United States Of Apocalypse Read online

  “Where are you going to get the food?”

  A run had happened on the convenience and grocery stores. The large bulk stores had clamped down, and those that weren’t completely out of supplies were heavily guarded.

  “I have contacts,” Mike said in hushed tones, implying they were less than upstanding citizens.

  “And what are you going to use as payment? I’m sure they’re not going to give you anything out of the kindness of their hearts.”

  “You let me worry about that.”

  “I know you’re right. I’ve just been a cop for so long I have a hard time doing anything that’s not above board.”

  “Weird, I would have thought that would be easy for you. You know, with all the ‘takes’ you cops get.” Mike was smiling.

  “Shut up. I’ve got a better way that doesn’t involve selling your soul.”

  “Who says I still have that available? Baggie, keep an eye on the house.” The cat stretched, its long claws digging into the carpet.

  “Sam’s is that way.” Mike pointed to their left.

  “Not going to Sam’s unless your idea of dinner for the next year is canned peas.”

  “Yeah, I’ll pass. How hungry would I have to be before that started to sound good?” Mike wondered aloud.

  “Not long.”

  “Where are we going then?” Mike looked around.

  “I have good friends at the National Guard barracks.”

  “Good enough they’re going to give you food?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, no hesitation there. Can I ask why we’re going there then? The Guard has a tendency to ask questions after you’re dead.” Mike was genuinely concerned about approaching any military organization.

  “I’ve been to the barracks on a number of occasions.”

  “Yippee for you.”

  “I know where they keep the food,” Tynes said.

  “Okay, I’m a little more intrigued. Continue.”

  “Thanks. They have damned near a warehouse full of MREs in the event of a disaster.”

  “Are you kidding me? Why aren’t they giving it away? Oh, forget it. I get it. They’re saving it for themselves. Why aren’t the Feds forcing them?”

  “They’ve got their hands full, I would imagine. Recalling the troops, keeping the country going, collecting taxes, that kind of thing. I bet they don’t give two shits about a few million starving people in New York. I’ll let you in on a dirty little secret. In extreme times like this, the priority isn’t the populace, it’s the government.”

  “Yeah that’s a shocker, Tynes. The government has been looking out for their own best interests since Conway Cabal tried to oust George Washington as President.”

  “Who? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m saying that all people in power are predisposed to douchebaggery.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “So Mr. Cop, you really want to steal food from the most heavily armed personnel in the general area?”

  “I think we need to.”

  “I think we’re going to need help. I don’t think it’s going to be the cakewalk you believe it will be. Whatever set-up they had before is going to be reorganized and reinforced. If you want to fight an army, you’re going to need an army.”

  “You got one?”

  “No, but I know where to get one. Turn around.”

  “Where to?”

  “The garment district.”

  “I was under the impression Pembroke never wanted to see you again.”

  “I think it’s safe to say that times have changed, and I’m bringing him an offer he may not be able to refuse.”

  “Hold up, Mike. I want to get food, not start a war. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  “Little late for that, don’t you think? Seems to me that the National Guard thinks we’re merely moving targets at this point. They see us, and I’d rather have Pembroke’s men by our side to help us get out of a jam.”

  “Are you sure that he won’t just take our plan and kill us?”

  “You have a plan?”

  Tynes looked cross.

  “Listen, these are our options. First, we do nothing, we have enough food for a bit, and then we fight everyone else for the remaining scraps and we get killed. Second, me and you go take on the Guard and get killed. Third, we get Pembroke’s help, and either the guard or he himself kills us. Fourth, and the least likely scenario, with Pembroke’s help, we actually score some food and we don’t get shot by anyone. We have enough food for months, we ride this thing out until there is some semblance of normalcy then we deliver some sort of payback to the fuckers that started this shit.”

  “My vote is for the fourth option.”

  “Pembroke it is. All right, drop me off here. Guaranteed that Juicy and his boys will have a perimeter set up; he sees me, and he’s going to shoot before he ever says anything to his boss.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Get a manicure, I think the salon is still open.”

