CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  For the second time in a month, Cathy sat across from a man who saved her and Josh from uncertainty. Though the face had changed, the plight of mother and son had not—they had witnessed death and were hundreds of miles from home. She wanted this apocalyptic nightmare to end and several thoughts ran through her busy mind. The foremost being why they had survived the nuclear event in the first place. There was nothing special about her, and everything Josh had witnessed would surely rob him of innocence just as certainly as it would harden the man he would hopefully grow into.

  Jenny and John had not been wrong. Crazy Mike’s farm truly did resemble a compound, with barracks and lookout towers erected either before or after the nuclear event. Rows of greenhouses covered whatever he grew, and grazing animals enjoyed a long metal barn no doubt shielded in some way from radiation. Everything about the property screamed self-sufficiency.

  She gazed over the man’s shoulder and out the window, observing the men from the watchtowers.

  “You planned for all this?” she asked.

  “Not exactly. Well, I figured something would go down after I realized how quickly American values decayed under the last administration. Though I planned for anything, I’d hoped against this.”

  “What would you’ve preferred?”

  “Just the civil war without the fallout,” he said honestly.

  Cat shuddered at his words. “Is that what we’re in for?”

  Mike furrowed his brow as if considering. With a shrug he said, “Worse, I think. We haven’t even entered the warlord stage.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “After Rome fell, Europe descended into the Dark Ages. Have you not ever wondered why they were called that? It had nothing to do with the brightness of the sun, by the way.”

  “I’m not an idiot,” Cat snapped. “I’m in... was in... college. Nursing school, actually, but I’ve had plenty of World History.”

  “So you know why they were dark?”

  “Yeah, no history was recorded.”

  Mike chuckled. “Mostly, but not quite. History was written down in some places, but literature and higher studies lagged behind in the regions once dominated by the former empire. Everything in the west attacked and devoured itself, and warlords—kings if you prefer—popped up everywhere. England, France, and Spain were all distant dreams and the men who ruled had to be harder than the land itself. There wasn’t time for poems or polite conversations about gender equality. Whichever man dominated the resources held on to power.”

  “Always a man,” she chuckled bitterly, thinking of Clint. He would have thrived in a world full of killing and taking whatever he liked. Shaking free the awful image she asked, “So it was about resources? Like during colonialism? My professor talked about inequality and white supremacy.”

  “Honestly? You believed that nonsense? Damn, no wonder these college kids are so confused. Inequality existed for sure, but not in the way revisionists teach. It was only about the haves and haves not, more about class and overall society—the primary society and not the colony. It was always about progress, even if the progressives leave that off their twitter rants. Take my ranch, for one. Progressives said my cattle were bad for the environment, then taxed my meat so high they had a reason to blame me for raising prices to cover. That sounded good for society’s precious climate, but really only packed money into government slush funds and fueled their next campaigns.”

  “Left or right, they’re all corrupt. Self-serving bastards.”

  Max chuckled. “At least we agree on that.”

  “What’s next for us, then? For America?”

  “It’s gone, sweetheart, unless the warlord who rises gives up power to the people, but I believe kings will follow. And kings don’t easily let go of their property. It will be a long time before democracy returns, and none of us will own any property until it does.”

  “Is that what you wanted when you built this? You want to be King Crazy Mike?”

  “Donelson. I’m Mike Donelson, and no, I’ve no dreams of being a king. What I began as a plan to keep my family alive during a worst case scenario grew into this haven. It grew even more when I connected with like-minded others. I’ll support whichever warlord looks to have the best shot, then hope to serve that king as a land vassal.”

  “Lord Mike, then?”

  “That’s more like it.” His smile was honest. “That’s why I invited my boys and their families to live here on the farm. Strength lies in numbers.”

  “You invited John and Jenny. You even warned them of gangs in the area. Why?”

  “Because I like John and Jenny. Also, I knew about his cancer and wanted to ensure Jenny was provided for after he was gone.”

  “And you’re not married.”

  Another honest smile, this time with a slight blush. “No, I’m not. I lost Maggie to the Covid bullshit.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said honestly. Crazy or not, Mike seemed like a good man.

  “How many live here total?”

