The last rebellion, p.1
The Last Rebellion, page 1
part #3 of EMP Survivor Series
The Last Rebellion
James Hunt
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
About the Author
1
“Order is the elimination of chaos. And anyone who chooses to interfere with that order is an agent of chaos.”
The Captain of Bunker Security walked along the line of prisoners taken after the insurrection. Blood splatter covered his boots, pants, and uniform. Each of them was restrained and on their knees with their heads bowed. No one dared look him in the eye. People were always bold until a gun was pointed at their heads, then they fell back into line. And if they didn’t? Well, he had never been squeamish and had plenty of bullets in the chamber.
“All of you swore an oath,” Captain said. “And all of you have broken that oath. The penalty of which is death.” Captain stopped when he reached the end of the line, back still turned to the traitors. “Make your peace now,” he said.
“Please,” one of the prisoners looked up, sweaty and crying. “We didn’t do anything, we swear. All of it happened so fast. We didn’t know who to trust.”
Captain grimaced and spun around, eyeing the sniveling worm. He glanced at the nameplate on his left breast, where a number was displayed. No one wore their real names here. It was protocol. The man who spoke was number 279.
“Two seven nine, what was your position?” Captain asked.
The man stared at Captain as if speaking another language before finally clearing his throat. “Oh, um, I worked in data intelligence.”
Captain retained his stoic expression and slowly approached worker two-seven-nine. “How long did you work for The Bunker?”
“Um, I-I’ve been here, um….”
“Spit it out!” Captain barked.
“Seven years,” he answered quickly. “I’ve worked in data intelligence for seven years.”
Captain raised an eyebrow. “That’s a long time. And, until today, did you ever not understand our mission?”
“Our mission?” he asked.
“Was there ever a day when you came into work without a clear understanding of your objectives?” Captain asked.
“Please, this wasn’t our fault!” 279 pleaded until his cheeks were cherry red and snot dripped from his nose. “We didn’t do anything!”
Captain had nothing but contempt for the coward in front of him. “And that is why you’re here.” He unholstered his pistol and placed it against 279’s forehead. “There is no room for doubt and weakness.”
“Please, I have—”
The bullet cut through the man’s head and punched a fist-sized hole in the back of his skull when it exited and entered the wall, spraying blood, brain, and bits of bone as 279 crumpled to the floor.
“Everyone who joined The Bunker took part in its endeavors, knowing exactly what it was,” Captain said, still holding the gun. “There were no delusions about our goal, and we all understood there would be moments when we didn’t fully comprehend the motives or the mission. Regardless of missing information, we were told to perform our duties willingly. And yet, everyone on their knees decided to forgo their duties when it suited them.”
“You saw what we did.” The prisoner in question wore the nameplate of 4781. He looked up at Captain with the kind of fiery hate born from the blood of rebellion. “He was the person who detonated the bomb. He put the country in danger. Do you know how many people have died because of what he did? I do because it was part of my job—damage assessment. Our projections put at least five percent of the population dead. That’s almost twenty million!”
Captain focused on 4781, but he was peripherally aware of the rest of the group on their knees. The comment, combined with the imagery of their dead colleague on the floor, was provoking and angering. It wouldn’t be long before their anger outweighed their reason, and Captain and his company had already suffered losses quelling the first outbreak of the rebellion.
“Those people who died weren’t numbers or tallies on a spreadsheet,” 4781 said. “They were fathers and mothers. Sons and daughters. They were friends and loved ones. They were people. Just like us.”
“The number on your chest suggests otherwise,” Captain said.
“My name is Chris,” he said. “And you can treat us like numbers, but we all know that’s only to keep us divided. If you want to buy into the crap he was selling, so be it. But I’m not falling for it anymore.”
Captain looked to the other prisoners, all of whom had gathered their courage to look him in the eye. “Very well. These assets cannot be salvaged. Terminate.”
The gunshots thundered in the room as Captain’s team killed the remaining survivors, and after a brief and thunderous clap of gunfire, there was silence.
When the smoke cleared, Captain’s right hand, number 3279, stepped forward. “Subjects terminated, sir.” She was a formidable woman, and neither she nor Captain had ever interacted with one another aside from their work together at The Bunker. But despite the lack of camaraderie, neither of them wavered in their commitment to the job. They were alike in that regard.
The rest of the security team turned to Captain, who they only knew as number 5212.
The Bunker’s protocols were clear regarding keeping personal names and information outside the job. And Captain and his team found no reason to break those protocols. Especially now, they were more important than ever.
