Daniel shook his head sadly and opened a folder in his stack of notes. “Well, I don’t know if this will do anything to brighten your mood, but…” he handed the sheet of paper over. “This is an official letter from the remaining heads of Congress. A resolution in part, basically granting you legitimate authority to act as titular leader of the United States during the protectorate. They make it expressly clear,” Daniel said pointing at the correct paragraph, “you are not to be considered a President in any sense of the Constitution. Instead you are some sort of emergency executive, for the duration of the crisis. Unless the United Nations does something different. According to State, the United Nations is happy to see things as they are for the time being.”
Suthby looked up from the official document, his finger absently rubbing over the Congressional seal. “So this,” he said holding up the paper, “basically says that everything I’m doing is now legitimate and should be taken with the full force and effect of law?”
Daniel nodded.
A smile spread across Suthby’s face. “Then let’s put this to the test.”
CHAPTER 18
Prison Camp
THE DOOR TO THEIR cabin crashed open. All twenty-three men in the small room had to shield their eyes from the bright afternoon sun.
Erik lowered his arm and saw the shapes of four men carrying rifles. His mind raced as they stepped into the cabin. He and the other captives had decided to jump the next group of Russians who showed up—if it was night outside. The Russians had dragged him out for interrogation sessions during the day and sometimes at night. They rotated on a random basis.
Damn. Not yet. Needs to be dark out for this to have a chance…
The prisoners were starting to get used to the routine and tracked the passage of time by when people were hauled away for questioning.
The questions. Stepanovich always started with “Are you in the special forces?” Only then would he move on to inane topics like the weather—as if Erik could tell what the hell the sky was doing, or how hot it was outside when he was locked up in a building with covered windows.
Rough hands lifted Erik to his feet. “Here we go again,” he muttered.
“Stay strong, sir,” someone replied from the darkness.
“Hooah,” said another voice.
“Silence!” roared one of the guards in his thick Russian accent. Two of them held their rifles at the ready, daring the Americans to try something. The other two had strong grips on both Erik’s arms and half-dragged, half-walked him out of the cabin into the pale light.
Erik could see bits of ash floating in the air. The sounds of nature had been suppressed, as if it were snowing. Erik took a deep breath of the outside air and coughed. Despite the pall in the sky caused by smoke from the world’s largest funeral pyre, he could smell the sweetness of the pines on the breeze.
“Move.”
Erik staggered forward and glanced over his shoulder at the guard who spoke. Cold, blue eyes stared right back. Erik dragged his feet and shuffled along, scanning his surroundings in an attempt to take in every detail out of the corner of his eyes. The Russians prodded him with their rifles several times, but he suffered the abuse in silence. The men in his cabin who had sworn to help him escape needed all the information he could gather. That meant taking his time and observing everything. It also meant faking an injury. He limped slightly on his left leg to convince the Russians he was already moving at top speed.
The prison camp was situated in a Bible camp. That bit of info had shocked everyone. There were at least a dozen large cabins. There was a lake nearby and the entire complex was a loose circle set deep in the pine woods.
He couldn’t be sure which direction they were from Orlando because the smoke from the dead city was everywhere. He squinted at the constant gray above the trees—even at night everything seemed gray. Erik hadn’t seen any stars when he’d been dragged from the cabin after sunset.
Tucked away on the south side of the camp, there was a collection of two more cabins, an administration building and next to that, the cafeteria building. The two large cabins, Erik discovered, held the women and children who had been traveling with Captain Winters’ soldiers. He was sure that’s where Brin, Susan, and Ted’s kids were being held. They had to be there.
Between the two cabins a razor-wire fence had been constructed to allow the prisoners to roam freely between the buildings. Every time he limped past the two cabins, Erik desperately searched the faces that stared back on the other side of the fence. He had yet to see Brin, Susan, or any of Ted’s kids.