  “Me and my boys and their wives and children make ten. Shortly after the attack, Fred arrived with his own boys, so that’s thirteen. I’m hoping neighbors may seek refuge here, joining their land to ours once it can be farmed again. But that’s a-ways off, and we have to be careful not to expand past our resources. Right now our game is to protect what we’ve stockpiled.”

  “So why bring Josh and me?”

  “You were bonus. I didn’t know about you when I spoke with John, for some reason he kept you both a secret even from me. Regardless, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Why? So you can have a woman around?” She knew how to handle men like him; stripping teaches a woman how. With an edge of sarcasm, she added, “Are you that lonely, Crazy Mike Donelson? I’m half your age.”

  Mike laughed. “Not at all. But the presence of a pretty gal did put a lighter step in all the young men. Fred’s boys have washed their faces and combed their hair since you arrived.”

  The conversation was turning uncomfortable for Cat, suddenly realizing she may be forced into a relationship she didn’t want someday. Afraid he’d begin introducing her around right away, she changed the subject. “Tell me more about the Nature Boys? You mentioned them in the woods.”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  “Right-wing nutjob white supremacists.”

  “Isn’t all that the same?”

  “Not at all. Right or left doesn’t matter except in an economy, and I already said capitalism and communism are completely out the window. As far as being supremacists, not all nutjobs are.”

  Cat tried a joke. “Speaking from experience?”

  He laughed. “True, I seemed a nutjob to my neighbors, but it appears I’m as sane as Noah’s reasons for building his ark. No, the Nature Boys are a special breed of self-righteous pricks. They hate anyone who isn’t ivory white all the way to Adam and Eve, if such a thing’s possible—and they teach that it’s so. I caught wind they were in the area and tried to warn John, but he wanted to take his chances on his own.”

  “He said you warned him about gangs, not militant white supremacists.”

  “That was later, the last time we spoke when he was shoveling snow, and he said the same thing about them as he did the Nature Boys. He must have feared the gangs more to dust off his guns.”

  “When did you first see them?”

  “The day before I warned him, I’d seen some street gangs down from Evansville foraging up and down the river.”

  “I wonder why he feared the gangs more?”

  “Gangs are organized with a mindset toward criminal behavior and tend to destroy to incite fear. They care only about moving drugs and stolen goods to make money.”

  “What did John say about the Nature Boys being in the area?”

  “That he and Jenny weren’t hurting anybody and would offer food to whoever stopped by. Only, he never realized how sought after a commodity his stores would become during times like these. There’s only one thing more precious than food and water during a warlord period.”

  “What would that be?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  They sat awkwardly for a while, and Cathy pondered the possibilities. After a few unsavory thoughts she asked, “How many more gangs or groups are there?”

  “There’re more factions than I care to count right now, and each are vying for power. Take those Laotian drug cookers Fred killed today. They’ve been squaring off with the Mexican Cartels for ages, and their war wouldn’t have stayed between them for long. Then you’ve got the obvious Bloods and Crips in the cities, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. On their heels will be the anarchists reveling in the world’s destruction. Both Kentucky and Indiana also have militias who’re better fortified and supplied than all those—even me. Take the Regiment for instance, they’re based in Evansville and will come around soon asking for a tithe.”

  “Tithe?”

  “Call it tribute then, if that word’s less biblical.”

  “But you can’t pay off every group which comes around,” she realized. “What will you do?”

  “I’ve set a portion of my supply to the side, to appease those who’ll emerge as the new government. If we’re to be relegated to a fiefdom, I would like to be Lord Mike over my own land and pass it on to my boys. I want to get in good with the winner in the first round of the battle royale.”

  Cat’s head spun with every word he said. Fiefdom. Militia. Cartels. Battle royale. Each made her cringe. “John never mentioned the dangers.”

  “John’s a college educated idealist who hoped good sense would win out over human nature. He also believed USA would win out over all by appeasing everyone. That’s the way with diplomats. It’s okay to give away the fat of the land, but they’ve no idea what to do when the land becomes lean by their over-regulation.”

  “I thought you weren’t a right-wing nutjob,” Cat accused.

  “I’m not. I’m smack dab in the middle. I would’ve been a libertarian had any of them ever had a shot at winning, and I spent my life electing by the issues—for anyone who would protect my freedoms.”

  “You don’t sound so crazy now that...”

