WWIV - Basin of Secrets
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Authors: e a lake
WWIV - Basin of Secrets
e a lake
Copyright © 2016 e a lake
Exclusive Kindle Version.
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations are entirely coincidental.
All events portrayed are made up in the authors mind. As such, none are real. However, they are intended to give the reader pause to consider what a alternate future may look like. Further, the author intends to scare the living crap out of you. You’re welcomed.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form whatsoever without written permission of the author.
Also by e a lake:
(The Shorts - Book 1)
For Erika, Megan, and Leah
When He broke the third seal, I heard the third living creature saying, "Come." I looked, and behold, a black horse; and he who sat on it had a pair of scales in his hand.
- Revelations 6:5
And never forget these words,
I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.
-Albert Einstein
Leaning against a brick façade next to the concrete steps, Willem heard his companion sigh. His eyes squeezed tightly shut for a third time.
“What’s bothering you
now
?” he snorted.
Turning his attention to the shorter man on his right, Willem watched as his companion wiped his face with a red handkerchief.
“Pretty darned hot out here in the sun today, boss. That’s all. Just ain’t used to it.”
Willem chuckled as he cupped his hands near his eyes and stared back at the assemblage of people high on the step landing. Shaking his head, he felt sweaty strands of hair tickle his bare neck. “I would think after six years in the desert, you’d be used to the heat. Not like it wasn’t hot out there all the time.”
His companion sighed again, only louder this time. “That was different. We stayed inside during the hottest part of the day always.” Willem heard his friend’s feet shuffle. “Today you got me frying out here like an egg on a skillet.”
Willem ignored him and focused on the faces on the stage.
“What you thinking about, Will?”
“What would you do, Howard, if this was your last day on earth? What if tomorrow never came? Would you do anything differently?” He turned slightly to focus on Howard’s response. Watching his lips twist, Willem noticed a grin form.
“Well for starters, I wouldn’t be hanging out in the early fall heat with your sorry butt. That’s for sure.”
Willem waved a hand at him. “Come Howard, be serious.”
Howard’s head waggled back and forth several times. “I’d probably go see my Ma. Spend as much time with her as I could. Maybe try and find a nice fat cigar and a bottle of booze. Ease into the sunset that way.” Willem noticed Howard’s face tighten. “You?”
Chuckling slightly, he felt a smile coming on. “I don’t believe I’d be wasting my time hanging out on the steps of City Hall, making some stupid harvest time speech. And really, the people Erickson associates with: Maria Jenkins, Walter Brushbrow and Salt Lake’s first families. It seems quite the folly to me.”
“Jenkins and Brushbrow are on the council. Why shouldn’t they be here next to their mayor? And we both know Erickson loves to hear himself speak.”
Nodding, Willem fought back a laugh. He wanted to stay undetected by the group for as long as he possibly could.
Stretching his back, the mayor of the Salt Lake Community slowly rose from his chair. Taking two steps forward, he lifted the old megaphone to his mouth and pulled the trigger, turning it on. “Good morning!” he called out with a cheery tone.
“Good morning, mayor,” a large part of the crowd called back. Marshall Erickson flashed a toothy grin at the assembled mass as they turned and focused on their leader.
He squeezed the “on” button and continued. “I’m extremely happy to see such a large gathering of Salt Lake Community folks. It warms my heart, as it should yours.” A smattering of applause followed, causing him to pause briefly. When it died away, he began again. “Today, I want to tell you several important decisions that the council and I have reached on your behalf. But first, I’d like to update you on several items that are of interest to us all.”
The megaphone screeched, and Marshall held it away from his mouth. When he tried to speak again, the screech repeated. Maria Jenkins rose quickly and played the volume button.
“As always, Maria to the rescue,” Marshall joked. A heartier applause rose, and Maria waved at the crowd. Marshall turned back to the group. “First, our counters estimate that the population of our community is now fairly stable at about 6,000 residents. That’s a number we can easily deal with…a number that represents a workable community, society. Now, many have died. Many more have fled to the east in the mountains that tower over that side of this wonderful place.” Marshall’s face saddened momentarily. “For those of you who have lost loved ones to death, I – no we – are truly sorry. These past 12 years have taken a toll on our stockpile of medicine. We’ve lost a number of doctors and nurses. I know it hasn’t been easy. But finally, thanks mostly to your hard work, we’ve made it through the worst.” Again, applause. The mayor raised his hand to silence the crowd; instantly, the gathering acquiesced.
