by Ford, Lizzy
“I’m not ten, Tim,” Brady said with a small smile. “We carry our own water and testing equipment.”
“Your family and mine would kill me if I let anything happen to you,” Tim said, returning the smile.
“We’ve been balancing both our demanding masters the past few weeks,” Brady said, referring to his PMF militia duties and his official regular military duties. “The regular army’s got us running around between fed strongholds to assess damage to fed facilities and PMF HQ wants us helping refugees. It’s a mess, Tim.”
“How bad is it?”
“Irreparable,” Dan supplied. “We’re surviving because of our position with the PMF and no other reason. No other regular army unit has a chance out here. We lost comms with the few who came from Ft. Bragg. Something weird is going on.”
Tim frowned. “Define weird.”
“Check your micro,” Brady said. He looked down and sent images to Tim.
Tim looked down. “What the hell?” he muttered.
“Something going on you want to tell us about? Like part two of the East-West War? These men aren’t wearing Western uniforms for their health.”
“The government has been divided since the war, but it didn’t seem possible that this could happen.”
“The good thing is recruitment is up,” Brady said.
“Just be leery of who you trust.” The silver-haired man offered a distracted smile. “Seems like so much death should be avoidable in this day and age. All my charm and diplomacy is hitting a brick wall.”
“War isn’t pretty,” Brady agreed. “We’ll keep sending refugees west.”
“The feds sealed off the Mississippi using the equipment left over from the war fifty years ago. You’d think the plan was to help the survivors, but I’m in a constant battle with others who want to wipe out everything east of the Mississippi and just start over. I figured it was all talk. Looks like some of them might be serious.” Tim looked up from the images on his micro.
“Jesus,” Dan breathed. “Please warn us if that happens.”
“If I find out first, I will.” Tim’s frustration was plain on his face.
Brady shifted uneasily. He’d never seen the politician up against something he couldn’t defeat. Tim looked worn. His friend was keeping secrets.
“I may need you to act quickly in the near future to interfere,” Tim said. “And, I might need a few assassinations called in to keep things from blowing up on your side of the river.”
“You know I’ll do anything you ask,” Brady said. “Just contact me when you need me.”
“Will do. I’m off to another meeting.”
“Take care.”
“You, too.”
Tim’s face disappeared from the screen. Brady glanced at his best friend, who shook his head.
“I can’t see how this could get much worse,” Dan said.
“I’m sure there’s a way,” Brady said.
“At least you got Angel to talk to. It’s about time for your daily chat, isn’t it?”
Brady eyed his friend, who tried hard not to smile. What had started out as a pain-in-the-ass babysitting favor to Tim had turned gradually into something he looked forward to. He checked in daily with the soft-spoken woman he’d nicknamed Angel. He’d known Tim his whole life and knew all of Tim’s consorts and children by name, if not by sight.
Tim had never mentioned Angel to him before asking him to take care of her.
“I’ll contact the helo,” Dan said with a wink and left.
Brady opened his channel. “Checking in.”
“Good evening to you, too,” Angel replied after a pause.
“You sound beat.”
“I am. I started learning to shoot a laser gun today,” she said. “I’m not very good.”
“All it takes is practice. The way things are going, you need to learn to shoot,” he said.
“You really think so?”
Brady frowned. Whoever Angel was, she was sheltered. He’d surmised she was somewhere this side of the Mississippi, but he couldn’t understand how she didn’t know how bad it was.
“Maybe.” He softened his words. “It’s a good skill to have.”
“Did anyone try to blow you up today?”
He chuckled. “Not yet.”
“That’s good.”
“You’d miss talking to me?”
“Yes,” she said simply.
“You’re the only one.”
“No companion or wife anywhere?”
“They’d be in a million pieces right now if so. Don’t know if you noticed, but it’s a warzone.”
“I am so sorry,” she said, sounding distraught. “I didn’t even think to ask if you lost anyone.”
“I didn’t. It was my attempt at humor,” he explained, not unaffected by her concern. It had been years since he’d heard a woman’s compassion. “Did you lose anyone?”
“No. Well, yes. Maybe.”
Brady waited, unusually interested in her answer. He expected her to name off Tim and answer his unasked question about the relationship between the two of them.
“My dog, Jack. I left him with my neighbor and haven’t been able to reach her.”
“Your dog,” he said. “Dogs are good at surviving on their own. No one else?”
“No. You sound surprised.”
“Just curious.” He heard the beat of a helo approaching. “I’ll keep an eye out for any lost dogs.” As he spoke, he strode from the commo room to the ledge outside. He trotted up a set of shallow stairs chiseled into the mountain to the helipad where Dan waited. “I gotta go, Angel. I’ll contact you later.”
“Good luck.”
“Get some sleep. Guardian out.”
He trotted to join Dan as the helo lowered from the sky. His thoughts were on Angel. Some evenings, he talked with her until she lost the edge of worry in her voice. Other evenings were like this one, where he checked in and went about his business. In both cases, he found himself looking forward to hearing her voice—and making sure she was still alive. He wasn’t sure how he’d break the news to Tim if something happened to her.
