"Well, none of us are gonna be alive that long anyway. But until then, we stay standing, we keep fighting, and we do whatever it takes to win…." –Charlie Matheson
Chapter 8
Aaron stands in the front of the conference room where everyone has gathered per his request. Texas President Frank Blanchard and Georgia President Kelly Foster are sitting behind a battered old table. Blanchard keeps staring at Kelly and although this irritates her, she tries to ignore him. Grace and Priscilla are present and Deputy Vincent is here as well - leaning against a back wall. The deputy's attendance isn't really necessary, but he doesn't want to miss this. Vincent can't remember seeing this kind of drama since the days when he watched Knot's Landing with his Nana before the blackout.
"All right everyone, thanks for coming." Aaron says with a nervous smile. "I think I have it figured out."
"You can fix her?" Blanchard asks, jerking his thumb in Foster's direction. "Cause I'm not entirely sure I'll survive if I turn her over to the fine folks of Georgia looking like this."
Foster glares at him, but doesn't respond. Instead she nods at Aaron, "Go ahead Mr. Pittman. Tell us what you've discovered."
"So the good news is, I think the jagged little pill is not malfunctioning…not really."
Blanchard cackles nervously, "So you're saying she's supposed to look like a granny?"
Aaron frowns, "Would you please let me finish?"
Frank snorts, but says nothing further.
"Thank you. As I was saying," Aaron continues, "The good news is that the problem doesn't lie within the new capsule…"
"What's the bad news?" Grace asks.
Aaron looks around the room, his gaze finally resting on Kelly. "The bad news is that when I developed the capsule, I didn't factor in the possibility that your cells might have mutated because of your proximity to the nuclear blast. I designed the jagged little pill based on the premise that human cells are pretty similar. Well, yours aren't…not anymore."
"What does this mean?" Priscilla asks. "Will she revert back to the way she was if we take it out?"
Aaron shrugs, "More bad news there, I'm afraid. I just simply didn't plan for this. I don't know what will happen." He walks over to Kelly. "President Foster, what do you want me to do? We can remove the capsule and see what happens or we can leave you like this. I'm sorry I don't have a third option or a guarantee that either of the first two will work."
Kelly Foster exhales slowly. "No. If you want it back, you'll have to kill me first. I don't care that I look old. I feel good. I feel better than I have in years, decades even. Maybe I'm old on the outside, but I feel nineteen again." She turns to Frank. "Take me to my people Frank, and bring the treaties. Let's get all this put behind us…"
"You're sure?" Aaron asks.
"I've never been more sure of anything Mr. Pittman."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Charlie is a strong woman and she doesn't scare easily.
She's scared now.
Memories of Nellie (and all she'd gone through before taking her own life on that awful journey from Texas to Indianapolis) flash through Charlie's mind. Charlie already knew Connor's men had no problem with rape, but somewhere deep in her heart, she'd hoped that was one thing Connor himself wasn't on board with. Clearly she had been wrong.
Connor looks unhinged as he approaches her bed. His eyes are unfocused and his pupils are blown. He is unsteady yet somehow moves with purpose. Usually Charlie might feel she could fend for herself, but in her current state she fears she's no match for Connor. At five months pregnant and just now recovering from an awful bout of pneumonia: Charlie feels drained and helpless.
His belt is unfastened and he pulls down his zipper. "Remember this Charlie?" he asks with an evil laugh. "Oh, I know you do…"
Charlie thinks of one thing that might stop him. She flings back her quilt. "You really want to force me to have sex with you? While I'm pregnant with your brother?" Her voice shakes, but she takes some consolation in the shock she sees on his face. Connor falters, stumbling back a step – his eyes frozen on her swollen stomach.
"You're pregnant?"
"Yes. Your Father and I are getting married when this is all over Connor. He will never forgive you if you hurt me or his baby."
Connor's face hardens. "Yeah, of course it's going to be all about his new baby. Forget the fact that he already has a son who wants to be part of his life… who made a place for him. Shit!" Connor stands perfectly still, staring at her for a moment. Finally the anger dissipates. "What do I care? My Dad doesn't give a shit about me anyway. Might as well have some fun. " He advances again,.
"No!" Charlie yells, tears now streaming down her cheeks. "No."
He's reaching for her and Charlie goes into mama bear mode – her only thought is protecting the baby in her womb. She begins kicking and flailing as Connor tries to grab purchase. He is more than a little drunk and is unable to dodge some of her hits, but most of them bounce off easily. This all changes when she kicks him in the jaw. He yowls in pain before pouncing. In a split second he has her pinned. She screams hoarsely as his mouth descends on hers. The touch of his lips makes Charlie's skin crawl. She begins sobbing, trying as hard as she can to move her face away from his. He is laughing at her attempts to avoid him and Charlie closes her eyes tight. Without warning, she hears a loud crack, and at first doesn't understand what is happening. Her eyes fly open as Connor's body falls heavily onto hers, weighing her down. She cries out and scrambles out from under his prone form. Stunned, she looks at where he is lying motionless across her quilt, blood oozing from a gash in the back of his head.
