Music City Macabre: The Low Lying Lands Saga: Vol. 1 by Bob Williams Page B
Authors: Bob Williams
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Chicago?”
“Normal. I was with…”
“Jay Rives. We know. The Network says Jay is an up and comer. You’d do all right to turn around with your dog here and go back. You’re only going to get yourself killed here, pulling this John Wayne shit.”
“Well, let me worry about that,” I said.
“We can’t afford to,” said the woman.
“Who the hell are you, mystery lady?”
“My name is Shields. Laura Shields. I know, right? Just call me Shields. Follow us Mr. Prescott. We have a lot to talk about.”
I followed in the Comanche as we turned left out of the mall onto Hillsboro Road. About fifteen minutes later, we pulled up in front a giant Greek replica called the Parthenon. I walked with them down a set of stairs to the interior of the structure. There was an old gift shop that had been transformed into a sort of receiving area, a la Normal, but on a smaller scale. I went into a room, answered a few routine questions, then stepped out into the company of a very large man. He extended his hand. “Wycheck. Glad to meet you, Prescott. The Network says you’re a stud. The Network never lies.”
“Wycheck? Really? I remember the Music City M…”
“None of that shit matters anymore, man. Follow me. Cole and Shields are waiting for you.”
“Cole and Shields huh? Sounds like a law firm for assholes”
“Uh-huh...around the corner, first door on the right. I’ll be outside in case you end up being the asshole.”
“Fair enough, Mr. Wycheck. It wasn’t a forward pass. We both know it.”
I opened the door and stepped into the room and Cole and Shields both stood. There’s some respect. Remind me to thank The Network. The room was like a mini command post, I suppose. Similar to Ops but about seventy-five percent smaller. They looked to be doing more data mining than anything else. There were a few cameras, but this place was susceptible to a hit.
“Welcome to Outpost Delta, Prescott. The Nashville Safe Zone, as well as Outposts Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie are lost. The Freaks know this place is here and its days are numbered. When we heard you come over our waves we were, quite frankly, shocked. And, who the hell were you talking to anyway?
“What do you mean? You didn’t hear it? The chatter?
“What are you talking about?” asked Cole
“It was bits and pieces. Something about soldiers… and cabins. Or something. It was very fragmented.”
Shields spoke first. “I have no idea what you’re going on about Prescott, but you’re here now. So let’s cut to the chase. The Network thinks you’re making a huge mistake. You’re good, but you’re out of your league when it comes to Kade. He’s a wrecking ball of mass destruction and chaos.”
Chaos.
“Nashville is lost. As soon as this outpost falls, which is any day now, we are falling back all the way to Murfreesboro,” said Cole. “Get out your big black sharpie and add another fat “X” over another lost territory.”
“Ok, you know what? Let’s start over. My name is Prescott. Nice to meet you Cole and Shields. You have been extremely welcoming so far, but I don’t really know anything about you. It seems to me that we’re going to be working together because I’m going to kill Kade, and I’d like to know who I’m going into battle with. So why don’t we find some food and have a get-to-know-you meeting?”
There was a small area designated the dining hall, but that was more of an inside joke to the very small squad of men and women that operated Outpost Delta. Cole, Shields, and I went into the room and were served water and a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. This was literally one very small step up from ravioli.
We sat down and I opened up the discussion. “Michael, what…”
“Cole. Just call me Cole from here on out.”
“OK, Cole. What’s your story?” As a Marine I was curious what his specialty was, since he mentioned the Army.
“You paint with a broad stroke, Prescott. And what’s up with
“Normal. I was with…”
“Jay Rives. We know. The Network says Jay is an up and comer. You’d do all right to turn around with your dog here and go back. You’re only going to get yourself killed here, pulling this John Wayne shit.”
“Well, let me worry about that,” I said.
“We can’t afford to,” said the woman.
“Who the hell are you, mystery lady?”
“My name is Shields. Laura Shields. I know, right? Just call me Shields. Follow us Mr. Prescott. We have a lot to talk about.”
I followed in the Comanche as we turned left out of the mall onto Hillsboro Road. About fifteen minutes later, we pulled up in front a giant Greek replica called the Parthenon. I walked with them down a set of stairs to the interior of the structure. There was an old gift shop that had been transformed into a sort of receiving area, a la Normal, but on a smaller scale. I went into a room, answered a few routine questions, then stepped out into the company of a very large man. He extended his hand. “Wycheck. Glad to meet you, Prescott. The Network says you’re a stud. The Network never lies.”
“Wycheck? Really? I remember the Music City M…”
“None of that shit matters anymore, man. Follow me. Cole and Shields are waiting for you.”
“Cole and Shields huh? Sounds like a law firm for assholes”
“Uh-huh...around the corner, first door on the right. I’ll be outside in case you end up being the asshole.”
“Fair enough, Mr. Wycheck. It wasn’t a forward pass. We both know it.”
I opened the door and stepped into the room and Cole and Shields both stood. There’s some respect. Remind me to thank The Network. The room was like a mini command post, I suppose. Similar to Ops but about seventy-five percent smaller. They looked to be doing more data mining than anything else. There were a few cameras, but this place was susceptible to a hit.
“Welcome to Outpost Delta, Prescott. The Nashville Safe Zone, as well as Outposts Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie are lost. The Freaks know this place is here and its days are numbered. When we heard you come over our waves we were, quite frankly, shocked. And, who the hell were you talking to anyway?
“What do you mean? You didn’t hear it? The chatter?
“What are you talking about?” asked Cole
“It was bits and pieces. Something about soldiers… and cabins. Or something. It was very fragmented.”
Shields spoke first. “I have no idea what you’re going on about Prescott, but you’re here now. So let’s cut to the chase. The Network thinks you’re making a huge mistake. You’re good, but you’re out of your league when it comes to Kade. He’s a wrecking ball of mass destruction and chaos.”
Chaos.
“Nashville is lost. As soon as this outpost falls, which is any day now, we are falling back all the way to Murfreesboro,” said Cole. “Get out your big black sharpie and add another fat “X” over another lost territory.”
“Ok, you know what? Let’s start over. My name is Prescott. Nice to meet you Cole and Shields. You have been extremely welcoming so far, but I don’t really know anything about you. It seems to me that we’re going to be working together because I’m going to kill Kade, and I’d like to know who I’m going into battle with. So why don’t we find some food and have a get-to-know-you meeting?”
There was a small area designated the dining hall, but that was more of an inside joke to the very small squad of men and women that operated Outpost Delta. Cole, Shields, and I went into the room and were served water and a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. This was literally one very small step up from ravioli.
We sat down and I opened up the discussion. “Michael, what…”
“Cole. Just call me Cole from here on out.”
“OK, Cole. What’s your story?” As a Marine I was curious what his specialty was, since he mentioned the Army.
“You paint with a broad stroke, Prescott. And what’s up with
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