"Excellent. How's the Grand Rapids site looking?" asked George. Turn. Head down, George didn't notice the carpet, he focused on Sarah's tone of voice.
"Looking good. There's a lot of state park land to the west and north of the city and the long term leases are on their way for my signature. We'll have everything we need locked up within the week.
A few nearby private landowners had to be convinced with sweet offers. When they heard what test armaments we were bringing, they took the deals instead of our making a "mistake" with our firing plans. We agreed with the Governor's request to restore any areas we damage when we leave but this shouldn't be an issue; we'll just ignore it as usual if we go."
George smiled. "Don't say that out loud to anybody but me." He paused to let that sink in and then continued, "When do you start moving the men?"
"Advance surveyors and engineers are already on site and laying it out. The satellite reconnaissance systems are in place and all the interior mapping is complete. The ground guys are simply confirming what the birds have given us. We haven't started shipping troops yet but I plan on sending the elite boys up first," said Sarah.
"Excellent. Two things. Don't start building until I give you the approval. And I want you to book some time up here so we can chat without having to worry about security on the comm system. I'll tell your momma you're fine but you should expect a call from her separately. You know how she is."
"Yes sir, Mr. Vice President. I do indeed. Talk later," said Sarah.
George said, "End." He strode to his desk, took his chair, swiveled it to the window, leaned back and smiled. Ah, Sarah's handling it well, he thought. But then he frowned, not too well I hope, damned if I want to retire.
He switched mental gears again. Those overseas funding cutbacks from Congress will work to our advantage in both the short and long run, he decided. The side of his mouth edged downward. He missed the action and this could be a long two years.
18/05/2047 14:22
Deep in the ghetto, a group of black men stood around a large table in the middle of an apartment living room, and all focussed intently on one man.
"Shit, Jason, bastards will be pissed and so will Ro."
"Don't give a flying fuck, we got everything they got. Short range lasers, heavy machine guns, grenades, rockets, we got it all. We know our streets. They don't," replied Jason. A large man, coffee-black, shaved head, army tattoos on one arm and blooded-gang-member ones on the other, he stared at the questioner.
But the man wasn't intimidated. "What about the choppers?"
"What about our rockets? I hear they take out choppers. Don't you pay attention. Those choppers are so low, they won't have time to move when we pull the triggers. We're going to hunt some birds. Oh yeah. We're going hunting and they're coming to our house.
Make sure the rabbit runs in the basements are cleared out. It might take those boys a few days to figure out how we're moving and run side scan radar to find the tunnel routes. Once they do, we'll work something else, we'll blow holes in apartment walls and move through apartments rather than the hallways," Jason finished.
"You think Ro is gonna be happy about this?" This was the most important question.
Jason looked at the questioner, stared, his face hardened, "I don't give a shit. Me and my wife, my kids, you and everyone of your families is hungry. Ro hasn't done dick. Just because we're a border neighbor and West is right god-dammed there," he said pointing across the street. He kept pointing adding, "We all, everyone of you grew up fighting and we always get screwed by one or other - it's either Ro or them. Who gives a shit what any of them think anymore. My babies are hungry. Are yours?
Has Ro sent any food down here? We're being left to dry out on our own. We can take the food or we can starve and wait for Ro to make up his fucking mind. Fuck that. You coming?"
One by one, he stared into the eyes of each man in the room. And one by one, they each dropped their eyes first. None would challenge or contradict him.
More than one of them thought, fucked if you do and fucked if you don't.
"Dion, I want you to rig up two of your whacking-big IED's. Just like we did in Africa. I want one under the manholes right opposite Demond's at the end of the block. When the convoy comes through, they have an armored vehicle at each end of the convoy and it's going to be simple to blow that first sucker when it's is right over the one at Demond's. That should stop the convoy but if not, shoot the drivers of any moving truck. Then blow the IED at the other end and we have them bottled up. Then everybody runs for the trucks. Take the truck and driver opposite your door. If he's a brother and surrenders, let him alone."
One of the others opened his mouth but before the words emerged, Jason interrupted. "Let the white boys live, too." To the incredulous looks, he continued, "Yeah, just this once. They're bringing food. But if anybody tries to fight, kill him."
He leaned forward to the table. "Listen up now. Don't kill anybody - in the trucks or other side of the street - on this one. We're both hungry and there's enough for both sides. You see them looking out, you wave them over. But get as many boxes as you can and run like hell for your place."
A waving hand motion emphasized the next order. "Get everybody in your family unloading those trucks. Once you got enough, stay inside and hide. Lots of other folks from several streets over going to be hitting those trucks too when this gets known. So let them be out there when the choppers come. I don't want our people out there because there's no telling what those mothers will do. But if the choppers come down low, we hit them with the rockets. Don't any of you be out on the street if you hear a chopper. If you hear me yelling on your headsets, you get your families home right away. When the marines come, we'll deal with them too." He pointed his finger and quickly cocked and bent his thumb mimicking a gun firing. Tentative smiles broke out around the room.
