Read The Apostates Online

Authors: Lars Teeney

The Apostates (63 page)

“Citizens of Ukiah: I hold in my hand a document that can guide this town to laying down the foundations of a democratic government, that abides by the original principles of the Founders. Using these guidelines, we can elect our government and rebuild a prosperous society, but we can do it right this time. We can live within our means; in a sustainable manner. In this document, I have outlined our first priorities as being setting up a food and water infrastructure, followed by fortifying the town and organizing a citizen militia. After these things are achieved I have spelled out a grander path for rebuilding an economy and an educational system that reflect secular, but moral values. My friends, I can’t guarantee that we will have a perfect and struggle-free future, but if we adopt my guidelines I promise that we have more of a chance of becoming a prosperous and peaceful, but also a strong society once more.” The courtroom erupted in applause and cheers. Ernest and the Judge Mathis took this as an overwhelming endorsement of his plan. Of course, the people would actually have to analyze what his guidelines proposed and there would be much debate to come.

Gertrude Greenbaum sat in the rows toward the back of the room. She partook in the standing ovation. She felt an overwhelming sense of pride being married to this man, and she had the sensation that they were on the cusp of creating something great in this point in history. She compared it to what the Founders must have felt at the first Continental Congress all those centuries ago, in a small backwater of an insignificant land.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

 

The Apostate militia had been trained to the best of Pride-Swarm’s ability. The new recruits had been trained and drilled on the basics of weapons handling and were giving physical conditioning regimens. They were still far inferior to any regular or L.O.V.E.R.s but, they would be able to hold a battle line if need dictated it. Pride-Swarm felt satisfied with the number of troops now available to him, however. His column marched along Route Seventy-six, east, out of Pittsburgh. Pride had determined their next target of liberation would be Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Pride did think it odd that they had not been attacked along the route, he would have thought that there would be more of a Regime defense.

He rode in the back of a captured Regime A.P.C. where he formulated battle plans and attempted to raise other members of sleeper cells across the region, which had assisted in rousing uprisings among the Bagger populations, that after the Pilgrimage had been sequestered to squalid camps, awaiting the B.A.G. to begin. There were not as many responses as he had hoped. As he gathered intelligence, he had learned a Regime force was shadowing his movements to the south, and it grew as his force had grown. There were rumors that a high-level Church official was leading the Regime force. This relieved Prides worries quite a bit. He figured that some Church hack wanting to play conquering hero would be easy defeated. Pride did think it was odd that the Regime did not send Keir Schrubb or Inquisitor Rodrigo to lead their forces. Pride thought that they may be overstretched and this was the best they had to offer for the challenge that Prides force represented.

Pride decided he would take a stroll and inspect the morale of the marching troops, so he exited out the back of the hydraulic ramp of the A.P.C. Stepping down he walked in the opposite direction to the advancing troops, formed up in the column. He smiled and nodded as he met each soldier’s face, they saluted in return. From what he could gauge the men and women seemed to be in good spirits so far.

“It’s the Reverend everyone: a message from the Reverend Wilhelm!” a man shouted, somewhere from the column.

“The Reverend! He’s appearing to us!” another voice called out. The column halted as men and women focused in on their retinal H.U.D.s, to witness what the Reverend was about to say. Pride was disconcerted, he and his officers were not connected to the [Virtue-net] so he could not hear first hand the Reverend’s broadcast. Some men among the column began to exclaim with shouts of, “Hallelujah!” and “Praise Jesus!”. A number of men and women dropped to their knees and folded their hands in prayer; their faces pointed skyward. Several more minutes passed. Pride paced back and forth to watch the faces and expressions of his militia, trying to assess the situation. Some men just stood at attention, silently. Although in the column other troops had an entirely different reaction to the Reverend’s broadcast.

“Run fellow believers! Join the Virtuous at the Born Again Gathering! To be saved!” A number of men dropped their weapons and scrambled in various directions away from the column, running indiscriminately. Some entered fields or ran down adjacent roads and allies. Some men and women just remained on their knees or lay upon the dirt. And yet, a number left the main column and formed an opposing line; they seemed to be organizing themselves. This was the language that Pride spoke; the language of war. They were forming a firing line. Apostates, form companies and prepare to fire! Pride ordered the men who were not affected by the Reverends words, formed up in companies and prepared to fire at the hastily formed opposition. Pride sent a message to his more experienced officers who reacted with instinctual responses.

