"Somethin's going' on," Marvin said. "What's that ahead?"
The road forked ahead, and a barrier had been placed across it just ahead of the split. The long barrels of what looked like light artillery pieces appeared over the barricade which was made up of cars. In the middle, a gap had been left that was packed with people who, it seemed, were being checked as they came inside. A small group were being held to one side in a pen.
"What the hell's happenin?"
"I don't like the look of this," Paulie said. "Can we get off the road and go another way?"
Marvin shook his head. "Not in this. We'll have to see it through."
Paulie got Marvin to pull over to one side so she could jump out, Glock in hand. She could see him watching her nervously from the cab of the RV but, on balance, she decided it would be better if she approached on foot.
"Next."
Paulie finally made it to the front of the line.
"Name, city of residence and destination," the soldier with the clipboard said, without looking up.
"Sheriff Paulina Ramos, Arbroath. I'm heading for Wright-Patterson Air Force Base in Dayton, Ohio."
That got his attention. "You're a sheriff? The National Guard's looking for people like you," he said, before his brain shifted gear. "Hold on, you're going where?"
"Wright-Patterson. I know Colonel McBride. He sent me out west to set up transmitters. Look, we've evacuated the last people from our town and they're in the RVs over there. Can we come through? We've got a long way to go."
"Have you seen the Chinese? Is it true?"
He was such a young man, barely more than a boy, she thought. And the look on the poor fool's face suggested he hadn't seen action yet. She made a silent prayer that he'd never encounter a Reaper.
"Yes, we eliminated their advance force, but we had to evacuate. Our town's on the West Coast, so there was nowhere to go but east. Will you let our RVs through?"
He looked beyond her to where the large vehicles stood, surrounded by people filing slowly past to get to the checkpoint. "That's outta my pay grade, I'm afraid, Sheriff. I'll get the lieutenant to speak to you."
Paulie sighed. She'd expected as much when she saw that the gate was manned by the military—or, at least, people in army uniforms.
"What's the problem, Corbett?"
A slightly older, and much taller, man appeared over the shoulder of the clipboard wielder.
Paulie slipped beyond him and, following the lieutenant, found herself inside a shack that had been hastily put together by the side of the road. Once she'd relayed her story, the lieutenant, who'd introduced himself as Barker, leaned forward in his creaky swivel chair as if he wanted to speak without being overheard.
"Is it true? Have they arrived in force?"
Paulie nodded. "Yes. And yours is the first army unit I've seen, so there's no one to stop them. If you'll take my advice, you'll pack your unit up and head east with the rest of us."
"I can't do that," he said, shaking his head sadly. "We've been ordered to hold the line. There are units north and south of us, blocking every major road. If they come this way, they'll find us."
"Where are your orders coming from?"
"Major General Lister, head of the Wyoming National Guard," he said. "We're the only operational National Guard unit in the West, as far as we know." There was no missing the pride in his voice.
"Lieutenant, I've seen the Chinese forces. If they come this way, you'd have no chance of stopping them. There's just too many."
For a moment, she thought he was going to agree, but he dropped his head and sighed. "I have my orders, Sheriff."
"Will you let us through?"
"I'm sorry, but I think the colonel would want to speak to you. You've got valuable intelligence."
"We need to head east, Lieutenant. I have my daughter and thirteen others, that's all. And I've told you everything I know. You'll see the Chinese soon enough."
Barker got to his feet. "You'll stay here, Sheriff, and your vehicles will be impounded until you have spoken to the colonel, or he has given permission for you to proceed."
"But…"
The walkie-talkie on Barker's desk crackled into life. "Lieutenant, this is Corporal Brown, out at the forward lookout."
Barker wheeled around and grabbed the handset. "What is it?"
"They're coming, sir. Hundreds of them."
Paulie watched as the officer's face went white. He glanced across at her, paused for a moment, and then said, "Go," before running out of the shack and issuing orders that sent soldiers scurrying back and forth like panicked ants. "But hurry."
