Half Past Midnight

by Jeff Brackett

  After sampling a little of the food, Brady soon contented himself with shoving it around with his fork and engaging in small talk. It became apparent that he was attempting to gather information about our resources. Watching the verbal sparring between our mayor and the captain was the best entertainment I’d had in months.

  It ended somewhat more abruptly than we expected. Brady and Kelland were discussing the advantages of having so many freshwater springs in the area and ideas for the USR amp;D group’s distribution of the water to other parts, when the sound of an explosion interrupted them. As we all jumped to our feet, Brady’s aide calmly drew his pistol and pointed it at Jim. Everyone froze.

  Shouting and sporadic gunfire suddenly erupted from various locations in the streets around Rejas. That seemed to surprise Brady more than the explosion, but he quickly recovered his composure. To everyone’s further surprise, the captain then drew his own weapon and pointed it at me!

  “Well, gentlemen, the dinner was delicious, but the general has arrived with our tanks, and we must get on with the business at hand. Mr. Dawcett,” he gestured with his pistol as he spoke, waving me toward the main doors of the dining room. “The general will soon be waiting outside, and during the last few months of my acquaintance with him, he has repeatedly expressed an intense desire to see you again. Please, let’s not keep him waiting.”

  I was thoroughly confused. It was obvious that I was on someone’s list, but an Army general? What was going on? Playing for time, I asked, “What does a general want with me? I’ve never even met any generals!”

  “But of course you have.” He calmly reached for the radio on his belt as he chuckled. “General Lawrence Troutman.”

  For the life of me, I honestly didn’t recognize the name at first. Then it hit me as he thumbed on the transmitter. Larry was alive. And he was evidently still pretty pissed off at me.

  “Brady here, General. I have the Council with me here in City Hall.”

  Pissed enough to come after me with a tank.

  “And I am happy to report that I have a pleasant surprise for you, sir.”

  My fears were confirmed as the radio squawked a reply. The reception wasn’t great, and I hadn’t heard that voice in two years, but it still chilled my blood instantly. “Yes, Captain?”

  I probably wouldn’t survive thirty seconds past the trip out the front door with Brady-time to do something unexpected.

  I turned to Jim. “You idiot! I thought you told me Larry was dead!” I launched myself at him, all the while hoping Brady wouldn’t shoot me in the back as I vaulted the dinner table.

  Instant bedlam ensued. Everyone must have thought I’d lost my mind as I scrambled across the tabletop. Poor Jim couldn’t have had any idea what was going on when I punched him in the cheek and followed him to the floor. Brady shuffled around trying to stuff the radio back in its pouch with his left hand and keep me in his sights with his right, all the while yelling at everyone else to get out of his way and screaming for me to get up before he shot me.

  “You stupid bastard!” I yelled into the mayor’s face. Then I slipped the small push-dagger out of my belt buckle and pressed it into his hand. I hissed, “Use it!”

  Pulling him to his feet, I shoved him into his guard, knocking them both into the wall. James Kelland may not have been one of the many martial arts students in Rejas, but he was a street cop from way back. As he hit the captain’s aide, he grabbed on and spun so that his body blocked Brady’s view of the little three-inch blade slamming into the aide’s chest.

  The soldier spasmed, fingers convulsing on the trigger of his pistol, which blew a hole in the wall next to Jim. At the sound of the gunshot, Brady swung his gun around to cover Jim. I immediately took advantage of his distraction. Dropping the flat throwing knife out of my sleeve, I hurled it at my target. It was the first time I had ever used a throwing knife on a live target, and I made a nearly fatal mistake. I forgot that, unlike my wooden targets, people move.

  I’d practiced for years, and never once did a target move when I threw at it. But I neglected to tell Brady that, and so he reacted naturally. He dodged.

  I, on the other hand, didn’t. I threw my knife and stood there like an idiot, waiting for Brady to oblige me and fall down dead. I realized my mistake during the half-second flight of the knife blade, but by then it was too late.