“Death to Apostates! Glory be to the Lord and Savior: Jesus Christ!” The men affected by the Reverend’s broadcast brought the weapons to bear and took aim. Shots rang out, and the men began dropping. The Apostate militia officers calmly picked off men at leisure. Then the main body of the Apostate militia fired at the Faithful, yet more of their number fell. The buckling line of impromptu Regime supporters thinned out but returned fire. Some of the Apostate militia fell. And yet another volley of deadly fire was offered that routed the Regime Faithful. The remaining men and women dropped their weapons and turned tail. Pride ordered a cease-fire and let them run. They were not professional soldiers and would not return.

The militia ranks reformed into a column and took some time to reorganize. Pride walked the length of the column and assessed his losses. He cursed to himself. The militia had lost a third of its original number.

“Fuck it,” Pride stated. He figured that this event was a type of blessing in disguise. The uncommitted and Regime supporters had now been weeded out of their ranks. So, after a time, the column was on its way again, advancing at a steady pace.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

 

THE FIRST WOE

 

The bruised and battered remnants of the
Apostate fleet entered the Chesapeake Bay, easily destroying the meager vessels
that defended it with their battleships. A land-based attack on the Capital
from the south was deemed suicidal because Regime forces shined at warfare on land.
The Capital had been fortified by regular forces, with armor stationed all
around the perimeter of New Megiddo City. The best approach was determined to
be by sea. Gale-Whirlwind, Hades-Perdition, Ravine-Gulch and Angel-Seraphim
along with the captains of the surviving battleships had gathered in the
wardroom aboard the North Carolina.

“I believe the best use of the battleships
is to shell the city and it’s defenses from the Chesapeake. We can provide
cover fire for the landing parties,” Gale-Whirlwind put forward the suggestion.
The captains all agreed with her. They were impressed by here natural
propensity for naval tactics.

“Sounds like a plan. That leaves Angel-Seraphim, Ravine-Gulch and I are to lead the landing parties ashore. Graham Wynham, wherever the hell he is, had informed us that sleeper agents have been active for some time all over New Megiddo. They have been working to foster rebellion and uprisings among the “Bagger” populations. Based on initial reports from some of these agents, it seems that many of these uprisings have resulted in success; others, not so much. Many have been stamped out by the Regime. So, it’s really difficult to tell exactly how much support we can link-up with once ashore.” Hades was cautiously optimistic that the people had met enough suffering by the Regime’s hand that they would get support.

“Okay, this plan is pretty straight
forward. I can follow it,” Ravine stated.

“Yes, I am also behind it,” Angel
confirmed.

“Also, once we have established a foothold within the Capital, I need to warn you all that I must go after the Inquisitor Rodrigo myself. With him alive, the Regime will always a threat. When I take my leave, Ravine and Angel will be the Apostates in charge of refugee collection and processing efforts,” Hades explained.

“I guess if it’s that crucial, be my guest.” Ravine had thought about his own tasks that lay ahead, and a mystery he needed to solve. He was now galvanized to see it through, especially since his best friend had been taken from him in the effort to defeat the Church and Regime of New Megiddo. Losing Blaze had been an event that made him yearn for the conclusion to this sad, sorry affair that much sooner. He gazed upon Gale-Whirlwind from across the room and a wave of morose overtook him.

“Okay, I would like to see some action! I have been pent up on these boats since Jamaica! Let us stretch our legs, and spill Regime blood.” Angel was anything but an angel, at that moment. She had been training with “the Spear of Destiny” since she picked it up off the Monsignor’s cold, dead body in Panama. Angel felt it was time to test her skill with this plasma-powered weapon.

“Well then, ladies and gentlemen: let’s get to it. I just wanted to let you all know, that it has been a pleasure traveling and fighting with you. I know we have had our differences and we all have our own reasons to fight, but we share a common cause. It could very well be that many of us will not survive this day, and I may never see some of you again, but, if a sacrifice is to be made today, let me tell you that there is no more worthy cause than to reclaim our country; our home, that used to be “Of the People, By the People”. Good luck to you all!” With that Hades left the room in some urgency.

“You heard the man: let’s get this operation underway. Captains to your vessels!” Gale shouted orders like a true admiral. The captains of the battleships scrambled. Ravine and Angel also rushed out of the wardroom to meet up with sailors and soldiers that had been assembled as landing forces. They waited on the sealift ships, behind the battleship picket line.

