The Caliphate Invasion Page 21

  There must have been thousands of people milling about, but that wasn’t enough to fill up a fraction of the floor space. Kat’s gaze drifted to the far end of the concourse, which lay exposed to the open air. She gasped at a familiar, twelve-meter high black structure outside. The cube rested in the middle of a small courtyard. The hall wrapped around the courtyard and stretched forever. Kat whistled and dipped her brow at the cube. Hundreds of people marched in solemn circles around it while chanting something.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  Sakura lowered her eyes. “Yes, that’s the Kaaba itself. The holiest site in all of Islam. Welcome to Masjid al-Haram. The largest mosque in the world and now the largest slave camp imaginable. What do you Americans say? You’re not in New York anymore.”

  “It’s ‘not in Kansas anymore,’ but…” Kat stepped forward. Sakura held her back.

  “I wouldn’t get so close. The guards don’t play by any rules. They do whatever they like, and they do like white girls.”

  “Girls?” Kat studied the crowd in earnest. There were upteen thousands of women of every race and color milling about and chattering in a million languages. Plenty of young children clustered around them, but there wasn’t a single post-pubescent male or old woman for as far as she could see.

  That wasn’t quite right. Four bearded men, armed with the same alien hand-me-down weapons as in Raqqa, came out of a side door and ran up to the Kaaba. They raised an all-too familiar black flag that had fallen down and screamed in Arabic. While one of them climbed a ladder and rehung their flag, the others grabbed three random women from the panicked mob.

  Sakura set her jaw and turned around as one of the ISIS fighters raised a scimitar. “Let’s move out of sight. Once they start with the beheadings, they have a habit of getting carried away.”

  She led Kat down a different hallway. This one opened into a well-lit shopping mall. The stores were barren, but the rest of the place was spotlessly clean. “This is surreal.”

  Sakura ignored her and skidded to a stop in front of a small café full of women sipping tea. She chatted up another Japanese girl in their native tongue for a minute. The new person in turn blabbered in a different language to some other Asian woman. They continued passing the message along in different lingoes throughout southern Asia until the Egyptian woman at the counter finally nodded. The tea maker looked Kat up and down. With a sneer, she reached underneath the register.

  Kat tensed and was about to dive for cover when the shopkeeper removed a plastic shopping bag and tossed it at her feet.

  Sakura nudged Kat. “Take it and act grateful. I just called in a big favor for you. Don’t embarrass me now.”

  Kat took the sack with a rueful smile and followed Sakura out before peeking inside. Nothing but a head-to-toe burqa dress and Quran. “No offense, but do you really call this a favor?”

  Sakura chuckled without mirth and pointed at the nearest restroom. “Do you have any idea how hard extra clothes are to come by here? Our captors are generous with food and drink, but we have to fight for everything else. But that’s not the key thing. You’re wearing an American military uniform. I don’t think you can even imagine the hell you would suffer if one of the ISIS guards saw you. It’s a miracle that you haven’t already been gang-raped a thousand times.”

  Fear was a new sensation for Kat, but even she wasn’t a superwoman. “All right. In that case… Oh!”

  Kat squealed in ecstasy. At the bottom of the bag, wrapped up in some lacy thong, was the sexiest thing she’d seen in a while.

  “A real K-bar blade! Sakura, you sweet, crafty bitch…Why are you doing this? What do you care what happens to me? You don’t know me.”

  Sakura shivered. “Because you’re the first female soldier I’ve come across. If anyone stands a halfway decent chance of escaping, you’re it. And you’re going to take me with you.”

  Kat patted the little woman’s head and grinned. “I’ll do my best. Don’t you worry, sweetie.”

  Sakura slapped Kat’s cheek without warning. “Your best? You’ve already done your best and look where that’s gotten you! Here…” She dragged Kat to the nearest window and jabbed a finger at some crosses against the far fence. Kat wiped the blood from her lips and cussed, but her voice caught in her throat. The crosses weren’t empty.