  Brady must have seen me from the corner of his eye because he stepped forward and began to shift his aim back toward me. The knife hit him chest high, pommel first. Luckily, it hit hard enough to spoil his aim, and the table beside me sprouted splinters.

  Ken tackled Brady from behind before he could get off a second shot. Three seconds of Brady’s skull bouncing on the floor took the last of the fight out of him.

  As Ken finished basketball practice, I scooped my knife off the floor and ran to the front window to peek through the closed blinds. I quickly discovered that knowing there was a tank aimed and ready to introduce you to your maker and actually seeing the huge muzzle of the cannon staring back at you were two very different things.

  As that first tank rolled down Main Street toward City Hall, I saw the night sky aglow behind it, the fire from the burning high school silhouetting its ominous shape. Larry had obviously chosen to come in with a full demonstration of the power at his command, destroying the school in an attempt to nip any resistance before it occurred, and simultaneously signaling his arrival to his troops. We had obligingly invited his men into the homes of our townspeople, and now they were attempting to force them out of those homes and into the streets. The sound of gunfire was everywhere, as were the screams and shouts of open conflict. Larry had evidently counted on surprising a quiet little town of meek, complacent survivors. I was gratified to see that the people of Rejas no longer fit that description. They fought back. Unfortunately, we were sorely outgunned since Rejas had stockpiled and hidden much of its weaponry.

  Brady’s radio came to life with Larry Troutman’s voice, reminding me of the situation at hand. “Surprise, Captain?”

  I realized that less than a minute had passed since Brady’s last transmission.

  “Everybody out!” Jim held the dead guard’s pistol and waved it toward the receiving door in the back of the tiny complex. None of us questioned his order. We ran for our lives through the exit and into the violence of the night.

  The chatter of gunfire surrounded us as we rushed down the block, keeping City Hall between ourselves and the tanks rumbling down the street. We rounded the corner and ran into a nearby abandoned storefront.

  “Everyone all right?” Ken asked.

  I could see the others nodding and panting in the darkness. Jim handed me the tiny push dagger that went in my belt buckle. “Thanks,” he said. “Guess I’ll have to get you to make me one of those things.”

  “Once we get out of this.” I slapped him on the back. “Anybody see how many tanks he’s got?”

  “I saw six,” Ken replied. “Could be more, but I don’t think so.”

  “Six tanks!” Jim spat. “What the hell can we do against tanks? We got handguns and deer rifles! What good are they?”

  “I learned a little about them back when I was in the service. These are Abrams. They’re tough, no doubt about it, but I think those are A1s, and I know some of their strengths and weaknesses. We might still have a chance.”

  The mayor didn’t seem convinced, but evidently decided this wasn’t the time to discuss it. Instead, he simply ignored Ken and turned to do a quick headcount while we caught our breath. “Okay, looks like everyone made it out all right. So, now what?”

  I looked up to find him staring at me, waiting for an answer. “Me? No way, Jim, you’re the mayor!”

  “That may be, but you seem to be the one at the middle of all this. It’s you they want, and if I understood things right, it’s you that might have a little previous experience with the head honcho. So I need to hear your take on the situation.”

  Anything I might have said at that
point was forgotten as my heart jumped into my throat at the sound of Larry’s voice coming from behind Ken. “Brady, report!”

  I went for my knife, desperately searching past Ken’s shoulder for my target when Ken grinned and reached behind him for the two-way. He had taken it from Brady and tucked it in his own belt before our flight from City Hall. “Captain Brady, please report your situation.”

  “I take it that’s the guy you told us about, the guy that tried to hijack you on D-day?” Ken asked.

  I nodded.

  The radio squawked again. “Brady!”

  I shoved my fear back into its little corner and motioned to Ken for the radio. He handed it to me without question.

  “Brady, get on the radio, now!”

  I keyed the transmitter. “Sorry, Larry, Brady’s a bit tied up at the moment.” Suddenly, a thought came to me. “That’s something you should be able to relate to, isn’t it, Larry? I seem to recall the last time I saw you, you were tied up, too. As a matter of fact, I was told there was a body out there where I left you, a body with a broken knee and a hole in his shoulder. How’d you manage that one?”