Charlie's shocked gaze rises and meets the cool green eyes and furious scowl of Connor's housekeeper Magda. In her hands the older woman still clutches the silver tea pot which she'd used to incapacitate her President. "Are you quite all right Miss Charlie?"
Charlie nods slowly, gasping, "I'm… okay. Thank you Magda." Her voice comes out a croak. "Thank you for saving us." Tenderly Charlie runs her hands across her belly.
Magda holds up the now dented silver tea kettle and frowns at it. When she'd smashed into the back of Connor's head, the liquid had all sloshed out. "That bastard will rot in hell before I let him hurt you or your baby, my dear." Magda takes a deep breath before continuing, "But I'll have to go get you some more tea. I think I lost it all when I clobbered him." She says calmly as if this sort of thing isn't out of the ordinary at all.
As Charlie looks down at Connor's crumpled form, she feels a red hot rage sweep through her and she starts to kick his still body. Magda comes near and tries to console her. Charlie breaks down in the older woman's arms, sobbing.
"It will be okay." Magda says softly, patting Charlie's hair.
"No. No it won't." Charlie is shaking her head, "Not as long as he's in charge. He's not a good leader. He's not a good man. He is evil and this Republic deserves better."
"You'll get no argument from me." Magda agrees. "Mr. Bass will be back soon…" She trails off as she remembers they have no idea how long he'll be gone.
"Magda?" Charlie asks, concerned. "What are we going to do now? Bass may not be back for weeks or even months. We have to do something now." She motions to where the President still lies motionless. "If he wakes up, he'll…"
"Well, the way I see it we have a couple options. We'll have to kill him or tie him up and stash him somewhere till Mr. Bass gets back. Either way, someone is going to have to step in for him until Mr. Bass returns. The one thing we can't do is let him wake up and go free. This one's got an awful temper Miss Charlie – makes his dad look like a pussy cat. If he wakes up and realizes what has happened…. Well, we'll both be standing in front of the firing squad before sundown."
Charlie takes a deep breath. When she speaks again, she sounds stronger. "I have an idea for that. Please bring my Grandfather to me."
"Yes, ma'am." Magda says with a nod. She leaves Charlie then, the dented tea pot still clutched in her hand.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
From the moment they'd left Indianapolis, Bass and Miles have been working their magic, reviving skills learned long before when their own militia had first begun to grow. They are tireless, weaving between the groups of soldiers, introducing themselves, learning names and ranks of the officers and other noteworthy members of the militia. They are getting to know their men and women. Bass and Miles are convinced that any chance they have depends on the men wanting to win, and wanting to do so under their leadership. It is with this goal in mind that the Generals are focusing all their efforts on building a relationship with those they are now leading.
Maybe most importantly, they are doing an unofficial audit of skill sets. Every couple of hours they meet and compare notes. It is their second quick status meeting of the day. "What did you find?" Miles asks.
"Miller, Sumpter, Wright and Maddaleno are all from Iowa originally and they all have scouting or tracking skills."
"Excellent. What else?"
"King, Yeomans, Hopp and Cummins are good with a bow."
Miles nods, "Found a couple more archers in the last group myself: Riddle and Heffron."
"Best at hand to hand?" Bass asks.
"Rupe, Simon and Linus. You?"
"The best I saw were Stater, DeMars and Lopez."
This conversation goes on for a few more minutes and then the two split up again. They have very limited time to build a rapport with these men and women. There is no time to waste.
Dennis (Connor's personal assistant and right hand man) watches the Generals work their way through the soldiers. This is certainly not a technique ever used by President Bennett. Connor would never consider lowering himself to the level of the grunts. Dennis smirks. These idiots think they can earn some kind of respect from the Bennett Militia? Doubtful. Connor has been leading them for years, and it's no secret they despise him still. Initially, Dennis had been pissed when he'd been ordered to go along with Monroe and Matheson, but it hasn't been all bad. For the most part, they ignore him.
The truth is that Bass and Miles are watching Dennis carefully. They don't trust him. "He's a goddamned weasel." Miles mutters. "Some of the guys said he's been asking around to see who wants to be a messenger back to Connor. So far, nobody will do it."
Bass grins, "Let's give him what he wants. We might as well be in the loop on what info exactly is being sent back to Connor."
"Yup."
The soldiers are surprised when the Generals announce that they will set up camp when the midday sun is still hot in the sky. It is quickly clear that the Generals have a plan.
