Collapse Fiction: RACE WARS: SEASON SIX: Episodes 31-36: A Time For Choosing

by D. W. Ulsterman

  Moses turned his face upward and then Sabina screamed again as she saw a portion of his left cheek begin to slide off, revealing red-hued bone underneath. Unusually large droplets of scorching rain began to fall from the sky which caused the ground to hiss smoke like a thousand angry snakes. Another of those droplets struck Moses on the bridge of the nose and again a section of skin melted away to reveal yet another portion of bone underneath. His eyes appeared to somehow widen beyond the borders of their sockets as his lips drew back into a wide, horrified grimace as he loomed mere inches from Sabina’s face.

  “Why are you still here, child? Don’t stop until you see me again! NOW GO!”

  Sabina awoke clutching the sides of the RV passenger seat while she struggled to take a deep breath. To her left sat Jackson who had offered to drive soon after they had passed the burnt out remnants of the little white church in Avon, Montana that Father Garcia had recommended they would find a Father Espinoza to help them on their journey to wherever they intended to go.

  There was no church or Father Espinoza in the small town of Avon. There was nothing but charred wood and a sense of some terrible thing that had recently happened. Sabina drove onward as quickly as the RV would safely take them on the increasingly narrow, rural roads of western Montana. They looked upon the snow-capped mountain peaks as they continued travelling on Route 12 through a rugged pass that Sabina knew would eventually take them to Helena.

  She had no intention of entering Helena though, thinking it best to avoid such a large urban area. Instead she turned the RV north onto Blue Cloud Road and then pulled over to allow Jackson to drive. Sabina had little memory of sitting in the passenger seat as her own great fatigue allowed sleep to take her almost instantly.

  “You ok, Mom?”

  Sabina gave her son a quick smile and then noted how far west the sun had fallen.

  “How long have I been asleep?”

  Jackson kept his eyes on the road as he answered. His driving skills had improved considerably, an improvement born of necessity since the Race Wars had started.

  “A couple hours – we just passed a sign that said Austin Road is about ten miles ahead. Oh…and it looks like we have just a few gallons of diesel left.”

  Sabina rubbed the sleep and the remnants of the horrible dream from her eyes, though the sound of the old black man’s voice still lingered in her mind.

  Why are you still here, child? Don’t stop until you see me again! NOW GO!

  “Uh…Mom, there are some men up ahead.”

  Sabina pushed back her fatigue and narrowed her eyes to try and get a better look at the men Jackson spoke of.

  “Slow down, Jackson.”

  The RV’s speed was reduced to just over ten miles per hour as Sabina peered through the windshield and scanned the area surrounding the single-lane bridge that spanned a large creek that dissected the road. An older, green pickup truck was parked lengthwise across the bridge entrance and two men armed with bolt-action rifles stood watching the RV’s slow approach.

  Mika made her way to the front of the RV with both Bosco and Clyde following close behind.

  “What’s going on, Mom?”

  Sabina stood up from the passenger seat while keeping her eyes locked upon the two men.

  “I don’t know yet, Mika. You and the dogs go back to the bedroom and stay there for now, ok?”

  Mika did as she was told. In the short time that had passed since the Race Wars had started, Mika had learned to trust her mother’s protective instincts.

  “Stop here, Jackson but keep it running.”

  The RV slowed to a complete stop approximately a hundred yards from the bridge entrance. The two men looked back at the RV but made no indication they intended to move toward it.

  “What are they doing? Why are they just standing there?”

  Sabina shook her head.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Mom, there’s a truck coming up behind us!”

  Sabina felt her stomach tighten as she realized they had driven into a trap. She turned and ran the short distance from the front of the RV to the back bedroom where she then looked through the plastic blinds covering the vehicle’s rear window.

  Directly behind them was a rust-covered bluish pickup truck that was parked no more than twenty feet behind the RV. Sabina and Mika watched as the driver door opened and a shortish, stocky, middle-aged man emerged carrying an older, twelve-gauge shotgun. Part of his face was covered in a salt and pepper goatee, and a tattered, red baseball cap was housed atop his head. He wore a thick, brown jacket and olive-colored khakis with a pair of badly scuffed, brown cowboy boots.

  “Hello there! Don’t want anyone doing anything stupid, ok? You’re driving through our neck of the woods and we just need to make certain you don’t intend to do any of us harm so please come on out – but no funny business or it will end badly for you.”

  The man’s voice was calm, though slightly high-pitched. He made his way slowly to the side of the RV with his shotgun at the ready.

  “Come on out, now! Hurry up!”

  Clyde issued a low, soft growl as the man rapped the side of the RV with his knuckles.

  “Let’s go! I ain’t got all day and it’s getting cold out here!”

  Sabina moved herself back to the front of the RV. By the time she got there the man had positioned himself directly underneath the left side driver window and was staring at Jackson.