Ravine felt a huge relief that the endgame
was now starting. He was all geared up and ready to go. Within his pack, was
the remaining two doses of ‘Database’ that he had been told by Graham, were the
key to his destiny. So, he went forward with the desire for answers fueling
him.

“Ravine!” He turned to find Gale had
called his name. He stopped and she approached.

“Greta,” he called her by her given name.

“Marco,” she returned the favor.

“Come back to me in one piece.” She kissed
him, and he returned that favor as well. In that instant his heart sank,
because of what he knew.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

 

Graham’s body clung to life, but just
barely. He had been brutalized by the Inquisitor’s junior officers and now he
was in a coma. Inquisitor Rodrigo looked at his maimed face. Graham was of no
further value to him in this state. It was time to extract the man’s neural implant to
see if it yielded any intelligence. The Inquisitor ordered his aides to
unshackle the limp body of Graham Wynham.

“Ranger, take this man to the infirmary
and instruct the head surgeon that he is to have his neural implant removed for
data processing. Also, please inform the Head Ranger Erickson that he is in
charge here. I have urgent business to attend to.” The Ranger saluted the
Inquisitor, and then took his leave. Inquisitor Rodrigo made his way to the
underground garage below the Ministry of State Security building, which, was
several levels above his current position. Two Rangers, who doubled as bodyguards,
accompanied him on the lift to retrieve his A.P.C.

Soon the three L.O.V.E. agents boarded the
A.P.C. and started on their way up the ramps toward street level. Inquisitor
Rodrigo settled into the cushy vehicle for the journey.

“Inquisitor, sir, what is our
destination?” the driver inquired via his neural implant.

“Annapolis, Maryland: the residence of the
Minister of State Security, Kate Schrubb,” The Inquisitor informed the driver.

“Sir, are you certain?” the driver was
puzzled.

“Quite so. I have to inquire about
something,” Rodrigo announced.

⍟ ⍟ ⍟

 

The battleships in the Apostate picket line opened fire. A thunderous barrage was brought to bear on the meager shore defenses of New Megiddo City. There had been artillery pieces put into place and Regime tanks that fired out toward the ships, but the caliber of these weapons was only suitable to inflict superficial wounds to the Apostate fleet. The shells fired from the fleet landed with explosive force, tearing into the defenders tasked with preventing the Apostates from coming ashore. The once silent waterfront of New Megiddo city was now alight with the bonfires of destruction. Further back behind the battleship picket line, the landing forces descended the rope ladders that lead them down to their landing craft, which was little more that a hodge-podge of motorboats, fishing trawlers, tugboats, row boats, and some legitimate amphibious landing craft. The awkward flotilla filled with bodies; meat to be flung toward the grinder of a city.

Ravine-Gulch waited within a crowded landing craft. Not far from him, several boats away was Angel-Seraphim, and in a neighboring craft was Hades-Perdition. Whistles were blown from the weather decks of the various cargo and logistics ships, that signaled the first wave of landing craft to proceed. It was the motorized vessels that were sent forward first because they were faster than rowing craft. The Apostate members were situated in the few amphibious landing craft in their possession. They were off: cutting through the choppy waters of the bay. Overhead the arcing shells of the battleship’s salvos flew. In the distance, their impacts were made obvious by the huge explosions created in their wake.

The landing craft crossed the threshold of the battleship picket line. The towering, gray, beasts spewed forth their fiery breath and shook the surrounding waters. The assault troops among the landing craft had to cover their ears for fear of going deaf. As the motorized landing craft moved closer to shore, the second wave of ore-powered boats were given the order to advance. These vessels moved slowly but surely to the rhythm of chants and muscles driving them forward.

Then all hell broke loose: the shore opened up with a withering hail of mortars, small arms, and artillery fire, which peppered the surrounding waters of the advancing landing craft. Columns of water were sent upwards as the shells struck the surface of the bay. One mortar scored a direct hit on an amphibious landing craft, sending up into the air, an assortment of shrapnel and shredded human parts, like a macabre, tossed salad. Ravine-Gulch ducked his head down after the side of the landing craft was raked by machine gun fire. With weight pressing against him, when he looked up he was met with a body possessing a bloody stump, with a hint of spine peeking through. He pushed the body off of him and peered over the top of the vessel. The shoreline was approaching fast.

