Dark New World (Book 3): EMP Deadfall (11 page)

“Defending ourselves needs doing, too,” Michael replied, clearly irritated. “But alright, Frank. It’s not what I hoped to hear, but I understand. Thanks for letting me draw on the stockpiles for this. It’ll pay us back with better security for the whole farm.” He turned and nodded to Cassy, then added to Frank, “I’ll see you later. I need to go check in with the guard.”

He left Cassy and Frank alone. Cassy didn’t really like Michael going to Frank with such issues, dammit, because Frank didn’t always have the latest information. She should have been brought into it automatically. They should have either come to her right away or put it on the agenda for the weekly Clan meeting. It was a little frustrating, but she couldn’t manage everything, and Frank was, after all, supporting her. It was nothing to get angry about, so she shook herself mentally and put on a smile.

“Morning, Frank. How are the work projects coming? Have we found jobs for the newcomers?” There were a dozen new faces already this week, some brought in by Cassy and a few who heard about the farm and left their homes to join the Clan for the safety in numbers it could offer.

“Yeah, they’re being productive. We have a couple chopping wood, like you asked, and the rest are either helping to harvest or working on the second house, depending on their skills and age and so on.”

Cassy nodded. “How about the Jepsons—how’re they doing? I was a bit hesitant to bring them in, but I couldn’t just leave them out there to die.”

Frank chuckled. “I get that. Well, Monique is using her skills at yakking and yapping to motivate the workers. She was a politician, after all. She’s also written down a bunch of suggestions to streamline how we do things, which I figured I’d bring up in our next weekly meeting. Some look pretty good. She’ll be an asset.”

Cassy nodded again, a little surprised at Mrs. Jepson’s pitching in like that. Frank continued, “Dean is another story. He’s a damn hard worker, but impatient with the others when they don’t understand his point or what he’s driving at. I think he’s probably a genius, though—his ideas for getting the house built faster all will work as he says. And he knows how to get more done in fewer steps. He got everyone to set one earthbag each time they come in from the fields. If they each put down one bag every time they come in for breakfast, lunch, supper, and the end of the day, that’s around eighty extra bags a day, all without diverting any people or taking much time. I figure we’re more likely to get sixty bags, because people will forget, or be in a rush, or whatever. Still.”

“Wow, that’s pretty smart,” Cassy said. “So tell me, how are the two of them integrating with the rest? They didn’t exactly want to be here, and they don’t much like me being in charge. No surprise, all things considered.” She smiled at him. “By the way, I don’t think I’ve told you how grateful I am for all the support you’ve given me.”

Frank nodded in acknowledgement of the thanks. “I know you have some rough history with them. But they’re integrating fine, other than always coming to me. I finally told them both that you’re the leader here, it’s your farm and they need to accept that or find another Clan to live with. Dean seems fine with it, but he’s the more practical of the two. Monique tried to talk her way around it, but I just kept repeating that it’s your farm and your rules. Don’t get me wrong; I like the two of them. I think they’ll do alright here once they adjust. Like I said, they’re already contributing even if they don’t totally get how you’ve set this place up.”

“Yeah, traditional methods are hard to avoid out here,” Cassy answered. She spent a few more minutes talking to Frank about nothing much. He was easy on the eyes and had a great sense of humor. What wasn’t to like about him? It kind of sucked that he was married, but those were the breaks. After a while, she continued on her rounds, checking the other work parties, patting backs, making suggestions. She never did like managing, but she guessed she could do it okay.

* * *

1200 HOURS - ZERO DAY +23

After everyone else had been served, Cassy filled her own plate with lunch. Today it was rice and kimchi with a little bit of meat from the night before, and hardboiled eggs, all of it served with fresh milk. It smelled good, and normally she would have demolished the plate in record time—everyone in the Clan seemed hungry all the time, with the current dawn-to-dusk workload—but today she didn’t see Michael at lunch, and her uncertainty about the reason lessened her appetite. The three new Marines were also missing, and her anxiety rose.

