The Last Flag, page 10
part #2 of EMP Survivor Series
“I don’t believe that,” Copeland said. “And I think, deep down, you don’t believe it, either. We’re not born evil, Danny. We don’t come out of the womb hating things. We react to things we do or don’t like based on the amount of pain and pleasure we receive, but we don’t have malice or prejudices. Those are taught to us. It is learned. And what is learned can be unlearned.”
“Is that what you’re doing out here on the water?” Danny asked. “Teaching people how to unlearn? How to forgive themselves?” He leaned forward, the heat making him angrier and more focused. “You don’t know me. You don’t know my life or the things that I’ve done. I’ve killed people. I’ve hurt my own family. And there are many more men like me out there, and when they find this place, they will come for it, take what they want, and kill the rest. Because that’s all the world has ever been, and that’s all it will ever be.”
Copeland was quiet for a moment, studying Danny. But he didn’t look angry, upset, or bothered by the future Danny predicted. He was calm. “Do you know why we live on the water, Danny?” Copeland asked.
“No,” Danny answered.
“Water is fluid,” Copeland said. “It moves and adapts to the space around it. Humans have always shared a powerful connection to the water. It sustains us and gives us life. Without it, we’re nothing but dust.” He leaned closer. “We have chosen this life, this path, because we are willing to adapt. Willing to change. We want to be able to fill the cracks in our lives and others the way water does. It’s the most powerful force in nature, able to wipe cities and civilizations off the map. But without it, we’d all be dead. What else on Earth can boast such an array of endless possibilities?” He pointed at Danny. “You, me, everyone on those boats. The only difference between us and the water is that we can choose. We get to choose to be better, more than just the violence in our nature. Water reminds us of that; it reminds us to be fluid, adapt, and change with the times. And make no mistake, Danny. Change is coming. It is on the horizon, and you can be a part of it.”
It was all madness; Danny knew it as soon as the man opened his mouth. But he also knew that going against the grain now could be dangerous.
“What do you want from me?” Danny asked.
Copeland smiled. “I want nothing from you, Danny. Nothing. If you don’t want to stay here, you can leave, no questions asked. But I would advise staying until you’re healed. Give us time; let us show you what the world can be like.”
Danny had no intentions of sticking around, but he knew Copeland was right about his need to heal. He wasn’t sure how long he’d last on his own in this state. So, he’d play along, but the first moment he was healthy enough to leave, he’d go and never look back.
15
Charlie lay in hiding in the woods. From his vantage point, he had a good view of the enemy regrouping on the road. Charlie couldn’t get an exact figure, but the numbers weren’t in the dozens as The Bunker intelligence suggested, but closer to over one hundred fighters.
Charlie knew better than to engage any of them and figured they wouldn’t want to leave any survivors. Whether or not the enemy had known the exact number of contractors would be out here remained to be seen. But he doubted the enemy would leave any trace of what had transpired here, and that fear was confirmed when he saw the bodies collected and piled into a nearby ditch covered in a shallow dirt grave.
Charlie watched the enemy, getting a feel for their formations, their skill. Because while they might have wiped the other contractors out, anyone had an advantage when it came to a surprise attack. Charlie was careless not to have put out scouts on their lines. He should have seen this coming. But he was too concerned with converting others to his cause. Sir had wanted Charlie distracted.
Random gunshots echoed through the woods, and Charlie saw the soldiers picking off anyone still alive. The enemy had no plans of leaving behind any survivors.
If Charlie ran now, he’d be seen, so he remained hidden. Until the enemy was gone, Charlie would be forced to watch them gather the men he’d led and toss them into a ditch where they’d rot.
But as grotesque and brutal as it was to watch what the enemy was doing, Charlie didn’t look away. He forced himself to watch the enemy. If the enemy knew where they were located, it meant someone had given up their position, and Charlie was convinced it was Sir. But why he would have wanted to get into bed with the enemy, Charlie didn’t know. Watching them might provide some answers.