"We are stopping for the night, but don't get comfortable just yet." Miles yells out with an eager grin at the assembled soldiers. "We want to see what you've got. We've got a big showdown ahead of us. Consider this your audition."
Bass walks up next to Miles and his smile matches the one worn by his brother, "Grab your weapons and let's get started."
Bass and Miles split the soldiers into small groups. Soon there are sparring matches scattered all around. Some are fighting hand to hand. Others are using swords and daggers. Along the bank of a creek, a row of the best archers are target shooting. A little farther down, the best riflemen are doing the same. The Iowa natives are given maps that show an approximate layout of the war clan dwellings, corn fields and other settlements. They are soon discussing strategy for a recon session.
Bass and Miles watch, but they also join in here and there. Miles spars with his swords – wowing the young soldiers with his skill and speed. Bass spends a lot of time talking strategy with the scouts, working through different ideas and plans. Then he moves to the Creekside, calling out tips and encouragement.
The change is gradual, but by the end of the day something has shifted. Miles finds himself surrounded by men and women of the Bennett militia who are peppering him with questions about his fighting style. Bass is similarly surrounded by soldiers who want to discuss strategy.
These fighters have lacked solid leadership since the beginning, and now that they've found it, they'll follow these two anywhere. The Generals have won over the militia.
As twilight settles over the camp, Bass and Miles call the officers together to explain the plan
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Kelly and Blanchard are long gone. Aaron, Priscilla and Grace are sitting in the conference room talking.
Aaron frowns, "So we really need to test the capsule on someone else – someone who hasn't been exposed to a nuclear blast. Any ideas?"
"Well," Grace says, "It's not just the nuclear thing. We need folks who have been invaded by the Nano as well."
"True." Aaron agrees. He points at Priscilla and then at himself. "We both hosted Nano dance parties inside our heads. It's probably still in there somewhere."
"So we put capsules in one of you to see what happens?" Grace asks.
"I think it should be both of us." Aaron pauses, "Make that all three. Grace, you can be our control."
Priscilla looks nervous, "Are you sure?"
"Oh hell no." Aaron says, shaking his head. "Pulling ideas out of my ass at this point – my very educated ass, I might add, but still… it's all guess work."
Grace seems to agree, "It's a good plan Aaron, considering how quickly we need to get some results. Once we see how the three of us react, we can determine if it's safe to take a capsule to Rachel."
"What if we all are suddenly very old?" Priscilla asks.
"How about I start?" Aaron says. "When we put a capsule in Kelly, the changes occurred within a couple hours. If I go that long without becoming Father Time, you guys can go ahead and join me.
The women agree, and soon Aaron is lying in the cell Foster had called home. He pulls down his jeans, showing off faded boxers with little reindeer all over them. Grace chuckles, "Nice shorts."
Aaron shrugs, "Beggers can't be choosers. Let's get this started." Priscilla stands next to him, holding his hand. Grace kneels next to his legs with a sterilized scalpel and a brand new jagged little pill.
"So," Grace says with a frown, "Chances are – this is going to hurt."
"Bring it." Aaron says, screwing his eyes tightly shut.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Gene Porter hasn't left his daughter's side. He's worried. Rachel is weaker and in and out of consciousness. When she's awake, she sometimes doesn't know where she is. Frequently she talks to people who aren't there.
He's watching her sleep, his hand gently stroking her hair out of her eyes when the door opens without warning. He looks up to see Magda the maid. Her eyes look a little wild, but she speaks calmly, "Dr. Porter, can you help us? President Bennett isn't feeling well."
"Of course." He says, bending to give Rachel a kiss before standing, grabbing his medical bag and following Magda across the hallway to Charlie's room. When he walks through the door, he comes up short. Connor is sprawled out on Charlie's bed, clearly unconscious.
"Charlie, what happened here?" Gene asks his granddaughter nervously.
"He was going to hurt me, so Magda clobbered him with the tea pot."
"It's made out of pewter." Magda answered helpfully. "Packs a wallop."
Gene walks quickly to Connor's side and checks his vitals. "He's got a nasty goose egg, but otherwise I'm guessing he'll be just fine as soon as he wakes up…"
"Actually Grandpa," Charlie says with a hard gleam in her eye, "I don't want him to wake up just yet."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
A group of six Bennett Republic soldiers have been identified as former Iowa residents. These men and women have been tasked by the Generals to initiate phase one of the attack plan. They are briefed on the details and sent on their way. They will cross the Mississippi in three groups of two. Each group will attempt to get through without being noticed, but they all have viable stories about visiting family if they should be stopped. Once past the border territory which is manned by clans, they will get to the Capital, Des Moines as quickly as possible to discuss a treaty with the Iowa Territory's Governor. The scouts will try to convince the Governor that the Bennett Republic can do a much better job than the clans do, and that joining forces with the Bennett Republic will be the best choice.
