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Howard had lost his home and was now living underground. Half the country was living in the Pre-Industrial Era without a working government. Major cities were crumbling to the ground. People would soon begin to kill each other over food and water. And worst of all, The Great Empire of Iran had won the war. President Sterling was always vocal about his opposition to meddling in foreign affairs. He was the poster boy for the Modern Isolationist Movement. He often quoted President George Washington’s farewell address to bolster public opinion for isolationism. Now that he was in office, it would no doubt be high on his priority list.

Hal interrupted his creator’s depressing musings. “Sir, you need to come back to the command center. President Sterling is having a conversation that you need to hear.”

“I assume you have the ability to record it for playback?”

“Yes, sir. The White House A.I. was able to repair some of the damage to the surveillance system.”

“I’m on my way, Old Man. By the way, Hal, I need you to do something for me.”

“Of course, sir, anything.”

“Malcolm never gave his digital assistant a name. It’s time we changed that, and I’d like you to do the honors.”

“Thank you, sir, I would be happy to give my sister a name.”

“I thought you might.” The spherical screen came to life, displaying the inside of Howard’s library. There, the president gathered with Carl Moody, Roberto Jimenez, and James Weygandt.

“How soon can we make the broadcast?” asked President Sterling.

“Tomorrow or the day after,” answered General Weygandt.

“How many people can we expect will hear it?” asked the president.

General Weygandt replied, “The West Coast and the Rockies were not affected by The Pulse, so they’re not really an issue. We’re setting up loud speakers in every state capital and every major city. We’ll broadcast it over AM and FM for all the people who had emergency radios shielded against EMPs. The news will then spread like wildfire by word of mouth.”

“Outstanding! If you gentlemen will excuse me, I have to write my own Inaugural Address. Oh, wait, that reminds me. Did we get in touch with any of the other Supreme Court justices? Associate Justice Boyd is a bumbling fool. He’ll step all over his own words and ruin the occasion.”

Director Jimenez turned his wheelchair around to face the president. “Mr. President, he’s the only one we’ve been able to locate. I have my men working around the clock to find the Chief Justice; I’m confident they’ll find him.”

Sterling laughed. “Well, whomever we find, it will be the last act of the Supreme Court, strictly for show. They’ll no longer have a purpose. Thank you, Roberto. Gentlemen, that will be all. Thank you.”

The three men extended the proper formalities to the president as they left the room. Howard thought that was the end of the playback but found the image following the three men as they walked down the hallway towards the kitchen. Work crews had already done an impressive job repairing the damage left by the missile.

Roberto Jimenez looked up at Carl Moody. “What’s the status of our forces in the Iranian Theater?”

“Our troops are retreating back to Gibraltar. All of our ships will rendezvous with the
James Russell
sometime tomorrow and withdraw back to the East Coast to close our borders.”

Roberto stopped his wheelchair for dramatic effect. The two men had no choice but to pause and give him their full attention. “So you mean to tell me that you’re going to gather the bulk of our military in one central location? You ever think that maybe the Empire will use that opportunity to strike?”

General Weygandt exchanged a smirk with the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. “Roberto, we’re not going to create a traffic jam at Gibraltar. Our ships won’t be bumper to bumper like it’s rush hour; they’ll be spread out from the Port of Gibraltar over hundreds of miles. The Empire isn’t going to think we’re priming for attack. They’ll get the message plain and clear that we’re retreating.”

Roberto hated to be upstaged by the military. “I’d be more worried about the European Army shoving a nuke up our ass for stabbing them in the back and leaving them behind. By the end of the year the Empire will be walking the streets of Paris and London.”

Carl Moody was a closet member of the Modern Isolationist Movement. It was the entire reason he was behind Simon Sterling. He couldn’t very well be the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and publicly advocate isolationism when his nation was trying to rid the world of the most horrific force since the Nazis. He’d had many long talks with Simon in the past year and agreed with him that the United States needed to worry about the United States and nothing else. He laughed at Roberto’s taunt. “Who gives a shit? They can have Europe. It’s time we stopped playing babysitter to the rest of the world and take care of our own backyard. We’ve managed to bankrupt our country and turn our kids into idiots at the expense of saving the world. Well, we can’t save the world, but we can save ourselves.”

Roberto laughed at the Chairman. “Save it, Carl. You’re preaching to the choir.”

