Broken Lives: A Tale of Survival in a Powerless World (Broken Lines Book 4) (9 page)

Both Colonel Cadogan and Sergeant Blake escorted Mike to Bram’s apartment. He was patted down three different times: once before he entered the building, once before he was allowed in the elevator, and one more time before he was ushered onto Bram’s penthouse floor.

Mike stepped out of the elevator and was escorted into Bram’s living room.

The furniture was simple, but modern. There were a few paintings and pictures placed on various walls. The wood floors were shined and glossy.

There was a table set with fine silverware and a four-course meal. The meal consisted of ham, mashed potatoes, salad, fruit, bread, and green beans, all with steam rising from the plates. Mike let his hands run across the fine lace of the tablecloth.

But everything else failed in comparison to the view that the apartment granted. The entire south wall was a window giving a panoramic picture of the city and the Ohio River.

“It’s nice to see civility again, isn’t it?” Bram asked.

“The pat downs on the way up suggested security over civility.”

“Well, one has to be careful these days as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“I’m aware.”

Bram gestured to the couch.

“Please, have a seat,” Bram said. “How has your family adjusted to their new home?”

“We’re fine.”

“I hear your daughter has an aptitude for the military.”

“Who are you?”

Two crystal-stemmed glasses sat on the small table between them. Bram picked one of them up, pinching the thin stem between his fingers. The rays of sunlight coming through the windows filtered through the crystal’s glass, separating the sunlight into different colors on the floor.

“Prisms are remarkable,” Bram said. “If you take white light and point it through a crystal prism, the light will separate into all its natural components. Now the degree of separation depends on the angle in which the light enters the prism. It takes a precise measurement to disperse all of the white light.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Who I am and what I do is much like this prism. I help breakdown matter into its purest nature.”

Two waiters entered the living room and filled the crystal glasses with water, which they served along with a plate of pierogies.

“I’m told they’re a Pittsburgh staple,” Bram said.

Bram picked up one of the Polish dumplings and popped it into his mouth.

“Delicious,” Bram said.

“You obviously brought me here for something. Now, it’s either because you think I’m a threat, or you think I can help you. So which is it?” Mike asked.

Bram grabbed the napkin on the table in front of him and wiped his fingers harshly.

“Should I be worried about you, Mr. Grant? From what I hear about your group you’ve been through quite a bit, seen a lot of violence. Are you planning on continuing that trend here with us?” Bram asked.

“Not if I don’t have to.”

“Good.”

Bram pulled a phone out of his pocket and placed it to his ear.

“Bring it in,” he said.

A few moments later Colonel Cadogan returned with Sergeant Blake. Cadogan carried a briefcase and the two men joined Mike and Bram.

Cadogan opened the briefcase and pulled out a laptop. When he turned the laptop around for everyone to view, there was a picture of Dr. Wyatt on the screen.

“Do you know this man?” Cadogan asked.

“No, I’ve never seen him before,” Mike replied.

“This is Dr. Quinn Wyatt. He worked for the EPA before the blackout. About seven months ago he was in front of a Senate hearing involving his research on the vulnerability of our country’s utilities,” Blake said.

“The Senate hearing never finished and Wyatt was branded a lunatic,” Cadogan continued.

“Before the blackout I was CEO and president of a microprocessor manufacturer. I read Dr. Wyatt’s research and he mentioned that one area where the country was susceptible to attack was an EMP. Due to my business interests his report caught my attention,” Bram said.

“What happened?” Mike asked.

“I brought him on as a consultant in hopes of developing a new processor that could withstand a high-powered EMP attack like the one described,” Bram said.

“What was in it for you?” Mike asked.

“If we could prove the danger of an EMP attack and successfully patent an EMP-resistant microprocessor, it would be worth billions,” Bram answered.

“So, what went wrong?” Mike asked.

“Dr. Wyatt was still hell bent on making Congress pay for branding him a lunatic. Instead of developing a prototype, he used Mr. Thorn’s facilities to manufacture an EMP device strong enough to take out the entire country,” Cadogan said.

“Even high-powered EMPs have a limited range. The only way it would have worked was if the device was detonated in the atmosphere,” Mike said.

“I’ve had some military contracts in the past. Dr. Wyatt forged paperwork with my signature telling the Pentagon about the work he was performing and how it could be used for military applications,” Bram said.

“He then used those military connections to have a mercenary unit sneak into a missile silo in Kansas where he launched the device,” Cadogan said.

“We didn’t find out that he was involved until after we arrived in Cincinnati. One of my manufacturing plants was located here and we had started producing some first generation EMP-resistant chips at this location. We installed them in certain public and private buildings, which is why we were able to get most of the city up and running so quickly after the blast,” Bram said.