  Sakura turned away from the dozens of naked, crucified women. Some were still squirming.

  “They did their best too. Still think this is a damn game?”

  Day Ten

  Suwannee River Trading Post

  Former site of the Mother Gaia Homestead

  Dixon waited in line outside the commune’s new library for a good ten minutes before the armed guard allowed him inside. Dixon slapped the new wall with satisfaction as he stepped inside the well-lit building. This aluminum and fiberglass structure was just the first shack finished out of ten planned warehouses.

  Rand wanted her flea market ready for business within a week. Once she’d made the profit margins clear enough, her neo-socialist cohorts bent over backwards to make it happen. As word spread that a real marketplace was open, entrepreneurs rolled into camp day and night. Some came from just down the road and some from as far away as Georgia, but all were looking to make a deal. With so many desperate sellers available, the trading post could barter or buy an endless supply of concrete, fuel, or recycled construction materials for a song. Sometimes literally for sacks of peanuts.

  Dixon weaved his way through the maze of excited customers and frazzled volunteers busy sorting through mountains of books. He found Rachel in the far corner with her back to him, but his breath sputtered in his throat as he drew close. Her steady humming floated over the chattering crowd and cut him down. Kat sang the same tune whenever she was concentrating. She even kept her hair up in the same high, tight bun that Rachel wore. Dixon choked back the old pain and slapped on a grin.

  “Excuse me, miss. How do I apply for a library card?”

  “Peter!” She spun around and extended her arms, hesitating for only a second before wrapping him up in a hug. Rachel pulled away after a bit and giggled.

  “You want to read, really? Cool! I guess it’s never too late to learn. We’ve got plenty of Dr. Seuss books on aisle twenty.” She jabbed him in the ribs and pointed at the guard with a shotgun by the door. “Just don’t take anything outside. Rand’s anti-shoplifting measures are pretty… unforgiving.”

  Dixon patted her head. “No thanks. I’d hate to spoil the movie… so how long have you been a librarian?”

  “Oh, please. No time for extracurricular activities. I might have been demoted to lab assistant now that we have some real engineers working for us, but that hasn’t made life any easier. The more brainpower and resources we have, the more miracles Rand expects every day.” She winked.

  “Course, we get a few perks though. I do have no-questions-asked, carte blanch access to the library. Just say the word and I’ll make you a copy of whatever you want. No charge. Otherwise, the price is one credit per 50 pages to copy and take with you.”

  Rachel went back to scanning and printing out pages from some chemistry textbook. Dixon whistled.

  “Credits? I’m gone for a few days and everything’s changed. Where’d you get the printers anyway?”

  “We bought them in cold hard cash from a starving office manager. We’re flooded with printing supplies too since there’s no competing market. Paper and ink is worthless junk until someone brings it here. It’s an easy way for folks to get their hands on some script.”

  She cocked her head at his confused frown. “You haven’t seen the new money?”

  Dixon glanced down at his muddy boots. “Hon, the Minutemen are a little busy training in the swamps and patrolling the perimeter to savor all the marvels of civilization. I know life’s quiet around here, but just twenty miles east all hell is breaking loose. The fight for Gainesville and all its abandoned goodies is attracting every cockroach in the state…”

  He
rubbed his throbbing neck scar as Rachel’s smile faded. “Well, things aren’t pretty on the border, but don’t worry. We’re keeping the thugs at bay. They’re too busy killing each other to push hard against us. We’ll be fine.” She still didn’t seem convinced, so he changed the subject fast. “What’s the deal with the new money? Are we on a gold standard or something?”

  Rachel sighed and dug in her pocket. Dixon rubbed the “money” in his hands and grunted. The paper had the same size and feel as real dollar bills, but there ended the similarities. Dixon studied the odd black-and-white American flag logo and laughed.

  “Suwannee River Trading Company Credits? This place just gets weirder every day. What’s the exchange rate for US dollars?”