The remaining soldiers (with the exception of those standing watch) curl up in whatever space they can find and try to get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a big day for all of them.
Miles and Monroe are feeling somewhat confident, but of course they have doubts. Going into battle with soldiers they barely know, against an almost unknown enemy would be worrisome all by itself. The thing that is nagging at the Generals is that they just aren't as young as they used to be. Both are feeling every one of their years today.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
After Grace had inserted the capsule in the narrow opening she'd cut into Aaron's thigh, she'd sewn it up quickly. Several uneventful minutes had passed and Aaron began to feel hopeful that there wouldn't be any pain. Maybe Kelly had suffered only because of her mutated cells? He'd gone as far as to suggest exactly that when the first flashes of agony had swept through his body.
Aaron had writhed around and cried for what felt to him like hours, but which was actually less than five minutes. Finally he'd settled, exhausted and sweaty, but refusing to open his eyes.
"Tell me the truth." Aaron says from where he still lies on the cot in the jail cell. "Do I look like Colonel Sanders?" he's trying to act like it's no big deal, but they can hear the worry in his voice. He cracks an eye open when he hears Priscilla and Grace chuckling. "Oh God, how bad is it then? Dumbledore?" Aaron's voice is rising in a panic. "I'm Santa Claus, that's it isn't it? Oh God."
"No!" Grace finally breaks in, unable to contain her laughter. "You look like…. Aaron Pittman."
Aaron sags in relief, but stiffens when he hears Priscilla continue, "Yeah, Aaron Pittman from the day I married you almost twenty years ago..."
"What?" Aaron asks, disbelieving.
Priscilla walks closer, stroking his cheek. "I don't know why Aaron, but it seems to me that the Nano made you look…younger."
"Who cares why? I'm next." Grace says, grinning.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Gene stares wide-eyed at Charlie, "What do you mean you don't want Connor to wake up? I'm not going to kill him Charlie. I take my oath to do no harm pretty seriously."
Charlie smiles faintly. She is still feeling shaky, but now that her plan is solidifying in her mind, she's doing better. "I don't want him dead, Grandpa." She shrugs, "But if he stayed asleep for a while, it would be….a good thing."
"Good for whom?" Gene asks blankly.
"Everyone, I should imagine." Magda mutters darkly.
"Grandpa, something is seriously wrong with Connor. He's insane. He wants to hurt me. Wants to hurt my baby. He'll do both if he wakes up now."
"But Charlie, I don't understand. What happened here?"
Charlie's smile fades. She stares blankly at Connor, her voice just a whisper, "He was going to rape me, Grandpa. Magda got here just in time."
"What?" Gene is instantly furious.
"Magda got here before anything happened, so don't worry. I just wanted you to know how crazy he is right now."
Gene nods slowly, staring at Connor with a hateful glare. "I took that oath a really long time ago. Maybe there's some wiggle room."
"No." Charlie says, shaking her head. "I need him alive, but out of commission. The people of the Bennett Republic need to feel secure. We don't want them to panic or stage some sort of coup."
"So, what do you have in mind exactly?" Gene can see the wheels turning in his Granddaughter's gaze.
"Well, we need someone to take over. Someone who can act as an interim president while we wait for Bass. Someone who is trustworthy and who people will listen to." She stares hard at her Grandfather, "Someone like you maybe?"
"Me?" Gene asks, shocked. "No. I'm as far from being presidential material as is humanly possible Charlie. I'm a doctor. I'm good at that. Politics are not my thing." He's shaking his head, and the look he gives her tells her he won't be swayed.
"But…" Charlie starts.
"But nothing Charlie. I think your idea to have someone hold down the fort while you wait for Bass is a good idea. It just can't be me."
"But who then?" Charlie asks. She's standing now, pacing back and forth. "Mom can't do it."
"No, she can't." Gene agrees, "But maybe…"
"Maybe what?" Charlie asks.
"Maybe you can do it, Charlie." Gene nods in her direction. "You are trustworthy. You were a decorated soldier during the Patriot war and more recently you were working with the Texas Rangers. Your parents were brilliant scientists. Your Uncle a fearless General. You're marrying the former President of the Monroe Republic. If you can't be a fake president for a week or two, who can be?"
"I don't know Grandpa. It just sounds so…."
Gene shrugs, "Your decision Charlie, but it is something you should consider."
"I'm too young." She says, shaking her head.
"Oh stop." Gene frowns, "Age means nothing these days. Miles and Bass were starting the Monroe Republic when they were your age. They were soldiers before that. Connor started around the same age as well, with even less experience than you have now. I believe you'll make a great leader. You are bossy and opinionated. If you ever doubt yourself, remember this… you are Rachel Matheson's daughter. Ordering people around is in your blood."
