by Matt Ritter
“I did.” Dick smiled. “It was deployed this afternoon.”
Ben looked up at high clouds overhead. “Do you smell that?”
“Smell what?” Dick asked.
“Something’s different. It should be raining now, but it’s not.” Turning to Colonel Adams, Ben said, “I was afraid you weren’t going to find us here.”
“We were delayed in Bolsa Knolls. The rain was devastating there.”
“It might start to improve,” Ben said, still peering skyward. “What will you do with him?” he asked, turning back to the truck.
“He’s about to enjoy some manual labor.”
The sky to the northeast flashed orange and reflected in Colonel Adams’ sunken eyes. Everyone turned as a low rumbling boom trundled over them seconds later.
“That was at the border,” Colonel Adams yelled, looking around at his men, his mouth hanging open in shock.
“There are still children at the border camp,” Ben said, his voice frantic. “We need to get to them as quickly as possible. Have you been in contact with soldiers in the camp?” he asked the colonel.
“No. There aren’t many stationed there, but we’re headed there now.” Turning to his men, he yelled, “Load up,” and waved his hands as the soldiers around him scrambled for the vehicles.
“Where are Mary and the children?” Ben asked over the roar of igniting diesel engines.
“They’re back in the van.” Colonel Adams nodded to the van parked behind the other vehicles. “That soldier’s been instructed to not let anyone in or out until he hears from you.”
Ben stepped close to Colonel Adams. “Thank you.”
“Thank me later. We have to go.” The colonel nodded at Ben. “For the Valley,” he said loudly.
“For the Valley,” Ben repeated.
The colonel jumped into the passenger seat of the running vehicle awaiting him, and the military convoy roared off into the foggy night.
Ben turned to Dick, who was watching the fading red lights of the convoy. “Thank you for all you did today.”
“Do you think it will work?” Dick asked, peering up into the darkness.
“It’s all we’ve got. Either way, I need to get Mary and the children back upvalley as soon as possible.”
“I’ll see you soon, my friend,” Dick said, drawing Ben into a hug and slapping his back. He lumbered off across the lot toward his vehicle, carrying a gas mask at his side.
Ben approached the young man guarding the van. “Thank you, soldier,” he said.
“Yes, sir. Is there anything else I can do?”
“Is there fuel in the vehicle?” Ben asked.
“There is, sir. I checked it myself.”
“That’ll be all then.”
“Yes, sir. For the Valley, sir,” the boy said, almost as an afterthought as he rushed off.
Ben grabbed the handle and slid the van’s door open. Mary McElroy sat on the inside with the three boys, two of whom were leaned on each other, completely asleep. The oldest boy met Ben’s gaze with scared, dark eyes. Mary smiled when she saw him. Ben couldn’t remember ever being happier to see another person.
Mary lifted her finger to her mouth and whispered to the awake boy, “Be quiet and wait right here. We’ll be right back. Everything is fine.”
She stepped out, and Ben gently slid the door closed behind her. He followed her as she walked away from the van. Mary turned and raised her eyes to Ben. He wanted to embrace her but hesitated. A smile came across her face, and she lifted her arms to him, pulling him close.
“Are you okay?” he asked in a whisper.
“Yes. I’m sorry for the way I treated you earlier. I know you were just trying to help us.”
“I’m glad you’re safe.”
“I was so happy to see you come out of the building,” Mary said.
He felt her small frame against him, and she was shaking. Her closeness caused tingling electricity to move through his body. She was much shorter than he remembered, her face more delicate, more beautiful. The strange freshness in the air accentuated Ben’s sense of smell. Above the dissipating diesel exhaust, he breathed in the musty sweetness of Mary’s hair. They held each other for a long time.
“Are the boys alright?” Ben asked her.
“They’re fine,” Mary said, stepping back and looking up at him. “They’re scared and they want to go home.”
“Let’s take them then,” Ben said with a grin.
“Now?” Mary asked, her face lighting up.
