Tumultus (44 page)

Yakov waved a dismissive hand at the rancher.

“Hah!  This is Russian vodka!  Irish cannot keep up - pretenders.”

Cooper Wyse lifted the bottle back and proceeded to drink nearly twice the amount either Yakov or Mac had.

“Not exactly a pint of dark, but it’ll do in a pinch.”

The bottle was then handed to Bear, who took a small sip, his face wrinkling in disgust.

“Never liked that shit.”

The Russian appeared horrified at Bear’s remark.

“You don’t like vodka?”

Bear confirmed the fact for a second time.

“NO – I don’t like vodka.”

Reese was the next to drink.  He did so without complaint, though appeared only slightly more impressed with the vodka than Bear was.  Dublin though, grabbed the bottle from Reese in her right hand while moving her hair aside with her left hand and tilted both her head and the bottle as far back as was comfortable while a considerable amount of the clear liquid disappeared down her throat.

The men sat momentarily stunned at Dublin’s display of drinking prowess.  Dublin in turn smiled and then laughed, pumping a fist in victory.

“New York for the win baby!”

For the next hour, they each sat laughing and sharing stories in the passenger car, its interior lit by two oil lanterns that hung from the ceiling. The contents of the bottle grew less and less as the bond between each of them grew steadily stronger.  During a brief pause in the conversation, Reese grew serious again, posing a question he had long pondered since leaving Dominatus after the drone attacks.

“What do you think was the single biggest reason for America’s downfall?  Why were so many willing to give up so much for so little?”

The Russian grunted.

“United States was once big shot.  It grow fat and lazy.  People stopped working.  Wanted something for nothing.  Your politicians fed them promises of things for nothing.  My grandfather tell me how it was in Soviet Union.  Same thing.  Promises of things for nothing.  What they really get is nothing for everything.  All freedom gone.  Opportunity gone.  Government controls it all.”

Mac closed his eyes.  He was struggling to stay awake, but he also wanted to answer Reese’s question.  He had recalled a similar conversation with him back in Dominatus.

“You know, Yakov’s right.  We did get lazy.  Nobody wanted to bother paying attention to what was really going on.  The political class knew that.  Knew how to use our own ignorance and laziness against us.  They played on our greed and our insecurities.  Got the country so divided up against itself.  Political correctness probably destroyed more lives than anything else back then.  Political correctness made people stop having real conversations.  Made schools into little government approved factories for an agenda that was all about controlling you from the day you were born until the day you died and making you believe that was the way it was supposed to be.  More and more people just started accepting being told what to do.  Accepted the drones flying over their homes, watching them 24/7.  Accepted having someone monitor what they drank and what they ate, and what they said, and what they might be thinking.”

Mac’s voice began to trail off as sleep took hold, his words coming more slowly.

“Tell you this, if we really do get a chance to start over, to hit some kind of re-set button, I sure hope those people appreciate that kind of opportunity.  We sure didn’t.  Not before it was too late.  Too…damn…late.”

XLII.

Mac awoke before the others, his head aching slightly from the drinking done the night before.  Daylight had just started to break outside.  As he sat up, the headache worsened slightly, causing him to smile.  It felt good to be hung over.  In an odd way, it was a reminder of just how alive he still was.

Reese and Dublin slept in their seats next to each other, while Bear lay across the floor of the passenger car, snoring loudly.  Cooper was lying back in a seat two rows away from Mac, while the Russian, like Bear, was on his back at the far end of the passenger car seemingly in competition with the volume of Bear’s snoring.

Brando raised his head to look back at Mac, the dog’s intelligent eyes signaling his approval of seeing Mac wake up for another day.

While making his way quietly to the back exit door Mac was barely able to muffle a gasp from the deep pain that coursed down his spine.  His legs buckled as Mac leaned against the wall of the passenger car.  He focused on taking deep, measured breaths until the pain passed.  It took nearly a minute before the pain subsided enough that he could continue making his way outside.

The air greeted Mac like a cold slap across his face, causing his skin to tingle.  He found the experience invigorating, helping him to wake more fully and take his mind off the still throbbing pain in his lower back.  Stepping down onto the ground, he inhaled deeply, taking in the scents of the arctic like air.  The tall trees that lined either side of the train tracks loomed over Mac, silently looking down at him from above.

Mac heard the door of the passenger car open behind him and saw the Russian jumping down from the platform to join him.

“Ah!  Good morning!  Feeling better?”

Mac considered the question and decided that yes, he was feeling better.

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am.  I didn’t wake up coughing my lungs out, so that was a pleasant change from the last few weeks.”

The Russian smiled and nodded his head.  His beard and hair appeared to have taken on a life of its own overnight, appearing even more unkempt than before.

“See!  Vodka!”

Mac shrugged.

“Maybe.”

