Chapter 38

August 16^th was a dreary, rainy day. The weather had turned somewhat unseasonably cold and there was a light drizzle falling. Still it wasn't unreasonably cold out, so even wet the men weren't terribly troubled by the weather. They grumbled in a true soldier's fashion, but were not held back by it much.

The assembly area was full of fully armed soldiers, ready to be sent off on their first real mission since taking the town weeks before. They were to root out a nest of locals who had been terrorizing the Militia for several days.

The napalm strike had been frightening and nearly forty men had died as a direct result of the attack, but the men had drawn together in resolute solidarity.

There were some four hundred men on the assembly area, and all of them were standing at attention. The 'General' addressed them in typical form, his speech consisting of his signature "strength in power" mantra. He believed, and had a good many of his minions believing as well, that those with power were destined to do as they pleased. They believed that to live differently was somehow unholy and inherently wrong.

The irritating thing was that whoever had been doing the terrorizing had destroyed the roads leading out of the town toward the west. This was only a slight irritation with one exception: the bridge that crossed Silver Creek.

In order to get to the supposed stronghold of their enemy, the men would have to truck sixty-seven miles around cross country to another road and attack from the north, or ford the creek at some point. An old derelict bridge had been identified on an abandoned right-of-way north of the main highway perhaps a mile. It was there that the Militia planned to cross.

Engineers constructing a replacement bridge had been deemed prohibitively expensive as several overseers had been attacked by sniper fire and the workers had disappeared (apparently escaped as it were). To make matters worse still sentries had taken to ducking down below cover lest a bullet whiz in from parts unknown. Snipers apparently roamed the hills around and no excursions outside of town by any less than sixty men had returned.

And that particular expedition had returned with essentially nothing to show for its efforts. Whoever these people were, the 'General' reasoned, they knew what they were doing. It was their unrelenting attacks which had to be stopped. The morale of the Militia was at an all-time low.

With a wave of his hand and a salute the 'General' bid the men farewell and his Captains took over. Four Captains controlled one-hundred men below him, four squads of twenty five, a Lieutenant at the head of each.

With practiced military precision the men set off at a brisk walk toward the right-of-way. Unknown to the men marching in straight lines, that they were being watched.

Also unknown to them, was that their leader, though a competent manager, had them using inferior warfare tactics. Some tactics he had employed were straight out of the Napoleonic wars when repeating arms had not come along yet to remove the necessity to group together for protection. In fact grouping together was a huge liability as the weapons employed could kill many men at one time. Ignorance, however, is bliss. They believed they would be home victoriously before dark.

Derek stepped into the kitchen as the people off duty were having breakfast. Outside the compound there were several other informal gatherings going on. Breakfast was celebrated and served religiously in this time of famine. So many had not had enough to eat and were enjoying the multitude of food that Bryan had enabled the people to enjoy through his ability to hoard and procure food from its natural sources.

The look that Derek shot Bryan drug his attention away from the starch heavy meal on his plate. "What's wrong?" Bryan queried nervously. He suspected that he knew, and was somewhat disappointed when he was proven correct.

"It's begun," Derek said simply. "Pickets have reported that the Militia is moving forward, about four hundred strong up the right-of-way to cross the creek."

Bryan sat silently, unsure what to say. Finally he managed a simple. "Thank you," and began stuffing his breakfast down, knowing it would be some time before he was able to eat again. Silver looked at him and said nothing. She hurried about getting the children to finish their food as quickly as possible. It was her job to keep the kids in place and take them into the vault if the attack came that close.

Bryan pulled his boots on and stood up, to find Silver squarely in front of him. The look on her face was practically unreadable, almost somewhere between rage and terror, but neither fit. Without a word she wrapped her arms around his chest and squeezed. Bryan returned the embrace, surprised by the insistence and strength of it.

"You will come home to me," she said simply. It was not a question, not a request, not even an order. It was a statement, as if she were commenting that the color of the sky was blue.

He nodded insistently and was dismayed that a single tear had escaped her left eye and run down her cheek. He stroked her cheek, wiping the tear away and pressed his lips firmly to hers.

After a kiss that seemed to last minutes, she pressed on him, pushing him away. "Go," she said. "Go protect us. Go take care of this problem."

He nodded and turned to walk out. The sound of her voice behind him gave him pause. "I love you Hudson," she said, a warble to her voice as if she were having trouble keeping steady. "I will always love you."

He turned and looked at her, taking in the woman that he loved with every inch of his being. "I love you Silver," he replied. "More than anything in this world I love you. I will be back. I promise."

She nodded, saying nothing. He turned and stepped out the door. She watched as he walked toward the command center and out of sight. She turned away from the window, feeling like the world for her was ending. She closed her eyes, trying to find her center and noted that her heart rate was exceptionally high. She took a deep breath to calm herself down and control her excessive heart rate, and then turned back to the kitchen where she could address the issues at hand and occupy her mind.

The 'General' had retired to his study to read while he waited for the attack group to report in. His assistant had promised to bring him word as soon as there was anything to report. After an hour had passed there was a knock at his door. He stepped away from his desk and opened to door. There was a woman there. Clearly one of his inferiors had offered her to him to gain favor. He scowled at the woman. She wasn't very attractive, what with all the bruises on her face. Clearly she wasn't very obedient either. "I won't be needing serviced this morning," the 'General' said offhandedly. "You may go back to your barracks." He turned and stepped back toward his desk. "Close the door before you leave."

The 'General' was so used to the women around him being subservient that he was completely blindsided by the baton that cracked him at the base of the skull, rendering him immediately unconscious.

Meredith wiped the blood from the excessively hard blow off of the night-stick and stepped forward. On the 'General's' desk was a key ring. It contained the keys to the containment for both the harem and the worker's camps.

She caught sight of herself in the mirror behind the desk and paused, raising her hand to touch the bruise under her right eye.

She sighed, a new resolve coming to her and turned, kicking the 'General' in the face. The action clearly broke his nose, though he didn't stir. She pulled the man partly upright and with some duct tape that she had stashed under her "camp issued" skirt she gagged and hog-tied the man, still unconscious.