The Soldier

Even though Logan’s laptop was functioning, the GPS satellites that would have once allowed him to pinpoint his location were long gone. He surmised that maintaining them was not much of a priority in this new United States.

The map of the United States that he had was several decades old and still referred to cities, counties and landmarks that no longer existed. Logan was keeping track of where he thought they were by estimating the distance they covered each day supplemented by rudimentary sightings of stars at night.

By his crude reckoning, Logan felt the team had made it at least halfway to New York in the week since they had escaped from the South Carolina docking bay. Logan wasn’t sure if they had been lucky in avoiding any patrols or if whoever was in command of the docking bay decided to not send anyone in pursuit. Logan would not have been surprised at the latter. Someone under the thumb of an authoritarian regime would not have wanted to admit allowing the team to escape into the American wilderness. It would be much simpler to just sink the Morning Star and report it missing, without ever acknowledging that the ship had actually been allowed to dock with stowaways on board.

Logan turned the laptop off and closed the lid. He tried to use it as sparingly as possible. He had no idea when they would have a source of power available to recharge the batteries. The team was still following the remnants of Interstate 95 as it paralleled the coastline. As they continued north they had begun to see more evidence that something had gone terribly wrong since the United States shut itself off from the rest of the world.

In addition to I-95, the team had passed ruins of various cities and small towns, all abandoned to the elements and crumbling as the forest fought to regain what was taken from it at the initial founding and rapid expansion of American in 18th and 19th centuries.

The towns they passed had not shown any signs of destruction or attack. It looked as if the people had simply packed up and moved out. But to where, Logan pondered as he sat watching the campfire.

Initially, Logan and Caitlin agreed that a fire would be too risky, but after several days with no sign of anyone – friend or foe – they had allowed a fire and the cooked meals it allowed. On this night, their seventh in America, wild hog was on the spit above the fire. David and Willie were on kitchen detail. Logan watched as David cut a piece of meat with his knife and tasted it.

“Well, my friends, it’s not haute cuisine, but it seems to be ready,” he said.

Logan returned the laptop to his backpack, took out his mess kit and stood up. He wandered over to the fire, joining the others who were standing there as David carved off slabs of meat. Each team member picked up some fruits from a pile and returned to where they had been sitting.

Logan looked around as he returned to where he had been sitting. As the journey had progressed, it was becoming increasingly obvious that he had two distinct groups of people – his original team members and the Morning Star crew. He had hoped they would bond into one unit, but that wasn’t happening on its own, and he wasn’t exactly sure how to facilitate that goal. He certainly couldn’t take the time to stop their northward march for any sort of training or team building exercises. He only hoped that any obstacles they came up against wouldn’t be so difficult that the division wouldn’t pose too serious a problem.

Logan was just reaching for his canteen when something caught his ear. He paused, listening, trying to find it again, thinking his imagination was beginning to run away with him. Deciding it was nothing, he took a drink.

“You know, personally I prefer a cold beer with wild hog.”

Logan reached for his rifle and started to stand, only to find himself looking into the barrel of an AK-47. He looked around to find that each of his team was covered by the intruders, and that more were walking silently out of the forest.

“I really wouldn’t do that, friend,” said the newcomer, tall well-built man who spoke with the barest hint of a Southern accent. “We’ve been watching you, and if I’m right, you have nothing to fear from us.

“Besides,” he continued, “If we were Federal and wanted you dead, we wouldn’t be talking right now.”

“Fair enough,” Logan said as he placed his rifle on the ground and nodded to Willie and David to indicate they should play along. “So if you’re not federal, then why all the hardware?”

“Because we just need to make sure whose side y’all are on,” the man said with a smile.

The Americans disarmed all of Logan’s team and gathered them around the campfire. The leader pulled knife from a sheath strapped to his right thigh and cut himself a piece of hog.

“Hm, not bad,” he said. “You must have gotten a fairly young one. Once they pass three or so they get real tough and stringy.”