  “Seriously.”

  “If you hear gunfire, I’m dead. Go home, take care of Baggie, and I’ll see you on the other side. If, in a half hour from now, I don’t knock on your window, I’m dead—repeat the above instructions.”

  “A lot of ways to die in this new world.”

  “The old world was just as dangerous; it was just hidden from sight better.” Mike got out of the car. “Wish me luck, man.” He pulled his hoodie up over his head and tied the draw strings tight to obscure as much of himself as he could, then he buried his hands in the front pouch, holding on tightly to the small revolver that was there.

  “This is stupid. I’m going to get killed before I can get myself killed.” Mike approached the corner of Thirty-Third and Seventh Avenue. It was a ghost town, replete with paper tumbleweeds whipping down the roadway. He thought he could feel eyes upon him, but as of yet he had not been challenged. He didn’t dare scan the windows above him. Just keep walking normal, Mikey boy. He turned the corner and couldn’t believe his luck, or lack thereof, as a group of men stood around a burning trash barrel. Mike wondered if perhaps they would break out into a cappella. He was looking at the back of Juicy’s greasy hair as he walked closer. This was going to be close. A man pointed over Juicy’s shoulder at the impending intruder. Juicy was in the process of turning as Mike was in the midst of pulling out his gun.

  “Not close enough,” Mike mumbled. His gun was out, but now at least two rifles were pointing at him. “Juicy, I’ll blow your fucking head off if they shoot me!” he shouted.

  There was a silence as Juicy thought on the voice. “Talbot? Shoot the motherfucker.” He turned and looked directly at Mike.

  The charade was over. Mike knew that as he threw his hood back to get a better peripheral view.

  “I’m fifteen feet away. I won’t miss from here.” Mike wasn’t confident. He’d never been great with a handgun, and a snub nose was accurate for not much more than that distance. He only hoped he sounded confident enough in his abilities that Juicy would believe him, or at least choose not to risk it.

  “I told you not to come back here. You stupid puta.”

  “I couldn’t stay away, man. I’ve always had this thing for stringy hair.” A couple of the men laughed. There was a strangled growl from Juicy. “Trust me, I don’t want to be here either. I’ve got a proposition for the boss.”

  “Yeah, well maybe he’s got a proposition for you!” he shouted back.

  “Gentlemen, gentlemen, let’s settle this amicably. Hello, Mike,” Pembroke said from the doorway.

  “Hello, Mr. Pembroke.”

  “I thought I’d made my intentions very clear when last we were together.”

  “You did, sir, crystal clear. Circumstances changed.”

  “Ah yes, the destruction of your home city. I’m sorry for that.”

  Mike felt the true sincerity in his former boss’s words.

  “Thank you. I wanted to run someth
ing by you.”

  “You still at the cop’s house?”

  “How...? Forget it; you already know I am.”

  “You gay for him?” Juicy spat out trying to save face.

  “Even if I was, what business is it of yours?” Mike asked. Juicy had been expecting hostility and denial and was unprepared for Mike’s candid reply.

  “Well, because you’d be a fag!”

  “You’re an idiot, Juicy,” Mike said as he walked past him. Pembroke had waved him in. Mike thought Pembroke’s particular sexual preference was a well-known fact. Apparently, Juicy had not received the memo.

  “Juicy, go get the cop, and if anything happens to him while he’s under my protection, I will personally skin you alive,” Pembroke said as he pulled the door shut. “Why are you here Mike?” he asked as they went down the hallway and into his office. Pembroke moved behind his heavy desk and sat in an expensive leather-bound chair. “Sit, sit,” he urged.

  “Thank you.”

  “Cigar? They’re Cuban. No more trade embargoes.”

  “I usually smoke stuff a little more green, but I don’t think I can pass that up. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. Do you want to wait for Tynes?”

  “You going to let us live?”

  “Depends on what we have to talk about.”

  “I’ll wait for him then.”

  “Splendid.” He reached across his desk and lit Mike’s cigar.

  “He didn’t come willingly,” Juicy said, not wanting to get any closer to an already angry Tynes.

