Dark New World (Book 3): EMP Deadfall (7 page)

Jim would pretend to hate the task, of course, but whatever. He was the only one Peter could trust to do the job right, and not to keep the info close to his vest—he’d tell Peter, no matter what the guy spilled to him. Jim was mostly a good man, pretty damn bent but loyal, and easily convinced that the unsavory things Peter tasked him with were necessary in this freakin’ hell of a new world. He seemed to need the excuse, and Peter had no qualms about providing him one. Well, Jim’s kind of loyalty was hard to find even before the shit hit the fan. It was more valuable than gold these days. As long as Peter kept giving Jim the noble excuses the twisted bastard needed to indulge his inner self, he would probably die for Peter if he asked him to.

Jim nodded, lips pursed as he mentally prepared himself for the task ahead, which might well get very unpleasant. He was good at this. He could be very, very persuasive when Peter ordered him to be. Peter knew he wouldn’t have to wait long for the information.

Peter turned again to the growing crowd of his people, raised his knife into the air once more, and screamed his bloody, victory roar. None now dared return his gaze, and Peter allowed himself a satisfied smile. Why not?

It was all going the way it had to go. And he’d be a legend before this was over.

- 4 -

1000 HOURS - ZERO DAY +20

CASSY SAT ON the couch in her living room and looked at the others gathered there for this Clan meeting. On some level, she realized that their attendance was a sign of her standing as leader of the Clan, a position she didn’t really want but that
someone
had to fill. And after all, it was her little farm…

Others attending included Frank, whose role had changed from Clan leader during their dangerous trek into something akin to a foreman or pit boss, with his ability to get people moving willingly on a task; people had begun to treat him as a liaison to Cassy, though she depended on him as an essential support, not a gatekeeper. Ethan, the geek who had saved them from an invader attack and sacrificed his underground bunker for their sakes, was now essentially their Intelligence officer. There was little of a technical nature that he couldn’t mend, jury-rig around, or cajole into working. Mandy, Cassy’s mother, didn’t want to be there when decisions were made, but Cassy trusted her to provide a well-thought-out moral viewpoint as a balance against raw practicality or rage against the invaders and the renegade Americans who threatened their Clan. And, of course, there was Michael, woodsman and former Marine, who had fallen into the role of head of security and defense.

The reason for the meeting sat in a kitchen chair against the wall opposite Cassy, the Asian they had captured the day before, just after the Red Locust raid. He sat regarding them calmly, looking more interested than afraid. The other Clan members sat in a semicircle, facing the prisoner, with Cassy.

At times like this, Cassy truly wished Frank was still the Clan’s leader. The job sucked—dealing with this kind of crap was terrible. She didn’t trust her own judgment, and she desperately wanted to hand the job off to Frank. She blew air out sharply, forcing herself to relax. Well, it was a damn job, and if no one else wanted the position, she’d just have to keep at it. Time to get the show on the road…

She cleared her throat, and everyone stopped what they were doing and looked to her. “So, your name is Chihun Ghim, and your friends call you ‘Choony,’ is that correct?”

Chihun nodded, seeming much more at ease than Cassy was. He smiled. “I have said this before, and I’ve answered all your questions truthfully. I will continue to do so. Dishonesty inspires a troubled mind.”

Michael looked at Chihun intently and said, “You’ll forgive us for not taking your word for that, sir. We may ask you the same question again later. And again after that.”

Ethan said, “Your name is pretty common in South Korea, less so in North Korea. Where were your parents from, and where were you born?”

Chihun didn’t seem at all frustrated by the questioning he had undergone since his capture. He calmly replied, “Mom and Dad were both from a village in Gangwon Province, east of Seoul. I was born in Mansfield but grew up in Scranton. I’m at Penn State, a fourth-year student majoring in chemistry.”

Michael studied the young man for a moment and said, “That’s plausible. It’s also a good cover for a North Korean spy. We heard they’re actually in charge of the Islamist invaders. We also heard the Resistance is giving the ’vaders hell all over the place. Seems to me that a lost Korean soldier might take some poor S.O.B.’s clothes and pretend to be American. So which is it really? Are you a North Korean spy, or a lost North Korean soldier?” He turned to Cassy. “I say we should eliminate him for our own safety.”

