***
Ben escorted Mike back to his cell. It took him twice as long to go anywhere because of the chains. All he could do was shuffle down the halls, and each time he moved his feet the steel would cut deeper into his skin.
“Want to explain what all that was about?” Ben asked.
Mike didn’t answer. They made it to his cell and Ben dropped him off, undoing his shackles. The steel door clanked shut. There was a small opening in the middle of the door for meals to slide in and out. Ben opened it, so Mike could hear him speak.
“Let me help you,” Ben said.
Mike sat down on the edge of the cot, rubbing his hands and wrists. He kept his head down, looking at his feet.
“Make sure I don’t see him again,” Mike said.
The moment Ben slid the food hatch closed Mike’s hands started to shake. The pain stopped coming and going weeks ago. They just hurt all of the time now.
He just wanted it to be over. He’d tried before, but he couldn’t stop the will to live. He needed someone else to do it for him. That’s what he wanted to find here. That’s why he turned himself in.
He stroked his beard slowly. It was thick, and matted. He ran his shaking fingers through the tangled knots. He lay down on the cot, resting his head on the flat pillow. The springs of the bed squeaked as he shifted trying to find a comfortable spot.
He didn’t try closing his eyes. It wouldn’t have made a difference if he did. He couldn’t fall asleep anymore, and the rare moments when exhaustion finally caught up with him he didn’t stay asleep long. There were always bloody faces to wake him up in the night.
Chapter 12: Day 26 Cincinnati
Mike hadn’t been able to leave the hospital for almost twenty-four hours. The straps around his feet and hands were driving him mad. His visit from Wyatt didn’t provide him any answers, but then again he wasn’t able to stay awake for very long to speak to him.
Now that Mike was awake, he couldn’t sit still. The nurses came and checked on him periodically. The faint, random screams of other patients echoing through the halls outside his door were starting to get to him.
Finally, later in the evening, a pair of soldiers came and escorted him out of the hospital. They returned the clothes he was wearing when he was captured, but not his weapon.
The majority of this part of the city was wrecked. Buildings were crumbled; trash and smoldering fires occupied the streets. It wasn’t a city in the United States he was looking at—it was something he would see on CNN from a third-world country. Whatever beating Bram and his soldiers gave them, it seemed to be effective.
Mike was brought to a small building farther south of the river, which he got a good look at from one of the streets that led to the bridge, or at least where the bridge used to be. There was a humming coming from behind the building. It sounded familiar, but Mike couldn’t put his finger on it.
“What is that?” Mike asked. “That noise?”
“Generator.”
“You have power running here?”
“Move.”
They waited outside the door of an office. Mike could hear some mumbling on the other side and when he was let in there was a group of three men. Two were dressed in military uniforms, and the other was Dr. Wyatt, who was also the only one that smiled.
“Gentlemen, this is the soldier we captured from across the river,” Wyatt said.
One of the men leaned into Wyatt’s ear, and Wyatt waved him off.
“We’ll let you two get to it then,” the man said.
The two men exited leaving Wyatt and Mike alone. There was a single table in the room, and on top of it was a massive map covered in small figures.
“I hope you’re feeling better?” Wyatt asked.
“Head still hurts.”
“Mine too.”
Mike kept glancing down at the map, and around the room. The whole place was run-down. The one lamp they had in the room was flickering, struggling to perform its simple task of lighting the space.
“It doesn’t look like much, but we make do,” Dr. Wyatt said. “Have you had an opportunity to eat?”
“No.”
“Here, we still have some sandwiches from lunch.”
Dr. Wyatt pulled a tray off a chair in the corner and extended it to Mike. He took one hesitantly.
“I guess the easiest way to start this is asking how much you know about us?” Dr. Wyatt asked.
“Besides learning your entire military strategy?” Mike asked, looking at the map.
“Yes, besides that.”
“Why did you bring me here?”
“Because you’re the first soldier that we’ve been able to capture since all of this started.”
“I’m the first?”
“Yes, all of the others killed themselves, but not you, which makes me think that you actually value your life. And someone that values their life tends to value the lives of others.”
“In my experience it’s usually the opposite.”
“Sadly, these days you’re probably right.”
Dr. Wyatt picked up a few of the pieces on the map then set them back down. From the position of the figures on the table it looked like Dr. Wyatt and his side were on their heels.
