It didn't matter in the slightest that he was under his truck and couldn't see the light of the new day. It also didn't matter that he slept in a sleeping bag on a concrete surface, or that he had been incredibly drunk the night before.
None of that mattered. Marcus was still awake and coherent at seven in the morning.
Of course, he had that fleeting split second of a moment where he didn't realize where he was and why he wasn't in his bed.
Then, of course, in a flash it all came back to him: The fact that he'd killed yet another person the night before and had somehow assumed the responsibility of a strange young women in the process who was now, very likely at that moment, sleeping in his bed.
Of course. She was the whole reason he was out here, under his truck.
Reflecting on his dreamless night of sleep, he was thankful that that he had avoided the nightmares, or suddenly launching himself awake. Of course, the whiskey usually helped with that and he had made sure to consume enough of it to to mitigate those unfortunate, all too familiar situations.
Marcus breathed in deeply and exhaled. Another day to begin.
In a few moments he had his sleeping bag rolled up and stored on a shelf and he quickly looked around to make sure nothing else in the building required his attention.
Nothing did. It was just as organized as he always left it.
And with that, Marcus left the garage, locked it from the outside and began his daily inspection of his property to make sure nothing was amiss.
Given that he had slept in a sleeping bag in his garage under his truck, Marcus was still wearing his clothes from the night before, minus his sweatshirt which he didn't feel the need to ask for back from Rosie the previous night. It looked like she had needed it and hey, it was a pretty warm sleeping bag.
He also still wore his PPK/S in his hip holster inside his shorts. He flipped the button catch off of said holster in case he needed to draw the weapon quickly during his inspection.
Pausing for a moment and balancing his cane against his leg, Marcus lit a cigarette and took a deep breath of smoke in, his first hit of the new day.
The sun was beginning to get a firm foothold in the sky; it looked like it was to be another beautiful day on the hellhole of Oahu.
Everything was looking copacetic around his property. The tall wood fence completely surrounding it was entirely intact and the garage and second, smaller shed yielded no signs of attempted break in or damage. The house also looked entirely untouched.
Marcus then proceeded inside and crept upstairs to check on Rosie. She was still fast asleep, curled up on her side facing away from him with the comforter wrapped about her head and her hair draped unevenly over her face and the sheets.
He then returned downstairs and quietly cleaned up the pieces of broken furniture that Rosie had unfortunately noticed the night before, bagging all of the debris in several, industrial size garbage bags. How could he have known he'd have a guest? Of course, the one time he ever left his house in disarray was the time he had someone over. He dearly hoped that she had bought his (admittedly weak) story on how the furniture had ended up in shards.
Marcus then, after dropping the bags next to the garage, proceeded to the porch and lit up another cigarette, trying to have a nice five minute break before he would go inside and figure out what else constructive he could do to occupy his time until Rosie woke up.
He had just launched the recently finished cigarette into the pot he had sitting on the deck for that very purpose, when the sound of vehicles floated to him.
Reflexively, he drew his PPK/S, thumbed back the hammer and mentally calculated how quickly he could get to the nearest larger firearm he had stored in the house ( an old Mossberg 500 .12 gauge shotgun hidden under his living room couch) but quickly realized that that move likely wouldn't be necessary.
It sounded like three or four vehicles, as they pulled up in front of the gate and Marcus could see the top of an APC over the fence.
Unless this was a very well equipped and very well coordinated group of scavengers, this had to be a small Air Force convoy.
His bimonthly supply delivery wasn't for another four days, so this was seemingly the rare, highly unexpected visit of someone else.
He heard footsteps over the idling vehicles and braced himself. If he was wrong, he was probably about to get into a shootout.
He dearly hoped he wasn't wrong.
The gate swung open and a fully armored and helmeted Master Sergeant carrying an assault rifle stepped in, noticed Marcus, and instantly snapped the rifle up at him.
Marcus grinned widely and threw his hands (his right carrying the PPK/S and his left the cane) as far out to his sides as he could. If he was going to be shot accidentally, he might as well have some good humor about it.
The Master Sergeant realized his mistake and quickly rerouted the barrel of his rifle towards the dirt.
"Goddammit, Marcus!" he snapped.
"And a good morning to you, Master Sergeant Mills!" Marcus said, lowing both his weapon and his cane and leaning on the latter. "Didn't expect you and the boys for another few days. How may I help you?"