Charlie frowns, "So I'll announce that Connor has fallen ill, and as Sebastian Monroe's fiancé, I will govern until he returns?"
Gene nods with a smile.
"You'll have to call an assembly meeting then. That's how Connor would always set the stage for big announcements."
"Okay, the Assembly… Magda, can you get that meeting set up for me?"
"Of course." She says.
Charlie stands tall, "This may be the dumbest thing I've ever done, but if it will keep my baby safe, I'm willing to do anything. I am a Matheson. Soon I will be a Monroe. It's high time I started doing my part.
Gene has to chuckle, impressed by Charlie's strength and confidence. "I knew you could do it. Allright Charlie, what do you need me to do?"
She motions for Magda to follow and heads out of the room. "Just give Connor something to keep him asleep. Probably need to tie him up too, just to be safe." She winks at him as she leaves the room. Gene is struck by how mature she is these days. Charlie should come off as weak. She's just emerged from an awful bout with pneumonia. The man she loves is out on the battle field and her future son-in-law has just attempted to rape her. She should be cowering in a corner. Any normal person would be. Gene smiles as he watches her leave the room with her head held high – in spite of the fact that she is barefoot and still dressed in her long night gown.
Charlie is right. She is her mother's daughter after all. As crazy as it seems, this just might work.
Magda pops back into the room for a moment. "I'll get President Bennett's doctor and he can help you with…him." She points at Connor's prone form.
Gene's eyes widen, "That's probably not a good idea. Connor's doctor might not be on board with what I'll need to do…."
Magda shakes her head, "You don't know what you're talking about Sir. Connor is a disease. We've all suffered under his rule. Doc Lewis lost two sons to the firing squad. I guarantee he won't bat an eye lash as a little forced coma."
"Well all right then." Gene nods slowly as Magda exits.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Grace had the forethought to take an injection of morphine before she inserted her own capsule (Aaron was too squeamish and Priscilla's hands far too shaky to do the job) into her thigh. The pain was therefore dulled substantially. Unlike Aaron - who had kept his eyes cranked shut until he'd heard how things turned out – Grace held a mirror throughout the whole transformation.
"This is….amazing." she says in awe, stroking her own cheek as she marvels at her reflection.
Priscilla's also impressed, "Wow, your skin is so smooth."
Grace frowns, "And before it was so…?"
"No, I didn't mean that. Of course…" Priscilla is flustered. "But just like Aaron, you look younger."
"Yeah, not as much younger as he does though. I'd say this is maybe ten years younger for me. So it's different for each of us…. Interesting."
Priscilla is clearly nervous but shrugs. "Guess it's my turn."
She also opts to have the morphine appetizer as Aaron has dubbed the pre implantation shot of pain killer. When the discomfort has passed, they are all surprised to see that she looks exactly the same as she had before.
"You don't look any different." Aaron points out the obvious. "Do you feel different?"
Priscilla shakes her head, "No. I don't think so."
Grace smiles slowly, "I think we can take this to Rachel. It's weird that Aaron and I look younger, but I think most people won't be too upset if we give them a facelift, Rachel included."
Aaron nods thoughtfully, "Grace, you said you think you look about ten years younger. Was that a pretty healthy point in your life?"
"Probably the healthiest actually. When I was younger I had breast cancer. This was before the blackout and it was treated with radiation and chemo and it never came back, but it took several years before I felt truly good again. This last decade I've been on the run and my health unfortunately hasn't always been the focus it should have been."
"So, you're thinking the Nano moved you back to the last time you were feeling healthy?"
"Maybe?" She shrugs, "It's hard to tell, but I definitely feel good."
Aaron grins, "I felt good twenty years ago. I was going to a gym. Priscilla had me eating healthy. I was in a good place physically. It was later that I got high blood pressure and gout and other problems. I feel like I did before all that later stuff came on."
"So what about me?" Priscilla asks with a frown.
"You are healthy now. Maybe the healthiest you've been for a while. The Nano didn't feel the need to reset your system." He pauses, "That's my spur of the moment theory anyway."
"Well," Grace says, packing things up as she talks, "It works for me. Let's go and see what happens to Rachel. Then we will maybe know for sure."
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Charlie and Magda haven't gotten far down the hallway when Charlie stops and begins to laugh.
"What is it dear?" Magda asks.
"I just agreed to be the new fake leader for a while, but I now realize that I've been stuck in that one room the whole time I've been here. I have no idea where anything is." Her voice has taken on an undercurrent of hysteria.
Magda puts a reassuring hand on Charlie's arm. "Don't you worry about a thing, dear. I can't run a country, but I can show you around. Where do you want to go?"
Charlie takes a deep calming breath and nods slowly, "Connor's office, I guess. I need to start there."
