Memphis Run

Chapter Six

Memphis was a typical post-apocalypse metropolis, a wrecked relic of a bygone era, some areas a shadowy shambles, other areas partially, crudely restored. Like many an American city, Memphis had been spared a direct nuclear strike. World War Three had not resulted in the ultimate Armageddon everyone feared. Neither side wanted to thoroughly annihilate the other; conquest was the goal, and conquest implied having something worth conquering after the last missile was launched and the decisive bomb dropped. The American public, conditioned to near-mass hysteria by an alarmist, self-aggrandizing media and headline-seeking politicians, expected the world to wither and die, totally ignoring the lessons to be learned from Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Within 40 years of World War Two, within four decades of the date the first atomic bomb was used on major cities, both seaports were inhabited by predominantly healthy citizens and could boast gardens the equal of any others on the planet.

The aftermath of World War Three was no different. Cities like New York and San Diego, struck by large-megaton weapons, were reduced to molten slag. But municipalities such as Memphis, lacking any primary military significance, were seldom hit. In military circles, Memphis was rated as a secondary target, not worthy of being hit in the first strike, and consequently slated for one of the follow-up bomber or missile attacks.

Fortunately for Memphis, the war was over before the Soviets could get around to destroying it.

All of these recollections filtered through Rikki-Tikki-Tavi’s mind as the two jeeps traveled into the heart of the city. Most of the buildings were vacant and dilapidated. Rikki speculated that the populace had been evacuated once, for whatever reason, and had never returned. He knew the government had forcibly transported people from the Eastern cities to the Midwest. Perhaps the population of Memphis was one of those forced to relocate. Since then, the city had literally gone to the dogs.

Packs of canines roamed the streets seeking rats and other small game.

Piles of refuse littered the sidewalks. Looters had wrecked all the business establishments, and the residential neighborhoods were in an advanced stage of disrepair. Overall, Memphis reeked, a subtle, putrid odor permeating the oppressive atmosphere. The dogs were in their element, scouring the buildings and alleys for meals and functioning as a collective early-warning system for the other inhabitants of Memphis.

The humans.

Occupying decayed, ramshackle structures in the center of Memphis, the human element was a motley collection of scavengers, outlaws, and outcasts. Except for the Hounds, whose neat black uniforms lent them the distinction of seeming to be from a higher, advanced civilization, the people of Memphis were attired in grubby clothes only a degree cleaner than themselves.

Rikki memorized the sequence of highways and streets the jeeps traversed for future use. They entered Memphis on U.S. Highway 78, which became Lamar Avenue, and eventually turned south on Airways Boulevard. The next turn, on Ball Road, was to the west.

“Our Headquarters Complex,” General Thayer said, indicating a fenced area adjacent to Ball Road to the north.

Rikki noticed a bustle of activity on the far side of the fence. Men in black were drilling in a parking lot, marching and exercising and practicing hand-to-hand combat. Others were loading equipment and supplies into a parked convoy of eight trucks. Rikki abruptly realized he’d seen only four battered cars and one pickup the whole trip. “Did you construct your headquarters?” he idly asked.

“We repaired this installation,” Thayer said. “This facility was the Memphis Defense Depot before the war, and it was a junky dump when we took it over. The King wanted us to have our headquarters located near his mansion, and this was convenient. Took us months to fix the site up.”

“The King isn’t here?”

General Thayer laughed. “The King is at his mansion. He wouldn’t live in a barracks with two dozen grunts.”

“When will I meet him?”

“What’s your rush, pal?” General Thayer responded. “After I detail a platoon to go back and nab your buddies, we’ll be heading for the King’s mansion.”

“Is such a plan wise?” Rikki inquired.

“What do you mean?”

“Can you afford to lose more men?” Rikki elaborated.

“Smart ass,” General Thayer mumbled. He chewed on his lower lip nervously.

Rikki noted the officer’s reaction. “I understand that you trained the Hounds,” he remarked.

“Yes,” General Thayer said proudly. “I whipped a no-talent bunch of misfits into a top-notch fighting outfit.”

“Your men did display outstanding discipline when they attempted to subdue me,” Rikki conceded.

General Thayer was genuinely flattered. “Thank you. Coming from a man of your caliber, that’s quite a compliment.”

“And where did you acquire your expertise?” Rikki asked tactfully.

In the twinkling of an eye, the officer’s expression changed drastically.

He frowned and averted his eyes.

“The general’s past is a sensitive subject,” Sergeant Boynton said. “One better left alone.”

“I can speak for myself. Sergeant,” General Thayer stated.

“Sorry, sir.”

Thayer cleared his throat and looked at the martial artist. “My prior experience was acquired in Sparta.”

Rikki’s brow creased. “Sparta?”

“You’ve never heard of it?” General Thayer asked.

“We studied the history of Greece in our school,” Rikki said. “We learned about Sparta, Athens, and the rest of the Greek city-states. Sparta was renowned for her military prowess and for the quality of her soldiers.

The Spartans and the Japanese samurai were the two greatest warrior castes the world has ever seen.”

