It Was 2052 (10 page)

“Good Night-ht,” double voices as they passed him and went up the stairs. He could hear their whispered talk for a flight or two.

Out into the night air, the moonlight was dim and the traffic, foot and vehicle was close to none. It really wasn't the wisest move to be out on the streets after midnight. He stayed on his side of the street until he drew closer to the Luciano Village. Remembering the small space that Anissa had emerged from the day he met her, he crossed the street and searched for that narrow opening.  He felt that he could barely walk down the tunnel without turning sideways and when a rat skittered by, it brushed his pant leg.  At the end of the walk, the back of the building, he stopped and looked around. He anticipated to perhaps see a guard at the back entrance, saw no one. In front of him was the large metal building and huddled beside it, he could make out the outline of a small structure. 

Jackson moved behind the building, which was vine covered and dark, he still saw no one. He turned on his small beam and located the door, then put it away. He turned the rusty knob,  pushed and stood in the opening. Not visible from the outside, a candle flickered on an old table in the center of the room. His heart pounded and he closed the door behind him, hesitant to call her name. From the inky interior, a small hand touched his arm and slid down to grasp his hand. “Jackson,” the voice softly said. He could feel the shaking of her hand, pulled her in close to him and wrapped his arms around her, kissed the soft dark hair.

Anissa led him over to an old upholstered chair near the table, he sat and pulled her into his lap. “I'm so glad you came,” her palm touched the side of his cheek.

“Are you safe?  Do you think you were followed?”  he turned his head to kiss the palm.

“I'm good. There are some guards after midnight. They're mostly bored, it gets pretty quite through the night.  There's a small door that opens into the narrow space between the buildings. You don't really see it from the alley.  It's in a closet under the stairs, on the lower floor and no one knows of it. I will need to return well before dawn. Do you have a watch?”

He looked down at his wrist, “Yes, I do. How did you find it, the secret door?” he said.

“Lee's father, he knew of it. I don't really know how. He took great pride in sneaking in and out of it.”

“Good for him,” he said with a smile. More than anything he had ever wanted, he wanted to explore and get to know every inch of her. Young men are not well suited to patience and abstinence. He reached up, pulled those beautiful lips from the ad onto his, kissed her with long saved passion. With every bit of control he could manage, he said, “We have to talk about some things. Unfortunately, as long as you are so close, it's hard to think.”  As much as he wanted her, he did not want this to be the end of their relationship. It was imperative that he keep her safe and that they worked together to get her permanently away from danger. He gently spun her into the shabby chair and looked for something to bring to the table for himself to sit on.

On an old stool, he sat across from her and the candle often illuminated the fear in her big eyes as he told her the things he knew about Dr. Pendelton and about the Network. He hadn't been informed at that time about the farm. Later when he was and passed it along to her, he gave her the answer she had feared about what happened to the girls that were not profitable enough.

Even the information that he told her on that first middle of the night rendevous had her more frightened and more determined to help the alliance all she could. Anissa knew she had to get her family away from the Network operations.  “He's even more of a monster than I thought,” she said with a shudder. “That hulking goon that I've seen lately must be one of his super soldiers.”

They talked of so many things that night. Things of their past, things of the present and things that might be the future. He looked down at his watch, “It will be dawn in about thirty minutes. You better get back in.”

She stood and stretched, wrapped her arms around his waist and drew close, “We won't always have so much to talk about.  Maybe next time,” she looked up into his sleepy eyes.

One more kiss, “I certainly won't be able to get that thought from my mind.”

He accepted her last warning, “Be careful. The guard is lazy, likes to just doze in a chair by the back door. He does step out to pee occasionally.” He watched as she disappeared between the buildings and held back for a while to be sure there were no stray guards around. He eased down the tunnel, crossed the quiet street.

A taxi crept up beside him, above the clattering engine, a gruff voice raised, “Hey, got an early appointment? Need a ride?”

“No thanks, nearly home,” he said and noticed that more cars crawled on the street and a few people were beginning to move along the sidewalks in the first hint of light. Taking two steps at a time, he encountered old Pendelton coming out of the entrance to the second level.

His way was blocked by the doctor, “You're up early, or is it out late?”

