Against the Storm: A Fortress Farm Novel

by G. R. Carter

  “Maleah’s family has shown tremendous resiliency in one disaster after another,” he continued. “We lost Dad…do you know how many of their family they’ve lost? But instead of getting spiteful like us, they just went back to work. Their nephew is in Caliphate territory right now with other Tracker volunteers, while we sit here in our mansion and drink wine. I’m sick of playing king, Mother, I want to actually do something good again. Like Dad. I want to help people, build a real life.”

  “I’m sorry, son,” Maryanne said, flipping a switch from tyrant to victim. “I didn’t realize you hated me so much.”

  “Come on, Mom! Seriously! It’s not always about you. Don’t you get that? We’re still on the verge of destruction every day. You act like we still live in the old United States, worried about what movie to watch. One bad harvest, a coal mine fire, or especially another attack from someone worse than America or Ditchers, and we’re finished as a province. We just don’t have time to screw around playing politics against the Hamiltons anymore.”

  Maryanne sat down in a silk-covered chair. She looked around at the ornate woodwork, the beautiful paintings, the intricate sculptures purchased from salvage crews working the dead cities—almost every one handpicked and placed with care. She looked at her son through misty eyes.

  His face softened and he knelt down beside her. “Mother, I know how much work you’ve put into making Grand Shawnee. This is not a question of forgetting who we are, or reversing our course; this is an evolution.”

  He grabbed her arm gently. “Mother, you have to understand, this bizarre world we live in is forcing us to make a choice. When we first moved here, I would have never dreamed I’d side with the Hamiltons on anything. Not for any reason. But the truth is, Grand Shawnee will never be strong enough to stand on its own, and there’s a fight coming between ARK and the Republic. We’re caught between them.

  “Alex has always said that the Olsens are part of the Republic’s DNA. Just as much as the Hamiltons are. He’s right. Even if I wanted to go against him personally, and I’m not so sure I want to anymore, I could never fight against the Republic.”

  Maryanne didn’t look at him, just stared down at the pattern of the fine rug below her feet. “Just like Lee fighting for Virginia instead of taking the smart route. You’ll end up the same as him.”

  “Maybe. Although if the Caliphate really does attack, I’ll be lucky to retire broke instead of broken,” he chuckled. “I don’t think we’ll be getting ‘peace with honor’ if we lose to them.”

  His mood turned more serious. “I’m replacing Renaldo with Skyler Hunsinger. It’s only befitting that Maleah’s family have one of the Republic Senate seats.”

  “Why? I guess I understand giving the Hunsingers a seat, but why replace Louis?”

  “Tri-S has been keeping an eye on him. He’s got something going on, something he’s not telling us. At least, I hope he’s not telling you…” Eric left the question unasked, hoping for his mother’s honest answer.

  “No, nothing that I’m aware of,” she said shaking her head. Her head was spinning, trying to grasp what Eric was asking her.

  “That’s a relief. Just make sure you and Marcus keep a close eye on Renaldo. Be careful, at least until we know he’s clear. Okay, Mom?” he pleaded.

  She didn’t answer him right away, trying to process the sudden reversal in her son’s behavior. “Mom! Are you hearing me?”

  “Of course, son. I’ll be extra careful.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Akershus Festning (Fortress), Personal Estate of Governor Eric and Maleah Olsen

  Rend Lake – Grand Shawnee

  Year 12.10 A.G.R. (After Great Reset)

  Day before the Free State Summit

  Alex rocked back and forth with the uneven terrain under his transport. Springs designed to carry the weight of the converted armored bank truck didn’t have much room for luxury. Each bump vibrated up the through the steel plating and settled in the pins still implanted in his damaged bones. The seats did their best to make him otherwise comfortable and he at least had plenty of room to stretch out stiff joints. His folding desk was already upright against the wall, giving him unobstructed views of the rolling farmstead filling the front window. Bulletproof glass distorted it slightly, but even though they were only small rectangles, he could still make out most of the detail.

