Doomsday Civil War: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (The Doomsday Series Book 5)

by Bobby Akart

“Can you trust him?” asked Blair, who felt better about the young man but still had lingering doubts.

  “I have to. With Briscoe alive and still pulling the strings of his operatives, I’m not sure who I can trust. Besides, I’ve already elevated his security access to make it easier. I also have new communications, satellite, and computer gear to help him.”

  “These new men,” began Donna, “the ones you brought along, are they going to search for Briscoe and Schwartz?”

  Cort shook his head. “No, I’d like to pick a team and do it ourselves. They’ll remain here, under Ryan and Blair’s direction, to protect the Haven while we’re gone.”

  “Why don’t you use the operators?” asked Blair. “They’re better trained than our people.”

  “Maybe,” replied Cort. “However, there is the matter of trust and loyalty. You see, they aren’t aware that our targets include Briscoe. They think they’re here to assist in the Haven’s security. I need to keep our mission close to the vest.”

  Blair continued to play devil’s advocate. “Schwartz and Briscoe have resources, too. What makes you think they haven’t surrounded themselves with an army of operators like your new guys?”

  “They’re probably more cautious than I am at the moment. Both of them are on the run while I’m on the offensive. They just don’t know it yet.”

  “It gives us an element of surprise,” muttered Alpha. “If they’re together, hiding out, they may have reached a false sense of security because of the passage of time.”

  “Exactly,” said Cort. “Listen, one of the first conversations we had as a group when everyone arrived was the meaning of the letters MM in the cryptic texts some of us had received. It took an eight-year-old boy to point out the obvious. George Trowbridge envisioned a clandestine army of Minutemen who’d leap into action when the opportunity presented itself. He called on the Minutemen and, depending on how you look at it, they performed admirably.”

  Cort paused to study the faces of his new, extended family. He wanted to gauge their reaction before he asked them to take a big risk, not only for him, but for their country. He’d never considered himself an orator, but in the moment, he found himself channelling patriots from years past.

  “I’ll be taking control of the Minutemen as George’s days on Earth dwindle. That said, for now, I need Minutemen of my own to correct the course he envisioned and start anew. I hope that you all will be with me.”

  Chapter 33

  Schwartz Lodge

  Near Kutztown, Pennsylvania

  Over their days holed up together at Schwartz’s Lodge in the hills outside Kutztown, Briscoe and his adversary had become friends. Naturally, they discussed politics, a topic that consumed their lives both before and after the New Year’s attacks. They also discussed world affairs, finance, and America’s world standing. Their discussions never became heated and oftentimes resulted in a point-counterpoint type of exchange in which the two men tallied their points and kept score.

  The consensus, usually after an emptied bottle of brandy or two, was that both sides of the political spectrum wanted the same thing, they simply disagreed on the means of achieving their goal.

  They were fully aware that chaos was rampant in the streets of midsize to large cities. Oddly, they observed, small hamlets like Kutztown remained largely unaffected by violence. Kutztown was, however, feeling the pinch of the collapse of the nation’s economy. America’s critical infrastructure such as utilities, albeit intact in the majority of the country, still couldn’t help the crippling of the internet and the world’s financial markets.

  The inability to process payments for goods and services struck the U.S. especially hard. It was a society built on credit and the use of plastic to exchange money for products. Over the past two decades, the nation had become a cashless society more and more. It was not unusual for a McDonald’s customer to whip out a debit card to pay for their kid’s Happy Meal.

  This followed on the heels of a century-long process in which cash replaced precious metals as a means of currency. Long before President Richard Nixon announced that the U.S. dollar would no longer be backed by gold in August of 1971, the use of gold and silver as a method of payment had disappeared.

  After New Year’s Eve, precious metals in the form of gold, silver, and even junk silver, a term used to describe U.S. coinage that was minted prior to 1965, became the currency of choice. In reality, older quarters were anything but junk, as they were made of ninety percent silver, compared to the newer quarters, which combined nickel and copper to create the twenty-five-cent coin.

