Days Since...: Thomas: Day 758

Chapter One

“Mr. Tom?” A young boy’s voice. Thomas could feel a tugging at his arm, but not hard enough to bring him from his dream. “You got to wake up.”

“I can’t believe you did it.”

“Why?”

“It just isn’t you. Going to basic training, getting yelled at for nothing. I don’t know—it just isn’t you.”

“Have to pay for college somehow.”

“I’m surprised your dad didn’t kill you for doing it.”

“We looked at everything, and this was it.”

“So for sure it’s happening? The gentle giant’s going to war?”

“No one calls me that anymore.”

“I’m kidding you, Tommy.”

“They don’t call me that either.”

“Lot’s changed, I see. You’re not that guy in the street with the picket sign anymore, huh, soldier?”

“Nope. I realized that’s not ever going to be enough. We weren’t saving anyone.”

“What is it you think you’re gonna do?”

“Something real, maybe some real damn change for once.”

“They brainwashed you good, huh?”

“It’s not like that. After seeing the pictures of their people—the kids, I know this is the right thing. The shit in Syria’s been going on way too long. Everyday those people are being slaughtered over there. Their own people, man. Those protest signs aren’t saving shit.”

“I don’t know…”

“I do.”

“Come on, you’re in the Reserves. How much action you think you’ll really see? How much do you think you’re gonna change?”

“More than you will.”

“At what price, though?”

“Mr. Tom? Mr. Tom, wake up!”

“But in all seriousness, man, I’m not trying to give you too much shit. I don’t want our last conversation to be—

“Last conversation?”

“Not like that, I just… I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Yeah, someone has to do it. This war isn’t going to be won from over here. That just isn’t going to happen.”

“But it doesn’t have to be you.”

“They told me I have to go, so yeah, it does have to be me.”

“What about your dad?”

“He’ll be here when I get back whether he agrees with my choice or not.”

“Don’t get yourself killed out there.”

“Yeah… got ya.”

“Don’t try and be the hero. Just do your job and get home.”

“Mr. Tom? It’s time.”

Thomas rolled onto his side and gradually opened his eyes. A round, smiling face, unblemished and innocent, came into focus. “Hey, big man.” Thomas’s voice was raspy from just waking up.

“I’m not very big.”

“Sure you are.” Thomas lifted the frail boy from the floor and set him into bed next to him. He scooted himself over to make room, and the two of them lay there next to one another staring at the ceiling. Thomas brushed a few stray hairs from the boy’s face—the rest of his dark hair swirled from restless sleep. Last night’s storm must have kept him tossing in bed. “What do you see this morning?”

“The dinosaur.”

“This same one again?” Thomas purposely pointed in the wrong direction.

“No, here.” The boy tugged on Thomas’s arm, trying to redirect him. “It’s a T-Rex, see!” The boy traced the shoddy patchwork of the plaster ceiling that had become discolored and started to show signs of another leak.

“I don’t know how much longer he’s going to make it. Looks like I’ll have to try and patch it up again.”

“But I like that one.” The boy finished his tracing with one final swoop of his index finger. “He’s big.”

“I know he is, buddy, but that’s the problem. We don’t want water getting in here, do we?”

“No.” He fell silent for a moment. “Could you make some more dinosaurs for us?”

Thomas smiled. “I’ll see what I can do, but no promises.”

“I know.” The boy rolled onto his side. “Am I still seven today?”

“Yeah, buddy. You’re still seven today.”

“When am I eight?” His voice a mixture of curiosity and concern. He began nervously fiddling his fingers together and chewing his lip.

“You still have some time before you’re eight.”

“And then I have to start doing the army stuff?”

“Something like that.” Thomas took the boy’s hands into his own to interrupt his anxiety. “But you don’t have to worry about that stuff yet. You still get to help in the fields for now.”

“But when? What if I have to move to the Capital?”

“Lower Price Hill Fortress is our home. We aren’t going anywhere. And don’t worry about the army stuff right now. I’ll let you know when it gets close.”