“These people are simpletons,” Willem whispered. “Look at what they’ve done over the past 12 years – nothing. The grass around this building is almost dead, and yet they keep mowing it, by hand no less. The windows on City Hall are so dirty, as if they haven’t been washed once in all this time.”
His glance moved through the crowd to a street leading east into the snow-capped mountains. “And look at that, Howard,” he said, pointing down the street. “They haven’t harvested the power poles for repurposing. There they stand, skeletons of a time long since gone. They’ve removed all the wires, but the idiots haven’t touched the wood poles. Silly, just plain silly I tell you.”
“And yet they managed to find batteries for the megaphone,” Howard countered. “Maybe they ain’t all that dense after all.”
Willem scoffed at his logic with a grunt, turning again to the stage.
Up front, the mayor continued. “To those who have left…” he paused and scanned the crowd from side to side, letting his eyes focus on nearly a dozen people. “…well, we wish them God’s speed. They had their reasons.” He shook his head showing he still didn’t understand why anyone would want to leave the safety of this community, his community.
“Whether they didn’t want to help on the communal farms, or in the waste plant, or even at the food distribution facility – they all had reason to leave. But that’s what this country is about, still today.” His tempo and voice rose. “We are free people. Free to choose how we live. If you want to live alone, or in a small group in the forests, you are free to do so.” Loud applause greeted his comments. Cheers rose, agreeing with his uplifting words. This time, instead of stopping their interruption, the mayor let it continue.
When the crowd finally settled, he lifted the megaphone again. “And as free people, we too, in this community have choices, many choices. Today, I announce an important choice we have made. A choice that will make us more independent and self-sufficient peoples. A choice we can all be proud of.”
The crowd moved forward like a wave coming to shore, all as one. Marshall Erickson steeled his face, showing the determination his office and message carried.
“I’d like to have Walter Brushbrow join me now, as he was instrumental in helping work out a solution to a large problem that has plagued us for years.” Walter rose and shuffled forward beside the mayor. A small cheer went up from far out in the crowd; Walter acknowledged it with a quick wave. The mayor raised his hand, signaling the group’s attention. “But first, there’s one last thing I want to talk about before Walter begins.” Erickson peered down at his now shaking hands.
“As many of you know, we banished Will Tarlisch’s gang – I think they call themselves “the Red Shirt Raiders” – to the salt flats and away from our beautiful city. In the beginning, there were some 250 of his followers out there. But I’ve learned recently that that number has grown.” Marshall frowned. “Willem Tarlisch now has more than 1,000 people living with him in the desert. And while they’re out there, miles away…” Marshall paused, “…well, there’s rumblings of a revolt on his part. The man’s crazy. That’s as simple as I can put it. He seems to think that his banishment should be over. He believes that he should be allowed to return to the basin, to Provo and Salt Lake.” A murmur ran through the crowd, moving like a gust of wind across a field of wheat. “But that’s not the worst, people,” Marshall Erickson added without emotion. “He wants even more.”
Willem peered through the people in the crowd, their faces covered with the fear that Erickson successfully solicited. “They hate us, Howard,” he murmured, just loud enough for his friend to hear. “And it’s all his fault.”
Next to him, Howard remained stoic, standing still and showing no emotion. At least that was something Willem could count on: Howard’s resolve for the mission at hand, undeterred by the lies of a man about to die.
Noticing a window lift slightly in a building just left of the stage, Willem felt his face twitch. Reaching into his back pocket, he retrieved a red handkerchief similar to his friend’s.
“Showtime, Howard. Get ready for the fun.”
Willem pushed away from the wall and made his way to the corner of the stairway. One by one, he skipped upward. One by one, the faces on the stage turned to face him. When Erickson finally sputtered to a stop and turned to give Willem his full attention, the megaphone dropped from his hand.
“Hello, Marshall!” Willem called. “Did you miss me?”
The sniper’s scope jumped as the gun released its assigned death to Walter Brushbrow. In the following five seconds, death came to nearly everyone on stage.
Marshall flinched after hearing the first shot. His words broke and hung in the air as he scoured the scene for the source of the sound. Quickly, almost following each beat of his heart, five more shots followed. Turning, he gasped at the carnage behind. All of his friends and council members lay dead, bullet shots to the head. Blood and skull and brains were strewn across the stage, strewn about like leaves in the wind.
His attention quickly returned to the surrounding buildings encasing the cowering crowd. In the last second of his life, he heard footsteps – the sound of boots – coming from behind. As suddenly as all of the chaos began, Marshall Erickson’s life ended with one last gunshot echoing through the terrified crowd.