The Final Day (After, #3)(81)
“Listen up. What General Scales is saying here is the way it’s got to be. I don’t like it any more than you do. I came here with him with an understanding. No harm was to come to him, and realize he’s made one hell of a personal gesture of his showing his character by doing this personally rather than sending some underling to do it. He put his life on the line to deliver this message.”
No one said anything, but John could still sense the righteous anger.
“Look, it is the way it is, and I don’t like it any more than you. Either we shut it down and start disassembling it now, today, or I know for a fact that come tomorrow, his people will be back and do it for us.”
“Let them try it!” Samantha cried, voice near to breaking. “We haven’t busted our asses for weeks without sleep just to have it come to this.”
“I know how you feel. Remember I was the one who first said go ahead with it when Ernie and Paul Hawkins figured out we could get computers back up and running and use them for what you’ve been doing. Please listen to me. We don’t agree, you try to put up a fight, and thirty seconds of an Apache helicopter hovering over this place will end it anyhow. There is no arguing with that. Most of you saw what an Apache can do when we faced off against Fredericks back in the spring.”
“So we surrender to another Fredericks, is that it?” Samantha pressed. “Go ahead and try, damn it. We can haul this stuff out of here before you hit and hide it in the woods, and then try to find it all.”
Bob edged past John and looked straight at Samantha. “I admire your courage, young lady. Yes, you can do that. If I were you, that would be my first reaction. But please think. If forced to act rather than resolving this peacefully, this house is gone. If forced to, your power station—which you need to run things here—is gone. Then what? You are dead, and a lot of young men and women about your age are gone as well. Please, I do not want that, but the orders are firm. This operation shuts down today. I’m asking your help to ensure it happens without anyone getting hurt. If I didn’t care about that, I just would have sent an attack helicopter in and not put myself here in front of you.”
John looked over at his old commander and actually did feel a surge of emotion. His words, his caring, hit hard. Fredericks, and so many others like him, would have hit first, and those killed on both sides not a concern.
There was a long moment of silence broken only by whispers back and forth between those assembled.
“He’s right,” Linda finally interjected, breaking the tension. “All right, General, we shut it down, but before we do so, I want you to look at a few things and answer a few questions. Can you agree to do that first?”
“Of course, ma’am.”
“It’s Linda.”
“All right.” Bob hesitated, some emotion showing. “My wife was named Linda as well.”
Linda looked back at the gathering around them. “Why don’t you kids relax for a while? You all look pasty faced as zombies. Get some coats on, go out, and enjoy the air and a bit of sunshine before that next storm rolls in. Now get going.”
She shooed them out of the living room like a protective hen, the group breaking up, but it was obvious that none of them were pleased.
“How about we go upstairs to talk?” she offered. “Ernie, time for some cigars and brandy.”
“Share a cigar with him?” Ernie growled, nodding toward Bob. “And Matherson doesn’t smoke.”
“I’ll sit next to you and inhale deeply,” John said, trying to smile and break the tension.
*
Once into his office, Ernie opened the cigar humidor, and there were only two left within.
“These are my last two Cubans, and don’t ask how I got them before the Day,” he announced sadly as he held one up and sniffed it. “My homegrown stuff tastes like shit, but at least it is something after you two are gone.”
Bob actually smiled and nodded a thanks as Ernie clipped off the ends, offered one to Bob, struck a match, and held it for Bob as he puffed his cigar to life. Ernie hoarded the precious friction match, managing to light his own cigar as well before tossing the match down to the tile floor.
“Classified info,” Bob said, smiling after first inhaling the cigar, taking it deep in without coughing. “A year back, the navy seized a shipment of these, and I was able to trade a bottle of real scotch with an admiral friend of mine for a box. First one I’ve had in half a year or more. Thank you.”
“So that easy to get contraband stuff out there?” Ernie queried sharply.
“Not as easy as you might think,” Bob replied without breaking his smile, showing to John that he could still keep that poker-face grin even when someone was needling him.
Linda came in bearing a bottle of wine, and Ernie groaned. “That’s one of the last of the Malbecs.” He sighed as Linda handed it to him to uncork.
“Might as well send our friend John off with a proper wine,” she said.
“Who said I’m going anywhere?”
She looked at him, and her composure let down for a moment.
“You’re arresting him and taking him away, aren’t you, General?”
Neither Bob nor John replied as Ernie, taking that in, uncorked the bottle and poured out four drinks into slightly dingy glasses and held his up.