by Lizzy Ford
Chapter Two
Two weeks later
MAJOR BRADY HANSON HELD out a hand to the man dressed in the PMF’s gray uniform beside him. His best friend, Dan, tossed him a micro. Brady glanced at it, sweating despite the cool antechamber of their secret communications point. Each trip up the side of the mountain grew harder as chaos erupted along the East Coast and drove refugees through Brady’s area of operation.
Brady’s arm of the militia, the Appalachia Branch, stretched from northern Georgia up through Virginia and was one of the largest in the PMF, the only thing good to come of the East-West Civil War. The PMF—Poor Man’s Front—had started as a protest during the war against the elite that ultimately won and divided the American society between those who lived comfortably—and everyone else.
But his branch of the militia wasn’t equipped to help refugees. He could only steer them towards the Underground Railroad, the secretive systems of bunkers and tunnels running beneath major cities that were developed by the PMF during the ten-year war. Meanwhile, his people acted as the eyes on the ground to the regular military, most of which was exiled overseas after the war to prevent the divided political elite from seizing control of it again.
Brady entered the code from his micro onto the keypad beside the metal door in front of him. Dwindling supplies made surviving the day enough of a challenge without scaling a mountain at night. The door opened, and they entered the secret communications site, one of two in the territory he commanded.
Tim, his government contact and the highest-ranking individual in the PMF, was already on screen when Brady entered the comms center. As an influential Undersecretary in the fed command and control structure, Tim had access to all kinds of information that helped Brady’s chances of survival.
“You received my latest transmission of the cities that are beyond repair?” Tim asked.
“Last night. They’ve been infrequent,” Brady replied. “The comms have gone up and down, depending on how close we are to the nuked areas.”
“I didn’t expect the critical infrastructure to disintegrate so fast. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. The eastern part of the country has always had a rather lackadaisical approach to maintenance,” Tim said.
“As opposed to you Westerners, where life is perfect.”
“Someday, you’ll have to come visit,” Tim said with a hint of his famous smile. “It’s difficult for me to transmit undetected with the comms being down everywhere back east. I’m sorry to keep pulling you here when you have work to do elsewhere.”
“No worries, Tim. You know I always support you. And I appreciate the info you’re sending us,” Brady said. “There’s a lot of shit going on over here. We wouldn’t know the half of it without your intel.”
“There’s a lot more going on than we expected. I’ll do what I can to get you more frequent updates, but I can’t guarantee anything. You try asking Angel?”
“Doubt some poor girl would know anything,” Brady replied. “Should she?”
“She might have some insight. She’s uniquely positioned. Have you talked to her recently?”
“Yes,” Brady said. “She’s fine.”
“Good.” Tim seemed genuinely pleased.
Brady wondered, not for the first time, what Tim’s relationship was to the girl. The politician hadn’t ordered any of his companions or his thirteen sons protected, and she was important enough that Tim asked about her every time they spoke. Whatever their connection, it was none of his business. He was charged with protecting her. And apparently, everyone else this side of the Mississippi as well.
“Your base camp isn’t on the feds’ radar yet,” Tim said. “I think they’re too busy with everything else right now. Even so, you want to be wary of the spread of radiation in the aquifers.”
“I’m not ten, Tim,” Brady said with a small smile. “We carry our own water and testing equipment.”
“Your family and mine would kill me if I let anything happen to you,” Tim said, returning the smile.
“We’ve been balancing both our demanding masters the past few weeks,” Brady said, referring to his PMF militia duties and his official regular military duties. “The regular army’s got us running around between fed strongholds to assess damage to fed facilities and PMF HQ wants us helping refugees. It’s a mess, Tim.”
“How bad is it?”
“Irreparable,” Dan supplied. “We’re surviving because of our position with the PMF and no other reason. No other regular army unit has a chance out here. We lost comms with the few who came from Ft. Bragg. Something weird is going on.”
Tim frowned. “Define weird.”
“Check your micro,” Brady said. He looked down and sent images to Tim.
Tim looked down. “What the hell?” he muttered.
“Something going on you want to tell us about? Like part two of the East-West War? These men aren’t wearing Western uniforms for their health.”
“The government has been divided since the war, but it didn’t seem possible that this could happen.”
“The good thing is recruitment is up,” Brady said.