The playback stopped, and the image faded away.  Howard's mind was racing with mixed emotions.  Malcolm was so close to ending the war, and these men pissed it all away in the span of a day.  He didn't disagree that the United States had plenty of its own problems to deal with and could use its resources to rebuild its own broken homeland, but it wouldn't mean a thing if the Great Empire of Iran conquered the world.  Once they absorbed the vast resources of Europe, Iran would be coming across the Atlantic to invade America.  Their army would be unstoppable.  China had been content to sit on the sidelines and do nothing to stop them.  The Empire had been smart enough to leave the Chinese alone.  China might be motivated to wake up and do something if America fell to the Empire.  

"Sir, a large number of vehicles are headed towards Beck Castle."

“The military?”

“No, sir, civilians.”

The screen showed twenty-three vehicles driving in the direction of Beck Castle. They weren’t exactly on a direct course to the Castle, but they were heading in the general direction.

“Well, it's to be expected.  I'm sure a lot of people are evacuating the major cities and heading north to Wyoming and Montana to get away from all this madness.  How far away are they?”

"Just over three miles, sir."

"That's odd. They're off road?"

"They are indeed, sir."

Howard watched the convoy drive carefully across the terrain.  Not all the vehicles were suited for leaving the pavement, driving slowly around ditches and rocks. 

"Sir, they will be able to see Meredith's garden if they stay on the same heading."

"I don't really care.  They could build a town up there and would never be able to get down here.  Hell, they could dig a tunnel down to us, and it wouldn't make the slightest difference."

"Sir, we do have the means to take them in and provide them shelter.  They would only take up a fraction of the dormitory wing."

"Slow down, Old Man, let's not get ahead of ourselves.  I'm not going to open my door to strangers. God only knows what they would do down here."

"Yes, sir."

Howard watched the convoy close the distance to Meredith's garden.  The lead vehicle stopped a few yards shy, and the driver got out.  A man in his mid-thirties closed his truck door and walked over to the garden.  He didn’t seem surprised by it in any way, as if a beautiful oasis in the middle of the rocky terrain was perfectly normal.  He knelt by Meredith’s tombstone, gently placing his hand on it.

"Sir, I assume you know who that is?" asked Hal.

"Yes, Old Man, it's my son, and he brought a bunch of strangers to the front door."

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Richard Dupree and Billy Bratchett were driving north along Interstate 25, approaching Fort Collins. The iPad belonging to Richard's ex-wife, Monique, was propped up on the dashboard, resting on the dials of the air-conditioning controls.  His children were currently in the care of Monique's boyfriend, who was in his parent's RV.  With the picture of the RV locked onto the screen of the iPad, both Richard and Billy were scanning everything in their line of sight trying to find it.  They were having a hard time of it with the number of RVs on the road.  People were fleeing the cities in droves. Much like the firearms market, The Second Great Depression didn’t hinder the recreational vehicle market; if anything, it only increased demand.  Many people had downsized to RVs or were forced into them after the government foreclosed on their homes.  As a result, RV-Towns sprang up along the interstates. Richard and Billy had stopped at several rest areas along the interstate to search among the dozens of RVs for the one with the telltale American flag and contrasting black quarter panel.  Richard had to beg Tank to stay in the truck while he talked with the people in the rest stop.  Tank knew he would terrify people with his demon eye and the dozens of tattoos decorating his skin. 

Richard knew how to talk to people and had no trouble striking up a conversation with strangers.  The story was the same with everyone - it was time to get the hell out of Dodge and find a safe place to live.   

Richard made up a story of trying to reunite with his brother.  Many people were in a similar situation trying to find their loved ones, so it wasn't difficult for Richard to blend in with them.  Richard felt that the search was getting nowhere but didn’t give up hope.  At the next rest stop, he found a large group of people gathered around a fire. A hunting party had killed some wildlife and returned with enough game to feed the crowd. Richard described the RV to the group.

"I'm looking for my brother and his family. We got separated in Denver, and I'm trying to catch up with them.  We're both headed up to Yellowstone, and I'm wondering if any of you saw his RV."

A thin, gaunt woman who desperately needed the meal she was about to eat spoke up. "Wait a minute. Old tan colored RV with an American flag on the driver's side?"

"Yes, ma'am, have you seen it?  The panel above the back tire is black and sticks out like a sore thumb."

"Yeah, sure.  They were here this morning; I think they left about an hour ago."

"Thank you so much.  You've been a big help."

The thin woman smiled. "I hope you find your brother.  Don't suppose you have time to stay and eat?  We'd love to have you."