“Are you just here to critique our cooking, or will you do us the favor of telling us just who the hell you are?”

“Shortly,” the man said to Caitlin. “But first, I need to know why eight British citizens are camping out in America, and more importantly how the hell you got here and if you have a way back out.”

Logan looked at Caitlin who gave an almost imperceptible shrug in response to his unspoken question. With nothing really to lose, Logan turned back to the American.

“My name’s Marcus Logan. To make a long story short, I’m here to recover a computer chip agents from your government stole, pinning the theft on me.”

“Not my government, friend, it hasn’t been my government for a long time.”

The newcomer gave Logan a long look. He walked over to where the weapons were stacked and recovered Logan’s BAR. He checked to see that it was loaded, chambered a round and then walked over to where Logan sat and aimed directly at Logan’s head. Logan sat still, unmoving, keeping his eyes evenly fixed.

“Well, I’ve got a good feeling about you,” he said, then he deftly flipped the rifle over so he was holding it butt-first towards Logan. Logan immediately took the rifle and leaned it against the log he was sitting on, never taking his eyes off of the American.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Jonathan Kelley and me and my friends here comprise the West Virginia unit of the New American Minutemen.”

Logan stood.

“Minutemen? Wasn’t that the name of some of the American fighters during the Revolutionary war?”

“Very good,” Kelley said, “I’m surprised they still teach American history in the outside world.”

“They don’t, but when I embark on a mission I do my homework,” Logan said.

“Good policy,” Kelley said as he munched on the hog.

“You still haven’t told us who these minutemen of yours are.”

Kelly gave Logan a glance.

“All will be explained to you in good time, but I’m a bit jumpy out in the open. I suggest we relocate to a more secure area.”

Logan looked at each of his team members in turn, getting a slight nod from most, with the exception of a noncommittal shrug from Willie.

“All right, then, what did you have in mind?”

As they walked towards the Americans’ camp, Caitlin drifted to the back of the pack and fell into step with Willie.

“So,” she said without any preamble, “How do you think its going?”

Willie snorted.

“It’s going pretty damn horribly, it case you hadn’t noticed.”

He looked at Caitlin and then up at Logan near the front of the group.

“Not that there’s all that much we can do about it at this point, love, is there?”

“No, I don’t suppose that there is at that.”

The two walked on in silence for another few minutes.

“Let me ask you something,” Caitlin said.

“I’m listening.”

“Do you see any reason to try and continue the original mission? I mean, even if we can track down the original thieves, I don’t see any way to get out of here and back to England, do you?”

“No, there probably isn’t any way out,” he said. “But by the same token, what options do we have – set up housekeeping with our new American friends here? Personally, and I’m fully aware of the odds against it, I intend to keep working on a way out of this hell whole until someone is finally successful in putting a bullet in the back my head.”

After another few moments of silent walking, Willie looked at Caitlin carefully.

“But you aren’t just worried about the bloody mission, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” Caitlin said. “I’m worried about Logan specifically and us in general. I’m worried that he’s going to have another one of his flashbacks, or he’s just going to become to obsessed with this mission of his and make some bad decisions that affect us all. I don’t necessarily mind being stuck here, but I have a real strong objection to ending up dead for no good reason.”

“And his original mission was a good reason?”

“Well, it was for Queen and country and all that rot,” Caitlin said.

Willie laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant laugh.

“Queen and Country? You have got to be kidding me, love.”

“No, I’m not kidding,” Caitlin said,” for some of us, that expression still means something.”

“Well fine, then,” Willie said. “It may mean something to you, but not to me. I’m here because Logan is a friend, and I owed him one. A big one. That and it was a chance to go into action again. I was getting a bit bored sitting around old London town.”

Caitlin looked at Willie carefully.

“Whatever the reason, I’m just asking you to help me keep an eye on him, make sure he is on an even keel. So if there is any chance at all of us getting out of here with our skins intact, we can take full advantage of it.”

