Ash: Rise of the Republic (8 page)

We headed back the way we came, not
bothering to investigate any more houses. Glancing in the rearview,
I noticed the Werner kid suddenly had a strange smile on his
face.

When we returned, we called an emergency
meeting. We decided to set up watch posts on the roofs of several
houses. One post would be on top of a tall house at highest point
in the neighborhood. Two sentries would be there at all times. From
there they would have a commanding view of the surrounding
countryside as well as a long stretch of both highways. Every third
house on the outer ring also got a watch post. They would be manned
at night or on days with low visibility so we could detect
intrusion at any point on the perimeter. The construction crew
began adding jagged scrap metal and broken glass to the top of the
perimeter wall to deter climbers, and a series of trip wires and
tin can rattles were set up in the yaupon thickets to warn us of
infiltration there. Several car horns were removed and set up at
the watch posts so that they could raise an alarm if anyone
approached.

We also established a rapid response force.
Every household was required to have at least one member armed and
ready to assemble at all times. If an alarm was raised, those who
were on duty would drop everything and meet at the source of the
issue.

Our preparations made, we nervously returned
to our projects. Thankfully, no looters appeared to probe the
defenses. There were a few false alarms when edgy sentries saw
phantom enemies in the swirling ash, but no real threats
emerged.

Two days after we returned from the
expedition, I awoke to a scream of despair. I grabbed my pistol,
sprinted into the living room, and skidded to a halt at the edge of
a pool of blood. Deb was kneeling next to Tracy’s limp body,
desperately prodding her neck for a pulse and sobbing
uncontrollably. The poor girl was face down, there was no sign of
life.

“Robert’s gone,” Deb said coldly, turning to
face me, “He did this, he must have!”

Knowing it was true, I ran out the front
door. My truck was gone. A trail of small footprints led through
the newly fallen ash to where it had been parked. I ran over to our
car, pulled the door open, and hammered out three long blasts on
the horn, paused, and delivered three more.

Within minutes, four of our neighbors were
rushing toward my driveway, armed to the teeth. I quickly explained
the situation to them. They were headed up the hill to check with
the gate guards by the time the rest of the neighborhood showed up.
I sent Mrs. Borger in to see if she could do anything for the poor
girl in my living room, and went with Mike and several others to
pursue the little bastard.

Halfway to the gate we met the first
responders in front of the meeting house. They gestured us inside.
Poor Maddie Cartwright, our supply manager, was lying on her back,
a small hunting knife lodged in the roof of her mouth. I found a
blanket and draped it over her.

“There’s food and ammo missing out here”
said Mike, coming in from the garage, “We’d better check on the
gate guards. I hope it’s not more of the same.”

****

Robert Werner killed four of our people that morning.
He was only a twelve year old boy, but he killed them all, stole a
vehicle, and made off with a month’s provisions in less than an
hour. He nearly tore our community apart in the process. Fingers
were pointed, accusations were leveled. In a week of searching we
never found him. He got away clean.

In the end he did us a favor. He woke us up.
That kid finally made us realize that the world had ended; that no
one was going to play by the rules anymore; that there weren’t even
any rules to play by.

Chapter 4

May, 31 PC (2046 AD)

*

“
The strength of the early
Republic lay in its fuel supply. Any threat to its production or
transport was necessarily met with savage and immediate force. The
Republic kept only a small standing army, but its citizens could be
called out for militia service on a day’s notice.”

-Daniel Galloway, ‘Risen From The Ash: A History of
the Republic’; RNT University Press, 50 PC (2065 AD);

*

After a night of restless sleep in the dank sewer,
Captain McLellan rose an hour before dawn and made his way back out
through the storm drain. He sat quietly in the thick brush until
pale morning light began to filter through the sodden clouds to the
east. By the time he crawled back into the cramped chamber where
his rangers were beginning to stir, he had made his decision. He
gently roused his two scouts and sent them out to locate the
enemy.