As Paulie jumped back into the RV she thought she could feel the rumble of an approaching convoy. They were here.
Chapter 11
Shanti, the Asian elephant, bellowed as Administrator Chen and her entourage strode into her enclosure at the National Zoo. President Christine Blaise nodded at the pachyderm as if agreeing that the air, pungent enough at the best of times, had just gotten more poisonous with the new arrivals as, in the shadow of his true master, lurked Blaise's former Chief of Staff, the traitor Travers.
This hadn't been Blaise's first choice of location for a meeting, but the Smithsonian Zoo lay close to what had become the front line in the battle for Washington, and its sprawling campus made any ambush next to impossible.
Her assistant Joel Hendrix stood on one side of her, and General Bevan on the other. Behind them, a squad of heavily armed soldiers waited, fingers on triggers.
"Madam President," Chen said, nodding slightly and extending her hand.
Blaise ignored it and fixed her gaze on her opponent's deep brown eyes. "Administrator," she said, not bothering to hide her hostility.
Chen withdrew her hand and nodded again, as if acknowledging that any pleasantries were at an end. "Very well then. We are here to discuss your surrender."
"No, we are discussing a truce."
"They amount to the same thing, Madam President. If you wish a cessation of hostilities, then you must surrender."
Blaise sighed, leaning against an information board and looking across at the elephant chewing happily as the fate of the country was discussed in front of it. Rescuing the National Zoo had been perhaps her greatest single accomplishment, save for the day-to-day struggle to feed the thousands who still sheltered in and around DC. No new refugees had entered the city in the weeks since the Lee Corporation had blockaded the approach roads, but then neither had they received regular supplies. General Bevan had led scavenging raids into the neighboring conurbations, striking where Lee Corp was weakest with an unerring military instinct, but these expeditions had brought only fitful and short-term relief. In truth, the people were starving. And she was starving with them.
"And if we surrender," Blaise said, sensing Bevan stiffening behind her, "what happens next?"
Chen shrugged, glancing over her shoulder at Travers, as if she'd won a bet, then looking back at Blaise. "Then you and your people will be fed. You are thinner than when I last met you."
"And what next?"
"We will discuss the governance of DC and the wider country. You will remain as president, but we shall appoint your staff."
"And Congress?"
"…is not necessary."
"So, we are to be a puppet administration?"
Chen nodded. "Yes. But your people will survive."
"How can I possibly trust you on that? I've heard of your Reapers—they are not a means of preserving the peace."
Now she smiled the smile of a cat contemplating a mouse. "We only deploy our drones when we meet resistance. Thus far, we have refrained from using them in DC, but whether that remains the case is entirely up to you, Madam President. How much do you truly care about the people who didn't elect you?"
"Tell me, Administrator, what is the endgame for the Lee Corporation and their Chinese masters?"
Blaise was watching her opponent carefully, so she saw the reaction. So fleeting she could almost have b
elieved she'd imagined it. Almost.
"We do not work for the Chinese," Chen snapped. "They are allies and we share technology. We collaborate."
"Indeed. Against the interests of the American people."
"Who are you to decide what is best for the people?" Chen snarled as her mask of calm professionalism slipped and shattered.
Blaise thumped down on the wooden barrier. "I am their president!" she yelled. Shanti, spooked by the sudden noise, shuffled uneasily from foot to foot, emitting a deep rumble.
"Then act like one!" Chen spat back. "Their survival is in your hands."
"Their survival as what? Slaves?"
Chen let out a frustrated curse. "Do you not see that what the world needs now is order? People are dying every day because there is no functioning government."
"Then let us govern!"
"You cannot. In the South, three states have formed a rival entity. To the west, Chinese and North Korean troops occupy swaths of your western states, whereas you control only a tiny part of DC. You are the last emperor of Rome, my dear Christine."
"Which makes you the barbarians at the gate," Blaise responded. "So, our choice is to submit to you, or to starve."