“Early repair work,” he said. “Just wanted to clean up before breakfast.” He pushed past the old man and continued up the stairs. He nearly repeated the lie from the previous night but stopped himself. He wasn't sure if the old man still was absent from the market or might ask his wife if repairs were being made. Shortly, he stood in the shower, barely able to keep his eyes open. Planned to get at least two or three hours of sleep before the work day.

***

Sharon looked down at the small brass plate that read
Colonel Sharon Langford,
got out of her chair, walked around the desk and paced.  The office was sparsely furnished with her personal things. No smiling pictures of friends, husband or children.  She desperately wished she had a large window to peer out of.  The outdoors was a love for her. She was athletic as a young person, a fast runner and she enjoyed being outside and pursuing sports of various kinds. After the world changed, she was eventually relegated to this hole in the ground and she rarely got to venture out. 

Pre-occupied and concerned with this blossoming threat to her country, she made a decision. Her slim but strong hands smoothed down her uniform and she moved towards the door.
I'm getting out of this damn hole for a while, going outside.
Of course, she couldn't just wander around and not inform of her whereabouts.  She leaned on the desk that sat outside her office and said into the surprised face of the woman behind the desk, “Kay, I'm going outside for a little while. Taking a walk down to the lake. Will you please locate the driver and tell him to bring the car over to the lake in about an hour and pick me up?”  The driver, Bud's beer drinking friend was someone she trusted and they often discussed the events that were forming around them.

“Yes mam,” smiled the woman.

Exiting through security, the guard accompanied her. He opened the hidden door, saluted and pulled the bookcase back over the entrance behind her.  The sensible shoes polished to a sheen beneath her tailored trousers echoed across the floor of the old cluttered barracks. When she reached the outside, the filtered sunlight glowed across her face, she inhaled deeply.  Removing her jacket and deciding to fold it and leave it inside the door, she unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt. The heavy sidearm secured, she briskly walked across the tarmack toward the back gate. The code allowed her to exit and after just a few steps she was in thick tall grass. She breathed in again and followed a path beat down by many feet, both animal and human towards the shore of the lake.

Her private thoughts, her own memories floated through her head. The military and even more so the catastrophic event had cost her the price of being alone. It was just the way it was and she had become accustomed.  On occasion, she permitted herself to think of the young man she had been in love with before the disaster.  She was a captain in the service at that time, had sacrificed a lot to get there, worked hard.  Even though the military was changing, adapting to a degree, it was still not the friendliest or easiest position for a women to be in. Then, the sh-t hit the fan.  Her young man did not survive the chaos that eventually followed. 

Sharon toughed it out, stayed with the military, served her government. She had no family left to go to.  There had been massive emergency plans to preserve the government, to preserve some of humanity. However, the scope of the pandemonium, the long term effects of world wide disaster on the general populace had not been prepared for. In the disarray, there were no elections and now, thirty five years later, the country was being led by the Secretary of Defense, the person well down in the line of succession to become president. Society and the country's armies had fell apart. Ironically, the situation had moved Sharon up to her rank of Colonel. She thought that even though the SOD was quite old now himself, in the current threatening atmosphere he might be the very one to be leading. She felt certain that they were moving quickly toward a confrontation, a battle for America that would need a strong military front and leaders with military experience.

The Congress, the legislators no longer represented all the States of America. The surviving members as well as their offspring, other members of the original government and some of the military struggled to preserve some semblance of the Constitution and restore the country. The Colonel had become consumed with building an army that could defeat the Network.

The faded car slowly eased across the field toward the lake shore, it's wide tires crushed down the spindly wild grasses. Sharon had taken off her shoes, her bare toes wiggled in the cool water. She sat on the sandy bank, her perfect trousers rolled up, her bottom getting wet and dirty.  She smiled as the driver exited the car and walked toward her. He stood next to her and saluted, “Mam.”

Her hand shaded her eyes and she laughed, “You don't have to do that, you know.”

The driver bent down and kissed her cheek, “Yes, I do.”

She sighed, “You're a good man and a good friend. Will you sit for a while? I'll need to get back soon.” She patted the tan grainy ground.

He stood for a moment, “How about the car? It's kinda
wet
here.” He grinned and looked at her clothes and bare feet.

She reluctantly agreed and they walked to the car, left the doors swung open and sat looking out at the sparkling water that reflected the muted color of the sky.  They talked as usual about the impending battle, discussed the new allies that had gathered some pretty good information about the Network.  He had a cigarette, she shared a few puffs with him. Always too disciplined to allow herself to have the habit, a drag or two on occasion and a good shot of bourbon did call to her. 