Once more, Erik was disappointed as he shuffled past the two cabins prodded by his captors. He was about to turn into the administration building for another round of questioning when the guards stopped and Stepanovich himself appeared around the corner. He raised a hand and waved Erik over to the rough-hewn gate in the fence. The women on the other side of the gate backed up as the Russian guards approached and shooed them away.
“Ah, hello there, my friend.”
Erik stared at the Russian and said nothing. His fellow prisoners had been coaching him and he’d had a crash course in interrogation. Stay quiet. Watch. Listen.
The Russian nodded and gestured for Erik to join him near the fence. He smiled. “I have a surprise for you today.”
Erik said nothing, but raised an eyebrow. I’ll bet you do.
“No questions.”
“What?” Erik asked, shocked into speaking.
“No questions. You see? I am not some barbarian. As a show of good faith—which, I will expect you to relay to your comrades—I am going to let you stay here,” he said with a grand sweep of his arms, indicating the cabins where the families were being kept. “For the time being.” His smile broadened. “Yes, you may see your wife.”
Erik closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer of thanks. When he opened them, the Russian was still staring at him expectantly, a slight curl at the corners of his mouth. The man was supremely confident. He exuded arrogance. He knew Erik would never turn down this offer. Erik swallowed the bitterness of that knowledge and clung fast to a mental image of Brin.
He took a hesitant step toward the gate and froze. “What do I have to do?”
The Russian looked surprised. “Nothing, comrade Larsson. Go,” he said and opened the gate. “Find your wife. We will talk later.”
Erik stared at the Russian, but hesitated only a moment longer before he staggered through the gate. He searched the faces of the women and children who had started to gather in the courtyard between the cabins. There were many more people here than he had expected—the cabins were easily four times the size of the one in which he had been kept prisoner since Orlando fell.
“Brin?” he called as the gate squealed shut behind him. “Brin?” he called again, louder. Several women rushed up to him, all asking for news of their husbands. They pulled on his sleeve and soon others surrounded him, all talking at once—crying, screaming, and begging for news of loved ones. The noise melded together to form a raucous thunder that began make Erik’s head hurt.
“Brin!” Erik shouted, using his height to peer over the sea of heads. He started moving forward, trying gently to use his arms and guide the women out of his path. As soon as he moved one, two or three more pressed in to the gap and blocked his progress.
"Hey, I saw you when they brought you in! You were with my husband!"
“Ow, easy!”
"What if you heard of Orlando?"
"Hey do you know—"
Erik blocked out the voices as he pushed someone roughly aside. The woman yelled in protest, but Erik ignored her and kept going, shouting Brin's name over and over again. He was working his way back toward the big cabin on the left when the door opened and Ted's youngest son, Junior, appeared in the doorway. The little boy was the spitting image of Ted, right down to the crop of blond hair on his head.
"Mr. Erik! You're back!" the toddler yelled. Erik could have wept for joy. He pushed his way f
ree of the knot of women tagging around him and raced across the sandy soil to get to Junior. Erik swept Junior up in his arms and spun through the air as the boy laughed with glee.
"You have no idea how happy I am to see you!” Erik told the giggling boy. He gently set Ted’s son down and knelt in front of him. The voices of the women surrounding them were now less pleading and angrier. He turned and silenced them with a dark look.
“I will talk with you all in a moment. I need to speak to my friend’s son, here.”
Turning back to Junior, he said in a gentle voice: “Have you seen your daddy? Have you heard from him?"
The towhead shook side to side. "Nuh-uh."
"Okay Teddy, is your mommy here?" Erik swallowed nervously. "Is Miss Brin here?"
The smile returned to his angelic face and the boy nodded. "Inside." Junior’s face fell and he looked down, almost at the point of tears. Before Erik could say anything else, the little boy clutched Erik's neck and flung himself into his arms.
"Mommy doesn't feel good. Miss Ben says we need a doctor, but the bad men won’t let us see one. I miss my daddy."
