EMP Don't Mess With a Yeti

1

Every war is a war between minds.

YETI

The sound was soft, like the intimate murmur of tall grass in a slow breeze. I wasn’t sure I heard it. Pepper walked before me, tall, lithe, and alluring. My thoughts were of what she and I had done the night before. It was my first time, and hers too. She was more nonchalant about it than me. I smiled. She had been anything but indifferent in my arms.

I heard the sound again. This time I knew I heard something behind us.

I forced myself to focus only on our surroundings. I assure you, it's no easy task for a fifteen-year-old to ignore the girl of his dreams, especially...

This time the sound was louder. Not much, but louder. I studied the woods behind us. I saw nothing. Was a deer scratching for acorns in a hollow?

Dan was leading our party. If he heard the noise, he gave no sign. Nor did the three other men with us. Trish's head faced the direction of the sound. Unlike most eight-year-olds, this girl paid attention. Pepper ambled unaware, humming Jimmy Crack Corn in time with her steps. 

A huge sycamore tree loomed above like a vast green cloud, blocking the already parsimonious sunlight. Its white bark flashed in semi-darkness a few feet from the trail. I wondered how many old haint stories involved sycamore trees and drunk settlers.

I concentrated on my peripheral vision. That's where we see movement first. Yeah, it seems odd, but that's the way it is. Motion-sensitive peripheral vision helped our Paleolithic ancestors survive saber-tooth tigers and charging rhinoceros. I was hoping to use it to locate whatever moved out there.

Another sound, this one from a different direction.

Now, I'm no woodsman. I grew up in the New Mexico high desert, and these Illinois, river-bottom woods were strange to me. But I paid attention, at least when Pepper wasn't around. This time I knew it wasn't a deer moving near us. I heard a step. Not a hoof-step, a footstep. Were we followed? But the second sound was ahead of us. Dan's head pointed straight ahead. I couldn't tell if he heard it or not.

We walked another hundred feet, and I heard nothing else unusual. Trish fell back until she was walking beside me.

Did you hear it? she asked.

I nodded.

Hear what? Pepper asked.

There's something out there, Trish whispered.

Pepper looked around. Bad? she asked glancing up at me. I could see a hint of a smile on her face. I smiled too.

I shrugged and held my finger to my lips.

I'm gonna ask Dan if he heard anything, Pepper said. Trish, you coming?

Trish nodded her head. I listened as they trotted forward. Ten minutes later, I heard another noise, a quiet clank, the gentle tap of metal on metal. I thumbed the select-fire lever on my rifle to full-auto and kept walking.

Dan's head still pointed forward. He may not have heard the latest sound because of the chatter of the girls who flanked him. None of the others reacted to the sounds. I walked faster and caught up with Phil. There's something, or someone, out there. Stay alert and pass it on.

Phil nodded and sped up as I dropped back to drag.

Were they bandits, peaceful locals, or a few browsing deer? I doubted it was the senator's men. I reckoned they were still on the west side of the Mississippi River.

Two hundred yards farther along the trail, we came to a fissure, a jagged crack in the earth. It was five feet wide, three feet deep, and extended out of sight into the woods on either side of the trail. The fissure was fresh, a remnant of the recent earthquake.

Dan signaled for everyone to halt. Phil and Tom took the perimeter and Dan motioned for me to move forward.

Did you hear? he whispered.

I nodded.

How many?

At least three, I said.

I counted five.

Dan was the best outdoorsman and tracker I’d ever met. Even past sixty, his hearing was unequaled. I figured his poker face was even better because, on the trail, he’d given no sign that he heard anything.

What should we do? I asked

Hole up here. This ditch will give us some protection if needed.

Which was why you stopped here?

Dan nodded.

We hunkered down in the fissure, ankle deep in mud. My nose was almost overwhelmed by the thick, mildewy smell of composting leaf litter washed into the crack from the forest floor.

Dan and Phil left to scout the noises. Pepper leaned against me as we crouched in the fissure. She pressed her lips to my ear and whispered, What do you think, Yeti?