"Ma'am, I appreciate it very much, but I better get going if I'm gonna catch up with him.  You folks have a good day."

Richard ran back to the truck and climbed in. "We're getting close! They left here an hour ago."

"Great news, brother. What're you gonna do to the asshole that's got your kids?"

"Don't know. As long as doesn't try to stop me we won't have a problem."

"Trouble has a way of finding you, Richard."

"Don't I know it."

Richard pulled back onto the interstate and decided that he needed to close the distance. He stuck to the feeder road and was able to get the truck up to sixty miles an hour.  Twenty minutes later, the feeder road congested, so Richard drove onto the shoulder and pulled into the grass.  He was able to maintain fifty miles per hour in the grass.  Trading the Honda for this four-wheel drive pickup was an excellent decision.

Richard soon found out why the traffic was coming to a standstill.  An RV-Town was in front of them, and for some reason everyone was exiting into it.  Richard had a good feeling that he would find the RV he was looking for there and took the exit.  A very large crowd was gathering around one particular RV. A man was standing on its roof and appeared to be some sort of religious nut spouting end of the world prophecies.  He chuckled to himself. If the man was reciting the Book of Revelation, he probably wasn't too far off the mark. 

"Billy, I appreciate you staying in the truck as many times as you did.  It means a lot to me that you understand. I'm certain my kids are here somewhere.  You wanna get out and try to make friends, I won't stop you."

"Fuck you mean 'try'?  I'm one charming mother fucker!"  Tank laughed.

Richard smiled and got out of the truck.  He wanted to get closer to the man atop his RV to hear what he was saying.  He quietly pushed his way into the crowd to get closer to the show. 

"Just listen to me!  I know what I'm saying sounds completely insane!  All I'm saying to you folks is - what do you have to lose?  If I'm full of shit, all you have to do is go your own way - no harm, no foul."

"If I drive all the way out there for nothing and waste my gas, you and I are gonna have a problem!" yelled a man towards the front.  The crowd agreed with him.

"If you’re worried about your gas, then don't come!"  The man on the RV was in his early twenties, thin with long, curly blonde hair.  "My cousin knows exactly what he's talking about!  He already has a large group of people out there!  When my dad comes back he's gonna take another group with him!  It’s your choice if you wanna come along!"

An older man in his sixties spoke up. "This place you're talking about sounds like some science fiction fantasy land!  How come we never heard of it?"

"Because my uncle is Howard Beck!  He built the place years ago and kept it a secret!  It's massive and can hold all of us for years!"

Most of the crowd started laughing. Some began to walk away.  The same observer spoke again. "Howard Beck?  The crazy computer guy?  He's lived alone for years, and no one has laid eyes on the man.  If he really is in this bunker he won't let any of us inside!  Stop wasting our time!"  About half the crowd walked away in frustration.

The young man atop the RV pleaded with them. “He’s going to let us in!  I promise you!  It's the only reason he built the place!  He's known for years that the world was going to end!  Don't waste this chance!  You have no idea what you're passing up!"

The young man's proclamation managed to turn a few people around.  Realizing that he wasn't going to convince any others, he gave his final plea. "Just be patient and wait here.  My dad will be back soon to take another group of you out."  The young man climbed down from the roof and quickly went inside his RV.

Richard turned to Tank. “Billy, I'm gonna stay here and try to talk to this kid. Do me a favor; walk around and see if you can find the RV we're looking for."

"You got it."

"And Billy?"

"Yeah?"

"Be nice.  Try not to start any trouble."

Tank smiled. “I already told you, Killer, trouble finds you, not me."

As Tank headed into the RV-Town, Richard walked to the young man’s vehicle and knocked on the door. 

"Hey man, I'll tell you the same thing I told these people.  I've never been inside the place, so I really can't answer a lot of questions."

Richard smiled and turned on the charm. “Not what I was going to ask.  Don't worry, I'm not trying to run a scam or hustle you. Just want a few minutes of your time.  It's really important, please."

"What's this about?"

"I think someone in that first group has my kids.  Please, let me inside, and I'll tell you all about it.  I really need your help."

The young man paused warily for a few seconds before unlocking the door. "Sure, come on inside.  Don't try anything stupid, cuz I got a Glock 19 holstered under my jacket."

Richard smiled, raising his hands in surrender. "I promise you, nothing stupid.  I'm an unarmed man looking for his kids." 

"Please, sit down," the young man said, motioning towards the kitchen table.

"Thank you. My name is Richard."

"Jamison."