  “Hello, Sergeant Tynes. Please sit down,” Pembroke said, ushering the cop to a seat.

  “You can leave,” Pembroke said to Juicy. Juicy was less than pleased to not be included in the discussion. The room shook as the door was slammed shut.

  “What’s going on, Mike?” Tynes asked.

  “Mr. Pembroke here is waiting to hear if the proposal we have is worth his time or not.”

  “And if it isn’t?”

  “We’re going to need an exit strategy.”

  “Gentlemen, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “Tell him,” Mike prodded.

  “Everything?”

  “How many options you see?”

  “I know how and where to get food,” Tynes said, turning to Pembroke.

  “Ah food, now there is a commodity that will be nearly worth its weight in gold in another month, probably more so. I’m listening.”

  “What assurances do I have that once I tell you everything that you don’t just off us and go ahead with the plan yourself?”

  “I’m not a damned savage. Believe it or not, Sergeant Tynes, there is a criminal code of conduct. Most don’t adhere to it, but I live by it.”

  “Um…Mr. Pembroke, sir. I hate to be Captain Obvious, but that statement doesn’t really guarantee our safety.”

  “Michael, I like you. I always have. You kept your nose clean.”

  Tynes scoffed.

  “He kept his nose clean within our circles, Sergeant. Mike, you did what I asked with a minimal amount of worry. Perhaps you could have risen high within our structure, but I think you did, and still have, too much of a conscience. There are, let’s say, elements of this job that would have proved damaging to that sensitive psyche of yours. Of course, that conscience was one reason I knew I could rely on you not to turn on us. I liked you the way you were. Sarcastic, quick tongued, and quick witted.”

  “That’s what you like about him?” Tynes was having a difficult time seeing those as strong personality traits.

  “Tell him. I trusted him enough to think he’d at least hear us out. If he likes it, we’re in.”

  “I’m saying this under protest,” Tynes stated.

  “You can tell the undertaker. I’m sure he’ll give a shit.”

  Pembroke laughed at Mike’s words. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

  “The food, I know where we can get more than enough.”

  “I’m not sure there is ever such a thing as ‘more than enough,’ but continue.”

  “I have a couple of friends in the National Guard. They have a warehouse on East Twenty-Fifth and Twenty-Sixth that houses thousands upon thousands of full pallets of MREs.”

  Mike thought he detected the slightest gleam in Pembroke’s eye. He sniffed the bait. Now they just had to hook him.

  “The Guard might just be the most influential and heavily armed gang in this region at the moment. I assume you have a way to bypass the direct approach?”

  “I do. A little over a year ago, my buddy took me on a tour of their armory, barracks, and emergency supply warehouses. I noticed one of those huge grates like they have all along the sidewalks downtown.”

  “Delivery access.” Pembroke’s interest was increasing.

  “Right. I asked my friend about it. He said it wasn’t used anymore. I looked into it, as part of my duty as a cop, because I was curious if anyone could gain access and get to the armory.”

  “And so?”

  “Well, it’s possible. Not probable, though, because it comes up through a sealed-off part of the old subway system.”

  “How sealed off?”

  “Cinderblock wall.”

  “Interesting.”

  “I thought so.”

  “How many men do you suppose it would take to secure as much food as possible and potentially foster an escape should that become necessary?”

  “I would rather do it with fewer men to avoid detection, but to make it worthwhile, we’ll need a small army. I would say at least fifty.”

  Pembroke sat back. “There are perhaps a thousand or so personnel garrisoned there. I can easily get you fifty, but they will not be militarily trained. I think double that number would be in order and perhaps something of an epic distraction as well.”

  “They don’t venture out much anymore, and they’re certainly not going to do anything to put themselves in harm’s way. They’ve bunkered in, despite their orders from the Fed,” Mike added.

  “You let me worry about that. I’ll need a couple of days to plan this assault. Let’s say three nights from now? I’ll have my driver pick you up.”

  With that, Juicy came back to escort the men out.

