“Old tradition of militia. Remember a favorite movie of ours, Drums Along the Mohawk. We had to defend ourselves or go under.”
“John, there are a lot of places like yours, actually. Not around the cities—they all became death traps. The enclaves of those who had tried to prepare beforehand, some survived a year or more, and then the barbarians just finally overran them. You most likely know that every major city of a quarter million or more east of the Mississippi is gone—a twisted, burned-out, perverted wasteland. They just were not sustainable without modern technology. That and all social order broke down within a matter of days.
“But once you got farther out, some of the smaller cities like Asheville somehow hung on. Those in the south had a better chance during the first winter, but even in the north, remote rural areas banded together. A fair part of West Virginia rallied around an eccentric old congressman a hundred miles west of here in Tennessee; there’s an area nearly as big as what your community claims to be the State of Carolina. They’re reviving the old name of the State of Franklin. More than a few, especially in mountain areas where folks rebuilt long-abandoned hydro dams, even have power again. So you are not just the only pocket of survival.”
“So why does Bluemont want us suppressed?”
“I saw my mission as assimilating back in.”
“Ever hear of the Borg? Jennifer was fond of the old reruns of that show. And, Bob, it looked like you had one hell of a fight going around Roanoke when I was up there a few weeks ago. Obviously, whoever was there was not happy about being assimilated.”
“It hasn’t been easy. I heard about that Posse group you took care of. There’s a lot like that still out there. Most have pulled back into what is left of the cities, gleaning whatever can still be looted and raiding out into nearby countryside. That’s why nearly every major urban center is dead ground. As for Roanoke, that was what we were fighting to put down. A number of decent folks were hidden in there and glad to see our return, but there were holdouts who we had to finish off. Did you know a group of maybe a thousand or more are still dug in at Winston-Salem? Chances are they’ve been eyeballing you for some time.”
That did catch John by surprise. Of course they would be fools not to assume that Charlotte, Winston-Salem, and major urban area were hotbeds of groups like the Posse, who had taken to settling in to one spot and systematically stripping out anything that could provide another meal until absolutely nothing was left and then striking out again. It was a good bit of intelligence. With the small city of Hickory coming into the State of Carolina, he’d have to look at beefing up their security.
“Thanks for that info.”
“It is the upside of why I took on this assignment. The ANR was a total failure. I saw my mission as reaching out to communities like yours. In more than a few, I had to separate the wheat from the chaff, and it got tough. But most survivors want to be pulled back into the fold. Bring stability and law and order back. That is the upside of my job, tough as it is. Network them together. I heard you’ve got electricity strung up. Sooner or later, after you get some electricity flowing again, you might start digging around in closets, basements, and realize that computers that had been tossed aside and not online the day we were hit just might still be functional.”
That caught John off guard. Had someone leaked that info, and if so, how had it reached Bob so quickly? Surely it had to be a guess or an observation of what had happened somewhere else. But as he looked at Bob, he was all but certain that it was a warning that someone within his own community was at the least talking too openly, or perhaps far worse, was a spy for Bluemont, maybe slipped in by Fredericks.
“Interesting guess, Bob.”
“Just an observation, that’s all.”
“Sir, we’ve drifted from the question I asked earlier.”
“And that is…?”
“Do you trust Bluemont? Are they truly the legitimate government of the United States as defined by the Constitution?”
There was no reply.
“Do you?”
Bob remained silent, finally breaking the moment by shading his eyes to look at the snow-covered mountains to the north. “Beautiful spot you have here. Linda wanted us to retire to Florida and after following me from pillar to post for near on forty years—how could I say no to her? But this is where I wanted to come. I even remember visiting this airport once. Thought about after retiring, getting my pilot’s license again, buying a plane like the one in the hangar we were just in. A nice club here to join.”
“Sir, dare I press that you are dodging me?” John said softly.
“Yes, John, I am.” The old general sighed and slapped his hands together several times to get the circulation going. “I’d better head back.”
“So that’s it?”
“Kind of.”
“It’s good to know you’re alive, sir.”
“And you too. I have a strong sense of faith, John. Your reason for coming here so many years ago was motivated by a tragedy, the illness and impending death of your wife and a place to raise your girls after she was gone. But as I look at it now, I feel you were led here by God for a higher purpose.”
“You helped to lead me here, sir.”
“Be that as it may. I’d like to think there is a purpose to all of this and a purpose for the position I know you must take.”
“If it means we will wind up as enemies, it is one I can barely grasp after everything you, I, and our country have been through.”
“You’ve given me food for thought. The trip was worth it.” Bob reached out, taking off his glove to grasp John’s hand. “As used to be said back during the Civil War, if a day comes when you and I must face each other across a field of conflict, each of us doing what we believe our duty compels us to do, know that I will do what I must do as my sense of duty and honor compels me to act.” He sighed, his voice going thick. “And it will be the worst day of my life.”
“For me as well, sir.”
The handshake turned into an embrace. Looking over Bob’s shoulder, John could see that the gathering outside the clubhouse stood silent, looking their way. John finally let go of the embrace, stepped back, came to attention, and saluted. Bob stiffened and returned the salute.
“God be with you, John.”
“And with you, sir.”
Bob started to turn away, hesitated, and then turned to face John again. “A word of warning: watch your back. Please watch your back every single minute until we meet again.”
*
John stood silent, parka hood back, hand up to shield his face from the stinging blast kicked up by the rotors as the Black Hawk lifted off. Fortunately, he could explain the tears clouding his vision as a reaction to the bitter cold.