His first thought was that this was some sort of inquest into the shooting of the scavenger last night and that Marcus might be brought in for questioning. Did they really care about another dead scavenger who was obviously a scum of a human being? Was it possible that Lieutenant Burrell had filed a complaint about his humiliating experience with Marcus? Would anyone even care if he had?
Then, another, far more terrifying thought occurred to him. What if they were here for Rosie? Could she have done something that made her a wanted person of interest for the military? What could a girl like that have possibly done?
Thankfully, none of these possible options proved to be the case.
Filing through the gate right behind Master Sergeant Mills was a sharp looking man dressed smartly in a dark suit who wore a bullet proof vest and helmet. The man carried a carton of Marcus's favorite cigarettes in one hand and a large bottle of Jack Daniel's Single Barrel in the other.
Oh, it was one of those visits. That was much better than any of the alternatives.
Marcus smiled warmly; genuinely. "Good morning, Governor. Please come in."
Five minutes later, the pair sat across from each other in Marcus's living room. Marcus in his recliner, sitting up straight and Governor Inouye on the couch. Inouye had removed both the vest and the helmet and they were neatly stacked next to him.
The dozen or so escorting Airman had taken up a perimeter around the property, leaving the Governor to speak privately with Marcus.
Governor David Inouye was a man in his late fifties, though he looked over a decade older. His hair was white and he had perpetual bags under his eyes that made him look far more tired than he ever seemed to be.
Leading Hawaii over the past fifteen years had seemingly added nearly forty years to the man, who had looked far younger than his age when he had assumed office.
The Governor smiled warmly. "Well, I'd have called ahead, but your phone's never on... How've you been Marcus? I heard you had some more problems last night."
Marcus returned the smile and shrugged. "It was only the one problem and only for about a minute."
Inouye's smile vanished and he adopted a look of fatherly concern. It only served to make him appear even older and more exhausted.
"How many people have you killed out here, now? Six?"
"Eight," Marcus replied instantly. "The four that tried to break in here last year and four others who tried to jump me or someone I know."
"Yes, I remember the break in," Inouye sighed. "I'm glad all the damage was repaired. And they added the bars to the windows to keep it from happening again."
"And the security system," Marcus added. "It's my fault, really. Should have predicted such an eventuality and had those installed in the first place."
Inouye nodded grimly. "I heard all about last night. Figured the least I could do was visit to see if you were doing all right."
"I usually am," Marcus shrugged again.
"I also heard you had a friend over. A pretty girl, if the rumors are to be believed."
"Yes, Rosie," Marcus confirmed. "I think she's pretty enough, anyway."
"I'm glad you found a friend," Inouye smiled a little. "She still here?"
"Asleep upstairs," Marcus confirmed, seeing no reason to lie. It seemed that the story he had woven from thin air the night before had stuck, thankfully.
"How'd you meet her?"
Marcus laughed. "I do leave Iroquois Point every now and again, Governor. Don't look so surprised."
"Good," Inouye nodded, smiling, before changing the subject. "It's good to know you're doing well. My wife asks about you all the time. You know how she is. She worries."
"Apparently a lot of people do. I don't know how many times I have to tell General Carter that I'm doing just fine," Marcus said, thinking of the numerous times the General had sent out a patrol just to make contact with him, have an Airman hand him a phone and tell him the General wanted to speak to him.
"How is Rachel, anyway?" Marcus asked.
"She's doing well. Says I work too hard."
"Well, if you didn't, I imagine there'd be a fair to good chance that Oahu would flip over and capsize."
Inouye laughed. "Perhaps nothing so dramatic."
"With respect, Governor," Marcus began, leaning forward. "I know you're not here just to check in and bring me gifts. Though I do appreciate those, by the way."
Inouye waved his hand, dismissively. "Don't even worry about it. The only reason I had either is because I requested them long ago thinking you might just stop by once in a while to visit. Rachel always tells me she hopes you would."
"Well please do give Rachel my regards," Marcus nodded. "Now, Governor, how may I help you?"
Inouye sighed. "In light of what happened last night, both myself and General Carter are hoping you'll reconsider your stance on living here and return to Honolulu or Pearl Harbor-Hickam. We can set you up just about anywhere you want and can guarantee your safety. We even have room for you in the Governor's mansion, if you'd like. I know Rachel would be thrilled to have you."
