United States Of Apocalypse (21 page)

“I am slightly overdressed,” he said as he looked at everyone. He didn’t know much about military life, but he was sure that the decorum had lapsed severely. Most had no hats on, some had cut their pants into shorts, some only had on their olive drab t-shirts and various pants, almost no one had on a camo top. He was afraid that by trying to blend in he was consequently sticking out like a sore thumb.

“A little help!” a soldier shouted when a ball rolled toward Mike’s feet. Mike bent and picked up the ball. He gasped when he saw a soldier running toward him. It wasn’t so much the man coming for the ball as it was the small family sitting off to the side watching the match.

Mike’s attention came back when the man clapped. “Come on man, give it up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mike said, lightly tossing the ball back. Mike wondered what Tynes would do if he saw that this place was full of women and children. “Hey, where’s the commander of this place?”

“Fucking noob,” the man said, catching the ball. “Are you from the Buffalo 26th?”

“Sure.” Mike thought he saw questions race across the man’s visage, but he was being pressured to return to the game. “Should be in his office over there.” The man pointed and bounded off.

What’s the plan, Mike? Well, I don’t really have one but I have fifty yards to come up with one.
Kids were screeching as they played tag or shot fake guns at each other. A small class of middle-school-aged children were sitting under a tree with a female soldier who was reading them a book. Whatever it was, they seemed rapt. He caught one of the questions from a student as he passed by.

“So, the Progerians are the ruling class?” the young boy asked.

“That’s right Tommy,” the woman beamed.

“God, she’s beautiful.” Mike was staring; her stunning blue-green eyes were framed in a shock of red hair that illuminated the freckles lining her nose.

“You should take a picture, it would last longer!” one of the girls giggled, pointing to Mike. The entire class turned to look at Mike, whose face was burgeoning into a bright red.

“Ma’am,” he said, tilting his hat and moving away quickly.

Mike expected a bevy of guards and security measures when all he needed to do was knock on the door marked “commander.” He thought for sure no one would be inside.

“Enter!” came an authoritative voice. Mike stepped in to see a fit man in his early fifties sitting behind a desk, his salt and pepper hair closely cropped to his head, his uniform immaculately pressed. “A corporal in my beloved Guard should know enough to not be donning his cover indoors.”

Mike looked at him strangely. “Your hat son, take your damned hat off.”

“Oh, right. Sorry sir.”

“Well, I’m a busy man. Just because I have an open door policy doesn’t mean I really like to have it open.”

Mike turned and closed the door.

“That’s not really what I meant.” His eyes grew wide for a split second as he noticed the gun Mike had out but then they quickly calmed. “Well, make your point.”

“I’m in a bit of a mess, sir.”

“We can work this out.”

“I hope so, but I’m not seeing the way.”

“You obviously came here with an agenda. Why don’t you tell me, and we’ll see what we can do.”

“This conversation needs to start off with me and my friend not getting shot.”

“What would necessitate your getting shot?”

Mike suddenly came clean to the commander. How they were on a quest for food and got mixed up with Pembroke and now there was a force of men right this very minute under the supply warehouse along with a small army heading this way to take the compound by force. Colonel Benford began to rise.

“I need some assurances, Colonel, before I can let you go.”

“Let me go? There is an imminent invasion, soldier. I need to get my men in place. What are you prepared to do if I don’t give you what you want?”

Mike eased the trigger back. “I’m not dying in front of a firing squad.”

“You kill me, you kill all those people out there. You’ve obviously got a conscience or you wouldn’t have sought me out.”

“Sir, Colonel, Officer Tynes and I were just trying to get some food for our neighborhood; we’re on the brink of starving. We have no desire to be part of, or witness to, any battles or murders. We got pulled into something much bigger than we bargained for. I’m asking you for a way out.”

“Too late, son. I know this Pembroke fellow. He’s not going to back down. We had word he was looking to attack. Just didn’t figure it would be so soon or that he would come upon an alternate means to gain entry. So, you say they’re waiting on you for a ladder or a rope?”

“That’s right, sir.”

“What’s changed your mind about what you’re doing here?”