  He glanced over at the chair Bek usually rode in. She had traveled ahead of him two days, as had several others of his staff. Even for nations a fraction in size of their pre-Reset predecessors, leaders traveled with large entourages. Alex stayed home as long as he could, trying to manage the flow of information coming in from all over the frontier. The Caliphate was moving; he could feel it as much as anything. Governor Eckert of Lafayette had sent his requests about meeting here after learning of a huge Jihadist force moving down old Interstate 75 on their eastern frontier. The horde wasn’t pivoting to attack the Republic’s easternmost province, almost like they were bypassing it.

  Nothing made sense yet. There was no attack coming at the American Province from across the Illinois River. There were reports of a large-scale raid up by the Quad Cities—he was still awaiting confirmation of that. ARK wasn’t asking for help for their Mississippi River bases; they seemed to be only interested in their feud with Mt. Horab. Alex was desperate for more information. Desperate to get everyone to work together…

  A large horse-mounted statue loomed up ahead, resting on a lowboy trailer. Alex couldn’t remember how tall it was, even though he had approved the specifications himself. Had to be twenty feet tall at least, and filled most of the trailer’s thirty-foot length. It was a bit gaudy, but then most statues were. The mounted man had a determined look on his face and a cavalry-style saber in his right hand. A sheriff’s star was oversized on the figure’s chest, and the both front feet of his horse were off the ground.

  “I think it’s beautiful, sir,” the Shieldholder sitting in the front passenger’s seat said over his shoulder. “I think Governor Olsen will truly appreciate it.”

  “Thank you, Juan. I certainly hope he does.”

  The vehicle rocked to a stop, and the back doors swung open. Shieldholders stood on either side of a ramp that lowered down at gradual incline. Alex spun his chair to the back, using his cane to raise himself up and begin his shuffle out. Neither Shieldholder made an attempt to grab his arm and steady him; both had been around long enough to see others chewed up for trying. Alex stopped on the ramp for a moment, closing his eye and breathing in the air.

  “Welcome to Akershus Festning, Founder Hamilton.”

  Alex smiled and reopened the eye, finding Maleah Olsen standing at the bottom of the ramp smiling back. She was alone, though under the watchful eye of two Tri-S guards at attention about twenty yards away.

  “Maleah, it seems like only yesterday I was watching you and Eric get married. Now here you are with a bushel full of kids and one of the grandest estates I’ve set foot on. I’m a little ignorant on the name though…Norwegian, I’m assuming?”

  She nodded back. “Just a little nod to Olsen family heritage. We named our fortress after one that’s stood—well, we think it’s still standing—in Norway since the 13th century. May the Creator grant such a long life to this humble ground, and to the Republic which it is a proud part of.”

  Alex reached the bottom of the ramp and embraced her. “You’re quite the diplomat. Without your help this would have never happened,” he whispered.

  She graciously nodded as he stepped back and then waved her arm toward the statue. “My husband awaits your arrival, Founder Hamilton. I have arranged it so that you two have total privacy. I am praying for you, sir.”

  Alex simply smiled again and began the fifty-yard walk. Up ahead he could see Eric staring at the immense metal, wood and stone structure, eyes locked on without acknowledging Alex’s arrival.

  “I hope you don’t think it’s too much. I wanted to put one on the square in Philippi, but Bek suggested
I let you see it first. Thought you might rather have it in Mt. Vernon,” Alex said as he finally reached a spot next to Eric. He too kept his eyes on the likeness of Sheriff Olsen. They both stood silent for a moment.

  “I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about it when Maleah told me what you wanted to do. Actually, that’s not true, I thought it was some kind of sick joke you were trying to play. Now, looking at it, I’m really stunned by how it looks. This must have taken a long time and cost a fortune. For being larger than life, it’s still really well done,” Eric said quietly.