“Agreed,” Willie said simply. Without another word, Caitlin quickened her pace to rejoin Logan at the front of the group.

It was morning by the time Logan and his team reached the Americans’ stronghold -- such as it was. It was more than a campsite but somewhat less than a formal town. Most of the obvious dwelling units were cobbled together from sheets of scrap metal. There was obviously no power and the light from various lanterns and cook stoves flickered inside the makeshift structures.

As Logan and the others walked deeper into the enclave, small children began to run out to the group, running around them, laughing and giggling and occasionally grabbing at their legs. Logan smiled as one tow-headed youngster tugged on his sleeve.

“Candy?” the waif asked plaintively.

Not having much of sweet tooth himself, candy was the last thing Logan had thought to include among the team’s provisions.

“Sorry, lad, I’m afraid I don’t have any.”

The youngster shrugged and ran off to play with some of the other children.

Eventually Kelley halted before a somewhat larger structure in the center of the “Town.” He leaned his rifle against the building and stretched. The rest of his minutemen immediately shrugged off their packs as well.

Kelley knocked on the metal wall.

“Cassie come see what I found in the woods!”

A moment later, a tall brunette walked through the door, drying her hands on an apron tied around her waist. Logan could almost feel Willie and David’s attention perk up. He looked at the newcomer and nodded slightly.

“Madam,” he said.

Cassie walked over to Kelly.

“Are you sure this was a good idea? They might be Feds trying to infiltrate our unit.”

Johnathan nodded.

“Perhaps,” he said. “But if that’s true, they’ll be dead before they can report anything. Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to introduce Cassie Kelley. My second in command and my wife.”

Cassie walked down to Logan and looked him squarely in the eye.

“And you are?”

“Marcus Logan, Mrs. Kelley,” Logan said smoothly.

“Just call me Cassie.”

“And I’m Logan to my friends.”

“Friends Mr. Logan? That remains to be seen.”

Logan smiled grimly. This one was not to be trifled with.

Cassie Kelley walked slowly passed each member Logan’s team, looking at each one with a critical eye. Then she turned back to her husband.

“I’m still not sure.”

“C’mon darlin’, how often do you find eight Brits wandering around in the woods?”

“Actually, to be precise, I’m of Spanish ancestry and Caitlin here is Scottish.”

Logan shot Willie a warning glance which was immediately matched by a glare from the American.

“Close enough,” Kelley said.

Cassie looked over the group again and sighed.

“Well, regardless, all of you have been walking all night and are probably starving. I’ll fix something to eat.”

“That’s my girl,” Kelley said, giving Cassie an affectionate slap on the backside as she went into the house.

Kelly and Logan had been chatting amiably when Cassie brought out a tray with coffee pot and cups. The American poured some of the black beverage for Logan and himself. He sipped it and breathed in the aroma.

“Cassie sure knows how to make a cup of coffee,” he said.

Logan took a drink and nodded in agreement. Then he looked at Jon.

“Look here, Kelley, I’m confused as hell,” he said. “The way we hear it in England, things over here are all peachy. The proverbial streets of gold and all that. What the hell happened?”

Kelley chuckled grimly. “Well, that’s certainly the story the Federalists would want to keep maintained in the outside.”

“The outside?”

“That’s how we, at least those of us who would like to see The Wall come down, how we refer to the rest of the world. The Federalists, well, I don’t know how they refer to y’all. If it weren’t for the little bit of trade that they have to accept in order to survive, my bet is they would prefer to not have to deal with the outside at all – at least that’s what the original plan was.”

He paused for a sip of coffee.

“I assume you know the basics – the failed foreign policy initiatives starting with Bush and continuing on through McKenzie in 2034. That and the near trade wars with Mexico and Canada?”

Logan and several others in his team nodded. Logan was sure the form taught in history classes outside the United States wasn’t what Kelley knew, but he wagered it was close enough for the current discussion.

