Surviving The End (Book 3): New World

by Hamilton, Grace

  “We should never have let her go out to that park without one of us there,” Shane said. “We knew it was a risk. But who could have anticipated Pike tricking the sheriff to get out of his cell? I thought James was smarter than that. He should have flushed the key down the toilet and left the guy to rot. His compassion put our daughter in danger.”

  Beth and Jodi had headed directly to the park as soon as Mike had told them the story. What if Pike was there? What if his whole gang had showed up and got the drop on them?

  “It’s fine,” Mike said, though he didn’t believe it for a second. He knew the kind of man Pike was. “Most likely, the dude headed straight out of town. We killed most of his crew. They’d have to be stupid to stick around.”

  He was in the foyer, about to turn around and head back the other way, when he heard the rumble of an engine. He went to the window beside the front door and saw the sheriff’s cruiser pull up in front of the gate.

  “He’s here,” he said, opening the front door. “I’ll go let him in.”

  Stepping outside into the blistering heat, he saw the sheriff through the slats. James was behind the wheel, hunched over as if in pain. Mike unlatched the gate, the windchime ringing as he pulled it open, but James didn’t seem to notice. When Mike tapped on the window, it startled the sheriff, and he thrashed on his seat, hitting the horn in the process.

  “Hey, Sheriff, what’s the deal?” Mike said. “Did you get hit in the head or something?”

  Finally, James opened his door, but when he stepped outside, his leg buckled. He stumbled forward and caught himself against the fence, causing the windchimes to ring madly. Something serious had gone down. The sheriff was deeply shaken. Mike grabbed him by the shoulder to steady him.

  “Hey, Sheriff, are you okay?” he asked. “What happened?”

  “Let’s go in and talk,” James said. He reached back into the cruiser and grabbed something from the passenger seat. Only when he started through the gate did Mike realize it was a big bottle of Maker’s Mark. Fortunately, it didn’t look like the wax seal had been broken, so the sheriff wasn’t driving drunk.

  “Don’t you want to pull your car into the driveway?” Mike asked.

  James waved him off as he headed for the front door. “Later. I’ll do it later.”

  Instead of going inside the house, when he reached the porch, James sat down. He started picking at the wax on the bottle. Mike sat down beside him.

  “Hey, James, buddy, what happened?” he asked. “How is Violet doing?”

  “He was there,” the sheriff said. “Pike went straight to the park and tried to hold Violet hostage.”

  He let the story hang in the air for a few seconds, so finally Mike said, “And? Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine,” he said, still picking at the wax. “Beth and Jodi are with her now. She’s shaken up, but she doesn’t appear to be injured.”

  He finally got the wax seal off the bottle, but instead of casting it aside, he put it in his shirt pocket. Mike noticed that his hands were trembling. He twisted off the cap, sniffed the bourbon, then thrust the bottle at Mike.

  “You want a drink?” he said. “I know I shouldn’t be drinking on the job, but it’s been a rough day. I’m so glad that kid didn’t get hurt. If I had gotten there a minute later…well, I just don’t want to think about what might have happened.”

  Mike hesitated a moment, then took the bottle from him. He took a small swig. Mike hadn’t drunk bourbon in a long time, and it mostly tasted like fire filling his mouth and pouring down his throat.

  “Be careful,” James said, taking the bottle from him. “It’s strong stuff if you’re not used to it.”

  Mike wiped his mouth. “And what happened to our prisoner? Tell me you got him.”

  The sheriff didn’t answer right away. He put the bottle to his lips, lowered it, seemed about to say something, then raised the bottle to his lips again. Finally, he took a nice long drink.

  “Pike escaped into the swamp,” he said, finally.

  “He did what?” Mike was sure he’d misheard.

  “Escaped into the swamp,” James said loudly.

  It didn’t make any sense. The nearest swamp was miles away from the local park, and the little muddy creek that flowed along the back side of the park hardly qualified. The sheriff would have had to drive to the swamp. Something about James’s demeanor suggested there was a lot more to the story, and whatever it was, it had deeply disturbed him. Mike studied his face.

  He went to the swamp to hunt gators not that long ago, Mike thought.

  The pieces began to come together in his mind, but he wanted to ask as delicately as possible. He’d never seen the old sheriff in such a state.

  “The gators got him?”

  The look James gave him answered the question without him having to say a word. It was a look both pleased and troubled, smiling but unhappy. James took another long drink, which ended with a cough and belch. He tried to hand bottle to Mike, but Mike waved it off.

  It was more than Pike deserved, he thought. Still, he was curious. He really wanted to ask James for details, but he didn’t think he would get much out of him at the moment. Maybe later. The sheriff had done their dirty work, and Mike felt bad for him. He also felt immensely grateful, and he clapped the man on the back.

  “I’ll have to go back and clean the cell,” James said. “He made a big mess in there.”

  His mustache was in disarray, and he spent a moment fixing it by twisting either end between his fingers. When he did, Mike realized he had a fat lip. He was just about to ask about it when he heard the front door swing open. Shane stood there, and by the grim look on his face, Mike assumed he’d overheard the conversation.

  “Thanks for everything, Sheriff,” Shane said, “but are we still in danger? Even with Pike gone…”

  The sheriff put the cap back on the bottle and set it on the porch beside him. “Yes, I’m afraid so. Pike managed to get hold of some of his people, and they might be headed this way. I don’t know how many, I don’t know when, and I don’t know what they’ll do.”

