The Tsunami

by Marshall Miller

  Abigail sighed. “I have been training to be an Avenging Angel for almost six years straight. That is the task, my Mormon mission that God and the Prophet have chosen for me. While other young persons in past years have been sent on Mission to ‘spread the word’ of the Mormon Church of the Latter Day Saints, I have been chosen to protect all believers, so we can start educating people in our belief. Someday, Mormon Missionaries will once again move outside of Deseret, to spread The Word.”

  Torbin paused. There was another question he had to ask, to insure that Abigail was handling this level of violence in which she was involved.

  “You seemed sure of your actions when you slit that one Kraken biker’s throat.”

  Abigail frowned a bit. “He was trying to kill one of Uncle Buck’s dogs, and one of Pepper’s pups. They are like family to me.” She paused. “I know that may sound strange. But I didn’t even think, I just reacted. I have no regrets.”

  “So, protecting family is important?”

  “Of course, and friends as well. I have God given skills that I can use to help the good and the innocent. I am not bloodthirsty. I do not look for a fight, for death, but I will not shirk from it either. The weak, innocent, good people, both two-legged and four-legged friends. These, I will defend.”

  Torbin sat for a moment. It dawned on him that she sounded a lot like a certain Bushido warrior he knew. She had inside her a level of violence that could be released at a moment’s notice if need be, but only if it was warranted by the situation and coincided with her moral code and honor. She was a complicated person for a young lady who had experienced parts of life usually reserved for older professional soldiers. Then it hit him. She was a professional soldier, a warrior, despite her young years. It would have been nice if she had been able to live the normal life of a teenager. But that all ended when the first rock hit.

  Torbin felt the anger rise again when he considered all of the ruined lives, especially the children’s, that the appearance of the Tschaaa had caused. Now, since the nuke strike, he had a certain degree of satisfaction. Payback’s a bitch.

  “Abigail, I think you and Ichiro, my blood brother and comrade, have a lot in common. He also was raised to be a warrior—in his case a traditional Bushido warrior, a Samurai. His moral compass mirrors yours.”

  Abigail cocked her head. “It would be interesting to meet someone like me. You are a soldier, a warrior, but you are a bit older. How old is Ichiro?”

  “Just turned 28. Still older than you, but definitely young at heart.”

  “He is married?”

  “Hell, no. He’s been busy a soldiering for his country to think much about starting a family. He lost his mother and father to a harvester.”

  Abigail sat without a word, as if she was trying to process something. Then she spoke. “He does sound kind of like me. I think I would like to meet him, especially since he is your friend. A friend of yours is a friend of mine, Torbin. You would not have any unworthy friends.”

  Torbin chuckled. “Boy, do I have you fooled. Just remember that at my heart I am an old grunt Marine who has rarely seen the inside of a church. I am rude, crude, and socially unacceptable, and some of my friends are the same way.”

  The way that Abigail regarded him, Torbin almost had the feeling she was looking through him. Who is perfect? No one, not even a Prophet. I know you’re far from perfect, but you are the center of something bigger than you, of something important that is to come.

  “I know you have trouble believing this, as you are used to being able to physically see or touch those things around you. Whether you believe me or not, I can see the real you. You are a good soul, a warrior for what is right, and what is good. You may sometimes do things that, like you said, upset people. But, you are, whether you see it or not, pointed in the right direction. And you have a special purpose that will eventually be revealed. Trust me.”

  Torbin felt a small shiver down his spine. He always felt weird when people spoke about matters of a more spiritual plane, especially Abigail, who seemed to have a direct line to something outside his existence, his reality. Maybe it was God, the Great Spirit, or even The Force. Whatever. Bottom line, he trusted her. She could believe whatever she wanted about him. He only knew how to be himself, and no one else. She seemed to like who he was, so nothing else mattered.

  “Well, my dear, I will leave matters of the spiritual plane in your capable hands. I will deal with the here and now. When we reach the area near Rock Springs, there is a former truck stop and gas station that has a hardline telephone connected to the main trunk lines that our people re-established. I memorized all the locations of operational telephones before we took on the Eaters in Evanston. If it hasn’t been hit by an asteroid, we can call Security Control and see how close the team they sent out is to us. Then we can decide if we wait for them or try to meet them on the road.”

