The Last Flag, page 9
part #2 of EMP Survivor Series
“It’s not a sure thing,” Charlie said. “There are never guarantees. But there has never been an opportunity like this before. Can Sir and The Bunker take out one, two, three of us? Yes. But imagine if we had everyone join us. That’s a movement. That’s a middle finger to the man in charge and a symbol to anyone else who doubts what’s going on to join us.”
Blue Eyes remained silent, staring straight ahead. Charlie had said too much, revealing the cards he guarded close to his chest. He needed to convince Blue Eyes that this was the only path forward for success.
“You and I both know the only way out of this place is in a box,” Charlie said. “You said it yourself; look at me. I got out. I was convinced I was out. But now I’m back, all because one man said so. No one should have that much power or control. It’s dangerous. If the only way out of The Bunker’s service is death, why not make the death of our choosing? Why not go down trying to fight back?”
Blue Eyes glanced up at Charlie, the man’s gaze laser focused. “Is that what you want? For us to fight our way out?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want,” Charlie answered. “All that matters is what’s possible. And the only way this plan works is if we get everyone on board. Sir isn’t a fighter. The moment he sees all the men he assembled to do his bidding turn on him, he’ll fold.”
Blue Eyes grunted. “He is soft. But I don’t know if he’s a coward.” He chewed the inside of his cheek and then nodded. “All right. I’ll spread the word. See what I can find.”
“Keep it small at first,” Charlie said. “Only the men you’re certain would join us.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Blue Eyes said, and then he walked away.
Charlie took a deep breath. If this worked, if he and Blue Eyes could gather more of the fighters to their cause, then when they returned to The Bunker, it would be to overturn the regime. However, what kind of resistance they would encounter upon their return remained to be seen.
When Charlie and the contractors reached the rendezvous point, the layout was precisely how Charlie envisioned it in his head.
“All right, everyone, listen up,” Charlie said, gathering the others around him. “I don’t know what kind of fight these special ops will put up, but I want this done quickly. The faster we finish this, the faster we get to leave.”
All the contractors nodded.
Charlie halved the group in two, appointing Blue Eyes as the leader on the other side of the valley. “We don’t leave any survivors. One scurries away and we track them. Understood?”
Everyone nodded, and the teams moved into position with the assignments understood.
The contractors were experienced enough that a mission like this could be done on autopilot. That kind of muscle memory proved vital when it came time to fight. Even when Charlie was exhausted or injured, he could still count on his body to do what was needed, even if his mind was foggy. And so could every other contractor on the team.
Once everyone was in position, Charlie checked the time to see how much longer until the enemy arrived. They had ten minutes to spare, and that time dragged on forever. But when the clock on Charlie’s watch ticked past the time when the enemy was supposed to arrive, he started to worry. And as he feared, the rest of the contractors grew restless.
Blue Eyes hailed Charlie over the radio. “Where are they?” Blue Eyes asked.
“Hold position,” Charlie answered.
“That’s not a fucking answer,” Blue Eyes said. “This doesn’t smell right.”
It was a valid argument, but Charlie knew they needed to wait. But it wasn’t like The Bunker to provide lousy intelligence. But then again, it wasn’t like The Bunker to allow an event like an EMP to be possible.
The last thing Charlie wanted to do was lose the confidence of the contractors. There had never been a reported instance of contractors going rogue on a mission, but these were unprecedented times.
Maybe this was what Sir wanted? Perhaps all of this was an elaborate plot to kill Charlie? But the more he thought about it, the more he was paranoid. He might have been an effective contractor, but he wasn’t integral to The Bunker’s operation. He was simply a tool and a disposable one at that.
But the more Charlie thought about it, the more time passed without any sign of the enemy they’d been sent to destroy, and the more Charlie wondered if something else was happening, something Sir had planned.
The contractors grew more restless the longer they went without seeing their target, and Charlie knew it was only a matter of time before he’d have to decide.
“Call it in,” Blue Eyes said. “Shit’s fucked.”
Charlie reached for the radio when he heard the snap of a twig behind him. Before Charlie could react the enemy had already opened fire.
The valley's silence was torn apart by the thunder of machine guns as gunfire was exchanged between the two parties. The enemy charged and was relentless in their attack. Two bullets struck the Kevlar covering Charlie’s chest, stunning him into submission for a few minutes, but the time gave him the clarity to realize what needed to happen next.
Charlie flipped himself over the side of the high rise they had positioned himself, flipping end over end through the dirt and grass, smashing into rocks and trees on the way down. Charlie tried to tuck and roll, but he was so disoriented from the surprise attack he couldn’t keep control of himself on the fall down the slope.
But Charlie maintained the good sense to keep moving even after he stopped rolling, knowing he needed to seek cover before the enemy advanced to the ledge and picked him off like a fish in a barrel.
The thunder of gunfire echoed on both sides of the road, but Charlie focused on a cluster of trees ahead that would provide good cover from any snipers above. He just needed to get there.
Bullets chased Charlie, nipping at his heels as he sprinted for cover. The last thing he wanted was to lose his life after coming this far, and as he dove for the woods, something hot stung his left calf.
