Dispatches (13 page)

“Who’s ‘they’?” asked Alex. “The state government?”

Ryan detected an angry tone, which wouldn’t help their situation. He hoped Ken intervened before his dad’s tone became overtly hostile.

“Technically the Maine Independence Initiative,” said the sergeant. “It’s being led by the governor’s office.”

“Independence from what?” asked Alex in an increasingly exasperated tone.

Ken’s hand slowly reached out to touch his shoulder.

“We’ve been cut off from any communications for most of the winter,” explained Ken.

“The state has declared independence from the RRZ. The governor issued a formal declaration several days ago,” said the sergeant.

“Secession from the United States?”

“I didn’t hear the specifics of the declaration, but I’m pretty sure it was aimed specifically at the RRZ, not the U.S. government,” said the sergeant.

“There’s no difference at this point,” Alex said, rubbing his face with his hands before continuing. “What is your chain of command now?”

“It hasn’t changed. We take orders from the governor,” said the sergeant.

“Dad, maybe we should get going. Fishing might take up most of the day,” said Ryan, hoping his dad didn’t take the discussion where he thought it might go.

“Hold on, Ryan,” said his dad. “But your unit was given specific Category Five Response tasking, right? That put you under federal control from the beginning.”

He sounded genuinely curious asking the question, the confrontational tone gone.

“I’ve never heard of this Category Five response,” said the sergeant. “We got our orders from the governor.”

“Your commanding officer never mentioned the battalion’s assignment under the National Recovery Plan? Which battalion are you with?”

“3
^rd
Battalion, 172
^nd
Infantry Regiment. National Guard,” answered the sergeant. “The battalion CO was on vacation out west when the EMP hit.”

“What about the XO?”

“The XO is presumed dead based on confirmed reports.”

Alex shook his head slowly, muttering under his breath for a moment.

“Did anyone issue new equipment to the battalion after the EMP? Weapons, vehicles, communications gear?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. Sorry to have bothered you.”

“No problem. Ex-military?”

“Marine Corps. Many years ago.”

“Thought you might have served. We’re recruiting ex-military folks for a new battalion. Governor Dague authorized the formation of a second battalion based out of Augusta.”

“I’m getting a little old for that kind of work, but I appreciate the offer.”

“If you change your mind, we’ll have a recruiting station set up in Waterville,” said the sergeant.

“Well, good luck,” Alex said, backing the rest of the way into the road. “Sergeant?” he yelled through Ken’s window.

“Yeah?”

“What caused the governor to make the declaration now? She resisted the RRZ from the very start.”

The soldier stared at the car quizzically.

Shit. Dad blew it.

“I don’t understand,” said the sergeant, snaking his right hand toward the rifle’s pistol grip.

“We left the Portland area to stay with friends near Waterville because we heard rumors on the HAM radio about disagreements between the state and the RRZ. We didn’t want to get caught in the middle of it. Sounds like something happened?”

The soldier’s hand stopped moving. “Everything was stable until the RRZ sent a convoy of Marines to take the marine terminal in Searsport,” said the sergeant. “No offense to your Marines. They were probably just following orders.”

“They took over the terminal?”

“Not really. They reached a joint security arrangement with my battalion. Governor Dague wasn’t happy. She’s not waiting for the rest of the RRZ’s security forces to show up and secure the rest of the state.”

“Do you know how many soldiers and Marines the RRZ has in southern Maine?”

“Negative. We let the officers and the governor’s people worry about that,” joked the sergeant. “Right?”

The specialist nodded. “We just do what we’re told. Keeps us fed and out of trouble.”

“They have a battalion of Marines and a full brigade of soldiers from the 10
^th
Mountain Division. They’re driving around in the latest generation Strykers and JLTVs, not to mention Black Hawk helicopters and Little Birds,” Alex told them. “I’m extremely worried about the governor’s declaration. If she escalates this, trouble will find all of us. Take care, gentlemen.”

