“Of course it is, right? Sure,” Roos smiled fully. “Either way, I don’t see how you could lose. Might even carve out a nice chunk of political clout-might even call it power-for yourself. That is, hypothetically speaking.”
Evan turned his attention to the side window as the Mercedes passed a convoy of trucks, civilian and military.
“It’s not about me,” Evan told him. “The Emperor sent me down there to do a job. Honestly, I failed. It’s as simple as that.”
“Oh wait, I figured out one way you could lose.”
No reply. Evan kept his eyes staring outside, but as Roos spoke his head slowly turned, his jaw drooping in the slightest.
“You could have lost if those folks down there gave in and decided to let the army march through. Then everyone would have been happy, especially your buddy, Trevor. Good for him, but not really good for you. No pieces to pick up. Still, that’s water under the bridge, I suppose. But hold the phone, you still could end up behind the eight-ball, Mr. Godfrey. If the big guy ever finds out how you played this whole thing, well, then, he might just lop your head off for that.”
Godfrey snapped. “How dare you! We’ve been friends, Ray, but now you’ve gone too far. I had a job to do and I did my best…to…” Roos greeted the outburst with a series of laughs, sapping Evan’s false fire as he realized he had been set up, that his righteous indignation had been exactly what Roos trawled for.
“Just as I thought. Thanks for clearing that up,” Ray said. “You made damn sure those folks weren’t going to let the army parade on through. I’ll bet you had a tear in your eye when you told Trevor how bad you felt about that.”
Evan’s face turned red and he murmured, “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you have no proof of anything. If you’re trying to blackmail me or something-”
“Oh, now, are you worrying about me? Little old me?” Roos acted insulted. “Mr. Godfrey, haven’t you realized that I’ve chosen which horse to back? Sure you have. That’s why we get along so well.”
“I see.”
“No, not really. So far you’ve just seen me as a guy with the inside scoop. Someone to give you juicy stories for your paper in exchange for a small favor or two. But I’m thinking that maybe there’s a lot more we could be doing.”
Evan did not reply. He eyed Roos as if studying a dangerous puzzle.
“Do you know how I got in to Internal Security? I’ll tell you this, Mr. Godfrey; I was not a law enforcement officer in the old days, nope. I’m good with guns, that’s one reason. Good with knives, too. They taught me that in the army, before the discharge and all. I had a tough time playing by the rules. My personal opinion in those days was that rules were the long way around for suckers; I preferred short cuts. I got to the places I wanted to be by working the angles, sort of out-thinking the other guy. A lot like a politician, Mr. Godfrey. In fact, I’ll bet, a lot like you.”
“I believe in rules, Ray. It’s not really civilization without structure. But, of course, you have to know the rules and use them to your advantage. That’s just the way of life. But if you get caught breaking the rules, well, that’s what prisons are for.”
“I concede your point there, yep. And I know exactly what you mean. You could say I have first-hand experience. So that got me thinking. Here we are in a brand new world and all those old rules have been blown away. Along comes Trevor Stone, and he’s building everything back up.”
“That he is, Ray. That he is. For better or worse.”
“I like to plan ahead, Mr. Godfrey. I can see a time where things will calm down. This war isn’t going to last forever, at least I sure hope not. We’ve got enough people here to start new, why risk it all by pushing and pushing? I’m not sure Stone knows when to stop.”
Godfrey nodded, cautiously, and answered, “I’m of the same mind. Why is it our job to save the world? We need to take care of our own.”
“Exactly. Of course, I’m more worried about taking care of my own. To be honest, I’m glad everything changed. The invasion, well, it sort of gave me a second chance. You might even say it released me. Better yet, I feel like I’m in on the ground floor of things. Like I said, I mainly didn’t like playing by the rules, unless I’m one of the gang writing those rules. If you see my point.”
“Yes, well, that creates certain opportunities, of course. We can put it back together, Ray. Maybe not exact, but better. That’s what I’m all about.”
