Finally Rupert emerged, pulling his clunky, filth-covered cart, cluttered with the waste-filled buckets. He walked slowly toward the trenches, his nose and mouth wrapped with a bandana. He certainly didn't seem to be in a rush to get there. Who could blame him?
Rupert looked back as the gate closed, maybe finally reconsidering his place in life. The Sentries returned to their post, and one called out to Rupert. He looked up. There appeared to be some sort of an exchange, but Xavier couldn't make it out—Rupert simply waved the Sentry off and continued.
It appeared Rupert would go it alone—no Guard. Xavier hated it, but this may be his only chance. A favor from Rupert might be impossible. Xavier didn't even want to speak with him. The conversation would be excruciating, but he didn't have a choice. With the Sentries back in their posts, Matt would no longer be an option—he stood too closely to the towers. Now or never I guess.
Xavier’s steps paralleled Rupert's as best he could, ducking branches and stepping over brush and twigs, trying his best to remain unnoticed. He maintained what visual he could of Rupert, but it was limited to glimpses of clothing through the thick growth—flashes of white and blue to follow.
His cart slogged through the rain-soaked grass and mud. Rupert strained to keep it moving along, pulling at it, slowly making his way. There wasn't a straight path to the trenches, only a winding progression—mostly forward. The usual cut-through was ruined by the storm, filled by puddles and debris. The rain had truly added an extra layer of misery.
Once there, Rupert stopped the wagon and unloaded his shovels and a rake, shaking his head and mumbling to himself. Xavier moved closer. He settled in to catch his breath. He now had a perfect view of Rupert and could almost hear him. Rupert thrust the head of the shovel into the ground and rested his foot upon its edge. He continued his rant, punctuating the words with gestures of his hands. His face lit up with anger as he spoke. His hateful drivel spewing forth. This conversation was going to be interesting. He was already so worked up.
“Psst,” Xavier projected it as low and straight as he could.
Rupert stopped his muttering and looked around.
“Psst, hey.” A little louder.
Rupert pulled the shovel from the ground and held it across his body like a Bo staff.
“Right here. It’s Xavier.” He crashed through the woods, his hands open out in front of him. “It's me. Don’t hit me.”
“That's not a good enough reason.” Rupert raised the head of the shovel over him as if to strike, and Xavier backed away. “I'm not going to hit you, dumb shit.” He lowered the shovel, and Xavier expelled the breath he was holding. “Why the hell are you watching me?”
“I’m not. I’m— I need a favor.”
“Good luck with that.” Rupert scoffed and spoke over his shoulder as he turned away from Xavier, “You’re not even supposed to be out here, so I don’t know what you’re up to.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“How’d you even get out— You know what… I don’t even want to know.” Rupert readied his shovel for the trenches.
“Me and Grant left yesterday. I figured everyone knew.” Xavier began to worry. He has to know something. “Didn’t Grant come back yesterday?”
“Don't know and don't care.” Rupert began dumping the buckets, spreading it as evenly as he could within the trench. He crammed his shovel into a large pile of dirt and shook it over the waste. Layer by layer, he buried the excrement, sealing the stench of decay as best he could. “Now you really are watching me. What do you want?”
“I need to get back in.”
“Then go.” Rupert continued shoveling. “They’ll let you.”
“These S.A. people don’t know me.”
Rupert worked in silence.
“Come on, look,” Xavier pleaded, “I just need to talk to Sam. Have you seen him?”
“No.”
“It’s important.”
“He can’t talk to you… Not after what they did to him.”
“You saw it?”
“Hell no!” Rupert drooped the bandana from his face and shoved the wooden handle from one palm to the other. “Had I...” A breath. “Things would've been different. Would have popped that guy’s head right off, messing with Sam like that.”
Xavier's mouth sat open, dumbfounded. That’s right. How could he have forgotten that Sam and Rupert were close? It made sense. The two of them notoriously disgruntled—a perfect match.