Charlie winced as he rolled more profoundly into the woods. More bullets chased him, but they were random and sporadic. They couldn’t see him anymore.
Charlie's adrenaline was so amped despite the fall and gunshot pain that he pushed through it all, knowing he needed to get as far away from the massacre as possible. It wasn’t until his leg gave out that he finally stopped.
Charlie positioned himself behind a tree trunk, sweaty and out of breath. But he still kept his wits about him, and he cleared the area before allowing himself to relax. The fighting was still nearby, but the sound of the gunshots wasn’t as loud. But something else was happening as well. The gunshots were becoming less frequent.
Charlie knew the contractors were some of the best fighters in the country, but even the best couldn’t protect themselves from an ambush.
“They knew we would be there,” Charlie said, shutting his eyes. “That bastard wanted this to happen.”
The only question Charlie needed to answer was why? And he intended to answer it.
14
The longer the day progressed, the antsier Danny became. He had never been one to lie still, so, after a few hours on the cot, his strength slowly returning and his anxiousness outweighing his fatigue, Danny pushed himself out of bed.
Danny was forced to sit on the edge of the bed after a dizzy spell nearly knocked him to his backside. He shut his eyes, focused on his breathing, and waited until the moment passed. When Danny opened his eyes again, he stood but used the wall nearby to help brace himself and remain upright.
Danny glanced at the hallway behind him. He remembered the voice he’d heard, telling him that he couldn’t trust what any of these people had to say.
Curious, Danny slowly walked to the back of the hull, squeezing into the narrow hallway. He craned his neck to the left, trying to see if anyone was in bed, but when he exited the narrow hallway, he only found an empty cot.
The sheets were neatly made, and there was no sign that anyone had been there. Danny frowned. He was sure he’d heard someone speak to him. But he had been so delirious this morning when he woke that maybe he’d only dreamed it.
“You’re up.”
Danny jumped from the surprise, and when he turned around, he saw the woman from earlier who’d come to take care of him.
“It’s Daisy,” she said, smiling. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Um, yeah,” Danny answered, gesturing to the empty bed. “There was someone here earlier, right?”
“Yes,” Daisy answered.
When the woman didn’t provide further details, Danny arched his eyebrows. “And? Where is he now?”
Daisy sported her coy smile as she walked closer to him. “It’s sweet you’re concerned about him, but he’s fine.” She gave him a good look up and down. “You’re quite handsome; you know that?” She touched his arm. “Strong, thoughtful, a girl could do worse.”
Danny frowned, unsure of the woman’s flirtatious intentions.
“Would you like to take a look around?” Daisy asked.
“Sure,” Danny answered.
Daisy took him by the hand and slowly led him to the front of the boat and onto the top deck. Sunlight blinded Danny when he stepped out, the world whitewashed by the reflection off of the boat top. He stopped, pulling Daisy to a halt with him.
“Here, take these,” Daisy said and then shoved a pair of sunglasses into his hand.
Danny put them on, then blinked a few times, and his eyes finally adjusted.
“Better?” Daisy asked.
“Yeah, thanks,” Danny answered, slack-jawed at what he saw before him.
From the boat's deck where Danny stood, he saw a connection of other vessels strung together. He counted at least thirty ships from where he was standing, but he imagined more were floating on the edges, blocked by some of the larger vessels. Boats of every kind floated alongside them: pontoons, fishing charters, sailboats, and even a few yachts. Boarding planks connected some, others by rope, and a few only accessible by dingy. But all the boats in the area circled a single vessel centered at the flotilla's core.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Daisy asked.
Danny nodded, trying to get a better bearing for their location, but he saw nothing other than an empty shoreline when he looked beyond the boats. Wherever they were, they were far from civilization, at least from what Danny could see.
“The cove acts as our protector,” Daisy said, noticing how Charlie glanced around.
“And what cove is that, exactly?” Danny asked.
“You have so many questions,” Daisy answered, smiling. “Father Copeland says curiosity is a sign of intelligence. You’re smart, aren’t you, Danny?”
“Not particularly,” Danny answered.
Daisy’s pretty smile faded, and the stoic expression was far less pleasant. She’d turned her mind off, letting something else take over as she spoke next, a puppet for another entity.
“You mustn’t doubt yourself so much, Danny,” Daisy answered. “Your doubt led you to us in the first place.”
“My doubt?” Danny asked.
“You’re conflicted,” Daisy answered, her eyes empty as she looked at him. “Everyone deals with conflict, but how we respond to it gives us the ability to stand on our own.”
The longer Danny stared at Daisy, the more he noticed how that stoic expression wasn’t precisely stoic. There was something hidden just beneath the surface. Something angry and violent. Like water just before it was about to boil.
“You need to heal, Danny,” Daisy said.
It sounded more like a threat than a suggestion, but Danny knew he wasn’t in the position to object. He was barely walking around.
Danny glanced at the boat at the center. It was a sailboat, catamaran if Danny had his vessel right. It was old, but it looked in good condition. It had the kind of wear that showed it had been used.
“Do you want to go see him?” Daisy asked.
