Storm Tide Rising: Blackout Volume 2

by D W McAliley

  Ch.59

  Word Gets Around

  Joe stepped out into the darkening gloom and pulled his leather bomber jacket close around him. His M4 hung from a sling on his back, and a holstered Beretta was strapped to his upper thigh for a quick right-handed draw. Joe wore light neoprene mechanics gloves and kept his hands well clear of his pockets as he walked down the front steps and across the yard. The rain had all but stopped, and a heavy mist that was almost a thick fog hung in the air. Everything was saturated, and the mist made the wool fringe of Joe’s collar damp by the time he reached the gate.

  "Danny," Joe said, sticking his right hand out immediately, "good to see you again. And I'm glad you decided to come have a talk before shooting a cow this time."

  Danny smiled and nodded. "I thought it would best to avoid any misunderstandings. Besides, I may have some stuff you want too."

  "Well, you sure picked a heck of a time to be on the road," Joe said, and he stepped over to unlock the gate. "Why don't you come inside and sit down so we can talk and get warmed up and dried off. First, I'll have to ask you to hand over your guns while you're on our property."

  Danny froze, and so did Tom. The air between the three of them suddenly seemed about to spark from the tension. "And what's to guarantee my safety if I hand over my guns?"

  Joe fixed him with a cool, even stare. "I am. You come under my roof, you come under my protection. But I won't have someone I don't know walking around armed inside our fence line. That just ain't happening. Now, hand over your guns, or you can turn right around and go back the way you came. Understood?"

  Danny paused, but knowing he had no choice if he wanted to talk to Joe, he nodded reluctantly. Joe motioned to Eric who took the man's two revolvers, his semi-automatic .45 and a lever-action rifle from the saddle of the horse he was leading. "He's got a few knives in here, Dad," Eric said after checking one of the saddlebags. "Should I pull them out too?"

  Joe raised an eyebrow at Danny, who shook his head. "That's part of what I have to trade, not for personal use."

  "Leave them in there, then," Joe said to Eric, never taking his eyes off Danny. "If you go for them while you're on our property, and I think you mean to do harm with them, I won't ask you to put them down. Got it?"

  "Word gets around about you, Captain Tillman," Danny said after a moment. "People say that you're a hard man, but you're a fair man. I hope they're telling the truth."

  Joe chuckled softly. "So do I," he replied.

  Danny gave a slight shrug. "Fair enough," he said.

  Eric tucked the man's handguns behind his belt and into a spare pocket of the vest he wore beneath his poncho. He handed the rifle over to Joe, who took it and checked the chamber to make sure it was clear. Danny led the horse through the gate, and Tom followed them.

  "I'll stay on guard, Eric," Tom said, "You should go in with your father."

  But Eric shook his head. "Tom, you sound like you're going to hack up a lung any minute," he said, patting the older man on the back. "You might have a cold right now, like you say, but if you stay out in weather like this you're going to get pneumonia. I'll be fine, and I'll come switch out in a little bit."

  Tom started to answer, but a hard bout of coughing shook him from deep inside his chest, and it took several moments for him to finally catch his breath. In the end, he nodded and followed Joe and Danny to the house. Joe showed Danny where he could tie off the horse outside the backdoor and then led the man into the family room.

  The room was crowded with children, adults, and the smell of fried tenderloin and fresh biscuits. Joe pulled Beth aside and whispered, "Can you take the kids to the front of the house, please? We're going to have some business to discuss, and it's stuff they might not need to hear."

  Beth nodded, and with Christina and Beth-Anne's help, they started herding the children through the kitchen and toward the front wing of the house. Gilbert, Bill, and Levy all sat in the den still, exchanging greeting and introductions with Danny in quiet voices. Meanwhile, Blossom, Imogene, and Maimey all crowded into the kitchen to start fixing something warm for Tom and their guest.

  Joe stood behind Levy's large patent leather recliner, and Danny stood in front of the crackling fire facing them, his pack still on his shoulders.