Marcus didn't even need to think about it. "No, Governor. Nothing's changed in the nearly three years I've been out here. If I have to defend myself once or twice a year, that's acceptable to me."
Inouye didn't look surprised in the slightest. "No," he said. "I thought not... Would you consider having an armed contingent stationed here? It would only be four to six Airman and General Carter assures me she would have no issue finding volunteers."
"No, sir," Marcus said firmly. "This is exactly where I want to live and I don't need any babysitters."
"With the threat of armed attackers right outside your door?" Inouye pressed.
"Yes sir."
"I often regret authorizing you to live out here-"
"Governor," Marcus cut him off. "Do you know how many people I've killed?"
Inouye thought for a moment, before wordlessly shaking his head.
"Seventy-four. Including last night. Confirmed. Another dozen or so that I can't confirm. Here's where I belong, sir. I don't know how much time I have left, but I fully intend on spending it right here."
Governor Inouye didn't even blink. Marcus could tell that he had known the answer to all of his requests before he had even made them.
"There's always room for you back in the Air Force," Inouye stated, changing tactics.
Marcus didn't mean any disrespect, but he still laughed all the same. "I'm in no shape for military service, sir. Those days are long over."
"You're a natural leader, Marcus. Just like your father was. You could be put in a position of command only; not combat. Given a promotion to Chief, as well. You are universally respected in the service."
"My father was a Chief," Marcus replied. "He deserved it. I don't. Thank you, but no."
Inouye went silent again for a few moments and it occurred to Marcus that there seemed to be something else on the man's mind, perhaps something of even more importance.
"Is there something I need to know, sir...?" Marcus asked.
Inouye glanced up, towards the ceiling and Marcus instantly knew what he meant. "She's asleep, sir. Even if she wasn't, it's unlikely she could hear us from there."
Remaining silent for a few moments more, as if deep in thought, Inouye then sighed. "Officially, we have no direct contact with the continental United States. We can keep updated on anything that happens there because of the SSTOs and the personnel they bring from the mainland. But the only way that we can relay anything to the continent is via what they can see from the satellite."
Marcus nodded. "As has been the case for nearly a decade. And thank Christ for those SSTOs, or I don't know how I'd get my drink on."
"Well, that's... not exactly true," Inouye stated.
Marcus's eyes narrowed slightly. "Sir...?"
"For the past two years," Inouye began, "The United States has been testing a new stealth submarine that can pass right by the Fog without them knowing. There are four of them, currently, and each has made the trip to here and back safely three times."
"Testing," Marcus said, dumbfounded.
"That's correct. The testing phase has been completed and now the submarines are ready for their primary mission."
Inouye smiled. "In a month and a half, we can begin evacuating Hawaii from locations in Pearl Harbor. Civilians first, obviously. Each submarine can hold a thousand passengers and each one can make a trip every four weeks."
"Four thousand people a month," Marcus stated, awed.
Inouye nodded. "And that's just the beginning. They have ten more being built. All of those should be ready in the next eighteen months, including the testing process."
Inouye paused, smiling, to let that sink in. "In less than three years we can have everyone, everyone, out of Hawaii. And the President of the United States has ordered that you be on the first trip back. Naturally, we all hoped you would relocate to somewhere safer for your last few weeks here, but I suppose that's fine."
It wasn't often that Marcus was speechless, but here was one of those occasions. It took him nearly ten seconds to summon a response.
"That's absolutely incredible, Governor," Marcus smiled. "But, as I've told you before, and as I would gladly tell the President myself, I'm not going anywhere."
"Did you not hear what-"
"I certainly did, sir. My guess is the President gave the same order to you... Am I right?"
Inouye blinked. "Yes, you are. And I relayed to the President that I wouldn't leave until everyone else already had. I'll be on the last boat out."
"I'm surprised you'd even leave at all!" Marcus smiled.
"Hawaii is my home," Inouye said. "Of course it is. And maybe someday, I'll be able to return. But my duty is to the people right now, not the place. I intend to see everyone to our new, hopefully temporary home with the promise that we'll someday be able to come back."
"We'll have to wipe the Fog from the face of the Earth first."
"Yes. And to hear the President speak, one would think that isn't too far out of the realm of possibility for the future."