“See who?” Danny replied.
“Father Copeland?”
Copeland had been the one Danny had spoken with earlier today. The man had an even more significant creep factor than Daisy. But if Danny wanted answers, he suspected he’d have to talk to the man in charge.
“Sure,” Danny answered.
Daisy smiled again, brightening up as if her mood had never darkened. “Excellent.”
Daisy led Danny between the boats, giving him a better look at their day-to-day life. Everyone wore simple, plain clothes, mostly homemade ponchos in various colors. People busied themselves with tasks, staying occupied. Some were cleaning, others cooked, and some taught children.
Danny couldn’t help but have the images conjured of a cult. The clothes, the closeness of the community, the isolation. But if it were a cult, it was one of the biggest Danny had ever seen. Well over one hundred people were working amongst the boats, maybe even double that if others were below deck.
But what Danny didn’t notice were weapons. There wasn’t a gun among them as he could tell: no armed guards, nothing.
“Do you have fighters?” Danny asked.
“Fighters?” Daisy answered, confused. “How do you mean?”
“You know what’s happened out there, right?” Danny asked. “What went down out in the real world?”
“The real world is right here,” Daisy answered, gesturing to the boats around them.
“Do you guys have any phones or computers?” Danny asked.
“No, we don’t believe in connecting to the digital world,” Daisy answered. “Everything we need the ocean and land can provide. We don’t concern ourselves with the opinions of others.”
Danny nodded, but the information told him these people might not have even realized what was going on in the world, how it had crumbled. And if Danny understood only one thing about human nature, it was that most people were opportunists. It was only a matter of time before someone found this place and used force to take it from them. And when that happened, Danny wanted to be as far away from this place as possible.
When Daisy reached the small boat that would ferry her and Danny to the vessel at the center of the flotilla, he saw another dingy with a load of rocks.
Four men had set up an assembly line, removing the rocks from the small boat and moving it onto the deck of a more giant ship.
“What’s that about?” Danny asked, gesturing to the rocks.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Daisy answered, dismissing him, and then she cast off the line. “Come, Father Copeland is waiting.”
Daisy held out her hand, and Danny accepted it as she helped him into the boat. There was no engine, so Daisy was forced to row them to the vessel. Danny would have helped, but the short walk from his cot had already drained him.
“You put on a brave face,” Daisy said. “You’re afraid to show weakness.”
“Yeah, well, in my experience, weak people don’t survive very long,” Danny said.
“Showing weakness doesn’t lessen your chances for survival,” Daisy said. “It allows you to understand yourself and the world around you better. Everybody’s weak at one point or another.”
“Right,” Danny said, not in the mood to get into a debate. “When did you come here?”
“I arrived at the community three years ago,” Daisy answered. “It was during a hard time in my life when I realized I needed to make a choice.”
“What kind of choice?” Danny asked.
Daisy only smirked. “The same choice I suspect you’ll have to make sooner or later.”
It was the way she looked at him that made Danny avert his gaze. It was like she had seen all the terrible things he had done, the guilt and shame he had carried with him for so long. He wanted nothing more than to unburden himself. But he knew it wasn’t possible.
When they finally reached the vessel, Daisy held onto the side of the boat. Danny waited for her to tie off, but he realized she wasn't staying when she didn't.
“I’ll come back when you’re finished,” Daisy said.
“And how long is this conversation going to last?” Danny asked.
“As long as it takes,” Daisy answered.
Danny wasn’t sure what he was getting into, but worry filled him as he stood and climbed aboard the old catamaran. He reached the deck and watched as Daisy rowed away, smiling at him in that knowing way women did when they believed they were right about something.
Danny glanced around the boat, which looked abandoned. The sails were folded, and the anchor was out. The ship barely rocked in the cove’s calm waters. Unsure if Father Copeland was even on board, Danny descended into the cabin, where he found the man.
Copeland sat cross-legged on a pillow. Candles burned around him, and the windows were blocked out, the only light penetrating through the open cabin door. His eyes were closed, and he remained ultimately still. The air was warm but stale.
“Come inside and sit with me, Danny,” Copeland said.
The request sounded less like an invitation and more like a demand. Danny entered and sat opposite Copeland on another pillow with nowhere else to go. Any position he tried to sit in was still uncomfortable because of the gunshot, and he fidgeted.
“You’re in pain,” Copeland said.
“That usually happens when you’re shot,” Danny answered.
Copeland opened his eyes. “I’m not talking about your wound.”
“Why did you bring me here?” Danny asked. “Do you want me to join your cult? Is that it? Why?”
“So, you think of us as a cult?” Copeland asked curiously. “And what is a cult?”
“They’re usually crazy,” Danny answered.
“Crazier than the world you’ve known?” Copeland asked.
Danny didn’t reply, and it was the opening Copeland was waiting for.
“The life you knew, the world you lived in, is over,” Copeland answered. “The world has given us all a chance to begin anew. Start fresh. Isn’t that the point of all of this? What other reason could the world’s end mean other than to start something different?”
“It could mean that people are just shit,” Danny answered. “And they’re always going to be shit, no matter what happens.”
