by Bobby Akart
“Not exactly,” interrupted Brad, effectively saving Katie from the death stare. “We need to lend the appearance that he is being brought in for questioning. I don’t want to raise suspicion with the people of Belchertown, or the governor, as to our motivations. I prefer to look at this as an abduction.”
“Where do we take him, Fort Devens?” asked Steven.
“Yes. We’ll lock him up with the rest of O’Brien’s thugs,” replied Brad. “At some point, we’ve got to come up with a plan for those guys. I can’t hold them forever. Hell, I can’t feed them forever.”
“Okay, this is doable,” said Steven. “What else?”
“While you’re there, see what you can learn,” said Brad. “This fellow Archibald, a former attorney, is the head of the Citizen Corps in the region. I believe he might be planning an assault on Prescott Peninsula.”
“We’ll find out what’s going on,” said Steven.
“I’ve got the best of the best out there running security, but we’re outmanned,” said Brad. “The front gate is relatively secured by the fence and the team I have in place, but the shoreline perimeter is massive. If they come at us all at once or in a concentrated location, we’d get overrun. Try to get a feel for their numbers. Are they training? How will they come at us? You know the drill.”
“Got it,” said Steven.
Sarge stood and walked toward the window and cleared his throat. Brad knew his friend was analyzing their conversation.
“What do you think, Sarge?” asked Brad.
“Sun Tzu, in The Art of War, argued a brilliant general was one that could win without fighting,” he replied. He returned to the group. “I just wonder if there is a way to get Belchertown to stand down.”
*****
The group weighed their options on dealing with Belchertown and also traded information on what was going on around the country. The President was scheduled to address the nation at 9:00 p.m. Because of the late hour, Sarge did not want to risk firing up the generators just for the privilege of watching the President on the Hughes satellite network. They were still diligent in practicing light and noise discipline in the evening. Julia brought in the radio, and she tuned it to the local emergency broadcast station that was recently activated.
“Here we go,” she said. Everyone gathered around the radio, a scene reminiscent of the 1930s.
“Good evening. Tonight, my fellow Americans, and citizens of the world, I come to you with information about the source of the vicious cyber attack perpetrated upon our nation and its critical infrastructure.
“During my address of two weeks ago, I pledged to you that we would identify our attackers and bring them to justice. We now have credible evidence that the attack on our nation was undertaken at the behest of the Russians.
“As a nation, we are at a crossroads between war and peace, between disorder and hostility, between hope and fear. Around the globe, we have received an outpouring of support from our allies and from some unlikely sources. Over the years, our country has inserted itself into the affairs of others, and one might think that this act of aggression against us is well deserved.
“It is not for Russia to act as judge and jury on the sins of our past. Recently, Russian aggression in Europe recalls the days when large nations trampled smaller ones in pursuit of territorial ambition or economic gain. They have their own cross to bear.
“Despite this act of aggression against us, the United States must continue to meet our responsibility to observe and enforce international norms. It is my belief that we gain more from cooperation than conquest.
“Over one hundred years ago, a World War claimed the lives of many millions, proving that with the terrible power of modern weaponry, the pursuit of an ever-expanding empire ultimately leads to the graveyard. Some suggest that it might take another World War to roll back the forces of imperialism, the notions of racial supremacy, and nationalistic aggression to ensure that no nation can subjugate its neighbors and claim their territory.
“Now is not the time for such a war, although the actions of the Russians clearly justify it. I have a vision for this world as one in which a nation’s borders cannot be redrawn by another. Whatever the motivations may have been for the Moscow government to undertake this attack upon our nation, America must defend herself.” The President paused for a moment, and the radio broadcast went silent. He continued.
“Tonight, I am invoking Article Five of the North Atlantic Treaty, which provides that an attack on one member state shall be considered an attack on all. I am asking NATO member nations to join us in the defense of America against the hostilities initiated by Russia.
“Further, I have formally invited the United Nations peacekeeping forces into the United States for the purposes of law enforcement activities to quell social unrest. This will free up our military to protect our borders against further Russian aggression. I have already spoken with Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon, who has all available forces in route to our shores. Their presence will be felt immediately, and they will be on prominent display.
“Until this threat passes, we must maintain order on our streets. The most vulnerable among us will suffer if we do not. Together, in concert with our NATO allies and the UN peacekeeping forces, we will meet the challenges we face. We will take concrete steps to address the danger posed against our nation from outside our borders as well as from those within our borders.
“Tonight, I ask every American to participate in this effort. Those who have joined their local Citizen Corps office in rebuilding our community will find their lives fulfilled and their family well fed. For our citizens who refuse to comply with the reasonable guidelines I have established for the protection and rebuilding of the nation, I suggest that the future of this nation belongs to those who are prepared to rebuild, not destroy. That’s an immediate challenge to you, my fellow Americans, and it is the first challenge we must meet.
“Join me, so that we may focus our attention on the enemy who put us in these inexplicable circumstances. If you refuse, you risk suffering the same fate as our enemies.”
Chapter 29
Saturday, September 24, 2016
7:26 a.m.
