The next day he found himself walking through an area where the houses were further and further apart. The fences and gates got larger and higher with more gold paint. Some had hi-tech guardhouses attached to them.
He stopped outside one house that sported a particularly garish set of gates complete with a massive golden coat of arms. For some reason the gates looked familiar and then Hogan remembered why. He had seen these gates on the television some three or four weeks before. They belonged to an American movie star and producer who had married an English girl and moved to the United Kingdom.
He had been interviewed in front of his mansion where he gave a speech, full of his trademark humble Southern expressions and down-home attitudes. He told of how he loved the unique smallness of the country, the essential ‘realness’ of the people. Then he had proceeded to purchase a house in the never-never land of footballers, PRO gurus and media moguls. Parents who gave their children monikers like Reignbeau or Jermajesty or Moonunit. People who had sold their souls to the devil to garner their ten minutes of fame. People who had no idea that, in the post pulse dark age that had now come upon them, they had traded all to the father of lies merely to become someone who used to be somebody before the world had gone to crap.
Now it was their time to learn that the devil truly is in the small print.
Hogan started to walk again, when he heard someone calling him.
‘Hey, buddy.’
He turned to see a large, crew cut man in a tight black suit standing the other side of the gate.
‘Can I help you?’ Asked the marine.
The crew cut man smiled. ‘Semper Fi, master sergeant. Private first class, Thomas Kowalski, retired from the corp and living the dream, sir.’
Hogan smiled. ‘Oorah, pfc. Once a marine always a marine. What can I do you for?
‘Could you come inside, sir?’ Asked Kowalski. ‘We spotted you coming down the road and my boss would like to have a chat with you.’
Hogan shrugged. ‘Why not, pfc. Lead the way.’
The pfc took out a bunch of keys, unlocked the gate and opened it just enough for Hogan to squeeze through, closing it behind him.
They walked up the long sweeping driveway towards the house. The drive was covered in white marble chips and bordered by oak trees. Old fashioned lamps and water features also abound but neither worked. The fountains were not natural and the gas lamps were electrical replicas.
‘What puts you in these parts of the woods, master sergeant?’ Asked Kowalski.
Hogan gave the pfc a quick rundown that was full of marine acronyms like ASAP and CQC and OFP.
Kowalski’s story was simpler. He had resigned from the corps after Gulf War One, gone into private security and ended up as bodyguard and head of security for mister Hollywood.
They arrived at the entrance to the house. Hogan could see the tail rotor of a helicopter to the right of the sprawling mansion. In the near distance were horses. Peacocks roamed the gardens braying loudly, like donkeys.
The two marines mounted the sweeping marble steps to the massive front door. Kowalski let them in. The master of the house was standing in the entrance hall and he walked straight up to Hogan, his hand out, multi-million dollar smile lighting up his face. It was a strange feeling for the master sergeant. He had seen the man’s image so many times, it felt as if he knew him. The man shook his hand warmly and then put his arm around him, leading him from the entrance through to a sitting room.
‘Welcome,’ he said to Hogan. ‘We saw you coming down the road and I told Kowalski to extend my invitation to you. Us Americans must stick together.’
‘Thanks,’ said Hogan. ‘How did you know that I was American?’
‘Kowalski knew. The uniform. The weapons.’ He went to a sideboard and gestured to an array of bottles. ‘A drink? No ice I’m afraid but I have twenty year old scotch, Russian vodka, French cognac.’ He poured himself a whisky. And walked to the window.
Hogan shook his head. The man was starting to irritate him a little. He talked without pause, never waiting for an answer or even expecting one.
‘Right, gunny…’
Kowalski visibly flinched.
‘Sorry, sir,’ interjected Hogan. ‘Were you ever in the Marine Corps?’
‘No. But I did play a marine once. Sergeant Major Tellman. DSC. Got an Oscar for that one. Best supporting. Man I was good.’
‘Regardless, sir,’ continued Hogan. ‘You were never an actual marine, only a pretend one. And pretend marines don’t get to call me gunny. No way. You, sir, may call me Hogan or Nathaniel or Sergeant or even Marine. Just not, gunny. Ever.’
The actor nodded, unaffected. ‘Fair enough, Nathaniel. Now, I’m not sure why you’re in the area but I do know one thing. This is your lucky day. Nathaniel, none of us are sure what has happened out there,’ he swept his hand across the landscape as he talked. ‘We may never know. But one thing…’
‘Sir,’ interjected Hogan. ‘We have a pretty good idea what has happened. There has been some sort of electromagnetic pulse, either man made or natural, we aren’t one hundred percent sure, but it has knocked out all of our electronic and electrical capabilities. Over the last few days complete anarchy has taken over. People are dying in their hundreds of thousands and I see no immediate end to this. To all intents and purpose we have been reduced to the dark ages and things will get worse.’
‘Well, rather a bleak outlook, Nathaniel,’ said mister Hollywood. ‘Nevertheless it brings me to my point. I would like you to stay here, with my family, until things get sorted out. I believe that the more Americans and the more weaponry that we have here the safer we will be. We have enough food to last a substantial time. Maybe as long as ten days. By then the government, US or other, will have sorted this mess and I can promise you, you will be substantially rewarded. Not only in monetary terms but also socially. You will become part of my inner circle. Hollywood premiers. A certain degree of fame. Maybe even get the odd role in the movies. All the good things, Nathaniel. So, can I show you your room?’ He smiled at Hogan once again. A full one thousand megawatt Hollywood blinder.
Hogan shook his head, more to himself than anyone in the room.
He held his hand out to Kowalski. ‘It’s been a pleasure, marine.’
Kowalski shook it. ‘Oorah, gunny.’
Hogan turned to Hollywood. ‘Sir, for once in your life listen up and listen good. It’s all over. Your ten days food, you better ration it to last at least a month. Now, use Kowalski here, the American taxpayer has paid almost one million dollars to train him to this point, so utilize his expertise. Send out some recons in force, fact-finding and food acquirement. Set up watches. Be aware. But, this is the most important thing; you have to accept that there will be no miraculous governmental intervention. No cavalry, no column of hummers with MRE’s and Coke and gum to chew. This is it, Hollywood man. Lights out, curtain down. It’s reality time.’
There was a long pause while the actor stared at Hogan. And then he clapped. ‘Brilliant. Man that was intense. “It’s reality time”. Man,’ he continued. ‘You have got it. You know, Nathaniel, you could play yourself when they do the movie about this. Perfect man, perfect.’
Hogan snorted in disgust, turned on his heel and walked to the entrance. Behind him he could hear the actor running through his speech. ‘It’s reality time. Lights out, curtain down…it’s goddamn reality time.’
Kowalski walked with Hogan.
‘Look, sergeant,’ he said. ‘Sorry about that. These actor dudes don’t deal well with reality.’
Hogan shook his head. ‘What the hell? Is he simple or something?’
‘Nah,’ said Kowalski. ‘He’s famous. Comes down to the same thing. Guy earned millions and got world recognition for doing sod all, where’s you and I spent the last ten years of our lives getting shot at for minimum wage. Still, he hired me and where he goes, I go.’
‘Semper Fidelis,’ said Hogan, repeating the Marine Corp logo in Latin. ‘Always Loyal,’ he
translated.
‘To a fault, gunny,’ said Kowalski. ‘To a bloody fault.’
Her unlocked the gate and Hogan walked through. He didn’t look back and Kowalski said no more.
Chapter 7