by Reed, N. C.
“Want to go down and see it?” Adcock asked.
Clay did not, in fact, want to go. He wanted to go home and pretend that since this idiot had killed himself, the whole thing was finished. But that odd message had come from somewhere.
“We'll follow you down,” he said finally. “I'd like for some of our people to get a look at Lewiston, even if it's through a window. We've got our own ride,” he said evenly.
“I've heard,” Adcock snorted. “We'll wait at the off ramp.”
“We won't be long.”
-
“X! Saddle up!” Tandi called. “You too, Zach. We're headed to Lewiston to see about that Worthy idiot on the radio. Assemble on the pad. Ten minutes!”
“Well,” Xavier turned to his two female students. “I'm afraid we'll have to continue this another time, ladies. If you will excuse us?”
“Hey, can we go?” Amanda asked suddenly.
“Yeah!” Kim nodded.
“Ah, I'm afraid Clayton makes those decisions, ladies,” Xavier told them. “You can, however, ask him. All he can do is say no. I suggest you be in full gear and ready to roll when you ask.”
“Cool!”
-
“Why?” Clay asked, looking at the two women, both of whom looked for all the world like freshman girls about to start high school.
“Why not?” Amanda shrugged. “We went through all this training. Still going through it, in fact. We'd like to do more.”
“And you?” he looked at Kim Powers.
“I would like to go, assuming you have room,” she nodded. “I promise I'll do what I'm told.”
As Clay considered that, Corey and Zach walked by, loading into the Cougar they had named Phantom. Zach immediately climbed into the turret, checking the big M2 machine gun before settling in for the ride. Corey stored his own gear behind the driver's seat and slid behind the wheel, checking the vehicle gauges. Clay spared a few seconds to watch them, noting that both young men now had the attitude and economy of movement that most combat veterans developed after a while. He reminded himself that he was their age on his first trip into Afghanistan. They were no more children now than he had been then.
“You called me?” Vicki Tully broke into his thoughts, and Clay turned to see the short trooper standing behind him, geared up.
“Road trip,” he said simply. “We're going to Lewiston. Climb in.”
“Got it,” she nodded and did as ordered. Clay turned back to the two young women behind him.
“You do exactly what you're told, every time you're told, no matter what it is,” he ordered. “That includes Zach and Corey. Both are veterans at this point and know what has to be done. If you don't, and you survive whatever might happen, then you won't be doing anything else like this. Understand?”
“Yes, sir!” both women snapped at once.
“First thing to do is forget that 'sir' crap,” he fought the urge to snap. “We don't do anything like that in the field. Ever. Get aboard and store your gear.” Excited smiles plastered across their faces, Amanda and Kim both clambered aboard. Vicki helped them get situated as Tandi placed his medic bag in storage behind the passenger seat. Zach had dismounted to check the storage areas outside while Corey did the same inside. Clay never had to order any of it done, they just knew to do it, and did it.
“Like it should be,” he told himself. He turned to see Jose Juarez walking toward him.
“Road trip?” he asked, looking at the big MRAP.
“They found the zealot in Lewiston,” Clay nodded. “Offed himself as soon as Bronson opened his tent. We also intercepted a message burst which Deuce managed to decode. The timing is pretty close. We're going with Adcock to get a look at the gear and see if we can identify it as the same set that sent that message.”
“That's a slim bet,” Jose frowned.
“Tandi says if the equipment isn't damaged too badly, it can be done,” Clay shrugged. “Leon agreed with him. We'll see, I guess. You're in charge.”
“Great,” Jose replied sarcastically. Before he could say more, Greg Holloway arrived, geared up to travel.
“You sent for me, on great bwana?” Greg smiled.
“Going to Lewiston, brief you on the way,” Clay pointed to the Cougar. “Get aboard.”
“Awesome.” Greg climbed in, leaving Clay and Jose standing on the pad again.