  Rachel wagged her finger. “About the same ratio as unicorns to leprechauns. You should know better than that. Kind of hard to rely on the ‘full faith and credit of the Federal Government’ when the only surviving members of that said government are trying to kill us. On the other hand, this stuff is real currency inside the camp. Rumor has it even some of the nearby towns are beginning to accept our notes for payment. You can buy anything with that stuff within the commune. Food, liquor, guns, clothes– you name it. Rand’s even begun paying people with paper rather than just food and shelter. Saves a ton of time and energy when the free market provides the rest.”

  “Is that right? Not one of the militiamen have seen a payday.” He sighed and handed her the money back. “I guess some things never change. A soldier’s pay is always low on the priorities list. So how can I score some cash? What do they take for trade?”

  “Well, here’s a summary of the most popular items. They posted the complete exchange table outside the main barn. Rand’s converting the storehouse into a central bank, but I know some rich traders have set up private lending shops. They’ll spot you script if you don’t have anything to trade with the commune’s central reserve, but be careful. Their interest rates are sky high, not to mention what they accept for collateral is pretty, um, unconventional. I still think ‘indentured servitude’ is just a fancy name for slavery.”

  Dixon leaned against the printer table and dropped his head. “Jesus Christ! Most of us are still living in tents, but we have bankers? Is this what we’re calling progress now?”

  Rachel shrugged. “Economics isn’t really my thing, but there’s no denying these private bankers are as efficient as they are shady. Especially with Rand’s complete lack of regulation. They’ve brought in tons of wealth already. Far more than our barter system ever managed. Where do you think those machine guns your militia are using came from? I know they cost Rand a pretty penny, but we never would have found them scavenging on our own.”

  Dixon slid around the table and hovered over the sheets taped to the top. “From a hardcore hippy to a rabid capitalist, eh? God help us. No one is more extreme than a convert. So let’s see what we got here.”

  He ran his finger down the exchange list, searching for anything he might own. The chart covered more than a hundred items that could be converted into credits or vice versa, minus a 5% transaction fee for the trade center itself.

  “Man, I guess I’m dirt poor. I don’t have anything on here. Even if I could get something… hey, come on! How’s one pound of salt worth more than a gallon of unleaded gas?”

  Rachel slid a fresh stack of paper in the computer and set another print run. “I don’t know. Rand has a small army of accountants handling that stuff. Supply and demand, I guess. You should talk to them about getting paid.”

  Dixon winked and crossed his arms. “I’ll do one better and go straight to the source. Rand called me back just for some silly conference, so I’ll corner her afterwards.”

  “I’m sure she’ll take care of you. You’re a general, after all. If she pays me so much, you’ve got to be rolling in the dough!”

  Dixon grimaced. “General? Nah, that’s just Rand’s sick sense of humor. Most of the ex-soldiers we’ve recruited have far more experience than I do. I know when to bow out. That’s why I put John Brown in operational command days ago. He picked his own officers and NCO’s from there. I’m not anywhere in the chain of command.”

  Rachel tapped her fingers on the humming printer. “Brown? The big guy that runs around with a hatchet in his belt like some type of GI Joe? I remember him. He was one of those preppers that came wandering in with his family and an armed gang at his back. I thought Rand didn’t trust him and his kind?”

  Dixon ran a hand through his grubby hair. “We have to take a leap of faith at some point, especially since we need him and his guys more than they need us. Let’s face it. Having the second-best militia around is about as useful as having the second-best hand at poker. Don’t forget that Brown’s an ex-Marine captain. He commanded an infantry company in Iraq and Afghanistan. The guy’s forgotten more about leadership than I’ve ever learned.”

  “So you’re just a figurehead then?”

  “Not even that, thank God. I’m a glorified errand boy and part-time medic. Mainly just Rand’s liaison between the civilians and the, well, I guess we can call ourselves an army. It’s shaping up pretty quick. Speaking of the devil, I’m going to be late. I gotta go. Want to grab a quick dinner later before I head back to the field? I’m so sorry that I hardly have any time with you nowadays.”

