Alea Jacta Est: A Novel of the Fall of America (Future History of America Book 1) (27 page)

“Daaaaaaamn!”
said Tahru into the radio.  “Homeboy took dem fuckers down da block!” he
grinned, watching the second attack chopper explode in mid-air.  The bigger
vehicles turned and raced away.

“
Both
Apaches are destroyed?
” asked Malcolm’s voice, a slight edge to it.

“Yeah, man—blew
the
fuck
out of ‘em!”

“
That is
our sign from Allah, my Brothers
,” Malcolm’s voice came in now on all
frequencies used by the Brotherhood.  “
Take what is ours, my Brothers—what
the Man has given us.  Harvest our crops!
”

Tahru
scrambled to the edge of his burned out office and looked out in the gathering
darkness as a few dozen dark figures emerged from the buildings around the
south side of the Michigan Street bridge and ran across.  There were some
gunshots heard echoing back, as the Brothers pumped some more lead into the
remnants of the fleeing crowd of released hostages and shocked soldiers.

The battle—a
rout, actually—was already over.  Swarmed by civilians and IEDs exploding all
around them, the National Guard was forced into a ragged retreat in every
direction away from Occupied Chicago.  They threw down packs, weapons, helmets,
even the wounded in their flight.  Anything that would slow them down was
abandoned.  Tahru smiled, watching his people emerge from the buildings and
rush forward over the bridge to loot.  The wounded and dying —soldiers and
civilians—lay everywhere.  The sobbing and screaming started the moment the
explosions ended.  The Brotherhood ignored them all and stripped corpses and
wounded alike of anything valuable.  They were like locusts.

Tahru
blinked.  Before his eyes lay Hell itself.  The bodies and body parts, the
smoke, the fire, the noise.  He smiled.

The
Brotherhood, Tahru could see, quickly pounced on the military hardware left
behind in the Guard’s haste to evacuate.  HumVees, a slightly damaged APC,
ammunition, food, communications gear, a few old Jeeps, and three huge trucks,
including the one loaded with heavy weapons.  Bodies of fallen Guardsmen were
striped clean or thrown in a vehicle to be stripped once safely back across the
river.  Anything that remotely looked military or valuable was snatched and
brought back to their side of the river. 

In minutes,
the first of the captured vehicles roared to life—a fully loaded HumVee—and
made its way towards the Michigan Street bridge heading back into Occupied
Chicago, headlights flashing and horn honking in celebration of the
Brotherhood’s victory.   To the west, the sun was nearing the horizon. 

Soon as
d’em boys take da Pier, we gonna party tonight!
Tahru thought, heading
back down to the street level to get in on the looting of the military gear.  
He wanted a big-ass rifle with a grenade launcher.

Motherfuckin’ Rambo in da ‘hood, y’all!

A
LFONSE FINISHED LIGHTING the
tiki-torches around the pool deck.  There was water everywhere, not yet
evaporated after the late afternoon thunderstorm.  The usual three o’clock
storm had been a little late today and dumped a bit more rain than normal, but
it was a welcome relief as it cooled things off and dropped the humidity a bit.

It had been 48 hours since Erik and Ted
had killed the intruders, but it had taken that long just for things to settle
down a bit.  Some people had gone walking around the complex, nervous about
more intruders.  Others had stayed by the pool, trying to keep cool and forget
what had happened.  A few had a somewhat impromptu vigil at Building 6, where
Ted, Susan, Brin and Erik lived.  Ted and a few others had removed the bodies
of the dead convicts to a spot of unused land a ways down the road from the
complex, where they were buried without ceremony under some trees thick with
Spanish Moss.  Erik had kept himself in isolation in his apartment, thinking
about what had happened.  Brin hadn’t left his side since the attack.

Tonight, about a half dozen families
were already at the pool deck, just round sunset on Day Five, as they had begun
calling it.  Somehow, the fact that it was Monday didn’t matter anymore.  After
all, no one had gone to work since the day the power went out, and since there
was no power coming back anytime soon, who would go to work tomorrow?  Or the
next day?  Or next week?

Due to heavy cloud cover, it was as dark
as full night at Colonial Gardens.  Most of the families that were staying for
the time being had gathered on the pool deck.  A few men and women were
standing around Ted and Erik, who was holding tightly to Brin.  His
katana
was strapped to his waist with a heavy sash, in the same manner the samurai
originally wore the sword.  It rested horizontally against his right hip, the
hilt, or
tsuba
, next to his lower ribs, the tip of the
saya
, or
scabbard, near his knee.  It looked odd to many people, expecting to see the
more ‘Hollywood’ style, strapped over the back.