“I'm hoping the woman---Anissa, is it?  Hoping she will be a good source of intel for us,” she exhaled curling smoke.

“Possibly. She's in a damn dangerous spot,” he said.

“I've been thinking that we need to have a meeting with the allies.  It would probably be far too risky to try to bring them to the bunker.  Perhaps there's a place in the Villages that you and I could meet up with them.  Would you explore some possibilities for me?”

“Sure. Oughta be able to come up with something.”

The cigarette got crushed into the sand. She turned, reached across and put her hand on his cheek. “If only I was a bit younger, mister.”  Actually, she was only about five years older than the driver, most days felt a lot older.  More important, he was a good friend. She didn't want to risk screwing that up in any way.  She swung her legs out of the open car door, brushed off her feet and started to put her shoes back on.

Behind her, the man quietly said, “You're not old, Sharon, just afraid to let yourself have any pleasure.”

Her feet swung into the car, the door slammed. She didn't look at him, “You're right---I might like it too much.” The engine started, “Got to get moving,” she said.

As she walked across to her office, Kay's mouth dropped open a bit. Even though Colonel Sharon was all buttoned up and wearing her jacket again, dark curls snaked out of her normal sleek coiffure and the rear of her trousers was circled wet nearly to the knees. “Good Lord, Mam, did you fall in?”

“Wouldn't you like to know?” she said, laughing as she closed the office door in the woman's face.

Chapter Seven

Secrets and Strategy

The bus was years past it's original hulking glory, grime and faded paint left the sleek figure of the sprinting greyhound barely visible, it rolled along the familiar daily route. Miles and miles of repetition, days and days of traveling the same roads made it seem to automatically follow every section of worn and cracked pavement. The driver just whistled a tune as the ill maintained vehicle leaned precariously into sharp turns and never missed an opportunity to hit a pothole square on.

About a dozen riders bounced along today.  Jackson and Eric sat near the front, directly behind the driver. The day before, Jackson had talked to the mayor, “I heard this guy talking about a good source of corn, south of town. I think that we might purchase some of the crop for the brewery at a cheaper price than we're now paying. If you agree, I think I'll take Eric with me and we'll ride the city bus out that way, check it out.”  The mayor, always mindful of his business and his bottom line, liked the idea and gave his approval.  The employee would have to figure out later, how to further lie to his boss and tell him the corn was not acceptable.  This excursion was not about corn.

The spotty mirror above the driver showed the scattered riders behind.  Jackson looked up and tried to see the man sitting in the very back. The man nearly hidden behind the other passengers, smoked a cigarette and had a knit cap pulled down tight on his scraggly hair.  Ninety-nine percent certain, it was the street thug from the Villages.  The scum that he now knew, from questioning Anissa about the ugly circular scar on her hand, had used the cigarette like a weapon on her.  Was it just a coincidence that he was on the bus?  He thought not. He had quit going to the park on Thursdays, as Anissa asked. He still often met John, Mamie and Bud there. Had they fell under suspicion? He would see when they reached their stop. Was his ID correct and would the rider get off with them?

He looked over at his friend, tried to get it set in his head the right way to approach what he needed to talk to him about.  Two days prior to the planning of this trip, he talked the others into bringing Eric and Rose into the alliance. John was extremely protective of his niece. Jackson's repeated argument, however, stating that with the growing threat the pair were more in danger not knowing about the activities,  finally convinced his fellow spies.  None of them had any doubt about where the couple's loyalties would lie. After Bud had discussed their inclusion with the Colonel, it was agreed that they would be recruited and briefed. Jackson had requested to talk to Eric first. Rose completely trusted Eric and her uncle John. The two men could explain things to her later.

The Colonel had requested that Jackson and Eric come to the bunker to meet with her. Explaining to Bud, “These men are young, I don't know that either one of them has had any real experience with combat type situations. We need young able men, I would like to see them get a bit of training.  I also want to hear for myself that they understand the gravity of the situation that is developing and their commitment to eliminating the Network.”

Bud had answered, “I understand.  I do know that Jackson came from a small community where his great grandfather made a stand with his family. The true battles for survival were much more common in the first two decades following the disaster. You're right, the young man probably was not alive when the worst of things occurred.  Same for Eric, he grew up on more or less a family farm compound.” He looked at her and smiled, “Unlike, us
older folks,
who lived through those times.”