Whatever those Marines were up to, it was probably important enough, and they could get lunch whenever they came in, so she wasn’t panicking. She’d gained some confidence in them over the past several days, but she still didn’t exactly like their unexplained absence. Michael was good at his job, she reminded herself, and he could handle just about any problem he came up against with the help of the Marines. Whatever kept him from lunch had to be pretty important. He never missed a meal if he had a choice, Cassy thought with a wry smile. A habit he learned the hard way, out in the field, she supposed. She had just eaten her last morsel of food, when the Marine Lance Corporal, Sturm, approached Cassy’s table and sat down.
 

“There you are,” Cassy said, putting on a friendly smile. “You don’t normally miss lunch. Seen Michael? He missed lunch, too.”

Sturm looked at her, face inscrutable, and said, “Listen, Michael and I found a pair of people on horses, scouting our position with binoculars. We caught one, and Michael needs to talk to you about it. He said to tell only you right away, so you could let the Clan know what you feel they need to know after the two of you talk. If you’re done with lunch, he’s waiting. He said to make sure you come back with me.”

Cassy felt a tingle of anxiety and realized she was fidgeting with her silverware. She forced herself to stop and put her hands in her lap. “Red Locusts?”

“No, something new. Don’t know. Michael can tell you more.” She started to rise. “Shall we go?”

Cassy stood, decided to ignore Sturm’s peremptory manner, and put her dishes in the first of three 55-gallon drums—it was full of hot, soapy water. The cleaning team would scrub each dish in one drum after another, getting the dishes progressively cleaner as they traveled down the line. Dishes cleared, Cassy followed Sturm. Weird that she didn’t know Sturm’s first name, but Michael had said they went entirely by last name in the military, though for some reason Michael was insistent that everyone call him by his first name—something to do with not confusing the Clan. Apparently, the young woman was more comfortable going by her last name. “Okay, Sturm. Let’s get this over with.”

Sturm led Cassy through the maze of raised garden beds, passing the now-empty fields of spring wheat starting to overgrow with clover, flowers, and nettles. They continued into the food forest that marked the edge of her original property. They had gone deep into the woods when they finally came to Michael and the other Marine, Mueller.

Near them was another man, stripped naked and tied hands-and-feet to a couple of trees, which forced him to stand spread-eagled. The man was unconscious, though still breathing, and covered in cuts and bruises.

“What the fuck is going on here, Michael,” Cassy demanded. She heard her own voice crack, and even to her own ears she sounded almost hysterical. What the hell had Michael done? The man could be just an innocent passerby, for chrissake. And Michael had clearly
tortured
the guy. She felt a deep revulsion as she looked back to Michael. Michael, her friend. Her companion. Her
defender
. And now, apparently Michael the Torturer.

“Please, Cassy, keep it together until I’ve told you what I’ve learned. This could be vital to our survival. You can judge me later, but for right now I can only say that these measures were both reasonable and necessary, from a military P-O-V. Point of view. We needed intel fast, and I obtained it. It’s not the most reliable method of getting information, because people will say anything to make the pain stop, but it is the fastest.”

The words “vital to our survival” struck Cassy like a hammer. She winced as he said the rest. Time to calm down. Freaking out could come later, but for now it was time to be the leader the Clan had chosen her to be. Lord be merciful, she wished Frank was still in charge.

“Okay, Michael. I’m calm. See? Deep breaths, voice level. Forgive me if I beat the shit out of you when this is over though.
We
are not the
bad guys
, Michael. So, what did you learn from torturing a fellow human being?”

“Well, found out that he’s a scout from a little farming community called ‘White Stag Farms.’ ”

Cassy paled at the mention. That was where she’d been hunted before she found the Clan, and the memory haunted her. Faintly, her right shoulder suddenly ached, reminding her of the wound she’d received while fleeing those gun-happy bastards.

Michael nodded once. “I see it rings a bell. Good. Their community got hit by the invaders right after you encountered them, and they blame you personally. He didn’t know your name, but described you. They just call you ‘the spy.’ Well, it gets better.”

No flipping way. This couldn’t happen, could it? Did those bastards really track her all the way here? A chill ran up her spine. “Go on.”

