The future war, p.16
The Future War, page 16
“I took a CPR course,” she said.
“I took a general first-aid course,” the man said.
“Good,” John told them. “This is what we’ve got for supplies.” He paused, looking as grim as he felt. “We may need to take clothes from the dead to make bandages,” he said. The two in front of him looked horrified.
“I’ll do it.” John turned to find himself looking down at an older woman, red-eyed from weeping. “Had to stay with my husband,” she said, indicating a body nearby with a jacket covering the face. “I know he’d want to help. Won’t be the most sanitary bandages, but we need to stop the bleeding and clothes will do for that.”
She turned and went back to her husband. On the way she said something to another woman, who recoiled, then after watching her, started to do the same.
“We need shelter,” another woman said.
John turned to find Paul’s wife at his elbow. It occurred to him that he’d never learned her name. She smiled, tired.
“I’m Lisa,” she said. “I was just remembering something your mother said to me when we first met. Your priorities should be shelter, water, and food in that order. That’s what she said. But I don’t think we should stay here.”
“Maybe that’s what I should do,” John said. “Scout out someplace we can sleep tonight while you folks patch up the wounded as best you can.”
Lisa nodded. “Good plan.”
“I’ll be back,” John said. He went to his bike and revved the motor. Dammit, he thought as he drove off, I’m supposed to be leading, not asking permission or begging advice.
Still, it was a good sign. He could take these people to shelter, but they’d have to look out for themselves after that.
John Connor looked at the piled bodies. “Because I have a lot of work to do.”
Chapter 11
MISSOURI
Dennis Reese had gone about fifty yards before he realized that Mary wasn’t with him. He looked in all directions, then headed back along his trail to find her sitting on a boulder beneath a huge shagbark hickory, just coming into leaf. She was sitting with her legs crossed at the knee, leaning her chin on one fist, staring at nothing.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he said.
Mary just looked him over.
Now what? he wondered. “Hello?”
“I think we need to talk,” she said, sitting up.
“I think we need to get away from that thing.”
“We have, for the moment. Now we need to figure out what to do and where to go. I honestly don’t think the camp would be our best choice.”
He looked away from her, folding his arms across his chest, then took a few steps away from where she sat. Mary raised an eyebrow and one corner of her shapely mouth, but said nothing. He turned and they looked at each other, neither wanting to be the first to speak, until finally Mary rolled her eyes.
“Pull up a rock,” she said. “We could use a break at least.” After a beat she said, “I’m sorry I hit you.” Which she’d done a number of times as he dragged her into the trees. Hard.
Lucky she didn’t have any combat training, he thought. She hit as hard as she could…which is exactly what you should do in a situation like that. Too many untrained civilians just made symbolic hitting gestures, particularly women.
He waved her apology aside and sat down. “You’re taking this well,” he commented.
“Bullshit.” She sneered. “I’m taking this very badly and I’m thinking things that scare me.” She looked him in the eye. “But I’m not the type to run around in circles yelling ‘the sky is falling.’”
Reese lowered his eyes and nodded. He was taking this pretty badly himself. He kept hearing the sudden barrage of shots and the pitifully few screams from their abandoned patients. While it was true that most of those people were probably going to die anyway, exterminating them like that was vile. Especially if what Mary had overheard was true and they’d been deliberately infected in the first place.
“I hate to sound like a conspiracy nut,” the young nurse said, “but this couldn’t have happened without some sort of cooperation from elements in the army.”
What she’d said was a reflection of his own thoughts. “If you were a conspiracy nut, you’d have just said ‘the army,’” Reese pointed out.
Some of the tension visibly left her body. “It’s good that you caught the difference. Because, much as I’d like to think that what just happened was a nightmare…”
“Same here,” he agreed.
“So, is Yanik involved, or is he just following orders?” Mary asked.
Reese frowned. “I don’t know him well,” he said. “But I got the impression that he’s an all right guy. He’s not enthusiastic about running herd on a bunch of civilians, but then, none of us are. As for following orders, if they come from the right place, bearing the right names and codes, why wouldn’t he obey them? We did.”
“So the army’s been infiltrated.”
He spread his hands. “By what? Trailer trash?”
Mary tightened her lips. She’d been about to call him on his assumption that people who lived in trailers were automatically trash, when she realized she was just looking for a distraction.
“We’ve got to warn them,” she said.
“And how will we get them to believe us?” he asked.
“Well, we’ve got neither trucks, nor patients, and we can take them…back there,” she pointed out. “What do you think we should do? Hide out in the boonies and hope someone else takes care of the problem?”
He gave her a look. “How about we talk a little less and think a little more,” he suggested.
They were silent after that. Then Mary raised her head excitedly.
“Do you hear that?” she whispered.
The lieutenant strained his ears, and after a minute he heard a rushing sound.
“Water!” Mary exclaimed happily. “Let’s go find it.” She leapt to her feet and started off in the direction of the sound.
“Hey!” Reese said, but quietly and started off in pursuit. He’d just grabbed her arm when he heard the sound of a rifle being cocked.
“Who goes there?” a young voice barked.
Reese froze and Mary looked at him with eyes like saucers.
