Later it would be discovered that it really wasn’t as simple as punching a hole in the mountain to let air in. First the mainframe computer had to run a series of protocols that were lengthy and again designed more for radiation detection than fire suppression, before anyone could open the doors. And then there was the repair work to the water lines, which wouldn’t have done anything but make a soggy mess of Level 53 had it worked. Still, people thought it was suspicious that the levels housing the poorest of the displaced population would be the ones to catch fire during repair work to the water lines. In response to increasing dissention from the population, Deputy Director Locodo announced that the threat level to Potus had been increased too.
“Is Potus planning to make a special announcement?” Shane asked their Sage as he readied to leave for a well-deserved day off.
“There’s no plan in the works right now, why?” He asked, putting on a nondescript gray hoodie and Velcro strapped shoes.
Shane shrugged, melancholy over the news. “I just figured he’d want to address his people. Everyone knows why the riot broke out… I mean, life’s shit right now for everyone. The people would probably take some comfort in hearing from their leader.”
McGowen scoffed. “Don’t let him hear you say that out loud. I was just in the Nest Egg, Potus is… not in the spending time with others kind of mood just now. I’m sure he’ll cool off after he’s had some sleep, but right now…” Their Sage looked to the left and the right of the lockers to make sure no one was looking. “The last thing we want is that man in front of millions of people, explaining why thousands more of an already precious few are dead. You can only blame so much on this place’s Cold War tech. Eventually, heads are gonna roll for this, but I’ll bet you anything Potus’s ain’t one ‘em.”
“Promote me to Special Agent.” Shane said quickly.
“What?”
“Congress will put in an inquiry, and we’ll be protecting Potus through the first impeachment trial in more than two decades. If I win the bet, you promote me.”
McGowen stifled a laugh. “Time and grade, Boot. Time and grade.” He said with a smile, heading back to his quarters with the other senior agents.
“Fuckin’ Marines, right?” Daniel sneered. Always a competition between the Army and Marines it was.
“I was in college.” Shane said with some sarcasm.
“Hippy.” Daniel jokingly accused. On their way back to their room, Shane split off and went to see if breakfast was still being served. Now alone in his room, Daniel flopped down on their lumpy couch. His eyelids became immediately heavy, but whist succumbing to exhaustion he saw Kelly had left her uniform cover under the coffee table. He grabbed it and was going to put it on the table when he realized it was quite fragrant. Knowing it was just a little creepy, Daniel put the hat up to his nose and breathed in. He fell asleep dreaming that before too long he wouldn’t have to sleep alone ever again.
Chapter 18
Not that the President ever went anywhere anymore, or that there was any compelling reason for him to leave his mountain bunker these days, but just before Christmas 2016 the Air Force delivered the bad news. Sorties flown against the undead had been almost completely useless and a horrifying waste of fuel resources. What combat aircraft and men to fly them left had suffered additionally heavy losses fighting a stalemate war against the splinter state of Texas, who wasn’t suffering a fuel shortage. The rapidly aging President of the United States was set to make his first appearance in almost three months, some said in an attempt to prevent another looming resource riot, but for anyone who spent time with him it was more to do with an emotional breaking point over the amount of unrest in the nation, or maybe just severe cabin fever. Living inside the mountain, rather than in the fields surrounding it, was supposed to be a status symbol and no small honor to be housed in the same place as the President. After almost two years of being locked inside, people were wanting to move out of the catacombs and into the daylight whether it was one of the coldest winters on record or not. It seemed people would rather take their chances with the ice than with a government that might let them burn if they become a problem. Nine different FEMA executives had been fired from their positions in Cheyenne Mountain over the water repair scandal. Naturally, no politicians had to answer for their authorization of the projects.