Marcus smiled again and leaned back. "Well, when that happens, I'll be right here waiting with a drink for you."
This was the first moment that Inouye had genuinely looked upset. "I can order you to be put on that submarine, you know... Do you think this is what your father would have wanted?"
Marcus's expression hardened a little. "It doesn't matter what he would have wanted. He's gone. I'm all that's left of him."
"They found your grandfather's house," Inouye said calmly.
Marcus's eyes widened. "What...?"
Inouye smiled again. "Yes. A few years back, using the information I remember your father mentioning to me. It's intact. Right outside of Lewis-McChord in Washington state... There's a small group of single Airman who've been assigned to live there to keep the place in perfect condition... That house... That's where you belong, Marcus. That's your home. I know that for a fact; your father told me as much. He said he wanted to pass the house to you and he wanted you to raise your own family there, in time. That was long before you enlisted, of course, but that's what he told me."
Marcus looked away for a moment, weighing his options, then he decided what to say.
"I'll tell you what, Governor... If it comes a time when those stealth submarines do work and everyone else has been pulled off these godforsaken islands safely... well, I'll be on the last boat. With you."
It only took a moment before Inouye grinned, leaned forward and offered his hand. Ever the politician.
"You have a deal, Marcus. I wish you would reconsider your housing arrangement, but I do understand your reasons."
Marcus leaned forward as well and accepted Inouye's hand, shaking it firmly. "Thank you, Governor... I was wondering if all of the seats on the first submarine have been taken?"
"No. We haven't even begun the selection process. That's slated to begin a week from tomorrow."
"Would it be possible... to ask you..." Marcus trailed off, struggling to voice his request.
"...To have seats assigned to people you know?" Inouye finished for him. "Absolutely. If I can't get you in a seat then I can certainly take your requests. Again, we're trying to evacuate civilians first."
"That's fine. And there should only be ten seats needed, maybe a dozen," Marcus said.
"Of course. Who?" Inouye asked.
"Elizabeth Sprague and her immediate family."
Inouye nodded knowingly. "Your former fiance."
"And her husband, daughter and both of their families. Parents and such. Shouldn't be more than a dozen people, if I remember correctly."
"I promise you, it'll get done," Inouye swore. "Is there anyone else?"
Marcus instantly thought of Rosie. "I'm not sure yet, sir. I'll get back to you in the next two or three days... And you have assurances that these submarines are safe? That they can truly get by the Fog undetected?"
"Take all the time you need. And yes, everyone in Washington from the President down has relayed to me as much," Inouye confirmed. "If we can't trust Washington's word, then we're all in trouble."
Marcus nodded, staring down at the floor, lost in thought for a moment. "I don't know how to begin to adequately thank you, Governor."
"You don't have to," Inouye smiled warmly. "And that's quite enough of that. I've told you before, call me Dave."
"Not going to happen, sir."
No," Inouye laughed. "Just like your father... You know, I was talking to General Carter the other day. She told me that, in her opinion, both you and your father are in the top five most important people to this state over the last fifteen years. Everyone in the United States knows who you are. The President's taken a special interest in what you've accomplished. He'll be upset to learn you're not on the first submarine out."
Marcus took all of that in, trying to keep his face as neutral as possible. He knew that the President was the former Air Force Chief of Staff, so the familial connection that went with wearing the same uniform was clearly evident.
"Well, that's awfully kind of the General," Marcus said, not commenting about the President. "As long as you're at the top of this list and my father's ahead of me, I don't have any issue with it."
Inouye just laughed and winked.
"Anyway, how rude of me," Marcus said, struggling to his feet and leaning heavily on his cane. "I was so concerned with what you had to say, I forgot to ask if you wanted anything. Hungry at all? Glass of water?"
"No, that's fi-"
Master Sergeant Mills suddenly burst through the door, a look a look of deep concern on his face. Marcus had his pistol in his hand before he had even realized he'd drawn it.
"Governor Inouye! Please get your armor back on and follow me to the APC."
"What's the problem, Sergeant?" Inouye asked.
"A Fleet of Fog carrier has been spotted off the coast," Mills said breathlessly. "We need to get you to the bunker now."
"Well," Marcus deadpanned. "That's not good."
Author's Note:
There Is A Town, by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds