Amsterdam apocalypse, p.18
Amsterdam Apocalypse, page 18
A hoarse whisper came from the entrance of a building. “Major. Over here.”
A gunshot sounded and the major ducked into the building. Two more shots were fired. Jacob and Flanary rushed into the ground floor of the building after the major, finding three soldiers inside, each with their M4s resting on burned out windowsills and pointed in the direction of a large cluster of trees.
“Situation report, sergeant,” the major said, taking a position next to one of the soldiers.
“Corporal Bradley reported four males approaching his position. When he and his men confronted them, they fired and fled. One was hit and downed; the other three are in the trees and have been firing randomly at us as we move around. Sergeant Burke and Corporal Bradley are pinned down in the trees kitty-cornered from us. We've returned fire but can't tell if we've hit anything.”
“Any idea who they are or why they attacked?”
“Gang members,” Jacob said, drawing the attention of everyone present. “They attacked us just after we put our plane down a few miles away. We had a running fight with them all the way here but thought we lost them after we entered the property.”
Jacob moved to an empty windowsill and looked out. What were these guys doing? They had the advantage of the tree cover and from having approached the property the same way, he knew they could easily escape through the backside of the cluster. Why were they continuing to randomly engage heavily armed soldiers?
He moved over to the major and leaned in close. “We need to draw these guys out and end this. Whatever it is that they're up to, we can't sit here and exchange bullets with them all night.”
“You think this is a diversion for something else?”
“That's the only reason I can think of for what they're doing. Why else would they continue to engage when they've got a clear avenue of escape through the backside of those trees?”
The major looked at the ground and then back at Jacob. “But a diversion for what? There's been no reports of any problems from the other sectors.”
Jacob shook his head and mouthed the words, “I don't know.”
“Okay. What do you propose?”
Jacob looked around. The building was badly burned out, but some of its interior was still intact, including a set of steps leading up. “Any idea what's on the upper floors?”
“None. But I'm guessing it's more burnt rubble and some pretty unstable architecture.”
“There's gotta be some windows up there. If we can get a few guys in place overlooking those trees, we can draw fire with a couple of runners. The barrel flash ought to give away their positions and we can rain down bullets, hopefully taking them out or causing them to run.”
The major nodded his agreement.
“Who's the fastest?”
The answer was obvious as Jacob looked around the room. Two of the soldiers were young, maybe not even out of their teens. Their thin frames and less muscular bodies made them the ideal choices.
“Specialists Combs and Edwards. Front and center.”
“Yes, sir.”
The two teens presented themselves in front of the major, one of them exiting a position by the windowsill and allowing another soldier to step in. The major brought them up to speed on the plan and they exchanged nervous glances as they accepted the orders.
“Sir, are you sure about it being both of us? Won't the second one out be—”
“You'll be going in different directions,” Jacob said. “One to the cluster of trees where your other men are pinned down and the other to the building across the way.”
The soldiers looked at Jacob and back at the major, who nodded his confirmation. “Sergeant Craft has a lot of field experience. His word's as good as mine until we're out of this. Clear?”
A hushed yes, sir passed through the room nearly in unison.
“Sergeant Cranston, Corporal Minnix—you two are upstairs. Third floor or higher.”
“Second floor,” Jacob corrected. “No higher. The line of fire will be more direct.”
The men readied their M4s with new magazines and climbed the steps, the weakened wood creaking beneath their weight. When they indicated that they were in position, the two specialists approached the door and prepared to leave the safety of the building.
“On my count,” the major said. “One—two—”
Chapter Thirty-Five
A radio on the belt of one of the sergeants crackled. “Command, this is Corporal Reid. We have a problem at the front gate.”
The major held his hand out for the radio. When the sergeant had placed it in his hand, he brought the unit to his mouth and pressed the transmit button. “This is Major Bennett. What's the problem, corporal? Over.”
“Sir, the crowd's grown. They're coming out of the neighborhoods across the street. Some of the houses there appear to be on fire. There's at least a hundred of them now and more on the way. They're climbing the fences, sir. Over.”
Jacob could hear the sound of yelling over the radio.
“Dammit.” The major looked around as he thought about his options. He pressed the transmit button again. “Are they coming over or just climbing up? Over.”
“Just climbing up, sir. But it won't be long. They're getting pretty riled up. A group of men arrived in a black Lincoln a few minutes ago. They seem to be eggin' the crowd on, sir. Over.”
The major looked at Jacob and pressed the button again. “Stay in position and advise me of any change, corporal.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What the hell is going on?”
“They're scared,” Jacob said. “They're beginning to riot. When we flew over a while ago, it looked like some of the neighborhoods closer to downtown were already burning. Obviously the problem's spreading.”
The major took a deep breath. “I don't have the people to control a crowd that size.”
“Then we should try to talk to them. Find out what it is they think they want—what they think they've seen going on here that's got them so angry.”
The major studied the charred cinder block walls.
