Charlie's Requiem: Democide (22 page)

“He says that he did that to protect it from hurricanes. But once you meet him, I’ll let you decide.” Ed said, as they stared at the half-buried structure.

“Strange bird, huh!” Kramer commented.

“You have no idea! He retired from the Marines and sometimes I think they scrambled a few eggs in his noggin, if you catch my drift.” Ed replied.

They got out of the old pickup, noticing the bank of solar panels standing off to the left of the “house.” The solar panels were connected to a smaller second metal building.

“There’s his solar array,” Ed commented. “He made a faraday cage out of the attached shed; so if anyone has power, he does.”

Electric wiring snaked from the panels and into the small structure. A large, single electric conduit then came back out on the other side and immediately dove into the dirt, likely sending its electricity to the half-buried main house. A steel or aluminum 80-foot tower stood attached to the side of the metal shack and was bolted to a concrete pad, which had been poured as a foundation. A hand crank was situated at its base, allowing for the tower to be retracted.

“Old fool installed a retractable mast to collapse the tower in a storm. Guess he isn’t such a fool after all.” Ed stated.

The two men moved toward the front door, Ed stopping Kramer by putting his arm in front of the advancing doctor.

“Hold here,” Ed said. “Let me handle this.”

Grafton stepped up a few paces and yelled at the front door.

“BRAGG! ITS ED GRAFTON!”

After a few seconds, the front door opened just enough for a shotgun barrel to extend out.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT, ED? I AIN’T GOT NOTHIN’ FER YA!”

“I don’t need anything, Bragg. Just wanted to ask you a question.”

“You armed?” Bragg asked as he opened the door a bit more, sticking his head and arms out of the opening, and pointing the double-barreled coach gun at the two of them.

“In the truck,” Ed replied. “You don’t think I’m fool enough to come over here without my rifle, do you?”

“Nah!” Bragg replied. “I suppose yer Momma didn’t raise no fool! But who’s the other one!”

“Dr. Kramer,” Ed replied. “He wants to ask you a favor!”

“I done tole you that I don’t have nothin’ fer ya!” Bragg blurted in his thick “southern” accent.

“I don’t want anything from you, other than your expertise!” Kramer said in his most soothing patient/doctor voice. “I hear you may have a working ham radio.”

“WHO TOLE YOU THAT? GRAFTON?” He yelled.

“Now come on, Bragg. You know me. I wouldn’t put you at risk telling just anyone about your radio! Dr. Kramer’s a good man and I knew you’d do him a favor since you never know when you might need one back, him being a doctor and all.”

Bragg thought about it for a few seconds, then lowered his shotgun and opened the door.

“Yer all git in here,” he said. “Don’t want the feds ta see y’all standin’ out in the open like that.”

Grafton and Kramer entered the recluse’s house, and stared at the large, single-room space. The “house” was actually a buried old military metal building, which Kramer immediately recognized.

“Old Quonset hut, huh?” Kramer started.

“Good eyes,” the gristly old man replied. He pulled out a pack of unfiltered Camel cigarettes and lit one with a metal Zippo lighter. Taking a long draw, he blew the smoke up toward the roof where a venting fan slowly turned, pulling the outside air in from the front door and up and out of the buried structure.

“Is you military?” Bragg asked.

“Air Force.” Kramer replied. “Captain in the medical corps.”

“Medical, huh.” Bragg spat. “Never had no use fer the fly-boys. But yer a doc, so I’ll give ya a pass.”

“You’re a Marine.” Kramer said with some conviction. “You were a
noncom
.”

“HA!” Bragg howled. “At least ya know what we were. All that P.C. crap now and we suddenly became N.C.O.s. What a load. Bunch’a pussies if ya ask me.”

Kramer smiled. Having dealt with old school Marines, he knew they were as tough as they were crude. They lived up to their reputation, cemented in history by a famous quote attributed to Eleanor Roosevelt over 50 years ago. “The Marines I have seen around the world have the cleanest bodies, the filthiest minds, the highest morale, and the lowest morals of any group of animals I have ever seen. Thank God for the United States Marine Corps!” She had said.

“Well, Sergeant.” Kramer began.

“Staff Sergeant!” Bragg replied.

“Well, Staff Sar,” Kramer stated once again, using the slang term many older veterans preferred. “I hear you may have a working ham radio. My daughter is a resident at Vanderbilt Medical Center in Nashville. I need to know if she’s alright.”

