The future war, p.10
The Future War, page 10
“I have orders to assist your group in transporting civilians to the relocation camp in British Columbia,” he’d said. He took out a paper and presented it to her.
Her heart soared. She’d been thinking that it would take a hundred and fifty years to get even a fraction of these people to the disposal camps. Now she was being offered a convoy of fifteen buses and twenty trucks. Bliss! Dog Soldier was walking slowly toward them, hands in his pockets, to see what the situation was. She turned to him with an open and very genuine smile.
“Look!” she’d said, holding up the paper. “The army has been recruited to help us move civilians to safety.”
His face had split in a grin. “That’s wonderful!”
Balewitch had turned back to the lieutenant. “We were so worried. This seemed like such an impossible task.”
Dog offered his hand, which the soldier shook. “Can’t thank you enough, man. And thank God for those Canadians, eh?”
The lieutenant had smiled and nodded, then looked at a loss, and Balewitch realized that he was one of those people with rank, but little initiative. She grinned a little wider. Whoever “Ron Labane” was, he was a genius at selecting personnel.
She took the young soldier by the arm and walked him toward the vehicles he’d brought. “Why don’t we put the women and children in the buses,” she suggested. “And the men can ride in the trucks.”
“Good idea, ma’am. We’ll do that as much as possible.” He walked off to organize it.
Balewitch turned to Dog Soldier. “I love it!” she whispered. “They’ll arrive presorted. No nasty scenes when they’re separated at the camp! We’ll just have the women driven one way and the men the other. This is great!”
“It is that,” he agreed.
Balewitch and Dog had offered to drive the lead truck since “they knew the route so well” and the lieutenant had happily agreed. The poor stooge was so agreeable that Balewitch foresaw them doing this dozens of times before he became even slightly suspicious. Life was good!
Missouri
“Goddammit, why can’t I contact anyone?” Reese muttered.
It should have been getting warmer, but the weather had stayed like early spring; luckily, here in southeastern Missouri that was warm enough for things to grow. The fields around the country schoolhouse were coming up, green shoots pushing through the flat black soil—soybeans, mostly, with some corn. It would all be useful come fall, very useful indeed. The smell of it was comforting as he paced through the parking lot, a yeasty scent of growth.
And that’s about the only comfort I’ve got, he thought. The country’s been wrecked, and I can’t get anyone to talk to me! Surely the chain of command can’t be that completely broken!
He’d stayed at the high school trying to be of help and had succeeded in convincing some of the parents to give rides to his work crew who were local men. He and the sergeant had come in from different states, and so, unless they could come up with some form of transportation, they were stuck.
“I wonder when we’ll start school again,” the principal had asked.
“That would be up to the local government,” Dennis told her. “The main problem here is going to be transportation. Gas and oil are going to be like gold. At least for a while.”
She nodded and was silent for a time. “I suppose there must be plans somewhere for this sort of event. In the fifties, I probably would have been able to put my hand right on it. But in the fifties, this school didn’t even exist.” She shrugged. “I’m at a loss.”
“Me, too,” Reese said with a rueful smile. “I’m considering commandeering a bicycle and hying myself to the nearest military base.”
“Make that a bicycle built for two, sir,” his sergeant said.
Dennis grinned at him and slapped him on the shoulder. “We’re needed out there,” he said to the principal. “I’m an engineer and the army can never have too many sergeants.”
“My husband used to say that.” Her smile was nostalgic. “He was a major.”
Before she could say more, a man of about seventy walked in. “Something’s going on and I don’t like it!” he snapped.
Dennis assumed the old man had come looking for him. Since he and his crew had shown up at the high school, he’d more or less become, in the eyes of the community at least, some sort of military authority.
“Jack Gruder,” the principal said in introduction.
“What is it, sir?” Reese asked politely. He assumed that the old man hadn’t gone to the police because they were both understaffed and overworked during this emergency. Meaning it could literally take days for the police to get to your problem.
“Some army guys in a truck showed up at my son-in-law’s place and took ’em away.” The old man stared at Reese indignantly.
“They did?” Dennis looked at the sergeant, who looked hopeful at the news. Maybe they’d be on their way today if they could get in touch with these guys. “Did they say why?”
“I don’t know why! I didn’t get near enough to ask. I could see from the way they were behavin’ that they weren’t askin’ my daughter to get on that truck.”
“What about your son-in-law?” the sergeant asked.
“Him, too,” Gruder snapped. “That boy never did have any gumption.”
“His father was too strict with him,” the principal said.
“He has no backbone. Never did.”
The principal tightened her lips and said nothing. Dennis chalked her reaction up to long experience with opinionated parents.
“Do you have any idea where they might have gone next?” he asked Gruder.
“Well, how the hell would I know? I don’t even know what they wanted with my daughter!”
“Well, what direction did they go in, and what would lie in that direction?”
The old man thought about it, looking at Reese suspiciously. “I guess they were heading east, toward the Boucher place.”
“How about if you took me and the sergeant and we tried to catch up with them?” Reese suggested.
“I dunno. Haven’t got that much gas left,” the old man grumbled.
“I thought you wanted to know what happened to your daughter,” Dennis said.
