The Survivalist: Madness Rules Part 5

"If we hope to rebuild, indeed, if we hope to survive this apocalypse, we're going to have to change the way we govern."

"Mr. President, surely you're not proposing a military takeover," said General Carr.

"No, no, nothing like that," he said, waving it away like the suggestion was preposterous. "I understand the need for checks and balances. What I'm suggesting is that we restructure the authorities granted to various bodies on a temporary basis."

Carr's eyes narrowed. "How exactly?"

President Pike sat up straight as if about to bring up a matter of grave importance.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush. You men deserve better than that. The truth is that I want to repeal the War Powers Resolution. Temporarily, of course."

Jack Fry sat forward, struggling for the right words. Jack was the oldest man at the table, and in many ways the most respected. He sat in a wheelchair, the result of a car crash that had occurred six years earlier. But the chair in no way diminished his influence.

"Sir, the War Powers Act requires the president to seek approval from Congress for any prolonged military action. It has long proven critical in preventing past presidents from conducting military operations that might not be in the nation's best interest."

President Pike offered a conciliatory smile.

"I fully understand its importance, Jack. But let's face it; we don't have the luxury of such indecisiveness right now. If we delay, we die. And I, for one, love this country too much to let her die. I'm asking for your support on this." He s.h.i.+fted his gaze to dwell on each man. "All of your support."

Andrew Stinson was the first to speak up.

"I'll stand with you, Mr. President."

"As long as we're clear about the duration," said Pinker, "I'll support it as well."

Jack sat wringing his hands for a moment before finally acquiescing.

"Given the fragility of our nation, I don't think we have much of a choice. If we wait for the Congressional Body to approve the actions necessary to instill order, I fear that it will be too late."

"And you?" Pike said, turning to General Carr. "I know we've had our differences, but as the Secretary of Defense, your support is absolutely crucial."

General Carr's face betrayed the great struggle within. He knew Pike to be an evil man, one who had ties to a horrible attack against the US Marshals. But even evil men could sometimes be right. Separating the man from the decision was not only difficult, it was also imperative. In the end, all he could manage was a quick nod.

President Pike thanked each of them while doing his best to ignore Yumi's incessant nibbling on his ear lobe.

CHAPTER.

4.

By the time Mason, Connie, and Bowie finally got underway, it was already well past noon. Despite Connie's persistent nudging to get on the road, Mason knew better than to rush out the door unprepared. There was no guarantee when he would return, so he took care in securing the cabin well enough to withstand his absence. He also unloaded the .50 caliber machine gun from the bed of his truck, tucking it safely away inside the cabin. After that, he double-checked his food, water, and medical supplies to ensure they were adequate to support their trip to Ashland as well as his subsequent venture into Lexington.

The drive from his cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains to Ashland was right at three hundred miles, half a day under normal circ.u.mstances. But things were anything but normal. Interstates were clogged with abandoned cars and trafficked by violent predators of every shape and size. Mason decided that they would be better off traveling secondary roads, first heading west toward Johnson City and then north up through Kingsport.

He found that having Connie on the seat beside him was a far cry better than sitting next to an Irish wolfhound. She was easier on the eyes, not to mention smelled better. For his part, Bowie never complained, seemingly indifferent to being relegated to ride much of the trip in the bed of the truck.

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier," she offered.

"Don't worry about it."

"I hope you weren't offended."

He shook his head. "I don't take offense easily."

"I suppose that's a good thing," she said, glancing down at the Supergrade holstered at his side.

"It's been said that a man who carries a gun should have the temperament of a saint. I can't claim to have reached that disposition, but I do try."

"And do you get that even temper from your father? Traits like that are usually pa.s.sed down. My mother gave me my directness. And this mop, of course," she said, touching her red hair.

Mason smiled. "It suits you. As for my temperament, that most certainly did not come from my father. He's probably the angriest man alive."

"Angry about what?"

"People mostly. They seem to get on his last nerve."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I guess deep down he thinks most people are pretty crummy."

She thought about that for a moment.

"He may be right, you know. Certainly, the men I've met lately have been awful."

"There have always been bad men. They just feel more empowered now because there are fewer good men watching."

"Is he still alive? Your father, I mean."

"Oh sure. He's not about to let a little thing like Armageddon kill him. I imagine he's having the time of his life."

"With all of this going on?" She gestured out her window toward a burned-out car with two bodies lying beside it. "Death and violence are everywhere."

"What can I say? Tanner Raines is a man who thrives in chaos. The uglier things get, the more he s.h.i.+nes."

"Forgive me for saying it, but he sounds rather scary."

"He is that."

"Was he... well, you know, rough with you as a child?"

"Not really. He pushed me to be self-sufficient, of course, but I don't fault him for that. He was always there when I needed him."