The boy nodded. “But—” Thomas lightly pinched his cheeks together, interrupting his words.

“Let’s get ready, Joseph. That first bell’s going to be chiming soon.”

“They already did two sets.”

“Shit!” Thomas popped the covers off them and took Joseph from the bed.

Joseph looked at him with wide, brown eyes. “You said a bad word.”

“Sorry.”

The apology must have sounded insincere in the haste of gathering his things. He snatched his black uniform from the closet and forced it on, followed by his boots. A silver semi-automatic pistol dropped into his leg holster. Thomas looked over his shoulder—Joseph simply stared at this rushed spectacle. “You’ll have to go to Kate’s this morning.” He took his watch, dog tags, and U.S. Army Zippo lighter from a bowl sitting on a small dresser. Joseph was almost knocked over as Thomas went to leave. “You hear me!?”

“Yes.” Joseph slumped to the floor, his arms gathering both knees into his chest.

“I know I say this a lot, but”—he struggled to work the watch onto his wrist—“you have to stop calling me Mr. Tom.”

“Why?”

Thomas knelt down in front of him and tried to clear his frustration before lecturing the boy. “You know why…”

Joseph buried his chin into an armpit to avoid eye contact with Thomas.

“I don’t want them to take you from me. Hey…” He gently took the boy’s chin and aligned their eyes before continuing, “I promised your parents I’d care for you. You have to remember, buddy, I’m Tommy… Only to you, I’m Tommy or Big Brother.”

Joseph smiled, and Thomas, running increasingly late with each word, kissed his forehead, bolted for the apartment door, and grabbed his rucksack on the way out. “Be good for Kate!”

Rushing through the cool shadows of the street, Thomas maintained the thumping of his boots against the damp pavement. The brick row houses lined the sidewalk—the sidewalk lined the street, not an inch of grass between any of it. Red and brown bricks as far as the eye could see.

A group of young elementary-aged boys dressed in old, school uniforms stood in military formation within a small pocket park boxed in by the concrete and brick. An older boy stood at the front, barking orders, running them through various facing movements. One of the kids called out to Thomas, but was swiftly rebuked by the young man in charge of morning drills.

“On your faces!” The children dropped into the push-up position. “Down! … Up! One! Down! … Up! Two! Down!” The counting faded as Thomas rushed away.

Although he had wanted to stop and offer some words of encouragement, time’s hurried march toward the hour wouldn’t allow it. They’ll learn soon enough. Shit, maybe I’ll learn. He knew this couldn’t be the best impression. His black uniform exhibited too little wear for mistakes like these. If he were to earn the promotion he’d worked so hard to obtain, then today became the tipping point. Push yourself. Only one more block. You can’t be late again.

He broke the corner, his momentum tailing him off the sidewalk and into the street, giving him an unhindered line to the command post. So close. Half a block. His eyes steadied on the flagpole atop the repurposed Oyler School that bore the Second Alliance’s banner. The sun and moon split by a broadsword flapped triumphantly in the wind, towering above the yellowed, cream-colored limestone—above the red bricks occupying spaces where the limestone ceased.

As he neared, Thomas remembered the dream his neighbor had told him about several weeks ago. A dream where the stone angels that gripped the corners of the school would animate their wings and lift it from this plagued world, placing it upon a more proper timeline. The timeline where man powered machine and in return was empowered by machine. A time when the world held enough men to power such a concept. We’ve come a long way, but still… No matter how far we come. What I wouldn’t give to go back to how it used to be.

His fist banged against the thick metal door. He paced the top of the stairs while waiting, running his thumbs along the inside of the rucksack’s straps. “Come on! Come on!” His fist banged against the door once again. More pacing then finally he heard a creak. A helping hand rotated the lock and pushed the entrance clear. “Thank you!” Exasperated, Thomas tore through the second set of doors. His outburst met with a dirty look from the receptionist that had been shaken from her work.

“Sir!” Her plea echoed through the grand vestibule, but went unheeded.