“Kids, and, err, teachers, sir. I didn’t think there’d be any, figured it would be a bunch of guys just running around acting all military-like. This doesn’t look like the Guard we’ve been hearing all the stories about.”

“We tried to help, son.”

“Mike, my name is Mike.”

“Mike, when the National Emergency and the curfew were put into place, that was exactly our intent: to restore order and preserve our way—everyone’s way—of life as best we could. We weren’t out there more than two days when our convoys started getting attacked. Lost more men in two weeks on the streets of New York than I did in two years in Afghanistan. It was a civil war, plain and simple, and we fought back. Breaking curfew or looting...those are execution worthy offenses under martial law; those were our orders. We did our best to not fire indiscriminately, but more and more we found that to hesitate meant risking our own lives needlessly. I tried to get federal assistance. There were vague promises, and every once in a while we’d get a few new guardsmen, but nothing like we’d hoped. We house twenty-five hundred men here and triple that in family members. We just do not have the manpower to police and patrol a city of over fourteen million. Between the gangs and marauders, we’re out-manned at least ten to one. And with each passing day, people become more desperate. If we tried to deliver this food right now, we’d come under intense fire. The supplies would be snatched by men like Pembroke and the starving population of citizenry would never see a drop of it. Some think we’re hiding out, but the truth is we’re trapped. So now the question is, what are you going to do?”

“Tynes and me walk away when this is done.”

“I can’t do that.”

Mike’s head sagged. “Tynes walks away then. I’m the one that put him in contact with Pembroke.”

“You would sacrifice yourself for your friend?”

“I would. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have made it this long.”

The colonel looked long and hard at Mike. “Done. Let’s stop this before it gets out of hand.”

Mike put the gun down. The colonel opened the door; Mike walked out.

“Sergeant Yonts, get two platoons assembled as quickly and quietly as possible.”

The woman that had been reading to her class abruptly stopped, stood, and saluted. “Yes, sir.”

“This is not a drill, I want ninety troops locked and loaded and ready for action. Meet me at warehouse three.”

The sergeant looked at Mike for a second and then went off to follow the colonel’s orders.

“You sure about this?” the colonel asked. He led Mike to a supply shed and handed him a long rope.

“None of it, Colonel, but my life is already forfeit. Double crossing Pembroke is not conducive to longevity. Plus, now he thinks he’s King of New York. I can’t see that working out well.”

“I thought the talk of his inflated ego was just that.”

“Not so much. Why the rope?” Mike asked, finally realizing he had possession of it.

“If we don’t let them up, your friend is as good as dead. Correct?”

“Correct.”

“Then we let them up.”

“Fuck, I wish I’d stayed in Boston.”

“Boston was destroyed.”

“Exactly.” Mike was more afraid than he could ever remember being, but not for himself. It was for Tynes, the families here, and maybe a little extra for the redheaded sergeant who seemed to have some strange pull on his heart.

Within three minutes, Sergeant Yonts was running toward the warehouse, ninety men and women in tow. All were fully dressed in battle gear with a full complement of weaponry. The volleyball game halted mid-strike. The soldiers turned “all business,” realizing something was going down. At a single command the spouses and kids dropped what they were doing and headed inside as they’d been taught.

“
W
hat the fuck
took you so long?!” Juicy shouted up when Mike looked down. “Couple more minutes and I was going to plug this pig’s ass.”

“You should maybe think your words through before you speak, Juicy,” Mike said as he dropped the rope down. “Hold on, let me tie this end off.” Mike ran over to the nearest shelf and began to tie a granny knot. Sergeant Yonts shook her head and came out of the shadows to tie a sailor’s knot. “All set,” Mike said down the hole.

“Get your face out of the way. I’m sick of seeing it,” Juicy said.

That’s the plan, asshat
, Mike said to himself.

Mike helped as Juicy sent two men through. He could only hope that not too many more would come before Juicy let Tynes up the rope. Mike’s relief was nearly palpable when Tynes grunted his way up twenty-fourth in line. Mike pulled his knife from its sheath.