“Yes, now. We need to get as far from Salinas City as we can. We can be in Greenfield before morning.”
“What about Helen and Jimmy?” Mary asked.
“They’re still in the border camp. Colonel Adams is headed to them now.”
“And Willie?”
“Hopefully he’s there, or he’s on his way there now.”
“I hope he and Helen are okay. What about Zach?” Mary asked.
“Who?”
“The boy Willie and I were traveling with?”
“I never saw him,” Ben said. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes,” Mary replied with a smile.
Ben watched her look down at the ground, then all around. Her face was illuminated. “Look at that,” she exclaimed.
“What is it?”
“Look at that,” Mary repeated. “It’s everywhere.”
“A moon shadow,” Ben whispered, his mouth open in amazement.
Both looked up into the clearing sky. The clouds had slid apart and exposed a nearly full moon, brighter than anything either of them had seen in the night sky. The orange glow of Salinas City paled in the distance as the luminous moon cast daytime shadows beneath every object. Maybe it was the sight of Mary smiling in the new light or the distinctly different, almost sweet, smell in the air, but Ben was overwhelmed with hope. He felt like the change he had worked for all those years might be finally happening.
“Have you ever seen anything like this?” she asked him, her long neck craned up to the sky.
“Not since I was a child.” Ben met her gaze and grinned. He stared down into her eyes, glistening in the light. She smiled back at him.
“It’s so beautiful,” Mary said as she made a slow, full turn, peering upward.
Although he hadn’t seen that luminous celestial body for most of his adult life, Ben’s attention wasn’t skyward. All he cared to see were the soft shadows on Mary’s face as she turned in the moonlight.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Will felt hands on his face, then nothing but cold wetness. Once again, something poking at his eyes and forehead above his mask. He groaned involuntarily. He had a vision of himself perched above the edge of the longvalley highway, and tears were streaming down his cheeks. A truck roared by. Muffled sounds were everywhere, then he was consumed with the sharp feeling of fear with no known reasons behind it. The world swirled and roared around him.
“Hey, wake up.” Zach had thrown the wet burlap off him and rolled him over onto the covered walkway. He was pulling open Will’s eyelids, slapping his face gently in desperation.
Will squinted, trying to return his stinging eyes to the shut position.
“Hey,” Zach whispered loudly. “Breathe.” He pushed the mask tightly onto Will’s face.
Will’s lungs drew in a long breath. He blinked rapidly.
“You’re dry. You made it. You’re alive,” Zach said.
Made what? Will thought. He stared at Zach, then in a rush of thoughts and memories, everything came back. Helen! Will lifted a hand to Zach, who pulled him onto his feet. He felt lightheaded, and his legs were still weak. He leaned on Zach as they moved along the covered walkway toward the mess hall.
“Let’s stop here,” Will said, his voice only a low groan.
He bent over and breathed deep. His hands were on his thighs, and he waited for the nausea and dizziness to pass. The rain quickened, and water came off both sides of the walkway’s roof in steady streams. Wind-blown drips form
ed small domes on the dry wood at Will’s feet and were quickly absorbed.
Will pounded his thighs with his fists and fought off the sickness, willfully deciding to push forward no matter how bad he felt. He stood tall and surveyed their situation. They were a short distance from the covered porch at the back door of the mess hall. No soldiers were outside. He felt the cold rage of a dispassionate killer, a feeling he learned to cultivate inside himself during those many nights in this same camp years earlier.
Will yanked the handgun from the back of his belt and made a sign for Zach to come close. Through the mask, he said, “Circle the building again and let me know what you can see inside. Meet me there by that back entrance.”
Zach stepped off the walkway into the mud and rain, disappearing into the wet darkness. Will proceeded carefully along the last part of the walkway to the covered porch at the back of the mess hall. He stood in the shadows with his back pressed against a walkway post. He hadn’t waited a minute when Zach appeared again.
“What did you find?” Will asked.
Zach shook his head. “I couldn’t see anyone inside.”