“Didn’t it all start with Trump in 2016, he first suggested a Wall between the US and Mexico as I recall.”

“True enough,” Kelley said, “But he never was elected and that idea died down as just another bit of political theater. But the isolationist movement began gaining momentum not long after. Some think it grew out of the Tea Party. They became more vocal – calling for completely cutting off the United States from the rest of the world.”

“It seems they were ultimately successful,” Logan observed dryly.

Kelley snorted. “Very observant of you.

“Anyway,” he continued, “They continued to gain power and in 2035 the first projects that became The Wall were started. So fast forward to 2085 when the last brick was in place and the defense systems went on-line.

“They tell us the hardships we deal with in the U.S. Are nothing compared to what’s going on in the rest of the world without our support – That all of this . . .”

Kelley waived his hand at the surrounding wilderness.

“Is the price we all must pay in order to be free of the ‘albatross around our neck that the rest of the world had become.’”

“Sounds like a bit of political propeganda if I’ve ever heard one,” Logan said as Kelley paused to drink some coffee.

“It is,” the American minuteman said. “It’s from one of McKenzie’s early speeches when he argued before Congress for passage of what became known as the McKenzie Doctrine. It was one piece of legislation that put the Isolationist philosophy into the Constitution and at the same time slashed literally thousands of programs to provide the funding to begin constructing that damned monstrosity.

“Cities fell into disrepair, death rates skyrocketed, but none of that mattered to the isolationists. They managed to convince everyone that the sacrifice was worth it and we would all be so much better off in the long run.”

He looked at the faces surrounding the fire.

“So, tell me, are we better off? Did the world fall into even worse ruin without the tender graces of the all-powerful United States to keep it on an even keel?”

The sarcasm in Kelley’s voice was almost painful to listen too.

“Well,” Logan began, “Although I would imagine you already suspected as such, the short answer is in the outside, while not wonderful, are relatively acceptable. Especially compared to what I’ve seen so far.”

Kelley sighed.

“I thought so.”

“Things did go downhill,” Logan said, “although not quite as much into the crapper as they seemed to over on this side of the Pond.”

“The Pond?” Kelley asked quizzically.

Logan chuckled.

“An old nickname for the Atlantic. But to get back to your question – the little bit of trade your Federalist government allows wasn’t enough to maintain the world’s economy so it too has slowed down. But it’s more like what I imagine it was during the Second World War, some shortages but basically OK.”

“So things are bad everywhere else, but worse here,” Kelley said.

“That pretty much sums it up,” Willie said. “But that leaves one question unanswered – how the hell do we get our arses out of here?”

“You don’t,” Kelley said simply.

Logan but a calming hand on Willie’s arm. He could sense his friend’s anger building.

“What the hell do you mean ‘we don’t’? No one ever built a prison that couldn’t be busted out of. You Yanks thought you did with Alcatraz, but even that nut was cracked. So don’t tell me no one has ever gotten out.”

“No one has ever gotten out,” Kelley said. “At least no one alive.”

Willie started to rise but Logan pulled him down.

“Right, well, we will just have to leave that little problem for later,” he said. “We came here to do a job and I intend to finish it.”

“The chip? The bloody chip? What the hell difference does that make, now?”

Logan looked at David.

“It makes a difference to me, and if we get out of here, I intend to bring the chip back with us to England.”

“Didn’t you hear the man?” David was almost screaming. “He said there was no bloody way out. So unless you’re planning to sprout wings and fly out of here, what the hell is the point of going after the chip? You still don’t know where it is, and the plan was to find the chip by hacking into their computer systems once we got over here, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t see any damned computers around for us to hack into, do you?”

David was breathing heavy, but obviously beginning to calm down some.

“Feel better, now?”

David looked at Logan.

“Actually, yes I do, thank you.”

Logan clapped David on the back.

“Don’t worry, my friend, I don’t plan on spending the rest of my life here. We are going to find a way back home. I just don’t exactly know how yet.”