“Well, of course I want…” The old man glared at him, then took his keys out of his pocket. “Okay, get your stuff,” he finally said.
Dennis indicated his rumpled uniform. “This is my stuff.”
“Me, too,” the sergeant said.
“Then let’s go,” Gruder told them, and stalked off.
“Thank you,” Dennis said to the principal.
“Good luck,” she said. “Come see us again sometime.”
They’d been driving for about forty minutes and Gruder was muttering nonstop about his gas when they spotted the olive-green truck. Reese reached over and honked the horn, earning an indignant glare from the driver. But the truck ahead of them slowed down and pulled over; the back was crowded with civilians, many of them looking thin and worn.
Reese hopped out of Gruder’s truck and trotted over to the transport. “Lieutenant Dennis Reese,” he said to the driver when he came up to the cab. “Army Corps of Engineers.” He couldn’t help but notice that the driver’s uniform didn’t match the designation on the side of the truck. A trickle of unease went through him. “What outfit are you with?”
“National Guard, sir.”
Reese gestured at the door. “This is a Regular Army truck,” he pointed out. “Seventh Light.”
“Yes, sir. And thank God it doesn’t have a mind of its own.”
Reese nodded. “What’s going on here, Corporal? Where are you taking these people?”
“They’re centralizing supply distribution,” the driver said. “So we’re taking people to a relocation camp where there’ll be food and medical care.”
Made sense, but…“I haven’t heard anything about this,” Dennis said.
“I wouldn’t know anything about that, sir. I just pick people up. But I guess they’re doing things as best they can.”
Reese considered that. If the army was cooperating with the National Guard, there would have to be a considerable amount of improvising and no doubt certain things would fall through the cracks.
“Would you care to come with us, sir?” the corporal asked. “It’s a bit crowded back there, but I think we can still offer you a lift.”
“I’ll take you up on that,” Reese said. “Just let me tell our friend back there what’s going on.”
“He can come, too,” the driver offered.
“I’ll tell him,” the lieutenant said, “but I doubt he’ll leave his truck behind. Where’s this camp located?”
“The Germantown fairground,” the corporal said.
Reese nodded and went to tell Gruder.
“Somethin’s not right here,” the old man said, glaring at the transport.
“Nothing’s been right since the bombs fell, sir. You’re invited to come with us if you like.”
“I’m not about to abandon my truck, young man!”
“That’s what I told the corporal,” Dennis said with a grin. Then he turned serious. “But if they’re centralizing supplies, then they won’t be delivering any to this area. That means when you run out, there won’t be any more.”
“Then maybe I’ll look for this camp of theirs.” Gruder scowled fiercely. “Think my daughter will be all right, then?”
“I’m sure she will, sir.”
“All right, then. I guess it makes sense to do it this way.” Gruder shook his head. “Just wish they’d told us first.”
As Reese and the sergeant walked to the transport, the old man turned his Chevy and drove off.
“Think he’ll be all right?” the sergeant asked.
“As all right as any of us.” Dennis glanced over his shoulder at the disappearing truck. “Yeah. He’s a self-sufficient old coot. He’ll be fine.” He hoped that his father was all right. He hoped he’d be able to find out soon.
British Columbia
When they arrived at the camp Balewitch instructed the guards to direct the buses and the first two trucks to the women’s section and the others to the men’s. The guards nodded, eying the military uniforms of the drivers warily. She looked up and saw Orc coming out of his office, a grim look on his ascetic face.
The camp itself resembled photos she’d seen of Nazi concentration camps, or even the American concentration camps where the Japanese had been imprisoned during World War II. Barbed-wire fences and large, stark buildings, guard towers, and klieg lights on tall poles left an impression on the mind. The movies usually didn’t include the gray, sloppy mud and the sour smell, though.
She knew that most of the inmates were horrified at their first glimpse of the place. It always took a degree of happy talk to calm them down and endless assurances that this was only temporary, that they’d be moving on in less than ten days.
Balewitch nearly split a gut when Orc said, “You should see the look on the Jews’ faces when we offer them a shower.”
She and Dog got out of the truck and it drove off. It was amazing how quickly they’d gotten used to that. Well, she supposed it was easy when you were in no danger yourself.
“What’s going on?” Orc asked them quietly when he got close.
Balewitch handed him a copy of the lieutenant’s orders. He read them quickly and looked up at her, astonishment in his eyes. She nodded and he smiled slowly.
“This should speed things up nicely,” Orc said with satisfaction.
“I assume that Ron hasn’t neglected our other holiday camps,” Dog said.
Orc shook his head in wonder. “I have no idea. Let’s go ask him.” He turned to lead the way to his office and the computer that still connected them to the mysterious “Ron Labane.”
“Wait a minute,” Balewitch said. The young lieutenant had hopped down from one of the trucks and was approaching.
“Sir, are you in charge here?” the young soldier asked, his boyish face crunched into an expression of concern.
Orc nodded and smiled. “Sam LaGrange,” he said heartily, and stuck out his hand. “And you are?”
“Lieutenant Ron Goldberg.” He gestured at the camp. “This place…” Words seemed to literally fail him.