"Can't ask for more than that, I guess. Momma was the strong one in our family. She never let anyone run over us."

"What about your father?"

Connie hesitated for a moment.

"Sorry if that's too personal," he said.

She shook her head. "No, it's okay. Truth is Momma killed him."

Mason turned to her. "Why'd she do that?"

"One night after a bit of drinking, he came to the bedroom and wouldn't take no for an answer. Beat her pretty good while taking what he wanted in the process."

"Like I said, there have always been bad men."

"Anyhow, when he finished, she got up and fetched her a tire iron out of the car. That was it for poor old Daddy."

"And she got away with killing him?"

"Momma ended up getting to know the police chief a little better than she probably should have, if you know what I'm saying." She grinned. "Anyway, in the end, he declared it justifiable. It all just went away, the way things do in small towns."

"And here I thought my family was dysfunctional," he said with a chuckle.

"All families are dysfunctional in one way or another. But they make us what we are, warts and all."

Mason looked out at the empty stretch of road, wondering whether Connie might be right. As much as he resented his father's quick temper and willingness to resort to violence, he wondered if they were really so different. Perhaps a man's blood was not something he could escape. Perhaps he shouldn't even try.

A few hours into the drive, they pa.s.sed through Hampton, Tennessee, a small town surrounded by the Unaka Mountains. Hampton stretched only a handful of blocks in any direction and now looked completely abandoned. Mason was about to suggest they consider looking for a place to rest for the night when he spotted a large convoy of RVs and campers up ahead, parked in front of a Sh.e.l.l gas station. A group of at least a dozen men and women stood cl.u.s.tered near the middle of the caravan, talking. From their crossed arms and red faces, the discussion appeared to be quite heated. When they saw Mason's truck approaching, one of the men hurried into the two-lane road and waved him down.

It took Mason a moment to recognize the middle-aged man as Carl Tipton, a traveler he had met several weeks earlier in Sugar Grove. At their last encounter, Carl and his brother John had been leading a convoy of settlers searching for a safe place to rebuild. From the panicked look on Carl's face, something must have gone terribly wrong.

Mason pulled his truck in behind the convoy and climbed out. He told Connie to stay behind and for Bowie to watch over her. Neither of them seemed particularly pleased with his orders.

"Marshal Raines, thank G.o.d," Carl said, hurrying over.

"What's going on?"

"We've lost my brother John and his wife Jules."

"What do you mean you lost them?"

"In Elizabethton last night, we were attacked by those infected monsters. Everything got crazy so fast. When we realized we couldn't fight them off, everyone ran for the RVs and raced out of town."

"But not John and Jules?"

"They tried, but those d.a.m.n creatures managed to tip their RV before they could pull away. G.o.d forgive us, but we left them." Carl's voice broke, and he choked back tears. "I left my own brother behind. And poor Jules, too."

"What about their daughter?" Mason didn't even want to consider what the infected might do to a ten-year-old girl.

"Lucy's safe," he said, motioning to a motorhome behind him. "She was with me in another RV."

"That's something at least."

"A group of us went back in early today to search for them, but they weren't anywhere to be found. Everyone insisted on getting out before dark, saying it's too dangerous."

"It is too dangerous," Mason said, thinking of the brutality he had witnessed in Richmond Hill when the infected had overrun a band of mercenaries. "They'll tear your whole group to pieces."

Carl shook his head. "I don't care. I need to make this right, even if I die in the process. I can't forgive myself for what I've done."

"Forgive yourself or not, that's up to you. It doesn't change what's done."

Carl put his hands over his face and began to cry.

"I can't live thinking they might be out there suffering. John's the only family I got left, Marshal."

Mason looked back at Connie and Bowie and then turned his gaze north toward Elizabethton. He reminded himself that no journey worth taking was ever a straight line.

"I'll go in after them."

Carl looked up and quickly shook his head.

"No, sir, this is my responsibility. I left them, and by G.o.d, I'll go get them."

"No, you won't."

"Why not?"

"Because if you do, you'll very likely die. And then little Lucy will have lost the last bit of family she has left. I don't think your brother or his wife would want that. Believe me, even if they died last night at the hands of those creatures, they found some measure of comfort knowing that you would take care of their daughter."

Carl struggled with the truth of Mason's words.

Finally, he sighed and said, "Do you think you can find them?"

"You point me in the right direction, and I'll find them. Whether or not they're still alive, though, is up to them."

"Thank you, Marshal. From the bottom of my heart, thank you."

Mason looked back at the truck. Connie was leaning over in the seat, trying to see what was happening. Bowie kept her in check by licking her face every time she got too close-something that she did not seem to appreciate.

"Do me a favor, will you?" said Mason.

"Anything."

"Keep an eye on the woman traveling with me."