Under a Tell-Tale Sky: Disruption - Book 1 (27 page)

“There!” Tex pointed to white blazes on a tree, barely visible across a small open meadow.

Bill veered off the road without slowing and they bounced through a shallow drainage ditch to rumble across the meadow, trailing smoke. In seconds they plunged into the trees, following a narrow walking path through thick foliage, branches slapping against the side of the car.

“What’s ahead!”

Tex fumbled with the guidebook. “It says a small footbridge over a stream—”

The foliage opened somewhat, revealing the bridge not more than thirty feet away, a neat little structure perhaps three feet wide with handrails, the depth of the stream it crossed unknown.

“Hold on!” Bill shouted and floored the accelerator as he jerked the wheel to the right. They bounced through the shallow stream and up the other bank, back on the narrow hiking trail winding its way up a steep hillside. A hundred yards up the hill, the Toyota shuddered and died.

They sat in the sudden calm, the smells of the dying engine thick in their nostrils, the silence broken only by the tick of the overheated engine cooling for the final time.

The sound of the pickup grew behind them, then faded away to the north.

“They went past,” Bill said, relief in his voice. “Where does Tucker’s Lane go and how soon before they figure out we’re not still ahead of them?” Tex was already studying the map.

“It dead-ends about five miles up. That’s the bad news. The good news is it has at least a dozen side roads that dead-end off of it. It should take them quite some time to figure out where we gave them the slip.”

“All right, I guess we ought to grab Levi’s escape packs and get the hell out of here. Let’s do a quick check and take some extra food if we have room. But we ought to be out of here in ten minutes tops.”

“Agreed,” Tex said.

They climbed out of the SUV and did a quick inventory, adding things to the packs as they could fit them, and eight minutes later they shouldered their packs and started north.

“Just out of curiosity,” Bill said as they labored up the steep hill under the unfamiliar weight of the packs, “did you happen to notice how far it is to Maine on this friggin’ goat track?”

“Twelve hundred and one miles to Mount Katahdin,” Tex said, “but I think probably only around eleven hundred to where you’re headed.”

“Wonderful. Just friggin’ wonderful!”

Chapter Fourteen

United Blood Nation HQ

(Formerly New Hanover County Department of Social Services)

1650 Greenfield Street

Wilmington, NC

Day 15, 10:00 a.m.

Jerome Singletary fought back the pain and lifted his face from the blood-spattered road map spread in front of him.

“I CAN’T show you on the map! I’ve never been there that way, so I don’t know the way by the road.”

Kwintell Banks glared. “Then show me on the river. The river shows on the map.”

Singletary shook his head, causing more blood to escape his flattened nose and drop on the map. “It’s not the same. This here’s a road map. Where it shows the river isn’t accurate.”

Singletary had no idea if that was true, but it made no difference since he had only the vaguest idea where that asshole Levi’s camp was anyway. He did know if Banks concluded he didn’t know, or figured he could get there without help, Singletary was a dead man.

“So what you saying? We need some sort of special map?”

Singletary nodded. “A river chart. Maybe we can find one on one of the boats. I’ll help, if you let me go.”

Banks scoffed. “You know that ain’t happening.”

“Then put me with some of your men to look, or you might as well shoot me now, ‘cause you can’t beat something out of me I don’t know.”

Banks dropped his hand to his holstered pistol and glared. Singletary began to shake, fearful he’d overplayed it.

Then Banks relaxed a bit. “All right. I’ll put two soldiers on your ass, and you go look for this map. But you try to run, you gonna wish you were already dead. Understand?”

“Absolutely,” Singletary said, “but one other thing—”

Banks’ hand went back to his side. “What ‘other’ thing would that be?”

“Even when we find the chart, you need a guide. I mean, the chart will get you close, but all that riverbank looks alike. You need someone who’s been there before. And you can’t just roar up in some big-ass noisy boats, he’ll hear and maybe ambush you. You need fishing boats with electric motors so you can sneak up on him quiet like. I can help with all that stuff.”

Banks cocked an eye. “How you know so much about this? I thought you was a city boy?”

In truth, all Singletary knew was what he gleaned from eavesdropping, but that fact seemed unlikely to keep him alive.

“I learned from Levi. He wanted me to stay with ‘em on the river, but I need to get back to Baltimore. Before I left his place, he showed me everything. I know the whole setup,” Singletary lied.

“I don’t know. Special maps. Special boats. Might all be more trouble than it’s worth. Maybe I’ll just cap yo’ ass and be done with it.”

“It’s worth it, man! Levi’s got all sorts of shit! He’s real tight with them soldiers and Coast Guard guys. They was even talking about giving him some grenades.”

“Grenades? Why the hell didn’t you say something before?”

“‘Cause I’m not sure,” Singletary said, “but I am sure it’s worth your while, grenades or not. He’s got a lot of stuff there.”