“Well,” Bragg said. “Yer little one’s a doctor too, huh!”

The old Marine stared at Kramer, sizing him up and down as if appraising a new boot. Finally, after scratching his clean-shaven, heavily cragged face, he nodded.

“I kin do that,” he finally said. “But I don’t know if I kin get anyone up there. Most of the ham’s been from out of the country. Hardly nobody’s been talkin’ with anyone in the states.”

“Really,” Ed chimed in. “No one but you?”

“Yep!” Bragg replied. “Find it intrestin’ that no one but the U.S. been hit by that EMP either.”

“You sure about the EMP?” Kramer asked.

“That’s what I’m hearin’ from Europe. Seems the boys overseas been recalled back to the states. But they ain’t been able ta coordinate much with our folks back here. They says the President,” He stopped and spat on the ground, “Our leader’s bin in contact with the Europeans. Says he’s safe n sound somewhere. Probably Hawaii if ya ask me. And that it was an EMP.”

“Do they know who did it?” Kramer asked.

Bragg let out a howl, laughing so hard he lost his breath. His tar-filled lungs began to hack as he fought for air, finally bringing himself under control after a full minute of wall-rattling coughs.

“Who do ya’ think did it?” Bragg asked sarcastically.

Kramer suddenly recognized Bragg for who he was, a conspiracy nut. Scanning the room, he saw the ham radio set up on a table next to a corkboard. Displayed on the board were printouts of articles too small to read other than their headlines.

“U.S. and Russian Navies Hold Joint Exercises in Atlantic and Baltic Seas!”

“Russian Advisers Work with Army on Joint Counter Terrorism Drills!”

“Soviet and Chinese Generals to Observe DHS Exercises in Texas.”

“President Say He Wants to “Transform America!”

Kramer moved closer to the displayed articles and began to read their full text. Slowly, it began to dawn on him that the government might have actually been duplicitous in the whole thing, if not by their hand, then with their tacit approval. It made a sick kind of sense that the administration would allow this crisis to occur, giving them and their followers a chance to reshape the country as they saw fit.

“Holy crap!” Kramer said as he studied the news-covered wall.

“Made a believer out a ya?” Bragg asked with pride.

“I’ll say this,” Kramer shot back. “I can’t argue that it isn’t possible.”

“Well,” Bragg replied. “Ya’r one of the few officers I’ve met that has a brain on their shoulders.” He then continued.

“I’ll send a message up the tree and see if there’s anyone in Nashville that’s got a line on yer daughter. Write down her name and where she is and I’ll try and find her fer ya!”

“Thanks!” Kramer said. “If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know.”

“Thar sure is!” He quickly replied. “I need some more smokes.”

“Come on!” Ed interjected. “You can’t ask a doctor to get you some cigarettes!”

“Ed!” Kramer quickly responded. “Right now the world’s gone to hell. I don’t think worrying about his lungs is a big priority now.”

“Now that’s the spirit!” Bragg said with a partially toothless smile. “I knew ya were a smart one, doc.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Kramer assured the old man. “We’re going out to find some deep cycle batteries for my solar setup, and while we’re out there I’ll try and find some cigarettes for you. I just can’t promise you they’ll be unfiltered Camels.”

“Well, I kin smoke just about anything. But the Camels would be the best. Just grab as many as ye can an I’ll be happy with whatever ye bring.”

“Let’s go,” Kramer said after writing down his daughter’s information. “We’ll check back with you in a day or two. I just don’t know how long or if we’ll be able to find some batteries. We went to Bella Collina and the golf cart batteries were already gone.”

“Huh,” Bragg replied. “Yer gonna have a tough time findin’ any batteries. At least, where everyone looks fer ‘em! But I know where no one has checked.”

“Where?” Ed asked suspiciously. “I’ll bet every Wal-Mart, auto supply store and golf course has been raided.”

“Fer sure!” The old Marine said. “But I’ll bet no one’s checked the cell phone towers!”

“What? What about the cell towers?” Ed asked back.

“Every cell tower’s got a battery backup system,” Bragg replied. “It’s in a metal box or shed next to the tower. They got a ton of batteries in ‘em to keep them cell phones goin’ if there’s a hurricane or some other emergency. I’ll bet no one’s gone there since cell phones ain’t workin’ now anyway.”

“I’ll be damned.” Grafton said. “You’re right. And I know where there’s two of them in Winter Garden.”