“Where is everyone?” Will wondered out loud. “I’m going inside. You stay here and watch the door.”
“Careful,” Zach said.
The handle was cold to the touch as he turned it and cautiously pulled the door open. The mess hall was poorly lit by yellow light bulbs, half of them blown out, strung along the walls. The floor was covered with wide pine boards that creaked under his feet, and even though his mask he could tell the room had the same smell it had always had, the sour scent of rotten linseed oil repeatedly used to treat the wood.
Long tables with benches on each side lined the room in two rows with an open walkway between them. Will stepped inside, and the door squeaked closed. He nervously scanned the room while creeping toward the front area that led to the officers’ quarters. He’d gotten halfway across the room when he sensed something behind him.
“That’s far enough.”
Will froze in his tracks as he heard the click of a gun.
“Don’t turn around. You so much as bat an eye and I’ll blow you right into hell. You’re gonna drop that gun real slow like.”
Even though his voice sounded less human, almost mechanical, behind a mask, Will recognized it as Millard Fillmore’s. He bent forward and set his gun down with a thud on the floorboards in front of him. With his hands out wide, Will slowly turned to face Millard. He looked haggard. His pant leg was torn open, and his hair was matted with dried blood. His long coat was partly burnt along the bottom, and his eyes above his mask cast a hateful and irritated look.
“Where is she?” Will asked.
“Willie, Willie, Willie,” Millard said slowly, shaking his head back and forth. “You are a survivor. I’ll give you that. You’re making me regret not killing you when I had the chance.”
“Where’s my daughter, Millie?”
“That mutant daughter of yours has a job to do for this Valley, and so do I. I’m gonna ensure you don’t get in her way. You and I are headed back upvalley.”
Will took a step in Millard’s direction. “Whoa,” Millard said, raising his gun from Will’s chest to his head. “Don’t try it.”
“Where is she?” Will’s jaw was clenched so tight, his mask no longer suctioned onto his face. He tried to stay calm, but he was frantic, his mind racing through dismal options.
“You don’t want to get in the way of your daughter’s mission. It’s for the Valley, Willie,” Millard spoke in a mocking tone. “You and I are a couple of patriots. We gave everything for this Valley.”
Millard was silent, and the two men stared at each other behind their masks.
“For the Valley, Willie. For the Valley,” Millard said, and his eyes squinted above his mask.
Will heard a quick yelp from behind the open doors at the front of the hall. It was just a split second of sound, barely a peep, but he recognized it instantly. He turned away from Millard to the front of the hall.
“You move, I’ll shoot you in the back. You don’t want to die in front of your daughter, do you, Willie?”
Helen stepped from behind the open doors at the front of the room with Captain Wilson holding onto her shoulder. In his other hand, the captain was holding a dark blue backpack.
When Will saw his daughter, he held his breath. It’d been several weeks since he’d seen her. Her face seemed thin and hard, and he didn’t recognize the clothes she was wearing. From across the dimly lit room he locked on to her wide eyes, scared and bloodshot. He pulled his mask onto his forehead, and a wave of recognition came across her face. She brought her hand to her mouth and looked like she would cry. A lump instantly formed in Will’s throat, thinking of the horrors she’d witnessed, and tears pricked his eyes.
“It's okay, it's okay,” he said with his hand out to her. “You’re alright.”
She tried to run to him, but Captain Wilson held firmly onto her shoulder. She let out another involuntary yelp.
“Take your hands off her,” Will commanded.
The captain didn’t move. He stood, gripping Helen’s shoulder, returning Will’s cold stare. Will lowered the gas mask back onto his mouth and watched the captain. He looked at Helen, who mouthed the word, Daddy.
“Hold your weapon on him,” Captain Wilson commanded Millard. “She needs to go across before the rain lets up.”
“With pleasure,” was Millard’s cold response.
Will heard the handcuffs hit the wooden floor behind him. “Third time’s a charm,” Millard said. “Turn around slowly and put ‘em on.”