Banks hesitated, then nodded to two men standing nearby. They moved to each side of Singletary, hooking him under the arms and dragging him to his feet.

“Okay,” Banks said, “you go find the stuff you need. And I hope you ain’t bullshittin’ me, ‘cause if you are …”

Relief surged through Singletary. “Don’t you worry a bit. I won’t let you down …”

But Banks had already turned his back as the two thugs dragged Singletary into the hall and started toward the door to the street, unaware their captive was already plotting his next move. He might not know where to find Levi, but he did know his chances of escape were much better on the river.

FEMA

Emergency Operations Center

Mount Weather

Near Bluemont, VA

Day 15, 10:00 a.m.

The Honorable Theodore M. Gleason, President of the United States, sipped his coffee then set the bone-china cup back into its saucer on the walnut table. He was the only occupant of the well-appointed conference room. He wore khaki trousers and an open collar golf shirt, but for all its informality, the look he cultivated was studied and deliberate. He sat not at the head of the huge table but midway down its length and closest to the door into the room. He would greet his guest personally and as equals, without the barrier of the table or by subtle implication any other barriers between them. A part of an artful lie, of course, but he hoped a convincing one.

It was what he did. He was a politician, and a good one. Some might consider that a pejorative, but he cared not at all, for he was a student of history. Statesmen might be venerated in the history books, but it was politicians who made things work. To his mind, his was the noblest of professions, and he was a proud practitioner of the political arts.

He looked up as the door opened. Representative Simon Tremble looked rumpled and sleep-deprived. He was badly in need of a haircut and sported a two-day growth of beard. Gleason rose with a practiced smile and outstretched hand.

“Simon, thank you for coming.”

Tremble ignored Gleason’s hand and looked him in the eye. “I had a choice?”

Gleason’s smile flickered only slightly as he dropped his hand. “Oh, there’s always a choice, Simon. But have a seat.” He gestured to a chair beside his own. “Coffee?”

Tremble shook his head and dropped into the offered seat as Gleason took his own chair.

“Simon, I just wanted to let you know how much I regret the necessity—”

Tremble arched his eyebrows. “Necessity? Arresting the Speaker of the House and the President Pro Tem of the Senate was a ‘necessity’? For God’s sake, Ted, we’re from your own party! It’s not like we were wild-eyed anarchists!”

Gleason’s face hardened. “I gave you an opportunity—”

“Opportunity? Is that what you call it? Sorry, but from where we were sitting, it looked a whole lot like an ultimatum.”

Gleason tried another tack. “I understand, Simon, I really do, but this is a disaster of unprecedented scope. I had to be decisive and must continue to be. There’s just no time for business as usual.”

Tremble shook his head. “I might buy the argument we need to streamline things and take immediate action, even to the point of stretching constitutional safeguards to near breaking. But what you and Crawford are implementing, totally without oversight or regard for dissenting opinion, is an absolute outrage.”

Gleason spoke through clenched teeth. “I had to do it.”

“That would be a hell of a lot easier for me to believe if you hadn’t been quite so eager to declare yourself king, Mr. President. Or should I say Your Majesty?”

Gleason’s face reddened, but he recovered his composure quickly. “I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree on the necessity, Simon, but I didn’t ask you here to debate. What’s done is done, and I hope we CAN agree it’s in the nation’s best interest to get power restored as soon as possible. So I’m asking for your public support. It will go a long ways towards reassuring folks out there if you join me in some of the emergency broadcasts.”

“Un-frigging-believable! You lock me and my son up without access to a soul, and now expect me to endorse your coup? But why talk to me one on one? I figured you’d want Senator Leddy in on the deal too, along with anyone else you’ve had under house arrest. What’s the problem, did Jim turn you down?”

Gleason hesitated. “I’m sorry to say Jim Leddy died five days ago.”

Tremble sat shocked. “H-how did he die?”

“Very suddenly. A brain aneurysm. But he didn’t suffer, thank God.”

“Is there … was there a service? I’d like to pay my respects.”

“We thought it best not to upset the public with news of yet another loss. There’s been so much bad news as it is. There was a cremation and a small family service.”

Tremble glared. “How thoughtful of you. What about Linda? How is she holding up?”

Gleason shrugged. “She was upset, as you would expect.”

“Was?”

“I haven’t seen her since the memorial service,” Gleason said.

“And why is that?”

“As you know, Mount Weather shelters the national leadership and their dependents. With Jim’s unfortunate passing, Linda no longer qualifies. It’s tragic, but these are difficult times. Linda was provided air transport to her and Jim’s last home of record,” Gleason said.

“YOU DROPPED A DEFENSELESS WOMAN IN THE MIDDLE OF SAINT LOUIS?”

