Executive Orders: Part 2 of the Homeland Series

by R. A. Mathis

  “This isn’t about Sanger. If it’s not her, it’ll be somebody else just like her. This is about power.” Finbarr held the smoldering cigarette in front of his face. “Do you know how much one of these is worth now? The going rate is a day’s rations. An entire pack will buy a man’s life. Supply and demand.” He dropped the cigarette to the floor and ground it into the hard wood under his shoe. “I can get all of them I want. Same goes for food, gasoline, medicine, booze. That’s power. You could have had it, too Hank. All you had to do was play along.”

  “You forgot the part about selling your soul. How many people are dead because you played along.”

  “They would have died anyway. We both know there wasn’t enough food to last until Spring. At least I’m able to make something positive out of it.”

  “How many more people will die to keep you in luxury?”

  “Life is cheap. It’s the one commodity that gets cheaper as the supply dwindles.”

  “Well, it’s been nice catching up with you, Finbarr, but I gotta get going.” Hank cut his eyes toward the footsteps behind him as a deputy approached to within arm’s reach. The other stayed put in the corner of the room. “C’mon guys,” he said to the lawmen. “I trained you better than that. Long rifles are great in the open, but they’re shit in close quarters.”

  Hank spun, kicking the nearest deputy in the gut. The officer’s rifle discharged as he flipped over a chair, sending a bullet into the ceiling. Hank ducked as the second deputy sent a slug inches over his head. He swung his pistol around and pumped two rounds into the shooter’s chest. Blood splattered the wall as the Green Guard crashed to the floor.

  Finbarr bolted to his feet.

  Hank put the revolver to the mayor’s forehead. “How much is your life worth, Mayor?”

  Finbarr’s eyes glazed with terror.

  Hank’s finger tightened on the trigger.

  Crack!

  The riffle butt slammed into the back of Hank’s head sending him to the floor, unconscious.

  The deputy Hank had sent over the chair stood over him, rifle in hand. “You okay, Mayor?”

  “Yeah.” Finbarr slumped back onto the couch, wiping the sweat from his pale face.

  The deputy put the muzzle of his rifle to Hank’s head.

  “No,” Finbarr uttered, “Tie him up. Remember. Sanger wants him alive.”

  8

  MARTHA

  Somewhere in FEMA Region IV

  “Eat!” Amber held the steaming MRE pouch out to Martha. “You need your strength.”

  The congresswoman shook her head and looked away. Her fingers unconsciously tracing the outline of the newly implanted chip in her right hand. “I don’t need strength to be executed.” Her hair and clothes were still covered in dried blood and vomit.

  “Starving yourself won’t help anything.” Amber pushed the food under Martha’s nose. “Eat.”

  “Fine.” Martha grabbed the green metal pouch and took a taste. “Why do you always have to be such a nurse?”

  Amber smiled. “It’s in my blood.” She put her meal into the clear plastic bag that came packaged with every MRE and poured a bit of water in, igniting the chemical heater within. In moments her food was smoking hot. She opened it and took a bite. “Not bad.”

  Martha made a sour face. “Mine tastes like shit.”

  “That’s because I gave you the ham and cheese omelet. Nobody likes that one.”

  “How do you know?”

  “An Army sergeant I met at the hospital told me. That’s why I got the barbecued pork.”

  “And you give me the crappy one.”

  “I didn’t think you’d eat it and I wasn’t about to let barbecued pork go to waste.”

  Martha laughed so hard, egg chunks spewed from her mouth.

  Amber smiled. “That’s better.”

  Martha caught her breath. “I forgot how good it feels to smile. Thank you for that.”

  “It’s what I do.”

  Martha looked around the windowless cell which she guessed to be a converted shipping container. Her eyes settled on the door. A thin streak of sunlight around the frame was the only hint that it was daytime beyond their tiny prison. “How much longer do you think they’ll keep us here?”

  “I don’t know. It’s already been over a week.”

  “That’s the worst part. Not knowing what’s going to happen or when. If I had some idea, at least I could prepare myself.”

  “We have to prepare for the worst.” Amber took Martha’s hand. “But we can still hope for the best.”