  “Pembroke, any chance I can get another one of these?” Mike asked, holding out the cigar.

  “I said I liked you, Mike, I didn’t say we were an item.” He smiled as the men left his office.

  “So, now what?” Tynes asked Mike as they headed back to his house.

  “Well, we wait or we run like hell.”

  “What’s your gut tell you?”

  “My gut tells me we’re going to be very hungry before this is all over and that we should maybe see this through. Plus, I’m pretty sure we’re being watched, and if they think we’re leaving, they’ll kill us for sure.”

  The crumble of civilization showed its biggest effects within the confines of the city, but the tide of ruin was spreading. More and more houses on the outskirts were destroyed. Broken windows, burned husks, bullet holes along the frames; desolation was becoming more commonplace. Like necrotic skin tissue, the blackening death was marching along. Nothing now could stand within its path; it would wash away the remains of what kept people civil. It had not yet struck Tynes’ neighborhood, but it would, and soon. There were three men and a woman standing on Tynes’ lawn when they pulled up.

  “What do those assholes want?” Tynes asked.

  “I can see you are the neighborly type. Surprised they didn’t welcome me with open arms when they thought you were gone. I’m sure I’m an improvement.”

  “The older guy, that’s Dutch. He’s in charge of the Neighborhood Association. That’s his wife, Marlene. She’s the Welcome Wagon. The other one is a psychiatrist, Collins, or something like that. You two should get along fine. I’m sure he’ll be fascinated by you. I don’t recognize the last man.”

  They all turned as the car parked. Mike had not been expecting Dutch’s wife to be as attr
active as she was. When she turned, he was struck by her youthful appearance.

  “That’s not his daughter?”

  “Put your tongue back in your mouth.”

  “Oh, thank goodness, Lawrence. We thought that perhaps you had left the city,” Marlene said as she approached. She had her elbow cupped in one hand the other resting on her chest in a very upper-crust gesture.

  “You don’t strike me as a Lawrence,” Mike said.

  “Yeah, keep it up and this Lawrence will strike you.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Mike said with his hand outstretched. Tynes cut him off.

  “What can I help you with, Marlene?”

  “Did you hear? The Kentons from two streets over were robbed. Tied up! Harold was beaten! They broke his nose and gave him a black eye.”

  “He’s lucky that’s all they did,” Mike added.

  “Perhaps where you come from that is acceptable behavior, but not here.” Dutch said.

  “Listen, asshole, I never said it was acceptable; I’m just saying it’s a good thing they didn’t kill him and take his wife. If you think that’s bad, just wait and see what happens in a couple of weeks when no one has any food.”

  “I’m sorry...Mike has a unique perspective on all of this. What do you want?”

  “Well perhaps he was, um, right in his desire to create a neighborhood watch.”

  “You, Mike? You offered to do that?” Tynes had turned.

  Mike shrugged. “Safety in numbers. Downtown is going to find uptown soon enough. Even some of these snooters are going to get pretty cagey soon. Starving people don’t give a shit about their stations in life.”

  “I agree with my...um...associate here, in principle. Maybe not so much in his delivery. Perhaps we should work on a plan to defend this street. Tonight would be a good time to discuss this. Let’s say six, and we can do it here.”

  The small crowd dispersed.

  “You need to work on your social skills,” Tynes said as he opened the door for Mike.

  “Why? You do realize this shit is just a stopgap. Civilization is falling apart. It’s going to get bad, and soon.”

  Tynes took a second to respond. “You don’t believe that, or else why bother?”

  “Oh you’ve got it wrong. I don’t want to believe it, but I know. We’re only a few weeks into this. The feds are nowhere to be found, which I find amazing considering the president was pulling all of our troops from around the world. The Guard, which is supposed to be keeping order during a crisis, has decided that the only way to do this is to gun people down in the streets. In one of the largest cities on the planet, commerce has ground to a halt. Right now, I feel like the city is holding its breath like maybe hoping against hope that shit is going to normalize, but once they exhale and the ship hasn’t righted, this place is going to go down in flames and the rest of the country will follow.”