“We'll be back as soon as we can,” Clay told his second. “If we're too late, we may stay the night, but I don't want to. So long as we don't see any threats on the way down, we'll come back tonight, even in the dark.”
“We'll be watching,” Jose promised. “Drive safely!”
Laughing, Clay climbed into the passenger seat up front and nodded at Corey. The big Cougar moved slowly down the drive and then out onto the road, headed for the interstate.
-
“What does ‘emrap’ mean?” Kim asked the group in general. They were almost to the interstate.
“It's an acronym,” Zach replied absently, looking out the window. “Mine Resistant Ambush Protected vehicle.”
“Why do we have one?” Amanda asked.
“We have several,” Tandi informed her. “Some we bought before the lights went out, and some we took from the same people who attacked some of you.”
“Oh,” Amanda's answer was more subdued.
“Zach, you're up!” Clay called back. “I don't think we'll have a problem, but let’s be ready.”
“On it, Boss,” Zach replied, stepping into the turret as he pulled his goggles down.
“What is he doing?” Amanda asked.
“He's checking the gun and getting it ready in case we need it,” Vicki told her, watching him work.
“Him?”
“Yes, him,” Xavier told her, eyes boring into hers. “Is that an issue for you, Miss Lowery?” he raised an eyebrow.
“No,” she shook her head. “Just... didn't expect it. That's all.”
“He's probably one of the best gunners out of the entire crowd,” Vicki told her. “Almost uncanny, in fact.”
“He is that,” Xavier agreed. “But don't tell him. It might go to his head.”
“I heard that!” Zach yelled down.
Up front, Greg was leaning forward from one side of the compartment while Tandi did the same from the opposite side.
“So, he's dead already?” Greg was clarifying the information he'd gotten.
“Killed himself,” Clay nodded. “But waited for Bronson to actually open the tent and be looking at him before he did it, yelling about the worthy thing the entire time.”
“Damn,” Greg muttered. “I hope there ain't any more like him at home. I've fought that kind of shit before. No desire to do it again.”
“Amen, brother,” Tandi murmured. “Why are we going, other than to take a look at the device?” he asked Clay.
“I think Adcock wanted us to go,” Clay frowned. “Why, I don't know, so partly it's to find out why. Also, if we want a look at the guy's gear, this is probably the only way to get it. To see if you can get the ID from it and check it against the message.”
“What message?” Greg frowned.
“Leon intercepted a burst packet from somewhere,” Clay told him. “Well, Millie did, anyway, and Leon decoded it. One-word message; Brimstone.”
“I don't like the sound of that,” it was Greg's turn to frown. “I don't think I like that at all, in fact.”
“Yeah, me neither,” Clay snorted. Their conversation was cut short by their arrival at the interstate ramp. Adcock's Hummer was sitting there along with an MRAP of his own and a truck loaded with a squad of men. Clay opened his door as they came even with Adcock, but didn't step down.
“I see the rumors are true,” Adcock raised an eyebrow. “Nice ride.”
“Bought it used,” Clay said dryly. “We'll follow you.”
“Very well,” Adcock nodded. “We may well stay the night,” he warned.
“We've considered it,” Clay replied. “We'll see.” Wi
th that he closed the door. They could talk when they got there.
“Let them get ahead and then fall into trail, Corey.”
“Got it, Boss.”
-
The trip was uneventful, but on arriving in Lewiston, Clay found that the atmosphere around the town's leaders and lawmen was tense to say the least.
“Never seen the like,” Bronson admitted as he sat behind a desk. “I've seen a lot of stuff over the years, but a man ripping his own throat out was a new one on me.”
“No accounting for zealots, man,” Greg shrugged. Vicki and Corey had remained with the Cougar, as had Amanda and Kim.
Clay, Tandi, Greg, Xavier and Zach had gone inside.
“And what was it he was saying?” Adcock asked, making notes as he went. He asked good questions, Clay decided.
“He was yelling about how we had persecuted him for bringing us the message of truth, or words to that effect,” Bronson recalled. “Threatening us with flaming fire and brimstone that would take vengeance -,”
“Did you say brimstone?” Tandi perked up at once.
