by Ryan King
Unfortunately, there was work to do and he couldn't rest.
An aide opened the door quietly, knowing better than to knock when he was having one of his episodes. The aide glanced in nervously and said in a voice slightly above a whisper, "Sir, General Vincent Lacert is here."
Ethan just waved his hand for the aide to show Vincent in. A moment later the general strode in and without leave helped himself to a glass of expensive Scotch and plopped down into a chair, swinging one leg over the arm.
"Do you know why I called you here?" asked Ethan, looking at him with pain filled eyes.
Vincent swirled his scotch and didn't bother to look at the president. "Reckon I do."
Alarm bells caused the fog of pain to lift from Ethan for a moment.When did he stop calling me sir, or president, or boss? He has become too sure of his place. A man like this is a viper that must be watched.
"Well," said Ethan forcing himself to sit up straight, "how did it happen?"
Vincent chuckled and took a sip of his drink. "Fairly easy for them actually. They just walked right in. Planted explosives, blew up the arena, and walked away."
"How many dead?" asked Ethan.
Vincent shrugged. "I haven't been keeping up with it, but I think I heard eighty-six at the last count. More likely to die from injuries as time goes by."
"Damn it," Ethan shook his head.
Vincent smiled wryly at him. "I didn't know you were so fond of college students."
"I'm fond of stability," Ethan answered. "Stability is what allows us to do what we want. What happened at Murray State is not good. Besides, we needed that oil refinery and the gunpowder."
"We'll take what we need from someone," said Vincent looking bored.
"How long do you think that will last?" asked Ethan. "We need to produce and build. Everything else just buys us time."
"Sure would be nice to have a hydroelectric dam," said Vincent while cutting his eyes at Ethan.
"No," said Ethan. "We deal with Paducah. Besides, I've got something planned for the dam."
"Mind letting me in on it, boss?" said Vincent.
Ethan smiled inwardly.There it is. He doesn't like secrets. "I don't think so," said Ethan. "It's best if only I know."
Vincent frowned and swung his leg onto the floor to face Ethan. "You know I can't help you if you don't talk to me. I want that dam as much as you do."
"You can't help with this," said Ethan slowly. "Besides, what makes you think I want the dam?"
The general stared at him as if Ethan had lost his mind. "Why wouldn't you? An inexhaustible source of electricity. The only one we know of left in the whole damn world. What, that not good enough for you? You want a freaking space station or giant submarine or something?"
"That dam," said Ethan deliberately, "has been nothing but a source of weakness for us and strength for our enemies."
"But in our hands, think what it could do."
"Electricity for everyone? Just like before?" Ethan shook his head. "That dam is dangerous. It allows people to believe that everything is like it was before. It allows them to fool themselves into thinking that they can live in a civilized manner. The truth is we are a lifeboat in a lake of fire."
"So what do you want me to do?" asked Vincent. "Go destroy the dam."
"No," snapped Ethan. "If I wanted that I would have told you to go do it."
Vincent sighed and threw a leg back over the chair. "Got it. I'll just sit here and enjoy your whiskey while you figure out what you want."
Ethan gritted his teeth to hold back an angry retort. "What I want is for you to clamp down."
"Clamp down?"
"Yes. On everything. We can't let what happened at Murray happen again. Anywhere."
"But we already have martial law," said Vincent. "What more do you want?"
"Be imaginative," said Ethan. "Take away whatever liberties, do whatever searches or home invasions you need to do."
"But I'm getting ready to attack Paducah," Vincent protested. "You want me to pull troops and resources to go digging through people's homes? Why?"
"Because we need the people's support," said Ethan.
Vincent shook his head. "You have a funny way of getting it. The sorts of things you are proposing won't make people happy."
"People don't care about being happy," said Ethan, "not deep down. What they want is to feel safe."
"And taking away their rights and screwing with them is going to make them feel safe?" asked Vincent. "I'm not against it, mind you, just not sure taking away people's liberties will get your desired results, that's all."
"Trust me," said Ethan. "I've seen it time and time again all over the world. When given the choice between liberty and security, people always choose security."
"But what's the point?" asked Vincent. "You think we're going to catch people? Terrorist in every closet type of thing?"
"This is not necessarily about stopping attacks," explained Ethan, "although it may surprise you by its success. What this is primarily about is reassuring the people. Letting them know we can keep them safe. Encourage them to report anything out of the ordinary."
Vincent shook his head. "You're paying a high cost to make people feel safe. We don't have an overabundance of troops and doing what you want is going to pull a passel away from the attack on Paducah."
"Can you still succeed?" asked Ethan. "Even diverting some for security?"
Vincent didn't answer for a moment. He swirled his drink and took a sip and then looked at the ceiling. Finally he faced Ethan. "Yeah, I can still do it. Might take a little longer to subdue Paducah. We might suffer more casualties, but I can do it."
"Good," said Ethan closing his eyes. "Now if you don't mind close the door on your way out." After a moment he realized that Vincent hadn't moved. He opened his eyes to see the man's piercing blue eyes regarding him carefully.