“Get ready for disembarkation! We’re nearly at the beach!” Ravine yelled loudly to the panicked faces of the men around him. They stiffened up and checked their gear, bringing their guns to the ready. The amphibious landing craft hit a sandy portion of the beach, and from there was supported by treads, which carried it forward over the white sand. The landing craft took up a position behind a cement sea wall, and the armored hydraulic ramp dropped down to let the soldiers contained within spill out and take up defensive positions along the tidal wall. Ravine kept low behind the wall. He could hear the rounds ricocheting off the top of the tidal wall, and mortar rounds were exploded on the beach, shooting sand into the air.

“Angel! Hades! Have you two made it onto
the beach?” he pinged both of them via his neural implant.

“I’m here, but the soldiers under my command have taken heavy casualties,” Angel reported in.

“I too am also on the beach, with a
similar situation,” Hades also reported in.

“Well, we should order a general assault
and get off this beach!” Ravine suggested.

“Yes, let us end this so that we can get
to the Divinity Center of the Capital!” Hades exclaimed. The three Apostates ordered their
respective companies forward. Soldiers jumped the sea wall at three separate
locations. The Regime machine gunners and mortars were ready for the Apostate
soldiers who jumped up over the sea wall. A barrage was let loose from
concealed points among the rubble and wreckage that the battleships cannonade
had created. Men and women in the first attack wave were cut down by the
half-dozen. The soldiers were forced to take cover behind any object available
that offered asylum from the onslaught, be it car body, dumpster, brick pile,
or collapsed building. They were pinned down as it were.

“Hold tight. I’m going to try to gain some elevation.” Hades-Perdition did not elaborate. The others held their positions. Hades peeled off from the main body, toward the hollow shell of a gutted apartment building. He climbed up caved-in flooring, twisted rebar, and exposed timber framing, lugging his M82 strapped to his back, and the weight of his claymore. At last he reached the crest of the collapsed roof and took up a concealed position at the edge. Hades brought his M82 sniper rifle to bear and peered through the scope. As he scanned the rubble where he believed the concealed machine gun nests were placed, he could see the orange tracers of the bullets shot by the guns. His thermal scope wouldn’t work in the heat of the day, so he had to estimate the positions of the gun crews.

From his satchel, Hades pulled a magazine
loaded with armor-piercing, explosive rounds, then he loaded and prepared to fire. He
controlled his breathing, then placed a round into a pile of rubble that
concealed the gun crew. He could see through the scope that the round
penetrated the pile of rubble. There was a secondary shock wave that he
observed through the scope. Then, the gun was silent.

“Angel-Seraphim your way is clear,
advance! Advance!” Hades exclaimed.

Angel ordered her company forward. The mortar rounds still reigned down at random. A few unlucky men were claimed by the indiscriminate shells. Angel withdrew the spear and extended the shaft, and ignited the plasma blade at the tip. Brandishing it, she and her men poured through the breach that Hades had created. Her force was met by Regime regular troops, who took potshots at the advancing Apostates, and still they kept coming. The fighting become up close and personal; fought with rifle stock, sidearm, knife, and bayonet. Two regulars charged at Angel, recognizing her as a high-value target. She stabbed at the two men with the spear point, forcing them to a halt. The two men circled her position, as they both looked for an opening. They brandishing daggers threateningly. A mortar round startled them all: going off too close for the comfort for any of them.

Angel took the initiative and used the
opening to attack, thrusting the plasma blade clean through one solder’s neck. The blade hissed with fleshy fuel for the fire. The other soldier attempted to
attack her from behind, and yelled something about avenging his friend. She drove
the butt end of the shaft into the man’s jaw. When the man realized that his jaw was fractured, he panicked and ran off in the opposite
direction toward his lines. Angel thought that the man might meet a worse fate
among his superior officers for cowardice, rather than dying by her spear.

Once Hades had taken all the opportunities that came to him to clear the front line of defensive positions with his sniper rifle, the rest of the Apostate forces overran the waterfront district. Ravine’s force advanced up the left flank, Angel took the center, while Hades’s force advanced on the right. After some sporadic fighting, they had secured a sizeable beachhead, clearing the last pockets of resistance and knocking out the artillery pieces that threatened the landing craft.

The three Apostates met up in the shadow of a half-standing sky-tower, to plan their next moves. The second wave of troops landed on the beaches. Dinghies and rowboats delivered their precious cargo to the sandy shores.

“Great job. I suppose with things under
control here it means I should take my leave. I can move faster alone. Ravine—Angel—I’ll leave the assault to you two. Good luck!” Hades informed them.

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