Frank frowned. Cutting in, he said, “Michael, that’s murder if he’s an American. He sounds American. I won’t kill our own if we don’t have to in self-defense.” He turned to Cassy. “What do you think?”

As Cassy started to reply, Michael interrupted. “Cassy, if we eliminate him, we eliminate the threat he poses, and if he’s American then that’s called collateral damage. It’s unfortunate, but our top priority has to be our own survival. The best way to do that is not to show up on enemy intel reports. We want to stay invisible.”

Frank looked angry when he shouted at Michael, “We can’t kill him just on the off chance he
might
be an enemy. That’s not the world we want for our kids, is it? Why can’t we just, I don’t know, send him packing?”

Ethan nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, like exile. We could blindfold him and bike him out someplace, and let him go. Then we’re safe whether he’s the enemy or not, and we don’t have to kill a guy who might be American.”

Michael frowned. “If he’s dangerous, you really want him running around out there knowing about us?”

Chihun sat with his mouth gaping, eyes wide, but shook away the shock. “Are you really talking about killing me,
right in front of me
? What kind of people
are
you? I told you, I’m an American. If you don’t want me here, why’d you bring me here? Dying isn’t so bad—it’s just part of the grand cycle, it’s death and rebirth—but I’m not eager for it and you— some of you—seem far too eager in my opinion.”

Cassy held up her hand. “Stop,” she said in an almost-whisper, yet the people in the room went quiet. She’d heard enough… Michael was a hammer and wanted to treat their captive like a nail. Frank was quiet, but he was honorable and wanted to send him on his way unharmed. Ethan was no real warrior and didn’t have the stomach for killing, except to protect innocents or the Clan, but thought “exile” was workable. She hadn’t heard from Mandy, and she’d brought her mom in for a reason.

“Grandma Mandy,” Cassy said, using the name everyone called her these days, “you’ve heard the problem and the opinions. I know you aren’t part of the Clan council, if that’s what we are, but you know right from wrong better than anyone I know, and I respect your opinion. What should we do?”

Mandy was quiet for a long moment, looking uncomfortable. She looked at her hands, intertwined together in her lap, and said, “The way I see it, the Bible doesn’t say we can’t kill our enemies—do we truly love our neighbor if we allow the evil in the world to kill them when we could prevent it?—but murder is still a sin, and wrong. But if we exile this young man, will he not be almost certain to die? Probably at the bloody hands of the Red Locusts, if not every racist American or invader hiding in the woods? Besides, no one has asked the boy what
he
wants to do.”

Michael shifted in his seat uncomfortably, but regained his usual composure. “Probably, ma’am. But I don’t see how that’s within my mission parameters. My mission is to keep us all as safe as possible, and he’s a risk any way you look at it. Regardless of his preferences.” Always respectful, that one, and Cassy nodded in approval.

Mandy replied, “Maybe not in your role as our protector, but as a human being it’s within
all
of our mission parameters.” She looked around the group. “This man looks no more than twenty-one or twenty-two, to me. Question him about Penn State, perhaps; I’m sure we have someone on the farm who went there. They’d know if he’s lying about being a student. And if he
is
a student there, he wouldn’t likely be a spy or a soldier for North Korea. Not given his age and his fluency in English. He’s got our local accent, even.”

Chihun looked from face to face, but to Cassy’s mild surprise he didn’t look particularly concerned about what happened to him. Maybe he
really was
upset only by the things her people were saying, rather than fearing death at the hands of fellow Americans. Her gut had earlier told her to let Michael kill the guy, but her reasoning told her she was being a bit paranoid about trusting anyone she didn’t know, especially after the things that happened before and after she joined the Clan. The Clan itself, and how it saved her life when it didn’t have to, proved that some people were still good at heart, even while America withered and died.

