Eden's Hammer (3 page)

There were scores of gangs operating throughout Baton Rouge and the surrounding areas. Rex recognized these gangs as opportunities. Each gang, in order to survive, had accumulated food. Rex and his crew identified these groups, found their base locations, and moved in and took the loot, leaving just enough for the raided gang to survive. Rex didn’t kill off the gangs; he let them accumulate more food and took it again. The amount of food gathered was greater than hitting individual houses, and required less overall effort, so it was a more efficient operation.

The trick was to locate where they had hidden the food—this is where the informers came in. The gangs were generally undisciplined and cowardly. Rex’s men, by contrast, were superior in every way. Better armed, better trained, better fed and disciplined almost to a fault. Rex had trained the men similarly to the way he had been trained in the Army, instilling combat skills and discipline that he had learned in the far corners of the world. Theirs was a deadly army, quickly spreading fear throughout the region. He had a loyal cadre of forty hand-selected men, his honor guard. These were men that were given special positions and rewards and were rarely punished. They were his protection against rebellion from his troops. They were intensely loyal because of their privileges, and were uniformly feared by everyone. Rex sometimes took prisoners, occasionally recruiting the best of their lot while personally killing the rest. These were his substitute for sexual orgies, and he lusted for them as a satyr.

Rex had progressed to operating much like a rogue government. Citizens could come to him requesting favors or protection and Rex often complied, but only for a profit. He had recently begun thinking about rounding up women and prostituting them. Only his aversion to sexual matters had kept him from thinking of it sooner. They were a commodity that could be controlled and much profit made from. Another line he was working on was growing marijuana. Seeds were still frequently found, and he could use slave labor to grow and process the plants.

He already controlled the liquor market. He had recruited several men who were knowledgeable in the skill of moonshining and had them set up a distillery. Any competition he discovered was quickly crushed. His latest venture was growing crops. Food was the number one commodity on the planet. By taking over local farms and utilizing slave labor camps, he would soon be producing fresh food that he could sell at any price he demanded. Rex was creating an empire, and was evolving into an emperor. He would soon be recruiting more men, and there were plenty of men who would do whatever it took to eat. Rex’s future was looking very bright, and he was enjoying himself more than he could have ever hoped to in the pre-grid failure world.

He walked up the two flights of stairs to his floor. It was shared only by the radio operator and a guard watching the operator. Rex had discovered the operator on one of the earlier raids on individual homes. The man had a top-notch ham radio setup. Instead of letting his men rape the women and killing all of the family as usual, he saw an opportunity. Rex had the equipment and the operator moved to the third story of the mansion. The equipment was set up under the operator’s direction and the antenna was installed on the roof. The operator lived in a small bedroom with the equipment, typing reports on all the traffic he heard on an old manual typewriter. The operator’s loyalty was assured by Rex’s holding his family hostage in a nearby house. The operator’s family was provided food and water and was kept under guard at all times. Occasionally, when the operator brought in especially interesting news, he was rewarded with a short visit with his loved ones. Rex had instructed the guard to ensure that the operator didn’t make up stories in order to see his family.

January 15, afternoon

Rex was relaxing in his office after granting audience to the usual stream of informers. At three o’clock in the afternoon, the operator brought in the day’s dispatches. Rex took the typed paper from the operator and grunted, his way of dismissing the man. He settled back in his chair, putting his feet up on the desk, and began reading. There were the usual reports from around the world. Ham operators were an unusually resourceful and independent lot. Many of them had managed to scrounge up a source of electricity one way or another, usually using car batteries and inverters, and would go on the air briefly to announce and describe the local goings-on in their area. The stories were similar: mass starvation, and gang violence over food.

Third world countries had been the least affected by the huge coronal mass ejection as they had had little to no reliance on electricity before the grid went down, but raiding gangs still appeared as governments disappeared. From time to time, Rex would get news from his own area that was useful, so he kept the radio operation going around the clock. One report segment caused a stirring in his subconscious, something nasty started squirming deep in his mind. A man in Colorado was reportedly taking on a large cannibal raider gang single-handedly. Not only had he taken on the gang, but he was doing it with primitive weapons, and was apparently winning. Rex immediately wanted to know everything he could about this man. His subconscious was ringing a loud bell, and Rex never ignored those signals.

