The Last Rebellion, page 6
part #3 of EMP Survivor Series
The no-pressure attitude pulled people in; like a cunning salesman, Copeland understood when to push and when to leave it alone. And with the others so desperate for food and a better life, they jumped at the chance.
“Wait!” The man who’d spoken up previously chased after them. “We’ll come.”
“Us, too!”
“And us!”
Soon everyone but the scarred man had stepped forward.
“Excellent!” Copeland exclaimed with so much joy that the others were almost relieved the offer was still on the table. “You will all be fine additions to our family.”
Everyone who stepped forward was all smiles and happy with excitement from the prospect of a better life that resembled normalcy. But Danny had already seen the other side of that normalcy. And these people, if they didn’t choose to commit fully, would be dragged to the bottom of the ocean.
And even though he had garnered new followers, Copeland pleaded to the scarred man one last time.
“Sir, please,” Copeland said. “We have more than enough room and food; we can—”
“I’m not a charity case,” he growled. “If you want to take those sheep, so be it, but don’t expect me to fall into line.”
Copeland nodded, choosing to drop the subject. “Very well.” He turned his attention to his recruits and then guided them away from the wreck on the highway.
Danny glanced back to the man who had stayed as they left, and he noticed two other children in the large semi-trailer, peering out with hungry eyes. But one look from their father, and they quickly scurried back into the darkness.
It was the way the children moved that reminded Danny of the way his father would be violent and aggressive toward him. It was the fear of violence that prompted that kind of retreat. And Danny wondered what fate they were leaving those two children to who stayed behind.
9
“We don’t know how many fighters Sir has coming, and he’s not going to tell us,” Charlie said. “But we have the advantage and disadvantage of defending an island. We need to shore up our weak points and sharpen our edges.”
Charlie, Shelly, Thompson, and Cash stood around Thompson’s kitchen, a map of the island sprawled over the table.
“The scouts we sent to the mainland didn’t find anyone else,” Cash said. “So, the fighters who infiltrated the island today were all who were local.”
Cash had been tasked with walking the mainland for signs that the bulk of Sir’s forces were waiting in the weeds, but he had seen nothing.
“Our strength is the water around us,” Charlie said. “Sir’s forces will know we’ll see boats coming a mile away, so we can expect another swim creep up, and we can prepare for that.” Charlie outlined the shallows around the island on the map with his finger. “We double the watches along the shores and build hunting blinds to conceal the people we have watching the water. We want to be able to see the enemy, but we don’t want the enemy to see us.”
“If the fighters coming are packing the same kind of hardware we saw today, we’ll need more than hunting blinds to fend them off,” Thompson said.
They had dressed down the fighters they had killed, and all of them were decked out in high-grade tactical gear. Complete with working night vision goggles, body Kevlar, assault weapons with laser tracking scopes, and all of the bells and whistles usually reserved for special forces.
“They’ll hit us hardest with their tactical knowledge,” Charlie said. “The man in charge of Sir’s special unit, I know him. He’ll think they can walk over us without a fight.”
“He’s not wrong,” Shelly said. “We don’t have soldiers. We have fishermen and families on this island.”
“We’re already changing that,” Charlie said, turning to Thompson. “I know you were in the reserves. Everyone old enough to fight needs to know everything a soldier would know and then some. No exception, they must know how to shoot accurately, fight, and defend themselves.”
“Training people how to use a weapon is one thing,” Thompson said. “Preparing them for war is another. Is that what you think is really going to happen?”
The truth was Charlie had no idea of the lengths Sir would go to obtain his freedom. But he wasn’t going to underestimate his opponent.
“I want people to be ready to fight,” Charlie answered. “We’ve started with small groups but need to scale it up immediately. We can use weapons from my cache at the cabin and the assault weapons in your armory, Sheriff.”
“What about ammunition?” Shelly asked. “We might have guns, but we don’t have an unlimited supply of bullets. Training all of these people will require much ammunition.”
Charlie reached into the bag he had brought with him, removed a small device, and set it on the table. “Reloads. We have plenty of gunpowder. We’ll collect the shell casings after people are finished with target practice, and then we'll teach them how to make their own reloads. Rinse and repeat.”
Thompson nodded. “That’s as good of a plan as any.”
“While you all are preparing the island, I’ll head to the mainland and speak to my contact,” Charlie said.
“Do you think he’s still alive?” Shelly asked.
“He’s too stubborn to die,” Charlie answered. “I’ll find him.” He turned to the map of the island. “I shouldn’t be more than half a day. I don’t think Sir’s forces will consider a full-fledged attack on us for another few days, so we’ll have time to prepare.”
There was no doubt in Charlie’s mind that others would come after Sir. The people loyal to him were fanatics who won at all costs, no matter the consequences. It was in the way Sir trained people at The Bunker. It was an all-or-nothing mentality. They were taught to be the line in the sand, the last defense. But no one had ever questioned what they were defending, and it turned out to be a lunatic with evil intentions.
“We should get to it,” Charlie said, ready to end the meeting, but Shelly cleared her throat, catching everyone’s attention.
