One Hundred Years: Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Dead Man Walking

Five years ago...
July 15th, 2115  

Devlin and Simpson walked along the edge of the perimeter. Simpson had an AK-47 assault rifle in his hands as he walked beside Devlin, and Devlin couldn't help but notice how jumpy Simpson was by the way he turned at every sound.

"It's the damn tribal's fault all of this is happening." Simpson said abruptly.

Devlin turned to look at his patrol partner. He was quiet for a moment as he thought Simpson's statement over.

"If they didn't live like animals, and like living like animals, we wouldn't be having this kind of problem."

Devlin nodded without saying anything and kept his eyes on the trees, watching for movement.

"It took us ten thousand years to drag ourselves up from the slime to a state of real civilization. And all it takes is a few hippies to break thousands of years of work. And here they are still fighting as we try to make things right again. Damn them!"

Devlin nodded and then turned back to Simpson, "It's been almost one hundred years since the collapse. People get by as they can, and they get used it. Of course they aren't going to want to change. Yes, civilization is better, but they couldn't know that, there isn't a person alive today who was alive when things collapsed. So how would they know how good things were?"

Simpson shook his head, "I heard a rumor. These little puss mongers we're dealing with right now are supposed to be from the Redwing Tribe. The story goes that there actually is an old man in the Redwing Tribe who was born in the year of the collapse. So that means they do know and the choose to throw it away. I hate that so much I can't stand it."

"You heard a rumor man. Nothing solid, its probably a fairy tale that the tribe uses to impress other tribals and make it seem like they know what they're talking about. People are frightened easily and resist change. It doesn't matter how good that change is, or how bad they need that change, people resist change. People became tribals when things collapsed, because it was how they could survive. Now they're good at it and don't what to change."

"What? Are you on they're side?" Simpson asked.

"No. I'm not on their side. I'm just pointing out that people are stupid and don't like to change. Some people are able to change, but most of them are lazy pieces of crap. They get good at wallowing in the mud and so they don't want to change. Progress is 'unnatural' or 'against god' or 'against nature'. It pisses me off, coal and uranium came from nature just as much as trees and butterflies did. So no, I'm not on their side. I just don't see the point in getting mad about it. These people like living in the mud, because they've gotten good at it. You know humans can do better. I know humans can do better, I just don't expect them to know humans can do better. So we have to go to war against them. We have to drag them back into civilization. This generation is a lost cause, we're not going to save them or civilize them or convince them. We build this despite them, and the next generation - their children- will understand. We do this right and their children will be civilized. They'll understand what their parents wouldn't."

"That isn't going to work. You remember the wars against the Indians from our history lessons? They kept fighting and protesting and complaining all through the golden age, generations after they lost and generations after we civilized them. We gave them paradise and they wouldn't stop complaining. To be honest, I don't know why we're even keeping them alive."

Devlin turned back to watch the tree line as answered Simpson.

"Because we're the good guys Simpson. We're bringing light to a nation that was thrown into darkness. We're going to have to do a lot of awful things in this generation, because there's no other way, but next generation will be better for it. We are the good guys, because nobody else has the guts to do what has to be done to rebuild civilization."

Simpson didn't answer.

Devlin turned around to look back at Simpson, but Simpson was gone. Devlin dropped to the ground, looking under the brush, looking for feet moving or tracks in the ground and listening for the sound a large animal passing through the vegetation.

Devlin heard nothing out of the ordinary. There was wind passing across the tops of the tress in intermittent gusts. He could hear the sounds of small animals moving our of sight, but none of the shuffling sounds were of enough vegetation to be the sound of human, much less two humans. He heard a crow in the distance and the sounds of a few song birds.

No sounds.

Tracks. Devlin could see the tracks. There had been two of them. He wasn't the tracker that the elite Winter Wolves were, but Devlin could see two sets of moccasin tracks beside Simpson's boot prints. They had come upon him from either side- probably while Devlin was lecturing- and had done something quick and nasty. The tracks showed to two people with moccasins had dragged Simpson for a few steps and then one of them had lifted Simpson's feet, because the boot prints disappeared after a short period where they left dragging trails in the dirt.

Devlin cursed silently. These guys were scary efficient. They had grabbed Simpson using Devlin's own speech as a cover for the sound of their movements. They had taken Simpson out of the fight without letting him cry out or resist at all. They had probably drugged him, or maybe put a knife into his lung from behind to prevent an alarm cry. They knew when to move and how to hide their sound amongst the ambient noise of the woods. They were too good. They were beyond Devlin's ability, he knew that. Devlin knew he should go for help, call for back up.

But Devlin knew that it was his fault that Simpson was caught and probably dead. There was a member of the Winters family in command here, and Dolf Winters did not look kindly upon failure. Devlin knew he would be punished for letting Simpson die. Devlin also knew he would probably die if he followed Simpson and his captors. But Simpson had been Devlin's responsibility, and Devlin was loyal.

"We're not animals Simpson. We're civilized men, and we don't leave our men behind." Devlin spoke just above a whisper. He closed his eyes for a moment, and got comfortable with the idea that he was a dead man walking.

"Command this is Private Preston Devlin 1126, Simpson is gone. We were checking in opposite directions and when I turned back towards him he was gone. I have a lead on fresh tracks. I will mark the point where the tracks start, and I am going after my partner. Over."

Devlin pulled a bright pink roll of marker tape and tied bows around trees around the tracks.

"Copy that Devlin. Do not proceed. Wait for back up. Over."

Devlin shook his head, "Command, this is Devlin. I did not copy that last message. I need to move now in order to have a chance at catching up with my partner, so I will assume that I have a go on my proposed plan. I am now entering radio silence. Devlin out."

If he survived, Devlin knew he was receive a reprimand for this. But if he survived it would be because he had succeeded in some measure and so the reprimand would be mixed with accolades as well. Better than what he would face for letting Simpson get killed.

He would probably die. These tribals were indeed talented at what they did. But Devlin was a warrior in his heart. If he had to die to bring a better world into existence, then so be it. He would not stand by idly while these savages tore chunks out of this infant civilization.

Devlin slid his shotgun back into its sheath on his back and drew out his Beretta pistol- smaller with less of a profile to give him away as he tracked. Devlin studied the initial tracks and then looked ahead trying to gauge where his enemies had taken Simpson. Once he thought he had an idea, Devlin set off carefully to the northwest. He kept his eyes up, glancing down every three meters to verify that he still had the tracks. Two men carrying another man left deep tracks, even skilled men in moccasins. He would be able to follow them.

Six meters behind him Nugget followed silently, moving when the winds gusted, watching Devlin's progress like a starving wild dog.