Cassy slapped her knees, and stood. Facing Chihun, she said, “Alright. Firstly, there’s reason to doubt he’s one of the enemy. His age, his accent, the fact that he didn’t run when we captured him. And you know, it seems weird that he was nearby when the Red Locusts raided us, but he didn’t seem to be a part of them. Why would an enemy stay in the area with a raid going on, when neither side was
his
side? For that matter, why did
he
stick around?

“Secondly, I don’t want to dump him off to die out there and pretend we didn’t murder him. I understand why Michael felt he
had
to capture this man, but when we did that, we made him our responsibility. If we kill him, we’ll do it with our own hands, not by sweeping him under the rug so we can sleep better at night.

“And thirdly. He’s not begging for his life, and the only thing that upset him as far as I could tell was that we were casually talking about killing him right in front of him. He seemed offended, not scared. Does that sound like an enemy? He sounds more like a philosopher or one of Ethan’s RPG mages to me.

“So, if anyone has an objection,” Cassy finished, “speak up now. Otherwise, I think we should take him in if he’ll have us. Probationary, let’s call it.”

Mandy spoke up. “First, dear, why not ask him what he’d like to do? That counts, too, or at least it should.”

Cassy looked to the others, each in turn, waiting for someone else to speak up. A compelling argument against letting him live could still sway her, and she was far from sure letting him stay was a brilliant idea, so it was important to let everyone be heard. But no one spoke against it. Michael looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t argue. So be it.

“Very well.” She focused in on the prisoner. “Grandma Mandy suggests we ask what you want to do, Chihun, and this is your chance. Anything you want to say?” Chihun smiled but shook his head. She continued, “Okay. By agreement of the Clan, Chihun, I invite you to stay with us here, at least for now. We’ll see how it works out, and revisit this down the road if we have to.” Chihun’s smile broadened, and he nodded. “Frank, will you please untie him, and set him up with a place to sleep and put him on a job? Thanks. I guess that’s all I have for now… Anyone else have something?” No one spoke.

Frank rose to untie the former prisoner and left with Chihun in tow, followed by Mandy and the others. Before Michael left, Cassy put her hand on his arm. “Hey, Michael. Can I get a word with you?”

Michael stopped and looked to the door, watching as the others left. Then he turned back to Cassy. “Yeah, shoot. What’s on your mind?”

“I know we decided to let the guy live, but I’m not one hundred percent that it was the right choice. I just don’t see an alternative I can live with, you know?”

Michael nodded. “Yeah, I get it. We all know you make decisions for the good of the Clan, even if it’s just because that’s the same thing as being good for your family. In all this shit coming down outside our farm, we all are the Clan, we have to be. And the Clan is us. Just how it has to be. I support your decision, Cassy. Even if I have my doubts, too.”

Cassy smiled at him. He was a good man, that was damn sure. Thank God they had a warrior like him, instead of some bullet-happy Rambo type. “Good to know. I appreciate the trust. But, I want you to make sure we keep an eye on this guy, too. If it looks like he’s going to make a break for it, or betray us in some way, your job is to protect the Clan. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

Michael looked at her for a couple seconds, but she couldn’t read his face. Then he nodded. “Yeah, I was going to do that anyway. Keep an eye on him, that is. I can’t help it, but I don’t trust people who look like the enemy.”

Cassy shook his hand and thanked him, then watched him leave. She hoped she’d made the right choice. If Chihun really was one of the invaders, then the Clan now had a wolf among them. She expected that sleep would not come easily that night.

* * *

1200 HOURS - ZERO DAY +20

The New York cityscape rose up to either side, and Taggart was on high alert. His eyes darted to every corner, alley, car, and window they passed, looking for danger. “Eagan, get a status check on both our squads, then report back. We’re ten blocks from that camp, and I want us wired tight before we engage these cannibal bastards. This is their turf, and they probably know it well. We can expect harassment and ambush, if they see us coming because some Militiaman is out of place.”

Eagan nodded once and ran off leaving Taggart with his thoughts. Two of Black’s gangbangers had gone missing that morning, and the soldiers Taggart sent to find them reported back with gruesome news. They found the gangbangers’ bodies, or what was left of them. They’d been butchered, biggest chunks of meat cut away and missing, and their weapons had been taken too.