The Final Day

by William R. Forstchen

  “Oh, really?” John said, and he could not help but offer a sarcastic grin. “Can I have time to say good-bye to my wife?”

  “Wife?”

  “Guess you wouldn’t have known, or would you? I assume Fredericks, before we killed him, was sending up reports.”

  “Actually, I didn’t know. Who is she?”

  John offered a brief explanation to his old and perhaps now former friend as to how he and Makala had met on the Day and all that had transpired afterward.

  “I had hoped to see my child born,” John concluded, “but guess you need to haul me out of here ASAP.”

  Bob shook his head. “I’m not going to do that.”

  “Bob, you have orders to follow.”

  Bob’s gaze turned icy cold. “Don’t push it, John. I’m putting my neck out as is. The original orders were to take this place by force.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  “Again, don’t push it. Just that I knew there was a better way. And part of that better way is to leave you in peace.”

  “So I can be a puppet figurehead?”

  “Damn, you are hostile,” Bob replied.

  “I have every reason to be hostile,” John snapped back. “We were doing just fine until two hours ago.”

  “There is a far bigger world out there than this ‘State of Carolina,’ as you call it.”

  “I know that.”

  “No, you don’t. Not really.”

  “Enlighten me, then, sir.”

  Bob began to stand up. “I understand your feelings, but if this is how it’s going to be, let’s just cut the crap. I’m not going to put you under arrest and transport you to Bluemont. Nor anyone else here.” He paused. “I just implore you to keep things stable with no resistance. You do that for me, and I can skirt around that other order for a while.”

  “Aren’t you breaking orders?”

  “Come on, you know there is always leeway for a commander in the field if he knows how to play it.”

  “And something called the Fifth and Sixth Amendments of the Bill of Rights. Does Bluemont even have the right to accuse me of treason, prosecute me for a capital crime? And the Sixth Amendment is about being tried in my state or district where the alleged crime took place by a jury of my peers. Something about our revolution and protest against those being arrested without warning and transported away. It was so important an issue back then that we wrote it into the Constitution. I could cite a few other points from that document as well.”

  “Damn it, of course you know I am aware of that.”

  “And Bluemont isn’t? I find that troubling, Bob.”

  “Again, don’t press me, John.”

  “I’m not pressing you, sir. Perhaps it is you who are pressing yourself.”

  “Damn it, listen to me! Just listen for a minute.”

  John nodded and sat back, breaking eye contact and deliberately focusing his gaze on the portrait of Washington at Valley Forge.

  “Asheville and Greenville-Spartanburg are to become the staging area to bring Atlanta back under control.”

  “My God, sir. Who is your head of intelligence? Atlanta is a hellhole. You’ll be facing tens of thousands down there, the survivors of a dog-eat-dog existence the last two years. I know. The southern extent of what you dismissively call the State of Carolina is not a hundred miles away from there, and we still on occasion have refugees staggering in from there. Word is that Fort Benning collapsed within weeks after the Day. After that, posse-like groups moved in and looted out weapons from there. Your force might be facing some nasty ground-to-air stuff. Bob, taking back Atlanta…” He sighed. “It will make Sherman’s job look easy in comparison.”

  “I already know that. Look, John, we’ve got to get our act together east of the Mississippi, and Atlanta is part of that job. This world is still tottering on the edge of a full-scale nuclear exchange. We are all playing a game of brinkmanship now that we have been pushed off the table as the one remaining superpower we thought we were back in the ’90s. It’s as bad as—if not worse than—when you were a young lieutenant back in Germany watching the Fulda Gap against the Soviets. There’s good intelligence the Chinese have moved surface-to-surface nukes onto our mainland, aimed at here. That is a seven- to ten-minute launch-to-strike time at most.”

  “And our boomers out in the Pacific?”

  “I can’t discuss that with you.”

  “Have we abandoned even that?” John snapped.

  “Our only hope of survival is to present a unified nation and do it damn quick. Atlanta is but one part of that equation. To the rest of the world, we look like we’re in tatters. That whole damn experiment with the Army of National Recovery made us look even more the fools. Bluemont has decided to go to whatever extreme necessary to get the job done and finish it before spring.”

  Bob fell silent, John returning his gaze to his old friend. He could sense the strain he was under. Something within him felt it was time to finally ask yet again.

  “You sent Quentin to try to reach out to me first, and you did so behind Bluemont’s back, didn’t you?”

  “Kind of.”

  “What do you mean, ‘kind of’?”

  “I talked with him about it. Originally, he was to be airlifted down to you as an envoy. I was thinking of dropping him off inside your territory, do it covertly.”

  “But then?”

  “He deserted and did it on his own.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me correctly, and that stays here. Okay?”

  John nodded.

  “Why desert?”

  “He picked up on some rumors. Told me the night before he lit out that he could no longer abide by those orders, and the following morning he was gone, along with three others in a Humvee.”

  “What rumors?”

  Bob hesitated for a moment and then relented, speaking softly.

