“I think we can prep something.” The abrasive voice began to list off options.
“Good,” The simplicity of the idea was the most attractive part. This recon man sounded like someone they could use, Shadowman added: “Your father would be very proud of this idea.”
*
“Captain Hunter, it’s great to hear your voice.” Davidson’s baritone filled the phone. Maggie was holding the ancient device to her ear. Hell, there was even a cord attached. “Give me a report.”
“Yes sir,” Maggie’s voice began to deliver the news while she glanced over a page or two of notes. The trick to a good report was anticipating the next question. She had learned that long ago. “We engaged a large, mobile force of marauders and inflicted heavy casualties, forcing them to withdraw.”
“What was the size of the force?” Davidson queried. Maggie could sense there were others in the room, possibly Roberts among them.
“Between 75 and 100 troops and over twenty vehicles, sir,” Maggie circled the number on her paper with an old pen. “We caught them completely by surprise.”
“How many did you kill?” Davidson demanded.
“Between seventy five or eighty of them, sir,”
There was a pause at the other end of the phone someone whispered “Jesus Christ.”
“Then you practically wiped them out.” Davidson’s voice contained no joy. He was professional.
“Yes sir, we did.” Maggie matched his tone.
“Captain Hunter. It’s Tom Roberts.” She knew he would be lingering around. Davidson and he were almost inseparable. “Did you get any assistance from the militia in that area?”
“Well sir,” Maggie took a deep breath and tried to choose her words correctly. Hell, she just said it: “The militia you are referring to were the marauders that were attacking our convoys.”
“I’m ……sorry….?.”
“Yes sir, they have been turned.” Maggie needed to make her case and make it fast. “The people I faced were unquestionably professional soldiers.”
“Captain, do you have proof of this?” Davidson was the first to recover. “Did you take prisoners?”
“No sir, we could not take prisoners.” She decided to play the news tactfully. After all, you’re calling a bunch of people traitors. “The intel you gave was right on the money about this area, the place is crawling with hostiles.”
“So when they attacked…….” Davidson let his voice trail off so Maggie could continue.
“Sir, we engaged and killed them with all the firepower we had, destroying the vehicles they were in.” Maggie chose her words carefully. “When their vehicles crashed or caught fire, the hostiles were all over the survivors.”
There was a pause in the room, Maggie thought about speaking but then thought better to wait for a question. Each person on the other end of this thin line of communication was formulating a picture in their imaginations of the battle. She wondered why her description sounded like cold blooded slaughter.
Because maybe it was………
“I’m sorry, sir.” Maggie felt she was in retreat. “I had people and a convoy to protect. There was nothing we could do.”
“Very well,” Davidson spoke after a shocked pause, ending that chain of the conversation. “I need some evidence that our militia has turned, Captain.”
“Of course, sir,” Maggie was relieved to dive into the evidence. “The first tip was their weapons. They did not have shotguns, side-arms and hunting rifles. They were all using automatic weapons.”
“Just like a militia or armed force would……”
“Yes sir,” Maggie continued. Hoping the first point stuck. “We had a casualty, sir.”
“Yes, Captain.” It was a woman’s voice. “I am Madame Harris, The wife of the Prime Minister.”
“Forgive me, Ma’am.” Maggie said after a pause. Honesty was sometimes the best policy or at least a favorable fallback position. “I am not sure how to address you…..”
“Mrs. Harris or Jolene is fine.” Her accent was vivacious with a hint of style. “I am truly sorry for the loss of your comrade. What happened?”
“Thank you, Ma’am.” Maggie paused respectfully before continuing. “Sergeant Gyles was killed by a single shot while he was traveling on a moving vehicle.”
“Did you see the gunman who fired?” Someone asked. It was a man this time.
“No sir, that’s the thing.” Maggie pressed her point home. “It was very flat terrain with no opportunity for concealment. The shot came from quite a ways away.”
“I see…..” Madame Harris added, letting Maggie know who she was addressing.
“Sergeant Gyles wasn’t killed by a good ole’ boy with a hunting rifle and a lucky shot, Madame Harris,” Maggie glanced down at her notes for a second while concluding. “The only person capable of a shot like that is a professional soldier with a C14 Timber wolf.”
“A timber wolf…….?” Mrs. Harris asked for clarification.
“Canadian made sniper rifle, ma’am,” Maggie explained. “In Afghan, Al-Qaeda was terrified of the things and the people who used them. I can’t say I blame them.”
“Yes, of course….” Madame Harris concluded her part of the debriefing. “Thank you, Captain.”
“Yes, Mrs. Harris.” It was a verbal salute.
“Anything else?” Davidson wanted to keep this moving.
“Yes sir, they had a lot of vehicles and what seemed like unlimited fuel.” Maggie ticked off the last thing on her bullet list. “We also ran into an indigenous band while we were out there. They referred to the people we fought as The Soldiers.”
“This is all very convincing, Maggie.” Tom had that touch of affable for a second. “But how do we know for sure?”
“I give them an order.” Davidson spoke up. There was a pause and he continued. “I will ring up their CO. See what his troop strength is, if he gives me some story about losing people fighting hostiles. Then we have a match.”