100 Beacon
Boston, Massachusetts
Brad joined Sarge on the roof with a cup of coffee. Sarge was finishing up his shift on perimeter patrol of 100 Beacon. He took the mug and inhaled the aroma.
“Good morning,” greeted Sarge as he took his first sip. He looked out across an increasingly quiet Boston cityscape. One of the oldest cities in the nation, and the twenty-fourth largest, was desolate. Three weeks into the collapse, people were dying from dehydration caused by dysentery, lack of food, and, now increasingly, murder. “Normally, the roar of commuters into downtown would be deafening. Today, you can actually hear the geese on the Charles. I have to be honest, in a way, I like it.”
“Most of us never stop to appreciate the things around us because we create busy lives for ourselves,” said Brad. “Even when we take time off from our jobs and activities, most of us insist upon having the television on or an iPad attached to our arms. It was nearly impossible for many Americans to sit still, much less quietly. Some of our new recruits were counseled for sleep disorders when they first joined our unit.”
“Why?”
“They were unable to fall asleep without a TV going,” replied Brad.
“What did the counselors suggest?”
“Exercise.” Brad laughed as he took a sip of his coffee. “So I ran their asses off before bed every night until they passed out. Problem solved.”
The two men stood in silence for another moment as the sound of an ambulance siren wailed in the distance. Sarge put his rifle down on the table next to his coffee. He rolled his neck and shoulder to ease the tension in his muscles.
“Dammit, Brad, I saw something like this coming. We all knew it was a possibility. During my lectures, I would talk about the various threats our nation faced. I discussed it with peopl
e when the publisher sent me on book signings. Hell, I even engaged people in conversation on Facebook. I just wonder if it sank in to anybody.”
Brad patted Sarge on the back and responded. “Of course it did, Sarge. It rubbed off on me. Listen, with what I’ve seen in combat, I know the horrors of collapse. But I could’ve ignored the warnings because I was surrounded by tanks and troops. You opened my eyes, and I’m sure that you opened the eyes of your students, readers, and yes, your Facebook friends too.”
“I wanted to change people’s perspectives through facts,” said Sarge. “I’ll never forget the debate—no, argument—I had with another Harvard professor. He called me a fearmonger.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding.”
“Nope. He said that my lectures on economic collapse, cyber warfare, and the threats of an EMP attack were nothing more than an attempt to scare my students into following my political ideologies.”
Brad laughed. “Let me guess, you’re also part of the tinfoil-hat crowd.”
“Yep, that too,” replied Sarge. “Isn’t it incredible that a group of people so intent upon teaching tolerance are the first to demean and call names?”
“Oh yeah,” replied Brad.
“Think of the stigma attached to the term preppers,” Sarge continued. “One time, I went to Google to research the prepper’s mentality. I start typing in the letters and then Google auto-populates preppers mental illness and preppers mental disorder. Google doesn’t lie.”
“That’s a joke!” shouted Brad.
“Well, maybe their algorithm doesn’t lie. Most people’s perceptions are developed through the news media, television, and movies. The mainstream media reports typically portray the preppers in a negative light. It’s hard to lead a preparedness lifestyle when you are constantly vilified for it.”
“Look around us, Sarge,” said Brad. “You saw this coming, and you made sure all of us were ready. We owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“Thanks, Brad. But we all have played an important role in surviving this collapse, now I think we might end up playing a bigger role in putting the country back together. Something inside me says that our work is yet to come.”
The rooftop door opened, and Steven emerged with Katie in tow. “Hey, we’re ready to shove off.”
“Yeah, J.J. is coming with us too,” added Katie.
“Really? I thought he needed more time,” said Sarge.
“Julia spoke to Susan,” replied Katie. “I guess Penny Quinn is having trouble with her braces. J.J. is now our Armageddon orthodontist too.” The group laughed.
Steven pulled Sarge aside and whispered, “You guys got this? It’ll be just the two of you for a couple of days.”
“Yeah,” Sarge replied. “There are reports from the Mechanics of black gang activity towards the South End in Jamaica Plain, around Fenway, and especially on the South Boston Waterfront. I guess MS-13 got frustrated with the tunnels being guarded by our new friend the White Devil. They took to the water as an alternative. So far, nothing has happened in Back Bay or Beacon Hill.”
“Okay, bro. If you’re scared, I can leave Katie behind to protect you.” Steven slapped his brother on the back with a hearty laugh.
“Screw you, asshole,” replied Sarge. “Take care of yourself out there. No hero shit, okay?”
“Yes, dear.” Steven scampered off as Sarge pretended to draw his .45 from its holster.
*****
After Brad left with the others, Sarge found Julia in the kitchen, cleaning her sidearm. He admired her beauty for a moment. Just three weeks ago, they were having an intimate conversation about their future. Then the lights went out, and the world turned upside down.
“You look really sexy right now,” said Sarge as Julia put her gun back together. “You know, we’re alone for the first time in several weeks. Maybe we should…”
“Forget it, horn-dog.” Julia laughed as she evaded his grasp. “I want to go downstairs and check on our neighbors. We’ve been able to help them with some food and water, but they have to be running out of supplies.”
“Fine,” replied Sarge with a pout. “But afterwards…”
“Maybe, big boy. Let’s go see.”