All of the fighters were dressed in black tactical gear. They wore face covers and no flags or other symbols along with their uniforms. They didn’t want anyone to know who they were or where they had come from. Charlie saw no heavy artillery, but each soldier was armed with an assault rifle, a pack, and various knives and side arms. At least fifty of them, the number far higher than the dozen they’d been debriefed on at The Bunker.
They barely spoke, using hand signals instead to keep silent. These were an elite group of fighters. Their formations, weapons, and how they moved all told the story of experienced soldiers.
Charlie was hidden beneath some foliage behind a fallen trunk. He’d buried himself, leaving only the whites of his eyes visible from the ground. An experienced sniper might be able to find him, but he doubted anyone else would see him.
But that theory was about to be tested.
A pair of soldiers scanning the woods for stragglers finally neared Charlie’s position. He remained still and controlled his breathing so he didn’t move when inhaled or exhaled. Movement meant death.
The fighters stomped the ground and prodded any mound of leaves with the tip of their bayonet. The closer they moved toward Charlie, the faster his heart beat. He knew the enemy couldn’t hear it, but the blood rushing through Charlie’s ears made the situation more stressful.
The pair moved within a few feet of Charlie, and he kept his eyes focused on the soldier nearest to him. If he raised his bayonet to plunge into the leaves Charlie had pulled over the top of him, then Charlie would be forced to shoot.
The moment Charlie opened fire, he’d had to move quickly. Charlie didn’t dare close his eyes as he remained focused on his target. Even though he remained frozen, he was ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. It would be a fight to the death, and he would be running for his life.
The soldier closest to Charlie stepped right in front of Charlie’s face as he scanned the ground. He raised his rifle to pierce Charlie, but a whistle caused him to stop. The soldier glanced behind him and then nodded, following his comrade back to the road.
Charlie slowly exhaled when the fighters were out of sight, and then he watched as the enemy finished dumping bodies and continued down the road.
Charlie emerged from his covering and watched as the enemy continued its slow, methodical pace toward the facility Charlie and the others had been instructed to keep them from reaching. But if the facility had been so integral to rebuilding the country's efforts, why had Sir and The Bunker betrayed them?
Charlie waited until he could no longer hear or see the enemy forces. He finally rose from the forest and emerged back onto the road. He walked over to the pit where the other contractors had been discarded.
The fresh dirt covering their bodies was a thin veil. A stiff wind or hard rain would expose the corpses soon enough.
Charlie couldn’t help but wonder how many of them had families? Friends? Loved ones they cared about, waiting for their return?
Charlie had never considered these men more than the sum of their jobs. But knowing they were all dead, buried in the soil, subject to the fate everyone would one day face, he couldn’t help but think about them as people. They had lives, interests, fears, and dreams. He was sure of it because Charlie had all of those same emotions.
“Don’t move.”
Charlie stiffened at the sound of the man’s voice. It was behind him, and Charlie had no idea how someone had managed to get the drop on him. The only piece of good news was that the voice had no accent. The surprise visitor was American.
“Did you know about this?”
Without turning around, Charlie couldn’t know for sure, but he recognized that voice. It was Blue Eyes.
“No,” Charlie answered, remaining calm and still. He knew he wouldn’t be able to spin around fast enough and draw on Blue Eyes before he shot him. He also didn’t know if Blue Eyes was a part of the deception. Anyone who was a survivor would be a suspect, including Charlie. “Did you?”
“No,” Blue Eyes answered. “I’m not a monster who turns on my brothers.”
“Brothers?” Charlie asked, back still to Blue Eyes. “That’s what you thought of us as?”
“Strangers seemed too impersonal after this,” Blue Eyes answered. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t put a bullet in the back of your head?”
Charlie didn’t question Blue Eyes’s ability to kill him or his motive, so whatever he came up with had to be good. “Because I can get you out of this,” Charlie said.