Will turned to face Millard, his muscles clenched in rage. He knew he would die this time before putting those handcuffs on, but not in front of Helen. As he kneeled to pick up the cuffs, the back door of the mess hall burst open with a bang. It was Zach, a streak of blond hair, soaked to the bone, his red eyes wide and crazy. He went straight for Millard, who swung around and fired at him. As Zach went flying off to one side, Will lunged at Millard and tackled him from behind before he could turn.
Will felt his whole body pulse with adrenaline. A strength he didn’t know he had surged through him as he landed on top of Millard. Weeks of rage and frustration pumped through his powerful muscles. His mask was pulled to the side, and he could smell the leather of Millard’s coat collar through the stinging air. He pushed down hard on the back of Millard’s head, compressing it into the floorboards. He struggled for the gun clutched in Millard’s outstretched hand while wrapping an arm around his neck. Millard grunted and bucked his whole body.
Will bore down hard on him, squeezing tighter and tighter on his neck. He let out a growl and twisted Millard’s head back with all his strength. He heard a muted, yet distinctive click somewhere deep inside Millard’s neck. Millard’s whole body shuddered, then went limp. Will roared again and slammed Millard’s limp head twice in quick succession against the wood floor. Blood burst onto the floorboards where Millard’s forehead had caved in.
Will laid on top of him, his gas mask pulled to one side, gulping in air. The subtle rusty smell of Millard’s blood met his nose and warred with the rotten linseed oil and sulfur in the air.
Will rolled to one side, rose quickly to his feet, adjusted his mask, and looked to the front of the mess hall. Helen and the captain were gone. He turned to Zach, who was on his back a short distance away. Will went to him and kneeled beside him. Zach’s eyes were wide open but focused far away on something beyond the ceiling in the hard, rainy sky. Magenta blood soaked through the front of his wet shirt and grew in an oblong patch.
“Zach,” Will said, reaching down to his shoulder.
“Will.” Zach tried to reach up to him but couldn’t. “What happened?”
“You’ll be fine. Just hold on.”
“Did I get him?”
“You did.”
A halfhearted smile came across Zach’s face. “Did you get your daughter?”
“Not yet.”
<
br /> “Go get her then,” Zach said. Will put his hand gently on the wound on the side of Zach’s chest. It was warm and wet. Zach winced.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, and Will heard a gurgling sound to his voice. “Go on now, get your daughter.”
Will lifted Zach’s hands and placed them on the wound. “Hold your hands here, and I’ll be right back.” Zach flinched at the weight of his own hands.
Will looked down into Zach’s bloodshot eyes. He was so young. Fear and bewilderment flashed across his face. “You’re coming back for me, right?” Zach asked, with a slight cough that exposed blood on his lips.
“Of course. I’m not going anywhere without you. Hang on right here. I want you to meet Helen.”
Zach’s lips curled into a smile and glistened with brown blood in the yellow light. Will stood, bent to pick up his gun, then looked back at Millard’s motionless body, his head face-down in the middle of a widening pool of blood. He wiped Zach’s blood from his hand onto his pants, then adjusted his mask.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
The clamor of rain on the building’s roof got louder as the clouds spewed their putrid thirst. Will went to the front of the mess hall. Raising his gun, he peeked cautiously around the door. The entrance area was empty, with a hallway leading to the officers’ quarters on one side. Through a window, Will saw the back of Captain Wilson’s head on the front porch. He ducked down, snuck to the front, opened the door quietly, and stood frozen in the threshold with his gun trained on the captain. Captain Wilson didn’t move. He was focused on something beyond the porch, in the darkness and rain.
Will let the door close behind him. When he heard the click, Captain Wilson turned to face Will.
“Easy now,” he said, lifting his arms away from his sides. “See this thing in my hand? It’s a detonator. You shoot me, we all die.”
Will looked past the captain. Helen stood in the rain with the heavy backpack over her shoulders.