"Right this way." Magda says with a grin. "Now tell me Charlie, what are you going to wear? The Assembly won't take you very seriously wearing that."
"Oh you're right." Charlie says looking down. "I need something to wear. Something official looking… a uniform, I guess, but something that will make me stand out. Can you help me Magda. The clothes I came in were thrown out, not that I could wear them now anyway…" she motions to her swollen belly. "You mentioned there's a closet somewhere full of Bass's old uniforms. Maybe you can cobble something together out of those?"
Magda's head is immediately filled with ideas, "Yes, I do believe that's something I can do."
XXXXXXXXXXXX
The attack happens at midnight under a moonless sky. Earlier that afternoon, two of the scouts had returned with news from the other side of the Mississippi. The plan is falling into place. Iowa is dry as a bone. The scouts aren't even sure the crops will amount to anything this year. This is bad news for hungry people across the Bennett Republic and Plains Nations, but it is good news for Miles and Bass.
The clans' sod shelters are covered in dry grasses and surrounded by parched foliage. As full dark settles, the scouts who had stayed on the Iowa side lit the first of the fires in pre-arranged spots up and down the shore, before heading farther into Iowa where they will go to the Governor and set the stage for phase 2. The clansmen quickly apply themselves to the task of putting out these small initial fires, never realizing that they'd only just seen the beginning.
The first wave of boats moves across the surface of the Mississippi in total darkness. When they are fifty feet from shore, the archers ready their bows – complete with specialized tips that are dipped into some of Iowa's own grain alcohol before being shot into the sod dwellings. The dry conditions have prepared the perfect environment for an attack by fire. In minutes, flames are eating along the shore of the Mississippi and the war clans are surrounded by a blazing inferno.
What Miles and Bass had gambled on was that the grasses would be so dry that they would burn up quickly, leaving behind a smoldering wasteland bordering the Mississippi. The clans had worried about fires all summer and had built wide trenches between their riverside dwellings and the corn fields. This was the saving grace of the plan. The clans would be decimated, but the crops would survive.
The Generals' gamble pays off. Within an hour, the flames are mostly out, and a haze of smoke hangs in the air. Many clansmen have died. Those who are left, put forth their best effort, but they are weakened by the attack. In addition, by this time the remaining militia soldiers have reached shore.
The Bennett Militia fights the surviving clansmen with swords and guns and crossbows. Miles and Bass fight at their sides. This seems to inspire more bravery and loyalty among their men than anything else they could have done.
Within hours, the battle is over. The dwellings have been reduced to ash, but with the mighty Mississippi on one side and the wide trenches on the other, the crops are safe.
The Bennett soldiers are ecstatic. They have managed to survive this important battle and have won handily. Though every loss is tragic, the Bennett Militia counts only seven of their own who have fallen.
Miles is grinning from ear to ear as he walks over to Bass who is leaning against a tree. "Damn, that was fun. Kind of forgot how it could be."
Bass smiles back and nods, letting out a slow breath. "Was fun. You're right."
Something about Bass's voice sends a jolt of alarm through Miles. "What's wrong?" he asks.
Bass moves away from the tree and takes a shaky step toward a nearby campfire. He looks down at himself in the reflected light and frowns as he pulls away a bloody hand. "Looks like I got hit."
Miles gets to him just as his friend's eyes roll back into his head and he crumples to the ground. Miles is instantly both terrified and determined, "Get me a doctor right now." He screams. The laughter in the crowd fades as those gathered realize it is one of their new leaders – General Sebastian Monroe - who is down.
Connor's right hand man Dennis watches from nearby. It's time to get a message back to Bennett.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Connor doesn't regain consciousness before Gene injects him with enough tranquilizers to keep him in a medically induced coma for a while. He and Connor's doctor – a man named Lewis who Gene likes immediately – come up with a schedule so that one of them is with the president at all times. They also determine how much medication to give him and when. They settle him into a room right next to Rachel's.
The doctors concoct a story about President Bennett coming down with a bad case of the measles and that he is highly contagious. They feel this will buy Charlie the time she needs till Bass can return.
Rachel wakes up shortly after Connor has been settled into the room next door. She is lucid which is a nice change and asks her Dad what she's missed.
Gene pats her hand and smiles reassuringly, "Oh nothing dear. Nothing at all."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Magda pushes through the heavy wooden doors and leads Charlie into Connor's office. Charlie's eyes scan the space quickly and settle on the paintings above the big desk. Without warning, she is overcome with a fit of the giggles.
Magda is worried that the earlier panic has returned and she walks closer to Charlie, "Are you okay?"
"I'm…" Charlie bends over gasping for air as her own laughter becomes too much. "I'm fine. It's just that picture…."
"The one of Mr. Bass looking all angry and mean? Don't worry about that dear. It was from a long time ago."