Yakov began walking to the front of the train, his voice trailing behind him.

“No maybe.  Just yes.  Vodka!”

Mac stretched his arms above his head, and then leaned over to touch his feet.  He really was feeling better, the pain in his back not withstanding.  Sunlight was now breaking through the trees, casting a beautiful glow over the Russian’s beloved train.

Going back into the passenger car, he found Cooper Wyse up as well.  The rancher was whispering to Brando, asking the Doberman if he wanted to go outside.

“Well hello there, Mac.  Nice to see you looking better.”

Mac wondered if the compliment actually reflected how he looked.

“Am I really looking better, Coop?”

The rancher stood up and looked back at Mac.

“Yeah – I’d say so.  Quite a bit better, actually.  Guess that Russian vodka agrees with you.”

Mac rubbed his temples.

“Tell that to my head.”

Within the next hour, Bear, Reese, and Dublin also awoke.  Dublin in particular appeared to be hurting the most from the impacts of the evening’s choice of drink.

“Ok, guys…remind me not to do that again for a while.”

Bear chuckled at Dublin’s discomfort, and then proceeded to do an impression of Yakov for the others.

“Vodka good!  You drink it good!  Make you feel all better!”

Dublin began to laugh at how accurate Bear’s voice took on the Russian’s accent and tone, but then stopped abruptly as she looked behind Bear to see Yakov staring back at her.

Bear continued with his impression, unaware the Russian stood just behind him.

“Drink vodka!  Don’t be pussy!  Vodka!  Vodka!  Vodka!”

Getting no response from Dublin or the others, Bear looked back at them in frustration.

“What?  I thought that was pretty good.  Sounds just like him.”

Yakov cleared his throat.

Bear froze, his eyes rolling from side to side in a vain attempt to somehow see in the back of his head.

The Russian began to clap slowly.

“Very good, yeah?  You sound like me?  Ok then.  Now get your ass back to front of train and fill the firebox with coal.  We have many hours to travel.”

Bear turned himself slowly around, his hands held up in front of him.

“Didn’t mean anything by it, Yakov.  Just having a little fun.”

Yakov nodded back at Bear.

“Of course – of course!  Just a little fun! No hard feelings.  We shake on it.  All good then.”

Bear appeared relieved, extending his right hand out toward the Russian, who proceeded to grasp it firmly in his own.  Yakov smiled back at Bear as he began squeezing the taller man’s hand as Bear attempted to continue appearing as if the increasing pressure was not causing him any discomfort.  The fact was though, he already wanted to cry out in pain, so powerful was the Russian’s grip.

Sensing he had made his point, Yakov released Bear’s hand and began making his way back outside.

“Hurry up.  Fill the firebox so we can begin warming the engine.”

Bear followed close behind the Russian, gently rubbing his right hand as he did so.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Dublin started giggling again, soon joined by the others.  Mac in particular found it difficult to contain his laughter.

“Those two make one hell of an odd couple, but I do believe they were made for one another!”

A voice cut across the interior of the passenger car, originating from Mac’s portable shortwave that he had just turned on shortly after waking.  Walking over to where he had left it, he adjusted the radio’s volume to ensure everyone else could hear. The voice was that of Royce Calhoun, leader of the Texas Resistance – the man who had requested they make their way to Churchill, Manitoba in search of an alleged weapon to be used against the New United Nations.

“This is Mac Walker – please repeat.”

Mac and the others waited silently for a response.  None came.

“This is Mac Walker – repeat your last message.”

Royce Calhoun’s voice again issued from the shortwave.

“Mac, this is Calhoun.  I need you to know…we are running out of time down here.  They got us pinned along the border, bombing the hell out of us inside Texas, and coordinating attacks from the drug cartels in Mexico.  What is your ETA to destination?”

Mac pushed the transmit button on the handheld.

“We are within twenty four hours.  Repeat – twenty four hours.”

There was another pause of nearly a minute in the communication before Royce Calhoun responded.

“Mac, we need that weapon.  I have been assured it is real and it can be effective.  Don’t want to say exactly how over the open signal here in case we’re being monitored.  We need you to get to the assigned location as soon as possible.  Look for the church.

Our status down here is reaching…it ain’t good, Mac.  Maybe a few days left, a week at most.   We lost over a hundred yesterday to another drone attack.  Some days the skies are almost completely filled with these goddamn drones, one bombing attack after another.  Our numbers are down to a few thousand active.  Losing more every day.  I’m swamped with injured men and women, people who haven’t had water in days, or food in over a week.  Received confirmation they are assembling more drones for Alaska too.  Gonna come in strong up there.  Do you understand?”

Mac looked up at Reese, Dublin and Cooper before he answered Royce Calhoun.

“We understand.  Doing our best.  Give us another twenty four.”