  He finally turned and looked at Alex. He saw his former friend differently today. For seven years he had hated him, and on the few times they had met face to face all he felt was disgust. Tersely worded communications through staff were their only contact, even though the affairs of the Republic and Grand Shawnee were intertwined. But his eyes saw a different Alex today, a man trying to stand as tall as he could with the help of his walking stick though clearly in discomfort from the effort. Wrinkles spiderwebbed out from his good eye and even poked through a little from under the patch covering the spot where his other had been. Sandy brown hair couldn’t hide streaks of gray interspersed—through all the physical ailments Eric witnessed a pain of a different kind.

  Internal wounds unhealed by time, a brokenness inflicted not by bombs or bullets but by the regret of a man forced to make impossible decisions, ones holding only the guarantee that someone would be hurt or disappointed. Never the infamous win-win scenario discussed in their youth. Eric had made those decisions himself as Governor of Grand Shawnee. More important, he recognized the same look on his father-in-law’s face—a man who had become another father and mentor. A leader forced into dreadful situations, who had seen some people die because he had decided to save others. The hurt of a good soul facing the account of the Creator here on Earth. These faces embodied someone not longing for their own passing, but not dreading the peace of it either.

  “I loved your dad so much. I miss him every day,” Alex said with a tear welling up. It was the first time he had cried about it, unable to stop now and unwilling to try.

  “I know…I know that now. I guess I knew it before, too. I just couldn’t believe he was gone…”

  “Larger than life, to me your dad really was bulletproof. I just couldn’t imagine he wouldn’t find some way to pull it off. He just always did…and Eric…I got him killed because of it,” Alex said with a choking sob.

  Eric said nothing, he couldn’t. Alex’s words were what he had always felt, that Clark Olsen was killed because his leader had given the wrong order. The young Founder had grabbed the opportunity to avenge his own fallen father by killing their arch-nemesis, and the Olsen family had paid the price. Either as collateral damage or, in times of truly black thinking, a ploy to remove the other legitimate claim to the Founder’s Chair.

  The honesty of the moment robbed Eric of any remaining malice. He just wanted this constant quarrel over with, wanted to move on and raise his family, to see his life’s work in Shawnee solidified. Maleah helped him see that the negative feelings harbored in heart only hurt himself in the long run. It was time to end the feud once and for final.

  “Where would you like the statue to be?” Eric finally asked.

  Alex turned his red-streaked face and said without hesitation, “Philippi. Right across from the Domicile. I want people to walk out of services and see him. I want them to know they’re free to be there because of your dad’s sacrifice.”

  Eric felt his own tears welling up. He managed to fight them off; he wasn’t ready for that just yet. He simply nodded his head. “Agreed.”

  “Good, good. I’m thankful for you Eric. I truly am. I can never express to you how much you mean to Sam and me. What you’ve done here is amazing. I know now’s not the time, but I hope you’ll consider our offer. We miss you, and we want you back with us. At least as much as Shawnee can spare you.”

  Eric sighed and looked back at the statue. “My roots are here now, Maleah’s family is here.” Once more he faced Alex. “But don’t ever think for a second I’m not with you. No matter what, against the storm.”

  The smile flashed back to Alex’s face. “Eternal Republic.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cedarhurst Center for the Arts

  Founder’s Meeting Hall

  Mt. Vernon – Capital City Grand Shawnee Province

  Year 12 A.G.R. (After Great Reset)

  Day before the Free State Summit

  A wind up clock ticked the seconds of the morning away. Sun was shining through beautiful stained glass windows, bringing just a touch of warmth to an otherwise chilly room. Rebekah Hamilton was set up to see dignitaries from all over the Midwest as leaders from the Free States arrived for their hastily organized summit. Her calendar was much more open than it should have been, most of the larger players were boycotting for some reason or another. Every surviving city still sent represenatives, but the real powers were staying away, That was unfortunate, the whole point of this get together was to keep groups that should have been allies from devolving into enemies. But she couldn’t make people attend, only ask.

  She wished her calendar had been too full to accept the request of one particular guest. His presence was one of the main issues, and instinct told her it was about to get even more complicated.

  “I want to stay, Mrs. Hamilton. I mean I want to stay with Mt. Horab and help.” Liam Oliver said.

