The Reckoning - 02 (39 page)

             
“Are you in charge here?” he asked, warily.

             
“I’m the Sheriff,” I said, pointing at the badge. “I guess that kind of puts me in command.”

             
“Are we prisoners?” he demanded.

             
“Not at all,” I said, grinning. “We pulled you out of the wreckage of your plane and brought you here.”

             
“How do I know you weren’t the ones who shot us down?” he demanded.

             
“Well, I suppose you don’t,” I replied, “but if we’d wanted you dead, you would be.”

             
I let that sink in for a few moments.

             
“Besides that,” I said. “Medical supplies are pretty low. If you were a prisoner, I wouldn’t be wasting them on you.”

             
That one made him look up and meet my gaze.

             
“Look, First Sergeant,” I said, formally. “I’m doing my best to save lives, not take them. We aren’t your enemy.”

             
“I damned sure hope not,” he said, sinking back onto the pillow, “because we’re damned sure not in any shape to do anything about it.”

             
“I just wanted to ask you a few questions,” I said. “That is, if you’re up to it.”

             
“I’m fine,” he said, stubbornly. “I keep telling your doctor that, but she won’t listen.”

             
“Yeah, Maddie’s a tough customer,” I agreed. “It’s best to listen to her.”

             
“What do you want to know,” he said, defensively.

             
“I’m not asking you to give away state secrets or anything,” I said, smiling. “You won’t be interrogated or anything like that.”

             
“That’s good,” he said, locking his gaze on mine. “I’ve been tortured by the best and didn’t break.”

             
“No one’s going to torture you, Top,” I assured him. “I just want to know how the rest of the world is holding up. Is
anywhere
safe?”

             
He seemed to age ten years right before my eyes. His eyes looked deeply saddened by the thoughts that were running through his head. He took his time before he answered.

             
“It’s not good anywhere,” he said after a moment. “Pretty much every major city looks like yours. Or worse.”

             
“How could it be worse?” I asked, dreading the answer.

             
“The government tried nukes on the west coast. Los Angeles and San Francisco are gone. The damned problem is the dead shook it off. Well, the ones outside the immediate blast zone. The radiation had no effect on them.”

             
“That’s not good news,” I replied. “Is there anywhere that we held out?”

             
“We managed to hold on to the island of Manhattan,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve heard that they swept it and took out anyone they even thought might be a carrier. It’s an island under siege, though. They have to patrol the waterfront constantly, just in case a floater washes up.”

             
“I can imagine,” I said, softly.

             
“No, you can’t,” he said. “It’s a fucking nightmare for the survivors there. They’re going to starve to death unless we can establish good supply lines.”

             
“What about the Navy?” I said.

             
“We lost contact with the ships at sea when most of the communications uplinks were compromised. We’re trying to recall all of them, but passing the word isn’t easy.”

             
“Did you try the old Ham radios?”

             
“I’m sure they have,” he replied. “The commo guys are at it round the clock.”

             
“Where else do we have control?”

             
“Hawaii and Guam,” he said. “Plus several other island bases. We’ve also managed to hold most of the Aleutian Islands off of Alaska.”

             
“Well, at least we’ve got something,” I said, shaking my head.

             
“Mostly we’re just scattered small communities,” he said, somberly. “The big brains are estimating we lost at least 98% of the population.”

             
“Is that in the U.S.?” I asked, dreading the answer.

             
“No,” he said, softly. “That’s planet-wide.”

             
I didn’t have an answer for that, but I’m sure that the look of horror on my face said it all. I knew that had to mean we were within a hair’s breadth of going out completely. Ragnarok was the right word for it. It was the twilight of man. We were on the ropes and unless something changed in a hell of a hurry, we might be going down for the count.

             
“So what happens next?” I asked, after a moment to regain some composure.

             
“We do our damndest to survive,” he replied, a little more iron in his voice. “I won’t go down without a fight.”

             
“I think you won’t find anyone here who would disagree with you,” I said, gesturing around me.

             
“Glad to hear it,” he said. “Alright, Sheriff, you’ve convinced me. I don’t think you’re the bad guy. So what happens next?”

             
“Well, first thing,” I said, “we get you and your men back on your feet. We could use your skills and training to help us survive.”

             
“I still have a mission to carry out,” he said, meeting my gaze.

             
“What’s your mission?”

             
“Our orders were to clear an area of downtown Springfield, then drop into it,” he said, shaking his head. “We didn’t expect to make it back.”

             
“Then why drop in?” I asked, incredulously.

             
“We were under orders to locate the base of the group that shot down our fighter and now our C-130 so that we could call in an airstrike on it.”

             
“What makes them so important?”