  “You asked me about this at the airport the other day and I didn’t feel comfortable telling you then, but now? I think it is time you realized what I am trying to contain, what all of us are facing. There’s some talk. Can’t say how, where, or from whom. Just talk that if need be, Bluemont will trigger an EMP.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” John cried. “Against who?”

  “Southern United States.” Bob shook his head and then stood up. “You repeat that to anyone and I’ll have you gagged and hauled out of here today, whether it turns into a fight or not. I’ve said too much already.” There was a sharp edge of warning—or was it panic in his voice for having said more than he should have?

  “You say a word anywhere, and by God, I will ship you to Bluemont, let this place rebel, and then you know the results. Do you read me, Colonel Matherson?”

  During his entire career under this general, John could only recall several real dressing-downs, though he had witnessed it delivered to many another. Bottom line, it was why some stayed majors and colonels and only a select few had generals’ stars pinned to their uniforms. There at times had to be this ruthless edge no matter whom it was being delivered against.

  “John, I’m trying to beat the clock. I have orders to neutralize Atlanta and bring it back into the fold within the month. It’s to demonstrate to China and the rest of the world that we are firmly in control of our territory east of the Mississippi. I need Asheville along with Greenville-Spartanburg as secured staging areas for the push south. I need that now.”

  “Whoever gave you that order is insane. Atlanta is now the lower circle of hell, Bob. You could sink an entire army corps into that place and it will be another Fallujah.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Bob replied wearily. “Asheville is part of a far bigger game. And if it doesn’t work, Bluemont is willing to do whatever they deem necessary to get their point across to everyone here. It’s seen as a message as well to China that we will use any means possible to pacify remaining resistance within our territory and in turn a clear warning as well to not press us any fur
ther.”

  Whether what he said was planned and intentional or not, he must have inwardly realized he had spilled a highly classified secret.

  “All right, sir, it stays in this room. You have my oath on that. But please go on.”

  Bob sat down and looked at the half-empty mug of herbal tea. “You sure you got nothing else here?” he finally asked, motioning to his empty cup.

  John nodded, stood up, and without another word went out into the hallway. Several of his students were still hanging about, and he asked them to fetch Kevin Malady. His campus commander of their battalion was before him less than a minute later. John whispered a request, and Kevin grinned and ran off.

  It was, of course, a dry campus, but even under the strictest of rules at any such place, there were always some ready to bend those rules, and one had to be foolish not to recognize that fact. Kevin was back in less than five minutes, handing over a small hiking backpack. John took it back into the office, closed the door, and produced a quart bottle of moonshine, half-full, and just handed it to Bob, who took a long swig and passed it to John, who took a drink as well before putting the lid back on and passing it back.

  “One of the traditional products of these mountains,” John said, coughing a bit since it certainly was strong stuff and burned on the way down.

  Bob took another long sip and nodded his thanks. “Good stuff,” he gasped, and he motioned to push the jar back.

  “Keep it.”

  “Thanks, I will. Not Dalwhinnie fifteen-year-old scotch, but one lives with what they can these days.” He took another sip and sighed. “All right, John, do I have your sworn oath that what I have said will stay in this room? Not even to your wife, who I hope to soon meet?”

  John finally nodded.

  “Just rumor, mind you. Some chatter my own people picked up off encrypted sat comms. Speculation that to bring down Atlanta and any other pockets of resistance in the South, an EMP will be burst above the Gulf of Mexico coast to knock off-line any technology they’ve managed to bring back up over the last two years, and then we move in the following day. Line-of-sight effect, as you know. It would include here.”

  “In the name of God, why?” As John asked, he thought of just how delicate the infrastructure his community had managed to bring back online over the last year and a half was. Even a low-yield burst would destroy everything they had managed to re-create.

  “Knocks whatever is left down and takes them off balance. You aren’t the only one who is getting the genie back out of the bottle when it comes to electricity, getting some cars and trucks running again.” Bob now fixed him with a sharp gaze. “Or the Black Hawk here and there that has gone missing and could raise hell with our side.”

  “Isn’t this a sledgehammer to blot out a fly? What threat do we present?”

  “It would be a message to the rest of the world as well even if Bluemont says someone else did it—that we are ready to do it to the entire rest of the world and will not hesitate to do so. We’ve been pushed back as far as we will accept and no further. It is a game far beyond you and me, but it will bring down everything you and your friends have created here.”

  John felt sick inside just thinking of how each small step back from the darkness had so lifted the morale of all. To suddenly have that go entirely down again would be a final deathblow. If it was delivered, whoever was left afterward might as well crawl into their graves and pull the sod over themselves and die.

  He could not reply and just sat there in silence. If at this moment Bob had produced a cigarette, he would have taken it, his pledge to Jennifer gone, for indeed there would be nothing left, no hope left, no dream of rebuilding if this was indeed the level that Bluemont was willing to go to.

  “It is why I had to bring you in now, John,” Bob said softly, taking another sip from the mason jar. “I’m trying to forestall it, to make a stab at Atlanta first and hope for the best. If that fails, at least I can argue that this region is back in the fold, and if an EMP is detonated to do it farther out to sea or at lower altitude so you are not impacted.”