“Lieutenant Dennis Reese,” he said, carefully holding his hands away from his body, “U.S. Army Corps of Engineers.” He nodded meaningfully at his companion.
“Uh, Mary Shea, nurse.”
From out of the greenery came a slight figure in fatigues and camouflage paint carrying an M-16 pointed unwaveringly in their direction.
“You got ID?”
“Yes.” Reese reached for his orders.
“Slowly,” the youngster barked. “Using two fingers, take it out of your pocket and toss it to me.”
The lieutenant did as he was told; then he nodded at Mary, who slid a laminated badge from her pants pocket and tossed it over as well.
Not looking away for even an instant, the youngster stepped forward, scooped up the two IDs, and stepped back. Then, constantly flicking eyes from page to prisoners, he read them. “I’ll hold on to these for now,” the kid said. “I better take you in.”
Gesturing with the rifle for them to turn around and start walking, the youngster followed, barking out terse directions now and then. It seemed to Reese that occasionally he’d glimpse a human form disguised with brush and paint, but he honestly couldn’t be sure. Having a cocked automatic weapon behind his back, in the hands of someone barely old enough to shave, was nervous making enough.
Finally they came upon a cabin on the edge of a small clearing, overshadowed by a group of oaks sprouting from a rocky cleft; their massive writhing limbs formed a virtual platform over it. The cabin itself was notched logs chinked with mortar, the door and shutters weathered and splintered; it looked like thousands of others in varying stages of decay up here in the hollows of the Ozarks.
Hmm. Reese decided that appearances could be deceptive: despite the cabin’s rustic appearance there was a keypad under a wooden catch by the door. The kid gestured them to one side, then entered a code—carefully keeping his body between the pad and the prisoners, Reese noted. There was the sound of a lock being tripped and Mary and Reese were silently ordered to enter the cabin.
A man was seated at a rough-hewn table sipping from a tin cup.
“Daddy?” the kid said.
“Good job, honey,” the man said. “Just give me their papers and I’ll take it from here. Y’all get back to your post.”
Uh-oh, Reese thought. Good thing I didn’t make that joke about being too young to shave.
The girl, which they now saw her to be, grinned and pulled the two prisoners’ IDs out of her breast pocket. “Betcha they thought I was too young to shave,” she said, glancing aside at Reese. “Or at least this guy did.”
“Maybe you shave your legs,” Mary replied with a slight snort.
The girl handed the IDs over, saluted, and left, pulling the door closed behind her.
“Lieutenant Reese,” the man said, pursing his lips. “Army Corps of Engineers; always a useful occupation. And Nurse Shea.” He smiled a welcome at Mary. “We can always use someone trained in the medical profession,” he said sincerely. “Welcome to our little hideaway.”
“You survivalists?” Reese asked. He had a sinking feeling about this. He’d known a few survivalist nutcases in his time; some who were the kind who would decide to keep him and Mary as slaves on the grounds that they would help him survive. He’d known a few who weren’t crazy, but the way today was going, what were the odds he’d meet a sane one?
“I’m Jack Brock,” the man said. “That was my daughter, Susie. Sit down, take a load off,” he invited. “Have some mint tea.”
Reese and Mary looked at each other, then sat down.
“Yeah,” Brock said, pouring them each a cup. “We’re survivalists.” Grimly: “At least, we’re surviving, which most people on this continent haven’t, the past couple of months. And more.” He looked up at them, smiling. “But before we get into my story, why don’t we hear yours?”
The two prisoners glanced at each other again. If he’d been the perfect soldier facing an undoubted enemy, the lieutenant knew what he would do. But…Why not? Reese thought. Might as well see how it sounds when we say it out loud to a third party.
“We’re from the Black River Relocation Camp,” he began.
“Black River is one of the good camps,” Brock interrupted.
“You wouldn’t believe some of the stories we’ve heard about some of the others.”
Once again Dennis and Mary gave each other worried looks. This is getting monotonous, Reese thought. Either we develop telepathy, or we should invent a couple of signals…like, one finger means “what should we do?” and two means “should we trust him?” So we can just hold them up as necessary.
“We’ve been having a cholera epidemic,” Mary explained.
“Suddenly we got orders to send the sickest of our patients to a central hospital. Where that would be they didn’t say.”
“Meanwhile I got orders to report to central command for reassignment and was told to accompany the trucks they sent for the patients.”
“I had overheard some men talking in a way that implied they were deliberately spreading the contagion, so I was requested to go along, too…so that I could be questioned.”
“We set out this morning,” Reese said. “But instead of being taken to any central command, we were dumped in the middle of nowhere.”
“The trucks stopped and these people literally threw my patients out of the trucks. Then they drove off and left us there.” Mary looked at Reese.
Do I tell him what happened next? the lieutenant wondered. So far everything made sense. But the killing machine was another, and much harder-to-believe, story.
Brock sipped his tea and waited for them to continue. When they didn’t he put his cup down and looked between them. “And your patients?” he said at last. “What happened to them?”
Mary looked down into her tea. “This thing came out of the woods and shot them.”