Blue Eyes was quiet for a second but then responded. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“What do you think happens next?” Charlie asked. “We both scurry away and never have to deal with The Bunker again? You and I both know Sir will make sure every last one of us is dead because if this gets out, whatever notion of control he has over The Bunker will vanish. People understand what we do is dangerous, but they are loyal under the pretense that what we’re doing is saving lives.”
“So, you want to tell The Bunker what happened?” Blue Eyes asked.
“No,” Charlie answered. “I want to blow up Sir’s plans.” Charlie waited, unsure if he’d been able to make Blue Eyes understand there was only one outcome in which they both stayed alive.
“Turn around,” Blue Eyes said. “Slowly.”
Charlie did as he was told, keeping his hands down at his sides.
“And how would you do that?” Blue Eyes asked.
“It’s clear that whatever is in that facility, Sir wants the Chinese to have it,” Charlie answered. “The only way to have any leverage is to steal it before the Chinese do.”
Blue Eyes squinted and then took a few steps closer toward Charlie. “You want to break into a secure facility and steal an item when we don’t know what we’re looking for?”
“We won’t have to break into the facility,” Charlie answered. “We just need to steal the item before the Chinese get their hands on it.”
Blue Eyes slowly caught on to what Charlie was telling him. “You want to use the facility as bait?”
“If Sir didn’t tell us about the ambush here, then it's certain he didn’t tell the security at the facility where the enemy is marching,” Charlie said. “I want us to tell them what’s heading their way. I want there to be a fight so big there’s nothing but chaos. And we use that chaos to our advantage.”
Blue Eyes mulled it over, but it was clear to Charlie that the man had already made his choice. “And how do we find the item the facility is guarding?”
“The facility members will tell us. It’ll be easy, trust me,” Charlie said.
It was as good of a plan as Charlie could conjure, but it meant nothing if Blue Eyes didn’t lower that weapon.
“You’re not stupid,” Blue Eyes said. “And the only reason I know that is because you’re alive and they’re dead.” He lowered his weapon.
“Is that all it took?” Charlie asked.
Blue Eyes laughed. “I think I understand why The Bunker never wanted us to talk.”
“Why’s that?” Charlie asked.
“Because we might start liking one another,” Blue Eyes answered, gesturing down the road. “Lead the way.”
Charlie pointed to the tree line. “We’ll need to move through the woods, keep far enough away from the fighters so they won’t see or hear us. We’ll have to move quickly if we want to pass them before they arrive at the facility.”
Charlie glanced back at the fallen contractors one final time. One day, he would join them, but he'd need to survive the fight ahead if he wanted to prevent his family from the same fate.
16
The dog panted happily as Shelly pulled the wagon of oxygen tanks down the street. Even though it had been quiet since she was attacked, Shelly kept up her guard and was thankful for the animal. The dog was able to sense things before Shelly could. She’d already alerted her to two cats and a bunny.
A chill was coming off the coast, and Shelly flipped up her collar. Her face was numb, but she was sweating inside her jacket. The ordeal with the others earlier, combined with the events since the EMP, worsened her fatigue. She wanted to stop and take a break, but the longer it took to repair the water on the island, the higher the chances the residents would revolt.
Shelly had no desire to leave her children alone with people she barely knew, especially with high tensions, making returning to the island as quickly as possible outweigh a few moments of rest.
Shelly continued with the dog for another few miles, keeping to the back roads but ensuring the coast was still within eyesight. She avoided the highway. After the altercation at the dive shop, she didn’t want to attract any more attention to herself than was necessary. But when Shelly reached a crossroads, she was forced to make a choice.
The road diverged up ahead. Keeping right would put her through a small town that would potentially expose her to more people, but it was the fastest route home. If she left, she’d avoid the crowds by keeping to the remote back rounds, but it would take her twice as long to return to the island.