"Demarco, you and Elan stay in your apartment with your rockets because if we don't get that lead armor with the IED, you'll have to finish it off with the rockets. I'll be in my apartment as well with rockets and my sniper rifle. When the choppers come, you be ready to whack 'em too.
Anybody got any problems or better ideas?" Jason stood, hands on his hips and looked at the men one by one again.
Silence. But this time they all met his eyes and held. One by one, they nodded.
18/05/2047 18:05
"Sources confirmed today the police have become an active paramilitary force running sections of New York City/ The gangs are their opposition and control other parts of the city. The police are no longer working to control crime or violence in the gang-dominated areas of the city; there seems to be a functioning truce between the two of them. The marines in Central Park dominate wherever they walk but as soon as they are out of sight, violence returns to the streets. This is Ed Gordon for ZeeVid news."
22/05/2047 14:00
The lights were bright in the White House press room and the temperature stifling, even with, or perhaps in spite of, the antiquated air-conditioning units. Press Secretary Richard Hutchins introduced him for his first official news conference and Gwinnett was nervous. He was well briefed and was a quick study but facing the press with live feeds beamed to millions of social media accounts wasn't something a business executive did very often. There was a full turnout of reporters here; if there were blunders to be made, today would be a prime day. Rookies in any arena are hazed and pushed to find their weakness.
God, don't let me too stupid, rolled through his mind.
The lights rose to full studio brilliance.
Gwinnett decided he looked like a deer caught in some deer-jacker's beam, shifted slightly but left his hands on the podium in front of him. Hutchins, the Press Officer, told him it made him appear nervous when he waved them around.
"Mr Vice President, can you comment on Congress' cutting back the funds for QuellCorp troops overseas along with the Forces budgets?"
"As Vice President, I fully agree with the President in bringing our tro
ops home and ensuring the safety of our embassies. Our embassy staff must be kept safe and they will be," said Gwinnett.
"Mr. Vice President, a followup if I may, what's your take as the majority owner of QuellCorp to this cutback?"
"My position is simple. My shares are in a blind trust and there's a new CEO running the company. I have no contact or knowledge of day-to-day operations. Mind you, I hope they're doing a great job because the retirement benefits of this job aren't all that wonderful," said Gwinnett.
The press corps laughed and Gwinnett relaxed a bit, just a small bit. He didn't take his hands off the podium.
"Mr. Vice President, there's a story going around you were in charge of the so-called gang cleansing in Savannah several months ago. You were in your office that night and directed an operation that killed over fifty gang members. Is this true?"
"No, it's not. Let me give you the full story. Several weeks before the event I informally talked to Captain Johnson and offered QuellCorp's services because there were more and more innocent people being killed in the city. He was taking our plan to the Chief and Council for approval and input. I offered backup and logistics support from drones to armored vehicles for detaining prisoners. The police were to do the arresting and deal with any resistance.
I was in my office that night working on the logistics of moving the company north. The Chief called, I can't even begin to describe how angry he rightfully was, and our duty officer ordered several drones launched to track any fleeing vehicles. Understand it takes 20 to 30 minutes from the launch order to get drones to Savannah. So by the time we heard and got eyes over the city, the perpetrators were gone. I ordered a full e-sweep of our troops."
Gwinnett forgot his hands. They described the action in cadence with his voice. His body relaxed, and the words flowed smoothly in his Southern accent. He became believable instead of a wooden robot delivering scripted lines.
"Most of you know QuellCorp troops are fitted with several chip enhancements. QuellCorp personnel have several other inserted chips, including an ochlear - that's ear for those who don't speak medical - implant enabling us to both hear what is being said and transmit low-content personal messages. So QuellCorp personnel can be tracked and heard. Every member of our company was scanned, and all were exactly where they were supposed to be. QuellCorp was not involved," said Gwinnett.
"Mr. Vice President, is it possible your troops did this and hacked the software to protect themselves?"
Gwinnett was relaxed now. He remained behind the podium, that was the sole remaining advice he remembered, but his hands and face were animated and fully engaged in helping his words find their audience.
He pointed a single finger to the ceiling. "First, they're not 'my troopers' now, I am not involved in the running of the company."A second finger joined the first. "And second, while it may be possible to hack an advanced computer network for either a private company or government operation and replace one set of biodata, it is virtually impossible to hack and replace the biodata of a larger numbers of troops. But I suggest you don't take my word, you should ask somebody who knows about the details of tech stuff," he said.
"Sir, what is your position on climate change?"
"Well, we're not sure why it's happening, but it appears something is going on, doesn't it?" said Gwinnett. Score one for me, he thought.
The group laughed but the reporter for Greenpeace TV was not to be put off.
"Sir, your administration still allows fracking even with the water use doubling what was planned and approved. The aquifers are drained and contaminated so we can have extra natural gas."
"I don't hear a question there. And here I thought I was supposed to make the speeches," said Gwinnett. Damn, this is fun he thought. Then he remembered what Hutchins had said about not getting too cocky up there. The press would give you a lot of rope, make you look good, give you all the line you wanted and then set a hook. You'd be reeled in for the nation's dinner. He straightened back up, got his hands under control by gripping the podium.