Charlie composes herself for the most part. "Mean, huh? That's what you see?" She's no longer laughing, but a smirk remains, "I see something else entirely, Magda. I bet there's a fun story to be heard there." She walks over to the big desk and sits down in Connor's chair.
Magda smiles at the girl in the nightgown and messy hair who is staging a coup. "I guess I better go work on your new uniform. Anything you need of Connor's will be in this room as far as I know. His personal chambers are just through that door, but as far as I know he only ever slept or…" Magda frowns severely, "entertained his female guests in there."
Charlie is pulling out drawers and rifling through stacks of papers. "I don't even know what I'm looking for exactly, but this is enough to get me started. Thank you Magda. Go ahead and work on the sewing. Come bug me whenever you need measurements or whatever."
XXXXXXXXXXX
Aaron, Priscilla and Grace prepare to travel north. They split up the fifteen capsules they've completed as well as enough supplies to build another dozen. They each take one of the pendants and Grace and Aaron each take a laptop. They fear that if they are separated, the whole plan will fall apart, so they pack accordingly.
Deputy Vincent surprises them with a wagon and a team of strong horses (all courtesy of President Blanchard) and rides with them as far as the town limits. It is there that he finishes doling out Blanchard's gifts: two rifles, a shotgun, four hunting knives and enough ammo to fight their way out of most scenarios in which they might need to defend themselves. The wagon is also stocked with two barrels of clean drinking water and enough dried and canned food for their journey.
Vincent nods toward the wagon, "Should be enough here to get you there easily. Since you don't have to hunt for game, or search for water – which can be tough in this drought - you can get to Indianapolis in a couple days, assuming nothing goes wrong."
Aaron grunts, "Yeah, cause nothing ever goes wrong when we're on the road."
"Please extend our thanks to President Blanchard." Grace says, ignoring Aaron's comment.
Vincent nods, "Will do. Tell Miles that Frank wants him to get his dumb ass back here cause he's got a job to do." He chuckles, "His words, not mine obviously."
Aaron agrees with a smile. "Will do. Thanks Vincent. See ya."
The trio of travelers drive out of Willoughby, the future of the world stowed carefully in their packs.
XXXXXXXXXXXX
When Magda arrives with a pinned together maternity uniform – cobbled together using three of Bass's, she finds Charlie still in the chair behind the desk. She's reading from a leather bound book and barely even acknowledges the housekeeper's entrance.
"Could I get you to try this on?" She asks.
Charlie looks up slowly, and it is only now that Magda sees the expression on Charlie's face. It is a special mix of dread and horror. She ignores Magda's question and asks one of her own, "Did you know he keeps a journal?"
"President Bennett? No, I had no idea."
"Well he does," Charlie's hands are shaking as she sets the book down. "He's obsessed with Bass."
"Well, I think we knew that didn't we?" Magda asks softly.
"No. I mean…yeah we knew he was, but I don't think we knew the extent. He wants everything that Bass has or ever had. He made him co-president. When we first got here, Connor told Bass they he was second in command. That's not true. Bass has just as much power in this Republic as his son does."
Magda is surprised. "I had no idea."
Charlie frowns, "Connor has a weird fascination about me too. Evidently he fantasized about me because he had figured out Bass liked me."
"He did more than fantasize I'm afraid." Magda says with a dark scowl.
"The Charlies?" Charlie asks, and points to the book, "Yeah, he mentions them in there. And that's not the worst of it."
"What is?"
Charlie stands, and tries to keep her hands from shaking. She fails. "Magda, Connor has no intention of letting us go… ever." Charlie has kept it together up to this point, but her voice wavers now as she continues, "And he plans to have Miles executed as soon as they get back from Iowa."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
A doctor treats Bass's wound – he'd been shot in the chest, though luckily it doesn't appear life threatening. All the same, Miles doesn't think Bass should go with the Militia to meet the Iowa Governor. "You need to go back to Indianapolis. Let Gene look you over. Let Charlie baby you until you're unbearable. I'll go with the Militia, talk to this Iowa guy and get back as soon as I can."
Bass isn't thrilled but agrees. Six of the best soldiers are sent to ride with Bass as guards. They settle him as comfortably as they can in the back of the wagon and head back toward the Bennett Republic.
XXXXXXXXXXX
The next morning Charlie and Magda stand before a floor length mirror and admire Charlie's new uniform. It is grey. The pants have been tapered and hug her slender legs perfectly, while the waist has been overhauled by an added tummy panel that will allow Charlie's baby to have the room he needs to grow throughout the rest of Charlie's pregnancy. The jacket was once three different ones hanging in Bass's closet. Magda has expertly repurposed the old uniform jackets. The result is similar to the ones the men wear, but also different. Instead of the harsh collar that the original uniforms had, Magda has softened it into a deep vee. Charlie wears a crisp white shirt underneath. The jacket hangs low enough to conceal her belly without attempting to hide the fact that she's pregnant. Every part of the uniform has been carefully fitted to Charlie's body. She looks stunning. Magda helps her pull her long hair into a severe knot and presents her with new black boots that tie almost up to her knees. They have been polished to a shine. The final touches are two lapel pins: The Bennett and Monroe Republic insignias contrast nicely with the grey fabric.