Cutting through the woods wasn’t an option because the oxygen tanks in the cart would topple. She had to stay on a paved surface.
Shelly glanced down at the dog. “What do you think?”
The animal perked her ears up and wagged its tail, panting happily.
“Not much of a sounding board, are you?” Shelly asked, scratching the dog’s head.
In the end, Shelly decided to go through the town. She figured if there were people there, they would be more likely to be hunkered down and wanting to avoid trouble, while anyone wandering the highway would be most likely scavenging for supplies. Not to mention it would take her longer.
It also helped that the town was small, but when Shelly finally entered the little coastal community, she had second thoughts about her decision. Storefronts were destroyed, and the main street was littered with bodies, glass, and debris. Shelly covered her mouth from the stench. She nearly turned back but knew it would only waste more time. She decided to get through the town as quickly as possible.
“C’mon, girl.” Shelly pulled the dog close, not letting the animal linger near the bodies they passed.
The dog whimpered, indicating she was as disturbed by the scene as Shelly had been. But the farther they walked the main street, the more Shelly’s detective instincts took over.
She noticed how the bodies were splayed out, face down. They were running from something. She saw the bullet wounds in their backs. This wasn’t chaos from the EMP; this was a massacre.
Shelly knew there was a fair amount of looting around the country, she had seen plenty of it when they were escaping Seattle, but this was something different. This was the work of a large group of armed fighters intending to erase any witnesses from a crime.
Halfway down the main street, the dog jerked to a stop, whimpering toward a retail store. Shelly tried to get the dog to move, but she wouldn’t.
“Girl, we don’t want to stick around here,” Shelly said, unable to see much inside the store’s dark interior. “Whatever you’re smelling isn’t worth our lives.”
The dog whimpered again, whining as she pulled toward the store again. Try as she might, Shelly couldn’t get the dog to move. Unable to leave the animal behind, Shelly relented.
“Fine,” Shelly said, grabbing her weapon. “But I’m going in alone.” She pulled the wagon and the animal toward a nearby streetlight and tied the beast off on the sturdy pole. “Just watch my back, all right? You see someone coming, you bark.”
Again, the animal’s ears perked up, and she sat dutifully on the sidewalk, panting.
“Good girl,” Shelly said.
Armed, Shelly headed toward the broken-down storefront’s entrance. She approached hesitantly, unsure of what waited for her inside. And knowing any element of surprise was gone, she chose to announce herself, hoping that if someone were inside, they wouldn’t shoot.
“Seattle Police Department,” Shelly said. “Anyone in here?”
Shelly saw rows of clothes racks, most still on the hangers. There was no sign of blood inside or indications that the fighting in the streets was brought into the store. The walls and counter were destroyed by the hail of lead penetrating the store entrance. Shelly wasn’t sure what the dog had heard or smelled, but she didn’t think anything inside this store was alive anymore.
Still, that detective’s curiosity reared up again, and Shelly decided to at least clear the inside of the store before moving on. It wouldn’t take that much more time. Shelly moved slowly and methodically through the building. She didn’t announce herself anymore and figured that if someone were going to shoot her, they would have done it already. She moved up and down the aisles of clothes, immersed in the surroundings. Senses on high alert, she responded to any breeze coming inside through the broken windows.
When Shelly neared the back of the store by the counter, she was convinced no one was inside. But just before she turned to leave, she heard movement behind the counter. She spun around quickly, her instincts taking over.
“Don’t move,” Shelly said. “I want you to come out with your hands up. Nice and slow. Do it, now!” The authority in Shelly’s voice prompted a quick response, but when she saw the pair of tiny hands rise above the counter, she frowned.
Two children emerged, dirty and tired, their eyes bloodshot from crying, but their cheeks dry of tears. The boy had a knife in his hand. He held it tightly as if the blade were an extension of his hand. And while the look in the boy’s eyes suggested he was terrified, it also told Shelly the kid had nothing left to lose.