  There was a noticeable pause before he replied, “Dawcett? Is that really you?” He laughed. “How wonderful! I’ve finally found you. Too bad Frank isn’t still alive to share in our joyous reunion, but I’m afraid it was his body in the clearing. I’d had quite enough of his incompetence.”

  “So you killed him and made the wounds match yours. That way anyone I told about you would find the body and report you dead.” I shook my head in disbelief. Troutman was unbelievably callous.

  “Yes. It took me several months to heal.” He paused a moment. “But that’s behind us now, Leeland. I’ve spent quite some time searching for you. You promised me that you would be waiting for me in Shreveport.” I could almost hear that frown of his. “You lied to me again, Leeland. This seems to be a recurring flaw in your character. Tsk, tsk.”

  “’Tsk yourself, Larry. Remember the other promise I made? It had to do with what we agreed would happen if we ever met again. Remember? Just before I scared the piss out of you back at the cabin?”

  The pause was longer this time. Finally, anger clipping his speech, he replied, “Yes, Leeland, I remember. I remember quite well. We agreed that one of us wouldn’t walk away from that meeting.”

  Ken arched an eyebrow. I hadn’t ever told that to anyone. Larry continued before anyone else could say anything. “And unlike you, Mr. Dawcett, I keep my promises.”

  I was just about to taunt him again when City Hall unexpectedly exploded behind us in a deafening roar. Flaming debris showered the streets, adding the noise of a lumberyard falling from the sky.

  I stared for a moment, realizing that Larry thought we were all still in there. Then my anger flared, and I thumbed the radio back to life. “That’s not quite what I meant when I said one of us wouldn’t walk away, Larry. I seem to recall there being something about us meeting face to face. What’s the matter, General? Too frightened to face me?”

  “I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy, Leeland. You do seem to have the devil’s own luck, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do. Unfortunately, your Captain Brady doesn’t. He was still inside that building. He and his driver.”

  “How unfortunate for them.”

  “I take it that doesn’t bother you too much?”

  “You should know better than that, Leeland.”

  His cold-heartedness never ceased to amaze me. As it occurred to me that Larry was probably straddling the fence between genius and insanity, the shouts and sounds of the battle for Rejas intruded. “Sorry, Larry, I don’t have time for another debate. It seems my friends here are in the middle of a fight. You’ll just have to wait.”

  “Leeland!” He practically screamed in to the radio. “So help me-”

  I clicked off the power in mid-threat. “Okay, Jim, you wanted my advice?” I turned to face him. “The guy’s a nutcase. You can’t reason with him, so don’t bother trying. I say we split up and gather as many of our people as we can. We’ll meet at our place as quickly as possible. Larry’s bound to find out where it is sooner or later, but by then we should be long gone.”

  “Why your place?” he asked. “I can think of a dozen places a lot closer.”

  “You remember that stash I showed you?” He nodded. “That wasn’t the only one.”

  “What?”

  I grinned. “Better to have it and not need it-”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he interrupted. “I’ve heard it before. Save it.” He turned to the others. “Everyone know where Amber Peddy’s place is?” Everybody nodded.

  “All right, get as many people together as you can find and meet there in…” He turned back to me. “How long?”

  I gave it my best guesstimation, “Three hours should give us enough time to gather people, spread the word, and get through the woods to Amber’s.”

  “Okay. Eleven o’clock, no later than midnight. Let’s go!”

  We scattered, each of us rushing to get to as many Rejans as we could. With an ulterior motive, I ran south, down a fire-lit Main Street. I knew Megan was eating with the Petry’s tonight, and that they had planned to volunteer to feed some of the visiting “soldiers.” That was my first destination.