  "Well, Danny," Joe said after the introductions were done, "I've got to tell ya, I wasn't sure if we'd ever see you again or not. I'm glad to see your uncle wasn't too upset with our deal."

  "Oh, he was plenty upset," Danny said, "Just not with you. I would tell you what he said, but I don't think I'm old enough to use that language yet."

  Levy and Gilbert both chuckled.

  "That's one of the reasons I'm here," Danny said, his voice turning serious. "My uncle and I both wanted to show you that there's no hard feelings on his part, or on mine. We were both just doing what we had to do. And I brought some good knives, blankets, different stuff to see if you had anything you might need to trade."

  "And the beef," Joe said, arching an eyebrow. "I mean, that's why you're really here, right? The meat."

  Danny nodded. "That's part of it, but not all of it," he admitted. "I saw on the way in y'all have had problems with the jackals too. Well, that ain't the worst of it. There's a group in town now that is calling themselves the 'Salvagers.' They go into houses and take whatever they find as part of 'salvage operations.' The problem is these people ain't too careful about making sure the house is empty of people first."

  "You mean they're killing people and looting their houses?" Bill asked from the couch.

  Danny nodded. "Pretty sure once they run out of easy pickins in town, things are bound to get ugly."

  "How many people are we talking?" Joe asked quietly.

  Danny shrugged. "I don't know myself, but from what I've been told, no more than about twenty five or thirty doing the actual killin and plunderin. We all figured if you hadn't heard about it, you'd better know in case they show up. Looks like y'all can pretty well take care of yourselves, though."

  Joe took a deep breath, and shook his head. "Not sure how we'd do against that many at once. We've had a few stragglers and some unfortunate run-ins, but no real coordinated attacks. You?"

  Danny shrugged uncomfortably. "We had one. Group of nine men tried to break down our storehouse doors, and we had to run 'em off. Killed three of them and shot two more. We were worried for a few days that they'd come back, but they never did."

  "Why don't we hit them before they hit us?" Joe asked.

  "Look, I don't know what you did before," Danny said, "but I'm not a soldier, and none of the people we're with are. If someone comes after us we'll respond, but I don't know about going after people who are already dangerous. Now you seem pretty dangerous yourself, so that might not worry you, but it worries me."

  Joe chuckled softly. "Last time I saw you, Danny, you stared me down while you were smoking one of my cows with two bear-sized guard dogs by your side, and you're calling me scary?"

  "Just keep your eyes out for the Salvagers, okay?" Danny said.

  Joe nodded. "Fair enough, Danny, thank you for the warning," Joe replied. "Now what are you looking for as far as beef?"

  "The meat I got last time is running thin," Danny said, "and we're going to need more to get us through the winter. We can hunt deer and squirrel some, but we need a solid and dependable source of meat, and right now that's y'all."

  Joe nodded. "We're facing the same thing here," he said carefully. "But we're going to need to use this resource carefully so it doesn't dry up in the first few months. What do you have to offer?"

  "Well, with the shop, we had certain dry goods in bulk that it's tough to get these days," Danny said as he set his back pack down. He rummaged through the main pouch for a bit, then pulled out three gallon-sized Ziploc bags, each full of a white substance and wrapped with plastic wrap. "Salt, sugar, and baking soda," Danny said as handed the bags to Levy.

  "A gallon Ziploc of each isn't going to buy you much," Joe said, careful to k
eep his interest concealed. "How much of these can you get?"

  Danny smiled, "Tons," he replied. "We've got a storage house with pallets of the stuff in hundred pound bags. We used the salt and sugar in curing, smoking, and processing for sausages and all kinds of other products. The baking soda was for our store front. You can cook with it, clean with it, all kinds of stuff."

  "What's the rate?" Joe asked.

  "A pound of beef for a pound of salt," Danny answered, "and two for one sugar to beef."

  Joe looked at Levy, who shrugged and nodded once. Joe stuck his right hand out to Danny. "I'll have to clear it with my partner in the herds, but I think we can at least tentatively say it's a deal."

