SEVEN DAYS

by James Ryke

  They spent the rest of the day securing the city. It was not until late afternoon before Rick and his group returned to the church, their bodies weakened by exertion and covered in sweat. Upon their return, several members of the Congregation spontaneously cheered with so much conviction that even the most miserable individuals were inspired to smile. Despite Rick declaring the city safe, he insisted that everyone travel in groups and that at least two armed individuals were with each group. He also ordered Delta Company to stay in the bell tower until everyone had returned that night.

  People poured out of the church, their hearts set on returning to their homes and grabbing additional comforts. Rick too, returned to the city, this time carrying a backpack. Before he could walk very far, Jane had stopped him, her bushy brown hair seemingly wilder in the open air.

  “Uncle Rick,” Jane asked, “I want to come with you.”

  Rick sighed and turned around, the corner of his mouth slightly turned down. “You might see some things down there—”

  She nodded. “I’ve seen dead bodies before—I used to volunteer at the hospital and occasionally had to wheel out the deceased to a different location.”

  Rick’s frown deepened, “Did you ask your mother?”

  “About working at the hospital or about coming with you? I guess it doesn’t matter, both answers are no. But let me come with you. You said yourself that people shouldn’t travel alone.”

  “Yeah,” Rick nodded, “that’s true. But—”

  Jane smiled shyly as she approached. “Maybe even you could use help sometimes. Did I have the Mayor pegged or not?”

  “Yes, you certainly did.”

  “Well, then,” Jane said with a shy smile, “maybe you should be asking me to come with you—instead of the other way around.”

  Rick laughed. “All right, but you gotta keep up.”

  Jane smiled slightly and nodded. “I think you and I want to figure out the same thing, but we’re doing it for different reasons.”

  “Oh,” Rick replied, “and what’s that?”

  “You want to figure out what makes the Mayor tick, right?”

  Rick did not answer right away. Instead, he mulled the words around in his head and gauged his response. “I didn’t think of it that way but, yes, you’re right.”

  They walked on in silence, each one appreciating the stillness of the day. They made good time through the city and reached city hall sooner than Rick had expected. Despite having already cleared out the large building earlier that day, Rick shouldered his M4, his thumb resting on the safety in case he needed to flip it to the fire position at a moment’s notice. The large man went first, ducking through a broken glass door. He scanned left and right before signaling his niece to follow.

  Jane wanted to ask her Uncle why he was always so cautious, but she did not want to break the silence and ruin his concentration. Eventually, she was glad she did not ask because the more the question replayed in her mind, the more stupid it seemed to be. The answer is all around me—in the destruction of the city. Of course, he’s being cautious.

  Rick led the way down the marble steps and into the basement below. About halfway down, they were forced to flip on their flashlights as the darkness swallowed their bodies. The sub-levels looked as if they had suffered an animal stampede. Of all the furniture, only one chair stood upright despite a missing leg. Rick told Jane to stay by the steps while he cleared the area. She flipped her light off and breathed deep, waiting for what seemed to be hours before he returned.

  “It’s clear,” Rick announced. “You’re sure quiet today. I thought you would at least have a dozen questions. It’s safe to talk now.”

  “I’m always quiet unless I have something to say,” Jane replied. “And even then, I usually don’t say what’s on my mind. Jacob is the one that talks before he thinks—he won’t even shut up when he’s sleeping.”

  Rick laughed, amused by how articulate she could be when she wanted to. “And this is the first time I’ve seen you without a book in your hands.”

  Now it was Jane’s turn to laugh, her eyes focusing on something too distant to see. She began to move through the office as she talked. “It seems like everyone is asking me the same question. Well, the books I read are usually historical works. They talk about the struggles of the famous figures of history and their pain, as if it was the greatest challenge in the world. And now it seems all fake, like watching a cheesy magician pull a rubber rabbit from a hat. The reality of my life now is much more powerful than anything I’ve read. People are dead—millions of people are probably dying. What just happened surpassed the atrocities of everything in the past. The world can’t come back from what has happened. And I’m in the middle of it. Jacob would have been dead if you did not save his life, and he’s someone I really care about. I would’ve been dead if you had not shown up, most likely blown up by the bombs that were placed in the parks. It’s not that I don’t relate to those books, because I still do, but it’s like I feel the books don’t relate to me. This hellish world is the new baseline for literature, and any book that’s written in the future will use this era as the standard. That changes everything. It’s like a book about the cold war that’s written twenty years after it ended. The atrocities of the past have paled in comparison to the things that are happening now.”

  Rick picked up a sheet of paper from the floor. “I thought books were just something to read when you got bored.” He dropped the paperback to the floor and continued on.

  Jane laughed. “You sound like Kate—she oversimplifies everything.”

  Rick involuntarily tightened his hand on his rifle.

  “Did you know her gasifier is working?” Jane said. “It’s been running for the last week.”

