The Final Day (After, #3)(116)

“I am a man of faith, and I swear to you before God I will not harm a single innocent person in this place. But I also swear to you that unless you back off now, every person in this place will be living like the rest of America in another hour. At least I’ll give your people time to get into warm clothes if they have any and one pouch of an MRE each, but that is it. And that is a damn sight more than you and yours ever gave to the rest of this country two and a half years ago. I’ve said my piece. It is now you who have one minute to decide.”

John tossed the phone down on the desk and looked over at Pelligrino. “Get on there and tell her I’m not bluffing!” John shouted.

Bob sat in perfect silence, looking up at John in surprise.

John drew out his Glock and pointed it at Pelligrino. “Tell her I’m not bluffing!” John shouted.

“John?” It was Bob speaking, but John did not look at him.

“Tell her.”

Hands shaking, Pelligrino needed both to pick the phone up. “He has a gun to my head. He’s just crazy enough to do it.”

“One minute for the shooting in here to stop and for you to halt whoever is preparing to hit us, or this place starts coming down!” John shouted.

“He means it!” Pelligrino cried.

A pause, more arguing from the other end, and someone sobbing their kids were in the middle of it and to back down.

“Thirty seconds!” John shouted.

“All right! All right!” she cried.

It sounded like she was muffling the mouthpiece of the phone, but all could hear her shouting to get on a comm link to the security team in Sector Alpha and order them to cease fire and withdraw.

“Tell her she just bought herself a few more minutes,” John said, looking at Pelligrino, who nodded and gasped out the message.

John stepped to the door into the room, telling the one remaining member of their team standing watch to go out to the gate and report back whether all was secure.

The distant sound of gunfire finally ceased. Two minutes turned to three and then four.

The guard, breathless, ran back into the cavernous main hall and then up to the communications center. “Whoever they are, they’ve apparently pulled back, sir.”

John nodded and lowered his weapon away from Pelligrino, and the man visibly shuddered and sighed with relief.

“How bad was it?” Bob asked.

“Two of our people at the gate are down. I think one is dead.”

John wanted to ask if his own friends were safe but knew he could not do so now.

Bob nodded and took the phone from Pelligrino. “Every death now is on your head,” he said. “I’ll call you back in five minutes. But if any moves are made, if anyone tries to approach from outside, what Matherson said will come to pass.”

He hung up without waiting for her reply and looked back at Phyllis, who, though obviously frightened, was displaying more nerve than Pelligrino.

“You and I need to talk, and I promise you, either way you answer, no harm will come to you. You have my word of honor on that.”

She nodded but did not reply.

Bob spared a sharp glance toward Pelligrino and motioned to the door, and the breathless trooper hustled him out of the room, closing the door.

“Sit down, Phyllis.” Bob offered her a chair.

She did as requested, and Bob motioned toward the pack of cigarettes. She shook her head, but he drew one out for himself, as did John.

“Phyllis, how long have you been here?”

“Since the morning of the day the war started.”

“Why you? Are you a family member of someone in Bluemont?”

“No, sir.”

“Then why?”

“I’d rather not say.”

That could mean a lot, but John sensed what it might be and did not press the question.

“And you being in here in this room when I came in?” Bob continued.

“I was assigned to work communications here. I used to be a producer and sometimes anchored for a television station in D.C.”

For John, that seemed to fall a bit into place. She was tall, highly attractive, the type that would be pushed in front of a camera to interview some government official. It was easy enough to see that had developed out and why she was alive here rather than long ago dead back in Washington.

“I think you know that outside of here, Bluemont, and I can only assume now a few other places, our country has gone to hell.”

She just nodded, head lowered.

“It could have been you out there, Phyllis.”

“My parents, a sister”—she paused—“a guy who was once my boyfriend.”

“Phyllis, do you know that Bluemont is preparing to launch an EMP strike against our own country?”

She hesitated. “There have been rumors,” she whispered.

“And your thoughts on that?”

She did not reply.

John could see what Bob was trying to do and gently moved in on the conversation. “Phyllis, there are hundreds of communities like mine that just barely managed to survive. Barely. We’re starting to crawl out of the dust, basic things, get at least a trickle of electricity up and running. From that, the chemistry lab in the college where I teach is again making anesthesia and antibiotics, things we once took for granted. Phyllis, have you ever witnessed an amputation with the victim wide awake, no pain pills afterward, no way to stop infection once it set in?”