"I know I'm biased." Magda says proudly, "But I think this looks good."
"Do you think it looks official enough?"
"Official, authoritative, fierce…"
"Yeah?" Charlie smiles. "Fierce is good."
"Yes, Dear. Like I said, you look good."
Charlie nods, "I look like someone who gives orders….like someone people might listen to."
Magda chuckles, "You sure do. Now is there anything else I can help you with?"
"Yes, but I'll admit it's going to be an odd request and if you don't feel comfortable doing it, let me know."
"Well, I'm intrigued. What do you have in mind?"
"I am going to need some papers created…something showing that Bass and Connor said I was in charge if they were unable to run things."
"I know someone who can help with that." Magda smirks.
"Magda, what is it you did before the blackout? You weren't always a maid, were you?"
"Oh heavens no, dear. I used to be a warden of a woman's prison back in Philadelphia before the blackout. That was one of the reasons Mr. Bass hired me in the first place. He needed someone to keep the staff in line. I was good at that."
"But you know someone who can help here?"
Magda nods, "Let's just say I have always managed to make friends from very diverse backgrounds, some of whom choose unconventional ways to make a living. You need fake papers? I'll have them for you later today."
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Tom Neville watches all of the activity from darkened corners. Connor was the only person who has ever paid him much mind here, and now with Connor out of commission (for the moment anyway), Tom has some decisions to make. Charlotte Matheson seems to be planning a take-over and Tom just isn't sure he's on board with that plan.
He starts to devise a plan of his own to take down that bitch once and for all.
XXXXXXXXXXXX
After spending a full day holed up in Connor's office, going over all of his plans and laws, Charlie calls an emergency meeting of the Bennett Advisory Assembly. Gene and Dr. Lewis are both in attendance and testify to the current health of the President. Magda's friend had come through with papers proclaiming that in the absence of Monroe and Bennett, Charlie is in charge.
She introduces herself to the crowd, "My name is Charlotte Matheson. My fiancé is General Sebastian Monroe. He is currently fighting in the Plains Nation alongside my uncle General Miles Matheson. They are fighting so that every resident of this Republic can count on being fed this winter. Usually Connor Bennett would give this address himself, but he is very ill, having contracted the measles. I am aware that you do not know me, but I was asked by Bennett and Monroe to lead until one or both of them is able to take charge once again."
There are rumblings from the Assembly. Some look at her doubtfully, but the overwhelming expression seems to be curiosity. One advisor raises his hand to indicate he has a question. Charlie acknowledges him with a curt nod.
"What do you plan to do during this time when Bennett is sick and Monroe is fighting?" his expression indicates that he doesn't expect much of an answer.
Charlie nods to Magda who is standing in a corner with a stack of folders. She begins to hand them to the people gathered.
"My initial plans are detailed in the folder you are being given now. President Bennett has, as I'm sure you know, refurbished a large warehouse to be used as barracks for the Militia. That plan is changing as of this meeting."
"So what is your intention with that building?"
"The militia has housing right here in the Capitol building that is perfectly adequate. It is wasteful to use this second space for the exact same purpose. As it is already equipped with a full kitchen and bedrooms, it will now be used to assist those living on the street in downtown Indianapolis and any of the surrounding areas. We are fighting in the Plains for food. Food isn't all that necessary when the hungry have frozen to death."
"And Bennett is on board with this?" a large man with squinty eyes asks.
"I didn't ask him. He's, as I mentioned, very sick. I know in my heart that he would have done this himself if he'd had the idea first."
There are a few snorts of laughter, and as Charlie surveys the room she can tell they are warming up to her.
"What else?" A slender woman asks.
"The firing squad is being disbanded. The area of the courtyard formerly used for that purpose will be replaced with a flower garden." She sees shock on most of the faces present, but forges on, "From now on, every prisoner will be given a fair trial. The assembly members in this room will act as a jury until you can assemble an official one."
Squinty eyes smiles slowly, "Anything else Ms. Matheson?"
Charlie looks across the faces before her and grins slowly, "What? That's not enough for my first day?"
A/N Thanks as always to the amazing dvpdvpdvp for her continued assistance and beta super powers! Also a big thank you to all who have asked when the next update would be coming or have supported this story in other ways (favorites/follows/etc). You guys rock. There will be probably two more chapters of this story on the way. :)