  I stuck to the flickering shadows, running in darkened doorways and alleys. It got easier as I got further from the twin conflagrations that had been, mere minutes before, Rejas High School and the City Hall. Turning left on Madison, I soon found that those weren’t the only fires in Rejas, only the most obvious. As I headed into the residential area of town, I found several homes ablaze. In front of one, I saw two of Troutman’s men using an abandoned car for cover as they pinned a family inside the burning building with gunfire. I drew my knives and took them from behind before they ever knew I was there. Yelling to the people in the house that it was safe, I grabbed the soldiers’ weapons.

  As the family emerged, I recognized the man, though I couldn’t recall his name. Tossing him one of the soldiers’ rifles, I told them about the proposed meeting at Amber’s. They headed north, and I continued further south. Two blocks down, I turned right onto Dowling, the Petry’s street, and spotted bodies lying in several of the yards. This was one of the nicer sections of town, and many of the townspeople had moved into the suddenly abundant empty homes after D-day, making it one of the most densely populated neighborhoods in Rejas. Tonight it looked like a war zone.

  Three houses on the street were aflame, illuminating the macabre scene, and while I saw no signs of life, there must have been thirty bodies visible by the flickering light. I was relieved to see that the vast majority of them wore uniforms-Larry’s men. I also noted with approval that none of the corpses still had their weapons. That meant several armed citizens were in the streets nearby. All I had to do was find them without getting myself shot by friendly fire.

  An abrupt volley of gunfire punctuated the night, and I instinctively ducked behind a tree before I realized the sounds had come from several blocks north. Checking for any signs of life, I scanned the other houses. Nothing. No movement anywhere. Were they hiding nearby, waiting to shoot the first thing that moved? Or had they moved on to another location? The Petry home was three doors down on the right, but I hesitated at the thought of making myself visible. Instead, I went to the back of the nearest home and began scaling fences until I reached the backyard. Inching my way up to the kitchen window, I peeked inside.

  “No!!” I screamed, and threw myself to the ground just as the window exploded above me, and the relative quiet was shattered by the sound of a shotgun blast. Glass shards rained down on me as I tried to identify myself.

  “Wait! Eric, it’s Leeland!!” I rolled to the side of the window in case Eric Petry hadn’t heard me before correcting his aim. During that panicked moment, I heard the elder Petry pump the shotgun once more before my words must have registered.

  While I was trying to do a belly-crawl through the broken g
lass at the speed of a desert jackrabbit, I heard his hesitant call. “Leeland? Lee, is that you?”

  “Unless you fire that next round, it is! Jesus H., Eric. You nearly blew my head off!” Panting, I rolled onto my back and stared up at the beautiful trail of the Milky Way above. As my heart tried to burst through my rib cage, it occurred to me just how close I had come to never seeing those stars again.

  “Lee?” Eric’s voice was above me, concerned, perhaps a little frightened. I looked up and saw his face, upside down from my perspective, as I lay there in the grass… and the glass. “Lee, did I hurt…? Aw, hell, did I shoot you? Are you shot?”

  “No,” I gasped. “But not for lack of trying. Oh God, Eric!” I nearly laughed, I was so giddy with relief. Then the pain hit me. “Jeez, I think my arms are cut up from crawling through what’s left of your window.” Raising my arms, I saw that the cuts were all superficial-painful, but far from dangerous.

  Megan’s future father-in-law reached down through the empty window frame and offered me a hand. “Better get in here before the shot attracts attention.”

  “Yeah.” I groaned as he helped me through the window. “Everyone all right?”

  “No.” He turned and walked back into the kitchen. As I followed him in, I saw the blood. God, there was blood everywhere! On the walls, the floor, Eric, and splattered on the food at the table. Smeared, bloody footprints were all over the place. A uniformed man sat in a pool of blood in the far corner, staring down through sightless eyes at the steak knife protruding from his chest. It had been done right, shoved in and twisted, maximizing the damage beyond what the little knife would normally do. The man had probably gone into shock immediately.

  “Megan got him.” Petry explained. “She was faster than the rest of us.” He shook his head. “Me and Andrew just sat and stared when they went for their guns. But not Megan.”