Two steps by two steps, Thomas bounded up a large staircase that curled around on itself, climbing the four stories toward the vaulted ceiling. He checked his watch the moment he hit the landing. Two minutes. So close! His stride grew into a full sprint through the hall. “Make a hole!” He shouted. The few people ambling toward him scattered to make way. One woman dropped a short stack of papers to the floor—a few pens clacked against the linoleum. The lockers on either side became a blur. Two more classrooms and his sprint started to unwind, his boots pounding to a stop in front of room 410. He paused briefly to compose himself, straightening his uniform before entering. He took a deep breath.

All eyes locked onto Thomas as he entered. It felt stuffy—the room swollen with the egos of ambitious men. He could feel the judgment of previous tardiness, but today it was misplaced. Thank, God. I made it. He exhaled his pent-up anxiety—all the worry of not making it—and couldn’t help but let a childish grin creep onto his face. A bullet had certainly been dodged. And although he had been seen running like a lunatic down the hall, at least they knew he wasn’t late. Always live another day.

He set his ruck on the floor, lining it up with the others against the wall and took a small notepad and pencil from a side pocket. A single seat sat open in the back. He maneuvered past the other Guards in the room, sidestepping boots and knees obstructing his way. He went to sit, but before he could…

“Atten-tion!”

Thomas spun around and snapped into position. The rest of the men followed suit, becoming stiff and upright. Their faces forward. Their hands cupped along the outer seam of their pants. Their heels clicked together. An automatic response to the word. It was as if they would all begin breathing in unison, eerily robotic, waiting for their next command.

“As you were!” The captain stepped through the jamb and centered himself at the podium in the front of the classroom—a trail of subordinates followed.

Captain Abel stood above the tallest of those he commanded. He was bald with a mustache. His shoulders and chest much wider than the podium itself. His brown, deep-set eyes moved carefully over the men that sat before him wondering why they had been summoned. “Anyone have anything before I get started?” With his rank, the question was undeniably asked for the appearance of being courteous.

“No, Sir!” A uniformed response. Not a single person uttered a word beyond that—everyone inched back into their seat eager for instruction.

This must be a damn big deal. Captain Abel rarely made the trek from the Capital. Typically, he limited his presence within L.P.H. Fortress to hand-written directives passed on by lowly clerks.

He gathered the reports from the podium and shuffled through them while whispering to his lieutenant. There were several agreeable nods between them—some items worth noting with a touch of his finger against the pages, but once he finished, Captain Abel patted him on the back, signaling that their conversation had ended. He tapped the stack of reports along its bottom to even it, laid it down, and then ran his hands along the sides of the podium. “You there, young man.”

“Yes, sir.” A young boy stepped forward and snapped to attention. From where Thomas sat, he could see the kid shaking, his clenched fists quivering alongside his legs. Thomas caught a glimpse of the red ‘O’ sewn into the cuff of his uniform sleeve—an orphan left by the Almawt virus to fend for himself in this world.

“Hang the mid-north sector.”

“Yes, sir.” He thrust himself forward, seemingly relieved by the task, eager for anything to take him from the spotlight that had been cast upon him. He sorted through a collection of large maps on the tables just underneath the windows.

Thomas watched while he struggled through the stack. That kid has a decent job. I’m sure Joseph could handle something like that. An administrative job would suit him well. Eventually, the boy found the one he needed and hung it in position.

“Good work, son. Now, be a good lad and grab me some water.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy scampered off down the hall.

“Okay,”—Captain Abel exhaled—“what I’m about to share could be considered sensitive, so I don’t want any of this leaving the room.”

One of his subordinates took the hint and closed the door.

“I try to operate with transparency. I like my Guards to know what’s going on in our world… Just curious, who knows why I brought you here?”

Faces met with one another as everyone looked around the room, but no one seemed to hold the answer.

“Just me? Alright, well at least we’ve managed to keep this out of the rumor mill— it’s about damn time if you ask me.”

The entirety of the room politely chuckled then once again fell into an attentive silence.