“I’m thinking I can help you put things back together, Mr. Godfrey. Better this time; particularly in my own personal case, you understand.”
“I’m a firm believer,” Evan said, “that those who make the sacrifices for the betterment of the greater good should be given certain, um, leeway.”
“You’ll find that I’m quite willing to do things that some people shy away from. Call it, a sense of self-preservation.”
“None of us would have survived this long without that, Ray. I understand completely.”
“Good, I’m glad you do. Because dentist appointments and extra food rations are nice ‘thank yous’ for information here or the slip of a tongue there, but a man expects compensation based on the level of his, well, investment. I’m not an idiot, Mr. Godfrey. Not some muscle-head lackey. But I think you’ve figured that out by now.”
“Unmistakable, Ray.”
“Not as smart as you, mind you. You’ve got a leg up on me in that department. Part of being smart, you see, is knowing your limitations. By myself, well, not much I can accomplish. And you, Mr. Godfrey, by yourself, that silver tongue of yours can only go so far, too. Sooner or later the rubber meets the road. Think of that as my area of expertise. At the same time, it’s nice to know I’ve got someone in a high place watching my back.”
“Are you suggesting a partnership of some kind, Ray?”
“Partnership? No, not a partnership. That suggests equals. I know my place, Mr. Godfrey. I don’t see the big picture as well as you do, only my little part. Of course, I’m hoping my little part will be a big part some day. Not as big as yours, of course. But a few privileges here and there, some indulgences. That would be the pot of gold at the end of my rainbow.”
“Risk-reward. Sounds reasonable to me, Ray.”
“So let’s just call this a friendship. Let’s say that. You know, Evan, it always pays to have a friend in Internal Security. All that inside access…all that information…all sorts of friends in the military, and really close to the big brass. You never know how that might come in handy some day, as long as a person knows precisely when to play their trump card. And Mr. Godfrey, I am a very patient man. You get that way when you’ve served time. I can tell, you’re like that, too. Different reason, of course, but another way in which our friendship is certain to last.”
Evan admitted, “I suppose it never hurts to have a few more friends.”
Trevor Stone did not want to sit alone in his office any longer.
He stood and walked, almost stumbled, out the door to the second floor hall. Usually he might find Ashley or JB or even grandpa Benjamin Trump there. A few years prior, grandma Trump might be around but she had fallen victim to breast cancer.
This time he found no one. Grandpa Trump, Ashley, JB and nearly a platoon of security left the mansion to enjoy the nice weather with a picnic in a nearby park. Maybe some ‘normal’ relaxation would take Jorge’s-and Ashley’s-mind off the intruder. At least for while.
For Trevor, forgetting about his half-brother and the chilling answers he provided was easy, thanks to New Winnabow. Chasing away bad news with more bad news could do that trick.
As he descended the stairs, Trevor thought back to that first year after the Apocalypse.
Those were the days.
Yes, those were the days when the estate could have been wiped out by nothing more than a brigade of Hivvans or one Shadow. Their existence had been tenuous at best. Every day a struggle to survive; to fend off starvation or disease; to outfight some hostiles and outrun others.
Back then, he woke up every morning wondering if today would be the last day for humanity. Every morning he feared making the wrong decision as he juggled tactics between hiding and fighting, when to sacrifice and when to make a stand all the time wondering if he had the courage to lead.
Yet the question of right or wrong rarely entered in to the picture. He needed to hide from and then kill monsters and aliens to keep the flame of humanity from being extinguished. No gray area, no ambiguity. Humanity had been wronged and the responsibility to survive and avenge that wrong fell on his shoulders. Easy enough, if he were up to the task.
The gift of the estate gave him a redoubt from which to muster strength. The gift of memories provided the abilities and the confidence to charge forward. The dogs-regardless of the source of that gift-built the foundation of an army.
Failure remained his biggest worry, but not like before. No one force could snuff them out with a sudden blow. If failure came now, it would be a slow and agonizing retreat.