Mike took a bite of the sandwich. By the taste of it they were scraping the bottom of their food rations.
“Have you spoken to Bram?” Dr. Wyatt asked.
“I have.”
“Then I need you to tell me everything he’s doing. How many men he has, when he’s planning on his next attack.”
“And just why should I trust you?”
“Because you’re still alive.”
“And I suppose I have you to thank for that?”
“No, not me. Every man and woman on this side of the river.”
Mike swallowed the last piece of bread.
“Let’s take a walk,” Wyatt said.
Dr. Wyatt led Mike through streets and buildings of what was left of their side of the city. The farther away from the river they walked, the less damage there was. The ordnance that hit the city was powerful, but had a limited range.
The power from the other side of the river didn’t seem to be trickling over. A few places had generators, but most buildings were still dark.
The only vehicles that were working were those that had some sort of military application.
“Bram’s powerful, and he knows it. And his reach is far because he feeds on the ambition of other people,” Dr. Wyatt said.
“Sounds like a politician.”
“Yes, in a matter of speaking he is,” Dr. Wyatt said, his face turning a little more grave. “And he’s a very good one.”
They walked for another hour, talking about what each of them did before the blackout. They spoke of family, friends. Mike never opened up to people outside of his family, but he found himself unable to keep his mouth shut.
Dr. Wyatt stopped in front of a small building. It hadn’t been touched by the bombings, but was old, and derelict. Mike watched him stand there in silence, examining what was left of the ancient structure.
“Four walls and a roof,” Dr. Wyatt said. “But it doesn’t have its beating heart.”
“The building is only as good as the men that occupy it,” Mike said.
“When the power shut off I’d never seen people in such a state. I watched humans devolve right in front of my eyes.”
Mike thought back to Jung and the blind will of survival that made him forsake everything he believed in.
“Men who don’t have a value in their own lives, can’t see the value in others,” Mike said.
Dr. Wyatt smiled.
“That man you were fighting for, he’s not who you think he is,” Dr. Wyatt said.
“I wasn’t fighting for him,” Mike answered.
“I wouldn’t ask anything of you that I wouldn’t do myself.”
“What do you need, Quinn?”
“I’m going to give you something. I give it to every man I’ve sp
oken with since the blackout. After you read it, I’ll know which side you’re on.”
Dr. Wyatt pulled a small journal out of his pocket and handed it to Mike.
“Come find me when you’re done,” Dr. Wyatt said.
***
Kalen was crouched behind a building in an alleyway, waiting for the guards to disappear. She’d been squatting there for over an hour and her knees were aching. When the guards finally disappeared for their shift switch she almost fell over from getting up too fast. Her knees popped and cracked as she ran for the door.
When she made it inside she rushed to the back and hid between two aisles. She’d been waiting to get inside the armory supply since she got back from the bridge.
Once she was sure the coast was clear she started stuffing ammo, pistols, magazines, grenades, anything she thought would help her, into the duffle bag she brought. The last weapon she grabbed was an AR-15 that she slung over her shoulder.
Kalen snuck out of a window on the side of a building and landed in an alleyway behind a dumpster. She started heading to the back when someone covered her mouth from behind.
“Shh,” Sam said.
Sam grabbed the bag from her and opened it up. He sifted through the contents and threw it in the dumpster.
“Hey!” Kalen cried.
“What are you thinking?” Sam asked.
“My father’s alive.”
“And how were you planning on getting him? Going to swim across the Ohio River with all that gear dragging you down?”
Kalen slammed her back against the wall of the building and slid down.
Sam let out a sigh and joined her on the ground. He put her arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder.
“From what I’ve seen your dad is one tough bastard. If he is alive, then he’ll find a way back, but for now you have to do the hardest thing anyone in your position can do,” Sam said.
“Which is?”
“Wait.”
She knew he was right. Her mind went back to all of those nights when she was out late with friends. Her dad was always up when she made it home, no matter what time it was. His face always had the same look each time. It would be relieved and then, depending on how late it was, upset.
Kalen couldn’t imagine the thoughts that went through her father’s mind during those nights, waiting for her to come home. She couldn’t comprehend the worry when he was separated from his family for almost a week as he trekked from Pittsburgh all the way to their cabin in Carrollton.
She had caused more stress in her father’s life than anyone she knew. And now she was sitting on the other end of it.
“I’m afraid I won’t see him again,” Kalen said.