“I fear these wars with the Network will bring all that back to us in full force.
We need everyone we can get on our side.” Her smile was faint. “Get the young men out here, so I can meet them. I've already asked the driver to find a secure place in the Villages that he thinks we could all meet and discuss some strategies. Seems it would be safer than all of you trying to come here at one time.  He will let you know when and where.”

That is how Jackson and Eric came to be exiting the bus on this morning. Eric thinking they were on a buying trip for the mayor and his friend looking nervously over his shoulder.  The two friends stayed seated and let several of the passengers pass by, the thug was one of them. Jackson rose and watched him step down from the bus, take a sharp turn right and walk purposefully away.  He and Eric were the last to exit, three riders entered the bus and it pulled away.  They stood for a while, he couldn't see the thug anywhere around.
Maybe, the man had a reason to be here and I'm just paranoid.

Eric twisted, stretched his back and straightened, “Damn! What a bone crusher that thing is. I've ridden bucking horses that were easier to sit on.”  He shaded his eyes from the dull glare and looked around,  “Hey man, I don't see any corn around here.  Are you sure you know where you're going?”

“Yeah, I got it.” He started walking and Eric fell in step. Jackson looked back over his shoulder one more time, still no sign of the thug.  “We'll walk for a little ways and meet a ride.”

They had walked for about twenty minutes. Before they reached the landmark and the driver picked them up, he wanted to stop and talk to Eric.  “Let's stop here for a minute,” said Jackson. He looked behind them along the grown up highway. 
Was that a glimpse of someone?
He got a bottle of water from his pack, took a drink and handed it to his friend.  “Wait here.  I need to take a little trip into the woods.” 

The tall lean man leaned back on his elbows and waited. It was quiet, sparsely populated out here away from even the communities that spotted around the metro Villages. Then he heard noises coming from the trees behind him.  He got up, his long legs took wide strides through the grass, he entered the woods where he had watched Jackson step into the brush.  The sounds of curses and scuffling became louder. With his hand on his gun, he hurried toward the racket. In a small clearing amidst the trees, he burst onto the scene of his friend and the street thug rolling on the ground. A cigarette smouldered in the dry leaves, he stomped it out and tried to get to a position of assisting his pal.

Jackson stood up, grabbed the thug and slammed him against the tree.  “Why are you following me, you slime?” he beat the man's head against the rough bark again. Blood dripped from the man's mouth and nose, he just laughed and snatched a knife from his waist. In one quick movement he brought up the knife, slashed across the young mans stomach.  An instant streak of blood stained Jackson's split shirt and he moved back a step. The thug raised the knife and lunged forward.  The loud pistol shot echoed through the thick trees, with a surprised look on his face the thug thudded to the ground. Eric moved closer, kicked his target aside, holstered his pistol and looked to his injured friend.

“Damn, Jack---how bad are you hurt?” 

Jackson looked at his friend and at the man on the ground, a hole in his knitted cap and head. “I think it's not deep, not bad.  Thanks bud, I'm afraid the thug's injury is terminal.” He actually smiled at Eric. “Let's get away from here.”

They moved out of the woods. Eric said, “Hey, we got to get you some help. It may not be bad, you still need some aid.”

“Look in my pack and get some antiseptic out.” He sat down and leaned against a rock.

While Eric was busy pouring the stinging liquid across his belly, he said, “Did you know that guy? He looked like that scum the Sheriff ran off on the street. Why was he lurking around?”

“He was that same guy,” said Jackson when he got his breath back from the firey splash of medicine. “I'll explain. I've got a lot of things to explain to you. First, we have to get about ten more minutes down the road. There's going to be someone waiting for us.”

Eric looked confused but helped him up and they started back down the road. Before they reached the rock outcropping, they spotted the old green car idling on the side of the deserted highway, the smoky exhaust fumes trailing into the air. He leaned down into the open window, “I'm Jackson and this is Eric.”

The man said, “Get in, I'm Driver.” When Jackson eased into the seat, the injury was obvious, “Are you injured, what happened?” Eric pulled open the back sedan door and plopped into the seat, the car remained still.

“It was that piece of s--t thug, the one that works for the Sheriff. You know him? The one that burned Anissa. He was following us,” said Jackson.

