The World Cowers Page 2

“I don’t know, we need to send a team over there and check. I’ll let Smith handle that when he gets his troops calmed down and explains what he has to. My God man, we have a mess,” Duncan said, his voice rising.

  The portly preacher’s color was rising, and he rubbed his shoulder.

  “Sit down,” Lisa said, noticing his discomfort, “you’re going to work yourself into a heart attack,” she cautioned.

  Duncan had been struggling with his blood pressure, and even medicated it had been dangerously high. He’d lost a lot of the weight during the ‘survival’ diet and getting a lot of exercise, but the damage to his body had accumulated over the years.

  “I…” Duncan went to the couch and sat down, closing his eyes, “We were all comfortable, ready. The threat had been eliminated. This is just too damned sudden, it happened too quick. That level of organization would take a lot of coordination and we heard nothing about it.”

  “It was unexpected, and we have to get our kids back,” Lisa said, sitting down by his side.

  “My daughter’s pregnant. I can’t…”

  “Calm down, it’s going to be fine. We’ll get them back.”

  They had all been shocked at the sudden arrival of the Apaches, hadn’t even realized there were any in the area, but then again that’s what they were known for. Fast, quiet and deadly. There had been three of them, more than enough to have leveled the Homestead.

  * * *

  “This way Sir, Ma’am.” The soldier holding them at gunpoint directed them to the open door.

  They’d landed in what appeared to be an old quarry. Kentucky was lousy with hills, rocks and coal. What had been even more surprising upon landing had been seeing a steel blast door set into the side of the wall, already sliding open from a hidden mechanism.

  “What the…” Blake said.

  “DUMB,” Sandra told him.

  “I know it’s dumb, I mean, look at it, but did you know it was here?”

  “Deep Underground Military Base?” Sandra asked the soldier.

  “Yes Ma’am, this one is part of the COOP,” he told her, using the tip of his gun to point towards the open doorway.

  “Oh boy,” Blake said, “you two so need to fill me in on this.”

  “Continuity of Operations,” Sandra told him, “Part of FEMA.”

  “I figured it meant something like that. This isn’t Greenville, that’s for sure.”

  “Yeah, we sure aren’t in Kansas anymore Toto,” Sandra told him, coming to a stop just inside the door where three soldiers had been standing, their guns pointing at them.

  “It’ll be explained to you shortly, then your debriefing and then your trial,” the soldier behind them said, the last words spat out as if he’d tasted something bad.

  “Not a fan of the Governor?” Blake asked, guessing.

  “I am one of Silverman’s former teammates,” he told them, making them both jerk their heads around and making the three soldiers standing in front of them very nervous.

  “We just saw him a week or two ago, you were with him or—“

  “I was. Listen, I don’t have time to talk, but things are really weird and I can’t explain. It’s way above my pay grade. PFC Sherman here,” he told them nodding.

  “Tank, I bet they called you Tank,” Sandra told him before turning and facing forward.

  “Good guess,” Tank whispered from behind them, and then much louder, “Prisoners Blake and Sandra Jackson, as ordered.

  “Take them to holding.”

  “What is this place exactly?” Blake asked Sandra, trying not to take his eyes off the guns in front of him.

  “A big bunker, basically.” Sandra told him quietly as they were led deeper into the rock.

  The walls looked like painted steel plates, riveted at the seams, with exposed columns and beams in the larger sections of the hall. They passed through two checkpoints inside, all manned by different sets of guards. Eventually, without passing anyone else, they came to a room with keycard access. With a start, Blake realized the thing that had been bugging him but he couldn’t figure out… it was the un-natural light. It’d been months since the EMP and he hadn’t seen lights. These guys had power, and things worked.

  The door opened, and they were ushered inside. Four holding cells lined one wall immediately across from them, with two rooms at either end. One of them was marked as a unisex bathroom. Steel folding chairs lined one side, where a small white end table with a stack of magazines sat. A water cooler sat, humming silently while it was obviously running. Blake and Sandra had running water from Blake’s well and hot water from his low tech water heater, but cooled chilled water?