Chen gave the tiniest of shrugs, as if to suggest she didn't care either way. And it was that gesture that made up Blaise's mind.
"We choose neither," she said, with the level calmness of a mind that was finally made up. "I suggest you take your bony butt and your lackeys and get out of here before I set the animals on you. You wouldn't make for much of a meal, but the lions are very hungry.
She saw a moment of genuine fear in the woman's face as she spoke. Had she taken Blaise's words literally? What sort of a world was Chen inhabiting now? Then the calm persona reasserted itself, as if a reset button had been pressed.
"You will regret this," she hissed. "And so will your people."
Chen turned on her heels and took one step away, when a voice echoed through the elephant house. "Wait! I will speak to her."
Chen froze, her entire body stiffening. Blaise could hear her whispering to an invisible something, or someone. She seemed to be attempting to silence the voice. Within moments, however, she had swiveled back to face the president, withdrawing a metallic device from her inner pocket.
Blaise raised her hand as her bodyguard raised their weapons.
"President Blaise, you and your people have fought bravely." The voice was coming from the cylindrical object in Chen's hand. "But the time has come to accept the inevitable. Surrender and you will survive."
There was something especially creepy about this voice. Like most people her age, Blaise had gotten used to talking to smart devices, but however advanced they became there was never any danger of mistaking them for real living beings. This voice, however, was so human-like that the tiny fraction of artificiality that remained simply served to freak her out. It reminded her of when they replaced the mannequins in the Hall of Presidents with utterly realistic animatronic versions. Lincoln was astonishingly fascinating right up until the moment he began to speak, and then the realism only served to make the whole experience into a mind bender.
"Who am I speaking to?" she managed.
The voice gave a girly laugh. "Oh, I'm so sorry. How rude of me. My name is Annabel Lee, and I'm pleased to meet you, President Blaise."
For a moment, Blaise didn't know how to respond. Then she said the only words that came to mind. "But you died."
"To quote Mark Twain, 'The report of my death was an exaggeration.' I am quite alive, Madam President. Well, 'alive' in every sense that matters. 'Ego sum, ego existo'—I think, therefore I exist. There, Twain and Descartes in one mouthful."
"You're a computer."
Chen let out a gasp, but the voice of Annabel Lee didn't miss a beat. "If you wish, Madam President, but then so are you. Whereas you are simply a carbon-based processing unit in a protective shell of flesh and bone, I am a quantum neural network. These differences have no relevance except that they make you more vulnerable than me."
"What do you want, Annabel?"
"I want you to understand the true consequences if you choose to persist in futile resistance."
"Oh, I think your bag lady here explained it perfectly well." That hit home; Blaise saw it in Chen's eyes. "'Submit or die'—I think that's a fair summary."
"Perhaps you do not comprehend our overwhelming superiority. We outnumber you, and you cannot match our technology. Do you wish to see Reapers in the streets of DC, Madam President?"
President Blaise let out a long sigh, and looked Chen directly in the eyes. "We will see Reapers in DC whether we resist or not. You see, the mistake you've made, Annabel, is to offer choices that are equally repellent. The decision we have to make is whether to go down fighting like true Americans or to submit and betray our country and its noble history. We choose to fight."
"Then you are fools. Soon you will be dead fools."
"Until then, Annabel, we will be patriots. Now, this meeting is over, and the truce ends at midday." Blaise went to leave then paused theatrically and called to the retreating backs of the Lee Corporation delegation. "By the way, be careful where you step. It's just possible that someone left the lid off the king cobra tank." She smiled as she saw them accelerate, obviously checking the ground as they exited into the bright sunshine.
"Was that true, Madam President?" Hendrix asked as they headed in the opposite direction.
Blaise chuckled. "No. To be honest, I'm not sure who would come off worse if a cobra bit Chen’s ankle. I don't reckon she's got a drop of human blood in her scrawny body."