Rupert continued bad mouthing the Second Alliance, and all Xavier could do was nod in agreement. His ranting leaned the same way. The Second Alliance had bludgeoned his friend, leaving him unresponsive, wasting away somewhere in the school. There’s no way Rupert would settle for that.
“…and those folks don’t know what they got themselves into. People aren’t going to stand for that. No way. I’m not. I just…”
Xavier continued listening to him ramble. Rupert seemed more on board with this than he could have ever imagined. Rupert made it seem as if the whole school was buzzing with revolt—that the Second Alliance was finished in River’s Edge, as if no one could look past what they did to Sam. Xavier had only witnessed people submit after seeing the strike. They were scared. Rightfully so. People had suppressed their true feelings and were now ready. It was really going to happen.
“…crazy that it even happe—.”
“How do I get to Sam?”
“Why do you care so much?” Rupert asked.
“Look.” Xavier sighed. “I just need to talk to him. Are you going to help me or not?”
“Haven’t decided yet, but you’re gonna need me to talk to him anyways.”
“Why’s that?”
“Haverty said that I’m gonna be the first talk to him,” he said, almost bragging. “So wrap yourself around that.”
“You talked to Haverty about Sam? Why?”
“Don’t really trust the bastards,” Rupert said. “It’s that— I needed to know he’s good.”
“But he’s not the only reason you don't trust them.”
Rupert shook his head.
“What then?”
Rupert shoveled some more and ignored Xavier’s prying.
“I’m not leaving until you’re finished.”
“Gonna be awhile.”
Frustrated, Xavier stood watching Rupert’s lethargic pace of shoveling. “I’m not sure what you’re so afraid of. Why can’t you say? We want the same thing. Just say it!”
“Who’s afraid?” Rupert dropped the shovel to the ground and turned toward Xavier. “What is it you think? Huh? What do I want?” Rupert rushed him.
“Hey, hey, hey.” Xavier back-pedaled, stumbling, ultimately falling to the ground. “All I’m trying to say is we want the same— We want the S.A. gone, not just for what they did to Sam, but everything.”
Rupert stood over him, not saying a word.
“The two meals,” Xavier started, “the craziness with supplies. All of that’s driving everyone mad.”
Rupert left Xavier on the ground and turned away. “It doesn’t matter. Most are cowards and would never stand up to them. They’re going to take us over. Just a matter of time.”
“Exactly!” Xavier scrambled to his feet. “That’s why now is the time. I know Sam will help. We just have to find him. People will listen to him. He’s a leader.”
Rupert pulled the bandana back over his nose and shoveled some more, “I hear you. Just not convinced.”
“How's this…?
Nothing.
“Rupert!”
He looked to Xavier.
“We left yesterday for downtown. Me and Grant with an S.A. Guard. We all got into a... Well, someone— someone fired on us and killed our escort. But it turned out that the guy was carrying a letter from Haverty to the leader of the S.A. I grabbed his pack and ran. Found the letter inside. Everything is in it.”
“And?”
“It proves what they did. That they don’t want a partnership. They want f
ull control. Come on! That’s why you should care.”
“What makes you think Sam will help?”
“The reason he got hit is why!” Xavier’s voice continued to rise. “He sees it coming. He knows. Just like you and me. Without a doubt, he'll help. We've all worked so hard on this place and now, just to hand it all over is insane!”
“You've lost your mind. A kid against the world?” Rupert laughed loudly and began pulling the cart to another stretch of the trenches. “You’re an idiot.”
What’s going on in his head?
Xavier had no choice but to wait for Rupert to finish. Even if he couldn’t convince Rupert, at least he’d be able to get in without a confrontation with the Sentries. He didn’t expect much more than that, but some of the conversation gave him hope. Some of that hope lay with Rupert—most of it with Sam.
Within all of Rupert’s anger, the desire for something better existed. Xavier just needed to stoke that fire and not let up. He hated it, but Rupert could prove invaluable. Absolutely, without question, Rupert could make this happen. It's possible that Sam might make that decision, the right decision on his own, but it wasn't guaranteed. With the letter and Rupert, it would be.