The touch of her lips and the smell of her perfume took me back to the night before. I mentally slapped my brain and told it to quit daydreaming. After the third slap, my mind complied. I'm not sure. There may be several people out there. We may be in trouble.

Oh, we'll be alright.

I wished I agreed with Pepper. She said I worried too much. Wayne, my dad, said I saw more possibilities than most people, and, if carefully managed, that was a good thing. I wasn't so sure it was.

A single gunshot startled me. I motioned for Pepper to dive to the bottom of the fissure. She dropped quickly, flattening out in the dark brown mud. Trish was already there, nearly buried in the ooze.

The gunshot came from somewhere in front of us. Echoes from the trees around us made it difficult to pinpoint the shooter’s location. It wasn't Dan's rifle I heard, but it might have been Tom's. Phil and José were looking in the same direction as I was. I turned and faced the other way, just in case.

We waited. It's surprising how much of life is waiting, especially since the EMP. Sometimes there's nothing else you can do. After fifteen minutes, Pepper started to stand up. I shook my head. She sank back to the bottom of the fissure and threw a handful of mud at me. She missed, but I think she meant to. I had enough dirt on me already. My boots were giant clumps of muck, and my jeans were more brown than blue.

I set my hat aside and smeared mud onto my face and into my hair. It might not be as good as camo paint, but it'd have to do. I crouched so only my eyes and the top of my head were above the edge of the fissure. It was a cramped position, but I stuck it out.

Three shots splintered the quiet. Other than the gunfire, I heard nothing.

I waited. I was aware of Pepper beside me, but I forced that awareness to the back of my mind. Now was not the time to indulge in hormone-induced fantasies. I smiled, briefly thinking of Pepper’s promise to me the night before. Then, I shut out everything but the now.

 I heard another noise in the woods. Something, or somebody, was coming toward us. I scanned the woods seeking anything out of place. Nothing. There was no movement and no sound. I waited.

I heard the sound again like someone stomped a crisp French-fry. A twig?

The forest floor was wet from heavy rain the day before, a real turkey-drowner. I wished it were later in the year and the fallen leaves were dry and crunchy instead of saturated and pliable.

Then I saw a bush move. I stared at the bush for almost a minute before I realized it wasn't a bush. It was a man in a ghillie suit. What the hell would a man in a ghillie suit be doing here? I eased my rifle into position to cover him.

I saw a camouflaged rifle barrel rise from the green, gray, and brown clump. I fired a three-round burst for center of mass. The ghillie suit shook like a bowl of chlorophyll-colored jello. The rifle barrel dipped.

Suddenly the rifle barrel jerked upward. Either my shots missed, or the SOB was wearing armor. I fired again, a three-round burst aimed where his head should be. He collapsed into a pile of undulating camouflage.

I was ready for an attack. For a full five minutes, nothing happened.

What did you shoot at? Pepper asked, scrunching deeper into the mud beside me.

A man, I said. I motioned for Pepper to be quiet just in case our attackers didn’t realize we had a woman with us. I would tell Pepper the details later.

José asked, Did you get him?

I nodded,You see anything?

Nada, not a thing. José checked his rifle and peered into the forest.

I smeared more mud on my shirt to cover a patch of blue denim had shown when I rose to shoot. No point in making a target of myself again. Pepper smeared mud on my back, and then the girls took turns camouflaging each other with mud. If I survived, I vowed to get a set of camos to replace my denim jeans and shirt. José and Tom didn't bother with the mud camouflage.

Before I had time to suggest they mud up, the bushes around us came alive. It seemed like a hundred bushes were charging us, but it was only a dozen men in ghillie suits. I emptied my magazine with no effect.

While I was trying to stuff another magazine into the well, four men dressed in camouflage rushed from the underbrush only ten yards from us. A big man tackled me and knocked my rifle out of my hands before I could slam the magazine home. I punched him in the face and kneed him in his giggle-berries as we went to the bottom of the fissure. He screamed, and I rolled him off me and stood, reaching for my now mud-covered pistol holstered on my belt.

