the army will deploy in mass. The air force will land to rearm, and then the assault on Hightown will begin in earnest. The colonies sent up drones, searched for miles, and we’ve come across a naval yard far to the north where we believe their warship came from. And there are other lesser-manned posts, such as Odyssey in the south. One by one, they will all be destroyed, until every Red Hand is eradicated. But tonight … tonight, the bulk of their army will be crushed.”

  “What about Alice? Our home? We’re just going to burn it all to the ground and walk away?”

  “Our people are invited to help populate the other colonies. Albuquerque has suffered a great deal of causalities; I expect the bulk of our numbers will end up there. But that will be decided on later.”

  “We’ve lost so much already to just let Alice fall.”

  “Simon.” Jeremy pulled another cigarette from the pack and checked his watch. “We need to get moving. The army will be marching as the first planes drop their missiles. Listen, in war sometimes, you lose a battle. Again, I know this isn’t something you’ve experienced. As for the soldiers, the ones who have been fighting since the disease first came around and Chicago was decimated with a nuclear strike, we’ve been waging war since the beginning. We’ve won some battles. Many we’ve lost. One day, we’ll reestablish the Zones, but for that to happen, the Red Hands have to be wiped out. Eliminated.”

  “Jeremy.” Simon shook his head, feeling anger rise. “I can’t accept this. I can’t let Brian and all the captives be killed by our own bombs. They are members of our colony, our family. They’ve dug trenches, planted in the gardens. Put yourself in their shoes. Imagine your friends and allies giving up on you.”

  “We will do everything we can to save captives. The police departments will be spared from the bombardment. We will attempt to rescue any prisoners there. But my guess is that the captives will be moved to the line, used as shields to help persuade us to stop the air assault. There is little we can do.”

  Simon’s heart was beating so fast that his vision pulsed red.

  “And you’re okay with this?”

  “No, Simon, I’m not.” Jeremy rubbed his weary eyes and continued, “Alice is no longer, and everyone will have the opportunity to do and go where they choose. I’m giving you the option now. You don’t have to fight if you don’t want to. Or if you prefer, you can be stationed with the ground assault which will liberate the police barracks. I hope to see you on the other side, but if you decide to leave, then this is goodbye.” Jeremy reached out to shake.

  Simon felt a spike of adrenaline as he met Jeremy’s hand. He could leave. He could take Winston and go back into the wild, to forage and travel, grow old in the forests and parks. But Connor and Carolanne … Bethany … What would she choose if given the same opportunity? She’d fight. She will fight. Even if Simon left, she would fight, at least to determine her cousin’s fate.

  “Jesus,” Simon said. “How about you give me one of those cigarettes you’re famous for sharing?”

  Jeremy laughed and took two from his pack, striking open his brass Zippo.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The Shadows

  The evening turned homes into shadowy figures, and trees into dark dancing patterns. Brian sat on the front steps of a home and peeled back his socks, now much dryer. His heels were a mess. Using strips of cloth cut from the blanket, he wrapped his feet as best as possible before tying up the laces and getting back on the road.

  Hours earlier, he’d come to the bank of the Ridgeline River. It didn’t take long before the destruction of recent battles became visible. First, the trees bordering the road leading to the bridge were splintered, and thin ones were fallen over or missing large portions. It was eerily quiet, the only sound the melodic wind playing with the leaves. A few steps onward, he came upon a half dozen vehicles riddled with bullets or blackened by exploded shells. Bodies were left where they fell, some missing parts, others in vigorous stages of rigor mortis, stiff as the fallen branches.

  Brian looked past the carnage to the bridge itself, and in the dim evening light saw the twisted metal frame jutting out over the water several feet, where it ended.

  He continued parallel to the river as it grew darker, using the water as his guide. He crossed backyards, around fences, patches of woods, and overgrown parks, with idle swings and playgrounds overtaken by vining plants. He tried not to compare this current journey with the one taken from Nelson to Aurora, but nonetheless, he did. He was healthier this time around, despite his aching feet. His determination was set in stone, just like last time, only now something felt different. He wasn’t traveling out of duty to complete the task Uncle Al had bestowed upon his shoulders. There was more now, an aching, terrible sense of love and loss. A deep affection for the people in Alice and Hightown, and of course Carolanne and Bethany. Did they make it out of Alice before it fell?

  It was agonizing knowing everything he valued in the world might be wiped away. What would he do? He couldn’t think about it, yet the thought crossed his mind in unceasing intervals. Jump in the river at the highest point, he thought, envisioning the swift plummet into the water. Shoot myself under the clear morning sky. Maybe travel to Albuquerque … to do what? Start over again, fight the Red Hands next month, next year, forge new relationships and lose them again …

  The next bridge was intact, with a few bodies on either side, and two broken-down vehicles. Hundreds of spent bullet shells twinkled in the moonlight, and he nearly slipped on them as he walked across to the opposite bank. Far in the distance came a powerful noise: thunder. A deep roar, high in the clouds and off to the east, possibly over the water. Alice wasn’t far now. And when he got there, what would he do? Had it really fallen to the Red Hands? Was Jacob telling the truth?