“We are now in red-alert protocol,” Captain said. “The conflict has destroyed the facility and ruined several systems that had made it inhabitable. Airflow is minimal, and it is only a matter of time before we all suffocate. We’ve trained for this. Five-minute drill. Go!”
The team disbanded, each person knowing their role to perfection. Captain had worked diligently to ensure his team was ready for any scenario, and today’s success was evidence of his efforts. But the day hadn’t been without its setbacks.
Captain walked to the video recording systems set up in Sir’s quarters at The Bunker. He was only granted access during a catastrophic event or a breach in The Bunker’s security, such as now.
Captain entered and found the place utterly untouched from the fighting that had engulfed The Bunker, which had seen so much death and destruction. But Sir had always been someone to think ahead, and the reason for Sir’s quarters having such tight restrictions was to act as a backup redundancy for the entire facility. It was here that Captain could access files and information previously unknown to him. And there was one file in particular that Captain wanted.
“Captain, we’re nearly done.”
“Good; report to our surface position and hold until further instruction,” Captain answered.
“Copy.”
As Captain searched through the files, he came across his own. He paused when he saw it. He’d known one existed. There was a file on everyone who worked in The Bunker, but he had never seen it.
His name wasn’t on the outside of it, only his identification number. He held onto it, wondering what could be inside, what the man he followed thought of him after all his years of service. Inside was an identity Captain didn’t really consider his own anymore. The man in the file had been replaced by Captain 5212 and the purpose bestowed upon him by their leader.
And yet…
Captain slowly opened the file and found a picture of himself with some of his personal details. Age, height, weight, professional experience. They had listed his achievements in the Army Rangers, where he had been a commander for eight years.
The name, his name, the one he removed from himself when he put on The Bunker uniform and he came into work, was John Melrose. It was the name given to him by his father, the man who had abandoned his family when John was only three.
The name had been the only thing Captain’s father had given him; it had been a name he was never comfortable with. Maybe that was why it had been so easy for him to set it aside when he came to work for The Bunker. He didn’t want to associate anything about himself with the man who had abandoned his family. A man who wanted nothing to do with him.
Captain looked down at the file. There were several more pages beyond the basic information provided on the first page. He imagined there was an insight into Sir’s thoughts about him on a more personal level.
But Captain reminded himself that this was not his purpose. He was not meant to peek behind the curtain. He was only here to do his job. And looking any further would go against the order and protocol to which he had dedicated his life.
Captain closed his folder and set it aside. He continued his search for the one file he had come to locate, and when he found it, he collected it along with the rest of the information he was tasked with recovering. He then set an explosive in Sir’s quarters with a timer to detonate. There would be nothing for anyone to fi
Captain emerged from The Bunker, returning to the surface where the rest of his team waited for him.
The conflict at The Bunker had taken many of his men, but he still had enough numbers in his ranks to remain a formidable force. But for what came next, they would need to separate.
“I know our strength comes from our unity, our common purpose, and mission,” Captain said, addressing his fighters. “But for our mission to succeed, we must divide and conquer. We will split up into three teams. Team Echo will come with me to recover classified data from the remaining backup sites. Team Bravo will head to our new site and wait for further instructions. And Team Alpha will be tasked with the most important mission of all.”
Captain held up the file he had taken from Sir’s quarters and extended it to 3279, who would lead Team Alpha. “The man responsible for our current predicament has taken our leader,” Captain said. “And you will get him back. Our enemy is resourceful, skilled, and dangerous. We locate him, and we locate our leader. Until we have brought this man to justice, we will not rest. Until we have recovered our leader, we will not stop. Until order is restored and the vision of our leader is enacted, we will not waver in our commitment. Is that understood!”
“Yes, Captain!”
The reply was definitive, and Captain knew they would not fail him. They would not fail each other. And they would not fail their leader.
The idea that any of this could happen to The Bunker, a place so steadfast and unwavering in its commitment to excellence, was maddening. But they would set things right. The Bunker’s purpose was to restore order to a world of chaos. And that restoration began with locating employee number 173.
Or who he was referred to outside of The Bunker: Charlie Owens.
2
Charlie Owens stood outside the interrogation room door, staring at the handle. He knew what waited for him on the other side of that door. He’d been dreading the conversation, but it was unavoidable now. The moment Charlie had decided to let Sir live, he had intertwined their fates, perhaps even before that. It all started when Charlie had joined The Bunker, hoping to leave the world better than he had found it.
But that had only been a lie used to manipulate Charlie and anyone else employed by The Bunker.
Charlie entered the room. The single yellow light from the lantern on the table cast an eerie glow over the interior. It was small and cramped, furnished with one table and two chairs opposite each other. The seat on the far side of the table was already occupied.