A shot rang out. Tom collapsed. José was changing a mag. Two men tackled me before I could bring my pistol into play. My .45 spun out of my hand and disappeared into the mud. I almost managed to stand up again when two more men dove onto the pile.

They pulled me from the fissure and searched me for weapons, no easy feat now that I wore far more mud than clothes. I noticed that more men, sans ghillie suits, were searching Pepper and José. Tom lay draped over the edge of the fissure. He wasn't moving. There was no sign of Dan or Phil. I suddenly realized Trish was gone. Maybe she got away? I hoped so.

You are Yeti?

The man's face was as hard as a porcelain doll but decidedly uglier.

Who are you? I asked.

I do the questioning here, not you.

Six more men led Dan out of the woods, his hands tied behind him. Phil wasn't with him. I looked at Dan. He shook his head, and I knew Phil was gone.

I asked if you are Yeti. The man poked me with the barrel of his rifle. Don't mess with me, Boy. Tell me your name.

I'm Yeti. I stared back at the man. He wore no insignia but had a military look about him. He was fit, as fit as anyone I had ever met. Not tall, not short, just all business.

The man gave a series of hand signals, and his men began to tie us up. Soon, Dan, Pepper, José, and I were bound and laid out on the ground.

I counted twenty-one attackers, not including the one I nailed. Who were they? Were they the senator's men? They were disciplined and acted with no hesitation. Were they former military?

The leader stood over me. What are you going to do with us? I asked.

You'll find out soon enough, he said.

THE SENATOR

The senator sat behind an over-sized, polished mahogany desk. A ham radio powered by two car batteries sat on the credenza behind his desk.

There was a knock on the door. The senator glanced at the doorway and, placing one folder under another, said, Come in.

The door opened, and Tar entered the room. Every time the senator saw Tar fill a doorway, he thought he looked like a giant version of the World's Strongest Man. The senator did not doubt that Tar was almost as powerful as the world's strongest man and much deadlier.

The senator shuddered at the thought of having to face such a man as Tar, even with his pistols. His left hand instinctively touched the Colt 1903 in his right shoulder holster.

Of course, Joe Brandy wasn't afraid of Tar. Tar was loyal to the senator alone and had proved that many times over. As always, the senator looked for some sign of the guns Tar always carried. None showed through his tailored suit jacket.

Senator.

Yes Tar.

I have a report our people captured Yeti and his group.

That is perfect.

Senator, are you going to proceed with your plan?

Why, yes, of course.

I don't think there’s any need to be so harsh, Senator.

I disagree, Tar.

There was another knock at the door, and the senator saw one of his aides standing in the doorway with a sheaf of papers.

Tar, this will only take a second.

Yes, Senator.

The senator waved the aide through the doorway. What do you have for me, James?

Senator, these are the new publicity fliers. They're ready for your approval.

The senator rose from behind his desk as the aide approached. The senator took a copy of the flier and laid it out on his desk. It was small, much smaller than he wanted. Since the EMP, printing presses were hard to find. Travis Yoshida had managed to find an antique, hand-cranked, printing press and put it back in service. These were the largest fliers the press could print. They would have to do, even if the photos were black and white.

The senator studied the flier. The first picture showed senator Joe Brandy in shirt-sleeves helping a local survivor in a garden. It was a staged photo, but the senator doubted the survivors would realize that.

As always, the senator had supreme faith in his abilities. However, he lacked confidence in his constituent’s competence. The people said they wanted to know his detailed positions on topics of importance. That was bullshit. What the people wanted were funny cat videos, top ten lists, celebrity gossip, stupid reality TV shows, and tabloid tripe. They knew nothing about the government except where to get handouts.

So here it was, the entertainment the people craved. The senator as a hero, helping a few survivors, and pictures of him with children from the orphanage. Just pet the dog and kiss the baby pictures, nothing of substance.

But then, little in Washington ever had substance. It was all about perception and appearance. Hell, nobody in Washington even knew what the truth was. Except for the senator. Joe Brandy knew precisely what he was doing. After all, he had planned for eight years.

Senator, are these adequate?