  They continued driving down the Interstate. Abigail grabbed a drink from the cooler Doc had given them, and sipping it, asked, “Why did you shoot Talbot in the foot?”

  Torbin chuckled. “Well, I would have liked to bring him along and interrogate him later. However, with just the two of us, and other bad guys around, that was not a good idea. I decided on a little bit of constructive terror instead, to give him something to think about. Especially if he and the others tried to follow us. Bonus—it slows him down.”

  “Why not just kill him?”

  “As you said once before, I kill because I have to. Killing is something I do well, but it is not who I am. I do not kill prisoners. At least not human ones.”

  Abigail paused, processing what Torbin said.

  “Torbin, if you and Uncle Buck had not been there, I would have been tempted to put them down like the mad beasts that they are. But, I don’t kill prisoners either.”

  “Point taken. Although, I’ll admit that when they started to abuse and molest you, I thought about killing all of them too. But, the way you took care of the two who laid hands on you was definite poetic justice.”

  Abigail sighed. “I did what came to me automatically. Yes, I was angry and afraid. So, I did what was the fastest way to neutralize them. I will have to try to control myself in the future.”

  Torbin glanced at her.

  “No harm, no foul. It turned out okay in the end. I bet you they’ll think twice about abusing some young woman in the future. Though two of them may lack the intact equipment to even have those thoughts.”

  Abigail’s mouth had a wisp of a smile. Torbin knew that the level of violence she perpetrated was as much of a surprise to her as it was to him, and was definitely a surprise to the Krakens. He knew that a maturing female teenager with all the typical hormones that accompanied puberty made for some very strong feelings. The fact she had been in a warrior society for the past six years complicated things. Torbin hoped his wife and company could help her achieve maturation into full womanhood. As a man, he was definitely limited in his expertise.

  “Anyway, I think we are approaching that truck stop I mentioned. Please keep an eye out for it.”

  About ten minutes later, they saw the exit with the truck stop. Torbin pulled off and saw a sign he believed had just been a joke from years gone by. It read, “Eat and Get Gas.”

  Underneath it said, “Mom and Pop’s Place. Treat Us Right, We Treat You Right.”

  The current building looked like a downsized version of a once larger structure, with the remains of a foundation around the perimeter. There were a half dozen gas pumps in front of a combination store and café. Behind the buildings were parked a couple of oversized repair bays, big enough to take full semi-tractor trailers. They seemed to still be functional. Set away from the main structure was a small two story watch tower. Manning it was what looked to be a teenage boy with a 12 gauge pump.

  Torbin pulled up to the pumps directly in front of the doors to the café. Above the double doors was a sign, “Good Eats and Drinks. Ice and Ice Cream.”

  In smaller writing, �
�We take greenbacks, gold, silver, guns, furs, venison, and homemade goods in payment. Be ready to barter.”

  “Well, Abigail, I have a few greenbacks. Let’s find the phone and then maybe a coffee.”

  Abigail smiled. “This looks like a friendly place. Are there many small business open in the Unoccupied States?”

  “More and more every day. Just over a year ago the government began a concerted effort to get people reconnected with their neighboring communities. The weather has gotten better and people are coming out of their holes. We are experiencing a rebirth, even if some of it is because we are leaching power and info off of the Squid controlled areas. Whatever the reason, what we used to call ‘civilization’ is on the mend.”

  They got out of the SUV and entered the establishment. They were met with a slightly grizzled older man, medium height and build, with a baseball cap proudly proclaiming “USAF Veteran”.

  “Hello there. You must be Captain Bender, and you’re the young Mormon. No, I’m not psychic. I just got a call from Security Control to keep an eye out for you.”

  Torbin chuckled. He was going to owe the guys on the Central Control staff many, many drinks.

  The man continued. “Call me Cal, short for Calvin. They asked me to tell you that your guys are about an hour away. That was about ten minutes ago. Mother! Company!”