Brock looked at her for a moment, then glanced at Reese, who nodded. The survivalist sighed. “What you just saw,” he said, “was what’s called a Hunter-Killer. HK, for short. It’s a machine designed to hunt down and kill any human being; high-level robot brain, built-in weapons, fuel-cell power supply.”
The two just stared at him. Reese pulled his jaw up, hoping he didn’t look as poleaxed as Mary.
“Have you ever heard of Skynet?” Brock asked.
They nodded. “The DoD super-computer,” Reese said.
“Well, Skynet isn’t just a computer anymore. It’s sentient, and it’s decided that we’re its enemies and that it’s got to kill us all. It’s taken over all the automated factories and has them turning out machines like the one you saw. And since the military foolishly turned over all of its computer functions to Skynet, that computer now controls our military. It’s been sending out all kinds of orders and directives.
“Not just supposedly from the army and so forth, mind you, but also from the civilian leadership. Which, like the upper echelons of the military, no longer exists.” Brock stopped and let them take it in.
“How can you be sure of that?” Reese asked.
Brock leaned back with a sigh. “All those VIPs ran to all those hardened bunkers, leaving you and me and the rest of the world to deal with Armageddon while they waited it out in cushioned comfort. Unfortunately for them, the same fools that gave Skynet control of all the weapons also gave it control of such minor functions as the life support for those same hardened bunkers.” He started to chuckle, then waved a hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. But I always did kind of resent those guys.”
“Me, too,” Mary said. Reese glanced at her in surprise.
“Further,” Brock continued, “none of our fearless leaders has actually been seen. We’ve heard broadcasts on the radio advising us to keep up our spirits and to report to the camps, but they’ve never visited any camps.” He leaned forward, wagging a finger. “And I betcha if you asked around in the military, nobody’s seen any generals, either.”
Reese sipped his tea and reflected that he had been thinking that things weren’t as organized as they should be. More like you’d expect World War II to have been.
“The big worry now,” Brock said, “is that Skynet actually has human allies. Deluded fools who think they’re saving the earth by depopulating it. They’re under the impression that they’ll get to live in bucolic splendor. But actually, as soon as it has enough machines, Skynet’ll be killing them, too.” He pointed at Mary. “So you heard right, little lady. They probably did start that epidemic. And you two”—he gestured between them—“must have rocked the boat somehow, so they want you both dead. So, if you do go back to the relocation camp and try to tell them this story, which the innocent won’t believe anyway, they’ll just pack you off to ‘central command’ again. Only this time the guilty will send some of Skynet’s human helpers along to make sure you don’t get away next time.”
Dennis and Mary thought about it.
Finally Mary shook her head. “But we have to do something,” she said. “Someone is deliberately poisoning people in the Black River Camp. We can’t just sit by and do nothing. How can we fight this if we just hide out?”
“Okay,” Brock said. “Say they catch these guys red-handed putting their poison in the water, or however they’re spreading it. What happens next?”
Dennis shifted uncomfortably. “They’ll contact HQ and lay out their case.”
“And HQ will do what?”
“They’ll have the prisoners and the evidence and maybe even some of the witnesses sent to, uh, central command,” Mary said.
“Never to be seen again,” Brock concluded. “Look, people, you’ve done your best by warning them about what you overheard. Now you have to decide where your efforts will do the most good. We’re gaining strength here all the time. A lot of army and National Guard guys have joined us because of things they’ve seen that convinced them something skanky is going on.”
“Deserters,” Dennis said grimly.
“Can you desert an organization that doesn’t really exist anymore?” Brock asked.
“We have no evidence of that,” the lieutenant protested. “An absence of evidence isn’t evidence of absence.”
Brock studied him silently. “I shouldn’t do this,” he said. “But I’ve got a feeling about you two.” He stood up. “C’mon with me, I want to show y’all something.” With a gesture he included Mary. “Have you ever heard of Sarah Connor?”
Dennis blinked. “Yeah, she made an announcement before the bombs fell, telling people what was going on.”
“So you believed her?” Brock said. He’d led them into another room of the cabin.
Reese rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I guess I did. Maybe not everything she said.”
“Not at the time anyway,” Brock said with a grin. “She’s a very smart lady. I won’t bother you with how, but she knew this was coming. So she recruited us, she financed us, and she taught us everything she could to help us survive. Let’s be honest, folks; if you don’t believe her now then you’re in denial.”
He pressed a series of knotholes in the paneling and a section of flooring swung up silently. Mary looked down into the hole where a wooden ladder disappeared in the darkness.
“What’s down there?” she asked. “The Batcave?”
Brock laughed at that. “The Batcave. I like it. Go on down; the lights will come on automatically when you get to the bottom.”
Mary just looked at him suspiciously, so Dennis went first. As promised, when his foot touched the dirt floor, a light went on. It was dim, but serviceable. Down a short corridor was a metal door; on the doorpost beside it was a keypad. Mary came down next, followed by Brock.
He led them along the short corridor and, blocking the keypad with his body, keyed in a code. The lock gave and he opened the door. They found themselves in a small, well-lit room containing a computer, a desk and chair, a file cabinet, and a young man of perhaps seventeen.
