The Dying of the Light (Book 3): Beginning (41 page)

At his side was his trusted advisor, Marjorie, her son and his friend, Darnell, and much of the command staff from the bunker, including Peltmeyer. Admiral Graves and his men from the New Atlantic Fleet had security set. The admiral had selected a handful of trusted men to hold back the crowd from the immediate area around the group. His patrols were ensuring that there would be no interruptions by anyone getting any foolish ideas. The rest of the crowd milled about and discussed the fate of their former commander-in-chief.

The men and women who sat in judgment formed a loose semicircle around Marnes and the few men and women, both military and civilian, who had remained loyal to him. Cherie, his former lover, stood just outside the ring of soldiers, focused and intent. She was pragmatic and had taken her way out from under the sleazeball while she’d had the chance. Ennis thought back to when he’d asked the girl why she’d stayed with the man so long.

“His other girls disappeared when he was done with them. I wasn’t going to go out that way.”

The president shook his head to clear it. All of that was in the past. Now was the time to move forward, and the first step was to deal with Marnes and his people. He’d thought long and hard about what to do, but Marnes had been such a terrorist that there were only a couple of solutions. He’d talked it over with Graves and, through him, the Bunker Council. All had agreed to his proposal. It was the most fitting thing for the man.

Marnes and his followers knelt in the grass and gravel to the side of the main road, their wrists secured behind them with zip-ties. Most had finished their crying, but some still sobbed. Then there was their leader, who struggled against his bonds as he tried to negotiate his way out of what was to come.

“You can’t do this,” the former president said. “You can’t do this, Ennis. For God’s sake, man, you know me!” He struggled some more against the ties, making no headway and finally slumping back. “You can’t do this. It’s illegal. It’s wrong!”

Ennis limped over while leaning heavily on a cane they’d found for him. The wheelchair was nearby, but he’d insisted on pushing himself this far. If he was going to do this, he’d do it on his feet. He looked down at the man he’d shared the White House with all those ages ago. It was impossible that this sniveling coward, this useless piece of garbage could be the same man that he’d worked with.

Back then, Marnes had been a strong man, a visionary. He’d been focused on uniting his country, and Ennis was happy to have him on the ticket. But somewhere along the way, he’d lost himself, lost that vital part of his being that had made him the man Ennis had known.

“What happened to you, Fred?” Ennis asked, once again shaking his head. “You used to be so… so different.”

“Nothing happened to me, you demented old fool!” Marnes glared up at Ennis from under his bushy eyebrows. “Only the end of the fucking world! We had to do what was right! We had to do
something
, don’t you understand? People were dying by the millions, and no one knew what to do. But I did. I knew exactly what to do, and I did it. And your pansy-ass pretenders couldn’t take it. They couldn’t make the hard calls that I had to. They wouldn’t even listen to me!”

Marnes struggled against the bonds again and again failed. “They wouldn’t listen to me. How is that my fault? If they had just listened, everything would be fine now. Dagger assured me that measures were in place to protect all of us. He told me we would be okay. He promised that we would unite the world…”

Marnes continued, but Ennis just sighed and stood back. Whatever mind the man had once had, it was long gone. He was off in his own little world now, and there was no coming back from it. Ennis hoped the man would be able to pull himself together for what was next. The president looked over at his current chief military advisor, Admiral Graves. The admiral nodded, and Ennis knew it was time.

He stood as straight as he could, and the rest of the military men who hadn’t been assigned to keep the civilians back did the same. It was the best honor guard they could come up with, given the situation. It would have to do.

“Frederick William Marnes, you are hereby relieved of all titles, honors, and rank. You have been found guilty by a court of your peers for multiple and egregious violations of every standard set for a man of your position. You have willfully and knowingly sent innocent men, women, and children to their deaths by the hundreds, if not thousands, and your inaction has consigned thousands more to violent ends.

“You have stolen or caused to have stolen, through your orders, the livelihood and property of the people of New Salisbury and the surrounding areas. Through your actions, you have prevented the civilians under your command and care from receiving proper medical treatment and prohibited their access to the free flow of information vital to their survival.”