  Blake realized how much he’d taken his power for granted. He’d known up front he was going to have to make sacrifices in order to install his solar setup, but this room made things look as if nothing had happened. It was staggering.

  “In there, Ma’am,” Tank pointed to the open door to the middle cell.

  Blake noticed a sleeping form on the far end, in the last cell, next to the unmarked door.

  “You’re in here Sir,” Blake was motioned into a cell next to Sandra’s, and he stepped in.

  “But why can’t I—“

  “Sorry Sir, orders. Someone will be with you shortly,” PFC Sherman turned and left the room, followed by the three guards who’d helped escort them the entire way.

  “Well isn’t this some shit,” the sleeping form said, a thin blanket falling away.

  Silverman sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes and looked at the pair of them.

  “Sgt. Silverman?” Sandra asked.

  3

  “I can hardly wait for this trial to start,” Davis said, running his thick meaty hands together as his assistant Pamela fretted over his notes.

  “Mr. Davis, it’s a mockery of a trial. They plainly sent men to kill you. Even played rock music over the radio waves as they shelled the town,” Pamela said.

  “The school command post,” Davis corrected her.

  “Luckily we were already out of the area. I’m glad some of your men stayed loyal,” she said.

  In truth, she was glad because she’d been assigned to him and it had been one of the only things keeping her safe, as long as she could keep him away from her bed. He’d hinted and outright asked once, but she was hearing rumors. There wasn’t any way she’d been hungry or desperate enough to cave in like so many of the others had.

  “Yes, as soon as we’re through with these hicks, I’ll use the time I have the Apaches on loan to quell the riots in Louisville. A show of force, like we did at the Homestead, will go a long way to making sure things look legitimate and on the up and up.”

  “Do you expect the trial to go rather quickly?” Pamela asked.

  “Sure, it was broadcast live, over our own airwaves and the publics. They blasted the damned music while keeping their tactical nets going. There’s no denying it. I just wish we’d been able to capture Sandra like we’d tried. We lost some damned good men that day, before they used our own government’s artillery on us.”

  “Why was it important to capture her? You never were clear on that, Sir.”

  “Because,” Davis said, using a monogrammed handkerchief to wipe his sweaty bow, “She’s the brains of the group. What they did to us was all brute force, no cunning. It was the worst embarrassment I’ve ever had, even trumping the first encounter with them,” Davis told her, his voice rising in anger at the end, “If it had been her running that operation, she would have had me killed. I’m sure of it.”

  “Well, very soon you can confront them in front of the panel, and let your position be known. But Sir… There is another matter, something for the trial…” Pamela said, her words trailing off.

  “Yes?” Davis asked, confused at her tone and change in demeanor.

  “Your character is going to be called into question. The way you were micromanaging Sgt. Silverman’s units before their defections and the rumors of what goes on…” Pamela hesitated and swallowed dow
n a big lump that was forming in her throat.

  “A rumor of what?” Davis asked her, noticing her shift in attitude.

  Fear? Was she afraid to speak her mind?

  “It’s just that… There are rumors of your improprieties circulating. Sir.” Pamela said, scared she’d gone too far.

  “He had to have heard of them,” she thought to herself.

  “Improprieties? You mean the angry husband who’s been shouting threats because his wife visited me? I didn’t know she was married.”

  “It’s the circumstances of hers were unfortunate. Apparently the husband is claiming she traded you… uh… well, for antibiotics for her children that were sick.”

  “There was no trading involved there,” Davis said, “She came on to me and that’s that. When she told me her kids were sick, I made sure she had access to the medical technicians that were part of the guard unit. Nobody wants to see sick kids dying for lack of a dollars’ worth of penicillin.”