  A woman in her very well preserved fifties came out from the back, wiping her hands on a clean apron. “Hi! Glad you made it. You’re quite the talk of the town Captain, as they used to say.”

  Then she spoke to Abigail. “Dear, why don’t you come with me? You’ve got something on your sleeves that is going to stain if we don’t wash it now. Calvin, show the Captain where he can wash his hands.”

  Only then did Torbin realize that his hands had bloodstains around the knuckles. A glance at Abigail and he suddenly noticed for the first time that both sleeves of her fatigue blouse were quite stained with blood. How had he not noticed that before? Cal glanced at Torbin, and saw the sudden concern in his eyes. “Easy, son. I can tell you’ve just had some recent problems. Mother will take care of your friend. What’s her name?”

  “Abigail.”

  “Nice name. Now, come with me and you can wash up. Then you can move that SUV around back. No sense advertising you’re here just yet.”

  As Torbin washed up in the back, Mother—whose first name actually Jean—had gotten Abigail to take off her top. She had a lightweight Kevlar vest over a sports bra underneath her shirt. Fortunately, the blood hadn’t soaked through to that, though she had spare underwear in her pack.

  “My name is Jean. What’s yours?”

  “Abigail. Ma’am.”

  “Oh, don’t Ma’am me, please. I ought to Ma’am you, being a Captain and all. Father has set up an industrial washer and dryer set in the back. A little prewash and the stains will come right out.”

  Abigail looked down. “It’s blood. Sorry.”

  Jean stopped. She reached out and began to rub the back of Abigail’s neck. “No need to be sorry about anything. I’ve seen my share of blood and guts, the last few years. You do what you have to do to survive, especially if you’re a woman.”

  “I…didn’t even notice it, the blood. It’s like blood on me or around me is normal. I don’t think that is what a good Mormon girl should consider normal.”

  Jean leaned closer. “Dear, until we get rid of the Squids and their asshole help, ‘normal is as normal does’. Believe me, I know. Now, sit and relax. Pamela!” she called.

  A young voice about Abigail’s age called back. “Yes, mother?”

  “Could you get this young lady a cup of tea?”

  “Will do!” A blond-haired teenager came out from the back wiping flour from her hands with her apron. She stuck out her right hand for Abigail to shake. Her grip was firm and confident. “I’m Pamela. Pleased to meet you. You’re from Deseret, right?”

  “Yes, I am. I’m Abigail Young. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.” She noticed the flour residue. “You were… baking?”

  “Yeah, making a bunch of pies. I make very good pies, if I do say so myself. My mother and grandma taught me when I was young. Nothing like kneading dough to take your mind off of things.”

  “I never learned how to bake,” Abigail said, her voice a bit quiet. Pamela and her mother exchanged looks in a a form of nonverbal communication. “Come on. Wash your hands. First lesson while we wait for your friends to show. You’ve got a very strong grip, so this should be easy. Come on. Times a-wastin’, like Grandma used to say.”

  Torbin finished washing his bloody knuckles, making sure that the damage was minor. Some of the blood may have been Kraken biker blood. After he was finished, he and Cal unloaded the equipment from the SUV, and moved it around back. They had found a holstered .45 Auto on a belt with spare magazines, a tube fed 22 auto rifle with a crude silencer on it, a small single shot .410 shotgun, and a Mini-14 rifle. Had the Krakens decided to shoot first and ask questions later, Torbin and Abigail would have been in trouble. The poorly executed plan to take them alive and without bullet holes, had been their downfall. Torbin also took out Abigail’s pack and weapons, the cooler, as well as the double barrel 12 gauge and the bolt action scoped rifle. Torbin hefted the rifle, then handed it to Cal. “Here, consider this payment for services rendered. Looks like a 30.06 Remington.”

  Cal took it gently from his hand. “This is a rifle. I can’t take this. This is over payment.”

  Torbin looked at him. “Consider it for past payment also, for being an Air Force vet. Did you fly?”

