Chapter 61

0745 hours local time,
Monday, 30 June, 2014
Temporary Clarke Residence,
Roanoke, Virginia

“So, the George Thomas Line has held and then some. Lassard, of course, can now focus on this proposed operational force. There were several local attacks against it at Charlottesville, of course, this morning, all of them repelled with remarkable ease. Those could well be probing attacks, of course. I gather that Eckart is starting to sweat a bit. Hence the attempts to have me killed ... and probably have Austin here killed, I might add. It’s not all about me,” I stipulated.

“Yes, and the assaults upon the Stonewall Jackson Line have gone pretty well so far, along the Atlantic Front. Eckart is rapidly losing access to the Atlantic Shore, you see. This is a pretty scary scenario for him, for obvious reasons. Not only does he lose potential imports, but he loses a clear route of escape if and when things go down. It must surely frighten him, such a prospect. Preuss’s marines are clearly kicking ass all over the coastline, wresting whole beaches off Eckart,” Munson elaborated.

“Stonewall Jackson Line ... ain’t that something? Stonewall Jackson, for all of his flaws, would spit in Eckart’s face. He was a racist, like most men of his day, and he was a secessionist who favored slavery, but he was also no anti-Semite that I’ve ever heard. He didn’t support a foreign ideology like National Socialism. He was no fan of invading countries and seizing their lands, while exterminating people, not that I’ve seen or read. This is evident pandering to the damn neo-Confederates, whom he needs more than ever. He can’t afford to be all Nazi, all the time,” Austin observed, finding the whole business amusing in a jaundiced fashion.

“The sooner those pricks get rolled up like fucking carpets, the better,” Charity remarked, even as she sat on my lap and we fed each other eggs, grits, and sausage, “good fucking riddance, you know. I love how you keep celebrating Virginia Unionists, by the way. Pretty sweet. Winfield Scott, George Thomas, etc. You should do Francis Pierpont next. The Francis Pierpont Line has a nice ring to it. Past Virginians might not have liked it, but posterity is likely to be much less sympathetic to the whole ‘Lost Cause’ rubbish than their ancestors.”

“Well, you’re Virginians for now, at least, even if you’re originally from Frederick, Maryland. The Prophet here is originally a West Virginia hillbilly, but we count him, too, for obvious reasons. You’ve certainly left an impact here that will be felt for generations, if not longer, especially counting your progeny and future descendants,” Austin alluded to my rather fruitful loins.

“Oh, no doubt. Incidentally, we’ve had commitments from Ida and Emma in Greene County and Twin Lakes, respectively. Not large contingents, but volunteers, and they have their own local defense to consider, so there’s that. Fifty-eight volunteers from Greene County, thirty-two from Twin Lakes. Sheriff Lopez is reportedly seeking volunteers from Lancaster County, but no word on final numbers there. If he gets at least as many as Ida Finch, we’ll be doing tolerably well from there, probably get more, though. Lancaster County is a bit more populated, after all,” Munson noted with cautious optimism.

“We have now unconfirmed reports that some kind of outbreak has hit parts of Pennsylvania. There have been wild claims that it’s a form of smallpox, and to be fair, people in large parts of the globe have stopped being vaccinated, so it could well be that. Then again, it could be a mutated version of it. Of course, that’s a rumor at this point. If it is, it could kill a lot of folks before anyone gets a hold of it, though the many sparsely populated areas could delay its advance,” Hannah informed me now, even as she fondled Charity and me alike.