Kelly was one of the people who wanted out of the mountain, and she fully had Annette’s support in removing Daniel from the great rock coffin too. He resisted, refusing to be outside when his duty called for him to be wherever the President was. It wasn’t until after Potus delivered the infamous New Resolve for a New Year speech, that anyone had any real hope that life might change from the dreary American version of Fortress North Korea. The first thing their dear leader had promised was an immediate recolonization effort, which guaranteed legal amnesty for “harvesting” resources and claiming new properties if the original occupants were deceased. Even if everyone was excited to see an end to the satirically named Modern Caveman Era, many people felt the proposed laws being bullied through the House of Representatives (which now excluded states who’s estimated population was too low to represent, or who’s government was in open rebellion) would undermine personal property rights and maybe even the 4th Amendment itself.
Daniel was one of those people, but that was only because he was an insider now. He knew of several key laws coming down the pipeline just because he was either in the room or nearby when members of the President’s Cabinet and their Lobbyists informed the lanky puppet of what he would be promoting this week or that. The two main issues that were bothering Daniel were the Recolonization Act, and the Modern Amendments Act. One effectively stripped living owners of desired properties should they not meet the arbitrary rules of an unreasonable proof of ownership, and a legitimate reason for abandoning said properties checklist. The other was a complete circumventing of the Bill of Rights literally to suit the needs of whoever the sitting president was. This meant no more guns, no more speaking out against Public Policy, no more demanding of warrants for searches and seizures, and no right whatsoever to legal representation if you were even suspected of being a Texas sympathizer. People who had living family in Texas were the first to be interrogated by the NSA and elements of the CIA, after that it was on to anyone who had a southern accent. Rumors of even more rampant stupidity as people clamored for government cheese, abounded, and more and more often Daniel felt a real sense of racial tension in almost every aspect of his daily life he’d never known before.
By the turn of the last century racial division had been almost solely driven by quazi-anarchistis and riot inciting pseudo-preachers. But despite the antagonist’s best efforts most people in America were onboard with true equality under the law. Daniel had never had to face cliques of people with different skin colors who were supposedly on his side, his friend Hugh was so black he didn’t need face camouflage at night, yet somehow Daniel and other pale skin folks were feeling the stares of people who were buying into reverse racial stereotypes lock stock and barrel. It didn’t help that Potus wouldn’t address the issue. Time and time again, Daniel and other Caucasian Secret Servicemen had to be there and listen silently as “Civil Rights Leaders” and special interest group lobbyists spelled out a new America, born almost entirely on blaming the White Man for centuries of… whatever. It wasn’t true. No one race of people are evil, unless you count the Human Race as a whole, or separated politicians into their own subspecies. To be regularly addressed as Honky was an adjustment, but they’d all seen the last Caucasian agent file an E.O. complaint and be fired just as quickly.
Slowly but surely, anyone who wasn’t some varying form of a “minority,” black, latino, gay, gender-unsure, started pulling only the shit assignments. Guard this gate, put this (empty) section of the catacombs under surveillance, guard this person who barely interacts with Potus or Secretary of Whatevers. Promotions froze, if you were a white male, but yet speaking out would only make things worse
for you. Possibly Daniel’s connections kept him from being fired too, but he wasn’t anyone’s go-to guy anymore, unless the trash was overflowing or someone wanted their ass appropriately kissed.
Moving out of the Mountain and back to his mother’s house with Kelly, they got the furnished basement level, was the right decision. Coming home to the most perfect wife in the world was all that kept Daniel sane. That, and his mother was always very attentive of what he had to say about the inner workings of the government. He was voluntarily, at this point, her spy in many respects. She too was alarmed by the bigoted actions of the administration, but more or less it was just a tidal wave they chose to ride. The longer Daniel could be next to the earth-shakers of their day, the better prepared the next Major General in the Air Force would be when she was called upon to do… well, something. An air force with no fuel wasn’t much of an air force, just ask the Luftwaffe.
Six Months Later
“Agent Sawyer.”
Daniel looked up from his book. This time he was reading the original version of The Sum of All Fears. “What can I do for you?” He asked the like-dressed agent who’d entered his desolate posting on the thirtieth floor down. Only the men and women of the USSS and some of the original White House staff were allowed on levels 30 through 35, which were considered the most likely furnished levels to withstand a 50 kiloton nuclear blast. Levels below this were mostly just vast caverns carved out of the solid rock mountain over almost six decades of Cold War paranoia, maybe two hundred thousand civilians now lived down there, separated from the military and governmental complex just above.
“Special Agent Goldsmith. Are you Agent Daniel Sawyer?”
“Yessir.” Daniel stood, showing the respect he felt a senior agent deserved.
“I’ll be taking over your post for the remainder of this shift. You are to report to Level Nineteen. You will then find and assist Special Agent Livery and Deputy Director Locodo in interrogations.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, Special Agent, but I haven’t received any-” The desk phone rang just then and Daniel almost felt like not answering it, but that was part of his duty rotation. “Level Thirty CQ, go ahead.” The voice on the other end, three levels down in the actual Presidential Bunker, informed him that he would soon be relieved by Special Agent Goldsmith. What marvelous timing, like warning the Pacific Fleet about Pearl Harbor on the afternoon of December 7th.
Packing his book and bagged lunch, Daniel made his way to the nearest elevator and piled in with a bunch of Marine MP’s heading to the same place. Apparently some of the people being questioned were not cooperative, but thankfully those were not the people Daniel was meant to speak with. He wasn’t sure why he’d even been selected for this interrogation, that was Shane’s specialty.
“Agent Sawyer, reporting as ordered.” He said to Deputy Director Locodo after finding her first. He had to resist the temptation to stand at attention and salute. It was just another habit he was trying to break these days. Kelly had been working hard to demilitarize her new husband, so this was practice.
“Good. I have some news for you, and an assignment if you decide you want it.”
Daniel felt like he was being messed with. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I thought all the agents already available were on the task of questioning Texan POWs.”
“You’re not here to question a Texan. I know you’re not their biggest fan, so I’m giving you one of our citizens, so there is no conflict of interest of course.” That was the new secret way of saying white people shouldn’t interrogate other whites. Of course there was no merit to the idea, it was just misguided social revenge. “There’s probably no need to be rough with this one, but she may know something you’ll want to know.” Locodo said, handing Daniel a touchscreen tablet. It had all the information on the woman Daniel was to speak with. “And as for the news, I’m not sure how you’ll take it, but your old commanding officer Colonel Jeffry Sharp, is dead.”
Daniel managed to stifle his smile, but worked hard to look like he cared. “So who got him, Ma’am? Car crash, alcohol poisoning, Vic, suicide, Pissing off one of his closest friends maybe? The list could literally go on forever.”
“Hardly.” Locodo scrolled down the page to where Daniel needed to pay attention. “This man, a Rebel who calls himself Sheriff, is the culprit. You’ll be interviewing his ex-girlfriend. He and his brother made a deal with Texas and kept our advanced forces in the dark about it. When the forward units of 3rd ID reached Springfield, Missouri they ran into elements of the Missouri Army National Guard supported by the entire fucking Texan 5th Army. A few weeks later, before the showdown at Kansas City, Colonel Sharp reported strong evidence of a small city holding out just south of St. Louis. Against orders he took a splinter of one company and liberated the town without a shot. But that was because the people he was there to save were planning an ambush. They attacked him and his men while the Texans simultaneously hit our encampments on the Kansas border.”
“With all due respect, ma’am, I’d rather sit at Post 13 for a week of twelve on, twelve off than ask one of our people about someone they used to know. It would be like the Texans interrogating my girlfriend from junior year of high school. There’s no chance we’re the same people. Hell, he may not even like the same color she remembers, ya know?”
Locodo was prepared for this. “This man, Sheriff Ethan J. Cally, beat Colonel Sharp’s face in with a brick after the surrender had already been sounded.”
“Jesus.” Daniel swore, looking at the 8x10 color glossy autopsy photos Texas had sent back to the Federals through the neutral Red Cross. He was a little jealous it wasn’t him, but as always kept that special little thought-nugget to himself.
“I assumed, having read your files on the Lincoln incident, that you may not care one way or the other if Sharp is dead. What I will point out, is your friend, Specialist Hubert Tyrone Garner.” Daniel’s blood froze. “…was assigned to Colonel Sharp’s personal protection detail. Since the bulk of Sharp’s forces were either dead or surrendering at the time of his death, it is only logical to assume Sheriff Cally was responsible for Specialist Garner’s death too.”
“Hugh’s dead…” He tried very hard to compartmentalize this, to show no emotion to Locodo. He failed. “So who’s the person I’m talking to? If she was here the whole time, how could she know anything useful about our Johnny Reb?”
“She was Mr. Cally’s fiancé before the outbreaks. Just spend a few minutes with her, don’t pressure her, she works for the Cheyenne Times so she’ll be watching us right back. Just see if you can get a feel for what this country sheriff is all about. See if he’s truly unreasonable, or if like you’re already expecting, Colonel Jeffry Sharp just rubbed him the wrong way.”
“To what end, ma’am? Has this sheriff been mailing anthrax and glitter filled love letters to the President?” Daniel felt so alienated by what he was being asked to do he dared Locodo to fire him. “Christ. Did he tell the press The Witch is a raging lesbi-cunt from hell?”
Locodo ignored him with the same semi-medicated calm the Big Man exuded. “When we retake the Midwest we will pursue charges against Mr. Cally. Don’t share that with her, unless of course she brings it up first-”
“Then ask if she’d be willing to testify, I understand.” Daniel was eager to get in there, but mildly irritated Locodo was dodging the questions he really wanted answered. He was shown to an office and left alone just after that. Straightening his tie, Daniel braced for his first solo interrogation. Inside a small room with no blinds on the glass walls was a slightly darker haired version of Kelly sitting patiently with a book open on her lap. Her nose was shorter, and maybe her hair was the same color if she let it down, but best guess was darker.
When he opened the door, though, her demeanor of calm faded instantly. “Who the fuck are you, and why have I been in here for the last three hours? I have a life, you know. A husband at home, shit to do with my time. I am going to tell my editor about this
.”
Daniel’s face remained impassive. “Sorry for the delay Miss Dougherty. Can I call you Nicole?”
“It’s Misses Bolton now. I got married four months ago. But yeah, you can call me Nicole.” She took a breath. “Sorry for snapping at you. It’s been a long day already.”
“It’s fine, Miss Bolton. I agree that for what I’ve been sent to ask you, none of it really warrants wasting so much of anyone’s time. Congratulations seem to be in order, I tied the knot recently as well. However, I’m sorry this conversation will have little if anything to do with your current husband. Mr. Bolton is a bank teller at a local America’s Bank branch, no wants no warrants… the same goes for you.”
“Well duh. We’re good people. Which precinct are you with again?” Nicole asked.
“I’m not a cop. I work for the United States Secret Service. My name is Agent Daniel Sawyer, and I’m here to ask you a few questions that I will need answered at length.”
Nicole’s eyes widened. “Look, I’m just an intern at the paper, I didn’t write that article.”
“What article?”
“Well, whatever article you’re investigating me for. I swear, I just file copies and do what the internet used to do around the office. They barely notice I work there.”
Daniel actually let himself smile a little, which must have confused Nicole. “This has nothing to do with you, or your job, or any articles of any kind. This has to do with the death of a man I knew, and the circumstances to which he found himself… well, dead.”
“Now I’m really confused.” Nicole admitted.
Gaging her reactions as genuine, Daniel decided to reveal more. “When’s the last time you spoke to Ethan Cally?”
World of Ashes II Page 30