“When I say ‘get down’, hit the deck.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Now!” Mike cut the rope with one swift slash. There was a grunt and a loud snapping as the man below broke his leg on the hard concrete floor below.

“Put your weapons down!” Sergeant Yonts ordered. Guardsmen materialized all around the insurgents.

“It’s a trap!” Chester yelled, firing his rifle.

Mike pulled Tynes to the floor, or more likely, Tynes allowed himself to fall down as the guard returned fire, immediately dropping the war movie extra wannabe who’d pulled a knife on Mike earlier. Two more men were shot before the rest dropped their guns and held their hands up.

Mike was close to the hole and could see Juicy staring back up at him.

“You’re dead!” Juicy told him before what was left of the invading force took off down the tunnel.

“Fire in the hole!” Sergeant Yonts yelled as she dropped two grenades in quick succession down the drain. Tynes rolled Mike away from the blast zone. The floor rattled as the blasts echoed through the tunnel “Get up, you two.” Mike stared down the barrel of a fully automatic M-16, smoke still drifting from the barrel after the brief firefight.

Tynes helped Mike up. Colonel Benford walked in casually as if this were something he encountered every day. Blood began to pool and flow toward the drain from the three that had died.

“Search them and throw them in the stockade.” His hands clasped behind his back, thick smoke rotated around his head from the cigar he was smoking.

Sergeant Yonts shoved Mike.

“These two stay,” the colonel told her.

“What’s going on, Mike?” Tynes’ hands were still in the air. Mike was rubbing his elbow where it had crashed down and then been driven onto the floor by the over-protective cop.

“Surprise,” Mike said weakly.

Tynes couldn’t have been more confused if he’d been dropped into a foreign city with nothing but a bag of marshmallows. Then his face dawned in recognition. “The girl, it was the girl, wasn’t it?”

Mike shrugged.

The colonel waited until Pembroke’s men were escorted out and to the stockade before turning. “Officer Tynes, I take it?” He extended his hand. Tynes took it, not knowing what else to do. “Colonel Benford.”

“Excuse me, Colonel, could someone tell me what is going on here?”

“Your friend here had a moral conflict. Or perhaps it was a hormonal one. I had not thought of that,” he mused. “But, either way, he confessed your entire situation.”

Tynes had more questions, but he felt they were on shaky ground, and he had no desire to see how rickety his footing actually was.

“Now what?” Mike asked the colonel dejectedly.

“Mike?” Tynes looked at him.

“Your friend gave himself up so that you could go free.”

“What? I didn’t ask for that.”

“Nevertheless, that is the deal that’s been struck.”

“So what happens to Mike?”

“That’s for me to worry about.”

“It’s my problem as well, Colonel. He’s sort of become a project of mine, and I hate to leave things half finished.”

“Half finished?” Mike asked.

A klaxon blared throughout the compound, halting the rest of the conversation. Mike pointed to his gun.

“We’re on the same side, at least for a little while,” he told the colonel. “You heard my good friend Juicy. He knows I flipped, and by now, so does Pembroke. We’re in this together now. I know my life is forfeit; let me go out fighting with the guard.”

The colonel nodded curtly. “You so much as spit in the wrong direction and I’ll have you drawn and quartered.”

“You still do that shit?”

“I’ll bring it back just for you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a fort to defend. I’ll send the sergeant back for you two. You do whatever she tells you to do. Billings, get ten men and watch this hole. Kenton, Riggs, you two stay here until reinforcements come then get back to your battle stations.”

Mike waited until the colonel left then went over to the shelving to grab hold of an MRE carton.

“Mike, what the hell is going on? And are you really going to do that?” he asked as Mike tore the top off. The two guards gave a quick glance over and seemed to lose interest with the petty theft.

“I’m starving, and I might be in front of a firing squad by the end of the night. I’m eating something.”

“Turning yourself in and facing a potential firing squad sounded like a good idea? Mike, come on, man. We can still get out of here.”

“Not a chance, I sealed my fate the second I walked outside and saw the kids playing.”

“Kids?”

“Well, the kids and the women watching them.”

“Women and kids, my ass. You got a look at that redhead, and before you could reel your tongue back in, your dick got you busted.”