  “I noticed the showers were warm, and the food was hot. So, yeah, I guess I figured that it was working.”

  “She was so determined to show you up that she never stopped working on it until it was done. I helped her. And, just like you, she was oversimplifying the situation.”

  “So, you’re the one I need to thank for getting the gasifier working.”

  “No, she is. We bounced ideas off each other, but she was the one that put it together. And you better tell her that you’re grateful.”

  “Why the hell would I want to do that?”

  “Because you now have a hot shower every once in a while and warm food. Because she worked her butt off so that people could be a little more comfortable. She thinks you don’t like her.”

  “I don’t,” Rick said.

  “Whether you mean to or not, Uncle Rick, people are scared of you—you even scare the heck out of me sometimes. And if your objective is to alienate everyone in your family and never make any friends, then you’re an overachiever.”

  Rick sighed and straightened up. “I didn’t think I would be getting a lecture when I agreed to take you along. Maybe if you would have disclosed that earlier I would have changed my mind.” His tone was severe, but his eyes in the faint light said he was joking.

  Jane smiled, “You’re a good man, Uncle Rick, and that’s why I’m telling you this. I understand why you set the tone so harsh—history is full of horrific events, and this is no different. People need to saddle up if they’re going to survive—but I think you’re fooling yourself when you think you’ll be better off for ignoring Kate’s accomplishments—or anyone else’s for that matter.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “Be who you need to be—that’s what has helped us to survive so far, but also don’t forget who you are. You’re an uncle and a brother, a husband and a father, a neighbor, and a friend. Humanity doesn’t end when there are no humans; it ends when humans are inhumane. I’m convinced that the current situation doesn’t necessarily have to dictate how people treat each other.”

  Rick crouched down on the floor, his mind lost in thought. A sinking feeling trickled down his back and rested in his gut. He let out a long, dee
p sigh. Isaac’s questions flashed through his mind. Why are you doing this? The question seemed benign at the time, but now it made more sense. Why am I doing this? What do I have to live for? Before all this happened, I drank every night hoping that I wouldn’t wake up the next morning. So what am I hanging on to? Is life supposed to get better after the world has turned to hell? What am I hoping for? Rick’s thoughts became so deep that he did not hear Jane when she first called out to him.

  “I found something,” she repeated.

  Rick looked up. “What?”

  “It’s a table of some kind. I think it’s important.”

  Rick approached Jane and she handed him the paper.

  On the far left side of the page was a column that contained several names of cities in the area. To the right of this column were several other columns with various labels: city population; expected casualties; expected resources; needed casualties; needed resources; expected recruits; needed recruits. The numbers in each box seem to reflect the size and population of the city proportionally.

  “Why does it say ‘needed casualties’?” asked Jane.

  “This is exactly what I was looking for,” Rick whispered. “This tells us the Mayor’s plan. A hit-list of the places he’s planning on raiding. I’m sure he’s going to attack them in this order. I’ll wager he’s hoping to accumulate enough supplies to feed his army through the winter.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question: Why does it say ‘needed casualties’? Why would he need some of his men to die, but then be hoping to have additional recruits? Under ‘expected casualties,’ he has proportionally fewer men than under ‘needed casualties.’ That seems illogical.”

  Rick thought for a moment. She’s right. Why would he want more of his men killed than what he is projecting to die? He thought back to everything he knew about the Mayor, thought back to how the Mayor had governed the city since this crisis began, but nothing seemed to make any sense. Why would he want some of his own men dead?

  Jane broke the silence. “Remember the ‘accused terrorists’ that had been publicly executed; well, they were all people on the city council or in public positions. They must have been the people that stood up to him.

  “What does that have to do with this list?”

  “He’s weeding out the people that don’t truly support him—like some sort of sick evolutionary experiment. The people he doesn’t trust will be the first sent into battle, and only if they’re willing to kill in the name of the Mayor will they be taken into his inner circle. Maybe there are multiple tests that an individual must go through to prove themselves to the Mayor.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “For example: if I have one hundred people and ten of them really think that I’m an amazing leader, forty of them think I’m a decent leader, thirty of them are indifferent, and twenty that want a different leader but they’re riding out the situation because they’re receiving food. Who do I send on the most dangerous missions?”

  “Who?”

  “I send the twenty that want a different leader. Let’s say of those twenty, ten of them die—so you get ten more individuals to join your forces from the city you just raided. If we keep the proportions the same, the ten new individuals will have one person who thinks that I’m amazing, four that think I’m a decent leader, and three that are indifferent.”

  Rick furrowed his brow, “But what does that accomplish?”

  “Without any morale-busting executions or power struggles, the Mayor has just eliminated ten people he did not trust and replaced them with individuals who he could potentially trust more. If you repeat the process several times over, eventually, everyone in your army that’s still alive will revere you like a god. It’s selective social evolution.”