  “We can try.”

  A fist pounded the door. The whole room echoed and shuddered.

  The metal entryway swung open.

  Freezing air rushed into the cramped space.

  Amber and Martha shivered as they shielded their eyes from the harsh sunlight glaring through the portal.

  A young Green Guard stood in the opening. He pointed to Amber. “Come with me. Now!”

  Martha grabbed Amber’s arm. “Where are you taking her?”

  “I said to come with me.”

  “No.” Amber wedged herself tightly into a corner.

  The guard grabbed Amber’s legs.

  “NO!” The young nurse kicked furiously at her captor.

  Martha bit him on the arm.

  The guard howled in pain and punched Martha in the face. “Bitch!”

  Blood streamed from Martha’s nose. “Leave her alone!” She grabbed Amber’s arm, pulling with all her might.

  It was no use. The guard dragged Amber, kicking, clawing, and screaming from the cell.

  The door slammed shut. The room went silent.

  The only sounds Martha heard were Amber’s muffled screams and her own weeping.

  9

  COLE

  Political Detention Facility

  Somewhere in FEMA Region IV

  Five Minutes Earlier

  Cole gagged as he and Alex hefted another body into the pit. The stench of death rising from the monstrous hole was overpowering. This was all a part of Alex’s plan. The man was odd, but resourceful. He bribed their way onto the burial detail with two packs of cigarettes the day before. God only knew where he got them.

  Cole spent the night before lying awake, listening to the screams of the fair-haired youngster Foucault’s henchmen dragged from the warehouse several days ago. Foucault kept him alive for hours, taking glee in the teenager’s cries for mercy. Then the boy begged to die. It went on for hours. The moaning. The high-pitched, breathless screams. The begging. Then the screams stopped. Suddenly. Violently. Cole still heard it in his head. He knew he always would. The sounds were locked in his mind, the newest verses in the litany of pain that was his life.

  Alex pulled what was left of last night’s victim from the covered bed of a nearby cargo truck. The fair-headed boy was torn to pieces. Cole gagged again.

  “You get used to it,” Alex said, grabbing the legs of another corpse and dragging it from the vehicle. “The smell is the worst part.” The remains of a pretty young blonde woman flopped to the ground, her dirty face stared up at him, dead eyes boring into his. She was naked. So were the rest of them.

  “Pick up the pace, you two!” A bearded twenty-something Green Guard stood, smoking, near the front of the truck. He was careful to stay close enough that he could monitor the pair as they worked, but far enough away to avoid the sights and smells of the pit.

  Cole looked into the mass grave. The dead were piled in it by the hundreds. Arms, legs, and faces jutted from the rotting heap of humanity. “I hope I never get used to this.” He grabbed the girl’s arms and helped Alex get her into the burial trench.

  “You will.” Alex reached for another body. An old man, black this time, dried blood caked around a bullet hole in the back of his head. “Burial detail happens twice a month. It’s a shitty job, especially when everybody else gets to take the day off, but at least we get an extra ration.”

  “I won’t be hungry.” Cole still fo
ught the urge to vomit as the old man’s remains tumbled into the hole.

  “Be patient,” Alex whispered. “We just have to wait for our chance. It’ll come. This is the only way. Trust me.” Alex reached back onto the truck, grabbing a dead arm. He pulled with a grunt. “Gimme a hand here. This one’s heavy.”

  Cole grabbed the other arm and heaved. The body didn’t budge.

  Both men pulled again. Still nothing.

  “Hurry it up!” The guard shoved Alex’s back with his rifle. “This stench is about to make me puke!”

  “Yes, sir,” Alex responded and put a foot against the truck for leverage.

  Cole did the same. “On three. Ready?”

  Alex nodded.

  “Hurry up!” The guard stood next to them at the back of the truck.

  Cole tightened his grip on the dead man’s arm. “One. Two. Threeeee…”

  The body came free. So did the four others that were stack on top of it. The five corpses toppled from the truck on top of Alex and Cole.

  The guard squealed, backpedaling from the vehicle. His foot found the edge of the trench. Cole looked up as the green sleeve lost his balance, tumbled backward, and disappeared into the pit.