The helo hovered near the edge of the plateau. A ladder lowered, and Brady vaulted onto it, followed by Dan. They sat and pulled out laser guns, arming them and waiting as the helo took them down the mountain again to their awaiting teams.
Brady’s focus returned to his mission. They’d identified a small town where the soldiers in Western uniforms had holed themselves. He had no idea who they were, except that sightings of them became regular soon after the nuke attacks on the East Coast.
“I said, security to command! You surface dwellers better not be sleeping, or—”
In the quite, dark command center, Lana awoke from her doze with a jerk at the peeved female’s voice, the dream of her journey to the Peak fading. She slapped the pad to open the command center’s internal network. The communications screen lit up one wall, displaying one of the genetically altered women in the elite special operations security team. Unlike the regular military, the political elite’s security private forces were made up of children from the upper class to prevent the elite class from becoming polluted by the poor.
The muscular woman, with short blond hair and clad in black tactical gear, stood in a stark white hallway. Green eyes sparkled despite her irritated tone.
“I’m here, I’m here, Elise,” Lana mumbled.
“Lana!” Elise’s voice brightened. “I’m happy it’s you. Greenie got you working nights, too?”
“Yes. Everything okay?”
“Just bored.”
Lana’s body ached from sleeping in chairs. She shook her head to clear it and looked around. The command hub held a dozen workstations, one for each eastern critical infrastructure, and a wall secured behind titanium glass of keypads, buttons, and computer screens that acted as the emergency backup. The Eastern Command Center had served as the headquarters for the Eastern armies during the East-West Civil War. After the war, it rem
ained a central hub.
The other walls of the octagon-shaped command center were occupied by silent, animated screens similar to the one the underground security commander appeared on. Computers hummed, the sound enough to lull Lana to sleep nearly every shift she spent alone in the vault despite the sleep replacement supplements—known as anti-sleepers—she took.
She paced in front of one wall, staring again at the map of the eastern U.S., where the attacks and their kill zones were marked with a running timeline beneath it. The major cities in the East hit by nukes were marked in red with concentric circles that faded to orange, yellow, and finally green as they stretched west. With the exception of a few isolated pockets of green, most of the East Coast was shaded with red, orange, or yellow, while the Midwest was a mix of greens and yellows.
“You’re obsessed,” Elise said. “What is it now?”
“The usual. I’m missing something.”
“You and everyone else around here. You know tonight I had to prevent the VP’s commo guy from using the emergency network to order gin? Someone down here wants martinis.”
Lana sighed. She crossed to the communication master workstation and checked the systems. The emergency network had not been utilized, which meant that by morning one of the high-ranking men hiding underground would be on the phone to General Greene to complain about the lack of gin.
“Water, I can understand. That’s a big deal,” Elise continued. “The network good?”
“Yeah. They didn’t use it. Will I be reading another report about you smacking someone?”
“Nope. Just told the commo guy he wouldn’t ever see the light of day again if he touched the commo pad.”
“I’m glad you’re down there, Elise,” she said. “I’m not sure I could tell the VP to sit down and shut up with the same panache you have.”
“It’s fun. How’s life in the sun? I thought Jim told me you’re seeing survivors at the gates?”
Lana’s smile faded. “Our location isn’t secret anymore,” she responded in a troubled tone. “It’s crazy around here sometimes.”
She was uneasy lingering on the events of the past week. The local populace—some dressed in the Western uniforms she’d seen in her history classes—was making its way towards the compound, lured by the rumors of the government compound and food, water, and medicines. She did not agree with the commander’s orders to kill anyone who stepped within range. Her gaze returned to the map.
“Everyone’s asleep, and I’m bored,” Elise complained. “Tell me why you always stare at that map whenever I call.”
“It just doesn’t make sense to me,” Lana began. She sat again in the uncomfortable chair that had become her alternate bed.
“What doesn’t?”
“We had no advanced warning that this was going to happen. That’s virtually impossible, Elise. The attacks on the coast occurred simultaneously with nukes that would’ve been impossible to hide, let alone smuggle into the country. No one has this capability, even the PMF.”
“I thought you domestic security types were supposed to be watching this kind of thing.”
“We do. We did. I’ve never seen anything indicating the PMF could wipe out the East Coast. It doesn’t fit with their alleged party objectives or any tactics they’ve ever employed.”
“No one else could’ve done it. Unless you know something I don’t?” Elise countered.
Lana said nothing. If not for Mr. Tim’s assertion, she would not have pursued her instincts. Research conducted during quiet nights such as this only bolstered her opinion that the only organization that might have the capabilities still couldn’t have done this. Her years of training led her to a conclusion she couldn’t yet embrace: that the only way to hide the large-scaled planning would require someone on the inside of the government.
Her gaze settled on the animated timeline. All of the attacks occurred between three fifteen in the morning and four thirty. Mr. Tim had called her well before. If he knew something was about to happen, then others within the government did as well. She just couldn’t find it.