  “Now that the world’s ended as we know it?”

  “Yeah. You sound prepared, actually.”

  “That’s what I kept telling the missus before she died. She always thought I’d get whacked by the FBI or the ATF like David Koresh and those Branch Davidians in Waco. Each time she argued, I’d insist I wanted to be prepared and here I am, sitting on a cache of weapons, ammo, food, and the means to produce all of the above.”

  Shouts at the gate caused them both to turn, just in time to see Sam opening it for new arrivals. Standing for a better view, Cathy leaned close to the window. Fear gripped her stomach as a dozen or so armed men wearing military fatigues entered the compound.

  “Who are they?” she asked.

  “The Regiment, here for their tribute.” The sudden pressing of a pistol muzzle against Cat’s ribs said the rest. “Remember when I told you there’s a commodity worth more than food and water?”

  She nodded silently, scared to move and more afraid of his answer. She felt his hand go to her waistband, carefully sliding away Clint’s handgun.

  “It’s time for you to know what that is,” he said. “The Regiment is Indiana’s biggest and best organized militia, and I’ve already sold them my soul and also your flesh.”

  She felt the muzzle dig deeper as he pushed her along.

*****

  Mike’s sons zip-tied her hands but did not bother restraining Josh. He would go, they knew, with his mother. No one cared much about the boy if he didn’t. What’s another dead child during end-times? Cat sat on her knees in front of a different man. The Colonel, as Crazy Mike Donelson called him, watched with ruthless eyes that had certainly seen war. She couldn’t help but notice how deeply they were set, looking through her soul and tasting fear just as Clint had so many times before.

  A canvas bag landed on the ground beside her, audibly slapping the filthy snow. Her bag and Josh’s pack landed next, but her eyes remained on the first. These men could be bought, Mike had told her himself.

  “Colonel,” she pleaded but not in a panicked way, “perhaps a deal could be made.”

  The calm with which she spoke brought him amusement, no doubt at what she thought she could offer.

  “A deal? I think it’s simple enough. Mr. Donelson has offered you over to the Regiment, and I don’t see how you could buy your way out from that.”

  “I could if I prove his incompetence. He’s not loyal to the Regiment, or he’d have taken more time to inspect who he had in his custody, and what else I had to offer.”

  “Certainly there’s nothing more than the duties you’ll perform as an officer’s wife,” the Colonel replied. “Let’s be gone,” he commanded his men.

  Cathy continued as if unhearing. “In this bag is something far more valuable to this new world, something he would not have allowed me to leave with and of which you’d never have known. To you, all of you, food, water, and ammunition are the currency...”

  “And flesh,” Donelson added with a smirk. Every man laughed at his joke.

  “Open it,” she urged, “and take it as payment from me for freedom.”

  The Colonel paused, considered, then knelt beside the bag.

  Clint had carried it in his truck on the night he kidnapped her and Josh. It was so important, he brought it into the boat when he meant to drown her in the lake. She knew what lay inside, had examined the contents so closely, but with contempt over the man she’d once married rather than lusting for the riches it offered.

  The Colonel unzipped it slowly, curiously eyeing the contents within. “Well, Donelson,” he finally said with a sigh, “it seems you have been remiss in your hurry to pass her along. It appears you’ve overlooked a great treasure in deed.”

  Cathy smiled smugly, thinking of the stolen jewels and gold within. Of course, he may just take both her and the bag with its contents, but at least she would see the look on Crazy Mike’s face when he realized what he’d missed.

  “In fact,” the Colonel said, “a man can never get enough of ladies’ undergarments.” With a flourish he tossed several handfuls of the same, flinging them like confetti to his men’s delight. “I applaud your efforts to delay the process, young lady, but all you’ve done is piss me off.”

  She scurried over on her knees to get a better look. The gold and gems were gone, replaced by articles of women’s clothing, mostly likely once belonging to Mike’s deceased spouse.

  Donelson’s boot hit her squarely in the back, not enough to cause damage or slow her ability to travel, but enough to let her know he’d won. Crazy Mike had sold her out after robbing her blind. Hauled to her feet, the soldiers led her and Josh to the swollen river and the waiting boats. Cathy turned once for a final look at her betrayer.

  He merely smiled and waved.