  “Help!” the guard screeched. Cries of pain followed.

  Alex and Cole struggled out from under the avalanche of death. The pair walked to the edge of the pit. They looked down to see the guard entangled in dead limbs. The lifeless appendages fell across him, slithering across his body, covering his screaming face. The macabre members seemed to claw at him, taking what small measure of vengeance that was left to them.

  A ragged head lolled aside to reveal the guards tear-soaked face, his mouth agape in horror. His hands grasped for his right leg, which was broken below the knee. A shaft of bloody bone poked from his thick gray trousers. He spotted Alex and Cole staring at him from above. “Help!” he howled. “Help me!”

  Cole and Alex locked eyes.

  “This is our chance.” Alex looked into the trench. “We need his chip.”

  “Wait here.” Cole scrambled down the dirt wall of the pit to the wailing guard. He bent over the man. “Shut up.” He kicked the greenie in the head. Cole’s hands reached for the rifle which lay just out of the fallen man’s reach.

  “Attention!” Alex yelled from above.

  Cole froze.

  “What’s going on here?” A new voice yelled from the top of the pit. It was another guard. This baby-faced sentry couldn’t have been more than sixteen. He called to his comrade in the hole, “Sebastian! What happened?”

  The injured guard responded. “These two…”

  Cole kicked a dead leg over the man’s face. “He fell in! We were trying to get him out!” His mind raced. He had to buy some time. “His leg is broken! He needs a doctor!”

  “We don’t have one!” the young guard yelled.

  “You better find one or your friend will die. Do you understand? Sebastian will die!”

  “I have an idea!” the young guard exclaimed. “We have a nurse!”

  “Good! Go get her. We’ll get Sebastian out of here.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Go!”

  “You two stay here. I’ll get be right back.” The young guard sprinted away.

  Cole waited for the footsteps to fade. He picked up the rifle and kicked the leg from guard’s panicked face. “It’s just not your day, Sebastian.” He smashed the steel butt of the weapon into the guards face. Blood gushed from the man’s crushed nose. Cole drew the rifle back and hit him again. Then again. Again. Again. Again and again with animal rage. He finally ceased when there was nothing of the man’s skull to break. His trembling arms and face were covered with brain and blood.

  “I think he’s dead,” Alex said sarcastically from above. “Get his chip! We’ll need it at the checkpoints. Hurry!”

  Cole took the guard’s crimson-stained coat. He then rifled through the man’s pockets and found a boot knife. He slung the gun across his back and used the knife to cut the RFID chip from the dead man’s hand.

  “You have to keep it warm.” Alex said. “Those chips are temperature sensitive. That’s how they know if we’ve cut them out. A guy tried that a few eeks ago. The guards found—”

  “I got the point.” Cole held the chip tightly in his fist and began to scale the loose dirt wall. He slipped. The he slipped again. He needed both hands to climb his way out.

  “Hurry!” Alex hissed.

  Cole opened his fist and looked at the small chip. “Dammit.” He put the dirty, bloody capsule in his mouth, tucking it into his cheek and ascended the trench with fresh vigor. Alex helped pull him over the edge of the pit and back to the land of the living.

  Cole sat, gasping for breath at the mouth of the pit. He got to his hands and knees, his head hanging low.

  “Sebastian! Are you okay?” A voice called from behind him. The young guard was back with the nurse. “Hey! Where’s Sebastian?”

  Alex tackled the guard, wrestling him to the ground.

  The guard kicked and screamed, trying to get the wiry prisoner off of him, fighting for control of his rifle.

  Cole pounced onto the guard, driving Sebastian’s knife into the young man’s neck up to the hilt.

  The teenager’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Cole twisted the blade. Gore gushed from the wound. The struggling stopped. So did the guard’s breathing.

  The nurse screamed.

  Alex sprang up and covered her mouth with his bloody hand. “Shut up!”

  “Hey!” Cole pointed at Amber. “I know her!”

  Amber’s eyes darted to the grubby soldier.

  “We met at the hospital in Nashville. I’m the sergeant who brought the food and medical supplies when the power went out.” Cole asked, “Remember?”