“Well then, I guess we’ll get down to business. No reason to keep you sitting here in suspense.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “It’s been nearly two months since the Butcher declined our offer and slipped away. Unfortunately, with his group’s nomadic nature, we lost track of them for a bit, originally thinking that he moved his operation closer to their headquarters up north. But, we eventually found out that was incorrect. Regardless, we knew the day would come when he’d turn up again in our operational area. The good news is a scout’s report came in late last night stating that the Butcher set up shop in Burnet Woods.”

Several men shifted in their seats. Collectively, everyone knew what this meant.

Here we go!

“Now, we all know we can’t let him continue with this operation. Negotiations failed, so there’s going to be a much different approach. A quick response with very few words, if any. The reason being that once news spreads that he’s back… people will be flocking to him. It’s a certainty. We’ve already seen it happen.” He scratched his chin, taking a few seconds with his thoughts. “My only concern is that we don’t have an accurate timeframe on how long he’s been active there. He could be packing up as we speak.

“But despite this reality, we will press on treating it as if he had just arrived. The importance of ending his operation is twofold. First off, the damn guy’s a madman, and we can’t have him running loose in the region. We gave him the chance to turn over the women and to never come back. Obviously, he chose to ignore that offer. If his way of life begins to flourish, it’s going to make things harder on our efforts. We can’t have him recruiting people.

“The second thing is that we can’t afford to waste— Come on.” Captain Abel gestured to the boy peeking through the window in the door. He waved him in and took the mug of water, taking a quick sip. “Thank you.”

The boy nodded and took his place within the room.

“As I was saying, the second thing rides along the idea of wasted potential. These women that he traffics are wasted lives. What they’re doing isn’t productive for rebuilding society. It’s actually tearing it down. We have plenty of shit that needs to get done, and we need the people to do it. If they can’t see that on their own, we’ll make them.

“I don’t think any of us believed it when the CDC said Almawt would essentially wipe humans from the earth, but as we venture further out, it’s becoming obvious their projection was accurate. Now let this sink in… We may be the only ones left working to restore order to this world.”

I just can’t imagine—

A crack of thunder and rain began to patter against the window sills.

“That’s kind of ominous, huh?” The captain grinned while looking back to his lieutenant. “You couldn’t have cued it up earlier?”

“Next time, sir.”

“Does anyone have any questions so far?”

No response.

“Then I’ll continue.” He moved from the podium and plucked a pointer stick from the chalkboard tray. The tip smacked against the map just over Burnet Woods. “He’s using the roundabout in the center of the park for the camp. The report states he may have fewer guards than what we saw last time, which means there may have been some sort of falling out over our offer, but we’ll need to confirm the numbers before we move on it. The scout counted between fifteen and twenty, excluding the Butcher and the women.” He moved to the podium and flipped a few pages further into the stack of papers. “There are two service roads that lead into the park, which they have blocked off with barricades made from partitions similar to some of our own.

“Noticeably absent from the report is an exact count on the women. We’ll need to figure that out, but I want to point out that whoever goes up there should understand that some of these girls may fight—depending on how far gone they are—they might. We’ll see, but it doesn’t appear that they have access to the firearms. However, keep in mind that once we hit their setup, we’ll need to be a little more careful about them. There’s nothing that’s going to prevent them from picking one up if they feel they need to. Be. Careful.

“As far as the Butcher’s concerned, he’s reported to be using the public restroom below the gazebo as his quarters. It’s private and out of the elements. That fancy bastard isn’t going to be walking around where he’s exposed.” He lifted the mug to his lips once more, gulping the rest of the water down. “We’re going to neutralize his guards, get the women to a safe place, and trap him like a rat. And just so there’s no confusion, we don’t need to take him alive, so if the team leader decides to just blow him up, so be it.

“Finally, ensure we take their ill-gotten goods. Take their trucks and load ’em up with all the weapons, ammo, food… you know what to do.

“So… Now that I’ve sufficiently teased this operation to all of you, I’m sorry to say that we’re sending only one of you.” He put a finger in the air. “One scout and one Guard will perform a more detailed assessment. The scout’s already been picked.”