  Rebekah Hamilton was stunned for a moment. This wasn’t a total surprise. Oliver and Senior Elector Huffman had spent a good deal of time talking since the battles on the river. Rebekah knew Huffman could be very persuasive, even when he didn’t intend to be. Still, the ramifications of such a request were difficult to process.

  “Captain Oliver, I’m not sure if you understand what you’re asking. Jack Diamante is here in Mt. Vernon right now, ready to take you and your crew back on ARKShip One.”

  “I know, I’m putting you and the Founder in a tight spot. But being around all of you made me realize I have to do what I think is right, just like you do.”

  “You’re a Citizen of ARK. Your country and Mt. Horab are nearly in open warfare right now. Many would consider you a traitor for making such a request,” Rebekah informed him.

  “Better to die with a clear conscience, then. I just can’t go back and take orders from the Diamantes to kill those innocent people,” Oliver pleaded.

  “I’m just not sure you understand…” she repeated, more to herself than to Oliver. Already strained relations with ARK would go to impossible if Oliver was allowed to stay. Still, she and Alex had made a one of the hard and fast rules, from day one of their alliance with any nation, that people be free to move as they saw fit. They had turned a blind eye to ever more imposing restrictions ARK and Vincennes put on their people; part of her suddenly regretted that indulgence.

  “Ultimately, it’s not our choice to make, Captain,” Rebekah continued. “You’ll be requesting asylum from the Elector’s Table, not from us. There will be those at the Table who worry such a move will be the final straw with ARK, and refuse the request. You may end up as a man without a country.” The threat was real. In the post-Reset world, a person without friends was easy prey.

  “I’m willing to take that risk. I can help the Buckles, they need me. ARK’s not going to stop until Mt. Horab is leveled or under their control. If I may be so bold as to say it, I believe you already know that,” he said.

  Even after all this time without phones, she still had the urge to pull out her mobile device and call someone for advice. Over a decade since that was possible, yet the impulse still remained. As always, she’d have to rely on her own instinct, her own wit. Only she could make decisions affecting the lives of thousands of people.

  Settled on her decision, she gave Captain Oliver a nod and a warm smile. “I guess you better go get packed. I’ve got a very difficult conversation to have.”

  *****

  Cedarhurst Center for t
he Arts

  Founder’s Meeting Hall

  Mt. Vernon – Capital City Grand Shawnee Province

  Year 12 A.G.R. (After Great Reset)

  One Hour Later

  “Essie killed our crews, Rebekah. Destroyed two of our best skyships. Sent every man and woman to a worst kind of death…on fire, falling and knowing there's no way to survive…” Uncle Jack Diamante paused to let his words sink in.

  Rebekah didn't answer the charge. “Why did Nicole send you? Why didn't she come herself?”

  “She's got a lot of responsibilities. A country to run and a family to care for,” Uncle Jack replied.

  “Like I don't?”

  “Yes, but you're the one who called this meeting. ARK is not part of the Republic, a point I think is sometimes lost on you and Alex.”

  Rebekah stood quiet for a moment. This man in front of her had been a friend and mentor for years. She always felt like she got the truth from him, painful though it might be at times. Now, she wondered if there might be another angle, perhaps she was being played somehow.

  “You're testing us, aren't you?” Rebekah said, surprise and disappointment spilling out in equal parts. “You're trying to make us choose between who we thought was our closest ally, and a group of peace-loving refugees we've supported since the first days of the Reset.” She looked away from her friend, fighting back tears she hadn't expected. “I don't understand why you're doing this. You've got thousands of square miles to expand into, all the resources you can use for a generation, more than that really. And you're absolutely obsessed with a little town full of people who sing ‘Amazing Grace’ to each other every morning.”

  “In a generation those sweet little 'peace lovers,' as you call them,” he made the old air quotes motion, “will be calling ARK the great Satan and blocking our shipping going south. Probably sending suicide bombers to blow up the City,” Uncle Jack said.