“I’ve been in contact with Washington and we’re home base for now until we can ship out repairs to the rest of the country. We have a three-month timeline right now of getting power back on in all major cities,” Cadogan said.

“So what does all this have to do with me?” Mike asked.

“Dr. Wyatt’s still in Cincinnati, and he’s been trying to undermine our operation since he arrived here,” Blake said.

“He’s held up south of the Ohio River and he’s been preventing us from getting supplies to the southern states,” Bram replied.

“He’s surrounded himself with extremists who are using the EMP attack as an opportunity to establish a new government. We believe he’s running out of resources though,” Cadogan said.

“The biggest advantage Wyatt has right now is the river. There’s only one working bridge and he has a stronghold on it. If we can take control of the bridge then we’ll be able to hit them on their turf,” Blake said.

“And we want you, Kalen, and Sam to be a part of the raid,” Bram said.

“Aside from a few military personnel, most of the members of our units are civilians with limited combat experience. You and your group, however, have quite a bit of experience,” Cadogan said.

“No, my daughter will not be a part of this. No one from my group will,” Mike said.

Mike rose from his chair and headed to the elevator. He didn’t have to take orders from these people, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to put his daughter on the front lines of a war.

“You realize what this is, Mike?” Bram asked. “We don’t stop him and everything we have is in jeopardy. And not just for your family, but every family in the entire country.”

“That’s not my problem,” Mike said.

“It’s not up to you,” Blake said.

“My answer wasn’t a suggestion,” Mike said, hitting the down button of the elevator.

“Your daughter has an assignment, and she will follow her orders,” Blake replied.

Mike’s knuckles cracked as he squeezed his hands into fists at both sides. He slowly turned from the elevator.

“You’re not seeing the bigger picture here. If we lose Cincinnati it could take years for this country to rebuild,” Cadogan said.

There was a sidearm on Blake’s hip. Mike could see Blake’s fingers itching to grab it.

“Go on,” Mike said, gesturing at Blake’s gun. “Try it. But you better put me down because if you don’t my face will be the last one you see on this earth.”

Blake’s hand was gripped around the pistol’s handle now. Mike took a step forward and he could see Blake’s arm tense up.

“Blake, stand down,” Bram said.

Blake released his grip and took his seat. Bram ran his hands through his hair and walked over to Mike. His voice was low when he spoke.

“Everyone in this room has made sacrifices. All of us have lost more than we care to talk about, but we’re so close. We’re almost at the finish line. All we need is one last push, Mike, and then we’ll be done. Nobody will ask anything from you or your family again,” Bram said.

Mike wanted to believe him. He wanted to believe that everything was almost over, that he just needed to go a little bit further and they’d be in the clear, but Mike knew better. There was always something else, and it always came at a very high price.

“When was the last time you were in combat, Sergeant?” Mike asked.

“November 2013. I was in Afghanistan,” Blake replied.

“You have any close brothers that made it out of Afghanistan alive, but never really came home?”

“Yes.”

“A month ago I had to ground my daughter for getting a D on her report card,” Mike said. “Last week I watched her shoot a man in the head in the middle of the street.”

Cadogan rubbed the stubble on his face. Blake didn’t know where to look, except the ground. Bram was the only person who still held Mike’s gaze.

“I think me and my family have pushed far enough,” Mike said.

The elevator door pinged open and Mike stepped inside. He hit the bottom floor button and when the doors to the elevator closed, he took in the faces staring back at him. Cadogan looked depressed, Blake was angry, and Bram’s was curious.

Mike didn’t break his stride as he rolled past the soldiers that frisked him before entering the building. As he walked back to the hotel he passed couples and families in the streets, enjoying the sunshine.

He should have felt happy at that moment, seeing the normalcy of what an afternoon should be, safe. But the only emotion that overtook him was animosity.

Mike hated those families. None of them had experienced what his own went through. None of them were being called on now to sacrifice more. Just him.

Then he noticed the stares of the people he passed. Everyone was avoiding him, moving out of his way. He couldn’t tell why until he caught his reflection in a window. The man staring back at him wasn’t recognizable. The look on his face was resentful. Vicious.

He stood there, studying the face until it was one he remembered. His mind went back to his father. He desperately wanted him to tell him what to do, but it wasn’t an answer that he was going to get.

Anne wasn’t home when Mike made it back to the hotel, so he decided to head to the school to see Freddy.

All of the kids were outside, playing kickball in the small field next to the school. The teams were split up in an even mix of different age groups.

All the children wore smiles on their faces. They were in that moment of pure joy, oblivious to the world beyond the game they were playing.