Sic Semper Tyrannis (27 page)

CHAPTER 17

A President by any other name...

HANK SUTHBY HUNG UP the phone with a smile.  Today was looking to be a pretty damn good day.  He leaned back in his plush chair, placed his hands behind his head and looked at the ceiling.  There seem to be no end of good news today.  First, word had come from upstate New York—which in and of itself was good news as they hadn’t heard from that region since the beginning of the Troubles—another power plant had come online. 

Power remained restricted to the immediate area around the plant, but it was another step in the right direction.  There were at least 15,000 Americans that had power once more.  Word from Wyoming, Utah, Virginia, and Missouri promised even more power plants would be coming online soon.  The country was slowly—agonizingly slowly—but surely rousing itself from its electricity deprived slumber. 

On top of that, a fresh batch of American soldiers from Europe had arrived at Dulles international Airport early that morning.  They were exhausted, they were weary, and many were wounded.  Their hair-raising escape from Germany would make for a fine movie, he thought.  He smiled.  They were on home soil, they were ready to serve him, and they were mad as hell.

Best of all, the Secretary-General had officially named him Defender of the Realm.  Henry “Hank” Suthby, Junior,
was now the official leader of the newest United Nations protectorate.  He wondered what the Department of Justice would have to say about
that
.  He made a note to contact the new Attorney General soon as possible. 

One more step on the way to supreme leadership.  That was really what was needed to turn the country around.  If he didn’t have to go through Congress—even what was left of it—or the myriad Federal agencies to get things done…if he could just issue a decree and have it carried out. 
God, think of what I could accomplish!

He sighed.  The acid that had been eating away at his stomach unchecked for the past several months had finally subsided.  His anxiety was beginning to fade.  More and more members of Congress had come forth out of the wilderness, trying to make contact with what was left of the government.  Increasingly, they offered their support and allegiance to President Suthby.

President
, he thought. 
I wonder if we'll have to come up with a new term for my office.  Not King, I don't want to be a king...to many bad connotations there.  But I wasn't elected, and never will be.  So how can I be called President?  That's no better than some banana republic in South America.  Technically,
he thought one eyebrow raised in thought,
I should be considered some sort of dictator.  A benign one, with only what's best for the country at heart, but a dictator nonetheless.  So… What do I call myself?

He leaned forward in the chair and rested his arms on the massive executive desk.  He resolved to have Daniel solve that little problem, for it would have to be Daniel who offered the new title to the Press anyway.  It would sound too much like abject tyranny were he to simply announce that he was no longer to be called President… 

Shrugging that thought off, he got back to the matter at hand.  Not everything was going as planned today.  He glanced once more at the map on the wall.  Tucson.  The entire city wiped out.  By the Chinese, no less.  Sneaky little bastards.  They used all of the drama, all of the crisis, all of the turmoil affecting the United States as cover to sneak in the back door.  It had been confirmed, now.  And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.  The worst part was, the rest of the world knew that too—including the Chinese.

The National Guard has been overseas for years.  We don’t have enough troops coming home yet to make much of a difference, anyway. Can’t just rely on the civilian population, they wouldn’t do too well against a trained army…  Not to mention that second fleet from China the Navy spotted earlier this week.  May be halfway across the Pacific by now…Jesus.  They’re so confident of success, they didn't even bother trying to hide their presence from our ships still stationed at Hawaii. 

He looked down at the report in his hands and tried to focus back on Arizona.  The entire city of Tucson had been burned to the ground.  Casualties in the hundreds of thousands.   The only good news was that the vicious gangs which had taken control of the city when the lights went out had been obliterated along with the innocent. 

Suthby called for Daniel.  He hoped the young man could shed a positive light on the situation.  The Joint Chiefs had certainly put a sour note on things at the last briefing.

When Daniel walked in the door to his office, Suthby pointed at the map on the wall.  “What do we know about Arizona?”  He held up a hand as Daniel opened his mouth to speak.  “I mean right now.  And it better be good—so far everything is going right today.   I really don’t want anything to screw that up.”

