John nodded. “Of course.” He turned to the others in the room. “Why don’t you all take the next few moments to think about what’s on our plate going forward and how each of your teams are going to make them happen.” He left, trying to put on his best smile, but knowing all the while that being summoned from an important meeting could only mean one thing: trouble.
Chapter 7
John was being led to the infirmary, that was all he knew, and the first thought to cross his mind was that something had happened to Gregory. His son was so desperate to prove his worth that John could easily imagine him biting off more than he could chew.
“Who got hurt, Devon? Will you at least tell me that much?”
“It’s too complicated,” Devon said as the two of them marched down the sidewalk.
Weeds and dandelions pushed up through the cracks in the concrete and every day the streets smelled more and more of waste and garbage. Oneida was slowly becoming an urban relic from the mid-1800s.
Devon marched along at a good pace. No older than twenty-two or twenty-three, he had the physique of a man, but the face of a boy, with rosy cheeks and eyes that sparkled. He had been one of the Patriots who had helped free the town. Charging in repeatedly under heavy fire, Devon had retrieved four wounded men from the battlefield. The Patriot militia didn’t have any formal way of honoring heroic acts and so John had set one up. They’d called it the Medal of Daring, a recognition bestowed on any member of the community who went above and beyond the call of duty. It was fashioned from spent 5.56 shell casings and a piece of fabric belt. Devon wore it on his chest with pride in spite of its humble creation.
A moment later¸ the two men arrived at the infirmary. John went in first and entered a dimly lit room. A handful of security personnel were milling about, whispering to one another. All eyes were on a man with shredded clothing and a battered face, lying on a cot. A nurse named Samantha Hill was dabbing his forehead with a wet cloth.
“What happened?” John asked. “Was there an accident?”
Reese was in the corner of the room, leaning back in a chair against the wall. He knocked a cigarette out from a pack with Russian writing on it and lit the tip with a Zippo. Righting his chair, Reese stood and made his way to John.
“I don’t think you should be smoking in here,” John told the sniper. It didn’t matter that Reese and his Remington 700 had played such a vital role in removing the Chairman, not to mention in saving Diane’s life. This was a hospital.
“I don’t know how those Russians smoke these things,” Reese said, examining the pack of Belomorkanal cigarettes. “Why couldn’t those supply trucks we hijacked have been filled with Marlboros? Is that too much to ask?” He dropped the lit cigarette at his feet and put it out with the tip of his shoe. “Our friend here isn’t from Oneida,” Reese told John, pointing to the man. “Stumbled into one of our patrols hobbling through the forest. By the looks of him he hasn’t eaten in days.”
“Is he American?” John asked.
“So far as we can tell. Says his name is David Newbury, that he’s on his way to find his wife and kids. He lives in Oak Ridge, but was in Little Rock, Arkansas on business when the Chinese, Russian and North Korean units stormed the city.”
“Oak Ridge? That’s near Knoxville. What’s he doing this far north?”
Reese shook his head. “Wondered the same thing myself. I believe he was moving by night and trying to stay off the main highways. Must have got himself lost. Navigating using stars isn’t something you can learn off the internet. Says he was a member of a survivalist forum, whatever that means, and thought he knew what he was doing.”
John agreed. The man’s desire to learn survival techniques was commendable, but trying to use things you’d only seen on a webpage made about as much sense as performing surgery after watching Grey’s Anatomy.
“Any word on what happened to Little Rock?”
“Seems the Chinese practically razed it to the ground. Wasn’t much resistance ’cept a few pockets of citizens, according to him. I guess most of ’em didn’t know the military had pulled back to the Mississippi. Poor souls.” Reese shook his head, the muscles in his face tightening with the thought.
“Did you run him through the test?”
“Oh, yeah, our friend here can name every state in the Union along with each of their capitals. Also knew who Garth Brooks was and could name every member of Lady Antebellum.”
John smiled. “Who’s Lady Antebellum?”
“Either he’s the real deal, John, or a Russian whiz. He’s even got his Southern drawl down pat.”
“Fine,” John answered, growing impatient. “So he’s the real deal. Now why did you summon me from an important meeting to tell me all of this?”
“Turns out the enemy’s taking people from territory they capture and sending them to special camps.”
John’s gaze tightened on Reese.
“Our man here, David, spent nearly a month in one near Jonesboro before he was able to escape while on a scavenging detail.”
“A what?”
“The enemy has groups of prisoners emptying homes of non-perishable goods in the cities they conquer. He managed to slip out a back window and make a break for it. But I have a good idea how those savages operate. You pull something like that and they’ll do what they did in East Germany and North Korea. Kill your entire family, and if that’s not an option, then ten strangers they pick at random.”
“Is that it?”
Reese shook his head. “They aren’t throwing these people in camps to keep ’em under control. They’re forcing them to work, most of the time without food. The drinking water is contaminated. People are dying in the hundreds everyday. The ones who survive are put through gruelling ‘re-education’ programs. Apparently the Chinese and North Koreans wanna make communists out of us. The Russians don’t seem to agree, but aren’t raising much of a stink so far.”
John wiped a hand down his face. “So what are we supposed to do about it?” he yelled, drawing the eyes of those around them. “You’re talking about a heavily fortified camp behind enemy lines.”
“I know, John. There’s nothing we can do. I’m just relaying what the man said.”
That pressure was pushing down on John’s shoulders again. A forced labor camp just west of the Mississippi filled with Americans sent there to die. It was like something out of World War II. He knew it wouldn’t be too long now before the enemy got the power back on in the territories under their control and then put people to work pumping out tanks, bullets and planes. Before long, America’s own industrial might would be turned against her. Once that happened, they wouldn’t stand a chance.
John was on his way back to the meeting when he saw the department heads shuffling out. Moss was among them and John pulled him aside and filled him in on David Newbury’s story.
“You think it’s credible?” Moss asked. “I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time false news was sent our way to destroy our resolve. Those Chinese are great at head games.”
“I thought of that,” John said. “Either way, there’s nothing we can do about it now. But we need to step up our defenses. The last thing I want is anyone in Oneida being carted away to some forced labor camp.”
The sun was directly in Moss’ face, highlighting the creases of tension rippling his features. “None of us want that. I’ve already established horseback patrols and checkpoints along every road in here.”
“We’ll need more, plenty more. I wanna turn this town into an impenetrable fortress.”
The muscles in Moss’ face tensed and then relaxed. “So what do you have in mind?”