"You sure you're all right, boss," he said kindly. "You don't look so good, if you don't mind me saying so. You know I can handle things if you want to take a vacation or anything."
Ethan actually did smile now. "That is very kind of you, but I'm just fine. Only a slight headache, which will be gone soon enough."
Vincent downed his Scotch and slammed the glass down harder than was necessary.
Ethan winced at the noise and saw that Vincent had seen it.He did that on purpose, thought Ethan.
"Got it," said Vincent walking toward the door. "I'll check on you before I go."
And I'll be checking on you, thought Ethan.
Chapter 9 - Chester
Nathan gave up on motorcycles after their third crash. As much as he wanted to blame it on Jack's inability to sit still behind him, the roads were getting dangerously icy. When Joshua on the other motorcycle slid under a truck and got knocked off the bike, Nathan's heart leaped with concern for his son, fortunately the young man was only stunned.
Larger vehicles came with their own problems. Nathan and Joshua would occasionally find a working vehicle, but most of the time could only drive it a few miles before encountering a tangle of cars that the bikes might have slipped through. Not so for larger transportation. When this happened, they gathered their gear, left the warm interior of their current automobile and walked to far side of the jam. Once there, they began checking for standard transmission vehicles, since all the batteries were long dead after nearly a year and half of sitting idle.
Nathan and Joshua would end up pushing while Jack sat behind the wheel and encouraged them with yells of, "Harder, you lazy dogs!" or "You men today don't know how to work!" or simply "Mush, mush."
Finally, Jack would release the clutch and most times the vehicle started. Then they hopped in, cranked up the heater and drove a few miles before having to repeat the process.
Most nights were spent in those vehicles, savoring the trapped heat until morning. Fuel was always a concern and frequently if they found a working vehicle, they had to siphon gasoline from other jumbled vehicles in the interior of the piles as
those on the periphery were always dry. Signs of others before them doing the same were evident.
Thankfully food was not a problem. Jack noted that the last few years' game had become much more abundant with fewer people. The old man was never quiet, consistently annoying, and even Nathan was forced to admit he was a master at hunting and trapping. Rarely did they go hungry even if their diet was monotonous.
Making their way north generally parallel to the Mississippi River, Nathan looked for a good place to turn east and cross over the wide water. Initially, he wanted to get further from Kentucky before trying to go around. Now he was only looking for a good place to cross. There were bridges aplenty adjacent to large towns or cities. Remembering his trek from Maryland, he knew where people were gathered there would be trouble. Strangers were either feared and killed, or looked upon as prey and then robbed, raped, tortured, andthen killed.
They shied away from towns.
Nathan stopped at an isolated four-way intersection. "Let me see the map," he said to Joshua.
"We need to keep going north," Jack said helpfully from the back.
"Till when?" asked Nathan. "Canada? We keep going north we're likely to run into Saint Louis and then we'll be in a world of hurt."
"Saint Louie could be fine," said Jack. "Went there back when my first son was young. Fine city."
"What was that, fifty years ago?" said Nathan peering at the map again.
Taking the opportunity to speak while the old man conducted higher math in the back, Joshua traced a line with his finger. "We go straight and it leads up here to I-55. We're running out of room everything starts funneling into I-55 and Saint Louis."
"Forty-six years ago," said Jack from behind them in triumph.
"To the left of us is the town of Perryville. If we go right," continued Joshua tracing a line, "it leads to the river."
"A bridge?" asked Nathan.
"Probably," answered Joshua. "The map shows a road crossing over into Illinois and the town of Chester."
Nathan stared at the map hard. "Dumps us right into a town. Any other options up ahead?"
"Not that I can see," said Joshua. "This map only shows the major roads, so there could be a smaller bridge somewhere, but we'd have to go hunting for it. According to the map, this is the last bridge before we get close to Saint Louis."
Nathan wished again they could find a boat. They had wasted precious hours and even gotten shot at once in that fruitless endeavor though. He looked his son in the eye who just nodded. Nathan glanced back at Jack in the rearview mirror. "What do you think, Jack?"
"I think I'm gettin' hungry," Jack answered and then started to dig into their leftover rabbit.
"We're all in agreement then," said Nathan, turning right.
They traveled between snow-covered trees occasionally broken by the odd home or house trailer. Each of these appeared deserted, although Nathan knew from experience some surely held people, too afraid to start a fire in the day for the smoke that would give them away. The road was oddly open, with several cars off in the ditches on each side as if someone had cleared the way.
Within an hour they could see the Mississippi River to their right. Flat chunks of ice drifted south along with the occasional tree limb or debris. The road itself led to another four-way stop, but they could see the bridge to their right. Nathan turned without hesitation.
He could tell the bridge was old. Composed like the frame of a steel cage, the bridge led out over the water supported by two concrete pillars near each end. Although several of the railings were missing due to what looked like cars going over the edge at some point, the span appeared relatively stable.
As they approached, they could see that it would be impossible to get the station wagon they were currently driving across the bridge. Both lanes were blocked, although it appeared there was a four foot wide space down the middle.
"Someone had to have done that," said Joshua suddenly.