“Again you impress me,” General Thayer declared. “But I wasn’t referring to the Spartans of antiquity. Another Sparta has arisen.”

Rikki’s surprise showed.

“I was born in Sparta,” General Thayer went on without noticing. “I spent thirty years of my life there, and I was trained by Spartan instructors. There are none finer.”

“Where is this new Sparta located?” Rikki queried.

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“I’d like to hear about it,” Rikki said, hoping to coax the information from the officer. Another Sparta! If the new one was anything like the ancient Sparta, the Family Elders would be intensely interested in ascertaining Sparta’s location. And the Freedom Federation would welcome another ally.

“I can’t say,” General Thayer snapped. “I won’t say. I pledged never to reveal Sparta’s location, and it’s a promise I’ll never break.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I didn’t leave,” Thayer said, downcast. “I was booted out.”

Rikki was an astute judge of human nature, and he perceived an incongruity in the general’s behavior. The Spartans expelled the man, yet he held them in the highest regard. Why? He waited for Thayer to elaborate, but the general changed the subject.

“So I drifted like a common scavenger until I reached Memphis,” Thayer detailed. “The King was in the process of organizing his campaign.

Boynton and a few others were already with him. He saw fit to honor me with command, and I haven’t disappointed him.”

The jeeps were slowing as they neared a gate.

“What is the King’s campaign?” Rikki probed.

“Ask him when you meet him,” General Thayer said.

A pair of men in black, both with slung AR-15’s, stood guard at the closed gate. They saluted the general as his jeep braked, then hurried to swing the gate inward.

“I haven’t noticed any female Hounds,” Rikki commented.

“And you won’t,” General Thayer said. “The King doesn’t want women in his army. He claims women are inferior fighters.”

“He is mistaken,” Rikki said. “I have close friends, female Warriors, who are the equal of any man.”

“You know he’s wrong, and I know he’s wrong, but I’m not about to commit suicide by telling the King to his face,” General Thayer declared.

The jeep drove into the complex.

“He would kill you?”

“In a minute, if killing me suited his purpose,” Thayer said. “But he won’t because I’m valuable to him. I’ve created a crack tactical unit he can employ to further his ambition. He has the grand schemes, and I put them into effect.”

“Why do you work for him if he is so unstable?” Rikki asked.

The former Spartan gazed thoughtfully at the martial artist. “I’ve asked myself the same thing time and again.” He sighed. “I guess I’m trying to prove something to myself, to prove I’m competent at my trade. Besides, I have nowhere else to go. Memphis is as good as anywhere else.”

“So you work for a man who is mentally unbalanced,” Rikki remarked.

“I never said that,” General Thayer responded testily. “And quit trying to put words in my mouth. It won’t work.”

“What?”

“Don’t play innocent with me,” Thayer declared. “You’re trying to turn me against the King. Well, you’re wasting your time. For better or worse, I’m with the King for the duration.”

The jeeps braked in front of a large structure fabricated from corrugated metal and painted green.

“This is my Command Center,” General Thayer disclosed. “You will stay in the jeep while I attend to dispatching a platoon.” He looked at the noncom. “Watch him closely. Sergeant.”

“Yes, sir.”

The officer entered the Command Center.

“I like him a lot,” Sergeant Boynton mentioned.

“Do you like the King too?” Rikki inquired.

Boynton shrugged. “I’m not being paid to like the King, just to kick ass for him. And I like kicking ass.”

“The King pays you?”

“Did you think we’re all in this for our health?” Sergeant Boynton rejoined. “Except for the general, the rest of us are in this for the gold.”

“Gold?”

“The King has a hoard of gold in his mansion,” Boynton said. “A room full of the stuff. Gold, mister, is the one commodity you can exchange everywhere. Gold talks. It’s not like the old paper money, which isn’t worth the paper it was printed on. Oh, I hear that a few places will honor the paper junk, but only because they can’t print their own— and even then they back the paper crap with gold or silver.” He smiled. “Gold can get a person anything they want.”

“Then you did not tell the truth earlier,” Rikki observed.

“What are you talking about?”

“You told me that you’re not a professional mercenary.” Rikki said, “but you are. You fight for money.”

“Only until I’ve saved enough gold.”

“How much is enough?” Rikki asked.

“Until I’m satisfied,” Boynton said.

“You’ll never be satisfied.”

“You think so?”

“I know so,” Rikki stated. “True satisfaction comes from living a life devoted to spiritual truth, not collecting material wealth. You’ll never be satisfied because you’ll always want more.”

Sergeant Boynton snickered. “Wait until I tell the general you’re a religious fanatic.”

“Are you religious?”

“Me? Hell, no!” Boynton chuckled. “Religion is mumbo jumbo. There’s no God.”

General Thayer stepped from the Command Center and crossed to the jeep. “Let’s go,” he said to the driver as he climbed in. “We’re taking our prisoner to the King.”

“Here’s a laugh for you, sir,” Sergeant Boynton said. “This guy is religious.”

Thayer glanced at the Warrior. “You are? Then you’d better start praying to whatever deity you worship. You’re going to need all the help you can get.”