Daniel shrugged.  “Late last night, we received word from Governor Lewis that they’ve lost all contact with Phoenix.”

Suthby scratched that the stubble on his chin.  “I said I wanted
good
news…”  He sighed.  “What do you mean, ‘lost all contact’ with Phoenix?  Did a bomb go off?  Did something happen to blow up the town or something?”

Daniel rummaged through some paperwork.  He pulled out the correct sheet and began to read.  “It was a brief communication sent—if you can believe it—by Morse code.  Anyway, the Chinese moved into the area and set the town on fire.  If this info is credible and we can link this to the Chinese forces that are rumored to be in the area…”

“There’s no rumor, Daniel.”  Suthby stood up and walked around the edge of the massive wooden desk.  “I had a briefing this morning with the Joint Chiefs—the ones that we can find at least,” he said.  “We have direct video evidence of Chinese assets operating in the southwest.  Someone at an air base in California spotted a Chinese vehicle.  Yesterday.  And now you say we lost contact with the city of Phoenix—right after reports of some sort of army burned Tucson to the ground.  That adds up to an act of
war
in my book.”

Daniel said nothing and stared at the map.  He walked over to the map and pulled out a pencil before drawing a circle around Phoenix.  He looked down at the notes in his hand, then drew another circle at Nogales on the border with Mexico and a third around Tucson. 

The President watched as Daniel scanned the next page in his notes and made another circle at a place on the Baja California coast. He made a triangle around the area in California where the report of Chinese vehicles was made.  Finally, Suthby watched as his Chief of Staff drew a line to connect all the dots.  It made a nice crescent.  Daniel extended the line and found that the arrow pointed straight toward San Diego.  “Why would they be going there?”

Suthby folded his arms and sat on the corner of his desk.  “The Navy thinks that they’ve picked up clues of a second Chinese fleet passing Hawaii.  No one has any visuals yet.  But, they were able to make contact with a few of our subs out there in the Pacific—it seems like this group of surface vessels is even bigger than the first one.  The one that brought all of the
medical supplies
and
food
to Mexico.”

“Oh, my God,” whispered Daniel.  “That’s a full on invasion, sir.”

Suthby rubbed his temples.  “Don’t I know it?”  He stood up and moved back to his plush chair and collapsed into the softness with bliss.  He drummed his fingers idly on the desk. 

So much for everything going right today
. 
Well
, he thought,
most
of the news is good
.
 
There’s not a whole hell of a lot I can do about China at the moment.  People out in the southwest will just have to fend for themselves for a few more days.  Maybe a week or so.  Two weeks tops…

“Sir, have you tried talking with the Secretary-General?  Now that we have achieved protectorate status…”

“Yes, I’ve mentioned this to the Secretary-General,” Suthby said.  He leaned back in his chair, contemplating the ceiling tiles once more.  “The Secretary-General is under the impression that the Chinese are completely innocent in this matter.  He has launched an investigation.  Unfortunately,” Suthby said as he let the chair return him to vertical, “the United States is no longer a permanent member of the Security Council.  When we attained protectorate status, we had to give up our position as
de facto
leader of the United Nations.  As such, any request coming from us is now deemed… Well, whatever we ask for is not exactly going to get top priority.”

Daniel stared at the head of the United States.  “What exactly are you saying, sir?  A foreign country is invading our land, we’re part of the United Nations, and they’re not going to do anything about it?  Even though China is part of the United Nations?  Not even a reprimand in the Assembly?”

Suthby raised his hands in resignation.  “Tell me about it!  China sits on the Security Council and is now—with Russia—basically the leader of the United Nations.

Daniel shook his head sadly and opened a folder in his stack of notes.  “Well, I don’t know if this will do anything to brighten your mood, but…” he handed the sheet of paper over.  “This is an official letter from the remaining heads of Congress.  A resolution in part, basically granting you legitimate authority to act as titular leader of the United States during the protectorate.  They make it expressly clear,” Daniel said pointing at the correct paragraph, “you are
not
to be considered a President in any sense of the Constitution.  Instead you are some sort of emergency executive, for the duration of the crisis.  Unless the United Nations does something different.  According to State, the United Nations is happy to see things as they are for the time being.”