“We’re going to cut the patrol short,” The
troop yawned and rubbed sleep from their eyes. “We’re low on
rations, low on manpower, and afoot. We’re in no shape to bring the
fight to that army back there.” He raised his hand to ward off the
grumbling. “We’ll make a beeline for the Refinery. It’s only two
days away if we leave the highway and head cross country. I want
everyone geared up and ready to move by the time Stone and Blue get
back.”

The rangers were sullen as they broke camp.
The thought of running from a fight, especially from the savages
who had killed their friends, left them irritated and ashamed. They
craved vengeance, but they trusted their Captain implicitly. By the
time the scouts crawled through the entrance the rangers had shaken
off the disappointment were packed and ready.

“Looks like they called off the search once
it got dark last night, set up camp near the warehouse. Must have
just got back from a big raid, there’s empty liquor bottles and
food thrown all over. Big party I guess. Most of ‘em are still
snoring,” Stone helped himself to a long drink from Legs’ canteen
as he made his report.

“If we leave now we’ll have at least a half
day’s lead on them. They don’t look like they’re in too much of a
hurry,” added Blue.

“I guess we’d better get moving.”

“Wait, Cap’n, there’s more: I have a present
for you!” Blue winked and gestured at the tunnel.

The troop followed the scouts out through
the drain. The Captain chuckled when he saw Blue’s present. A
filthy, bearded man, his homespun clothes ragged and stained with
ash, was tied to a tree and gagged. Blood trickled from a huge knot
on his forehead. There was terror in his bloodshot eyes.

“He walked over to piss on the bush I was
hiding in, I couldn’t resist!” A proud smile stretched across
Blue’s round youthful face.

The Captain gestured for Grumps and Mason to
go to work on the man. He didn’t hold out long. After the second
punch he started talking. When he had spilled everything, Deb
pulled out her rope. Ten minutes later, the rangers were pulling on
their packs.

“Well let’s move out, we’ll need as much of
a head start as we can get,” ordered the Captain. The troop headed
Southeast through the trees. Their prisoner still twitched on his
rope, swaying slowly in the light breeze.

They spent the next two days trudging
through the repetitive wasteland that made up what used to be the
suburbs of Houston. Each subdivision they passed through was eerily
the same as the one before. The fractal, winding artery roads with
their cul-de-sac tributaries were lined with poorly built houses,
each a variation on one of five or six floorplans. Before the
pillar, each of them had been a pretentious, overpriced,
upper-middle class home with two cars in the driveway and a
jungle-gym in the backyard. Now all that showed above the thick
layer of ash were weather beaten roofs and battered second stories.
Many had collapsed over the years, plenty had burned.

There were no people. The small percentage
of the population who still stubbornly clung to life had moved into
more stable structures. Big multi-story office buildings were best.
Any structure built with strong materials and competent engineering
would do. A few of the big skyscrapers downtown now held fairly
prosperous communes. McLelland had accompanied a diplomatic mission
to the largest of them soon after the refinery was finished. They
had since become one of the Republic’s most profitable trade
partners and a powerful ally.

Though the ash covered much of the area’s
former prosperity, the landscape was not devoid of life. For the
past several years, the winters had been getting milder and the
summers warmer. The scientists at the University claimed that the
clouds were thinning, though no one could tell the difference. The
cloud cover seemed as thick and gloomy as ever, but surprisingly,
plants had begun to grow in the wild again. Big trees had yet to
make a comeback, but the more industrious and hardy strains of
weeds and bushes were abundant. These were especially thick along
the banks of the new watercourses which had sprung up.

Years of development had sequestered and
redirected the streams and rivers of the area into concrete
channels and drainage ditches between the neighborhoods. Thirty
years of ash had filled the manmade channels thoroughly, and no one
was around to maintain them. When the rains came, water had to go
somewhere. In many cases the former roads were the natural choice,
being largely free of obstructions and often the lowest point in
any given area. The new rivers and streams had not been mapped yet,
though there was some talk at the University of arranging an
expedition to do so. The Captain imagined that the maps that would
result would resemble to a large extent the road map he carried in
his pack.