“She was disembarked with her luggage at the St. Louis airport. It was all according to established policy, of course,” Gleason said. “I’d think you would be all for established policies. After all, my deviation from policies to take ‘unilateral action’ seems to have upset you no end.”

Tremble’s face clouded and he clenched his fists as he half-rose from his chair.

Gleason continued quickly. “But let’s talk about something more pleasant. How’s Keith, by the way? What is he, eighteen now?” Gleason paused. “Oh, to be eighteen again, even in these troubled times. I do hope we can avoid mandatory conscription, but then again, we all have to do our part. I’m sure a patriotic young man like Keith would make a valuable addition to the new Special Reaction Force. Of course, a young man with a father in the national leadership always has options, assuming you decide to stay, of course.”

Tremble sank back into his chair and glared at Gleason.

“Food for thought, Simon,” said Gleason as he reached over and patted Tremble’s knee, “just food for thought.”

Gleason flashed his perfect white teeth in another million-dollar smile and rose.

“I’ll give you some time to think. Help yourself to the coffee on the sideboard, and let the fellow at the door know if you’d like anything to snack on. We try to keep things civilized, even in the midst of disaster. I’ll be back in an hour or so for your decision.”

Warden’s Office

Federal Correctional Complex

Beaumont, Texas

Day 15, 1:00 p.m.

McComb leaned back in the warden’s chair, his feet on the desk.

“So how’d it work?”

Snaggle flashed his gap-toothed grin. “Slicker ‘n snot on a doorknob. I gotta hand it to ya Spike, bustin’ the guys outta Stiles was genius. We drove right up in the federal CO uniforms and prison vans in broad daylight and those dumb-ass state assholes let us in easy as you please. Weren’t many of ‘em left anyway, so it didn’t take long to take care of ‘em. We had a lot more brothers in the state lockup too.”

“How many we free?”

“Just over two hundred Aryan Brotherhood of Texas, and maybe that many more new recruits. Like you said, we only took recruits who seemed hardcore, and left the others locked up with the jigs and beaners.” Snaggle smirked. “I expect the rest of the whites will be a mite more enthusiastic after a day or so without any food or water. They wasn’t gettin’ much anyway, but the state assholes seemed to be doing a bit better about feeding ‘em than they was doing by us.”

McComb shook his head. “We’re tight on food and such anyway, and better off to have committed ABT soldiers we know we can trust, so we’ll look at recruits hard from here on. Any of the whites that don’t measure up we’ll use in the labor gang unless they look to be trouble, then we just leave ‘em to rot with the mud people. Everything set up now at Stiles?”

Snaggle nodded. “We left guys in the Texas state CO uniforms running the place, so it looks normal if anyone checks, or at least normal considerin’ what’s going on. The brothers we freed are setting up quarters in the admin buildings, and I left a few of our guys in charge to run things. Nobody at Stiles outranked you in the Brotherhood, but I brought the three or four top guys over here to our group so we can keep an eye on ‘em, just in case. We don’t want nobody gettin’ no wrong ideas on who’s in charge.”

“Good man. How’s the scavenging going?”

“Could be better, but we’re building up the stores a little at a time. It would go a lot faster if we could just blow through and take stuff, but we’re keepin’ it low key, like you want.”

“Any problems?”

“Not with the scavenging, the boys are getting pretty good at it. They just drive up in uniform and one of ‘em knocks at the door politely. When folks answer the door, they give ‘em the old ‘be on the lookout for escaped prisoners’ and then check out the situation while the other guys circle around the house. Then they either bust in and take everything or pull back and figure out the best way to take ‘em. They ain’t leavin’ no witnesses behind, and so far it’s all been smooth along those lines, but …” Snaggle hesitated.

“Out with it. What’s the problem?”

“Well, we’re still short of women. I mean, me and you and the rest of the top guys have our pick. And I ain’t caught up by a damn sight, but I’m feelin’ a lot better in that department. But the problem is, we ain’t got enough women to go around yet, especially good-lookin’ ones, and it’s causing some problems. I mean, some of the junior guys go out and grab some good-lookin’ bitch, and the next thing he knows, he brings her back here and he goes to the end of the line. Some of ‘em are starting to grumble, and to be honest, I don’t think it’s good for morale.”

“All right, I get it. We’ll have to cool it with the rank thing and make sure everybody gets a fair shot at the women.” McComb smiled. “In a few weeks when we control everything, women will be crawling up the road begging us to take ‘em, so I guess we can be patient. I mean, now that we’ve had a little taste to hold us awhile.”

“Good call, I think,” Snaggle said. “Just one more thing. One of the scavenging teams ran into a deputy sheriff patrol last night—”

“Goddammit, I told you to avoid—”

Snaggle held up his hands. “It’s cool, Spike, we got it handled. They took ‘em out before they got on the radio, and they brought the cruiser back here. We got it hid in the motor pool.”