  “Bob, just sit back for another year or two, let those barbarians left in Atlanta literally eat each other, then you might be able to move in. But try it now? EMP first or not, you damn well had better have a lot more troops than General Sherman did; otherwise, it will be a bloody disaster.”

  Bob nodded sadly and then made a show of looking at his old-style wristwatch. “It’s been nearly an hour. I don’t want my young officer up there to get anxious and come looking for me. It might trigger something.”

  “The mood my people are in, if he comes down here like gangbusters, yes, it will go bad.”

  “Then I’d better get back.” Bob stood up, John rising as well.

  “What next?” John asked.

  “I’m setting up forward headquarters in Asheville. Can you assure me there won’t be a fight?”

  “Asheville? Not sure. Chances are there won’t be resistance; the fight was already punched out of that town long ago. I think, though, your safer bet would be to laager in at the airport, far enough out of town so you don’t have to deal with some nutjob sniper, but close enough that everyone will know you’re there. If that convoy that’s coming up from Greenville, South Carolina, gets through the Green River Gorge safely, the airport would be a good place to rendezvous.”

  “I’ll need the airfield there,” Bob replied, “so your suggestion is a good one. We have a couple of C-130s with us in Roanoke that have already touched down on the interstate, but getting the runway at Asheville back up would be preferred. And the navy can fly some things in as well once we get that runway your people chewed up repaired.”

  Bob looked down at the mason jar. John gestured for him to take it, and Bob slipped it into the pocket of his parka. “This is the way it is, John. You stay on, function as before, and if you follow my rules, I’ll report to Bluemont the situation is under control here and you are under house arrest for now—or better yet, we can’t find you—and that this area has achieved level-one stability. You’ve got to stay low. For heaven’s sake, don’t screw it up by letting Bluemont catch wind that you are out and about. If you do that, I want you to continue to function as before but behind the scenes, and for God’s sake, don’t go broadcasting that around, so stay off the radios.”

  “And in return?”

  “I report this area is secure.”

  “And the EMP?”

  “Let me cross that bridge a month from now. Maybe I can talk them down from it. You’re right; I know as well as you that trying to take Atlanta now would turn into another Fallujah or even a Stalingrad. I need your help with this. Can I count on you?”

  John finally nodded in reply, for after all, there was no other alternative short of seeing another war fought by his community.

  “You got a landline down to the airport?” Bob asked.

  “We have a line to Hendersonville.”

  “Is the wire near the airport?”

  “It runs along the interstate.”

  “Get one of your people down there today, have them point it out, and I’ll have my people link it in. I want that done by tonight. That will then be how we stay in touch.”

  John nodded. “EMP. If those bastards are going to do it, what do you do?”

  “Don’t ask me that yet,” Bob said wearily.

  “Will you give me warning?”

  Bob stared at him and finally nodded. “If you see me pulling out of here with everything we can haul, pulling back to Roanoke to be out of line of sight, you’ll know it’s coming. That’s the best I can do for you.”

  “And you would let them do that?”

  Bob looked back at the painting of General Washington kneeling in the snow of Valley Forge. “Ask me again in a month.”

  “All right, then,” he said, finally adding, “sir.”

  “Thank you, John. I’m sorry it had to be this way. Please keep your people reined in; let’s make this as easy as possible. From he
re, I’ll go straight to Asheville to make sure things are settled down there. Once that phone line is in, I’ll be in daily touch.”

  Zipping up his parka, Bob opened the door, John following him out. Bob paused, looked through the open door into the adjoining chapel, and stepped in. Students up on a high scaffolding, working to repair the damaged ceiling, were hammering away, disturbing the silence. Bob stopped at the back of the chapel, taking it in, John coming to his side.

  “I remember this place well, from when Mary was laid to rest.”

  “It’s the heart of this campus,” John said. “Lot of days, even before the Day, this is where I’d come to pray by myself, to sort things out. A lot of hearts and memories are tied to this place.”

  Bob nodded and then simply knelt down, lowered his head, whispered a prayer, made the sign of the cross, and stood back up.

  “Pray for me, John.”

  And at that moment, John again fully trusted his old commander. Coming to attention, John saluted him, Bob returning the salute and then embracing him. The chapel was now entirely silent; the students who had been working had stopped and were watching them. Though not planned at all, John knew that word of the prayer, salute, and embrace would spread from one end of the campus to the other within minutes, and for the moment, it had defused the potential of a deadly confrontation.

  He walked his friend to the outside door where Maury was patiently waiting. Bob offered him a friendly smile, jokingly asking if he could drive the jeep on the way back, and his two friends drove off, Bob at the wheel, tires spinning in the snow.

  As he drove off, John made a mental note to immediately call Ernie and tell him to check the camouflage for the antenna array on the roof of his house. No sense in Bob getting wind that they were already working on their own to try to listen in to Bluemont. And with what Bob had just told him, now there was true urgency to that task.

  John returned to the chapel alone, sat in the rear pew, lowered his head, and, like Washington at Valley Forge, began to pray while outside snow again began to fall.