Eric said, “Wait---wait, what the frick is going on?  What are you talking about? Who is Anissa?” He was leaning over the front bench seat and shooting questions out at them.

Driver looked around and said, “Where is he? Where did this happen?”

Jackson leaned his head back on the seat, “It happened about a half mile back. Trust me, the man is dead. Thanks to Eric. He must've been alone.”  He looked at his friend's baffled face, “I'm sorry. I stopped so that I could fill you in about all this.”

The driver pulled up the slashed shirt and looked, “I think we better get on to the base and get that looked at.  You can brief him as we go.   I'll let the Colonel know we'll be a little late.”

“The
base
?” said Eric.

Before he started to try to explain the events of the last few weeks to his friend, he said to Driver, “Thing that bothers me is, was the thug just following me or did he know where I was going? Do they know about the bunker?”

“I'm betting not,” said Driver. “The rat's job was to slink around and find out information. Glad you spotted him and he is eliminated.”

“Wha-a-t bunker? Man, you've got to tell me what's going on.” Eric said in frustration.

As the car crawled along toward the military base, Eric still hung over the seat and Jackson started to tell his friend about the Network, about their mutual friends and about Anissa.  Driver added his collaborative information. By the time they had reached the old barracks and hidden entrance to the bunker, Eric was amazed and nearly up to date.  Driver slid the bookcase away and opened the door. The new ally said, “God, wish I had known all of this. He burned her?  Glad I shot the som-bitch.” He stopped before entering the hall and stuck his hand out to the driver, “I'm in and Rose will be, too. You just tell me what to do.”

“For the moment, let's just keep your friends guts from spilling out.” He grinned but Eric looked worried. They helped Jackson to the clinic. While he was being treated, Driver went to let the Colonel know and arrange a later meeting. The cut had slashed across Jackson's lean stomach, it wasn't deep, as he thought. It would be extremely sore, not life threatening.  

Later, the two young men sat in front of the Colonel. “How are you, son?”

“It's not serious, mam,” said Jackson.

“Want you to know that I appreciate your service. And Eric---was it? I hope you'll join us. This threat we're facing is strong and it's growing.”

“I hope I can help, mam,” said Eric.

Sharon wanted to say
not mam, just Sharon
. She didn't. These men were young and she needed to command their respect.  “It's obvious that you are capable and willing. You have relieved any concern on that count. I would like for you both to get some combat training. This incident has also made it clear that it's risky to have you coming here, it will be a necessity, however. It would be wise to  not come together in the future. I will count on your ingenuity to get away and come here with extreme caution. Eric, I will expect you to fully inform your partner and be looking for your contribution of information.”

Both men had questions and the meeting continued for about thirty more minutes. Sharon stood and offered her hand. “We will meet in the Villages, as soon as Bud and Driver can determine a safe place. You will be informed. Thanks again.”

On the trip back to the bus stop, Jackson created his lie as to why the corn trip was not successful---corn not healthy, price not cheap like he had heard, was not going to be a good purchase to make the quality bourbon that the Mayor prized. He made sure Eric knew the story. He was still full of questions, Driver and Jackson told him to get them asked and not be talking about anything but corn or the weather on the bus.  Wrapped up tight and wearing a clean shirt, the rough ride back to the Villages was quite painful. Jackson was glad to finally be back in his room that evening.

The lean young man lay across his bed, a slight burning still trailed across his stomach. He thought of Anissa, not unusual to feel the longing for her.  Would he ever really be able to have her, to make her safe and would the world let them be together? He couldn't feel one speck of remorse for the man that lay in the woods with the hole in his head. The man that hurt her and today, him. He hoped the bugs and animals feasted on his body. 

His memory drifted back to being a boy, always full of questions. Once when he stood out in the yard with a group of the men of the compound, he asked about someone that was missing from the manly gathering. “Where is he?” he said.

One of the men raised his eyebrows and looked straight at him, “Well, boy, he went to s—t and the hogs ate him.” This caused a huge outburst of laughter but he had to admit, it didn't seem funny to him, just scary. Tonight, he found himself hoping the wild hogs rooted in the woods.

As sleep found him, the vengeful thoughts were replaced with a moment of thankfulness for his friend and also sympathy for him, having to tell his Rose of all the frightening possibilities on the horizon.