  The thunder didn’t take a moment’s pause, but at least for now, the sky was a clear and dazzling display of stars in such quantity they would be impossible to count.

  There came another noise, something moving … many things moving.

  He dropped to his knees and crawled to the side of a house, pressing his back against a wall. Footfalls. A lot of footfalls. He breathed in, tried again to remember Simon’s mantra. Breathing in … just keep breathing in, out, breathe out, you dumb bastard … His heartbeat steadied, but Brian knew the mantra had nothing to do with this. The answer was far more nefarious: he was becoming accustomed t
o war. He was familiar with confrontations, shooting and killing. The thought was troublesome, but he’d have to reflect on it later.

  He craned his neck around the edge of the building, and with the land candescent in pale form, he first saw three and then four, and then a dozen men walking out in something of a line, all carrying rifles, the moon casting crescent illuminations atop their helmeted heads. He studied them as they neared his side, going in the direction of Alice. He looked for the red handprint, but couldn’t decipher anything. They were passing now, their backs to him. Three were visible as the others went around the side of the neighboring home. Then there was more noise, footfalls, on his opposite side. He stared straight ahead at the road, and more dark silhouettes crossed from the neighboring property to the street. One was close, a yard or two away. The make of the man’s sidearm was decipherable from the handle alone.

  His pulse was beating fast now. In a few steps, he could be at the man, or the man could be at him. None of the soldiers spoke, and they walked cautious of the terrain, scoping out the area, like dark apparitions. The soldier’s uniform appeared neat, his gear organized, with pouches attached to his belt and vest. His clothing wasn’t pieced together like the Red Hands’, which belonged to various branches of military and civilian attire.

  The words came so quick and quiet, he wasn’t sure he spoke them at all. “Don’t shoot,” he said. The man froze midstep, looking around in the shadows, and snapped down a night-vision scope attached to his helmet. “Don’t move,” the man said in a whisper after spotting Brian, and pointed his rifle.

  Brian lifted his hands shoulder height. “You’re from Hightown, aren’t you? I recognize your uniform.”

  “Who are you? Why are you out here?”

  “I’m Brian Rhodes. I was the sous chef in Hightown under Chef Remo for a duration, then transferred to Alice.”

  “Brian?” the man said, flipping up his night-vision scope and taking a step closer. Two more forms appeared, stepping cautiously toward him, rifles raised. “I’ll be damned. I remember you from the kitchen. What the hell are you doing out here?” He lowered his weapon and motioned for the approaching men to do the same.

  “It’s … a long story. Have you seen Carolanne and Bethany? How’s Simon Kalispell?”

  “Haven’t seen Carolanne. Simon’s alive, I hear. Not sure. He’s not in charge of the Rangers anymore, I can tell you that. Listen, you need to move back to the HQ, fast.”

  “Did Alice really fall?”

  “Not for long. We’re scouting ahead, looking for booby traps mostly, explosives in the road. Before morning, the Red Hands will be nothing more than dust.”

  “What—how?”

  “Texas, California—they’ve brought thousands, full armored divisions.” His voice rose a pitch, then he continued in a whisper, “They’re coming up two clicks in the rear. I’ll radio ahead, make sure no one fires at you. Head due west. You won’t be able to miss them.”

  “You’re attacking tonight? Holy shit … there’s a storm coming in from the east. Be careful. You can hear the thunder; listen.”

  They were quiet for a moment, then one of the soldiers standing in the rear said, “We got to keep moving.” The man nodded in response and said, “That’s not thunder. It’s a different kind of storm. Take care, Brian.”

  Brian stood and watched the man walk across the street, whispering into his radio as he crossed. Now standing and looking over a fence between the properties, it was easier to witness the line of soldiers crossing from one side of the road to the other. Dozens were coming out of the shadows, silent and cautious. Brian shouldered his bag and turned west.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Locked Away

  Alice fell just as Karl had expected. Fear more than anything else pushed the lousy peasants to flee. Thanks was given to Louisiana’s fleet, whose missiles instilled panic and confusion. Invisible until detonation, loud and proud upon impact.

  As the citizens fled from Alice, leaving it high and dry, Karl issued the command for his men to arm the defenses. Looting was fine, but the normal degree of celebratory damage was halted. The same went with executing the prisoners. Less were captured than expected, and those still alive would be needed to work the gardens and repair the trenches.