Marnes sank into himself a little more with every word until he had collapsed onto the ground, a weeping mess.

“A court of your peers has sentenced you and those responsible for the worst of your crimes to death. Have you anything to say in your defense?”

Marnes crawled forward, his spindly, veined hand reaching out for Ennis’s boot.

“Please don’t kill me,” Marnes whispered. “Don’t kill me.”

“What about the rest of you?” Ennis asked and looked around the group for anyone who would say anything in their own defense. None would meet his gaze. “Very well. You are sentenced to death. However, it has long been in the purview of the president of the United States to pardon convicted criminals from their sentences, if he felt them worthy. Because of your former service to your country, I will offer you a commutation of your sentence: exile. You will leave the bunker, leave Pennsylvania altogether.”

A medium-sized MOLLE pack hit the gravel beside the former president, and Ennis could see it was about two-thirds full. Marnes pulled his knees under himself and leveraged himself to a standing position. One of the president’s guards moved forward, but Ennis waved him back. Marnes wobbled for a moment and then stood straight.

“In this pack are enough rations and equipment to let you survive for about two weeks, if you’re smart about it. No more. I suggest you take the pack and go while this offer stands. There are no weapons in the pack of any kind, so don’t think you’re going to take back the bunker. You’re done here.”

“You’d send me out into the wild with no protection? No weapon? What about the walkers? What if they find me?”

“Then you’ll experience the same fate as the hundreds of people you’ve murdered, and justice will be served. But at least you’ll have a chance.” Ennis stepped to one side to look at the others kneeling and restrained. “The offer goes for all of you. Leave now—right now—and you have a chance. If you choose exile, you’ll each receive a pack like his. Or stay and be executed.”

“That’s no choice at all,” one of the men, a former soldier, said. “You’re condemning us to death either way. One slow and horrible, the other quick and hopefully painless. Right?”

The president shrugged. “You have a chance, however small, with the one. With the other, you’re just gone.”

The soldier shook his head. “Forget it. You can execute my ass. I ain’t no walker bait.”

Ennis looked back at Marnes, and Marnes couldn’t or wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“The rest of you, choose. Now!” Ennis yelled, his fury barely held in check and only by the knowledge that there were so many witnesses.

Marnes reached down with a trembling hand to lift the MOLLE pack and stumbled as its weight hit him. “I choose life.”

“Good for you.” His voice held nothing but derision for the former president. “Anybody else?”

A few of the men and all the women picked up the packs that were now provided by the soldiers. Those soldiers also removed the prisoner’s wrist restraints while being covered by another soldier. All but four of the men were leaving, and those looked nervous at their choice. Ennis turned to the group leaving.

“May God have mercy on your soul. May you find the justice you so richly deserve in whatever form it takes. May your days be ones of repentance and reflection, and may you eventually find peace.” He pointed to the woods. “Leave now, and do not return.”

Only Marnes hesitated for a moment, looking back at everyone. “I did what I thought was right,” he said, barely audible. “
I did what I thought was right
!”

From the reaction of the crowd, Ennis knew that if Marnes didn’t leave, they’d tear him apart. Marnes must’ve realized it too, because he turned his back on his home for the last twenty-five years and walked into the forest. His few remaining cronies tagged along, and soon, they were gone.

Ennis walked back over to the men who’d elected to die rather than be exiled. He took a small plastic box from his pocket and showed them a collection of small white pills. “This pill has no official name,” he said, pitching his voice low so it wouldn’t carry. “It hasn’t needed one. The end result of taking it is that you will feel pretty darned good for about twenty minutes, then drift off to sleep, a sleep from which you won’t wake up. It’s the most humane option I have for you. You’ll be restrained and guarded until we’re sure you’re gone. Then you’ll be added to the reclamation tanks in the bunker. Any questions? Any changes of heart?”

The men glanced at each other, then shook their heads.

“Then we’ll do this quickly and get it over with.” He walked among the group and deposited a pill for each man in their open mouths. One of his soldiers stepped up to each man, a gloved hand over the mouth and nose of each man until they swallowed. When it was done, Ennis stepped back and spoke aloud for all to hear.