“They’re led now by the guy who hunted you. And, since he thinks you brought the invaders to them to divert attention from your own farm—obviously faulty logic, given the distance—he’s determined to take what you have to make up for what they lost. He’s got at least twice as many people under arms as we do, and they’re on their way here
now
. Not to raid—they brought everything they could carry. They’re migrating
here
. To
stay.
”

“Oh my God… How long do we have? Can we bargain with them or something?” The terror was rising once again, and it came out in her shaking voice. Still, she looked Michael in the eyes. Scared or not, this wasn’t the time to panic. It was time to be a leader.

“They’ll be here in a couple days at most. And Cassy? Their leader’s name is Peter, and he’s built himself a little cult. They think of him as being like Moses, leading them out of bondage and into freedom to a land of milk and honey that they’ll have to fight for. Peter would rather die than bargain. He’s coming, and we can’t prevent that. We can only fight and hope to survive, or flee and hope not to starve out there.”

Cassy was silent for what seemed a long time. She closed her eyes and fought to rein in her racing thoughts. Focus, dammit. “Okay. I’ll call an emergency Clan meeting. Some may leave, and then the rest of us will have to decide whether to stay and fight, or follow the others away from here. But I get the feeling this Peter guy won’t ever stop following us. This is personal for him. What should we do with the scout?”

Michael’s jaw stood out as he clenched and unclenched it. “Peter may be fanatical, but I doubt every one of his followers is so committed. My advice is to string this guy up on the path Peter’s taking, and brutalize the corpse. PsyOps may deter some of his followers. It’s unpleasant, and I’ve never done it before—not even to the Taliban assholes we killed in the Sandbox—but I recommend we hang him high, peel the skin on his face back like a damn banana, and shove his own junk down his throat. It will unsettle his followers, trust me. The Afghans did that to a British soldier we found too late. It sure as shit unsettled me, and I’ve seen a lot of fucked up things, Cassy.” He looked grim. “Now I’m having to do some. It ain’t easy.”

Cassy felt the blood rush away from her head, and her cheeks tingled. Everything seemed to spin for a moment. The next thing she knew, she was in Michael’s arms, looking up at him. “What the hell happened?”

“You fainted. I’m sorry, Cassy. I know it’s unpleasant.”

“That’s not the fuckin’ word for it. What kind of animal are you, Michael? Who would
do such a thing?
We’re not the monsters!”

Michael didn’t seem upset by her words—he had that eerie Marine thing going of looking utterly composed under stress. “Cassy, I know you’re freaking out. But you and I can take care of this, somewhere away from the Clan. They don’t have to see it—just Peter and his goons.”

“Do you really think we should do that? No. No, I can’t. Michael, it’s not in me, even if it was necessary, which I’m not even sure of. But I can’t think straight… I need time to figure this out.”

“Dammit, Cassy, we don’t have time. We need to spend every freakin’ minute between now and then getting ready for this shitstorm. You get me? A world of hurt is coming downrange, straight at us. For all of us, Cassy, including Aidan and Brianna. Think of your kids, Cassy, and let’s go do what’s needful.”

Cassy felt her stomach rolling, churning, threatening to unload everything she’d just eaten. “Michael, I can’t do it. I’m sorry. Can’t you just… I don’t know, can’t you just take care of it? Do whatever you want, but I can’t be a part of that. I just can’t!”

Michael again wore his stone mask, his battle face. “Cassy, you’re the leader of the Clan. You gotta start making these hard decisions. I can only advise you.”

“I never asked to be the damn leader, Michael,” she spat. “I hate this. I only led because
someone
had to, and I’m the only one who knew how to handle this farm. I didn’t sign on for torturing people and skinning their goddamn faces.”

Michael’s features softened, and he put his hand on her shoulder. “I know this is hard, and you’re right. You’re a civilian, and a good person, a good mom. You’re a better leader than you give yourself credit for, Cassy, but this is war. You chose me to lead our defenders and see to our safety, and that’s what I’m going to do. You can go back to the farm and get that meeting going, okay? Mueller and I will take care of what needs doing. It’s a Marine’s job to do terrible things so bad people don’t do even more terrible things to the people we protect and love. And don’t worry about the rest of the Clan finding out. Mueller and I will keep quiet about it, and we’ll do this out of sight so no one else has to suffer nightmares, the way I do. But this is war. You only have to tell me I’m in charge of our tactics.”