Free Redemption by Richard Stephenson

Hal?”
    “Of course I’m counting Hal.  He’s at the top of the list.  Theo’s the most recent addition.”
    “All this time I thought when he destroyed Hal that son of a bitch died along with him.”
    Max paused and contemplated if it was time for the whole truth.  He figured the bombshell he just dropped would take time to process.  He would tell her everything soon enough.  However, as always, his wife could read him like a book.  “Max?  What is it, sweetheart?”
    Max looked into his wife’s beautiful blue eyes and smiled.  “Now is not the time, my dear.  We need to say goodbye to our friend.  This day is about him, not Richard Dupree.”
    Elizabeth Harris felt a renewed sense of trust in her husband and kissed his cheek.
     
    ***
     
    After the funeral Elizabeth returned home to prepare dinner.  Max still had a job to do.  The day-to-day operations of a secured compound never ceased, not even for a funeral.  The command center was operated out of two shipping containers laid side by side with doors cut into the walls to connect the two structures.  Solar panels lined the top of the command center.  Secured to the side of the command center stood a hundred foot antenna for a shortwave radio.
    These days Max could find very few things he took pride in and the command center was at the top of the list.   Having spent decades in chronic pain from a spinal column that would give a chiropractor nightmares, Max could not venture far from the compound.  His command center was among three of the most advanced communication centers west of the Mississippi so Max had little need to travel.  Five command centers were operating east of the Mississippi.  The only thing the eight command centers had in common was that they possessed powerful shortwave radio transmitters that could broadcast across the continent.  Anyone with the proper resources could join the club.
    Every command center adopted their call sign from the nearest city that showed up on the most rudimentary maps of the former United States.  The command center in front of Max was actually on the shores of Jackson Lake but derived its name from the city of Denver, some sixty miles to the southwest.
    Max entered the command center and retrieved the paperwork from his tray and pretended to read them while he scanned the faces of his staff for signs of anger or resentment.  Since most of his waking hours were spent navigating various stages of inebriation he never knew from day to day which people he had offended or humiliated.  No one seemed to be seething in anger so Max felt safe for the time being.  Max asked the room.  “Anything to report?”
    “Things are shaking up in St. Louis,” said one of the two men sitting at the comm desk.
    Max was intrigued.  St. Louis had been stable for years.  “Really?”
    “Repeated broadcasts claim that Willie McCallon is dead.”
    “Son of a bitch.  What the hell happened?”
    “Someone killed him and his lieutenants.  At least that’s what the broadcast is saying.  Might be bullshit.”
    “How long have they been broadcasting this?”
    “Little over twelve hours.”
    “Twelve hours is a long time to broadcast bullshit.  Who’s claiming power now?”
    “You would think one of McCallon’s rivals would be loud and proud.  Whoever’s running St. Louis now hasn’t announced a coming out party.”
    “Keep me posted.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “What else?”
    “Knoxville has a report for you.”
    Max shuffled through the papers in his hands.  “I don’t see it.”
    “He wants to speak to you directly.  He contacted us during the funeral.  Offered his condolences and said he’d be available for the rest of the day.”
    “Far be it from me to ignore the likes of Benjamin Black.  Let’s get him on the horn.”
    “You got it.”  The technician flipped some switches and tweaked the dial to Knoxville’s frequency.  “Knoxville station, Knoxville station, this is Denver.  Come