“You have chosen not to accept the clemency offered, and your sentence of death has been carried out. May God have mercy on your souls.” Ennis motioned to the men Graves had assigned for this detail. “Take them away.” The dead men walked to the back of a Humvee that would take them to the reclamation tanks at the bottom of the bunker.

Ennis turned to the assembled crowd and motioned for silence. As a skilled orator, he was able to project his voice so that most of them could hear once they’d quieted down.

“My friends, the traitors are gone, one way or the other. The long night of tyranny is over, and we can rest now and begin to rebuild our lives in support of one another. Today should not be a day of mourning or of sadness, but rather of joy and celebration. For life begins anew for not just us, but all humanity today.

“I know that most of you have spent the better part of twenty-five years inside those walls,” he said, pointing to the bunker doors, “and that you haven’t been allowed to leave, because it was ‘too dangerous on the surface.’ I know what Marnes and his people told you. But none of it is true. To show you what I mean, I’ve invited some friends of mine from the area.”

He nodded to Graves, who spoke into his shoulder mic. A moment later, dozens of vehicles from the surrounding towns arrived. Most of them were horse-drawn wagons, with the few remaining trucks alongside.

“These folks are going to take some of you back to their towns and villages—the ones that have been providing you with some of your food and supplies—and show you what the world is like now. But first—” He yelled, trying to get their attention over the growing noise from the crowd, but it had little effect. Finally, Graves and his men fired off several shots into the air, which shut everyone up quick.

“But first, I have to warn you. As changed as our world is, there are still dangers we need to be aware of. There are still walkers out there, not to mention animals come to reclaim their ancestral homelands from encroaching humans. So be careful. Stay with the soldiers assigned to your groups. Do what they say, and you’ll all be fine. Welcome home!”

The cheer from the crowd was so loud, he wanted to cover his ears, but he didn’t, because happiness like that, freedom like that, should never be curtailed.

“Sir, we’ve had a transmission from Bunker One, sir,” Graves said as he walked up. “It’s about Bunker Four. You need to hear this. It… Well, it’s bad, sir.”

“You couldn’t give me even a few minutes of happiness, Admiral?” Ennis said with a sigh. “Not five minutes?”

“No, sir, I’m afraid not.”

“All right, let’s go,” he said, climbing into the waiting Humvee to head back to the bunker. “This better be important.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Level Six—Officer’s Country
Bunker Four

The smell coming from the room was the first thing that Eden noticed as she moved down the hall. The light, cream-colored walls and the concrete flooring did little to ease her mind as her lizard-brain recognized the smell of death that permeated the hallway’s end.

Marquez had assigned her this section of the bunker to clear at random, and now she was beginning to wish she’d been elsewhere. Just what in the fuck was down here that smelled so bad? There were two doors left that she hadn’t cleared, one at the end and the other on the side. The smell was definitely coming from the side door, so she avoided that for the moment and motioned for Foretti to watch it. He nodded, and she continued down to the final door. A sign next to the door listed the room as 06-001 - Commander.

“Hunter One, Alpha Four,” she whispered. She tried to ignore the twinge in her healing arm and crouched down to rest her elbow on her knee.

“Hunter One, go ahead.”

“Commander’s barracks located, sir. And there’s some seriously fucked up smell coming from the room next door.”

“Roger. We’re working our way to you. Do you need help?”

She looked over at Foretti, and he shook his head, pointing two fingers at his eyes, then at her—he would watch her back.

“No, sir. See you when you get here. Four out.”

Eden reached up and tried the door, not surprised to find it locked. But this was an interior door, standard strength, not a security door. She could take this one without any help. Readying her weapon, she stood back and eyed the section of the door next to the handle. She bounced on the balls of her feet, once, twice, then threw her leg forward, all her weight behind the strike on the door. The lock ripped out of the door frame, and she spun to the side just in case someone inside objected to her intrusion. Foretti had her covered from down the hall too.