  Danny nodded, but didn't shake Joe's hand. "There's one more thing," Danny said hesitantly. "This arrangement will work for a while, but there comes a point where we won't want to get rid of any more salt or sugar. And we really want to get to the point where we can supply for ourselves."

  "Sounds like you're suggesting another deal, Danny," Joe said. "Just what are we talking about here?"

  "Well, my uncle has horses," Danny said, "You know they're good animals; you've got two of them. We were thinking we could work out a trade of some sort, calves for colts in the spring."

  Joe's mind raced as he rolled over the possibilities. Horses were definitely something they were going to need to make travel easier and quieter. Especially if they were going to have to start dealing with organized threats and attacks. After a long moment, Joe nodded. "Like I said before, Danny, I'll have to go over this with my partner. He's out keeping an eye on the herds now, but when he gets back I'll talk it over with him. Can you stay a while?"

  Danny smiled. "I'd be glad to. Better to eat a good dinner and stay dry here than try to ride back home tonight in the dark and the rain."

  Joe stepped forward, his hand out again, and this time Danny took it. "So what do you think, Danny," Joe said with a grin, "Am I honest?"

  "Like I said, Mr. Tillman," Danny answered, "word gets around."

  Ch.60

  The Sound of Silence

  He stood in the hall of statues, among some of the greatest men the nation had ever known. The eyes of history stared down at him, and he felt their weight on his back.

  It was an uncomfortable feeling.

  The man walked from statue to statue, his footsteps echoing in the silent stone hall. The US Capitol building hadn't been so still and so silent since it was built. Twenty one decades had passed since the building was completed, and none of them had been peaceful. Men had always found cause to do battle with each other beneath this roof, even when their fellow countrymen had tasted their fill of war.

  Now, though, there was silence. There was a strange unity in silence—like nothing else. The first noise, the first sound becomes an intrusion of the other into what had been deeply personal and intimate.

  He was gazing into the face of Robert E. Lee, the Confederate General of the Army of Northern Virginia, when the other walked into the room. The man didn't turn yet, it could be only one person, and he could wait. Lee's statue was calm and stately, nothing like the butcher he had always pictured in his head. He hated the man, and admired him as well. He had not sought rebellion, but once it was thrust upon him, he had not shirked from it either, and that was admirable enough. But his moral depravity and his utter ambivalence to the suffering of others was staggering.

  How telling that the two statues from Virginia stood so far apart in the hearts and minds of America; Washington on the one hand and Lee on the other.

  "What is it, Daniel?" he asked calmly without turning.

  "Sir, the Capitol is secure," Daniel said with precision. "We took no casualties, and the transition of operational, tactical, and strategic command was seamless. Welcome home, sir."

  "No celebrating yet, Daniel," he said calmly. "We still have to make them believe what we've shown them. Are they assembled?"

  Daniel nodded. "Yes, sir. All of the Representatives and Senators that could be found are outside on the east stairs. Lights are in place, and they're waiting for you."

  "Good."

  Without another word, he left General Lee to his own quiet contemplation and strode through the vast empty halls of the Capitol building. As he walked, he took in the marble and granite columns and walls that gleamed like polished glass, the dark hardwoods buffed to a deep glow, and the bright mosaic tiles that formed geometric patterns on the floor. Every aspect of the building was designed to impress one with visions of power, magnificence, and authority.

  The White House had been the old Presidents’ seat of power, and he was happy to leave it as such. The Capitol would be his.

  He stepped through the large east doors and walked up to a podium that had been set at the top edge of the stairs. Banks of LED lights powered by small generators were focused on the podium, and a set of PA speakers connected to a small microphone amplified his voice. As soon as he stepped out of the shadows among the towering columns of the dark Capitol building, a wave of low whispers and murmurings swept through the men and women assembled on the broad stone stairs. The volume of the whispers began to rise a little, and he waited a few moments to let the impact of what they were witnessing sink in fully. The crowd of Senators and Representatives was smaller than he would have anticipated. Maybe a hundred and fifty of the five hundred and thirty five total members were present.

  He cleared his throat quietly, and all other conversations snapped to a close.