  A barter marketplace had been created in Kutztown, which predominantly accepted junk silver as payment for ordinary household products, and pure silver and gold for larger items of value.

  Jonathan had a small quantity of precious metals and currency stored in a safe at his family’s lodge. He and Briscoe were careful not to throw money around, hoping to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to themselves. On their shopping excursions, they didn’t go to any shopping location twice in successive trips. They wore hunting gear to blend in and tried to avoid casual conversation.

  With each trip, they stocked up on food and supplies, together with ample supplies of liquor. The two men found that the more inebriated they became, the more they managed to agree on political issues. Perhaps, Jonathan suggested, legalizing marijuana was the key to bringing the country back together. As he put it, maybe we could all adopt a don’t worry, be happy approach to solving the nation’s problems.

  “I’m ready when you are,” said Briscoe as he emerged from his bedroom. Wearing camouflage clothing and a hunting cap caused him to resemble Elmer Fudd from the Bugs Bunny cartoon.

  Jonathan, for his part, resembled a noble gentleman ready to mount his horse and follow the hounds into battle. The two aristocrats might have thought they blended in with the locals, but in reality, they stood out because they didn’t look the part of country boys who loved to hunt.

  “Let’s go,” said Jonathan as he opened the front door to allow Briscoe to pass in front of him. They hadn’t bothered to lock the door during their outings, and in their days together at the lodge, they hadn’t been contacted by any unwanted visitors.

  He drove a little faster than normal, as the two men had gotten a late start on their day. Their evenings were filled with conversation and, increasingly, the liberal consumption of liquor. As a result, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for them to drink until the wee hours of the morning and awaken at noon or later.

  “I know we’ve talked about this several times,” began Briscoe as they drove along the bumpy driveway toward the two-lane road that bordered the front of the Schwartz property. “I still have no desire to reach out to any of my people, assuming, of course, I still have any people.” He emphasized the last word in the sentence to make his point.

  “You’re a man without a country,” quipped Jonathan as he swerved to dodge a pothole, one of several on the old country road. “And I’m a man who needs to leave this country.”

  Briscoe asked, “When do we make our move? Is it too early to look for a way out?”

  Jonathan had contemplated these same questions often throughout the day. He’d determined it was best to do nothing for now. “I don’t have a sense of urgency, Hanson. The feds haven’t swooped down on the lodge, and I imagine they’re busy elsewhere. As for you, assuming Trowbridge is still looking for you, he’d never suspect that you’d be with me, much less here.”

  “You’re suggesting status quo,” said Briscoe.

  “I am. We’ve got money or, to be more precise, negotiable currency in the form of gold and silver. We have supplies that we supplement with our trips into town. And we still have weapons. It’s not enough to equip an army, but we can most certainly defend ourselves against the run-of-the-mill burglar.”

  “Okay, I’m of the same mindset. Truthfully, this has been very relaxing for me.” He paused and then laughed. “I’ve even grown to tolerate your company.�
��

  “Feeling’s mutual, neocon,” said Jonathan, referring to a label often used to describe men like Briscoe. The word was short for neoconservative, a political movement born in the sixties with liberal hawks who’d become estranged from the increasingly pacifist foreign policy of the Democratic Party.

  Neocons were known to advocate the expansion of democratic ideals and American national interests into international affairs, much to the chagrin of those who espoused America-first policies. They tended to see military solutions to foreign-policy challenges.

  Briscoe let out a hearty laugh. In times past, Jonathan’s statement might throw Briscoe into a rage in which he argued the nuances of neoconservatism and the differences from President Ronald Reagan’s concept of peace through strength. However, after becoming friends, the two found they could trade barbs without getting offended, something they felt like all of America needed in order to bridge the political divide.