“It's only going to get worse. Pretty soon, they'll have the entire property surrounded and we'll have to fight our way out. And nothing good comes of that.”
“Alright. If those are the options then you're right. Talking to them is best.”
“First, we have to get out of here so the plan stays. On the count of three, the two of you make a run for it.”
Jacob looked at the various parties involved. The two specialists were ready to go and the sergeant from upstairs who had come halfway down to listen gave a nod and retreated to his position in a second-floor window.
“One—two—three!”
The first specialist raised his M4 and left the doorway, firing rapidly as he ran for the cover of the trees across the sidewalk from them. The soldiers in the trees responded by firing in the same direction to cover him. Seconds later, the next man left, firing a few times before turning and running for the doorway of a nearby building. Again, the soldiers in the trees tried to cover him with suppressive fire.
Just as Jacob had hoped, the sound of gunshots came from the trees where the thugs were held up. The soldiers on the second floor responded with automatic gunfire, easily drowning out the semi-automatic weapons.
“Hold your fire!” one of the second-floor soldiers yelled. He appeared at the top of the steps a moment later. “We've got two on the run across the field toward the rear gate.”
“Let them go,” Jacob said. “You and you.” He pointed at the two soldiers in the ground-floor windows. “Come with me. V-formation. If it moves in those trees, shoot it.” He raised his Beretta and left the building, running toward the cluster of trees where the thugs had been hiding.
With his eyes thoroughly adjusted to the darkness, the trees didn't present as dark a hiding spot as they once had. The closer he got, the more he could see. He bounded down a small incline and into the tree line. The branches hung low, but the trees were tall, allowing him to see through the cluster and into the field beyond. Just as the second-floor soldiers had said, he could see two men running toward the gate that Flanary had driven through with the broken down Ford Explorer. He stopped running and aimed his pistol around.
“Ugh...”
A single man dressed in black denim lay near the base of a tree, his white t-shirt rapidly turning a dark red. The man looked up at him and breathed heavily. Jacob recognized him as the leader of the thugs who had approached him when he was hiding beside the plane. He kicked the man's pistol away. Judging by the blood coming from the man's mouth, he'd been hit critically and would be dead in a matter of minutes.
“We're clear,” he said to the two soldiers behind him.
They lowered their rifles and one withdrew a radio. “All clear. I repeat; all clear.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Jacob left the cluster of trees and moved onto the driveway that ran in an oval around the entire property. Lying in the middle of the pavement was the body of the first of the thugs to have been killed. Jacob nudged the man's head with his foot to get a better look at the wound that had taken his life—a single bullet to the head just above the eyes.
“Now what?” the major asked, approaching from the burned out building.
“Now we try to talk to the people at the gates and hope we can calm this whole thing down. Where's Abernathy? He needs to be there. He's the politician.”
“I'll send someone to get him,” the major said, turning to one of his soldiers. “Corporal Bradley.” A soldier snapped to and presented himself. “Go to the third-floor living quarters and ask Governor Abernathy to join us, will you?”
“Yes, sir,” the corporal said, looking at Jacob instead of his commanding officer.
Jacob recognized him as the corporal who'd been about to shoot them as they entered. The side of his face was now a bluish welt from Jacob's fist, the only thing that had prevented him from opening fire.
The corporal narrowed his eyes, gave a slight smirk, and moved off to obey the major's orders.
Jacob watched him leave and then looked back at the body of the thug in the driveway.
“What is it?” the major asked.
“Nothing. I hope,” Jacob said, turning away from the body. “The gate at the back of the property—the one we used to enter—it needs to be secured. Have some men get some tools and get to it.”
“I'll take that duty,” Flanary said from the doorway of the building. “I'm the mechanic after all.”
Jacob nodded. “Great. Take two guys with you and when you're done, station one of them in this cluster of trees as a look out. The fences aren't high enough to prevent people from jumping them, but they should draw some attention doing it. A warning that they're coming would be great.”
“Privates Murphy and Dudley. There must be a tool shed or maintenance department around here somewhere. Find it and go with him to fix the gate. When that's done, I want the two of you on guard duty in those trees just as Sergeant Craft has suggested.”
“Yes, sir.”
Flanary left with the two privates.
“I want the rest of you back at your stations or on your patrols.”
“Sir, what about him?” one of the soldiers asked, looking at the dead body.
The major looked at Jacob.
“Pull him into the cluster of trees next to the other one we just killed. There's nothing we can do with either of them right now.”
The major made the order official with a nod. Two of the soldiers each grabbed an arm and dragged the body away.
“Let's get to the gates and try to head this thing off,” Jacob said, his voice just above a whisper.
He followed as the major led the way back through the winding maze of sidewalks to the main entrance of the hospital. As they approached, the doors slid open and Corporal Bradley appeared with Scott Abernathy and one of his staffers.
“Thank you, corporal. You can return to your post now.”
“Yes, sir.”
The corporal left, eying Jacob as he did. Jacob stared back.