Erik ignored the questions from those
around him.  His face appeared to have aged ten years in two days.  He had
spent little of those two days sleeping.  Whenever he tried to close his eyes
and sleep, he saw that man in his vision, leering at Brin with lust in his
eyes.  Then in a heartbeat, Erik’s
katana
was slicing through the
convict’s neck; the feeling of the sword slicing through muscle and bone
jarring his mind from sleep time after time.

So Erik had meditated the way Obu-san
had taught him.  He sought guidance for his soul.  He tried hard to focus the
scared part of himself into resolve.  It was hard for him to
not
think
about the man he had killed.  It was a struggle to clear his mind for more than
a few minutes.  To refocus himself, he cleaned and polished his sword in the
bedroom with the door shut for hours at a time, sweating in the confined,
steamy space.  It was a cleansing process for Erik.  Brin, meanwhile, stayed
nearby helping Ted care for Susan, who was in turn worried about Erik.  She had
been around men in Erik’s position as a wife of a Marine, but Ted bid her leave
Erik to figure things out for himself first. 

By the time Erik finally emerged from
the bedroom, his mind was at ease.  He had asked God for guidance, help and
forgiveness, and at last a strange sort of calm had descended on him.  He still
regretted the fact that he had been forced to kill that man, but more and more,
his mind was hardening to the new truth of reality.  Erik realized he had been
forced
to kill that man…he didn’t want to do it, but if that man hadn’t jumped over
the wall and tried to assault Brin…

“So why you
still got that sword?  Ted, aren’t you going to arrest him?” asked Henry
Grimes, looking for all the world like something a dog dragged in from the
gutter.  He hadn’t bothered to even try and shave since the power went out. 
People tended to give him a little more space than everyone else because he
reeked of sweat and alcohol.  A lack of running water had not helped his
hygiene.

A few
murmurs of approval after he spoke set the mood.  Those near Erik seemed to be
in support of what he and Ted had done.  Those on the other side of the pool
deck, near Henry, thought the killing was a bad thing, or at least wrong.

Ted glanced
at Erik quickly, then stepped forward, into the no-man’s-land between the two
groups of residents.  He opened his mouth, then realized he was going to have
his back to some people no matter what.  Changing tactics, he spoke: “Alright,
before we get started, I’d like to make a suggestion.  How ‘bout we let anyone
who is going to speak step up on the hot tub deck there,” he said, jerking a
thumb over his shoulder.  The hot tub was set in its own concrete deck adjacent
to and three feet above the pool.  A perfect little stage. 

“If we talk
down here, some people aren’t going to hear.  How about it?”  Heads nodded,
people whispered to each other, but no one really objected.  Taking that in
stride, Ted mounted the five concrete steps and stood on the “stage” holding
the rail with both hands. 
I don’t know if this is any better….feels like
I’m giving a speech now.  God, I
hate
public speaking!

“So why
haven’t you arrested him?” someone called out.

“Look, I’m
not arresting him because he did
nothing
wrong—“

“He killed
a man!” shouted Henry, a little too loudly.  The affects of his liquid dinner
were still with him, it seemed.

Ted’s face
darkened.  “That
man
—and I use the word loosely—committed a crime and
went to jail, where he broke out, helping to kill some of my fellow deputies,
then assaulted my wife and was about to assault Erik’s wife.  The jail break
and killing of a police officer were enough right there to justify Erik’s
actions, as far as I’m concerned.  Let alone the physical assault—”

“Well, you
ain’t a court!” someone retorted.

“I got news
for you, there aren’t any more courts,” replied Ted.  “When all this…” he swung
his arm out to encompass the darkened community.  “Went down, things started to
fall apart.  Hell, look at the rioting in St. Pete and Tampa.  Can you believe
it? 
Rioting
?  What the
hell
they got to riot about?  Have they
ever lived in Iraq or China?  Do they know what it means to literally have
nothing
? 
Hell no!  For all its problems, this country is still better than the
alternative.  That means something
else
is going on…something bad, and I
don’t like it.”

Ted paused
to let his words sink in.  “I believe that this county is on its own now. 
There are no more cops—we’ve all gone home to protect our
own
families. 
There’s no word on when it’s going to get better—think about
that
one
for a second.”  He paused again and collected his thoughts.

“Look…When
the power goes out, normally the power companies fall all over themselves to
tell the press and the public how quickly they’re going to get power back up
and how many people are affected.  Well, we all know by now that
everyone
in
the country is affected.  So what have they told us?  First they said it’d be a
week or more, then two weeks—then they were cut off by the Government.  Now we
get these little speeches every night from the President saying that well, they
just don’t know how long it’ll take.”  Ted shook his head in frustration. 
There just wasn’t anything he could think of to say that would convince people
the system they relied on wasn’t merely broken, it was destroyed. 

“Still, it
ain’t right,” was the sullen rebuttle from somewhere in the back.