  "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Congress," he began formally, "I want to thank you for meeting me here on such a short notice. As you all are aware, a tragedy unlike any previous has struck our beloved nation. We have been attacked by the use of nuclear weapons, and at least one device was detonated over a United States metropolis—New York City."

  Stunned silence met that announcement. He counted to five mentally before continuing.

  "It is difficult to overestimate the seriousness of our current situation and the weight of our responsibilities. The President and the Secretary of Homeland Security were both killed in New York. As Deputy Secretary for DHS, it's my duty to take over the emergency response. And since we are still under the COGCON-0 state, I'm also assuming the role of acting President since I am the ranking member of the federal chain of succession present. I will have a series of resolutions on your desks tomorrow morning to begin the process of restoring law and order, first and foremost. Are there any questions?"

  A dozen voices started calling at once, and for a moment he did nothing. Then, slowly, he held up a hand and silence fell. He looked briefly for any friendly face he could recognize from his many committee and sub-committee meetings. Finally, he picked out a six-term Senator from New Mexico.

  "Senator Alexander, did you have a question?" he asked with a subtle grin.

  The Senator looked around nervously for a moment, his eyebrows drawn down in confusion. "Uh...I guess, where are we going to sleep?"

  "Excellent," he said. "the White House should be reserved for the next President Elect, I would think. Therefore, I will be taking residence up here, in the Capitol. And you are all welcome to stay as my guests. Rooms have been set aside for you all. Thank you, and welcome."

  Without waiting for a response, he spun on his heel and walked away. Daniel was waiting for him among the shadows of the columns, of course. The security forces would see to showing all of the Congressmen and Senators to their chambers, and they would stand guard over their doors to keep them safe. As he walked through the tall, echoing halls, the smile that he had worked so hard to keep at bay crept slowly over his face.

  There was still much to be done to secure his power and tighten his grip on what was left of the country. And, eventually, that meddlesome, glorified computer repair man in Utah would have to be dealt with. But for now, he took a moment to relish in how far he'd come. Just a few more loose ends to tie up and his authority would be complete.

  Then would come his time to exercise it.

&n
bsp; Ch.61

  The Answer

  Marcus stepped through the doorway, and the painfully loud, screaming cacophony of death metal music cut off abruptly. The man was laying at an incline on a metal rack, his hands tied securely behind him, and his ankles bound as well. The position twisted him into impossible contortions without risking any of his bones, joints, or organs. It had been meticulously and thoroughly engineered to cause pain and discomfort but no damage.

  It made Marcus sick to his stomach to see the tears streaming down the prisoner's face. He took a deep, slow breath and bent down next to the man's ear. "We need a name," Marcus whispered softly, and the man began sobbing harder. "You gave us the office; now we just need the name to confirm. That's all. You've already given us the information; we just need to confirm it. You can do that, right?"

  Tears streamed down the man's face as he wept hard enough to shake his entire tightly bound body.

  Marcus swallowed the taste of bile at the back of his throat. "If you don't give us the name, how can we be certain that you're telling us the truth? We need the truth, not just some title that anyone could have held at any time."

  The man blinked and finally opened his eyes. He focused them on Marcus, and Marcus could see that he was broken.

  "Will you kill me?" the prisoner asked. "Please? If I tell you the name, will that be enough for you to just kill me already?"

  "I don't know," Marcus replied honestly. "but I can tell you that if you don't give it to us, we'll keep you alive a lot longer."

  Great, heavy sobs shook the man as he wept and strained against his captivity. Finally exhausted, he slumped and whimpered softly to himself.

  "Deputy Secretary of Homeland Security Phillip Hall," the prisoner said at last. "He's the one giving the orders. He's the one who set the whole thing in motion. He sent me here, personally, to kill you, Marcus, Lt. Commander, whatever you are. I was supposed to work my way onto your floor's maintenance crew and kill you by any means necessary. Then destroy as much of the system as I could on the way out. Happy now? You've got everything I know, all of it. Now please, kill me and get it over with."