“Are we sure there isn’t anything else we could do to give ourselves an advantage?” Shelly asked.
She didn’t say it outright, but Charlie and Thompson knew she was referencing the device locked away in Thompson’s basement. Charlie hadn’t wanted to bring it up because he didn’t want to use it, but Shelly didn’t look like she was ready to back down from her suggestion.
“We can discuss other methods when I return,” Charlie said, shutting down the conversation. “We have work to do.”
Charlie disbanded the meeting, with Thompson taking Cash back to the station to start recruiting the rest of the island. But as Shelly and Charlie walked the path back to the cabin so Charlie could prepare for his trip, Shelly wasn’t done speaking her mind.
“It’s foolish not to use the device, Charlie,” Shelly said.
“We have a plan,” Charlie said.
“And that plan would be better if we could utilize everything in our arsenal,” Shelly said. “You saw what four of those men did to this island. They tore it up. Imagine what twenty or thirty of them could do?”
“Thompson and Cash will get people ready—”
“Charlie,” Shelly said, stepping in front of him and blocking his path, “it won’t matter if we had weeks to prepare. The people here aren’t fighters. You know this. They go up against an elite force like the one preparing to come here, and they’ll be slaughtered.”
Deep down, Charlie knew she was right. But he also understood it would be impossible to use the device to prepare the island’s defenses and still keep it a secret.
“People will have questions, and we won’t have all the answers,” Charlie said. “You’ve seen how quickly a crowd can turn volatile. When people have doubts, they fill that space in their heads with crazy ideas. Violent ideas.”
“You need to give these people more credit,” Shelly said. “Sure, there will be some who will try to take advantage, but you know we’d be able to handle them. Charlie, this is a fight we have to win.”
In that regard, Charlie agreed. “So, how would you use the device?”
“What’s the biggest tactical advantage we could gain against a superior fighting force?” Shelly asked.
Charlie gave it some thought and then had his answer. “Air superiority.”
Shelly smiled. “Exactly. There’s an electronic store nearby on the mainland I saw when I was out scavenging for medical supplies a few days ago where I saw some drones. We could use those to wreak havoc on the enemy and outfit them with guns and explosives. It would give us an edge that we need.”
It was a good idea, but Charlie was still hesitant to go through with it. But in the end, he knew his wife was right about needing an edge against this enemy. “Why don’t we start by getting the drones first to see what we can do with them? But keep the device quiet until I get back so we can devise a plan to show everyone. I want to do it all at once.”
“Okay,” Shelly said.
“And don’t forget to take one of the belts,” Charlie said.
The “belt” was less of a fashion statement and more of a utility device. Charlie had put them together for his family to use on excursions off the island. He’d made them out of old military packs and stored anything and everything he could think of in them. Benji said they were like Batman’s utility belt.
With the island set to prepare for the coming storm, Charlie turned his attention to his trip to the mainland. And while Charlie was confident he could find his old colleague, he was uncertain of the welcome he would receive.
10
Jim Mueller stared at the blank screen of his useless phone. It wasn’t working, just like everyone else’s phone after the EMP had detonated. Like many others who had documented their lives on their digital devices, he had lost more than just the ability to call or text someone. They lost photographs and memories of their friends and family, which had been documented on their now-broken devices.
Mueller had lost his mother three years ago from breast cancer. She had fought it for almost two years before succumbing to the disease. Burying his mother was the hardest thing Mueller had ever done.
His last picture of him and his mother was on his phone. It was a few weeks before she had died. She had been well enough to go out of the hospital for a day trip. He had taken her out on the boat, and she smiled from the sunshine and salt spray on her face. She had loved the water. She had loved living on this island.
After she had passed, Mueller buried her here in their family plot, next to his father. He hated resting her next to that man, who had been a monster since Mueller was born. But his mother had been his guiding light and protector.
Mueller’s father had been a complex and violent man. Even to this day, Mueller still had nightmares about his father’s abuse.
The beatings were never enough for a visit to the hospital to arouse suspicion, but gossip on the island spread quickly. Everyone knew what Mueller’s father was doing, and no one had said a damned word about it.
It was a chip Mueller had carried on his shoulder as he’d grown older. He resented that no one stuck up for him or tried to intervene in his father’s abuse, not even Sheriff Thompson, though he was only a deputy in those days.
It was also one of the reasons Mueller was so nosy. His father used to make fun of him for it, saying he took after his mother. His father had been a hard man, an old-schooler who didn’t have time for love or affection. He commanded respect through fear.
Mueller was desperate to command the kind of respect his father lorded over his family. He wanted the approval of his fellow captains and to be the kind of leader people flocked to in times of need.
But Charlie Owens had dashed those hopes. The island had turned to an outsider in their time of need, but Mueller was determined to change that. It was why he had followed Owens to the sheriff’s house.
It was the third meeting between Thompson and the Owens in as many days. And the fact that they were all meeting in Thompson’s house instead of the sheriff’s station suggested they wanted the sessions to be kept quiet. Mueller was sure they were hiding something and wanted to know what it was.