“Why?” 
Erik’s quiet voice cut through the discussion like a knife.  Everyone stopped
to listen to him, speaking now for the first time in days.  His voice was quiet
yet strong, forcing the others to stop talking and listen.  Erik stood there,
staring at the group opposing him and waited, his face calm.

“Why
what
?”
another voice called out.

“Why was
what I did the other morning…why was that wrong?  Who can tell me why I was
wrong
?”

“Well,
because you killed a man, that’s why.  We don’t like the idea of living with a
murderer,” replied Henry Grimes, testily.  Some others nodded.

The people
around Erik paused at that and looked at each other.  They hadn’t thought of it
that way.  Erik ignored their doubts and took a step out of their area into the
undeclared no-man’s-land.  He stood there, right hand resting on the pommel of
his
katana
, letting the opposition get a good long look at him.  When he
looked at their eyes, they looked away, embarrassed.

There was a
sudden commotion behind Erik as someone forced their way through the group and
emerged to stand next to Erik.  It was Stan, looking for all the world like he
hadn’t slept in days.

“It was
my
fault!  You can’t blame Erik and Ted!” he cried out.

“How’s
that?  You didn’t kill anyone like Lancelot here…” pointed out Henry to a few
chuckles.

Stan looked
nervously around.  Everyone was watching the drama play out.  “Because…” he
took a breath, then spewed out his confession rapidly, “Because I went to my
restaurant to steal food for my family from the storage room, and those
two…thugs…must have seen me and followed me back here.  They were trying to get
to me and get my food…and my…” he swallowed, forcing the image of what the two
men would have done to him and his wife and daughter from his mind. 

“They
wouldn’t have found this place if I hadn’t led them right to it…Erik and Ted
saved me and my family.”  He turned to Erik and hung his head.  “I’m so sorry I
brought this on you, Erik…my family was out of food and I didn’t know what to
do, but I was so…I didn’t want to tell anyone else about the food the restaurant
had…”

That
revelation got a few angry curses from both groups on the pool deck.  More than
one family had run out of food already and was living on scraps and handouts
from generous neighbors.

“Thank
you…for the lives of my wife and my daughter, I thank you…God, I can’t thank
you enough!” Stan burst into tears and wrapped Erik in a bear hug, sobbing.

Erik looked
at Ted, who shrugged.  He gently pulled away then addressed Stan quietly. 
“Stan, it’s
okay
.  There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“But he just
admitted he brought those two men here!” someone said.

“He knew
where food was and didn’t tell anyone else!”

“Yeah!  My
kid’s going hungry and—“

“—damn
thief—“

“—I bet
he’s keeping more food from us!”

More
rumbles and murmurs.  Both sides were angry now, angry at Stan for what he had
and had
not
done.

“SHUT UP!” 
Erik suddenly roared, scaring most people into silence.  His voiced echoed off
the apartment buildings across the pond.  He glared at both sides on the pool
deck equally. 

“
Listen
to yourselves!  One second you’re calling me a
murderer
, the next you’re
condemning a man for trying to keep his family
alive
!  What’s
wrong
with you people?”  Erik’s face dared anyone, from both sides, to make something
of it.  Finally someone had the courage to speak up.

“Well, I
think you’re
both
wrong!  He brought those men here because of his greed—you
killed one because…”  The woman lost her train of thought.

“Because
the sonofabitch was about to attack my wife!”  Erik roared back, the ferocity
of his voice like a slap to the face.

“And he
did
attack my wife,” said Ted, moving to stand next to Erik and Stan.  His 9mm was
conspicuously strapped to his thigh in a drop holster now.

“If it were
you
, your husband would have done the same damn thing.”  Erik saw the
shamed look on the woman’s husband and realized sadly he
wouldn’t
have
done as Erik and Ted had.  The pitiful look on the woman’s face when she turned
back to Erik let him know that she perhaps had realized the true nature of her
husband for the first time.  Those around her could tell as well.  Someone
cleared their throat to speak, then thought better of it.

There was
an uneasy silence as Erik’s gaze bore down on the people opposing him.  No one
could think of something to say.  Finally, in a squeaky timid voice, a woman in
the back said, “But violence never solves anything.”

Ted spoke
in a booming voice.  “Say that to the fucker that tried to rape my wife.”  He
smiled at Erik. 

“Thank you,
Erik…” said Susan, rushing forward to hug Erik like Stan had.  She was openly
weeping and her forehead still sported an ugly bruise a reminder of that
morning’s assault.  Brin followed her and stood beside Erik with pride.

Several
people in the opposition folded arms and simply refused to argue, their minds
mind up.  Erik could see in their faces they just didn’t care about the facts
and circumstances, violence and killing was wrong to them, period.  Erik
shrugged.  They’d find out sooner or later that the world didn’t give a rat’s
ass what they thought.