Thomas looked around the room, but it was only Guards around him.

“He’ll be heading out today around noon with one of you and staying overnight. Soldiers from the Capital and an interrogator will meet with them in the morning. The rendezvous point will be the old EPA building just east of the park at 10:00. The scout team will be expected to have a full report of the camp’s happenings. It will have more details than this initial report.” He shook the stack of papers before handing it over to an assistant. “But before I announce who’s heading up, I have to make a decision regarding our complement of Guards.”

Captain Abel turned back to the lieutenant. He spoke lowly to him. The lieutenant nodded and mouthed an answer while he scanned the room intently. His eyes stopped on Thomas. Damn… I know I wasn’t late. Everyone saw I wasn’t.

“Thomas Ricard, front and center!” the lieutenant snapped.

“Yes, Sir!” Shit… Thomas tried his best to subdue his concern. I wasn’t late. What the hell could I have possibly done to deserve this?

All eyes on him once again—none of their faces envious for what awaited him. He moved along the wall rather than try and force himself through the gauntlet of bodies between his seat and the front. He thought he heard someone mumble “poor guy” from a few rows over, but he couldn’t be sure. Another person snickered. One less person to compete with, right guys? Every man for himself, huh?

“Guard Ricard,” The lieutenant said, as he stalked Thomas, moving from side to side in front of him. “It’s no wonder you want to be a Soldier so bad—Guard Ricard sounds dumb. Are you dumb?”

Thomas looked at him for a moment and finally uttered, “No, sir.”

“Are you sure? You had to think for a bit there.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Then why are you late again? The second time in two weeks. Is this a habit of yours you’re starting? Is this some new thing you’re testing out?”

“No, sir! I don’t believe—“

“Then why are you so dumb, Guard Ricard?” He was now in front of him—uncomfortably close—his coffee breath penetrating Thomas’s nostrils.

“I’m not, sir!” His voice elevated.

“Why are you yelling at me, Ricard?”

Thomas looked him in the eyes but said nothing. I hate these games. I’ve already been through Army boot camp and the S.A.’s training. I don’t need this stupid shit again. If you’re cutting me, just do it. Let me take Joseph and go wherever you send me.

“Maybe you are dumb… I asked you a question, Ricard.”

“I wasn’t yelling, sir,” Thomas stated calmly.

“I can’t hear you!” He shouted.

Thomas raised his voice, “I wasn’t yell—”

He shoved Thomas in his broad chest, making him take a slow step backwards simply to steady himself. “Damn, son. Where you from?”

Thomas swallowed the anger from being assaulted—unprovoked and from a man much smaller. He took a deep breath. If you weren’t a lieutenant you’d be on the ground. “I was born here, sir.”

“You’re as sturdy as a corn-fed ox.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“Have you heard the folks saying your ass should be dropped from the Soldier Program?” He raised his eyebrows, his face steadfast, waiting for a response.

“Folks say a lot of things, I guess… Sir.”

“I don’t really listen to folks, though.” He began pacing again. “I have my own opinions, but I have to know why you can’t seem to be here on time.”

“I don’t have an excuse, sir.”

The lieutenant’s face lit up as if Thomas had pressed the right button. “I like a man that doesn’t force excuses. Are you going to be late if I task you with the scout today?”

“No, sir!” Holy shit! Thomas fought back the smile that wanted to show.

The room began to grumble.

“Quiet down!” Captain Abel shouted.

Their frustration was understandable. Thomas knew each Guard that sat within the room wanted the opportunity for the Soldier’s patch. These opportunities waned as the grasp of the Second Alliance over the region continued to tighten. It was on the fringes of their territory that experience was earned. But L.P.H. Fortress was very much centralized.

“Anybody wants to say something they better speak up now.” The captain stood before a hushed room. “Good. These aren’t your decisions to make. I don’t want to hear any bullshit like that again. Good-bye!” He exited, and the room was called to attention once more.

Thomas turned to file out with the others, but the Lieutenant blocked his path “Hang tight.”