There was also animal life present. Birds,
small mammals, and insects were nearly as abundant as they had been
in his youth, although the variety had suffered. Most large mammals
had died off years ago for want of fodder, but plenty of
enterprising little species had found ways to scratch a living out
of the dusty ash. Rodents were especially successful of course. Of
particular concern to the rangers were feral dogs. The abundance of
small mammals and birds were their normal prey, but a big pack of
the howling beasts would have no problem taking down something
larger. There were even rumors of deadly wildcats that prowled the
ruined neighborhoods, ambushing unwary looters and adventurers.

The rangers were wary as they moved through
the desolate region. The scouts abandoned their usual roaming
tactics and stayed close to avoid becoming dogmeat. The packs of
mangy canines they glimsed flitting between the rooftops were
reason enough for caution, but their main concern was more deadly.
Unpopulated ruins like these were hotbeds of outlaw activity.

In hushed voices, the Captain and his wife
told the tale of a dangerous bandit named Black Tooth they had once
chased through the maze of rooftops and creeks. He and his band had
been raiding and murdering homesteaders and settlements in the area
for years. The Rangers had finally caught their trail one winter
and had tracked them for a week. They pinned the outlaws near an
old retail center one evening and a fierce firefight ensued. Black
Tooth himself was killed, but despite the Rangers' best efforts the
remaining bandits slipped away in the night, disappearing into the
suburban labyrinth. The Captain chased them for a few more days,
but the bandits knew the terrain better than he. They ambushed and
harassed his party relentlessly. The damage they inflicted was
mostly psychological. Many of the veteran rangers were still
shaking when they finally abandoned the search.. They never caught
up to them. For all the Captain knew, they were still nearby,
waiting to spring the trap that would bring them vengeance for
their fallen leader.

The end of the second day brought them to a
new landscape. Decaying rooftops and winding suburban roads gave
way to orderly industrial parks. Abandoned factories and machine
shops were interspersed with storage depots and railways.

There were people here. Several of the big
warehouses had been transformed into huge greenhouses which fed the
growing community around the Refinery. Each indoor farm they passed
produced throngs of burbling children, eager to meet the exciting
strangers. The farmers and their wives greeted them with warm
smiles and pressed bundles of fresh vegetables and baked goods into
their grateful hands.

At each stop, the Captain inspected the
farms’ defenses. He was impressed. Several families lived and
worked in each of the big greenhouses. They kept guards posted at
all times; every member of each family who could hold a rifle
steady could be called on in a moment’s notice to defend the
settlement. The buildings themselves could be locked down in
minutes, and the defenders could fight from the rooftop or the
upper windows.

The farmers and their wives were hardy,
competant people; most had a story of hardship and triumph as long
as the Captain’s. Few ranger patrols ever made it this far from
Campus, and the Refinery usually had its hands full with guarding
the fuel shipments. The tough farmers had no choice but to defend
their homes with ferocity and skill.

They spent the last night of their journey
on the roof of some forgotten storage facility. Stretched out
before them, as far as they could see, was a twisted savannah of
steel and concrete. There were thickets of twisted metal, groves of
distillation columns, and cooling towers vined with pipes and
scaffolding. Vast tank farms lay between the copses of rusting
metal trunks. Many of the squat cylinders were still filled with
crude piped in from the oilfields or pumped from the holds of huge
ships in the prosperous years before the pillar.

The Captain gazed out over this cluttered
vista and thought about the world they had lost. There was a time
when this rusting maze of pipe and steel had churned out barrel
after barrel of gasoline and diesel, LPG and fuel oil. A thousand
different petrochemicals were distilled and seperated, catalysed
and hydrocracked in the forest below. The country and much of the
world relied on this region to produce all of the vital ingredients
of industrial civilization. Now, all of that vast refining capacity
lay in disuse, slowly rusting. All but the one small plant he had
helped bring back to life. A square mile of machinery,
painstakingly scraped from the ash and cobbled back to life with
cannabilized parts, sweat, and blood. A faint glow reflected from
the bellies of the clouds to the east. It was a lonely beacon of
progress; a reminder that civilization was not yet dead.