             
“Well, besides the fact that they took out one of our jets,” he said, “they’ve been hitting our supply choppers that have been carrying gear and munitions to our FOB
[16]
in Louisiana. The flight path took several of them over this area. We’ve been clearing gear out of Whiteman Air Force Base and Fort Leonard Wood.”

             
“Why not fly around the area?” I asked.

             
“We have to fly the shortest route possible,” he replied. “We don’t have enough fuel reserves left to sustain flight operations.”

             
“How much gear are we talking about?”

             
“Well, if it came down intact,” he said, thinking, “enough to supply a small army. They’ve even got Stingers, mortars and heavy ordinance.”

             
“That’s not good news,” I said. “With firepower like that, they could crush us without much effort.”

             
“Well, Sheriff,” he said, “it looks like you have a vested interest in seeing us finish our mission.”

             
“Call me Wylie,” I said, extending my hand. “Wylie Grant.”

             
“First Sergeant James C. Gregory, 5th Ranger Bat
[17]
,” he said, shaking it with a grip like a vice. “You can call me Jim.”

             
“Good to know you, Jim,” I said, returning his grip.

             
“With most of my men dead,” he said, “I could use your help to finish my mission.”

             
“What was the plan if you had succeeded?” I asked.

             
“If the area was clear, they were going to send a chopper in to extract us,” he said.

             
“And if it wasn’t?” I asked, fairly certain I already knew the answer.

             
“We were on our own,” he replied. “We were to try to get away and make for a little town called Lebanon. We have a POMCUS
[18]
cache just outside town. We were going to resupply there and push for either Whiteman AFB or Ft. Leonard Wood. From there, we’d catch the next supply chopper.”

             
“There’s a POMCUS cache that close to us?” I said. “I had no idea it was there.”

             
“That’s kind of the point,” he replied. “It’s pretty well hidden. If it wasn’t, someone would have raided it long before now. Actually, I’m surprised you even know what a POMCUS cache is.”

             
“My clearance ranking was pretty high,” I said. “And I had some good friends who were Intel weenies.”

             
“That explains it,” he replied. “I learned about them when I was still a buck sergeant in Germany. We were tasked with updating the inventory along the autobahn line.”

             
“What’s the plan, now?” I asked. “You won’t make it far with just the three of you.”

             
“I’ve already thought of that,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

             
“You’re welcome to stay with us,” I said. “We don’t have much, but you’re welcome.”

             
“I appreciate that, Sheriff…uh…Wylie,” he said. “We might just take you up on that. By now, they’ve already written us off as dead.”

             
“They’ll know you’re alive when you call for an airstrike on the
Freemen
,” I said.

             
“Is that who we’re up against?” he asked, shaking his head. “I’ve heard of those lunatics.”

             
“Yeah,” I said. “We’ve already had a few run-ins with them. They’ve killed several of my people.”

             
“Sounds like you might want a little payback,” he said, smiling.

             
“If you’re planning on hitting them,” I said, “then I’m in. We need to do something before they come after us. If they have all the munitions you say they do, then we won’t stand a chance if they hit us here.”

             
“We’ll need to scout the area and locate their base,” he said.

             
“I’ll get my people together and we can see if anyone knows where they might be,” I said. “I know our patrol guys have encountered them a few times before this all started.”

             
“If you can convince your doctor to let me go,” he said, “I’d like to be there.”

             
I turned and glanced back at Maddie. She was giving me a scowl over the tops of her glasses. I gave her a shrug and my best sheepish grin. It must have worked.

             
“I’ll let him up if he doesn’t overdo it,” she said, her tone serious. “He’s in no shape to be getting involved in your usual shenanigans.”

             
“Got it,” I said, miming crossing my heart. “No shenanigans.”

             
“I mean it, Wylie,” she said, frowning at me. “I mean nothing strenuous. As for you, First Sergeant, I expect you to take it easy. You’re not ready for active duty.”

             
“Understood, ma’am,” he said, slowly sitting up.

             
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” I promised.

             
He sat on the edge of the cot and slipped on his combat boots. Then I helped him to his feet and he stood shakily for a moment before finding his balance. He was wearing his ACU pants and a t-shirt. His ACU top was folded and on the table next to his cot. Retrieving it, he slipped it on and began buttoning it up.

             
As we walked out of the makeshift hospital, he reached into his cargo pocket and took out his tan beret. When he placed it on his head, I noticed his posture become a little straighter. I knew he had to be in pain, but he didn’t show it. Then I remembered the motto of the Rangers. Rangers lead the way. He was a Ranger and not even pain was going to stop him from doing his job. I had to admire that about him.

             
“You’re ex-military,” he said, after a moment. “Army?”

             
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s been a while, though. How’d you know?”

             
“Your bearing, mostly,” he replied. “But you also called me Top. Most civilians wouldn’t know that term.”

             
“Seems like a lifetime ago, now,” I said. “I did six years, back in the late 80’s to early 90’s.”