Trevor no longer wielded merely a carbine and a cadre of Grenadiers, he commanded an army. His power had grown exponentially and would need to grow further still to seize victory. With that expansion the lines of black and white merged and swirled into gray with only one shining light breaking through the murk, and that was the cause. The mission. His purpose.
That frightened him. He knew he could send his soldiers into New Winnabow. He knew he could justify the slaughter in the name of the great cause. What kind of man could make such a decision?
So yes, Trevor could order Shepherd to march in there, kill any opposition, and secure passage. He could do that.
And what would happen then?
Trevor doubted Shepherd would refuse the order no matter how much he might not like it, but what about Shepherd’s Captains? What about the rank and file? Would they refuse to kill other human beings? Would they refuse to fight despite their pledge of loyalty?
Maybe he should not attack New Winnabow for that reason alone. Losing the race to trap the Hivvans would be a severe blow; losing control of his army infinitely worse.
If he ordered the attack, New Winnabow would put up a fight and people-men and women-on both sides would die. How would The Baltimore New Press cover that story? Would the little ticker they had at the bottom of the page recording liberated humans subtract out those murdered in the Emperor’s name?
As he reached the bottom of the stairs he heard a familiar voice and it brought a smile to his face. Trevor followed the sound of that voice into what had once been a dining room but now served as Lori Brewer’s office. He walked in as she finished a phone call.
“Right, have them meet me there. From what I hear, Wilmington isn’t in as bad a shape as Raleigh was but we need to move fast. Right. Goodbye.”
She hung up the phone.
“Hey,” Lori said.
“How are you doing?”
“Considering my husband is a couple of thousand of miles away marching across a polar ice cap, I think I’m holding up okay. Of course, that’s assuming they made it to the sub and that the sub made it to Greenland.”
She did not need to add you sent him there. Trevor heard that clear enough.
Lori shuffled papers, discarding some while shoving others into a leather messenger bag.
“So, ah, what’s going on?” Trevor tried to strike up a conversation.
“Well, let’s see. I’ve got to catch a shuttle to Philadelphia then from there to Baltimore then…well, you get the idea. If things go well I’ll be in Raleigh late tonight and Wilmington in the morning.”
“Assessment?”
“Yes, assessment. Lots of civilians, some orphaned kids, there’s a rail link that would be useful, lots of empty housing. The normal stuff and with the mess Raleigh is in I need to go see for myself.”
“Oh. Yeah. I understand.”
Lori stood and slung the bag over her shoulder.
“I have to go and talk to the housekeeper about Catherine and make sure she has everything. I swear, I’m taking care of the needs of tens of thousands of people and I can’t even take care of my own kid without going completely mental.”
She walked to the door, stopped, and asked, “I’m sorry, did you need me for something?”
Trevor considered for a moment, shook his head, and told her, “No. I’m good. Have a safe trip.”
22. Sincerest Form
Denise raised the pistol and took aim; the gun trembled in her grip. When she finally tugged the trigger, the barrel jumped, sending the bullet out to sea several feet above the tin can target on the banister.
“Urrg, I suck at this,” she grumbled.
Denise stood in front of Nina on a dock outside of Wrightsville Beach with old cans lined up on a railing. Both women had grown accustomed to the strong salty scent from the marshes as well as the constant sound of hungry seagulls cawing for food. No doubt the birds missed the pretzel pieces and lost French fries from the days when tourists roamed the seaside resort.
“So in the last five years no one ever taught you how to use a gun?”
“For the tenth time, no.”
Nina shook her head, amazed at such an oversight given the nature of the world.
“Okay then. Relax, that’s only your third shot. Try again but-” Nina quickly grabbed the gun as the young girl held the weapon in a haphazard manner. “Hey, watch where you’re pointing that thing.”
“Yeah, right.”
“No, watch where you’re pointing that thing,” Nina said in a harsh, commander’s tone.