  Rick looked at the list, staring at it until his eyes blurred. “He’s insane.”

  “He’s a genius. This sheet of paper is a math equation. He’s trying to balance the immediate need of soldiers that he has versus their potential loyalty for him. By the time winter rolls around, he’s hoping to have soldiers that are absolutely loyal to him and a stockpile of food. He will be unstoppable at that point, and there will be no force that could possibly challenge him.”

  “Well, then, we better hope he doesn’t come back this way.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Day 30

  Kate studied and restudied the plans set before her. They were only sketches, not blueprints, but she treated them as if they were the most precise documents she had ever seen. They were her new project—the solar panel design they were scheduled to install later that day. She could not fail—that was not an option. She did not want him to think that she did not know what she was doing. The gasifier just about destroyed her, but she could not tell him that. She had spent long days and late nights fabricating and testing the device. The construction of the device was not too complicated, but she would settle for nothing less than perfection. She needed—no demanded—that it was flawless.

  She sighed, letting her shoulders sag. Despite herself, the energy slipped from her body as new thoughts pushed old ones out of her mind. Rick had been right. It’s been over a month, and there hasn’t been a word from the government—or anyone else for that matter. He wasn’t paranoid; he was precise. He had been right about everything. This last thought burned inside of her, like a festering wound. It just about killed her to admit this, even if it was only to herself. And there I was, fighting against him like a spoiled child. But he’s not a saint either. He can be so pigheaded sometimes that it’s a wonder anyone can talk to him for any length of time. She found herself picturing his muscular frame and set jaw. He is handsome—in a rugged sort of way. She let her mind daydream for a few seconds longer. Focus, Kate. You don’t have to be a survivalist to have good ideas, and you can prove it.

  “Where did you go just now?” Jane asked.

  Kate looked up, a forced smile on her face. “What are you talking about? I was just thinking about what we need to do today. We’ve got a lot on our plate.”

  “No,” Jane said, “you had a little more on your mind than that. You were playing with your hair.”

  Kate shook her head. “I was just thinking about someone that drives me insane. Even when what they say is right, and I actually agree with it, I find myself wanting to take the opposite opinion just because I don’t care for the way they presented their idea. Does that make me a bad person?”

  “Who’s this person?”

  Kate looked at Jane for a moment. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “I bet I could guess.”

  “No, you couldn’t. This is someone from years ago.”

  Jane’s smiled widened. “No, it’s not.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Kate said, her voice dropping her friendly tone. “We’ve got a lot to do. Can you get the build crew in here?”

  It did not take long for the fifty people in the build crew to assemble in the main meeting room. Despite their diverse careers, she was surprised at how apt this group had proven itself. She had been given all the talented carpenters and electricians, as was expected, but she was also given several individuals from random fields and occupations. She thought there would be an instant divide between the people who knew what they were doing and those who did not. This proved untrue, and they melded together in a way she did not think possible.

  In truth, it seemed like people wanted to be part of the build crew. In part, Kate thought, it was because Rick hardly bothered them, but it seemed something more than that. The build crew directly made people’s lives better.

  Just days after the Mayor left, Kate had organized them and they began work on a water collection system. Using the existing gutters from the church, they designed and installed a series of pipes that would divert all rainfall to a large water tank that was salvaged from a nearby warehouse. Initially, they planned on placing the water tank on the ground floor, but Kate insisted on keeping it as high as they could
so they would have pressurized water. They spent the entire next day building a tower. After a little deliberation, Kate decided the best place to put the tower would be in the front of the meeting hall, right where the choir seats were positioned.

  When Rick first walked into the building, the tower only half complete, the large man’s anger burned so brightly that Isaac was afraid his brother would singe everything he touched. Rick did not publicly criticize the idea, much to the credit of Isaac’s maneuvering, but it quickly got around that Rick thought it was a waste of time. He thought that collecting the rainfall was a good idea, but that building a tower to hold the water tank was a fool’s chore. The next day brought a downpour of rain and the tank quickly filled. So quickly, in fact, that in the middle of the storm, Kate had to build an overflow valve to prevent the water leaking into the chapel. When she had returned from the task, her clothes clinging to her as if they had been glued to her body, Rick was standing in the entrance, his expression unreadable. She felt utterly vulnerable as she walked past him.

  The next day, however, Kate’s pressurized tank proved its worth. They ran a pipe from the tank to the main water valve in the church. After disconnecting the pipe from city water, they reconnected it to the pressurized tank. It took a few more tweaks and adjustments, but before noon, the sinks, showers, and toilets were working. This announcement was met with a chorus of cheers.

  When the praise for Kate was just about to reach its height, Rick had stepped in, reminding everyone that they did not have a way to pump the septic system and, consequently, they could take showers and urinate in the toilets, but they were not allowed to defecate—that would still have to take place in the privy. This announcement did not completely kill the enthusiasm, but it definitely put it into a lull.