At the extent of Thomas’s periphery, he saw the jealous eyes that leered at him. A few muffled “lucky bastards” and “bullshits” later and Thomas stood as the only Guard remaining in the room. I deserve this. I’m not going to feel guilty.

“Come with me.” The lieutenant led him to the windows that faced eastward toward downtown and rested a hand on his shoulder while he spoke. Thomas repressed the feeling of ill-will toward the man that had shoved him only minutes ago. Rank oftentimes protected people from what they deserved, and Thomas knew not to jeopardize this blessing with any shortsighted remark or retaliation.

Thomas slid away from the lieutenant, not in an obvious manner, but playing it as if he saw something of interest out the window. He searched for something to say, but the lieutenant filled the lull. “Look out there. Look at all these people—all we’ve done. This is what we work so hard to protect. It’s our way of life, the way we do things. Under all God’s sky, everyone deserves a chance at this.” He continued on in this manner as Thomas stared off into the world.

The lieutenant’s words seemed to contradict everything that had occurred in the past two years since he returned from the war. Everyone deserves a chance at this? Everyone deserved a chance to live, but most of us didn’t.

Everything in the far-off distance appeared as it always had. It was as if man simply decided to leave everything behind—packed up and turned off all the lights—never to return. Houses and buildings still stood. Trees and grass still grew. There hadn’t been some spectacular event that took man with one swell swoop. Nothing close to that. Man hadn’t been that lucky. The Almawt virus ensured there was plenty of suffering.

Of course things could be worse for us now… A faint smile began to appear as he watched the town accomplish its efficiency. Every facet of life was contained here—grown and produced here. This actually is pretty damn amazing.

Along the street, two platoons of young children marched through the downpour, disciplined and moving as one, much better than he had seen during his Army days. And further beyond them, abutting the Mill Creek, from the viaduct to the highway, lay a vast field. Small hands worked the dirt—digging, plowing, scraping to ensure this year’s crop served the population.

All these children accomplished so much, completely clueless to how truly astonishing the feat they achieved really was. They did all this in the face of a crumbling world—in the face of all the tragedy surrounding them. These kids were the future of the Second Alliance—of the world.

The change of tone in the lieutenant’s rambling brought Thomas from his thoughts. “I know why you’re late, and so does the captain. We get it. Your little brother takes some time. We don’t hold it against you. Some of your teammates might, but we don’t. You’re a fine specimen of a man, and we’re excited to see you perform.”

“I’m excited for the opportunity, sir.”

“This will be your trial.” He wetted his lips. “Officially, this is it. You’re in charge of the operation even when the Soldiers get there. You served in Syria. I’ve seen your skillset. No one should give you any grief about leading this thing as a Guard.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you understand what happens if you should fail?”

“It won’t happen.”

“But if it does, do you know what happens?”

“Joseph and I will be transferred.”

“Not Joseph. Just you.”

“What—Why? I…” Thomas’s chest tightened. “Sir? I—I don’t understand. He’s my brother. He has to come with me.”

“It’s not a possibility, not in the slightest. Once removed from the Soldier Program, you’ll be transferred, but he’ll have to stay here. We’ll have to begin grooming him for his life.”

“That…”

“I understand your concern, but it’s not up for debate. So, if you’re successful—“

“Sir, I don’t have a choice. It’s when, not if.”

He smiled smugly. “Like I said, if you make it. If that happens, you’ll be able to write your own ticket.”

“Then I don’t want Joseph to have to do the cadet program.” The request rolled unflinchingly from his lips.

“As a Soldier, we could make that happen, but you have to get there first.”

Thomas nodded. I promised your parents I wouldn’t lose you, Joseph.

The lieutenant glanced at his wristwatch. “Not to be rude, but I don’t have all day here. You have permission to dump the gravel out of your ruck and load it up with the equipment you’re going to need. The scout will meet you at your apartment when he’s ready, so take a few and relax.

“Yes, sir.” Thomas snapped to attention and offered a crisp salute followed by a handshake. “I won’t fail.”