Outsiders had always been shunned on Beckett Island. It had been that way for as long as the island had existed for the past sixty years. They took care of their own here, and anyone who didn’t belong was repelled from the island like a foreign antibody.
When Mueller was young, outsiders nearly destroyed his family and the island. A new family arrived with a new fishing vessel. It was outfitted with the latest technology, and the family operating it had high hopes of dominating the local fisheries. And for a while, they did.
The other families on the island had protested at first, but the family was clever. They helped out just enough of the other boat captains to sway opinion on the island to retain their fishing spots. But Mueller’s family had been left out of the inner circle and had to fend for themselves.
And every day, Mueller’s father’s catch dwindled to less and less until he couldn’t afford the fuel to fish anymore. Mueller remembered how his father had begged people to help him, but they looked down on him. And that only made Mueller’s father angrier, and he took that anger out on Mueller and his mother.
Just before Mueller’s father was about to sell the boat, there was a police raid from the game and wildlife commission, and they arrested the new family. They had been illegally poaching fish and other marine life out of season or that were endangered and selling them on the black market.
The big scandal rocked the fishing community, and because some of the other captains were involved with the racket, their families were destroyed by financial ruin, and half of the island moved away.
But that presented an opportunity for Mueller’s father, who was able to capitalize on the open fishing grounds. Ever since then, Beckett Island had been wary of outsiders. But the passage of time had fogged the memory.
The Owens family had tricked some of the islanders, and Mueller had taken it upon himself to figure out precisely what the Owens were planning.
Mueller hung out behind one of the houses, watching Thompson’s front window. They hadn’t drawn the blinds, and Mueller tried to make out what they were all saying, but he couldn’t read lips.
The meeting was short, and when the Owens couple left, they both looked perturbed with one another.
“Trouble in paradise,” Mueller said to himself.
Mueller followed the Owens through the neighborhood, keeping his distance and catching what pieces of information he could as the wife raised her voice. It was hard for Mueller to make sense of any fragmented conversation, but there was one phrase Mueller heard loud and clear as Shelly became agitated.
“We should use it as a tactical advantage,” Shelly said.
Mueller paused and contemplated the curious nature of the comment. He was more than well aware of the attack that had occurred this morning, and while Thompson had assured everyone that it was taken care of and they were safe, Mueller didn’t believe him, and plenty of others shared his sentiment.
Whatever they spoke about must have revolved around the earlier attack. And Mueller had already made a connection between the presence of the Owens family and the number of violent altercations on the island.
Mueller had shared these sentiments with others, but no one was prepared to voice their concerns openly. Everyone was convinced Sheriff Thompson had things under control. But Mueller didn’t believe that anymore. Something was going on, and the Owens were behind it.
Mueller returned to Thompson's house, unable to follow the Owens couple unseen once they left the neighborhood. He walked the sheriff’s home perimeter a few times before approaching closer and peering through a window.
It was apparent Thompson wasn’t home, and Mueller knew Thompson always kept his side garage door unlocked. And even after everything that had happened on the island, all of the attacks, the EMP, everything, Thompson kept it open.
However, the door into the house inside the garage was a different story. It remained locked, but the garage cover allowed Mueller to pry open the door with a less than stealthy technique of using a crowbar that splintered the door frame.
It would be evident to Thompson that someone had broken in, but if Mueller wanted to find the silver bullet to bring the Owens family down for good, he needed to take drastic measures.
Feeling like a criminal, Mueller stepped inside Thompson’s house and quickly moved to the kitchen where he’d seen them meet earlier. He found a map of the island on the table, which had markings on it around the island’s beaches.
Mueller looked through drawers and cupboards and checked Thompson’s bedroom and medicine cabinet, but he found nothing of use. The last location was the basement, where Mueller knew Thompson kept his gun safe.
Mueller hadn’t started there because he knew he couldn’t get the safe open or even move it if he wanted to. It was far too big. But as Mueller walked down into the tiny, unfinished basement that only comprised the safe along with a few shelves of canned foods and other provisions, he couldn’t help but think the answer to his problems was locked away behind the door of the large vault.
“What did you put in there?” Mueller asked, whispering to himself.
Mueller approached the safe, staring at it as if he could see through the steel and iron, but he wasn’t Superman. He had no such powers to grant him the ability to see through walls or lift cars. He was ordinary. He’d been ordinary his entire life, even though he aspired to be something more than what his father once described as a “disappointment.”
Mueller stepped close enough to press his hand against the cool steel door, then shut his eyes, trying to think of any combination of numbers that would give away Thompson’s code to open the safe. But he could think of none.
Mueller knew he wasn’t wrong about his hunch. He knew it deep down in his soul. They were hiding something, but perhaps he was wrong about where it was hidden.
Mueller opened his eyes and removed his hand from the safe. He was about to turn away when he felt a buzz in his pocket. He almost didn’t notice it at first, thinking it was a strange muscle spasm, but when he saw the blue light glow radiating from his pocket, he thought he was hallucinating.