  “Hello there, young man. Are you in charge?”

  Jackson shook his head but said nothing. Sabina gently pulled her son off of the driver’s seat and then took his place. She glanced at the hunting rifle she had earlier placed just behind the seat to make certain it was still there.

  “What do you want?”

  The man’s fleshy face broke into a wide smile as he looked up at Sabina’s face through the RV’s side window.

  “Well hello there! What do I want? It’s just like I said, you’re driving through our territory here and we need to make certain you don’t intend any harm. That’s it. Are you all white folks?”

  Sabina nodded.

  “Yes, just me and my two kids.”

  The man nodded his approval.

  “Good, that makes this a whole lot simpler then. Us white people got to stick together, am I right? Things have gone nuts! You’re safe now, ma’am. We got a real good thing going here. My name is Emmett, Emmett Till. Now before we let you pass over that bridge there I just need to inspect your vehicle to make sure what you say is true, ok? I apologize for the inconvenience, but this is the way it has to be.”

  Sabina tried very hard not reveal the fear growing within her.

  “What if we just turn around and drive away?”

  The man’s eyes flashed something uncomfortably close to anger before the smile returned and he shook his head.

  “Sorry, ma’am, it’s too late for that. Now I need you and anyone else inside there to come on out, and no funny business, please. We don’t want to hurt nobody, but make no mistake…we will.”

  Sabina silently cursed to herself, feeling it was her fault her family was so easily trapped by at least three men motivated by unknown intent.

  “Ok, give us a few minutes, please.”

  Sabina backed away from the window and motioned Jackson and Mika to crouch closer to her inside the RV so she could whisper to them.

  “We stay calm until I say otherwise, ok? Avoid eye contact with them. There’s a good chance they’re as uncertain of us as we are of them – and stay close to me.”

  Both Mika and Jackson nodded.

  Sabina stood up, took a deep breath, and then made her way outside with her two children close behind her, though with each step she took, the warnings from the old black man in her dream named Moses continued to echo in her head:

  They’ll want you to stay, and you might think it a good idea, but it ain’t! Keep on going! I’ll be here waiting, but my time is short, so don’t you go wasting it!

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  EPISODE THIRTY-FOUR:

  Shortwave Radio Broadcast:

  I promised you a sign, listeners, and that sign has come in the form of the recent destruction in Washington D.C. The White House is gone. The Capitol Building is gone. The Pentagon is seriously damaged. If all of you out there were waiting for an opportunity to fight back – THIS IS YOUR CHANCE.

  I have it on very good authority that military operations are being relocated to the West and that a skeleton crew of various government agencies will be overseeing the day-to-day operations that continue to imprison citizens in the urban areas, and have the rest of you fighting among yourselves to survive in the rural areas.

  STOP FIGHTING ONE ANOTHER!

  You are not the enemy – they are! The only way they win is to keep you divided. Don’t let them do it!

  The man you are to fear the most at this moment goes by the name of Dr. Fenwick Sage. He is head of the Environmental Protection Agency. Many of you have likely already seen their helicopters flying overhead. He is a sadist, a globalist, a man with no allegiance to the history or laws of this nation and he views most of you as little more than insignificant inconveniences to be eliminated.

  Now if we are to…

  Hold on, listeners I appear to have some visitors. I can hear the chopper preparing to land. I see armed men approaching from the both the front and back of my property.

  Remember that EPA I was just telling you about? It seems they have decided to pay me a visit. I will try and stay on the air for as long as possible.

  There are definitely two armed men nearing my front door. Neither appears to be U.S. military. No, definitely not military. These are…these are armed agents of the Environmental Protection Agency. They have assault rifles and are pointing them at my front window. They can see me and I can see them. Two more armed EPA agents are now taking positions in the back of the house. They are both carrying assault rifles as well. I’m outnumbered, outgunned…there will be no fighting my way out of this one.

  The helicopter sounds as if it is now directly above my home. The floorboards are literally shaking beneath my feet! I can now see the chopper. It has a large EPA logo on the side and is slowly lowering itself in the yard area at the front of the home.

  Hold on…hold on…one of the men is instructing me to remain seated. He’s yelling out his order while the chopper completes its landing. He’s yelling but I can hardly hear him.

  Ok, the chopper is powering down. And now…two more armed EPA agents have emerged from the chopper. They appear to be waiting for someone. It’s lightly raining outside, a slight breeze. It’s late afternoon, perhaps a couple more hours of daylight left.

  They’re watching me speaking to all of you. They’re still waiting for…ok, there he is. That’s who they’ve been waiting for. It’s Fenwick Sage, head of the EPA. He’s just exited the helicopter. The two armed men are escorting him toward the house. They look very tense, almost afraid but Sage…Sage looks just as I remember him, every inch the arrogant, psychotic asshole that he is.