“Yeah,” Bronson nodded. “Why?”
“Do you think it related?” Adcock asked Clay.
“What's related?” Bronson asked, leaning forward.
“I think I don't believe in coincidence,” Clay shrugged.
“What the hell are you bunch talking about!” Bronson demanded.
“We intercepted a radio message this afternoon,” Clay told the deputy. “A coded one. When we managed to decode it, it only had one word; brimstone. There was nothing else other than the electronic signature for the machine to send and receive the message.”
“He had a little computer,” Bronson nodded. “And some kind of transmitter. Tore the hell out o' both of 'em with a damn rock.” He walked to a shelf behind him and returned with a box carrying the remains of the equipment.
“Damn,” Tandi almost sighed the curse out. “He did a number on that stuff, man.” He reached into the box and began to sort through the pieces.
“What the hell is all this about flaming vengeance and brimstone and all that other business?”
“It's from the bible,” Zach said absently as he studied the law books in a case along the wall.
“What?” more than once voice asked.
“It's from the bible,” Zach turned to look at them. “Not word for word, but a mish-mash of different things from the bible. He's trying to use just enough scripture to make you think he's using the bible, but he's not. Fire and brimstone rained down on Sodom and Gomorrah, and-,”
“That was it,” Bronson snapped his fingers. “Flaming fire and brimstone will rain down. And… flaming vengeance, I think, no, flaming fire, I think, will extract vengeance in his stead.”
“That's a play on Second Thessalonians,” Zach told him. “'The Lord Jesus will be revealed from heaven with His mighty angels in flaming fire, dealing out retribution to those who do not know God and to those who do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus'. He's twisted it around for his own benefit, but he's taken it from there, it sounds like.”
“Well done, Zachary,” Xavier complimented quietly. “And he's quite right, too,” he turned to face the rest. “A common tactic among heretics and apostates. Using bits and pieces of the Holy Word in order to draw in and lull the dull witted into a false sense of certainty in their new 'faith'. It will only work on those too lazy to do their own reading, or else on those who feel they have been betrayed at some point by their own religion.”
“A true zealot, then,” Adcock exhaled a deep breath. “Perfect.”
“So long as there ain't no Army of God with a flaming angel, or whatever, I don't see the problem,” Bronson shrugged. When no one spoke, Bronson rubbed his face.
“You gotta be kidding me,” he said finally.
“Wish we were,” Clay was shaking his head.
“We've seen evidence that this bunch does have at least some martial ability,” Adcock said slowly. “We've yet to determine just how much, but we're working on that. And, if he's the one who sent this message, then we have to assume that your town is now a possible target of their ire.”
“Well that's just great,” Bronson dropped into his chair. “I gotta get the mayor over here to listen to this,” he said, more to himself than the others.
“Man, I don't think I can get anything from this crap,” Tandi said from where he was studying the box of components. “Deuce or your brother might, but I'm not finding anything useful.”
“Who is Deuce?” both Adcock and Bronson asked.
“Just someone we know,” Clay shook his head at the irrelevancy. “If you want to let us take it along, maybe we can confirm one way or another that he either did or didn't send the message. Up to you,” Clay shrugged as if it made no difference to him one way or another.
“Have to ask the mayor and the sheriff when they get here,” Bronson was shaking his head.
“Okay. If you decide you want us to take a look, the Captain can bring it along with him,” Clay decided. “I don't see any way for us to contribute otherwise, so we're going. Load it up,” he told the others, turning for the door.
“Wait for the sheriff!” Bronson called.
“No need,” Clay told him as the others trooped by, out the door. “No offense, but we'd like to be back home as soon after dark as we can. There's nothing else we can do to contribute, other than try to identify the radio message origin. We can't do that here, so we'll be on our way. Captain, always a pleasure. Good to see you again, Deputy.” With that, Clay was the last one out the door.