  “Sir, if this were the only case—“

  “Pamela, why are you trying my patience? Aren’t I good to you?” Davis asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

  “Sir, I—“

  “You know, you being my personal assistant means that you’ve lived in a comfortable lifestyle while others in our country have not. It’s very possible that without me, you’d be out there, alone. A part of the unwashed masses, scrambling for food, doing what you need to do to survive,” Davis said, taking a drink of a diet coke.

  The condensation coming off the can distracted Pam’s eyes. She hadn’t been afforded the luxury of a pop in a long while, yet Davis seemed to have a stash that he’d guarded jealously.

  “I suppose you’re right,” she said softly, not sure if that was a veiled threat.

  “Oh I know it. You never know, without me,” he rose and walked behind her, dropping his hands on her shoulders, moving her long black hair off her left shoulder, “you would probably be out there alone, doing a lot of whatever you had to do to survive. Maybe you should be nicer and more appreciative. You’re on my side here,” Davis said, his hand rubbing circles over her shoulder and slowly down the front—

  “Sir,” she said, sliding her chair back, hitting the Governor in the ample stomach he sported.

  She leapt to her feet, taking a few steps back, getting space between Davis and herself. He hadn’t gone too far, but only by a small hair’s breadth.

  “I’m sorry Pamela. I didn’t mean that to… well… you and I have been so close for months. I can’t help if I’m somewhat attracted to you. You don’t have a husband or boyfriend. I do apologize, I thought that it was because you’d—“

  “Sir, I’m sorry, but I don’t like you like that.”

  “Then it was a mistake on my part,” Davis said, sitting back down and downing the remaining Coke in one long swallow.

  “A mistake, Sir?” she asked, her voice going soft now that he’d given her a plausible excuse.

  She halfway believed him, too. She wasn’t attracted to the man, not one bit. She’d appreciated the relative safety that being his assistant allowed, but warming his bed was not in her job description - and it would never be.

  “Yes, a mistake. I thought you were ready. After this trial is done and we get the State back in order, I’m going to need a strong woman at my side. I was rather hoping that woman would be you.”

  “A strong woman at his side?” she thought to herself, “wasn’t she already on his side? Just not the bedside.”

  “Perhaps, Sir. I must get ready, your general counsel will be sitting in on this meeting or trial. He’ll be there already, if I know him.”

  “Don’t you worry,” Davis told her, “I’ve got the President’s backing. We were old schoolmates and I, of course, run the state by his graces and wishes.”

  “I’m not worried, Sir. I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough.” Pamela told him, stepping around him and getting to the doorway.

  “Oh, I’ll take it seriously. In that thought, give my offer some thought. I’d like for you to seriously consider my offer. A woman like you at my side would have all the comforts of a normal life, or one much, much better.” Davis said, giving her his best politician’s smile.

  “I’ll consider it, Sir,” she said and left the room.

  “Idiot,” she told the empty corridor, her body breaking out in delayed gooseflesh after his hands had touched the skin of her neck.

  The contact had revolted her and, though he hadn’t come out and said anything that could be misconstrued as improper, the threat was implied, and she could feel the pressure of his offer.

  “No way,” she murmured to herself, “not this girl.”

  4

  “What… how?” Blake asked him, sitting on the cot that ran through the back of each of the cells.

  There was one empty cell between them, but they were less than ten feet apart.

  “They came in yesterday. We’d been ordered to stand down. The orders didn’t come from Davis, but higher up the chain of command.”

  “They just came out of the woodwork? Just like that?” Sandra asked, shocked that it had happened and they hadn’t overheard it over the radio chatter.

  “Helicopters. They have been pretty accommodating actually. The guards will be in every few hours to let me use the restroom or bring food. It’s just damned boring in here.”

  “How didn’t we hear any of it? Why didn’t you alert us?” Blake asked.

  “Happened so quickly, we were ordered to radio silence. When my old CO stepped off the Huey, I knew I was in trouble.”

  “Did you hear the President’s announcement?” Sandra asked.