  He’s dressed in a dark blue suit, white dress shirt, and red tie. He’s very short, a very small-small man in both stature and basic humanity. I need you to understand that, listeners. Fenwick Sage can be defeated. He will be defeated if only we come together to make it so. Your fear is his greatest power. Take that power from him! Don’t fear this pathetic, little thing!

  Sage is right outside my door now. He’s looking right at me and smirking. He wants me to open the door. I am going to leave the microphone on and continue transmitting. My voice will sound farther away because it is. Stay with me!

  Hello again, Dr. Sage. It doesn’t appear I have much of a choice so come in. Yes, I am transmitting this conversation. You can silence me, but my voice will continue to shout out the truth of what you are doing to this country. You cannot possibly win this war, Dr. Sage. I know war, and I know when I am looking at a man wholly unprepared to fully engage upon the battlefield. You WILL fail, sir. Thousands are already preparing to take the fight to you, and soon those thousands will be tens of thousands and then millions.

  I don’t fear you, and neither will they. We will see you----

  A single gunshot echoed into the microphone followed by a heavy thud. Faint footsteps grew louder, until the microphone picked up the sound of breathing.

  A different voice then spoke, far more sinister and seething, like a cold wind approaching from the impenetrable darkness. It spoke to all those listening to the broadcast. It hissed its warning to them, mocking, assured, and openly eager to see them suffer the fate he had prepared for them.

  Hello everyone, my name is Dr. Fenwick Sage. If you don’t know who I am, you will, and very-very soon…

  The transmission abruptly ended.

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  General John Meyers was not yet dead but he was certain he would be soon. This was not his first combat injury, though it was to be his last. His right lung was already fully collapsed from the chest wound, making each breath increasingly difficult.

  The bullet had nicked the general’s spine upon exiting his body, taking away his ability to control his legs. He opened his eyes and saw the cruel, lean features of Fenwick Sage looking down upon him.

  “Such a terrible waste, General, you have betrayed your government. Did you really think you would continue to get away with your ridiculous radio transmissions? Did you think we would not find you?”

  General Meyers tried to laugh but it came out a wheezing, blood-soaked gurgle. His lips pulled back in a pained smile. He refused to show fear, and was even more determined to not give Sage even a hint of respect.

  “Go to hell you…midget."

  One of Sage’s dark, highly polished dress shoes slammed into the generals’ groin.

  “I’m sorry, General, I’m afraid I didn’t quite hear that.”

  General Meyers was spared the full infliction of attempted pain against him on Sage’s part due to his partially severed spine. He felt little more than a dull pressure from the kick.

  “You…won’t win. We will stop you.”

  Sage smiled as he shook his head.

  “You’re a stubborn old fool, General, like so many of your kind placing such importance on those medal-adorned uniforms you’re all so fond of wearing - little toy soldiers marching to and fro.”

  Sage folded his spindly arms across his small chest and then looked through the wide window overlooking the lake outside.

  “It took us a few days to discover this cabin of yours. You kept it in your father-in-law’s name. That was clever, but not clever enough. Then it was a matter of doing a voice analysis. That took several more days thanks to the electronic altering of your voice, but again, not clever enough. Do you see a pattern here, General Meyers? I will always win – always.”

  The general gasped as a large blood-bubble exploded upon the lips of his open mouth. For several seconds he struggled to take a breath until finally he was able to do so.

  “You didn’t have to die like this, General. You could have continued to play soldier, or retired out here to be left alone while I continued doing the work that must be done. Admiral Briggs understands this is how it must be. He will be handling the exterior threat while I am left to deal with the interior threat.”

  Sage paused again as he considered whether he wanted to continue sharing his plans with the dying military officer.

  He decided he did.

  “Tell me, General Meyers, are you aware of just how much napalm-related weaponry our military has been stockpiling for the last several decades? It’s a truly remarkable amount, really. I could hardly believe it myself.”

  General Meyers shut his eyes tightly so he could focus on ignoring his own pain instead of Sage’s self-important ramblings.

  “We still have thousands of pounds of the old Vietnam-era napalm B in storage throughout various military facilities and Admiral Briggs was generous enough to agree to my request to use as much of it as I de
em necessary. He kept the bombs, the planes, tanks, aircraft and of course all of this nation’s nuclear capability for himself and his attempts to stave off the Russian and Chinese aggression, but the napalm is all mine. We are at this very moment preparing hundreds of easily modifiable canisters and arming several of our EPA helicopters with them. Each canister will be capable of destroying a thousand square yards, General. The burning of flesh, and lungs, and useless lives that are nothing more than wasteful consumers of our valuable resources will be brought to a necessary and final conclusion. This rebellion you hope to see form will be burnt to a crackling crisp, I promise you that. It is a horrible death, as I assume you well know. Even if one survives the initial burning, there is the period of deoxygenation that reduces human beings to nothing more than fish gasping for air while flailing upon dry land.”