The man Charlie only knew as Sir was handcuffed to the table, not that it was necessary. He wasn’t a danger in the traditional sense. Sir was of small stature, most likely in his late forties or early fifties. He looked like an accountant who had worked in an office his entire life. His pale complexion and thin yet doughy physique were far from intimidating.
Charlie was the physical opposite of Sir. He was taller, had a frame of lean muscle with calloused hands, and a tan. He was clean-shaven, despite the circumstances of the post-EMP world. He’d never liked having a beard.
But as Charlie sat across from Sir, he couldn’t help but feel his pulse race because he understood what made Sir truly dangerous. It was his mind and his mouth.
“I was wondering when we’d speak again,” Sir said, and then he gestured to the handcuffs. “Are you certain these are necessary?”
“Until I know everything in that head of yours, all of this is necessary,” Charlie said.
The chains kept Sir hunched forward in an uncomfortable position, which he’d been in for at least an hour. Charlie had hoped to wear him down, but Sir was unphased by the poor posture.
“If you knew everything in my head, I’m certain you’d go insane,” Sir said.
“You have no idea what I’m capable of,” Charlie said.
“I know exactly what you’re capable of, Charlie,” Sir said. “An entire file at The Bunker is dedicated to your life stretching back to your childhood. I know everything there is to know about you that’s worth knowing. And you know nothing about me.”
“I know you’re here, locked away without your network of spies and assassins,” Charlie said. “And I know you’re going stir crazy in that cell. You give me some actionable, pertinent information, and I might be able to change that.”
“Quid pro quo?” Sir asked, smiling. “Look at you, Charlie. Look. At. You.” He attempted to lean back, but his restraints wouldn’t allow it. “I did misjudge you, didn’t I? That was my mistake. But if you think putting me in a box, locking me away, and keeping me uncomfortable will get me to talk, then you’re wasting your time. Because if you knew who I was, what I’d been through, you know that this”—he gestured to the cuffs—“has been a walk in the park.”
“That can be changed,” Charlie said.
“This is pointless, Charlie,” Sir said. “You and I both know it’s only a matter of time before my people find me.”
“And what makes you think any of your people are still alive?” Charlie asked.
“Because they’re my people,” Sir answered. “And when they come for me—which they will—I promise you, with every fiber of my being, that I will make you pay for your insurrection. I will take everything from you. Your home. Your life. Your family.”
The only reason Charlie had kept Sir alive was that Charlie wanted to know what else Sir had planned. The man was a mad genius when it came to designing schemes, and Charlie’s family’s survival depended on uncovering exactly what Sir had in store for them next.
“Have you used it yet?” Sir asked.
The “it” he referred to was the device Sir had commissioned that combatted the EMP's devastating effects.
“It’s quite remarkable,” Sir said. “I imagine it could do a lot of good here. And think of the control it could give you. People would think you’re a god.”
“I’ll come back later,” Charlie said. “Maybe another hour in here will loosen you up. Or maybe it will take a day, a week. Maybe it will take you sitting in your own filth to tell me what I want to know, but you will tell me.”
“Perhaps I will,” Sir said. “Or perhaps you won’t be alive to ask me.”
Charlie walked out of the room and back into the station, where Sheriff Thompson and Deputy Cash were waiting for him.
“Well?” Thompson asked.
“Nothing yet,” Charlie answered.
“If he won’t talk, what’s the point of keeping him here?” Cash asked.
“It’s better to keep him close,” Charlie answered. “Trust me.”
“How serious are his threats?” Thompson asked. “Are his people really coming?”
“If they are, we’ll be ready for them,” Charlie said, and then he headed for the door.
“And where are you going?” Cash asked.
“To prepare,” Charlie answered.
Shelly Owens stood on the front porch, wearing long sleeves and pants to cover her fair skin from the sun. She had tied her jet-black hair into a ponytail, accentuating her blue eyes, which were fixated on Harry and Maggie playing in the clearing near the cabin. They were lost in the worlds of their imagination, playing pretend and sprinting around with the exuberance of youth as the dog, which the kids affectionately had named Peanut Butter, chased them around happily, wagging its tail.
The children weren’t her own, and neither was the dog. Shelly had found them on the mainland, lost and afraid, their parents killed in the chaos of the EMP. She imagined there were thousands of orphans in the country now. And while Shelly couldn’t save all of them, she could help the two out in the yard.
Shelly’s own children had been kind to the new kids, and despite them only being here for a few days, Harry and Maggie had adapted well.
Of course, one day, they would have questions about their parents that Shelly couldn’t answer. But for now, they were content with the safety the island provided. A security Shelly and her family had been striving to keep intact.