Looking up at his aide, the senator said, Yes, James, these are excellent. Please put 5,000 copies into the distribution network as soon as possible.

Yes, Sir, the aide gathered up the fliers and left.

Tar waited until the aide was out of earshot. Why do you want Yeti so badly, Senator?

It’s not for revenge, Tar. I assure you of that. No, Yeti is exceptionally bright. I need his mind working on our side.

If that's so, Senator, I advise you not to have Yeti's friends killed. Incurring his wrath may not be wise. Yeti isn't a career politician who understands the impersonal nature of politics. He's a fifteen-year-old kid who will take it hard.

So, you think Yeti is even more capable than I believe?

Yes, Sir.

And this is your way of telling me not to mess with a Yeti?

Tar laughed. Yes, Sir.

I will take that under advisement, Tar. Thank you. That will be all.

Yes, Sir. Tar left the room.

The senator poured himself a shot of bourbon and sat down beside the radio. Once he was sure that Tar was out of hearing distance, he took a swig and keyed the microphone. Commander Donovan, can you hear me?

After three tries the radio crackled, and the senator received a response.

Yes, Sir. I can hear you, Senator.

I understand you have captured the targets?

Yes, Sir, that's correct.

And everything is as planned?

Yes, Sir.

Then here are my orders.

YETI

Surrounded by our captors, we walked single file. They led us from the woods into a small pasture. At the edge of the field, almost hidden by the trees, were twelve small, camouflaged tents. There was no campfire. I figured they had taken precautions to keep us from smelling smoke. It had worked.

Stop here.

We stopped. And we waited. It was beginning to look like our captors didn't want to kill us.

The commander walked over to where I was standing, and said, You. Come with me.

Who hired you? The senator? I asked.

The commander said nothing. I felt a rifle barrel slam into my back, so I followed the commander. We walked across the camp to a table. On the table was a battery powered ham radio. The antenna wire was strung high in a tree. Under favorable conditions, the transmitter would reach the Dallas area. I was beginning to think these were the senator’s men.

The commander sat down in a folding chair. The commander periodically checked his watch. Soon, I heard a familiar voice over the radio.

Commander Donovan, can you hear me?

The commander responded, Yes, Sir, I hear you.

I understand you have captured the targets?

It was the senator. Too many long conversations and chess games made it impossible for me to mistake his voice.

Yes, Sir, that's correct.

And everything is as planned?

Yes, Sir.

Then here are my orders.

Yes, Sir.

Yeti's companions are to be executed for crimes against the United States.

Yes, Sir. I will take care of that, the commander said.

I jerked free of the hands restraining me and kicked Commander Donovan in the head. My kick propelled him out of his chair. Four men tackled me and held me down. Once, I almost broke free. Then, two more men grabbed me as well.

The commander rose from the ground, shaking his head. It was a full five minutes before he could speak. Quite a kick you got there, Yeti. But it won't do you any good.

I surged toward him, but the guards stopped me.

You men take those two captives over there. The commander pointed to a pile of dirt some distance away in the pasture. For the first time, I realized it was an open grave.

Three men escorted Dan and José toward the dirt pile. My heart almost stopped beating, and then I realized that Pepper was still standing beside me. Maybe they would spare her. I wasn't worried about myself, I just hoped she survived.

Close to the dirt pile, the men forced Dan and José to kneel on the ground. One of them pulled a pistol. I could not believe I was watching this. It had to be a dream. Dan, who was like an uncle to me, who had taught me so much since the EMP, who was so much a part of my life, was going to be killed, as was José, my easy-going friend from the caravan.

The scene reminded me of that infamous 1968 picture from Vietnam, in which General Loan, the Saigon police chief, executed a Viet Cong with a revolver. That picture was in a school history book. It seemed unreal to me at the time. Now it didn’t.

A shot rang out, and José collapsed. I shuddered and struggled. The men held me tighter. I watched as two men pushed José's body into the open grave. Then a man held a pistol to Dan's head. I willed the gun to misfire. It didn't. A shot rang out, and Dan collapsed. Two men dumped his body into the open grave along with José’s.