Suthby looked up from the official document, his finger absently rubbing over the Congressional seal.  “So this,” he said holding up the paper, “basically says that everything I’m doing is now legitimate and should be taken with the full force and effect of law?”

Daniel nodded.

A smile spread across Suthby’s face.  “Then let’s put this to the test.”

CHAPTER 18

Prison Camp

THE DOOR TO THEIR cabin crashed open.  All twenty-three men in the small room had to shield their eyes from the bright afternoon sun.

Erik lowered his arm and saw the shapes of four men carrying rifles.  His mind raced as they stepped into the cabin.  He and the other captives had decided to jump the next group of Russians who showed up—if it was night outside.  The Russians had dragged him out for interrogation sessions during the day and sometimes at night.  They rotated on a random basis. 

Damn.  Not yet.  Needs to be dark out for this to have a chance…

The prisoners were starting to get used to the routine and tracked the passage of time by when people were hauled away for questioning.

The questions.  Stepanovich always started with “Are you in the special forces?”  Only then would he move on to inane topics like the weather—as if Erik could tell what the hell the sky was doing, or how hot it was outside when he was locked up in a building with covered windows.

Rough hands lifted Erik to his feet.  “Here we go again,” he muttered.

“Stay strong, sir,” someone replied from the darkness.

“Hooah,” said another voice.

“Silence!” roared one of the guards in his thick Russian accent.  Two of them held their rifles at the ready, daring the Americans to try something.  The other two had strong grips on both Erik’s arms and half-dragged, half-walked him out of the cabin into the pale light. 

Erik could see bits of ash floating in the air.  The sounds of nature had been suppressed, as if it were snowing.  Erik took a deep breath of the outside air and coughed.  Despite the pall in the sky caused by smoke from the world’s largest funeral pyre, he could smell the sweetness of the pines on the breeze.

“Move.”

Erik staggered forward and glanced over his shoulder at the guard who spoke.  Cold, blue eyes stared right back.  Erik dragged his feet and shuffled along, scanning his surroundings in an attempt to take in every detail out of the corner of his eyes.  The Russians prodded him with their rifles several times, but he suffered the abuse in silence.  The men in his cabin who had sworn to help him escape needed all the information he could gather.   That meant taking his time and observing
everything
.  It also meant faking an injury.  He limped slightly on his left leg to convince the Russians he was already moving at top speed.

The prison camp was situated in a Bible camp.  That bit of info had shocked everyone.  There were at least a dozen large cabins.  There was a lake nearby and the entire complex was a loose circle set deep in the pine woods. 

He couldn’t be sure which direction they were from Orlando because the smoke from the dead city was everywhere.  He squinted at the constant gray above the trees—even at night everything seemed gray.  Erik hadn’t seen any stars when he’d been dragged from the cabin after sunset.

Tucked away on the south side of the camp, there was a collection of two more cabins, an administration building and next to that, the cafeteria building.  The two large cabins, Erik discovered, held the women and children who had been traveling with Captain Winters’ soldiers.  He was sure that’s where Brin, Susan, and Ted’s kids were being held.  They
had
to be there.

Between the two cabins a razor-wire fence had been constructed to allow the prisoners to roam freely between the buildings.   Every time he limped past the two cabins, Erik desperately searched the faces that stared back on the other side of the fence.  He had yet to see Brin, Susan, or any of Ted’s kids.

Once more, Erik was disappointed as he shuffled past the two cabins prodded by his captors.  He was about to turn into the administration building for another round of questioning when the guards stopped and Stepanovich himself appeared around the corner.  He raised a hand and waved Erik over to the rough-hewn gate in the fence.  The women on the other side of the gate backed up as the Russian guards approached and shooed them away.

“Ah, hello there, my friend.”