Unconsciously, Sarge and Julia exhibited the new norm as they prepared to leave. Each of them checked their handguns and holstered them. Whenever they left the safe confines of the top three floors, they carried their weapons of choice in the building—the KelTec PLR-16. The PLR, an acronym for pistol, long range, was perfect for close-quarters encounters. It used the same magazine and ammunition as their AR-15 platform rifles. Julia preferred it for its light weight at just a little over three pounds. Sarge liked it because it was well balanced and provided him the same firepower as his beloved Smith & Wesson AR-15.
As they reached the security door, Sarge looked through the peephole to check for any surprise visitors. It was clear. He turned to Julia and spoke.
“Remember, everyone is a potential threat. Behind every unopened door, there could be a weapon pointed at us.”
“Got it,” she replied. “We’ll start from the top and work our way down.”
Sarge led the way as they descended the stairs. He understood Julia’s compassion, but he didn’t like taking unnecessary risks. In times of desperation, even your neighbors could turn on you. He argued this point with her before their first visit to the remaining occupants, to no avail. She insisted on looking after the neighbors.
A vibrant building with an interesting history, 100 Beacon consisted of forty-one-hundred-square-foot floors, which contained multimillion-dollar residences. Now, most of the units were abandoned. The opulent furnishings remained in the upscale units, but were now enjoyed by ghosts.
Sarge and Julia worked their way to the bottom floor, only encountering three occupied flats along the way. Patrolling the bottom floor was Sarge’s least favorite attorney, the man who had paid him a little too much lip service when he was helping the Winthrops and Peabodys into 100 Beacon following the cyber attack.
“Good morning, Mr. Marshall,” greeted Sarge. Attorney Jase Marshall and Sarge were able to set aside their differences, finally, and were on speaking terms. But not on a first-name basis. “How is your new gun working out?”
“Much better, Professor,” said Marshall. “The Garand was clearly inadequate for the war zone in which we live. This shotgun makes more sense for what I’d use it for. Fortunately, I haven’t had to use it since your brother arrived that day. Knock on wood, it’s been pretty quiet.”
“Do you have help with your security?” asked Julia. She handed him a bottle of water out of her backpack and a pack of thirty-six-hundred-calorie ER Bars. He smiled and nodded his thanks. He glanced through the front door before setting his shotgun down to accept the gift.
“I do, but it isn’t much,” he replied. “There’s another resident on the fifth floor next to my place that comes down from time to time, but he isn’t doing so well. He’s been losing a lot of weight and is very weak.”
Sarge and Julia exchanged concerned glances.
“Did he leave the building today?” asked Sarge. They’d knocked on all of the doors as they came down, and nobody answered on the fifth floor.
“No,” Marshall replied. “He took the night shift and I replaced him a few hours ago.”
Sarge nodded. That must be it.
“The building is mostly abandoned now,” observed Julia. The three snapped to attention as a car drove slowly in front of the building before speeding off. “I hope the other residents have located safer surroundings, perhaps with family outside of the city?”
“Mostly,” replied Marshall. “To be honest, I’ve lost track. I’ve located keys to their units in the super’s office. I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve gone through their kitchen cabinets, looking for food and drinks. I’m at a loss otherwise.”
Sarge was witnessing firsthand the effect of the power outage. People were starving. They were losing hope. They were disappearing without noti
ce. This once fully occupied building was down to three residents besides themselves. Eighty percent of his neighbors were gone after just three weeks.
“Mr. Marshall, how well do you know your neighbors?” asked Sarge.
“Pretty well. I was the head of the building’s association of residents. You wouldn’t know that because you never attended any of our meetings.”
Sarge let the comment pass. He continued. “I mean, not the ones who remain, but the residents who have left.”
“We’re all acquainted with each other, if that’s what you mean,” said Marshall. “But I don’t know where they are.”
Julia gave Sarge a puzzled look.
“What if I told you I could bring you some help? I have some trusted friends, good people, that could temporarily occupy these abandoned units and lend a helping hand in the process. Do you think your, I mean our, neighbors would allow them to stay in their homes until this situation gets better?”
Julia whispered, “What are you thinking, Sarge?”
“The Mechanics.”
Chapter 30
Saturday, September 24, 2016
11:06 a.m.
Town Hall
Belchertown, Massachusetts
Archibald and Pearson leaned over the conference table in the property assessor’s office. John Whelihan, the director of assessments, brought out another stack of maps from the plat cabinet.
“This is very confusing,” said Whelihan. “There haven’t been any permits pulled or licenses obtained on Prescott Peninsula since the radio observatory was constructed out there decades ago. Here are the plats for the entire peninsula, including the specific area around the observatory.” Whelihan pointed to the observatory, the present location of 1PP.
Archibald took the plats and rolled them out across the table, using hardbound copies of the Massachusetts General Laws Annotated to hold them down flat. He and Pearson studied them further. Archibald summoned the three men directly reporting to him that had military experience. There were other retired military personnel in the community, but they refused to volunteer their assistance to the Citizen Corps. Archibald told Pearson they would be dealt with after the Prescott Peninsula situation was resolved.