Near me, Pepper was in tears. My cheeks were wet as well. I couldn't believe what I had seen. Dan and Jose were dead. Of all I had seen since the EMP, this was the most horrifying.

Commander Donovan approached. He stood before me and stared at the tears running down my cheeks. Gee, you're one big fucking baby. Well kid, you better toughen up, because the worst is yet to come. The commander turned to a subordinate and said, Take the girl into the woods and kill her. This boy is too much of a baby to be able to watch that.

You sadistic son of a bitch!

I'll take that as a compliment, Yeti. The commander’s lizard eyes showed no reaction. Three men grabbed Pepper and began to force her into the woods. She looked at me with tears in her eyes. I love you, Yeti.

I love you too, Pepper.

I was mad. I wasn't going to stand by while someone murdered the woman I loved. I suddenly crouched, pulling the men holding me down with me. Then I stood, throwing two of them off me. Four men still had hold of me. I snapped my wrists against my bonds. Then I did it again getting madder with every second that passed. The second time I broke the three cable ties that bound my wrists. I managed to knock four of my captors down before more men tackled me. I fought as hard as I could to stand, but the combined weight of the senator's men, twelve of them, was too much. I struggled for almost five minutes, once managing to rise to my knees. Then a gunshot shattered my life and crushed my heart.

That was it. Pepper, the love of my life, was dead.

My captors pulled me to my feet and bound my hands again, this time using a full dozen cable ties. In spite of my continued struggles I couldn’t break the cable ties, nor could I escape.

Standing there, held in place by a half-dozen men, I watched two soldiers carry Pepper's body from the woods only two hundred feet away. I recognized her muddy clothes and the color of her hair. It was Pepper. I struggled as the two soldiers dumped her body into the grave with Dan and José and began to shovel dirt into the pit.

I felt weak. My knees felt like they were on strike, and I nearly fell. I should've been able to do something to save Dan, José, and Pepper, but I wasn’t able to. Tears ran down my face, and my chest tightened until I could neither speak nor move. The senator did this. But why did he let me live and not the others?

YETI

Break camp, The commander yelled, waving one arm overhead like he was a wagon train master. I watched as the men disassembled their camp and loaded the gear onto three packhorses.

I still couldn’t believe Pepper was dead. And Dan and José as well. There’d been no need to murder them. Maybe the senator thought he had reason to kill my people, but he didn't. All any of us in the caravan wanted was the chance to find a safe and peaceful place to live. That dream was gone for me now, gone forever the instant I saw my captors push Pepper's body into the grave.

Before the EMP, I knew monsters existed, although to my knowledge I’d never met one. But I read about them from time to time on the Internet, or in the newspaper.

Since the EMP, we had encountered a disproportionate number of monsters. Was it because beasts in people's clothing were ruthless and survived more often than regular people? Or was it because there were many more savages in the pre-EMP world than any of us ever dreamed? For the first time in my life, I, a rebellious and egotistical teenager, began to appreciate the rule of law.

A guard pulled me to my feet and six men escorted me to the horses. A skinny soldier with a scar across one eye tied a rope around my neck and handed the other end to a burly man on horseback. The rider looked out of place in his camos and combat boots. But then, I grew up in New Mexico where anything other than cowboy boots and jeans was unusual.

Commander Donovan walked over to me. A loop of rope was around my neck. One of the rider's held the other end. My hands were tied behind my back.

I asked, What are you going to do with me? I guess I failed to hide my anger because the commander backed up when I spoke. He speedily regained his composure.

The senator wants to see you.

You could have just asked, I said.

I'm just following orders, commander Donovan said.

Every Nazi hunted down and hung after WWII said the same, I said.

I saw a trace of fear flash across the commander's face. So, the man wasn't as hard as he tried to appear. I might be able to use that knowledge.

Soon we were underway, the soldiers riding, and me walking. Surrounded by wannabe cavalry on horseback, I trudged forward. Walking gave me time to think.

I thought about Pepper. I tried to think about escape, but