“Just be leery of who you trust.” The silver-haired man offered a distracted smile. “Seems like so much death should be avoidable in this day and age. All my charm and diplomacy is hitting a brick wall.”
“War isn’t pretty,” Brady agreed. “We’ll keep sending refugees west.”
“The feds sealed off the Mississippi using the equipment left over from the war fifty years ago. You’d think the plan was to help the survivors, but I’m in a constant battle with others who want to wipe out everything east of the Mississippi and just start over. I figured it was all talk. Looks like some of them might be serious.” Tim looked up from the images on his micro.
“Jesus,” Dan breathed. “Please warn us if that happens.”
“If I find out first, I will.” Tim’s frustration was plain on his face.
Brady shifted uneasily. He’d never seen the politician up against something he couldn’t defeat. Tim looked worn. His friend was keeping secrets.
“I may need you to act quickly in the near future to interfere,” Tim said. “And, I might need a few assassinations called in to keep things from blowing up on your side of the river.”
“You know I’ll do anything you ask,” Brady said. “Just contact me when you need me.”
“Will do. I’m off to another meeting.”
“Take care.”
“You, too.”
Tim’s face disappeared from the screen. Brady glanced at his best friend, who shook his head.
“I can’t see how this could get much worse,” Dan said.
“I’m sure there’s a way,” Brady said.
“At least you got Angel to talk to. It’s about time for your daily chat, isn’t it?”
Brady eyed his friend, who tried hard not to smile. What had started out as a pain-in-the-ass babysitting favor to Tim had turned gradually into something he looked forward to. He checked in daily with the soft-spoken woman he’d nicknamed Angel. He’d known Tim his whole life and knew all of Tim’s consorts and children by name, if not by sight.
Tim had never mentioned Angel to him before asking him to take care of her.
“I’ll contact the helo,” Dan said with a wink and left.
Brady opened his channel. “Checking in.”
“Good evening to you, too,” Angel replied after a pause.
“You sound beat.”
“I am. I started learning to shoot a laser gun today,” she said. “I’m not very good.”
“All it takes is practice. The way things are going, you need to learn to shoot,” he said.
“You really think so?”
Brady frowned. Whoever Angel was, she was sheltered. He’d surmised she was somewhere this side of the Mississippi, but he couldn’t understand how she didn’t know how bad it was.
“Maybe.” He softened his words. “It’s a good skill to have.”
> “Did anyone try to blow you up today?”
He chuckled. “Not yet.”
“That’s good.”
“You’d miss talking to me?”
“Yes,” she said simply.
“You’re the only one.”
“No companion or wife anywhere?”
“They’d be in a million pieces right now if so. Don’t know if you noticed, but it’s a warzone.”
“I am so sorry,” she said, sounding distraught. “I didn’t even think to ask if you lost anyone.”
“I didn’t. It was my attempt at humor,” he explained, not unaffected by her concern. It had been years since he’d heard a woman’s compassion. “Did you lose anyone?”
“No. Well, yes. Maybe.”
Brady waited, unusually interested in her answer. He expected her to name off Tim and answer his unasked question about the relationship between the two of them.
“My dog, Jack. I left him with my neighbor and haven’t been able to reach her.”
“Your dog,” he said. “Dogs are good at surviving on their own. No one else?”
“No. You sound surprised.”
“Just curious.” He heard the beat of a helo approaching. “I’ll keep an eye out for any lost dogs.” As he spoke, he strode from the commo room to the ledge outside. He trotted up a set of shallow stairs chiseled into the mountain to the helipad where Dan waited. “I gotta go, Angel. I’ll contact you later.”
“Good luck.”
“Get some sleep. Guardian out.”
He trotted to join Dan as the helo lowered from the sky. His thoughts were on Angel. Some evenings, he talked with her until she lost the edge of worry in her voice. Other evenings were like this one, where he checked in and went about his business. In both cases, he found himself looking forward to hearing her voice—and making sure she was still alive. He wasn’t sure how he’d break the news to Tim if something happened to her.
The helo hovered near the edge of the plateau. A ladder lowered, and Brady vaulted onto it, followed by Dan. They sat and pulled out laser guns, arming them and waiting as the helo took them down the mountain again to their awaiting teams.
Brady’s focus returned to his mission. They’d identified a small town where the soldiers in Western uniforms had holed themselves. He had no idea who they were, except that sightings of them became regular soon after the nuke attacks on the East Coast.