"Mr. Vice President, there's a report out from reliable sources that Danielle Smithers, the reporter for Sci-Feed was killed because she had hard evidence of a coverup in the Savannah affair. Sources say her car steering was hacked and car steered off the road to make it seem like an accident. Can you comment on this Sir," asked Ed Gordon.
Gwinnett already had his best poker face in place so he didn't betray his inner thoughts and he considered his answer for a second before replying. "I have no knowledge of this and it's news to me. I hope whoever your source is turns the data over to the police for investigation."
Press Secretary Hutchins interrupted. "Mr. Vice President, I have to remind you of your next appointment."
Gwinnett looked over at him, smiled and returned to face the reporters. His hands waved. "I'm not much at being a smooth talking politician. I'm just an old army brat who served his country and then worked all his life to follow the American dream. I'll tell all y'all what you want to know if I can and I just want to tell the American people I'm on their side. I built my company by treating my staff right and I'm going to do my best to keep treating people right in this job. I hope y'all help me with that. But for now, you can see how much power I have around here with everybody telling me what to do and when to do it."
He turned and walked off stage. The reporters filed out to finish their stories and start hunting down this Smither's story.
27/05/2047 07:25
Aleysha sat in her momma's kitchen, the bitter smell of dandelion tea filled the room as she sipped. The teacup she used was a wedding present her momma kept and treasured. The last surviving cup from a set of four, it was only for celebrations and apologies.
They had a fight last night. She fed the girls, and she wanted her momma to have a full share. But her momma said, "You eat it, you have to keep these girls going and that's that." After a lot of quiet arguing, to shout about having bread would have invited more trouble, they agreed to split what was left. They were equally angry but they would survive Aleysha decided. They had before after major fights.
This morning, they sat on opposite sides of the table looking at each other, waiting for the other to speak first. Momma had brewed up the last of the dandelion leaves and each ate a bite-sized bit of bread that had been saved for breakfast.
"Tomorrow, we all go to the park. We don't bring much bread back here," said Aleysha. She couldn't meet her momma's eyes but stared at her mug.
"What's the cops going to do if you don't have any for them?"
"We bring 'em one loaf," said Aleysha.
"You think that will do 'em?"
"Don't know but we got to do it this way or the girls won't have either one of us in a week," said Aleysha raising her head and meeting her mother's eyes.
"Why don't we rabbit crawl on them? Just go round and under, like you used to do all the time," said her momma.
Aleysha stopped and considered this. Everybody knew the connecting walls in the project basements were shoddily built and over the years the gangs had cut out holes in every wall so they could move between houses without being seen. It would be risky using the connecting basements, that was how the gangs moved, but every kid played in them and found their way around the projects underground just as well as they did on the surface. The memory of her adventurous days brought a small smile to Aleysha's face. It was the first time she had smiled in a month.
"I didn't know you knew about that," said Aleysha. A tentative grin appeared.
Her mother laughed and Aleysha started laughing too as she understood. Her kids couldn't keep real secrets from her and she in turn hadn't been able to keep secrets from her momma. "Oh momma, I do love you."
"We'll get through this baby girl, the Lord will provide."
"You hear?"
"Get the girls, get to the bathroom!" momma screamed.
They heard Jason's gang open the war, he was only one street beyond their apartment. The blasts, excited screams of
having food, and then battle sounds came to her across the rooftop. She hadn't considered going there when the yelling was happy. That wasn't her street and little good would come of going over there even in the best of times. Now the screams were different. Fear replaced the jealousy.
"Girls, you know the drill. Into the bathtub, here's a towel for a pillow," yelled Aleysha.
Aleysha hoped the extra bit of steel might stop a bullet coming through the thin walls. She laid down beside the tub with her arm up and over the top so the girls could hold onto her hand. They had done this before. Keep away from windows and put as many walls between them and the fight as possible.
Aleysha thought this fight sounded bigger and worse than any she'd ever heard. The explosions were new and the staccato thumping of the machine guns was terrifying. She heard the rockets hit, the engine noises change, and she squeezed her eyes shut even harder as she prayed they'd all be safe.
The sound of the dying helicopter engines crossed right over their building, terrified her girls, and both cried louder. They held onto her, squeezing the blood right out of her hand, and threatening to break fingers in their panic. As the massive turbine bearings disintegrated, steel turned directly on steel and the grinding turned into a scream as the engines struggled to turn against increasing heat and resistance. Aleysha didn't see the end, but she heard the engines stop and a loud crash came from the street in front of the apartment.
Her momma laid beside her and she met her eyes and wondered if she looked as afraid as her momma did. She surely felt that way, she was cold and shaking but she held her girl's hands and they were still now, too terrified to cry but holding onto her with every bit of strength they had. The pain of their holding her felt good, it meant they were all still alive. She squeezed them both back a bit harder and raised herself up to see their eyes.
2047: Hell In A Handbasket Page 12