  Amber nodded.

  “Can we trust you not to scream?”

  “She nodded again.”

  “Just kill her,” Alex said, “We don’t have time.”

  Amber’s eyes widened.

  “No.” Cole reached out and removed Alex’s hand from Amber’s face. “She’s coming with us.” He crouched and removed the young guard’s jacket. He tossed it to Alex. “Put this on.” He then cut opened the teenager’s hand and removed his chip. Blood and steam oozed from the dead guard’s wound as Cole handed the RFID device to Alex, who tucked in his cheek. Cole wiped his blade clean, then used it to dig the RFID chip from his own hand. His teeth gritted in pain. Crimson streams flowed down his fingers onto the cold ground as he worked the sharp edge into his shuddering flesh. The foreign object finally came free. “Here.” He handed the knife to Alex as he put his chip in the guard’s mouth. “Cut yours out, too.” Cole searched the boy’s remains. Something was rolled up in the youth’s back pocket. Cole removed it and flattened it out with blood soaked hands. It was a comic book. Hank’s throat tightened. “He was just a damn kid.” He put the book back into the pocket.

  Alex dug his chip out, handed it to Cole, who stuffed it in the guard’s mouth.

  Alex turned to Amber and pointed at the lump in the back of her right hand. “Your turn.” He put the blade to her skin.

  “I’ll do it myself.” Amber took the tool from Alex. “I’m a nurse.” She removed the tracking chip from her hand with cool precision and handed it to Cole. This chip also went into the guard’s mouth.

  They rolled the teenage guard into the pit and started to climb into the truck’s cab.

  Cole grabbed Amber’s shoulder as she tried to step into the passenger side. “You get in the back.”

  “With the bodies? I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t have one of these.” He pointed to his coat and armband. “That looks a little suspicious, don’t you think? You don’t have a chip either.” He jerked a thumb toward the back of the truck. “Now get back there and play dead.”

  Amber pointed to Alex. “What about him? He’s skin and bones. He looks dead already. Have you seen any starving guards around he
re?”

  Cole looked at Alex. “She’s got a point.”

  “Okay!” Alex removed his coat and threw it at Amber. He took the guard’s bloody chip from his mouth and held it out to her. “Bon appétit.”

  Amber took the RFID and gagged as she tucked it in her cheek.

  Alex climbed in the back. “Now get us the hell out of here.”

  Cole and Amber raised the tailgate then hurried to the cab.

  “Here we go.” Cole started the engine.

  “We have to bring Martha with us,” Amber insisted.

  “Who is Martha?”

  “Congresswoman Martha Jefferson.”

  “The one running for President?”

  “Yes.” Amber pointed to a storage container near the guards’ quarters. “She’s in there.”

  “My guys come first, then we’ll get her if we can.” He put the truck in gear and headed to the warehouse.

  *****

  A murmur rose from the inhabitants of the warehouse at the sound of the heavy transport halting outside the door.

  Hick’s had been sleeping. He grimaced with agony as he sat up to see what was going on.

  “I thought we had today off?” said a prisoner next to him.

  Hicks shuffled toward the door.

  Truck doors opened. Footsteps followed. Then tugging at the door.

  “It’s me! Sergeant Sexton! I’m here to get you out.”

  The murmur turned to a clamor as men rushed to the door.

  More frantic yanking on the door. “It’s locked! Try to push from your side.”

  Inmates rushed to the entrance and pushed like men possessed. The door didn’t budge.

  “It’s no use!” Cole yelled through the door. “Back up! I’m gonna ram it!” He turned back to the truck.

  “No!” Amber blocked his path. “If you ram that door, this whole place will come down on our heads.”

  “I can’t leave them.”

  The camp alarm sounded.

  “They found the dead guards,” Amber said, “We’re out of time. We have to go.”

  Cole pointed to the warehouse. “Not without them.”

  The truck’s engine revved. Gears meshed. Cole and Amber looked to see Alex sitting in the driver seat. He hit the gas. The truck lurched forward. Cole and Amber gave chase, grabbing hold of the tailgate, clambering into the back as the vehicle picked up speed.