  Rachel ignored his offer, but not all his words. Her face stormed up without warning. “Liaison, uh huh. You two sure have been spending a lot of time together. I wonder if that has anything to do with why she’s wearing makeup all of a sudden. Have you already forgotten about my mother?”

  Dixon spun her around, but struggled for the words. Rachel quit pouting as she gazed in his misting eyes. “I will never forget Katherine. No matter what… no matter what might have happened to her…”

  Rachel panicked as her rock sputtered. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry. It was just bored people in a small town gossiping. I guess I let myself get caught up in the drama. Don’t worry. If we made it through the end of the world, you know mom did. We’ll get her back one day.”

  Dixon’s radio crackled. Rand’s peppy voice spilled out from his shoulder. “Hey Peter, are you coming or what? The whole council’s waiting on you. Don’t make me dock your pay, stud.”

  Rachel barred her teeth, but Dixon kissed her forehead before she could curse.

  “Hey, I’ll take this silly fight over fighting for our lives any day.”

  ***

  “I’m telling you, nuclear winter is no joke. Do you think these shorter days are a minor inconvenience? We’re in the middle of June and it’s already getting cold at night. Even the days are a good ten degrees cooler on average than last year. That might not sound like much to you, but it’s drastically shrinking our growing season. Mark my words, this is going to be the longest winter in my lifetime, preceded by some of the poorest crop yields in years. Not a good combination. I… I don’t know what more you want me to say. We’re doing what we can.”

  The commune’s chief farmer slumped back down and wrung his ball cap. Rand hushed the mumbling council and pointed her finger across the open pagoda.

  “Thank you, Martin. Let’s table dealing with winter for now. This scarcity problem he pointed out won’t be much of a problem for us directly. Our storehouses are full, but that’s also an issue… we’ll be a fat target once the first frost sets in. Which leads us to the question of security.”

  She tapped her nails against her lawn chair. “How’s the militia integration going, General Dixon? Is this Colonel Brown fellow of yours working out? We’ve poured an unholy amount of resources into your project. Please tell me the investment is paying off.”

  Dixon snapped out of his miserly self-pity as all eyes locked on him. “Oh, uh, yeah. From a technical standpoint, Brown’s been working wonders. Thanks to Sheriff Greene’s recruiting efforts, we have two hundred men and women already on duty. Another three hundred are in reserve status while they slog through our abbreviated, but intense basic training program. We
’re short on heavy armaments, but explosives and small arms ammo are plentiful. We also have exclusive supply contracts with just about every little factory and metal smith in the area. The militia is drowning in homemade bullets and grenades. The quality leaves much to be desired, but we haven’t had any serious injuries. I force all suppliers to test fire their wares in front of me.”

  He rubbed his dirty face and stood up. “That said, it’s still not enough. If we’re going to station three guard shifts on all the checkpoints we require, plus the roving patrols and still maintain a respectable quick reaction force, we need more troops. Colonel Brown estimates a bare minimum of 1,000.”

  Several council members huffed and threw up their arms. Rand cocked her head at the police chief of High Springs. The small town just ten miles east of their commune was still the largest independent population center in the tri-county area. Since they were even closer to the I-75 battleground, the town had the most to lose. They sat right on the frontlines of the great war between the Warriors of Christ and the Department of Homeland Security.

  Rand nodded and twisted around to the old man at her side. “Sheriff Greene, I know your people have made so many sacrifices already, but could you spare more fighters? Only as a temporary measure while we scourer the countryside for more volunteers. We’ll start offering a signing bonus. That should attract more recruits pretty fast.”

  Greene hung his head and adjusted the gain on his hearing aide. “I wish it was as simple as that. The city council hauled me out of retirement just a week ago, after the mayor and our police chief never came back from some emergency regional meeting in Gainesville on the first day of the nuclear war. I can’t just snap my fingers and demand whatever I want, like you can. Any issue that doesn’t have to do with maintaining law and order has to be decided by unanimous vote among the town elders. Some of them are even older than me, so yeah, that’s not an easy process.”