Erik suppressed a smile at the toddler’s mispronunciation of his wife’s name. The little boy had yet to get it right. "Teddy, this is very important… Can you take me to them? Can you take me to your mommy?"
"Okay!" said Junior, all smiles again. He turned and bolted into the interior of the building. Erik was hot on his heels. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom that felt so familiar, Erik realized that the interior of the building was much bigger than he had first thought.
He could see cots lining the walls on either side of him. He heard moans, crying, and every now and then a cough. As he followed the little boy into the darkness, a ripple of murmurs followed him. Word had spread that someone had arrived from the outside.
Junior led Erik all the way to the far end of the building. He noticed that many of the women laying in cots had bottles of water on the floor next to them. Erik grudgingly admitted that at least the Russians were decent enough to treat the women and children better than they had thus-far treated the soldiers.
Whispered talk preceded him down either side of the building as word spread from cot to cot. Toward the back end of the building, Erik could see that one of the windows that the Russians had covered had been smashed, letting a ray of light in around the corner.
It was in this little enclave that Erik found Brin, bent over the cot that held Ted's wife.
Erik froze when saw Susan’s condition. Even in the semi-darkness, he could see that she was pale, with dark circles under her sunken eyes. She was covered from the waist down with a soiled sheet, despite the heat of the day. He watched the uneven, shallow rhythm of Susan's breathing. The dark stains across her shirt and on the bed sheets told him all he needed to know. Susan Jensen was not long for this world.
Brin leaned over her friend, looking at her watch and holding Susan's wrist in her right hand. She had her back to the window and was looking down so she didn't see Erik standing there at the corner.
The light from the shattered window bathed her in a soft glow and the motes of dust that swirled around her head resembled a halo. Erik's heart swelled in relief and when he could contain himself no longer, he cleared his throat and stepped into the room. Brin, startled at the sudden sound, looked up with sudden fear in her eyes. The fear vanished and a grateful smile spread across her lips. She gently put Susan's hand down and raced into Erik's arms.
"Are you okay?" she asked in a tremulous voice. "I had no idea what happened—after that soldier hit you in the back of the head you just dropped… You just… They carried you—"
"Sssh… It's okay, I'm here… Everything is going to be okay now…" Erik said in a voice thick with emotion. He smoothed her oily hair and wiped the smudge of dirt from her cheek with his trembling thumb. "God, I'm so glad to see you. Are you okay?"
"Erik…" She looked down and for the first time Erik realized that her filthy shirt was torn at the shoulder. The top two buttons were missing. On further examination, he saw that her the left side of her face was slightly puffy and she sported a faint black eye. The corner of her lip was dark with dried blood.
"What did they—"
Brin inhaled sharply and he felt her body stiffen. She looked Erik in the eyes and said in a quiet voice, "We can deal with this later. We have to get out of this place. We have to save Susan. Erik, the kids…"
Erik felt his hands tremble with rage. He couldn't bring himself to think, let alone say anything about the sounds he had heard through the wall that first terrible day of captivity. The evidence on Brin's face and clothes certainly appeared to confirm his worst fears.
"What…" he said through clenched teeth. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and tried again. "Today…?" His shaking hands gently touched her cheek and forehead, trying to smooth the hair that threatened to fall across her face.
Brin’s slender shoulders shook with a suppressed sob as she leaned into his chest and tried to bury her face in his shoulder. "What they did… I… Erik, I'm sorry…"
Erik wrapped his arms around his wife and held her tight, murmuring for her to be quiet and just breathe. "Don’t ever be sorry, baby. It wasn’t your fault. Brin, whatever happened… We'll get through this. We'll get through it together."
He could feel Brin shaking her head against him. "Erik, it's not that simple… I just…” A new hardness entered her voice. “We don't have time to deal with this right now."
