William Forstchen - The Final Day

“But then?”

“He deserted and did it on his own.”

“What?”

“You heard me correctly, and that stays here. Okay?”

John nodded.

“Why desert?”

“He picked up on some rumors. Told me the night before he lit out that he could no longer abide by those orders, and the following morning he was gone, along with three others in a Humvee.”

“What rumors?”

Bob hesitated for a moment and then relented, speaking softly.

“You asked me about this at the airport the other day and I didn’t feel comfortable telling you then, but now? I think it is time you realized what I am trying to contain, what all of us are facing. There’s some talk. Can’t say how, where, or from whom. Just talk that if need be, Bluemont will trigger an EMP.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” John cried. “Against who?”

“Southern United States.” Bob shook his head and then stood up. “You repeat that to anyone and I’ll have you gagged and hauled out of here today, whether it turns into a fight or not. I’ve said too much already.” There was a sharp edge of warning—or was it panic in his voice for having said more than he should have?

“You say a word anywhere, and by God, I will ship you to Bluemont, let this place rebel, and then you know the results. Do you read me, Colonel Matherson?”

During his entire career under this general, John could only recall several real dressing-downs, though he had witnessed it delivered to many another. Bottom line, it was why some stayed majors and colonels and only a select few had generals’ stars pinned to their uniforms. There at times had to be this ruthless edge no matter whom it was being delivered against.

“John, I’m trying to beat the clock. I have orders to neutralize Atlanta and bring it back into the fold within the month. It’s to demonstrate to China and the rest of the world that we are firmly in control of our territory east of the Mississippi. I need Asheville along with Greenville-Spartanburg as secured staging areas for the push south. I need that now.”

“Whoever gave you that order is insane. Atlanta is now the lower circle of hell, Bob. You could sink an entire army corps into that place and it will be another Fallujah.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Bob replied wearily. “Asheville is part of a far bigger game. And if it doesn’t work, Bluemont is willing to do whatever they deem necessary to get their point across to everyone here. It’s seen as a message as well to China that we will use any means possible to pacify remaining resistance within our territory and in turn a clear warning as well to not press us any further.”

Whether what he said was planned and intentional or not, he must have inwardly realized he had spilled a highly classified secret.

“All right, sir, it stays in this room. You have my oath on that. But please go on.”

Bob sat down and looked at the half-empty mug of herbal tea. “You sure you got nothing else here?” he finally asked, motioning to his empty cup.

John nodded, stood up, and without another word went out into the hallway. Several of his students were still hanging about, and he asked them to fetch Kevin Malady. His campus commander of their battalion was before him less than a minute later. John whispered a request, and Kevin grinned and ran off.

It was, of course, a dry campus, but even under the strictest of rules at any such place, there were always some ready to bend those rules, and one had to be foolish not to recognize that fact. Kevin was back in less than five minutes, handing over a small hiking backpack. John took it back into the office, closed the door, and produced a quart bottle of moonshine, half-full, and just handed it to Bob, who took a long swig and passed it to John, who took a drink as well before putting the lid back on and passing it back.

“One of the traditional products of these mountains,” John said, coughing a bit since it certainly was strong stuff and burned on the way down.

Bob took another long sip and nodded his thanks. “Good stuff,” he gasped, and he motioned to push the jar back.

“Keep it.”

“Thanks, I will. Not Dalwhinnie fifteen-year-old scotch, but one lives with what they can these days.” He took another sip and sighed. “All right, John, do I have your sworn oath that what I have said will stay in this room? Not even to your wife, who I hope to soon meet?”

John finally nodded.

“Just rumor, mind you. Some chatter my own people picked up off encrypted sat comms. Speculation that to bring down Atlanta and any other pockets of resistance in the South, an EMP will be burst above the Gulf of Mexico coast to knock off-line any technology they’ve managed to bring back up over the last two years, and then we move in the following day. Line-of-sight effect, as you know. It would include here.”

“In the name of God, why?” As John asked, he thought of just how delicate the infrastructure his community had managed to bring back online over the last year and a half was. Even a low-yield burst would destroy everything they had managed to re-create.

“Knocks whatever is left down and takes them off balance. You aren’t the only one who is getting the genie back out of the bottle when it comes to electricity, getting some cars and trucks running again.” Bob now fixed him with a sharp gaze. “Or the Black Hawk here and there that has gone missing and could raise hell with our side.”

“Isn’t this a sledgehammer to blot out a fly? What threat do we present?”

“It would be a message to the rest of the world as well even if Bluemont says someone else did it—that we are ready to do it to the entire rest of the world and will not hesitate to do so. We’ve been pushed back as far as we will accept and no further. It is a game far beyond you and me, but it will bring down everything you and your friends have created here.”

John felt sick inside just thinking of how each small step back from the darkness had so lifted the morale of all. To suddenly have that go entirely down again would be a final deathblow. If it was delivered, whoever was left afterward might as well crawl into their graves and pull the sod over themselves and die.

He could not reply and just sat there in silence. If at this moment Bob had produced a cigarette, he would have taken it, his pledge to Jennifer gone, for indeed there would be nothing left, no hope left, no dream of rebuilding if this was indeed the level that Bluemont was willing to go to.

“It is why I had to bring you in now, John,” Bob said softly, taking another sip from the mason jar. “I’m trying to forestall it, to make a stab at Atlanta first and hope for the best. If that fails, at least I can argue that this region is back in the fold, and if an EMP is detonated to do it farther out to sea or at lower altitude so you are not impacted.”

“Bob, just sit back for another year or two, let those barbarians left in Atlanta literally eat each other, then you might be able to move in. But try it now? EMP first or not, you damn well had better have a lot more troops than General Sherman did; otherwise, it will be a bloody disaster.”

Bob nodded sadly and then made a show of looking at his old-style wristwatch. “It’s been nearly an hour. I don’t want my young officer up there to get anxious and come looking for me. It might trigger something.”

“The mood my people are in, if he comes down here like gangbusters, yes, it will go bad.”

“Then I’d better get back.” Bob stood up, John rising as well.

“What next?” John asked.

“I’m setting up forward headquarters in Asheville. Can you assure me there won’t be a fight?”

“Asheville? Not sure. Chances are there won’t be resistance; the fight was already punched out of that town long ago. I think, though, your safer bet would be to laager in at the airport, far enough out of town so you don’t have to deal with some nutjob sniper, but close enough that everyone will know you’re there. If that convoy that’s coming up from Greenville, South Carolina, gets through the Green River Gorge safely, the airport would be a good place to rendezvous.”