“There are several that are closer that that!” Kramer said.

“Yeah, but they’re part of a big corporation like Verizon or Sprint. The batteries are probably inside one of their buildings, and I don’t want to go traipsing around inside a structure and not know where the backup system is.

These two are privately owned and they lease their towers to the cell companies.” Kramer noted.

He continued, “I’ve seen one of the two up close, and the shed is just behind a chain-linked fence. At least I know that’s where their batteries are and we won’t have to break into anything more than a padlocked fence and a metal-latched shed.”

“Now yer thinkin’!” Bragg squawked. “And while yer out there, ya can check fer my smokes!”

With a plan in place that would give them a legitimate chance for success, Grafton and Kramer thanked the old Marine and, returning to their old Chevy, they started it up and left the bunker behind.

“It’s after noon,” Ed said. “I need to go home and get some more tools and we can grab a bite to eat.”

“I thought you brought your tools?” Kramer replied.

“Not the tools I’ll need for breaking and entering. If we’re going to get into those sheds, I’ll need something more.”

Nodding, Kramer sat silently on the passenger’s side of the old leather bench seat. At least they had a plan to try and contact Claire, and he now felt comfortable telling his wife about Bragg and his radio. But something else bothered him, and now that he had met the old Marine, he recognized his concerns. He was developing a bad taste for the government. The fact that DHS busses were bypassing stranded children, and that no help was forthcoming to his neighbors was bad enough. But finding out that all this was happening while the bureaucrats were sitting in Hawaii or some other comfortable place just pushed him over the top. Now, he wasn’t sure what to do, and uncertainty was not a companion he enjoyed. Uncertainty was the bane of his profession, and he worked passionately to avoid it. But in these times, as an old general once said, you have to go to war with the Army you have. In other words, you did the best you could with what you’d been given.

Sometimes, faith was all you had; and as long as you put your best foot forward, you had to trust that it would all work out in the end.

The trip home took less than 10 minutes and Grafton dropped Kramer off at his house, promising to pick him up in half an hour. Entering his home, he was rewarded with the smell of cooking. His wife had used some freeze-dried beef and made a pot of chili. The aroma of chili powder and meat filled the hallway, drawing him into the kitchen like an ant to a pot of honey.

“Hey Babe!” His wife said as she quickly walked over to him and gave him an appreciative hug and kiss. “Just in time for my chili!”

“I can smell it!” He replied.

Barb ladled out some pasta from a pot on the gas stove. She covered the noodles with a giant heap of her chili and sprinkled it with onions.

“Sorry I don’t have any cheese,” She said. “I didn’t rehydrate any.”

“Save it, this is more than enough,” he assured her. “We can use it later. You never know when we will need the calories. And besides, this looks amazing as it is!”

Barb beamed with appreciation as they sat down at the table, joining their obviously pouting daughter.

After a few bites, Kramer began to sense the hostility coming from his youngest child. Giving his wife one of their shared looks, he let her know that he recognized Caroline’s attitude. Barb just gave him a gentle shake of the head back, indicating that they would talk about it later.

Three more bites into their lunch, and Caroline abruptly sprang up from the kitchen table and announced that she wasn’t hungry.

“I’m going to my room, since I can’t go anywhere else!” She haughtily announced and stormed out of the room.

Kramer turned to his wife and waited for their little bundle of joy to leave their presence. When they heard her bedroom door slam shut, Barb smiled.

“What’s that about?” Kramer asked in typical fatherly ignorance.

“It seems our little butterfly is flirting about with our new next-door neighbor.”

“You mean Rob?” He stated, his paternal ire beginning to rise.

“Yeah, but keep your shirt on,” she replied, recognizing his rising temper. “It hasn’t gone far, and I let her know that it better not go any further.”

“You know,” Kramer added. “When I was at Ed’s garage today, Rob asked about her. He did seem disappointed that she wasn’t with me. I got the sense that they liked each other, but I didn’t know how far it had gone!”

“Well, it hasn’t progressed beyond a little make-out session, at least from what I can tell.”

“I better have a word with her,” he said, getting up from the table.

“Sit down, Gerry.” She gently commanded. “I’ve got a handle on it. No sense having her mad at both of us. But I think you might want to discuss this with Robert as well. Having an angry dad standing in front of his daughter may hold more sway than having Ed giving him some unwanted advice.”