The SUV accelerated down the middle of the two-lane road before the soldiers could respond. Ryan watched the soldiers walk toward the road, half expecting them to step into the road and fire at them. He reached into the foot well and yanked on the rifle butt to loosen it from its hiding place under Ken’s seat.

“Careful with that thing. I don’t want you blowing my foot off,” said Ken. “And what was that about, Captain? You trying to get us detained?”

Alex stared straight ahead.

“Earth to the captain,” said Ken.

“Dad,” added Ryan.

Alex swung his head toward Ryan, a distant, worried look on his face. “Sorry, I was thinking,” he muttered, adding words Ryan couldn’t hear before turning back to the road.

Ken looked back at Ryan, raising an eyebrow. Ryan shrugged his shoulders and mouthed, “It’s okay,” which seemed to ease Mr. Woods’ concerns, because he faced forward. A few moments of silence passed before his dad spoke.

“Two things. 3
^rd
Battalion, 172
^nd
Infantry Regiment never received their Category Five Response plan load out, which means battalion leadership never saw the orders placing them under federal control.”

“All of the other Guard units would have opened their federal orders,” said Ryan. “They would have figured it out eventually.”

“Without specific orders putting them under federal control, they’d have to follow the governor’s orders. They’re the only battalion-sized combat unit stationed in Maine, so I wonder if the other units up here just fell in line with 3
^rd
Battalion.”

“What does it matter?” Ken asked.

“It matters because the governor has control of an entire battalion of soldiers, which has probably emboldened her to make some dangerous decisions. Squaring off against the RRZ is at the top of the list. And now she’s trying to create another battalion? Nothing good will come from that.”

“It’ll probably end up looking like a civil defense group. More symbolic than anything,” said Ken.

“I hope so,” said Alex, glancing at Ryan in the rearview mirror.

He stared at Ryan and briefly shook his head. The topic was closed, and Ryan knew why. Elements of 3
^rd
Battalion, 172
^nd
Regiment never accessed their Cat Five load out. Somewhere near Brewer, Maine, a battalion-sized cache of weapons and equipment was waiting to be discovered.

“Mr. Woods, were you just making that up about the trout fishing?” Ryan asked.

“I never lie about fishing or beer, son,” replied Ken, causing them to laugh.

“What do you think, Dad?”

“About the beer or the fishing?”

“The fishing,” Ryan said, thinking more about the beer.

“Why don’t we find a nice quiet spot on the other side of the Kennebec. One of those smaller streams I was telling you about this morning. Even if we don’t catch anything, we’ll take care of those beers,” said Ken.

“Works for me,” said Alex.

“What about the police on the bridge?” Ryan questioned.

“We’ll tell them we got sent back by the National Guard.”

Ryan felt uneasy about his dad’s sudden shift in focus. He hadn’t said a word about the fact that they hadn’t acquired any additional seeds to expand the gardens. The seeds had been critical to their plan for staying on the lake with the Walkers and Thorntons. He’d overheard his parents arguing about the dangers of making the trip. His dad had been hell-bent on the idea that they needed more seeds to survive, gaining his mom’s reluctant approval. Now the seeds were forgotten, pushed aside by the news of the governor’s declaration and the revelation that a battalion-sized supply cache sat untouched—less than an hour away.

No way. His dad couldn’t possibly be thinking about—

Ryan
looked at the rearview mirror and saw his dad watching him. They stared at each other, communicating without speaking for several moments, before his dad winked.

Shit. He
was
thinking about it.

Chapter 22

Belgrade, Maine

The muffled sound of a vehicle engine carried across the backyard, drawing Kate’s attention away from the task of filling the buckets. She walked to the shore and hopped off the dock onto the matted grass. A quick glimpse of the silver BMW confirmed that Alex had returned. The buckets could wait. She headed for the deck, expecting to catch him inside, but he appeared at the side of the house before she reached the stairs.

“Need some help?” he asked, a serious look indicating she should answer “yes.”

“I don’t need any help, but I’ll gladly take some,” she said, eliciting no grin or change to his solemn façade.