“What's happened?” Abernathy asked, tightening his tie.
The major brought him up to speed as the staffer helped him into a suit coat and smoothed any wrinkles in the material.
“Let's do it then,” Abernathy said. “Any idea who these people are?”
“None whatsoever.”
“How many men do you have on the front gate?” Jacob asked.
“Two. One in each of the two tree clusters.”
They left the main entrance, walked through a tree-covered parking lot, and onto a half moon road that led between the two gated entrances.
“One percent! Discontent! One percent! We'll torment!”
The shouts grew louder as they drew closer to the wrought iron fence that ran across the front of the facility, giving it a manor-like appearance. Standing along the fence, and some on it, protestors howled and pumped their fists in the air as they approached. Abernathy held his hands up in an effort to quiet the crowd, but they only howled louder and shouted obscenities.
“Quiet! Quiet! Please!”
Abernathy's words had no effect. He turned to Jacob and the major with a shrug. What did they do now? A blast of sound answered their question. From the sidewalk opposite the fence, the driver of a black Lincoln with deeply tinted glass and oversized rims flashed its lights and sounded the modified horn—a train whistle that easily drowned out the noise made by the shouting protestors. The crowd turned to face the Lincoln and quieted as the driver exited, opened the rear door, and allowed a lanky black man in a solid black suit to step out, placing a matching black fedora on his head as he did. The man held his hands up and like Moses parting the Red Sea, walked toward the fence, the crowd clearing before him and closing back in behind him.
“Well, well, well,” he said, grinning and stroking his long goatee. “Finally decided to grace us lowly serfs with your mighty presence, did you?”
Abernathy stepped forward, nearly meeting the man face to face with only the wrought iron fence between them. “My name is Scott Abernathy. I'm the elected attorney general of Virginia and as of this morning, the acting governor of our state. I'd like to talk about this gather—”
“Moses didn't talk with the sorcerers and conjurers of Egypt—the worshipers of snakes—he talked to Pharaoh and so will I.” The man looked beyond Abernathy to where Jacob and the major stood, now flanked by the two armed soldiers who had been keeping watch in the trees. “You,” he said, pointing to Jacob. “I will talk to you.”
Jacob stepped up to the fence next to Abernathy. “You've got the wrong man. You heard the governor identify himself—he's in charge here.”
“No, no, no,” the man said, shaking his head and clicking his tongue. “I see the mark of God on you. You and I are the same—shepherds of men—protectors of the Lord's flock—Moses and Joshua. Now, let us talk together as brothers do.”
Abernathy—clearly perplexed by the man's strange talk—shrugged and returned to his staffer who stood with the major and two soldiers.
The man began to walk along the edge of the fence, the protestors giving him a wide birth. Jacob followed. What else could he do? It didn't matter to him who the man wanted to talk to as long as they could come to an agreement that would avoid a potentially violent conflict from erupting.
“You see, six years ago, I saved these people—my people,” the man began. “I led them out of Egypt, and on the shores of the Red Sea the waters parted; they saw God's power—my power. We drove out the enemy, made our lines in the sand, and have lived in peace with our neighbors ever since. But now the darkness has returned and my people are afraid.”
“If these are your people and this is your land—why are they burning it down?”
The man looked over his shoulder at the neighborhood behind him where flames licked the sky from houses that were now completely engulfed. “They bow down again at the feet of the golden calf and stray from the Lord's narrow path. And like Moses on the mountain, they look to me—Reverend Nine—for their salvation.”
“And what does salvation through Reverend Nine look like?”
“It looks like the enemy once again fleeing before me.”
“And we're the enemy.”
“And you're the enemy.”
Jacob looked at the ground and shook his head. “It doesn't have to be that way. We're just like you. If I understood any of what you just said correctly, it sounds like there was a war here six years ago. It sounds like you stepped up and solved a problem between two groups of people and you've been walking a fine line ever since—one-half leader, one-half follower. I can relate in a lot of ways. You give them what they want and they stay loyal. But they keep coming back for more, and now with the power out and what you've built facing its greatest test, you're beginning to see the cracks in the foundation and you're wondering if you can keep it all together. You're wondering if it's going to snap like the toothpick it always was, leaving desperation and death in its wake. I've been there—I am there.”
Jacob was taking a complete stab in the dark. Despite a vague familiarity with certain Bible stories, the man seemed completely unhinged. Jacob had no doubt that he'd done what he said—he'd fought someone for control of this territory after the pandemic and had obviously won. But Jacob was guessing that what Reverend Nine had built in the interim wasn't a self-sustaining community like Amsterdam, but rather a sort of monarchy centered around himself—a cult of personality where the people served him instead him serving them. And now, with the network of probably violent loyalists he'd built up around himself, unable to continue twisting the economy of society at large to his benefit, he was being forced to direct the ire of his people elsewhere to avoid them seeing him for what he truly was—an incompetent figurehead in need of replacement.