He quickly stood and went to the radio room. He told the operator, “I want everything you can find out about this Colorado mountain man, every detail there is. Get your transmitter running and question the operators out there. Track down every rumor and story you can. Report to me in detail. You get enough information, and your family will get extra food and you can spend a night with them.” He turned to the guard. “Vet everything—every report, every transmission, and the typed report.” Rex walked out, not waiting for a reply.

Twenty-four hours later, the radio operator turned in a one-page typed report. The information was still sketchy, but one fact sent wild electricity surging through Rex’s nerves: the mountain man’s name—Adrian Hunter. Rex lost focus for several minutes while he absorbed the information. His obsession blinked and came out of hibernation with a roar.

January 16, afternoon

Rex sent for the operator. “Double rations for your family for a week, and you can spend the rest of today and tonight with them. Show the guard how to operate the receiver and tell him to take notes on anything remotely related to this man, and anything else out of Colorado and Waco areas, too. Tomorrow morning, you’ll resume. From now on, the only thing I want you to concentrate on is this. I want full reports every time you get more information. Otherwise, stay by the radio. Get enough information, and you’ll get to spend more time with your family.”

It took a full week for Rex to get a reasonable idea of what Adrian was doing. During that week, a plan was forming on how to find and finally finish off his obsession. He could return to empire building later, but until he fulfilled his obsession’s demands, he knew he could never be content. Rex pulled out a road map that covered Louisiana and Texas. He had studied Adrian when they were at Fort Hood. Rex had fully intended to kill Adrian back then, but not quickly. He would torture him first, make him suffer as much as humanly possible. He had also considered torturing Adrian by killing his family before he killed Adrian himself. Using what information he could casually gather from listening to Adrian talk, he had learned that he had no parents or siblings and had been raised by an aunt and uncle. Adrian, unaware of the incredible depth of Rex’s fixation, had not guarded his talk. It didn’t take long for Rex to find out about where his aunt and uncle lived.

Rex marked the location on his map. They lived deep in the country north of Waco, on the banks of the Brazos River, so he didn’t have a specific spot to mark, but he did have a general location within fifty miles. Drawing a circle around that area, he called in his best three scouts and sent them on a mission to locate the uncle and report back to him. “Find this man, but do not let him know he’s being looked for. Do not approach him. Just find him and gather whatever information you can. I want to know if he is alive and exactly where he is. I want this information as fast as you can get there and back. Take motorcycles and fuel; ride day and night both ways. Do not attempt to use a radio to report. Do not talk to anyone whatsoever about this mission. This is top secret, and remains top secret after you get back. Do not leave anyone alive that you question. I expect you back in two weeks.” The three men saluted and left the room rapidly. They knew better than to ask questions or to come back without the information.

While waiting for the scouts to return, Rex thought through his overall plan, making changes, determining which men he would take and what equipment they would carry. He’d conceived of an approach that would motivate his men to move forward until it was too late for them to turn back. It also created a situation that would get Adrian back to his home in time for Rex to arrive and take him. Rex dreamed of how he would torture Adrian as he slowly removed his life. Rex had long planned how Adrian would suffer. He’d had a monstrously vicious plan before the grid had even dropped. The plan might still work, but if not, he could modify it to where it would be almost as good.

Smiling, he opened the small duffle bag of equipment he had previously gathered for Adrian and had brought with him back to Baton Rouge. He fondled every piece in the bag. The bag was small and tightly packed; he had kept it even though he hadn’t really thought he would ever get to use it. Now, he knew its usefulness was back.

CHAPTER 3

March 2, night

A
drian and his five former
squad mates—John, Bollinger, Isaac, Renny, and Clif—were sitting around an outdoor fire pit, sipping Roman’s homemade whisky. Adrian said, “I don’t know how he ages this so fast and gets such excellent flavor, but this would have been top shelf whisky in any place, and at any time. He did explain it to me once, but it was too technical to follow—sounded like a chemistry lesson.”

Renny said, “You got that right. This stuff is hard to believe.”

Adrian asked John, “So what’s the story? When I left, you and Jennifer had taken over Mad Jack’s place and were running it quite well. When did you move back?”