“Geez, relax, no biggy.”
“Stop. Stop right now,” Nina pulled the pistol away from Denise.
“What?”
“Look, you need to get your head on straight for this.”
“Awe, c’mon, relax.”
Nina popped the clip from the Glock automatic, opened the slide to empty the chambered round, and held the bullet between two fingers.
“Come here.”
“What?” Denise removed orange plugs from her ears.
“This is a bullet. Feel it.” Nina pressed it hard into Denise’s chest.
“Hey, ouch.”
“Now imagine this bullet moving over a thousand feet per second,” Nina said.
“Look, geez, I get it, okay? I’ll be careful.”
“No, you don’t get it. Do you know how a bullet kills people?”
Denise slapped her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes, but as Nina spoke, the young girls’ demeanor switched from annoyed to horrified.
“It isn’t pretty, understand? It doesn’t disappear and you fall over dead like in some dumb movie. It punctures through your skin and starts tearing shit up inside. Not some clean little hole,” Nina poked Denise in the stomach. “It pierces organs and rips up your guts and tears open arteries. Blood and worse starts pouring out. Your whole insides are like a zip-lock bag of water that just got a hole punched in it. Hell, with a lucky shot maybe your stomach acids start pouring all over your intestines. Maybe a lung gets punctured and you drown on your own blood from the inside.”
The little girl squirmed.
“Understand something, Denise, just because this piss-poor new world means you got to live with guns everyday, it doesn’t mean you can treat guns like an everyday thing. Understand?”
“Um…”
“Once that trigger is pulled, that bullet is going somewhere. If that barrel is pointing at me, or your foot or someone standing across the parking lot then they’re going to get hurt. Real bad. And guess what? You can’t take it back. You can’t say ‘I’m sorry.’ Once that shot is fired it’s going to do what it’s going to do and there are no second chances.”
Denise stood silent.
“Do you understand now?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Do you?”
Denise spoke clearly, “Yes.”
Nina threw an arm around the girl.
“I’m just saying, I don’t want anything to happen to you.
That’s all.”
“I know,” she said.
“Now c’mon, let’s squeeze off a few more rounds there, Annie Oakley.”
Denise asked, “Who is Annie Oakley?”
Nina thought for a second, shrugged, and answered, “I don’t have a clue.”
Jim Brock’s voice took them by surprise with a sudden and not particularly friendly, “Hey!”
As he jogged toward them Nina said, “I thought you were taking the kids to scavenge up some winter clothes?”
He slowed to a walk and asked, “What’s…um…what’s going on?”
“Nina is showing me how to shoot,” Denise answered the question.
“Shoot? Nina, could I talk to you for a sec?”
“Sure, Jim,” Nina smiled politely although she easily saw the wary look in his eye.
Nina made sure the gun was completely empty and then returned it to Denise.
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Practice your grip,” Nina instructed.
Denise considered then, in fact, practiced her grip by pointing the weapon down range, probably seeing Mutants and Deadheads instead of old soup cans.
Jim and Nina walked along the dock. He held his words until out of Denise’s earshot.
“Nina, I mean, I don’t know about this gun thing.”
“Yeah, I know. I take it today is the first time anyone let Denise hold a gun? Didn’t you guys have any all these years?”
“There were some folks here in Wrightsville Beach that used them, sure. Not me. Me and the kids, we got along by hiding. But, I mean, that’s not my point. Like, I understand that shooting things is, well, kind of necessary these days. Hey, you don’t have to explain to me, I know things are different.”
“But..?” Nina led.
“But she’s just eleven. She doesn’t even know how to drive yet.”
Nina nodded and told him, “I see your point. We’d better teach her to drive, too.”
“I’m serious, Nina.”
“So am I,” she countered as her brow furled. “You’re going to wait until she’s sixteen to teach her to drive? There aren’t any licenses anymore. Driving might just save her life someday. The gun even more so.”
Empire ba-2 Page 33