“Yeah, it’s pretty raw,” Orc said. “But then it went up in an incredible hurry and it’s just a temporary refuge. A staging area before these people will be sent on to Canadian towns and cities for a more permanent arrangement. As you know, the Canadians suffered less than the U.S. did.”
The lieutenant still looked uncomfortable with his surroundings, but he was clearly making an effort not to show it. “Come to that,” Goldberg said, “Alaska didn’t get hit as hard as the rest of the country. Why couldn’t we just leave people in their homes?”
“We’re expecting an early and extremely harsh winter because of all the dust in the upper atmosphere,” Orc explained. “Canada is advising all of its citizens in this area to move south as well. As you might expect, heating oil is going to be scarce this winter.”
“Ah,” Goldberg said wisely. “Of course.” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe it really happened.”
“I honestly think it was an accident,” Balewitch said.
“Well, whatever happened, I guess I’m more or less on permanent assignment to this mission. Where do these people go from here?”
“Various places,” Orc said. “I haven’t had time to compile statistics yet. We just take ’em in, move ’em out.”
“Roll, rope, and brand ’em,” Dog said. They all laughed, leaving the lieutenant confused. “Old TV show,” Dog explained.
“Ohhh,” Goldberg said, smiling politely.
Orc raised a hand and a guard trotted over. “Please escort the lieutenant and his men to the guest quarters when they’ve disembarked their passengers,” he said. “That’s building nine in the east quadrant.” It was the newest building, so far unused, and far enough from the other parts of the camp to isolate the soldiers from the civilian “guests.” “You can park your vehicles in that area, too, Lieutenant.”
“Thank you, sir,” Goldberg said. He saluted and Orc returned it without missing a beat. “I look forward to working with you.”
“Likewise,” Orc said. “I’m sincerely grateful for your help.”
The three Luddites smiled warmly at the lieutenant in the manner of people waiting for someone to go away. Goldberg smiled, waved awkwardly, and followed the guard in the direction the trucks had taken.
Orc turned and led them to his office. When they were safely inside he turned to them, an expression of wonder on his austere face. “He’s perfect.”
“He is that,” Balewitch agreed. “I am looking forward to working with him.”
“Let’s relay our congratulations to Ron,” Dog suggested, “and see if he has any more surprises for us.”
Chapter 8
ALASKA
John hugged his mother, feeling the hard muscle over the delicate bones. She was heading to South America to organize shipments of food and supplies. Their contacts there had confirmed that most countries below the equator had survived very well by comparison with the United States. That didn’t mean there wouldn’t be plenty of danger for his mother to deal with.
He put his hands on her shoulders and looked down into her face for a long time. The gray light of morning made her look older than she was…
But we’re not getting any younger, any of us, he thought. And if we’re being completely truthful in here, I’m a little scared. She’s been my tower of strength all my life—even when I thought she was completely crazy. Even when she was crazy and I had to call her on the let’s-kill-everything stuff…
“You be careful,” he said sternly.
“Spoilsport,” she said with a grin, thumping his chest lightly. “I was planning to party my way down the Pan-American Highway.”
He laughed. “I’m gonna miss you, Mom.”
“’Course you are,” Sarah agreed. “I’ll miss you, too. But you don’t need me.” She looked up at him, pride shining in her eyes.
“I’ll always need you, Mom.” He put his arm around her shoulders and walked her toward her motorcycle. “A guy needs his mom.” He gave her another quick hug. “Don’t get killed,” he warned.
“Back atcha,” she said.
Then she turned to Dieter. They’d said good-bye last night with an almost desperate passion. It might be years before they saw each other again. He gave her a sad smile and opened his arms. She walked into them and hugged him around his trim waist, leaning her head against his chest, listening to the firm rhythm of his heart.
“I love you,” she whispered.
He cupped her head with one big hand. “I love you, too.”
She reached up and brought his head down for a kiss. When it was over they gazed into each other’s eyes like young lovers. She smiled.
“It’s not forever,” he said.
“No,” she agreed briskly. She picked up her helmet. “Just longer than I’d like. Take care of yourself.”
“What was it you said? Back atcha.”
Sarah grinned and mounted the Harley, an older model they’d fixed to run on alcohol. They’d figured that would be more available than gasoline. And when worse came to worst they could manufacture the stuff. She kicked-started the big machine and with a wave started off. Sarah didn’t even try to look behind; the helmet would hinder her visibility and she didn’t feel like spoiling her exit by falling off the damn bike.
Maybe with me gone, John will find himself a nice girl, she thought. Or a bad one. She understood his grief and guilt at losing Wendy, she really did. But it wasn’t right for a healthy young man like John to show no interest in the opposite sex. Maybe a bad girl would be better, then; there’d be less resistance to slipping between the sheets.
John’s so honorable, that could stop the whole program. I raised me a good man there.
Though Sarah feared it was some subliminal fear that his mother would put the evil eye on his sweetie. Which might be because she was feeling some residual guilt over her treatment of Wendy. Given the way things turned out. So, maybe with her out of the way, the emotional logjam would break and the next time she saw him he’d have a girl beside him with a baby in her arms.