“Yes sir.” Maggie whispered affirmative.
“One more thing, Maggie,” Tom spoke up again. “There were indigenous out there?”
“Yes sir,” Maggie felt a charge of panic. She would have to tell the truth. “We had an incident……”
“An incident?” Davidson was back, he was all business.
“We were under fire, sir.” Maggie felt herself panicking. “We had no idea they were there……”
“Captain, are you describing a friendly fire incident with civilian casualties?” It was hardly a question from Davidson. To Maggie it felt like an accusation.
“Yes sir, I am.” Maggie could not help but sigh, dejection was in her voice. “There was one civilian casualty, I take full responsibility.”
“I will require a full report on this, Captain.” His voice was stiff, disciplinary. Disappointed……?
“They’re just living out there?” Someone asked incredulously.
“Captain, you have been asked a question.” Davidson spoke up after a pause. That was the problem when things weren’t face to face, sometimes you missed things. ”Answer it.”
“Yes sir, of course.” Maggie collected her thoughts and proceeded. “Yes sir, they are possibly the remnants of one of the reservations north of the Trans-Canada highway.”
“Maybe we should move them…….”
“Sir,” Maggie interjected quickly. “If we try and move them, they would fight us.”
“But this is for their own god damned good….”
“”That’s what we always say,” It was Tom speaking to that room of voices now. “We have moved those people so many times and we always say it’s for their own good.”
“Indeed.” Madame Harris spoke the word icily. Maggie was no politician but some huge political support had just landed on Tom Roberts’ side.
Tom’s voice was louder now. He must have turned toward the phone. “I’m with Captain Hunter on this one.”
“As am I, General Davidson,” Madame Harris’ ton
e clearly signaled to the General to lighten up on Maggie. Forget the incident perhaps?
“Very well,” It was Davidson again, more thoughtful this time, “anything else?”
“Sir,” Maggie paused again. She knew this might not be popular. “I would like to make contact with them again.”
“Are you sure they would be interested in that?” Davidson sounded critical.
“No sir, I’m not.” Maggie replied after a beat. “But I think we should try.”
“Why?”
“Because out here, we need all the friends we can get.” Maggie knew that was the leverage in the argument she required.
“You think they will see us as friends or perhaps allies?” Madame Harris was back. Maggie could feel her presence in the room.
“No, ma’am, they don’t like us.” Maggie responded to the shadow of doubt with the light of logic. “But they hate the other guys even more.”
“….and you just kicked the other guys’ ass.” Davidson observed.
“Yes sir, it might get me in the front door.” Maggie was hopeful.
*
Shadowman regarded the golden colored liquid in the glass with two ice cubes that were slowly succumbing to the elements. It was strange, a war within a war, an attempted coup during an extinction event. He could sit up all night and try to justify it to his conscious. C’mon, he felt himself smile. Do you really have to do that?
Time after time, you have to suspend that kind of thinking. After all, if you didn’t, decisions would be so hard to come by in government. He took a sip and let the liquid moisten his lips and ease his troubled mind. Was it democratic? Of course not……….
But all government is democratic in one way or another………
No matter who you were, statesman or strongman, his eyes watched the ice cubes in the glass shrinking, dying. You have to convince them to follow you. Yes, you need their vote. That’s kind of like democracy, isn’t it? His mind followed along as the amber liquid began to trace a line down his throat. You need them to agree to be used by you. You need them to want to die for you. Even the greatest tyrant dangles by the slender thread of popularity. If the weight of discord becomes too strong you drop like a stone. Every leader holds on by the thinnest edge on the winds of shifting popularity.
He could hear their voices on the phone all day, they were nervous now. The blocking maneuver on the Trans-Canada highway had been crushed. Supplies were moving freely again. It looked like a full retreat. They were second guessing his decisions, suggesting safer, more conservative paths to power.
You’re losing your grip. The thread was growing thinner.
Democracy, that’s all it is, really. Shadowman had to accept the latest role of the dice. A man he had never met will kill a woman he had only heard of. Once he reported her demise, they would all fall back into line. His form of democracy would be restored.
Shadowman had to admit, the last few weeks had been eye opening. He had no idea how tenuous the hold on power was even in the best of times. All government is democratic in one way or another. You need their support, at least for a little while longer. He looked down into his glass, the ice was gone. It had run out of time.
*
The coffee was better here, Maggie had to admit. She had been able to find a bagel with raisins. At least I hope those are raisins, she took another bite and leaned forward toward the computer screen. It felt strange for a moment to be online again. The office woman had given her a password and she was good to go. After a sip of coffee she let her fingers do some walking on the keyboard.
Canada sixties scoop, she typed and then leaned back as the information gathered itself slowly. Twenty minutes later Maggie had clicked on her third source.
“I’ll be god damned,” she whispered.
*
“I bet I can open my mouth wider than you.” Trenton was being silly and he knew it. His mouth dropped open and he arched his neck “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.”
