Resistance: The Gathering Storm

They served to remind Susan that this Nathan was very different from the one who had gone off to join the Army. This Nathan was probably an enemy, rather than a patriot, gone over to the Chimera.

Even if he hadn’t, he was a traitor. Because, generally speaking, those who backed the Grace administration and its efforts to rob American citizens of their freedoms were little better than stinks, insofar as Susan was concerned.

* * *

Hale tried to move his arms, discovered that he couldn’t, and blinked his eyes in order to get the water out of them. Then, his expression changing not at all, he looked from face to face.

“So,” he croaked. “You’re probably wondering why I called this meeting.”

Puzo had an old buggy whip that looked as if it had been salvaged from the barn, and was preparing to strike when Munger raised a hand. The DI frowned, as if disappointed, but lowered the whip. Hale knew the good-cop bad-cop routine when he saw it and waited to see what Munger would say. “You lied,” Munger stated flatly. “About your name, your background, and your reason for coming here. Now you’re going to tell the truth… Or Mr. Puzo will beat it out of you.”

Except for his desire to find the Walkers, the rest of the story was pretty damned obvious. So there wasn’t much to be gained by denying who he was, and Hale figured that if he played the situation correctly, he might be able to further his mission.

“Sure,” Hale said hoarsely, as he stared into Susan’s eyes. “What would you like to know?”

“What organization do you belong to?” Munger demanded.

“The Rangers,” Hale replied, which though not technically true, was close enough for government work. SRPA was still classified as top secret even though an increasing number of people were becoming aware of it.

“Good,” Munger said grimly. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Why did you come here? To spy on us?”

“No,” Hale replied matter-of-factly. “We know just about everything there is to know about this facility. So, why bother?”

“This is bullshit,” Puzo complained bitterly. “He’s jacking us around. Let me work on him for a while. He’ll be calling for his mommy within fifteen minutes.”

“His mother is dead,” Susan put in bleakly. “She died defending her home with a twelve-gauge shotgun. I figure she killed ten, maybe twelve stinks before a Steelhead took her down, and I shot it with Pa’s Colt Peace keeper. Let him talk.”

Hale was impressed both by the steel in Susan’s voice and the way Puzo immediately backed down. As if her authority was superior to his.

“I came looking for Henry Walker,” Hale explained, “and his wife, Myra. Are they here?”

Suddenly the interrogation flip-flopped and Hale was the one checking expressions. Munger looked surprised, Susan appeared to be intrigued, and Puzo was taken aback. “Henry Walker? Who the hell is he?”

“He was the Secretary of War,” Hale replied. “A man who, according to authorities, fled his responsibilities in Washington, and wants to engage in negotiations with the Chimera. Something that Freedom First would almost certainly object to.”

“You’re kidding,” Munger said.

“No, I’m not,” Hale replied. “The Walkers were headed for Chicago. The government tracked Walker and his wife as far as Indianapolis, but lost them after that. I was part of a team that went into Chicago looking for them. We came up empty, so I was sent here on the off chance that they made it this far.”

“Chicago?” Puzo demanded incredulously. “That’s bullshit… Nobody goes into Chicago except for our people.”

“You have a radio,” Hale countered. “Call Jacoby, ask him if we were there, and who we were looking for.”

Munger, Susan, and Puzo looked at one another.

“Okay,” Munger agreed, “I will. And you’d better be on the up-and-up.”

“Terrific,” Hale replied. “In the meantime, I could use an ice pack, a handful of aspirin, and something to piss in.”

In spite of the fact that the sun had parted company with the eastern horizon some three hours earlier, and was still rising across a bright blue sky, it was cold and crisp as Hale and his sister, Susan, followed a game trail toward a big pile of weathered boulders half a mile ahead. It felt good to walk together as their boots broke through the crusty snow and made squeaky crunching sounds. It could have been years earlier, when both of them were still living on the family ranch, and blissfully unaware of the terrible threat brewing in a remote part of Russia.

After radioing Jacoby in Chicago, Munger had been able to verify Hale’s story, even if Jacoby claimed the team was part of some super-secret intelligence group, while Hale continued to insist that he was a Ranger. And while none were too pleased about the manner in which Hale had infiltrated the training camp, they had decided to release the spy, rather than run the risk that the government would raid the compound looking for the Walkers. And their agent.

But Hale was supposed to leave the compound by noon, which left very little time to spend with Susan. “So you went back to the ranch,” she said, as the two of them descended into a gully and scrambled up the other side.

“Yes,” Hale replied. “I went back. I saw your message on the wall and the grave out back. That must have been very difficult.”

“It was,” Susan admitted. “After battling the stinks for the better part of a day, and seeing everyone else die, it felt strange to be alive. Strange and wrong, somehow.”

“I know what you mean,” Hale replied soberly. “I had the same feeling after everyone in my outfit was killed in England.”

Susan glanced at her brother as they followed the path past an old tumbledown line shack. “You’re not in the Army anymore, are you, Nathan? You belong to something else. Something no one is willing to talk about.”

“Everything has changed,” Hale answered evasively. “Including my sister. You were pretty close to being apolitical when I left home. Now you belong to Freedom First. Why?”

Susan took note of the way the question had been turned back on her and knew she was correct about her brother’s job. “Making my way south from the ranch was difficult—as you know, having done it yourself. But after two weeks of playing hide-and-seek with the stinks, I finally made it. So with nothing more than empty pockets, and a couple of guns, I sought shelter at one of the Protection Camps.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” she continued, “but it wasn’t. The moment I entered the camp I lost all of my rights and liberties, because that’s how the Grace administration wants it. As long as there’s something they can point at as an external threat, they can justify the suspension of civil liberties and stay in power.

“Except now, with the Chimera on American soil, they’ve let things slip too far. Because there’s a very good chance that the stinks will win. Walker’s decision to leave the administration and join us is a good indication of how bad things are.”

Hale thought about the man named Dentweiler, and wondered if he was typical of the people who surrounded the President. Listening to Susan made it seem all too possible.

They arrived at the pile of snow-capped boulders, and chose to rest on the east side of the formation, where they could sit in the sun. Hale scraped the snow off of a flat-topped rock and both of them sat down. “I don’t know, Susan, maybe you’re right. Maybe it is late in the game. But we can’t give up. We’ve got to fight back.”

“And we are,” Susan responded, as she placed a gloved hand over his. “Each in our own way. I know you’re part of the effort, even if you can’t say how, and I am as well. There’s a place for Freedom First in all of this, Nathan. Someone has to push back against Grace and his cronies—and someone has to fight the stinks in places like Chicago.”

Nathan took Susan’s hand and looked into her eyes. “So, you won’t go back with me?”

Susan shook her head. “No, Nathan… I can’t.”

Hale was silent for a moment. He nodded as he released her hand. “I understand. We were both taught to stand up for what we believe in.”

“Yes,” Susan agreed. “We were.”