Edge of Valor: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller(32)

He’d planned to be in Winter Haven by now, surrounded by the old comforts—heat, electricity, and hot water.

The thought rankled him. He was a patient man, but he enjoyed his creature comforts.

His mouth watered. He drooled at the thought of a bottle of premium aged wine. It wasn’t cognac, but at this point, he’d take anything.

“Go find me something to drink,” he ordered Baxter.

Southwest Michigan was wine country. The climate along the coast of Lake Michigan was perfect for varietals like Pinot Grigio, Pinot Noir, and Cabernet Franc. A decade ago, he’d spent a drunken weekend with a stunning call girl visiting the local wineries of Tabor Hill in Buchanan and Julian Winery in Paw Paw.

There had to be something. Damn Baxter to hell if he didn’t bring back a bottle with a high alcohol content in the next ten minutes.

“I thought you wanted to work on chapter five of your memoirs—”

“I said go!”

The man practically bowed, then scurried from the room. The General’s bodyguards let him pass without shifting out of his way or the slightest change in their stony expressions.

Baxter bowled into Gibbs as the ex-soldier swept into the suite. Gibbs’ granite face revealed no hint of irritation as Baxter blabbered a hurried apology and disappeared down the hallway.

Gibbs shut the door behind him and stepped into the room. He folded his hands behind his back. “Still no response from Fall Creek, sir.”

The General cursed.

Fall Creek’s twenty-four-hour deadline had come and gone. They had not offered a broken and subdued Liam Coleman in cuffs like a sacrificial lamb.

Indignation burned through him. He’d hoped to do this the easy way. Roll in like a conquering hero after defeating the nihilist gang plaguing the town.

They’d have to give up one citizen. So what? People died all the time. They would’ve gotten over it.

The townspeople were obstinate, short-sighted fools.

So be it. They’d chosen their fate.

He had delayed immediate retaliation for two reasons. First, during his illustrious career, he had learned a few tricks from the best interrogation specialists in the CIA.

Fear had a way of escalating and intensifying the desired results. The anticipation of the punishment was often worse than the pain itself.

Let them wait. Let them stew in the juices of their terror. Tremble in fear and dread. A living nightmare without end.

It would be a fate more terrible than death.

Second, he wanted the self-sufficient enclave of Winter Haven, and needed it preserved. There was something—rather, someone—he needed within that town.

He hesitated to rain fire upon their heads until he’d secured what he wanted.

Then, and only then, would Fall Creek experience the true force of his wrath.

“What’s our next move?” Gibbs asked. “Why haven’t we hit them yet?”

With the full might of the Michigan National Guard, the General could take Fall Creek within minutes, if not outright destroy it.

But the governor had hamstrung him. He had a fraction of the men, weapons, and ammo he wanted. That needed to change.

Ignoring Gibbs, he pulled the satellite phone from his pocket and dialed the governor. Henry Duffield picked up.

“What is the status on Poe?” Governor Duffield shouted. “His criminal army breached the Indiana border!”

“I’m aware,” the General said smoothly. “I will deal with it.”

Illinois’ pathetic lack of a military presence was the only reason that Poe was roaming about the country with such ease.

Within a week of the Collapse, the feds had abandoned Chicago and pulled the entire state’s National Guardsmen, transferring them to New York City and Washington, D.C.

Illinois was ripe for the taking.

And Poe had taken it all.

“They’ve overrun Gary—”

“Who cares about Gary, Indiana? Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!”

The governor was consumed with apprehension and plagued by doubt and uncertainty.

The coward didn’t have the fortitude for what the job required.

The General scowled at the phone. “If you want me to handle Poe, you need to provide me with the proper men and equipment. Like I have said repeatedly—”

“Do you understand what I’m dealing with here? Only a fifty percent muster for the National Guard, and they’re deserting like flies! Every unit is operating at well below adequate personnel. I have an entire state in chaos! We’re about to lose Detroit to gang warfare. I cannot afford to recall a single soldier.”

“There are units equipped with the weapons systems I need. The 147th Aviation Regiment has more Black Hawks. The 110th Attack Wing in Battle Creek has drones—”

“Drones! You want drones? The EMP grounded half of them. They weren’t hardened adequately. No one knew exactly how a powerful EMP would impact sensitive equipment. The army deemed all functioning tech essential and sent it overseas. Besides, the federal government requisitioned those regiments the day after the EMP. I had no choice but to send them to D.C. No choice!”

“If you had listened to me from the beginning—”

“No, you listen!” The governor’s voice went low and hard. “Listen to me closely. I have already given you everything I have. There is nothing else. You must make do. You said you could produce results. Now do it!”