  Cal snorted. “Did I fly? Hell, as a young Lieutenant, I flew as a Buff co-pilot. B-52 Bomber for you Marines. I flew strikes during the First Gulf War. Later, I was a Lt. Colonel during the Iraqi War, and blew the hell out of them again. I was a Squadron Commander, and Command Pilot. Made full bird, did twenty-two years, then retired to raise my family, which I started late with a younger wife. Took me years to find the right woman—Mother, in the other room. How about you? Married?”

  “Newlywed, Colonel. Little over a month. Aleks, my wife, says she knows she is already pregnant. Says my sperm were typical Marines, charged right up the beach, and penetrated the target.”

  They both laughed. “Did you want to fly again, Colonel?”

  “Please, call me Cal. No, I’m too old to fly against the Squids, even if they could find an operational Buff. Besides, before we knew it, our aircraft and airfields were pretty much trashed. My family and I came here, as I had a friend who owned this truck stop.” He sighed. “John died the first year, killed by a looter, who I shot dead. His wife slit her wrists. Their son and daughter had been away at college when the Squids hit, never to be seen again. So after John was gone, she had nothing left.”

  His face had a slightly grim countenance. “I’m either the luckiest man around, or an Angel was watching over me. My whole immediate family—my wife, son, and two daughters—and I survived, kept this place running during the long winter. My older daughter, Shannon, is up in your neck of the woods, training to be a soldier. She’s twenty, Pamela’s eighteen, Jim’s sixteen. Like I said, I started a bit late in life.

  “Some of your guys showed up about a year and a half ago, got the telephone lines working again, got some underground power lines to a substation in Rock Spring. The town is working again. Wyoming is mining coal, natural gas, uranium, even a little bit of gold and silver. We just need to be repopulated. Those damned Eaters in Evanston did not help matters. I imagine you had something to do with those.”

  “Guilty as charged, Cal. Abigail was there also. In fact, that’s how we met. Killing Eaters.”

  Cal looked mildly surprised. “That young lady is full of surprises. You’ll take care of her, won’t you? She reminds me of my daughters, but hasn’t had much of a childhood, has she?”

  Torbin paused, then decided this man could be trusted. Hell, he saw the situation right away. Being a former Commander, he was probably experienced with young people
away from friends and family, or without either.

  “Cal, we just bumped into her last living relative in less than ideal conditions. He chose to take off on his own, got me to promise to take care of her. I plan to.”

  Cal stuck his hand out. “Shake, Captain. It is an honor to meet someone with your character. Not to mention someone who just nuked the Squids.”

  “I helped, but someone else actually dropped it. I’ll tell you the story sometime, after they declassify it. You need to call me Torbin, if I call you Cal. It’s only fair.”

  “Fine, Torbin. Now, let’s see what the women are up to. I have discovered that if you leave them alone for too long, they start scheming.” They found Abigail and Pamela giggling like a couple of schoolgirls as the Avenging Angel learned the finer points of pie crust making. She had a wide grin plastered on her face, and white flour on her nose. Torbin stifled a laugh, knowing she was still a bit sensitive about her appearance.

  “Captain.” Pamela beamed. “Your friend here is a natural in pie crust construction and dough wrestling. If she needs a second career, have her come here, we’ll put her to work.”

  Abigail blushed a bit. “You are exaggerating, Pamela. Most of the flour ended up all over the floor and I, not in the dough.”

  “Well, what do you think a successful baker looks like? That just shows you are really into your work.” Everyone was laughing when they heard a blast from an air horn.

  “Shit!” Cal exclaimed. “Come on. There are strangers coming, and Jimmy doesn’t like their looks.”

  Abigail still had her Glock on, so she went looking for her pack. Torbin quickly found the double barrel with the one charged barrel and ran out the east side of the store. He shot a glance up at the watchtower and saw Jimmy unrolling a tarp over the front of the structure. Judging by the way it unfurled, it was likely that there were plates and sections of armor or Kevlar sewn in.

  He gazed down the access road. Two vehicles were approaching, a SUV and the sedan he and Abigail had been using before its tires were flattened. Shit. They had found spare tires way too quickly. Now the Krakens were here.