  The decision to not follow the fleeing soldiers weighed heavy. The men would sleep sounder knowing their enemies were vanquished into oblivion, yet at this juncture, Karl went against his overwhelming desire to chase and cut down the escaping residents without discrimination. They had no hope of issuing a counterattack that would break the defenses, even if they marched all the remaining residents from Albuquerque along with the army. Their numbers were depleted, and the warships anchored offshore maintained an arsenal of long-range missiles, capable of hitting Alice’s border and beyond.

  The bodies of Jeremy Winters and many of the ranking officers, including Simon Kalispell, were not yet found. Deciphering and numbering the dead would take more time, but it was possible their corpses were yet to be discovered. At the present, Karl had to believe the enemy’s leadership was still intact.

  An assemblage of officers inspected the defensive line, and then the town’s inner workings. Karl pointed out familiar points of interest to Liam and the men who had not been there for the first infiltration, such as the schoolhouse-turned-offices with the communications relay in the gymnasium. As it became evening on the first day of victory, the officers took quarters in a magnificent colonial home near the soldiers’ barracks, confident that their men were manning the defenses. Celebratory bottles appeared. The scrambled radio frequencies used by the enemy were still an enigma, but it was hopeful that one of the prisoners would give the access numbers during the interrogations that were fast underway.

  Karl struck a match and rolled the end of a cigar around the flame to produce an even burn, and then stood from the chair and looked out over the lawn of the property to the road ahead. A line of his army marched with bound prisoners toward the makeshift cells in Alice Elementary School, since the jail in the police department was full to capacity.

  “Casey Edmunds is dead,” Liam told the group, having just received word. “They found him twisted up in wreckage by the bridge. They’re bringing ’im back now, see if that won’t demoralize the prisoners a bit.”

  The officers laughed, all except Karl and the Priest, who instead raised his glass and issued, “Praise be.”

  Karl faced the window, clamping the cigar in his teeth. He’d taken back the first glass of whiskey in a slug, and now sipped at the second, letting his nerves dissolve and his limbs relax. The men were happy and loud, yet Karl felt the taste of the bourbon was not as sweet as it should be. Something was missing. A key to the celebration was left behind, in Hightown.

  “When’s the next transport heading out?” Karl said, cutting off conversations mid-sentence.

  “It’s, ah”—Liam checked his watch—“little over an hour. It’ll be the last until morning.”

  “I’ll be joining the procession. Schedule another to return from Hightown shortly after.”

  “For what purpose?”

  Karl didn’t turn to face him, yet Liam’s voice betrayed his insubordination as he said, “Sir. I’ll call it in now.”

  The glasses were drained, and the officers left silently, aware that their leader was deep in some trance and that it was best not to disturb his thoughts, lest they be added to the long list of the dead. The Priest and Liam were all who remained, sitting on lush recliners opposite Karl.

  When the cigar burnt low enough to radiate heat on his lips, Karl took a last puff of the velvet smoke and ground the burning nub out on the wooden floor. With that, he finished his glass, placed it on a dresser, and walked from the room. The Priest and Liam followed.

  “You intend to join me?”

  After a brief pause, the Priest asked, “Should we?”

  “You stay to mind the men. Liam, you come with me. If the soldiers in Hightown are lacking authority
, you may be needed to stay.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  ***

  Evening turned to night as the convoy arrived in Alice with the last of the supplies for the day. Karl and Liam stepped out of the Hummer as boxes of produce were removed from the pickup trucks and delivered to the kitchen.

  “What’s on the itinerary?” Liam asked. “The escort back to Alice is scheduled in two hours.”

  Karl walked fast from the trade grounds, eager to be away from the clamor of the men and the roar of the vehicles. He thought back to a time when his battles were fought from the saddle of a horse, and how afterward he did not have the headaches that now plagued him. “Cancel the escort.”

  “You’re not planning on traveling back alone, are you? There’s still plenty of ’em about.”

  “No, Mister Briggs. I intend to stay the night.” He rubbed his temple as they walked.

  “Yes, sir.” Liam brought a bottle of brown liquor on their journey, taking back the occasional swig. Karl had taken a few slugs, but it did little to ease his headache.

  “Keep an eye on the line, would ya?” Karl said. “I’ll be in my quarters. Wake me only if needed.”

  “Yes, sir.” There was trepidation in his voice. Never before had they not celebrated a victory until the bottles were dry.

  Liam turned back the way they’d arrived, and the commotion lessened to a few soldiers carrying supplies. Then a voice said, “Sir?”

  Karl turned, seeing a skittish soldier standing a few yards away. Liam stopped as well.

  “What?” Karl asked.

  “It’s the prisoners, sir. It’s, um, they’re …”

  “What about them? Get the fuck on with it.”

  The soldier cleared his throat, and said, “The ones tied up by the wall. They’re gone, sir.”

  “Escaped?” Karl’s eyes widened. “Which regiment was responsible for guarding them?”