William Weber - Warlords

“West of Jonesboro.” The way she spoke the name it sounded like Joanboro.

“Jonesboro, Arkansas.” That was exactly where David Newbury had located it, which meant she was probably telling the truth.

Huan nodded.

“And what purpose does the camp serve?”

“POWs, but that is only a small part. Most of the inmates are political prisoners, forced laborers and citizens who require re-education.”

“By forced labor you mean slave labor.”

Huan nodded reluctantly. She had a conscience, probably the only reason this interrogation was going anywhere. John was thankful, since the alternative would have been increasingly brutal forms of torture and resulting intelligence that would have been questionable at best.

“What are they making?”

“Things to help the war effort.”

Hearing it reminded John of Germany’s camps during the Second World War.

“And what about the re-education you mentioned?”

“Following conquest, the United States will be divided into two major zones of control. One controlled by China, the other by Russia.”

“And what about North Korea? What will they get?”

“Canada.”

“Wow. I guess that’s one way to do it.” This whole conversation was starting to feel surreal, like children arguing over starting positions in a giant game of Risk. “So your government wants to wring capitalism out of the Americans under its control?”

“We are also capitalist, don’t forget. It is notions of democracy that must be erased.”

John was nodding, trying not to look as agitated on the outside as he was feeling on the inside. “I don’t think that’ll be as easy as your people think.”

“Maybe not, but General Wei Liang is quite confident.”

John’s expression changed. She’d let slip the name of a major player and he wanted to get as much info on this person as he could. “Who’s General Liang?”

“The supreme commander of all Chinese and North Korean forces. Once the United States is defeated, General Liang will become the military governor of the People’s Republic of China occupation zone.”

“But how have you determined the zones of control?”

“That will be determined after the defeat.”

John scratched at the stubble on his chin. If what Huan was telling him was true, then the enemy was doing to the United States what the Allies had done to Germany during WWII. In those final weeks of the war, a race of sorts had begun to gobble up as much territory as possible, a contest which the Russians had won.

It also meant that tensions were likely to exist in the current alliance between China and Russia. Just as in the past, each nation was now attempting to outmaneuver the other in order to claim the biggest piece of the pie once hostilities ceased. At the very least, this new piece of information meant General Liang was a man of some ambition. And John knew very well the way ambition had a habit of blinding men until it was too late.

“It seems to me,” John said, “as though North Korean forces have been resigned to a secondary role.”

“They have,” she admitted. “Their primary objective is to guard the supply routes and operate in the rear.”

“I see.” Cracks certainly existed in what was beginning to look like a fragile alliance. And given the right pressure, even a small crack could lead to a catastrophic failure.

But Huan had one more secret to divulge, one even John hadn’t been ready for.

“There is one other thing about the internment camps I have not told you. A rumor, although I have heard it from a reliable source.”

John leaned in. “Go on.”

“While the men are being worked to death to help support the war effort, the women are being forced into a breeding program.”

“A what?” John asked, not entirely sure if he’d heard her properly.

“A powerful company called BDI Shenzhen has sent personnel to occupied territory in order to help promote Chinese principles. The EMP and subsequent war will have taken a great toll on your population. The People’s Republic is trying to help repopulate these lands. To make them more… Asian.”

“You’re trying to breed us out of existence?”

“I’m not doing anything,” Huan protested. “The same has been going on in Tibet for many years. It is a slow process of diluting the existing genetic makeup.”

As insane as it sounded, the more Huan spoke, the more John realized there were historical precedents for what she was telling him. The English in Scotland during the Middle Ages had practiced ‘le droit du seigneur’, translated roughly as ‘the lord’s right’, which enabled him to sleep with a peasant girl on the first night of her marriage. The idea was to dilute Scottish blood and breed them into a state of subservience.

John could only imagine the countless numbers of camps that already dotted the states now under enemy control and the unspeakable horrors being perpetrated there.

John had given explicit instructions that he not be interrupted, so when the sudden knock came at the door, he knew something was wrong.

Ray poked his head in, a dour expression on his weathered face. “We have a situation.”

Ray brought John over to the Pioneer Community hospital on Alberta Street where dozens of people were milling around the entrance.

Oneida’s main doctor, a short, balding man with horn-rimmed glasses and a sweaty complexion named Dr. Trent Coffey, met them outside on the front stairs. His twenty-five-year-old son Daniel, also a doctor, worked with his father, but was likely inside seeing to patients.

“What’s going on?” John demanded. “Ray told me there was a problem.”

“We believe a cholera epidemic’s broken out,” Dr. Coffey said.

“What do you mean, you think?”

“Since this morning, we’ve had over thirty people admitted, complaining of leg cramps, profuse diarrhea and vomiting.”

John put a hand up to his forehead to block out the sun. “How is it transmitted? Is this contagious?”

“The method of transmission is through contact with infected feces. A fly that’s been contaminated only has to land on your food for it to spread. But it means that the water supply might be contaminated. Have your people been boiling the water after filtering it?”

“That’s the protocol,” John said. “Although I can’t say for sure. Maybe some of them are cutting corners.” John turned to Ray. “Do you know anything about this?”

Ray shook his head. “Not at all. I thought the same as you, John.”

“Somehow the bacteria’s getting into the water supply,” Dr. Coffey said. “That must be the entry point, which means that either the sanitation department isn’t processing the waste properly or…”

“That’s Dan Niles’ job,” Ray blurted out. “Let me have a word with his people. See where the runoff is being directed.”

John considered this. “Where’s the town’s main source of drinking water at the moment?” he asked.

“I believe it’s Ponderosa Lake,” Ray replied.

“Then change it to Laxton Lake right away.”

“Laxton’s a lot further away. Moving that much water without vehicles isn’t easy. Shelley Gibson’s people are going to have a fit.”

“Then let them have a fit,” John barked, still on edge from his interrogation with Huan. “We still have horses, don’t we?”

Ray nodded reluctantly.

“Then put them to good use. I know Diane won’t mind diverting the ones she has from farming for an emergency. Besides, the last thing we need is an epidemic breaking out in our midst when foreign armies are only a few hundred miles away.” He turned to Dr. Coffee. “So you’ve got the infected quarantined?”