“I’ll be rotating to the surface this afternoon,” Elise said. “You with the psycho commander today?”
“Probably,” Lana responded, turning away from the map. “General Greene is headed down there this morning. He normally keeps the commander close to him. I’ll probably have to stay with Arnie if the general isn’t around.”
The door behind Lana slid open. She twisted in her seat to face General Greene, one of the three people on the compound authorized by the manic commander to be present in the command hub alone. His clothing was pressed and his appearance spry despite his almost sixty years.
“Elise out.” The security commander’s image disappeared from the screen.
Lana studied the general. To an outsider, he appeared as confident and fresh as a man just starting a mission after a good night’s sleep. She, however, saw the lines of pain and exhaustion under his eyes. His right arm hung limply at his side. He had not used it in over a month.
“How are you feeling, sir?” she asked.
“Another beautiful day,” he said. “Any word from the West?”
“No, sir.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” he said with a shrug. “The commander is officially no longer in command. The doc finally declared him unfit after his last episode.”
Lana almost sighed in relief.
“No more lunatic rages or attempts to blast himself to the moon or whatever he was doing last week,” General Greene added with a shake of his head. “Unfortunately, Arnie needs a babysitter, someone who can hush up anything he says that he shouldn’t. There are only three of us here with access to that level of information, and I’m ordering you to do it.”
“He has been very erratic lately,” she agreed.
“He’s so drugged up by the doc right now, even you should be able to handle him. He’ll be replacing Elise as your current roommate for the time being. Anything happen last night?”
Lana grimaced internally at the thought of dealing with the crazy man who should’ve been running the command center instead of her. Arnie Smith had fallen off the deep end soon after arriving to the Peak.
“Yes, sir,” she replied. “One of the generators is out. I don’t know that we have the expertise here to repair it at this time. We may be eating out of cans soon. Food stores are getting low up here.” She looked at her notes on her micro. “Also, South Carolina contacted us regarding water for its residents in Charlotte. I authorized the dispersal of two tons of water and twenty cases of rations from the emergency site in Raleigh along with hazmat drivers and twelve vehicles. It will tide them over while they try to repair their water system.”
“How are the power grids holding up?” he asked, gaze shifting to the screens around them.
Lana brought up the energy grids. The geospatial depiction of the country was crisscrossed with glowing colors and lines.
“Not well. Traditional power is mostly out all the way to the Mississippi River. Everything this side of the Mississippi is working on solar energy, but not all the facilities are equipped with energy storage, and because it’s fall, our energy collection is limited. It’s still a mess but better than it was.”
He frowned at the map before him.
“Teams are working to repair what they can,” she added more softly.
“Good enough,” he said. “Take a break for a couple of hours. The medics have your anti-sleepers ready. I don’t think things will get any better for us.”
Lana hesitated then went on with a frown. “Sir, we have another two weeks of supplies up here, if that. The guards have shot another dozen people around the perimeters, and our sensors indicate there is a small camp of some sort housing over a hundred survivors nearby and another one with several hundred at the bottom of the mountain,” she said. “I take it we’ve not heard from the central or west coast sites this week?”
“No, we haven’t.”
She waited for some as
surance or direction. When he remained silent, she left.
Lana shivered as she stepped into the cold night. The sky was clear, one of the few clear nights since she arrived to the Peak. Normally, clouds hung around the mountaintop. She breathed the chilled air to clear her thoughts. Black-clad guards roamed the internal perimeter while others manned the walls of the compound. The pulse of the protective field surrounding the compound mixed with the distant howls of coyotes inhabiting the forest.
She hugged herself and treaded to the side of the main road down a small hill to the barracks housing the feds. The road edged a thatch of forest past the water treatment plant and the power plant, and circled the central command hub in which she worked before leading to the main entrance of the compound.
The walk was peaceful, the starry night and thrum of crickets easing her tired mind. She thought of Jack, hoping he was still safe with Mrs. Watson but not optimistic he was. She’d tried to contact Mrs. Watson several times the first week at the Peak before giving up. Her only regret in leaving everything behind was not bringing Jack with her.
A set of soldiers approached on patrol. Lana waved to them in greeting as she reached the barracks. She dreaded entering, wanting a moment of peace before being confined within the spartanly furnished room with the manic Arnie Smith. She turned away, crossed the road, and skirted the darkened helipad resting at the edge of a cliff overlooking an extensive valley.
She perched on one of the boulders lining the cliff edge and tucked her legs beneath her. The cliff’s sheer drop created a natural defense against any intruders in addition to providing a view that was breathtaking by day or night. The valley appeared as vast as the sky, both stretching until they met a second range of mountains in the distance.
“Checking in.” The Guardian’s voice drifted over her personal net.
Pleased to hear from the Guardian, she found herself smiling. She knew little about the stranger who called to check on her every day, not even his real name, but she was always cheered by his familiar voice.
“I’m here,” she answered. “You’re still alive.”
“For now. Fortunately, things look bleaker every day,” he replied with amusement. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