The small group of curious children gathered around him giggled at the game. The little boy he was examining could not have been more than 7. He was made of growing muscle and bone that seemed healthy in all respects. It really was a bit astonishing. He was missing a couple of teeth but that was the age for that sort of thing. For extra effect he stuck out his tongue while the medic peered down his throat. “AHHHHHHHHHHH.”
“You’re wonderful with children.” A voice spoke shyly. He turned to see Phaedra, she was watching him from the shadows. Her arms were crossed casually as she stepped forward slowly.
“Just letting my inner kid out to play,” Trenton gave her a welcoming smile, he waved her forward casually. “I could use some help………” His face screwed up comically as he turned to the children,
“……with these naughty ones……” The desired effect of giggles followed. He was going over big with his pint sized audience.
“You’ve certainly won them over.” Her voice was a far cry from the first time they had met. It was softer now, more inviting.
“Yeah,” he whispered in memory. Trenton had to face her again. “I hope that doesn’t happen again.”
“It wasn’t you, it was the uniform.” Phaedra was closer now, kneeling beside him. “They are terrified of soldiers, we tell them to run away if they see them.”
“It’s probably wise,” Trenton had a sad smile on his face.
“Why did you become……one of them?” Phaedra danced around the word “soldier” with the children around.
“There was no money but I wanted to be a doctor.” Trenton leaned against a post while small faces watched him carefully. “If I served a few tours, they would pay my education.”
“Then all this happened.” Phaedra waved a nonchalant hand in the air. It was as casual an association to the end of things he had ever seen.
“Yeah,” his sad smile felt strange now. He tried to brighten the moment. “But I am a medic now, a step closer to being a doctor.”
“So what are you going to do after you become a doctor?” The wry Phaedra returned, the mouth became crooked with the challenge. “Are you gonna work on rich women in a big city hospital?”
“All the big cities are gone now.” Trenton didn’t take her bait. He replied quietly, “The big hospitals in them, too.”
“All gone….” Trenton whispered after a moment.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Phaedra spoke up after a minute of silence. She tried to fill in the shock of the news about the cities with the closest thing she could come to an apology.
Before he could take in the moment, an illuminated phantom played across the walls of the barn. Brilliant white light followed a clear pattern. It crossed paths with a few of the inhabitants, making them blink for a startled second. There were dozens of different responses, the children shrank away. Trenton stood up for a better view. Jordan picked up an axe and headed toward the door, headlights usually meant trouble.
*
As soon as Maggie was out of the cab, it started. That crawly feeling, that reminder you were in the open and outside. They could come from anywhere, that’s what they do best. They surprise you, overwhelm you and devour you. She needed to be unarmed if this was even going to have half a chance of success. The headlights of the tractor trailer created weird shadows among the trees. Limbs became arms, darkened shades became figures. The worst part was the tricks played by the corners of her eyes. Her peripheral vision always seemed to pick up movement the very second she was about to look away. You won’t even be able to hear them, her breath became uneven. The tractor trailer engine’s idling added another layer of helplessness to the situation.
“What do you want?” Jordan’s voice made Maggie turn around suddenly. She saw three outlines. Jordan was the closest. Two others had a respectful distance. They looked like blackened cutouts against an inky tapestry. The reflection of the headlights created an odd halo effect.
“You startled me,” Maggie told the truth.
“You didn’t answer my
question.” Jordan watched his feet as he stepped forward, careful not to lose his footing in the darkness. He had that hard to read mask on again. “What do you want?”
“I brought you some things.” Maggie’s voice was subdued as she nodded to the tractor trailer, after a second he looked at it as well.
“Is this an apology?” He asked, his face tilting slightly in question.
“No.” Maggie’s voice betrayed her impatience, for a moment she considered a more forceful reply. What was the use? She finally sighed and began give up on everything. “It’s just……look, just take it, okay?”
“Jordan, are you being rude to our guests?” A new voice played into the drama, it was light hearted in comparison to Jordan’s near monotone. A large man stepped forward. He had a shock of white and black hair that seemed like a bizarre form of camouflage. He had broad shoulders and a broad smile on his lips as he stepped past Jordan toward Maggie.
“My name is Frank,” he extended his hand and Maggie shook it. “I am one of the elders here.”
“Captain Maggie Hunter, sir.” She decided to be forthright, beating Jordan to the punch. “I am the officer who is responsible for the death of one of your people yesterday.”
“Yes,” Frank nodded sadly. His voice was more serious now. The smile had become pensive as he motioned one of the background shadows forward. “We can talk about it inside, I’m sure you know the Doctor.”
“Ma’am,” Trenton stepped forward with something that looked like a blanket under his arm.
“Mr. Trenton,” Maggie was surprised to see him wearing an old denim shirt and jeans a size or two larger than normal. A string of white rope around his waist kept everything in place. “I didn’t recognize you out of uniform.”
“That’s my bad, I asked him to change out of it,” Frank was now guiding them towards the friendly yellowish glow of the barn. “The children were very afraid of his uniform.”
“I see,” Maggie realized her comment was being taken as disciplinary, military life and civilian attitude had just collided. “It looks good on you, Mr. Trenton.”
5 Years After (Book 2.5): Smoke & Mirrors Page 28