Corey already had the engine running when Clay climbed aboard, even as Zach climbed back into the turret.
“Get us moving, Corey,” Clay ordered. “Same way out as we used coming in. Don't speed, but don't stop, either.”
“Something wrong?” Tandi asked. “If there is, I didn't see it.”
“This is going to end up being about defending Lewiston,” Clay told him. “I got nothing at all against them, but we are not going to spend our blood defending a town that's still in this good of a shape, full of oh-so-friendly, heavily armed people, and that has nearly one hundred soldiers to call on. If we stay, we'll get roped into doing just that.” He paused, looking out the window at the growing dark.
“We are not going to have this brimstone raining on us if I can help it.”
EPILOGUE
“Sir, we have a Brimstone message.”
The man behind the desk looked up, frowning at the messenger.
“Brimstone?” he repeated. “What does that mean, again?”
“Complete failure, with strong opposition,” the messenger replied. “The machine signature identified the sender as Dale Roberts, originally from the Atlanta area. He was a speaker with a good record in the cause.” The man couldn't hide the scorn he felt for people like Roberts.
“Roberts,” the man mused, thinking. “What did we name him?”
“Talent. Ezekiel Talent,” came the answer.
“Oh, yes. I remember him,” the man leaned back. “He was ripe for the picking by the time he came to us, wasn't he. Hell of a salesman. Made a good manure spreader as I recall,” he laughed contemptuously. That was how he thought of the people out 'spreading the truth', or as he liked to call it, shoveling shit. In reality, all they had been doing was spying, and leaving devoted followers behind them. Followers that could be used in any number of productive ways.
“Yes sir, he was,” the messenger nodded. “His code indicated that he was being hunted, and that rather than be taken, he would destroy his device and take his own life.” His tone indicated what he thought of that.
“Hate to lose that equipment,” the man behind the desk sighed. “Where was he?” the man rose and walked to a map.
“A moderate sized town in middle Tennessee, sir,” the messenger followed him and placed a red pin on the wall map. There were other pins there, or all different colors. Each color meant something.
“Hm,
” the man rubbed his chin. “That's farm and livestock country up there,” he said out loud. “Did his previous messages indicate anything there that we could use?”
“He mentioned crop land and what he described as a 'bountiful harvest', but with people like him, he may have been talking about potential converts. As you say, however, it is prime country for livestock as well as crops.”
“We could use that,” the man decided suddenly. “Contact. . .Breaker, I think,” he tapped a spot on the map. “Tell him to get up there, scout things out, and then get back to us. But,” he turned to look at the messenger, now writing orders in the small ledger he carried.
“I want them to go prepared to stomp whoever they find flat. Just in case I decide to take that route.”
“Will do, sir.”
A WORD FROM THE AUTHOR
(me again)
It's been a long wait between Fire novels, I know. I hope this was one was worth the wait, and that some of the questions so many people have had were answered, at least in part. (Can't answer them all at once, though. Got to leave at least some mystery for later, right?)
It's my hope that you have enjoyed this new installment of the Fire series and I appreciate you taking the time to read it. The series is still ongoing, of course, and was written to be open ended. Essentially, we explore the apocalypse together until you get tired of reading about the Sanders and the challenges they face is the post CME world… or until I run out of ideas.
If you did enjoy it, please remember to leave a review for it on your boookseller’s website. I know you probably get tired of hearing that request, but as I've said before, it's worth a great deal more than just telling me whether or not you enjoyed the book, though I'm always happy to know that. Reviews nowadays are how the search algorithms are compiled. Essentially, the more reviews, and the better the review, the booksellers feature not only this particular book, but the series in general, and me as an author. This, in turn, often brings me new readers simply because they see my books featured more often, based on the reviews of those who have already read the book. Additionally, if you haven't 'followed' me on social media, take a second to do so. If you follow me on Amazon, Kindle will automatically alert you whenever I release a new book, regardless of the title or series. It's a good way not to miss anything new that I have going.