“You will.”
Sam helped her off the ground and walked back with her to the hotel where her mother was waiting for her.
Anne squeezed Kalen tight.
“What were you thinking?” Anne asked.
“That I had to do something.”
Anne shook her head.
“Stubborn like your father.”
“Have you heard anything yet?”
“No, whatever they’re planning on doing isn’t a rescue mission. They’re acting like he’s—”
“Where’s Freddy?” Kalen asked.
“He’s down in your guys’ room. He won’t let anyone in,” Anne said.
Kalen knocked on the door, but Freddy didn’t answer. She jiggled the handle and tried pushing the door open, but something was blocking it.
“Freddy?” Kalen asked.
She pushed hard, muscling the door open. Freddy had moved the dresser haphazardly into the small foyer in the room.
There was a fort in the corner. Kalen flipped up one of the sheets and Freddy was tucked in a ball. He clutched the watch that Mike had given him in his hand.
“Hey, bud,” Kalen said.
He didn’t say anything as she crawled inside. She sat down next to him and he cuddled up into her lap. Kalen stroked the back of his head and his body started to shiver.
“Is Dad dead?” Freddy asked.
“No, he’s not dead.”
“Then where is he? Why hasn’t he come back?”
“You know Dad. He has to make sure everyone’s safe. That’s what he’s doing. Keeping us safe.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so.”
Kalen kissed the top of his head. She pulled the pocket watch from his hands and held it out in front of the both of them to see. It spun from the silver chain, twirling around and around.
“Is this the one that belonged to Grandpa?” Kalen asked.
“Yeah, Dad gave it to me when we were still at the cabin.”
“You’ve been keeping it in good shape?”
“Yup. I found some silver polish at school and cleaned it the other day.”
“Dad will be proud you’re taking good care of it.”
“When will he come back?”
“As soon as he can.”
Kalen handed the watch back to her brother, then wrapped her arms around him. When she looked up through the opening in the sheets her mother was standing in the room, watching both of them.
Anne got down on her knees and entered the small fort with her children. The three of them curled up together under the sagging sheets.
***
Mike closed the journal and set it on the nightstand next to the bed he was lying on. Everything he’d just read was racing through his mind: the Senate hearing, Bram’s partnership with Dr. Wyatt, the EMP device, the missile launches.
Mike shoved the journal back into his pocket. He found Wyatt in his room, reading by the glow of a single light next to his chair.
“When did you find out?” Mike asked.
“When did I find out what Bram was really planning on doing? When it was too late. I tried stopping him, but at that point everything was already in motion. Most of his men didn’t realize what was going to happen either, and a few of them joined me here in Cincinnati where we knew he would gather. We knew he had one of his major facilities here and it was close enough to his other resources to stage a formidable stand for a coup against Washington.”
“That’s why you blew up the bridge.”
“He already has men stationed in Columbus and Indianapolis. He’s been recruiting men since the power’s gone out to join his… cause. If he connects with his units in Nashville and Charlotte then he’ll be able to essentially divide the country in two with no organized forces to stop him.”
Mike sat down on the arm of the only other chair in the room. He lost his legs. During the entire time he was reading that journal he could think of only one thing: He left his family with that madman.
“What’s his play?” Mike asked.
“He’s manufacturing missiles at his factory here in Cincinnati. In Nashville they’re manufacturing the guidance chips. They’re planning on meeting in Lexington where there is a military base with launch capabilities. He already has men there preparing for both parties to arrive. I know their original timeline was to have everything up and running a week from now, but with the bridge gone I don’t know how long we’ve stalled him. I also don’t know how long it’ll be before his forces from the south make it up here to press us on both fronts.”
“How do we stop him?”
“We don’t need to take out all of the components of his plan; just one of them will cripple everything. We’ve been repairing boats in preparation for blowing up the bridge. We have enough to get everyone across, but we have no way of locating the factory or an understanding of their security structure.”
“That's why you captured me.”
“Yes.”
Mike wasn’t sure if he could trust Wyatt or not. For all he knew this guy was playing him too.
“Why should I believe you and your journal?” Mike asked.
“Because there is enough evidence in that journal to put me away for a very long time. Usually, bad guys don’t incriminate thems
elves like that to the people around them.”
No Power: EMP Post Apocalyptic Fiction Thriller Super Boxset Page 147