  “Yeah, they piped it in here a couple hours ago. I guess we’re the dissidents that attacked a government leader?”

  “Yeah,” Blake said, “but you weren’t a part of that.”

  “Oh bull, I led two teams and families away from the chaos. We talked about this, man. It’s treason or dereliction of duty for doing what I did, knowing what was going to happen.”

  “You were following your oath, not some delusions from a sweaty old man,” Sandra reminded him, “He wasn’t even military. He micromanaged everything you guys were doing—“

  “Getting men killed. Thankfully it was the mercs he sent. Otherwise it would have been worse on you guys,” Silverman said, standing and stretching.

  “Depends on who you ask,” Blake said quietly, “it was a slaughter. Nobody can keep doing that and not be affected. Nobody good that is.”

  “I know, but sooner or later, he’s going to run out of cannon fodder, or the rest of the men are going to do what we did. Get out of the way. Nobody wants to die for no good reason.”

  “Is there ever a good reason to die?” Blake asked him, and was shocked when it was Sandra who responded.

  “You don’t die for a reason, you die for your brothers and sisters in arms. When you’re ‘in the shit’, you don’t worry about your oath, your rules and regs, not even the rules of engagement. You’re fighting so your buddy next to you doesn’t bite it. He’s fighting so you don’t get killed. It’s complicated and weird. Hive mind type of stuff.” Sandra said.

  “Wow,” Blake said softly.

  “Oh look, it’s time for the party to start,” Silverman said, smiling.

  The door they’d been led through opened and a slightly built man walked in. He wasn’t in uniform, but a charcoal gray suit. His dark hair was parted on the left side and his glasses looked like the blocky black framed ones that were popular in an older era. When PFC Sherman accompanied him into the room, Blake lost it and started to laugh.

  “What are you doing?” Sandra asked out of the side of her mouth, moving closer to her right, to be nearer Blake.

  “Who does that guy look like?” Blake asked, between the unmanly giggles.

  “Somebody important,” she growled.

  The man stopped in front of Blake, smiling deeply.

  “I am rather curious,” the man sa
id, a heavily accented Texas drawl, “what it is that amuses you so?”

  “Don’t,” Sandra said, loudly this time.

  “It’s just that—“

  “Blake,” she almost shouted.

  The man turned and held up a hand, as if to beg her a moment.

  “I am curious, merely to see if his sense of humor matches mine,” he turned to Blake.

  “It’s just that with Sherman there, and you… you must be Mr. Peabody?” Blake asked and Silverman let out a surprised guffaw before stopping himself.

  Blake stole a glance over to Sandra whose eyes had gone wide and then they all lost it and laughed. Surprising everyone, Mr. Peabody joined in as well, until he took the black-framed glasses off and cleaned them on his white shirt.

  “That’s what I thought. My glasses got broke early on in the event, and I was issued these. I think they’re to be used on people that want to become poster children for abstinence.” They all lost it then, with his admission.

  Silverman sat down on his cot, wiping his eyes and Blake smiled, starting to get himself under control. In the world where there wasn’t much to laugh about, the rare instances where you did, you let it out.

  “Now listen here,” he said, the word here almost coming out “hea”, “I’m told you three are to go in front of a military tribunal. It’s not actually that, it’s a panel of five. I’m supposed to be representing you all, “ he said, but you could hear the y’all in his voice, “and things aren’t as usual or ordinary as I’d like them to be. First things first. My name’s Martin Cates, like the woman’s name Kate with an S on the end of it.”

  “Mister Cates,” Blake said, sticking his hand out between the bars to shake.

  He noticed that of everyone in the room, PFC Sherman was the only one who’d kept his composure.

  “Mr. Jackson. Missus Jackson,” he said moving over one to take her hand in both of his, not in a handshake, but one hand over the other before dropping the grip and moving down to Silverman.

  “Sgt. Silverman,” he said, giving the man a shake.

  “Sir,” Silverman replied.