Erik hadn't seen his wife this way since the fall of the Freehold. He had rushed up the stairs of the Keep expecting to see the worst and found Brin completely in charge of trying to save Susan's life. Brin had amazed him then with her tactical awareness, her coolness during the crisis, and her ability to calm everyone in the room enough that Susan's life could be saved by the professionals. That same strength of will, the same steel in her voice and stiffness in her spine were back.
Erik held Brin a moment longer in silence and watched the dust motes swirl. When he felt her fingertips on his chest, he slowly released her from his grip and wiped away the tears that were threatening to spill down his face.
She was right. Whatever had happened—whatever he had heard through those walls—there was nothing that could be done about it now. He glanced down at Susan and saw that she was staring at him with bloodshot eyes.
"I'm not dead yet," she said and managed a weak smile. "I think I'll go for a walk…"
Erik burst out laughing—God, it felt so good to laugh. The pent-up emotion inside him exploded through his chest in a great guffaw that had him doubled over and gasping for breath. Brin was laughing as well. When he finally was able to control his mirth he looked up and saw Susan smiling broadly. She coughed a little, winced, and placed both hands on her stomach.
After a few short breaths, she spoke: "No, really. Though, it does look much worse than it is. Brin was able to patch me up and she's been making me stay here in this cot since we arrived. I don't think I could run a marathon, but if we managed to get out of here, I should be able to walk a little ways.”
Erik knelt at the side of her cot and took her left hand in both of his. She gave him a gentle squeeze. "Before you ask, I haven't seen Ted," Erik said. He saw the disappointment on her face, but he pressed on. "Are the kids okay? I saw Teddy," he said looking around for the small toddler.
"The kids are fine," Susan whispered, with another weak smile. "We've all kind of banded together here, it's like one giant preschool. Got more babysitters here than I know what to do with," she said with a chuckle that caused a coughing fit. When she finally opened her eyes again and relaxed from the wave of pain that shook her body, Susan continued. "If you haven't seen Ted, does that mean the Russians don't know where he is?"
Erik glanced around again. "They’ve been questioning me every day. They asked if there was anyone else in our group and I told them no. They haven’t brought it up since."
Brin sat on the other side of the cot and looked at Eri
k, a frown creasing her forehead. "What do you mean, ‘questioning’ you?"
"The Russians have been interrogating me day and night." Erik shook his head. "They think I’m in the Special Forces or something. It makes no freaking sense. Ted's the one that’s a—”
Susan gripped Erik's hands like a vice. The intensity in her eyes made Erik pause. She tilted her head slightly to indicate the window in the wall above her cot. Erik glanced up in time to see a shadow pass by. He couldn't see anyone out there, but someone had been standing there. Erik glanced back down at Brin who nodded.
The Russians are listening. Got it. He nodded once to the women to signal his understanding. "Ted was always better at making up stories that I was," he said with confidence that he did not feel. "I keep telling them the truth, but they don't listen to me. They think just because I had that damn sword I'm some sort of war hero." He shook his head again. "It doesn’t make any sense."
"Erik," Brin said quietly. "We have to get out of here." She glanced down at Susan, whose eyes were closed.
"I'm right here, you know. And I'm still awake,” mumbled Susan. Even with her eyes closed, the smile that graced her thin face looked pained. "I know how bad off I am. I know that if I don't find a real doctor, I'm going to die. It's all I think about, day and night." Her eyes fluttered open and after a few seconds she focused on Erik. "I've made my peace with it. The only thing I worry about is my children. And Ted."
"I know," said Erik in a quiet voice. He squeezed Susan’s hand. He leaned in close. "We're working on a plan to get out of here," he whispered. "I'm in a cabin on the other side of this place, locked in with about twenty guys. They’re all soldiers—real soldiers, not like me. They’re coming up with a plan on how to escape."
Erik heard some shouts from the other end of the building and a woman screamed. He got up from the cot and walked to the edge of the little side room and peered around the corner. In the distance at the far end of the building he could see a couple of flashlights swing around, the beams of light illuminating women and children huddled in the darkness.
Sic Semper Tyrannis Page 24
