《Humanity's End》Chapter 3: The Call of Duty
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Post 1
5 months after system integration
7 months until the pillars open
The snow fell, but John didn’t feel the cold on his skin as he read the name of the sender on the letter in his hands.
“John? Are you okay?” His wife asked him, as he stood like a moron in the falling snow, in sandals, in the middle of northern Idaho. “John? What is that letter?” Mary asked from the porch. She was at least smart enough to stand under the roof and not get herself snowed on while wearing nothing but her bathrobe. Something John was doing because he wanted to avoid opening the letter and sharing the news that he was sure it contained.
John sighed, and ripped the seal tossing the twelve other letters, all of them junk mail, into the snow. Over the winter only the plastic would survive, and he’d throw that away. Once the snow melted. In three months. When he was probably going to be gone.
He hesitated. He didn’t want to read the letter without her. That would be, that would be too hard. He followed Mary inside; she made them both a hot cup of hot chocolate, something he had grown used to after he had left the army. “I honestly don’t know how they found me Mary, I thought I hid us pretty well.” She smiled sadly and sat next to him on the loveseat.
“John, you know the army. They could have tracked you down if you really needed too in your day, and that was before they had these satellites and computer algorithms and GPS in our phones.” She kissed him on the cheek and motioned for him to read. Sighing, he read the letter out loud, for both their sakes.
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From: United States Army; Desk of General Greaves United Fort Command
To: John McIntire, US Army General, Retired.
Concerning: Voluntary Recall to Active Duty
General McIntire, the United States Army is extremely grateful for your past service, and I am grateful for the help you gave me early in my career. During this time of extreme transition I have resisted the need to force into reactivation those who have been outside the reserves for over four years. I intend to keep that promise as much as is feasible.
Over the last three administrations the skill set of our upper echelon of officers has shifted from war-fighting and tactics to a more administrative and support function. While our current general staff are excellent at being able to manage, equip, stock, and rearm our forces in a timely manner in an efficient cost effective way, they sadly lack the tenacious fighting spirit that was the hallmark of your generation.
The letter continued on the back, this time in familiar handwritten scrawl rather than typed.
I’ve found some commanders among the younger general staff actually willing to fight. But so far at least half of those are from voluntary reactivations. Three of the four forces that will monitor and guard against extraterrestrial incursions through the connection pillars have leadership. But for the life of me, John, I can’t find someone worth a damn to fill the fourth slot.
I know you have that bad hip, and you had foot surgery recently. Mary keeps Tabitha up to date on what’s going on with you, so you can thank her for breaking op-sec for your little hidey hole there in northern Idaho. Though if she didn’t I could have probably just had one of the geeks that work for me find you through your phone or something. So don’t feel bad, or give Mary a hard time.
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John glared at his wife, who smiled and just shrugged. “Traitor.” She smiled and kissed him again, snuggling close into his arm. He wrapped her in a hug, pulling her closer as he continued to read.
I could really use your help, John. This isn’t America asking, this isn’t the president calling and pulling on old strings of patriotism. This is me, one of your first graduate students from Westpoint. Your friend. I need your help. Call me damn it.
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