Albert found a rucksack among the discarded paraphernalia of the unit soldiers and he filled it with as much food as he thought he could carry. He was reasonably sure that whoever was left from Rumples group would come through here anyway, or someone would and take what they could. The little captain watched him silent, impassive until Albert stood up and indicated he was ready to leave.
"This is it, isn't it?" the captain said, tears welling in his eyes and then running down his cheeks.
"Ya," he said.
"Cannot I not ask you to reconsider?"
Albert pulled the slide on his .45 and placed it against the little captain's temple. The man jammed his eyes shut as hard as he could and began to hum in a high pitched signal like a broken radio.
He walked home along the highway, right out in the open without even trying to hide. He knew now that they would come for him, come for them all but they were free today, right now, this minute. They had eliminated every single member of the Control Unit and Rumple's group had commandeered at least two, maybe three Humvees complete with .50 cals and probably two thousand rounds each. He hummed a little as he walked, singing to the tune of Here we go 'round the Mulberry Bush: "this is the way the world ends, the world ends, the world ends, this is the way the world ends, early in the morning," and laughing maniacally at the vision of himself as the great legendary leader of the underground.
It was a cool, free walk, the weather perfect for flying a kite. Maybe he would make a kite.
He picked up his truck at the turn-around on the Ninth Line and drove right down the middle of the road in broad daylight, smiling and thinking of Maureen and her ways.
"She was a keeper," he said out loud. "Got away, boy. Didn't set the hook right." And that set off another peel of laughter.
He bounced across Magnuson's field to the ridge and he crept along until he had a perfect vantage point. With his field glasses he could see the two boys bent over something in the grass and Marjorie was hanging up laundry which flapped white and brilliant. Then he saw Walter come around the corner leading a white goat. Albert's heart beat wildly when he saw his little nanny. She came along without much protest and then a nasty-looking billy, followed. The boys shrieked and laughed when the billy came up and wiggled his tongue right at them.
Albert drove to his campsite and left the truck there and then started walking back towards the ridge.
Should he say something? Should he go down there and explain to them what was happening out there in the world. What for? Where would they go? There was nothing to go to. Let them be as long as they can be.
The helicopters, four of them, appeared like small gnats in the distance. Their sound preceded them, the wop-flop, wop-flop thuddering of the blades fanning the air. They move in perfect unison like a small swarm of insects, growing and fattening before your eyes and then they swoop over the target for a test run, swing around in a wide, smooth arc and come in, electric machine guns chattering, engines howling, the slugs catching Walter first as he looks up and then the boys and then Marjorie screaming and waving her arms at them, but on they come, down, down, down, the endless chatter of the machine guns and then the woosh of Hellfires as they slam into the log house built with such care and love and then the barns go up. The billy starts to run and one of the ships chases it and the side gunner grins as he slaughters the animal with a thousand rounds of .50 caliber ammo. But they are not finished; they pull up and out and peel off into the sky as the jets streak past, brilliant orange curtains of napalm closing on the woods, trees screaming with fire, the log house an inferno. They bank and turn and make a second pass, unloading the last of their jellied gasoline onto the budding land.
The fires burned for several hours but the woodland was intercut with many farm fields that acted as fire breaks and eventually the half square mile was simply a black patch of curling smoke and the bristles of what were once fine trees of every sort.
Nothing can survive a Napalm attack. No insect, no beast, no vehicle. Rocks have been known to split from the heat.
Once it was deemed safe, a helicopter landed near the ruins of the cabin and four special forces operatives jumped out and searched for bodies. They moved across the fields, kicking the black detritus of the wondrous attack. The windmill had been toppled and the old house foundation was nothing but ash.
Eventually they returned to the helicopter and it rose slowly and peeled away to the east. There was silence wherever the fire had passed. Nothing moved for nothing breathed.
The only sound was the creaking of steel hinges and then the clunk as the hatch opened. First an AK was placed on the ground and then a hefty looking kit.
Albert climbed out and dropped the hatch.
He watched the retreating helicopter.
"Okay," he said out loud. "East it is then."
Epilogue
He had to focus his eyes again to make sure he was seeing what he was seeing. But there it was, the collection of Quonset buildings, the perimeter wire, the compound. He saw some people milling around behind the wire and the flag was flying.
It had been so long since he had simply sat in a chair and had a conversation, maybe had a cup of coffee or a beer. He had never thought of himself as someone who needed these things but deprived long enough and you begin to believe anything is important.
He came out from behind his cover, barely able to walk. He had given up trying to stay clean; it was impossible. His beard was completely overgrown and he knew how he must smell.
He raised his arms high in the air to show he had no weapons.
"Remain where you are," a voice ordered him from fifty yards away.
He stood still with his hands on his head, almost weeping as he saw the blur of uniforms approach. He had not eaten in days.
They treated him roughly, searching him without regard for his frailty. They asked him questions and he mumbled answers.
They marched him through the checkpoint and into the Quonset. A soldier wrinkled his face when he stepped forward to fan him with the electronic wand. The wand beeped and the soldier pressed a button. He looked up and asked him to follow.
He trudged behind the young soldier, his eyes bleakly staring at the ground.
He was admitted to the next room which was completely different from the stark military furnishings of the entrance. The room had light and some furniture. He looked around in wonder at it all.
"Sit down, please," the man said.
He pulled out the padded chair and sat gingerly down in it, trying to keep himself from weeping openly.
"Would you like a drink?"
He nodded.
"Sergeant, would you please get Mr. Gonzalez a cold drink - coke alright? I'm afraid that's all we have.”
Hector Gonzalez almost laughed and then he almost cried.
The tall man behind the desk looked at him sternly and shook his head.
"Get him a coke, sergeant," he ordered and the sergeant left.
The man turned to his computer screen and read for a while.
"It says you were assigned to Provost, Indiana."
"Yes. Yes sir."
"How'd that work out for you?"
Hector started to tell him the story of his narrow escape, of his months on the run, hiding, eating whatever he could, trying to find a way to get back to FEMA headquarters.
"Well, FEMA has been folded into another organization," the commander said.
The sergeant placed the coke in front of Hector and he stared at it for a moment and then pulled the tab and took a sip. He closed his eyes.
"Says here you had a computer, a laptop?"
"Destroyed," Hector said.
"Are you certain?"
"I did it myself when I realized I couldn't keep it with me, that I might lose it."
"Lot of very sensitive stuff on those laptops," the commander said.
"Yes sir. I guarantee you my computer was destroyed according to the instructions we were given."
"Whole new ball game n
ow," the commander said, turning to Hector and smiling.
"Sergeant, take care of Mr. Gonzalez, will you?"
The sergeant nodded and stepped up to Hector and took him by the arm. It was nice to be treated with respect once again.
"It's alright," he said, "I can still walk."
The soldier looked at him briefly and then stood aside to let him pass.
They went through the doors at the back of the Quonset and started down a corridor and then they were outside again. The day was cloudy and dark, but Hector felt relief and joy for the first time in months as he looked up at the sky.
The commander read through the rest of the information taken from Hector's arm implant. He barely turned his head when he heard the shot echo back from the compound.
Then George Griggson pressed the 'delete' key and Hector Gonzalez was no more.
The End
Of the Beginning…
Table of Contents
Copyright
PART 1, CHAPTER 1
PART 1, CHAPTER 2
PART 1, CHAPTER 3
PART 1, CHAPTER
PART 1, CHAPTER
PART 2, CHAPTER 1
PART 2, CHAPTER 2
PART 2, CHAPTER 3
PART 2, CHAPTER 4
Epilogue
As Wind in Dry Grass Page 38