  The two men teased one another, and Jonathan playfully pretended to turn the wheel hard to the left in an effort to throw Briscoe out of the Kawasaki Mule. Briscoe quickly grabbed the handlebar and feigned falling by swinging his right leg outside the vehicle.

  As he did, his cell phone gradually slipped out of his pocket and bounced onto the shoulder of the road, tumbling over and over into a farmer’s driveway, where it sat baking in the unusually warm winter sun.

  Chapter 34

  Kutztown, Pennsylvania

  Sofia Horst was walking her palomino pony along the fence row that surrounded the family’s homestead on Krumsville Road, the route taken by Schwartz and Briscoe into town on a regular basis. Like her parents, she did her daily chores of tending to the horses and chickens, not paying attention to the strangers as they drove past. Folks in Kutztown had a tendency to stick to themselves, and the Horst family was no different. Berks County had been settled mainly by Germans, most of whom emigrated to the United States from their hometowns in southwest Germany along the Rhine River. They brought their love of farming and ability to raise livestock with them, finding the fertile lands around Kutztown to closely resemble their beloved Germany.

  Sofia was speaking softly to her pony when her eyes wandered toward the driveway of their farmhouse where it met the road. She saw a cell phone lying faceup in the gravel. She tied off her horse and climbed over the split-rail fence to retrieve the phone. Her family didn’t have a cell phone, so she knew it wasn’t theirs. Not knowing what to do, she jumped on her horse and rode up to the house to alert her father.

  “It wasn’t there this morning,” he said as he turned it over and over in his hands. The phone had been scratched, and the display had cracked as a result of bouncing off the jagged limestone rocks of the driveway.

  His wife emerged from the kitchen, where she’d been making apple strudel, a German favorite that was a mainstay of the families living around Kutztown. “Turn it on and maybe you can determine who it belongs to.”

  “It won’t have a name on it, I don’t think,” said her husband.

  “That’s true, Papa, but the phone contacts list might allow you to recognize the names. Maybe it belongs to one of our neighbors?”

  Sofia’s mother playfully twisted the young girl’s earlobe. “How do you know of such things?”

  “My friends in school all have cell phones,” she replied.

  “They do?” asked her father.

  “Yes, Papa. It’s actually normal.”

  He laughed and handed her the phone. “Well, it isn’t normal for me. Go ahead, turn it on and look for a name.”

  Sally took the phone from her father and powered on the display. The iPhone’s lock screen appeared. The display remained lit up for thirty seconds and then shut off.

  “It has a passcode and face recognition,” observed Sally.

  “What?” asked her father.

  “Never mind, Papa,” she replied politely. “I can’t make it work without a password.”

  “Maybe the person who lost it will try to call,” offered her mother. “If it’s turned on, will it ring? You can answer it and tell them where to pick it up.”

  Sofia shrugged and replied, “I don’t know. Maybe? I have to remove the cabbages around the fence posts by the front gate and replace them with tulip bulbs. I’ll keep turning the phone on. Maybe they’ll call. If they don’t, I’ll set it on a post with a sign for them to find it.”

  “That’s fine, dear,” said her mother. “Be here at five to prepare dinner. No excuses, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” replied Sofia, who hustled off to plant her flower garden. She religiously powered the phone on and off as she awaited a phone call that never came.

  *****

  The two faux hunters descended upon their favorite shopping stop—Weis Plaza. In addition to a grocery store, the Weis family operated a gas station, a liquor store, a bakery, and a small feed store complete with hardware supplies. It was one-stop shopping for Schwartz and Briscoe, and their trips made them known to the proprietors, who especially appreciated their method of payment.

  While Jonathan negotiated a deal to purchase groceries in bulk in exchange for gold bullion, Briscoe filled their shopping cart with all of their favorite foods and drinks. He was waiting impatiently for Schwartz to finish his conversation, and unconsciously fiddled with his pants pocket.