Erik stared at the Russian and said nothing.  His fellow prisoners had been coaching him and he’d had a crash course in interrogation.  Stay quiet.  Watch.  Listen.

The Russian nodded and gestured for Erik to join him near the fence.  He smiled.  “I have a surprise for you today.”

Erik said nothing, but raised an eyebrow.
I’ll bet you do.

“No questions.”

“What?” Erik asked, shocked into speaking. 

“No questions.  You see?  I am not some barbarian.  As a show of good faith—which, I will expect you to relay to your comrades—I am going to let you stay here,” he said with a grand sweep of his arms, indicating the cabins where the families were being kept.  “For the time being.”  His smile broadened.  “Yes, you may see your wife.”

Erik closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer of thanks.  When he opened them, the Russian was still staring at him expectantly, a slight curl at the corners of his mouth.  The man was supremely confident.  He exuded arrogance.  He knew Erik would never turn down this offer.  Erik swallowed the bitterness of that knowledge and clung fast to a mental image of Brin.

He took a hesitant step toward the gate and froze.  “What do I have to do?”

The Russian looked surprised.  “Nothing, comrade Larsson.  Go,” he said and opened the gate.  “Find your wife.  We will talk later.”

Erik stared at the Russian, but hesitated only a moment longer before he staggered through the gate. He searched the faces of the women and children who had started to gather in the courtyard between the cabins.  There were many more people here than he had expected—the cabins were easily four times the size of the one in which he had been kept prisoner since Orlando fell.

“Brin?” he called as the gate squealed shut behind him.  “Brin?” he called again, louder.  Several women rushed up to him, all asking for news of their husbands.  They pulled on his sleeve and soon others surrounded him, all talking at once—crying, screaming, and begging for news of loved ones.  The noise melded together to form a raucous thunder that began make Erik’s head hurt.

“Brin!” Erik shouted, using his height to peer over the sea of heads.  He started moving forward, trying gently to use his arms and guide the women out of his path.  As soon as he moved one, two or three more pressed in to the gap and blocked his progress.

"Hey, I saw you when they brought you in!  You were with my husband!"

“Ow, easy!”

"What if you heard of Orlando?"

"Hey do you know—"

Erik blocked out the voices as he pushed someone roughly aside.  The woman yelled in protest, but Erik ignored her and kept going, shouting Brin's name over and over again.  He was working his way back toward the big cabin on the left when the door opened and Ted's youngest son, Junior, appeared in the doorway.  The little boy was the spitting image of Ted, right down to the crop of blond hair on his head.

"Mr. Erik!  You're back!" the toddler yelled.  Erik could have wept for joy.  He pushed his way free of the knot of women tagging around him and raced across the sandy soil to get to Junior.  Erik swept Junior up in his arms and spun through the air as the boy laughed with glee.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you!” Erik told the giggling boy.  He gently set Ted’s son down and knelt in front of him.  The voices of the women surrounding them were now less pleading and angrier.  He turned and silenced them with a dark look.

“I will talk with you all in a moment.  I need to speak to my friend’s son, here.”

Turning back to Junior, he said in a gentle voice: “Have you seen your daddy?  Have you heard from him?"

The towhead shook side to side.  "Nuh-uh."

"Okay Teddy, is your mommy here?"  Erik swallowed nervously.  "Is Miss Brin here?"

The smile returned to his angelic face and the boy nodded.  "Inside."   Junior’s face fell and he looked down, almost at the point of tears.  Before Erik could say anything else, the little boy clutched Erik's neck and flung himself into his arms.

"Mommy doesn't feel good.  Miss Ben says we need a doctor, but the bad men won’t let us see one.  I miss my daddy."

Erik suppressed a smile at the toddler’s mispronunciation of his wife’s name.  The little boy had yet to get it right.  "Teddy, this is very important… Can you take me to them?  Can you take me to your mommy?"

"Okay!" said Junior, all smiles again.  He turned and bolted into the interior of the building.  Erik was hot on his heels.  As his eyes adjusted to the gloom that felt so familiar, Erik realized that the interior of the building was much bigger than he had first thought.