She grabbed his hand and they strolled slowly across the backyard.

“What happened? No seeds?” she said.

“No seeds,” he said, squeezing her hand. “But that’s the least of our problems. I’ll check on the boat tomorrow—see if I can find a few clearly abandoned boats we can provision for anyone else that wants to leave.”

She stopped them. “Alex, you’re scaring me. What’s—”

“Let’s keep walking. I don’t want to alarm my parents or the kids,” said Alex.

“I’ll start walking when you start telling me what’s wrong,” said Kate.

“The governor of Maine essentially seceded from the United States,” he said, pulling her hand.

Kate let herself move forward, wondering how much of his statement was melodrama.

“I’m sure it’s just a symbolic protest,” she said. “It’s not like the state can untangle itself from the RRZ.”

“It’s trying. Johnny’s Seeds no longer sells seeds to the public. They joined the Maine Independence Initiative, which means everything they produce goes to the state—outside of the RRZ.”

“Sounds a little odd, but overall it should benefit the state,” she said.

“Johnny’s Seeds was guarded by soldiers from 3
^rd
Battalion, 172
^nd
Infantry Regiment, a National Guard unit under state control. I’m wondering if Johnny’s participation was voluntary,” said Alex.

“I thought the RRZ controlled all of the National Guard units?” said Kate, starting to understand why her husband looked despondent.

“So did I, until about two hours ago.”

“Where have you guys been for two hours?”

“Fishing and drinking,” Alex said.

“I thought I smelled stale beer,” Kate said, shaking her head. “Where’s Ryan?”

“Over at the Thorntons’,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Chloe.”

“That’s another issue,” she said.

Ryan and Chloe’s relationship had intensified during the fall, to the point where Alex and Kate decided they needed to revisit the topic of sex, focusing on the consequences of an unexpected pregnancy in their new surroundings. They had no confirmation of sexual contact, but the two of them frequently disappeared—last seen holding hands on one of the docks or walking into the forest next to their house. The absolute last thing they needed right now was a pregnancy.

“Don’t remind me. I was hoping it might have cooled off over the winter, but apparently that wasn’t the case,” said Alex. “It’s going to make leaving here extremely complicated.”

“We don’t have to leave,” said Kate.

“The governor is trying to form another battalion. They’re recruiting all over northern and central Maine. This isn’t going to be a Salvation Army battalion,” he said, continuing before she could respond.

“Medina and her RRZ cronies will come down hard on Governor Dague. I wouldn’t count out a military response—at the very least they’ll seize key facilities and assets. They’ve already moved Marines up to Searsport.”

“When did that happen?”

“Recently. Supposedly, that’s what prompted the governor to sign her own death warrant,” said Alex.

“Don’t talk like that,” Kate said, shaking her head. “They’re not going to kill her.”

“No, but she’s skating on thin ice pulling something like this while the National Recovery Plan is still active. The Insurrection Act could be turned around and used against her, especially if an entire National Guard battalion has sided against the federal government. I wouldn’t be surprised to wake up one morning and discover that an additional brigade of 10
^th
Mountain Division soldiers arrived during the night,” said Alex.

“More soldiers might not be a bad thing,” she offered.

“Not if the people up here are perceived as sympathetic with the Maine Independence Initiative. The soldiers wouldn’t be here to usher in a new era of hope and recovery.”

“No need to get shitty,” Kate said, jumping onto the dock, which swayed underneath her.

“Sorry,” Alex said, joining her.

He nestled against her back and put his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly against him, pressing his forehead against the back of her head.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you more,” said Kate, taking a deep breath and relaxing in his embrace.

They stayed that way for a few minutes, breathing in synch.

“Is there any way we can stay?” she asked.

Alex hesitated to answer. “I don’t see how. We don’t have enough seeds to support this many people, even if everything goes right with the harvest. The lakes have been depleted of most fish. I don’t think the Maine Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife will be stocking the lakes this spring.”