Many minutes had passed since Rupert pulled the cart to the other end to begin filling the ditch. His shoveling was slow going, and it annoyed Xavier. At this rate, they would be sleeping out here. How does he get this done every day? Screw it. He took the long march over to Rupert and snatched a shovel from the cart.
Xavier had never noticed it before, but being this close to Rupert made it obvious. It seemed that he was constantly running a narrative. Not necessarily detailing his happenings, but just talking to himself. Xavier couldn’t make out much. A few words here and there made it obvious he was mulling over what Xavier had said—what had been pointed out as fact.
He began assisting Rupert with the trenches. With his first bucketful, the smell of excrement was overwhelming. He slipped the gray t-shirt from his back and tied it around his nose and mouth like Rupert’s bandana, but it didn’t help.
“I can still smell it.”
“I know. It’s to keep it from getting in your mouth and nose.” Rupert went to take Xavier’s shovel. “I got this. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
Xavier stepped away from him. “It’s shoveling I think I can handle it.”
“You just want in?” He motioned toward the front of River’s Edge.
Xavier nodded.
Rupert swiped the shirt down from Xavier’s nose. “Let’s go.” He took the shovel from Xavier and leaned it against the cart, along with his own. “I want to get my stuff done.”
The two of them walked along the perimeter of the fence—Xavier entangled within his t-shirt as he tried to pull it over his head. He tripped a bit over the uneven ground while trying to keep pace with Rupert. They were just beyond the Sentry’s view. Rupert looked back to him. “Just walk behind me, and I’ll get you in.” They turned the corner, and Rupert shouted for the Sentries.
Matt looked over his shoulder. “Xavier?” He rushed over, his arms swallowing Xavier whole. “Hey, man!”
“Easy, easy.” Xavier gasped for air.
“Worried sick man. When Grant came back without you I thought you were a goner. I tried to go out with the search team, but they just laughed.”
“Did they come back with anything?”
“No idea. Not sure they’re even back yet. You’re okay though?”
“Yeah, long story. I’ll catch you up when we get a chance.”
“Right now’s as good as any.”
“Uh…” Xavier caught Rupert glaring at him from over Matt’s shoulder. “Sorry man. I can’t right now. I’ll get with you. Promise.”
“I won't be much longer with this.”
“I have something I got to do.”
Matt looked oddly at Xavier, perhaps trying to see if he was really okay.
“I’m good,” Xavier assured him. “Is Jenny okay?”
“Why wouldn’t she be?”
Good. “Nothing. I’ll get with you later.”
Xavier and Rupert stood in front of the school's entrance. The doors shook and groaned once again, opening for what the Sentries had to have hoped would be the last time for their shift.
“Good luck,” Rupert said.
As Xavier stepped through the gate, he paused, watching Rupert return to the ditches, wondering if it was help that he offered or only luck. Why would he say that? Rupert had taken a stance of neutrality, denouncing the Second Alliance, but not going far enough to do something about it.
He could have. He could’ve walked through the gate with Xavier. He still could decide to help. There was nothing to stop him. If he wanted to do the right thing for Sam, he would. For now though, it would only be the luck that Rupert offered. It was something, and Rupert seemed sincere. The calmness with which he said it put Xavier at ease. It was strangely reassuring. Maybe if Rupert could be inched along toward the right thing, others would follow.
Chapter Nine
Xavier guided his fingers across the cornstalks—the field teeming with the late summer harvest. The women and children busily plucked the bounty while singing. Old grocery baskets overflowed with ears of corn. A woman swatted the hand of a child. “That’s enough in that one.” The child pouted, her lips quivering, but no tears. She ran for another basket, cutting Xavier off, and then disappeared into the thicket. The woman caught his eye and shook her head, snickering to herself. “Kids.” She resumed her singing.
Her song, joined in by the others, filled the air inside the walls. But would it last? The happiness that rose from their melody inflated their spirits. But these folks had no idea what was coming. Most of them had no idea what happened to Sam. They just sang, completely ignorant, blissful in the deception. No idea that the whole thing would be flipped upside down. It was going to be a painful truth.