He could see cots lining the walls on either side of him.  He heard moans, crying, and every now and then a cough.  As he followed the little boy into the darkness, a ripple of murmurs followed him.  Word had spread that someone had arrived from the outside.

Junior led Erik all the way to the far end of the building.  He noticed that many of the women laying in cots had bottles of water on the floor next to them.  Erik grudgingly admitted that at least the Russians were decent enough to treat the women and children better than they had thus-far treated the soldiers. 

Whispered talk preceded him down either side of the building as word spread from cot to cot.  Toward the back end of the building, Erik could see that one of the windows that the Russians had covered had been smashed, letting a ray of light in around the corner. 

It was in this little enclave that Erik found Brin, bent over the cot that held Ted's wife.

Erik froze when saw Susan’s condition.  Even in the semi-darkness, he could see that she was pale, with dark circles under her sunken eyes.  She was covered from the waist down with a soiled sheet, despite the heat of the day.  He watched the uneven, shallow rhythm of Susan's breathing.  The dark stains across her shirt and on the bed sheets told him all he needed to know.  Susan Jensen was not long for this world.

Brin leaned over her friend, looking at her watch and holding Susan's wrist in her right hand.  She had her back to the window and was looking down so she didn't see Erik standing there at the corner. 

The light from the shattered window bathed her in a soft glow and the motes of dust that swirled around her head resembled a halo.  Erik's heart swelled in relief and when he could contain himself no longer, he cleared his throat and stepped into the room.  Brin, startled at the sudden sound, looked up with sudden fear in her eyes.  The fear vanished and a grateful smile spread across her lips.  She gently put Susan's hand down and raced into Erik's arms.

"Are you okay?" she asked in a tremulous voice.  "I had no idea what happened—after that soldier hit you in the back of the head you just
dropped
… You just… They carried you—"

"Sssh… It's okay, I'm here… Everything is going to be okay now…" Erik said in a voice thick with emotion.  He smoothed her oily hair and wiped the smudge of dirt from her cheek with his trembling thumb.  "God, I'm so glad to see you.  Are you okay?"

"Erik…" She looked down and for the first time Erik realized that her filthy shirt was torn at the shoulder.  The top two buttons were missing.  On further examination, he saw that her the left side of her face was slightly puffy and she sported a faint black eye.  The corner of her lip was dark with dried blood.

"What did they—"

Brin inhaled sharply and he felt her body stiffen.  She looked Erik in the eyes and said in a quiet voice, "We can deal with this later.  We have to get out of this place.  We have to save Susan.  Erik, the kids…"

Erik felt his hands tremble with rage.  He couldn't bring himself to think, let alone say anything about the sounds he had heard through the wall that first terrible day of captivity.  The evidence on Brin's face and clothes certainly appeared to confirm his worst fears.

"What…" he said through clenched teeth.   He swallowed, took a deep breath, and tried again.  "Today…?"  His shaking hands gently touched her cheek and forehead, trying to smooth the hair that threatened to fall across her face.

Brin’s slender shoulders shook with a suppressed sob as she leaned into his chest and tried to bury her face in his shoulder.  "What they did… I… Erik, I'm sorry…"

Erik wrapped his arms around his wife and held her tight, murmuring for her to be quiet and just breathe.  "Don’t ever be sorry, baby.  It wasn’t your fault.  Brin, whatever happened… We'll get through this.  We'll get through it together."

He could feel Brin shaking her head against him.  "Erik, it's not that simple… I just…”  A new hardness entered her voice.  “We don't have time to deal with this right now."  

Erik hadn't seen his wife this way since the fall of the Freehold.   He had rushed up the stairs of the Keep expecting to see the worst and found Brin completely in charge of trying to save Susan's life.  Brin had amazed him then with her tactical awareness, her coolness during the crisis, and her ability to calm everyone in the room enough that Susan's life could be saved by the professionals.  That same strength of will, the same steel in her voice and stiffness in her spine were back.