“We came back shortly after you left. Jennifer said she was needed here to take over the field hospital and run it. I had a choice: come back with her and be happy, or stay there with her and be unhappy, and you know the old saying: ‘When mama’s not happy, no one is.’ To be honest, I wasn’t enjoying being the top dog all that much. Mostly it was just a headache. Here, all I have to do is take care of Jennifer and myself—way better all around.”

“What about the rest of you guys? Ever thought of leaving and trying to get back to home?” Adrian asked.

Bollinger spoke. “We talked about it some in the beginning, but none of us thought it would do much good. We’re all so far away from our original homes that it would take months of walking to get there, and what are the odds? All of us were city boys, and you know what happened in the cities. If we did get back there, we would have just about less than zero chances of finding any surviving family, and none of us had any close family to start with. Not having close kin was why we were all in that unit—or, at least, one of the main reasons.” The other men nodded.

Isaac said, “This
is
home. It was home from the moment we walked out of that bamboo and Roman called us his sons. I’d never been called ‘son’ by anyone before, and he genuinely meant it—still does. I wouldn’t leave here; it’s home, Adrian, the home I never had. I’m married and happy and I do work I enjoy.”

Clif, who rarely spoke, chimed in. “What would we go back to? An orphanage? Foster parents who only saw me as a meal ticket? No, I’m here and staying.” Adrian was impressed by what, for Clif, was a long speech. Clif had been with Adrian the longest, had been on the most missions with him. There was a special bond between the two because of the years together and the dangers faced. He could always count on Clif to have his back and do what needed to be done. Adrian reflected, “
That’s the most he’s said at one time in years.”

Adrian replied, “You know, when I think back on it, we were more like a family than a military unit. I think that’s why Roman took to you guys so quickly. He sensed the bond we already had. Roman raised me as best I would let him after my parents died. He treated me exactly the same as he did his own children, loved me just as much. He’s truly been like a second father to me”.

Adrian shifted around to face the men more fully.

“Okay guys, we’ve apparently got some raiders headed this way. A bunch of them, maybe up to two hundred. We don’t know enough about them yet. Getting good, solid information is absolutely essential. I’m going to be organizing a fighting unit here with the men from the village and surrounding area. My first thought was to put each of you in charge of a group. It makes sense because you have the most experience. But our first priority is intel. We need detailed, rock solid intel. I trust you guys to find the raiders, scope them out, and report back what needs to be known. I can’t expect anyone else in the village to provide the in-depth quality or type of information that you guys would. You know what we need to know; anyone else would have to be trained and there isn’t time for that.

“I also considered having you guys take over the fighting groups when we have the information we need, but there’s a problem with that. I’ll be training the fighting groups while the information is coming in. That means each group will have a leader, and they’ll get used to that leader while training. Even though each of you would be ten times better at leading them, there would be a lack of that comfort the men get training together. You wouldn’t have shared the training with them, wouldn’t know what to expect from each individual, and they wouldn’t know what to expect from you.

“So what I’m thinking is that initially, you men will do the scouting. When the scouting is done, I won’t put you in charge of a group, I’ll assign each of you to two groups—maybe three, depending on how many men I can round up. To keep the group leaders from becoming jealous or resentful of you being put in charge, I’m going to call you ‘combat advisors.’ I’ll explain how we have been sent out on many missions to advise indigent combat groups, how we fought beside them and provided them with technical expertise without being in command. I believe this will prevent potential misunderstandings, and provide the best possible way of assisting them. In many ways, this really is just like those advisory missions we went on. I’ll have the confidence of knowing you’ll be in the thick of things, able to adjust the men to adapt as necessary to any given situation.

“What I don’t want to do is cause any of you to wonder why you won’t be given a military rank for this operation, or to feel slighted in any way. Everyone else will have rank—you guys won’t—but it’s you that I will be fully dependent on to bring this thing off. What do you think?”

“Bollinger, you tell him,” Clif said. Adrian smiled; that was more like the Clif he knew.

Bollinger said, “Sounds like a good plan to me. It takes everything into account, and it’s a smart move.”

Adrian waited to see if there would be any more comments. There weren’t. The men just looked steadily at him, waiting for orders. Adrian thought,
just like old times. God, I miss those days.