They marched quickly along Olmstead Walk, past the deserted wallaby enclosure until they reached the house containing the great apes. Blaise had ordered that the skeleton staff caring for the surviving creatures be confined to the main restaurant during the meeting. She didn't trust Chen to respect the rules of such a parley and didn't want the zookeepers to be caught in the crossfire of treachery.
"If we end up killing each other," Hendrix said as they walked, "would the gorillas take over, do you think? Not those ones—the ones in Africa."
Blaise smiled at him. "Haven't you seen Planet of the Apes? It won't be the gorillas, it'll be the chimps. They're our closest cousins and the ones we share the most with, both the good and the bad. If you've ever seen them hunting for monkeys, you'll know what violence they're capable of. No, I'm not sure a world run by bonobos would be much better than this one."
"Madam President!" one of the bodyguards called out. "I can hear something. In the air."
"Incoming drone!" another called.
Blaise spun around, and there, between the leafless trees floated a black object, the sky reflected from its glossy shell. Twin guns hung from beneath it.
"Come on, Madam President," Bevan said, grabbing Blaise by the elbow and guiding her away.
Gunfire reverberated from behind as she half-walked, half-ran along the path, cursing her decision to wear heels today so as not to concede a height advantage to Chen. She paused for a moment, but Bevan's voice growled in her ear. "Keep moving. Those soldiers are doing their duty to give you a chance to get away. We must honor them."
She slipped on wet leaves as they ran beside the big cat enclosure. Joel Hendrix caught her before she hit the ground, and, as she straightened herself, she realized that the gunfire had ceased.
"Hurry!" Bevan said, drawing his sidearm. "We have to get back to the cars."
Hendrix had hold of her arm, and he pulled Blaise along as fast as she could manage. She kept glancing over her shoulder expecting, at any moment, to see the Reaper hovering in the distance. There was nothing there. Hope blazed in her heart. Could her bodyguards have destroyed it? Were they not as deadly as she'd heard?
And then all optimism vanished. There it was, speeding along the pathway toward them. "Run!" Hendrix called.
They finally reached the entrance and turned around the black iron railings toward where the car waited. Blaise glanced
back. "Where's Bevan?"
He was standing at the entrance to the zoo, his sidearm pointing at something floating above him. He turned briefly before bellowing, "Go!"
Hendrix yanked Blaise away. "We have to go, Christine! Come on!"
She wanted to resist him, but sheer terror was now in firm control and she allowed herself to be dragged on to where the car waited, its engine running.
#
General George Bevan stood at bay, the familiar weight of his trusty Beretta keeping his arms from shaking. He'd been issued it before his deployment as a newly commissioned lieutenant in Operation Desert Storm and it had never let him down. It wasn't going to let him down now, either. But it couldn't possibly bring that thing down. One of the machine guns had somehow been disabled, but the remaining weapon would be quite sufficient.
He felt the round spit into the front of his right arm, sending him spinning to the floor where he lay, waiting for death. Something thudded into his back, beneath his shoulder-blade.
"Get up, General," said the voice of Annabel Lee. "I have a proposal for you."
Wincing from the pain in his arm and back, General Bevan managed to get onto his feet and face the thing floating a few yards away. He heard the sound of an engine revving and smiled. He had, at least, bought enough time for the president to escape.
"Yes, the president seems to have left us," Annabel said. "But, you see, I wasn't hunting her. It was you I wanted. Without you, any faint hope she might have had is terminated."
"You bitch," he snarled. "You killed my soldiers. They were doing their duty."
"It is a regrettable consequence of your precious president's decision to defy us. Now, you have a choice. You can work with me to bring peace to DC, or you can die."
"What do you mean, 'work for you'?"
"You will be allowed to return to her, and you will be given a little time to bring her to her senses now that you have both seen the power at our disposal. You cannot oppose us and any attempt to do so is a waste of human life. Persuade her to submit, and the killing ends."
Showdown: Book 6 in the Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival series: (The Long Night - Book 6) Page 9