  That was when he noticed his cell phone was missing. Briscoe, who’d had nothing but the clothes on his back when he arrived at the Schwartzes’ lodge, together with the murder weapon and his cell phone, kept both on his person whenever he ventured out. Despite his newfound friendship, Briscoe still felt the need to protect himself in the event Schwartz turned on him, or they were discovered by their pursuers.

  Cold beads of sweat flowed down Briscoe’s forehead as he searched frantically through his clothing. He looked through the groceries stored in his cart, to no avail. He even retraced his steps throughout the store, thinking the phone might have fallen out in one of the aisles. Finally, after inquiring with the single store clerk stationed at the register, he summoned Jonathan to tell him about the problem.

  At first, Jonathan wasn’t quite as panicked as Briscoe was. However, as the two searched the four-wheeler and the ground around it, Briscoe explained that someone with sufficient computer hacking skills could attempt to break the unlock code assigned to the phone. If it remained powered on for a long enough time, it could be discovered through triangulating Verizon’s network.

  Jonathan gained a sense of urgency, and the two quickly left town and headed back to the lodge. As they drove, they focused on searching the left side of the road, which was closest to where Briscoe had been seated on the trip into town.

  It was 5:30 and almost dark when they came across the Horst family’s farm. Jonathan began to laugh as he pointed to a fencepost with a cardboard sign nailed to it.

  “It appears someone has done our job for us,” he said as he nudged Briscoe with his elbow.

  “Thank God,” Briscoe mumbled before exhaling. Before the four-wheeler came to a stop, he jumped out and raced up to the post, where he found the battered iPhone. He looked around to see if anyone was watching. Relieved that they were not seen, he tore the sign off the post and threw it in the back of the Mule.

  Jonathan said jokingly, as he paraphrased a Bible verse, “What was once lost is now found.” He had no idea how profound his statement was.

  Chapter 35

  X-Ray’s Cabin

  The Haven

  X-Ray reveled in his newfound position: hunting down the two men who appeared to be responsible for the collapse. He was also glad to be back in everyone’s good graces. He’d gone from being a pariah and shackled to a post in a toolshed to the lead investigator in a digital manhunt.

  Finding people who didn’t want to be found was one of X-Ray’s specialties. He was very capable of being successful in this search even without the additional tools and clearances provided by Cort, although they certainly helped him in his quest.

  X
-Ray had a mental checklist of digital tools at his disposal. Video footage, credit card transactions, cell phone triangulation, and the FBI files associated with the Schwartz arrest were just some of the avenues he traveled down. After Cort upped his clearance within the government spy agency computers and increased his computer capabilities by giving him access to multiple internet networks via satellite, X-Ray could conduct multiple database inquiries simultaneously and remain completely anonymous by using his VPN software.

  He’d spoken to Cort prior to getting started in order to learn as much about the two men as he could. It was interesting for X-Ray to learn that he’d been in direct contact with Hanson Briscoe, the architect of the New Year’s attacks. Flattered was the more appropriate word, but X-Ray didn’t want Cort to know that. It was X-Ray’s direct interaction with Briscoe that had almost gotten the Cortland family killed.

  While the data was being processed, X-Ray studied the background of the two fugitives. He wanted to learn as much as he could about them from the various law enforcement databases at his disposal. There was voluminous information on Schwartz but precious little on Briscoe.

  During his research, X-Ray learned of the murder of the caretaker and his wife at Monocacy Farm. Their car had also been stolen in the getaway.

  X-Ray used this information as a lead, thinking that Briscoe might have been directly or indirectly involved. However, his ability to search the satellite video footage was hampered when several gaps appeared in the NSA’s coverage of Pennsylvania and parts of Maryland. Scouring footage for a nondescript vehicle could take a team many weeks, and he was only one man.

  X-Ray was busy scouring through credit card records and bank accounts when he suddenly got a hit from the Verizon server. Using the list of phone contacts that Cort provided him from his newly acquired cell phone from Trowbridge, a number assigned to Briscoe showed the location of the phone in the area of Kutztown, Pennsylvania.