Nathan nodded, weaving the car between dead vehicles and then stopped near the edge of the bridge. He gazed at the metal span and the edge of the town of Chester on the far side for a long silent moment.
"I know you don't like it," said Jack from the back, "but it's our best choice unless you want to stay in Missouri."
Jack's words got Nathan moving. He needed to get back to Bethany and their unborn child. Turning off the car's engine he opened the door and then went around to the rear hatch to gather his pack and weapons. The others followed suit.
Nathan led the way with Joshua behind him and Jack bringing up the rear, his pump shotgun resting across one forearm. They walked by vehicles that were thankfully empty of corpses, though oddly marked by spray painted graffiti and pictures. Purple skulls and giant red penises stared at them as they read messages of,I screwed your mutha, Let the bombs drop, Eat my shit biotch, andVipers Rulz! This last was accompanied by a cartoonish worm that Nathan resumed was supposed to represent a serpent.
"Kids today," muttered Jack behind them. "No respect for property."
"Shiss," hissed Nathan peering ahead. Other than the cold wind whipping off the river, it was eerily quiet.
As they drew closer to the far edge of the bridge, the town of Chester became clearer. Nathan looked hard, but couldn't pick out a single window that hadn't been shattered. Dozens of buildings and homes had been burned. He looked up into the sky and didn't see any circling scavengers indicating the carnage had happened recently.
Nathan stepped off the far end of the bridge expecting something to happen, but the town remained silent. He walked east on the road that appeared to lead most quickly through the town. This happened to coincide with traveling through the center of the rundown business area. Broken storefront windows opened into looted interiors. Empty beer and alcohol bottles littered the street along with spray-painted and defaced manikins.
"Too quiet," whispered Joshua beside him. "Not even a barking dog."
Nathan led them out of the middle of the street and onto a sidewalk. Without realizing it, he quickened his step. They walked past what appeared to be a city hall covered in obscene graffiti. An odd assortment of motorcycles parked out front. Nathan thought he saw the severed head of a woman mounted on the handlebars of one racing bike.
"Those have been used recently," said Joshua. "We're not alone."
"I suggest we pick up the pace, boys," said Jack from behind them.
They moved quickly and Nathan took the first opportunity to turn onto a side street away from the city hall. He kept his assault rifle at the ready position in front of him as he tried to look everywhere at once, the skin on the back of his neck crawling.
After perhaps an hour, they were nearing the far edge of the town and Nathan was beginning to relax. He saw where the road opened back up and even spotted a few vehicles they might be able to use.
He heard a curious whistle from a high window in one of the buildings nearby. It repeated again and then was answered further away.
"There's no birds around here," said Jack.
"Run," said Nathan taking off at a jog. He wanted to get clear of the confines of the town where he felt trapped. If they could find a defensive position, or even open fields, then they might be able to pick anyone off who tried to approach them.
More insistent and frequent whistles behind them. Soon they could hear actual shouts followed the unmistakable roar of motorcycles starting.
"This ain't good," said Jack huffing loudly as he tried to run.
"Don't I know it," said Nathan looking back over his shoulder as they emerged onto an open road flanked by wide fields. He ran to a cluster of abandoned cars heaped together by the side of the road before turning and taking a fighting position over the hood of an old Toyota sedan. Joshua and Jack assumed similar defensive postures nearby.
They heard the roars of motorcycles accompanied by inhuman howls.
"Get ready," said Nathan. "I'll fire first. Joshua, you support me. Jack, you take anyone that gets close or behind us with the
shotgun."
The deep roar of Harley-Davidson motorcycles mixed with the high metallic whine of racing bikes produced a crescendo of disharmony that grew in intensity. Nathan was so surprised by what he saw that he nearly forgot to fire.
A red Japanese speed bike slalomed around a corner. On it saw a man with his head shaved up to a bright orange Mohawk that stood off of his head in stiff spikes. His face was painted in garish lime green and pink and despite the freezing cold he was bare-chested. He guided the bike with one hand while the other brandished a crowbar. He spotted Nathan behind the car hood and grinned gleefully, aiming his motorcycle directly at them and putting on speed.
The man just opened his mouth to scream again when Nathan shot him in the chest, knocking him backward off the motorcycle. The bike itself continued in its trajectory and struck the other side of the Toyota with a deafening crash. Nathan ducked just as the bike flipped over the hood and smashed into a loud heap behind them, its engine still racing.
Joshua took a shot to Nathan's right and he looked up to see about a dozen bikers, all dressed and adorned like the first man, come racing down the road.
Nathan took aim and fired again, hitting a teenage boy in the face. Joshua fired again and missed. The group was now past them throwing hammers and axes at them and even occasionally shooting at them. The horde of multicolored motorcyclists stopped about a quarter mile away and turned facing them again. There they stopped and appeared to have a conference.
"Shoot 'em if you can," Nathan told Joshua knowing how good a marksman he was.
Joshua didn't respond, only exhaled and held his breath as his finger tightened on the trigger.
Nathan looked toward the group and saw a man slump over as Joshua fired. This seemed to spur them on to action as they all revved their bikes and came at them again.
They took down four more before the group raced past again.