"Jamison, it’s a pleasure to meet you.  I'll get right to the point.  My junkie ex-wife let her boyfriend take my kids away in his parents' RV.  I want them back."

"That's terrible, man.  I'm glad to help. What do you need to know?"

Richard described the RV to him, and the young man leaned back in his chair, deep in thought.  "Yes, I remember it, kinda hard to miss.  Those folks seemed nice enough.  Older couple and their son."

"You see my kids?"

"I do remember a boy, early teens.  He was following your ex-wife's boyfriend around like a puppy."

"What about my girl?  She's nine."

"Don't recall a little girl.  She might have been inside the RV with the old couple."

"You're probably right.  How long before your father gets back?  I need to get out there as quick as possible."

"Well, the place is about an hour away; no roads lead out to it.  He's probably just getting there, so depending on how long he stays, it’ll take an hour for him to get back."

"Do you know the way?  Can I drive out there myself?"

"You can try, but you're liable to get lost.  I've been there one time myself."

"Depending on how good your directions are, I think I can manage."

"Suit yourself.  Hold on. Let me get pencil and paper to draw you a map."

"Fantastic.  I really appreciate it."

Jamison drew a very impressive map and talked Richard through it.  Richard was impressed with the detail the kid was able to recall having only been to the place once.  He thanked the young man and shook his hand.

"I hope you find them. Good luck."

"Thank you. If we ever meet again, just know that you've made a friend."  Richard exited the RV and made his way back to the truck, motioning for Tank to come back.

"Sorry, Richard, no luck.  The RV isn't here."

"It's all good; I know exactly where they are.  Time to get moving."

As the two drove away, Richard grew more and more confident that the map was solid; every marker and checkpoint on the map matched up exactly with the terrain.  Just shy of an hour into the trip, they saw about two dozen vehicles parked in a central location.

"That's it.” A few minutes later they were close enough to see the details of the vehicles.  Parked in the middle of the group was an older, tan colored RV with an American flag spray-painted on the driver's side and a black quarter panel above the rear driver's side tire.   "There it is!" yelled Richard as he raced over to the beaten down RV and began banging on the door.

An older woman opened the door and silently surveyed the two men standing in front of her.

"Ma'am, my name is Richard Dupree.  I'm Timothy and Christina’s father.  I'm here to take them with me."

Tank walked a few steps away to give Richard some privacy.  The woman gave Richard a harsh look. “I think you must be confused.  Their father died years ago.  I'm hoping my son will marry their mother. I love those kids so much; they already call me Grandma."

Richard was shocked but didn't let it show. “Ma'am, I assure you that I am their father and I'm obviously not dead."

"Monique's ex-husband was a convicted murderer and was executed for his crimes.  If you’re their father, and I know you most certainly are not, it's probably best that those children stay with us."  The old woman shot a disapproving glare at Tank and looked back at Richard.   Tank was not the type of guy you would bring to a child custody hearing as a character witness.

"Ma'am, I hate to tell you but everything you’ve been told about me is a lie.  I'm not surprised my ex-wife made up some stories about me to tell the kids. It's painful for me to say that my daughter has no idea who I am. She was only two years old the last time she saw me.  I'm sure my son will remember me. He can tell you I’m his father."

"Monique wouldn’t lie to me. I love that girl and trust her more than some stranger I just met."

"Ma'am, why isn't Monique with you right now?  Where do you think she is this very moment?"

"Monique is a nurse.  She had to stay behind at the hospital and care for those poor people.  Chad said she was one of the few people who stayed behind at the hospital when everyone else left those poor sick people to die.  Once my husband and I are safe with the kids, he's gonna go back and get her."

None of this surprised Richard in the least, he even had to stop himself from laughing.  He’d learned the hard way that Monique's talent for lying bordered on sociopathic.  She could manipulate anyone into believing anything she told them.  This poor woman was no exception.

"Ma'am, where can I find Chad?"

"He's over with the rest of the group. He and my husband wanted me to stay with the RV."

"Thank you, ma'am, I'm very sorry for bothering you."

The old woman looked at Richard in disgust and slammed the door behind her.

Tank walked back over to Richard. "See what I mean?  You and trouble are old friends."

Richard didn't reply. He scanned the crowd and tried to figure out his next move.  He knew he wouldn't have any problem picking Chad or his father out of the crowd; he had memorized their faces from the pictures in Monique's iPad and had asked Tank to do the same while they were in the truck.

"Do you see them?" asked Tank.