As the song continued to pour into his ears, he became frustrated. He wanted to shut them up. Shout out the truth—that the Second Alliance attacked them, killed them, were taking over, but he decided against it for now. The pieces weren’t in place yet.
It wasn’t their fault. Xavier hadn’t known either. It was just mild skepticism at first. Only while holding Haverty’s letter in his hands, did he know with any certainty. These people don’t deserve what's about to happen. The Second Alliance had nothing invested in River’s Edge besides terror. No blood. No sweat. Only a simple plan to deceive them into servitude.
They really were quite clever. To make it look like it was the town’s own decision to take their help—the difference between turning down their protection and begging for it, unknowingly sealing the fate of everyone. He couldn't stand to stay and listen to their joy. It ate away at him that he couldn't let them know yet. Xavier pushed his way through the remainder of the field and slammed the door leading into the halls. It was just too much. I have to find Sam.
His heart sank immediately upon setting foot within the school. A set of eyes set directly upon him. It was the one. The one that struck Sam. The monstrous being stood just before him—above him, around him—clearly perturbed by Xavier’s actions.
“Is there a problem?” He could speak.
Xavier couldn’t. Petrified, he simply creaked his head from side to side. Wide-eyed, mouth open. Oh, Shit. He could feel a cold sweat moving below his clothing. The seconds grew into a minute of silence, simply standing there, trying to avoid eye contact. The iron man wouldn’t move—didn’t for whatever reason. Xavier was clearly intimidated, cowering in his presence. What more could he want? Did he know? Xavier didn’t want to believe that Grant floundered in his explanation.
“Watch it.” He gave Xavier a slight push.
A nod was all he could bring forth. Xavier waited momentarily, hoping the Soldier would move first, but he didn’t. Neither wanted to show their intended path. He sidestepped, pressed between the wall and the black uniform, cautiously resuming what he set forth to do.
Xavier could feel him watching every one of his steps until the corner was rounded. This game was getting old. What does he know? A brief moment with his back against the cement blocks, just a moment, and then he doubled back. The Soldier was gone. It was nothing. What is going on? A misunderstanding? He couldn’t risk it. Maybe they did know. Xavier rushed toward his living quarters.
“Hey, watch it!” A pair of sneakers squeaked out of the way.
“Sorry.”
He barreled into the room and knelt down in front of his footlocker. His fingers fumbled through the combination. The dial spun far more than needed. Trembling through the numbers, he started over yet again. Thirteen. There. He pulled, and it disengaged. Finally! He shoved the binoculars into the chest then took an old notebook, riddled with doodles and old song lyrics, from the bottom. A clean sheet. Concise. Deliberate. Clear, but not too clear. What if someone else finds it? It couldn't be spelled out completely. He began to write.
The old way home. Opposite wall of the ladder. Dig!
He folded it twice over and slipped it through the crack between the lid and base of Matt’s footlocker. He breathed a few strong breaths. Better, much better. An insurance policy. If anything was to happen to Xavier, then Matt would have to carry the torch. That note left for him would be the only path to the truth. There would be no other way to know what the Second Alliance had done. There would be no one else to carry on unless Sam was still able and willing, but if Xavier’s defiance led to his own death, then Sam had most likely already met that same fate.
Xavier had to believe that Matt would know what the note meant. It was only slightly cryptic. He wasn't that dense, although he may struggle a bit with it. Jenny could help him, and their curiosity—especially hers—would lead them to the pack. They would find Simon's journal and Haverty's letter. They would find the guns. It would be up to them what to do with it. Xavier only hoped that Matt would do the right thing and Jenny would follow.
But on second thought, Jenny was the more ambitious of the two—the one more willing to raise issue with the problems that would be revealed to them. She had no problem questioning them, and only yesterday, Jenny seemed enamored with the idea of building, starting over from scratch. She held on to every word that Matt used to describe the process of River's Edge. The days, the actions that it took to create a stable society. Hopefully, she would be up to the task and be able to convince Matt to follow.
Almawt Virus Series (Book 2): Days Since...Xavier [Day 853] Page 13