  “We’ll be ready,” Shane said. “What do you need from us, Sheriff?”

  “Good question,” the sheriff said. “Mike, did you bring those guns back here?”

  “I did, Sheriff,” Mike said. “I’ll tell you what we need to do. We need to secure our entire community. Put a roadblock on every road leading into town. Block all entrances. Surround the whole area.”

  “Our community is far too large to fence in the whole area,” James said. “We have neither the resources nor the manpower to get it done in a reasonable amount of time. Believe me, Mike, I wish it were possible. I’d build a wall a hundred feet high and top it with razor wire.”

  Shane stepped outside and sat down between the men. Mike noted that Corbin was standing within earshot in the foyer.

  “The town might be too large to fence in,” Shane said, “but we have to reduce the potential flow of traffic. I think Mike is right about the roadblocks.”

  “Built out of what?” the sheriff said.

  “Out of stalled cars, like all the roadblocks we encountered on the way here,” Mike said. “You just line them up bumper to bumper across all lanes. Then we set up volunteer patrols.”

  “We won’t be able to stop everyone,” the sheriff said.

  “We don’t have to,” Shane said. “We’re not looking to stop individuals. We’re looking to prevent a large biker gang from riding into town to get revenge. There aren’t that many major roads into town anyway. It shouldn’t be that hard.”

  “It’s basically one highway,” Mike said. “If we block both ends of highway 23, we’ll prevent any large groups from driving into town.”

  James picked up the bottle, swirled it around, and set it back down. “Yeah, I think that’d work, but we’ll want to set up lookout points beyond the roadblocks. Volunteers with radios could warn us of an approaching threat. After all, the roadblock is only a temporary measur
e. If people want in, they’ll find a way.”

  “We can do that,” Mike said. “Let’s get on it. We can start today.”

  “Now, wait a minute, gentlemen,” James said. “We can’t just start blocking roads. We’ll need the mayor’s approval. Frank may get a bit nervous about taking such a drastic step. He’s got a lot of residents in this town breathing down his neck. The little committee he cobbled together might balk at the idea of blocking roads. To be honest, I don’t know how seriously he’s taking the town’s safety. He’s mostly just trying to keep people off his back.”

  “Well, fine then,” Mike said. “Have the mayor declare martial law. Tell people it’s an emergency, which it is. We have to get this done, Sheriff.”

  “I hear you.”

  “You don’t agree?” Mike said.

  James groaned and rose from the porch, taking the bottle with him. He took a few steps down the sidewalk, stopped, and took another swig from the bottle. It was perhaps one drink too many. This clearly wasn’t celebratory drinking.

  “James, what’s the problem?” Mike asked, trying to speak as gently as possible. “Are you well?”

  “I’m fine,” James said, facing away from them.

  “Come on, old friend. Level with us. What’s really bothering you?”

  The sheriff turned to them, and Mike was surprised to see tears in his eyes. “Before the EMP, I never would have considered doing something like I did to Pike. Such a terrible idea would never have crossed my mind.”

  “What you did to Pike was well earned,” Shane said.

  James took another swig from the bottle, then screwed the cap on and handed it to Mike.

  “I couldn’t give him another chance to escape,” James said. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Already, he was starting to sway on his feet, so Mike went to him and guided him back to the porch. “He kept gloating, making those stupid motorcycle noises, and laughing.”

  “He was planning something worse,” Shane said. “You protected us, James. Don’t feel bad about that.”

  “I wish it was so easy.” The sheriff hung his head, took his hat off, and fanned his face with it. “I’ve put up with a lot of rascals, and some real scummy people, over the years, and I was often tempted to overreact, but I never did it. I always followed the law and behaved like a professional. Let the court handle it, you know? But this was an act of revenge, pure and simple.”

  “Revenge isn’t always wrong,” Shane said, “not if it stops a bad man from hurting people.”

  “Right.” James put his hat back on his head. “I just hope it wasn’t too late.” He looked at Mike, eyes full of fear. Seeing the sheriff like that sent a shiver down Mike’s spine. “He already talked to his people. Some guy named Trent. I don’t know how big this gang is, but they’re on their way. Pike liked to boast and threaten, but his laughter was real. Whatever’s coming, it’s bad. Real bad.”

  12

  Despite all the things she had to worry about, a hundred troubles weighing on her shoulders, Beth lost herself in the familiar joys of gardening. Violet had done a great job of bringing together a team of volunteers. Everyone seemed invested in the project, and they were working hard. Zoe and Violet had already designated and marked off rows for different vegetables.

  Beth tried not to hover. She could tell Violet preferred to work away from family. She was finally exerting some independence. Even Ruby didn’t have much to do, as Violet felt her way from row to row, chatting with the volunteers around her. She was flourishing, and it made Beth both proud and nervous at the same time. Though she kept an eye on her granddaughter throughout the morning, she tried not to intrude.

  “She’s a bright girl.” The woman named Marna was organizing garden tools along the edge of the tilled ground. She had long, straight hair, almost completely white, but a soft, round face and bright eyes. Her dress was a loose tie-dyed number, clearly handmade. “Violet doesn’t let anyone hold her disability against her.”

  It was a strange observation. Beth wasn’t entirely sure what she meant. Perhaps it was a nice way of saying Violet was willful. “I’m glad she’s in a good mood, especially after what happened yesterday. I can’t believe how quickly she bounced back. She still has a serious injury in her shoulder.”

  “She told us about that,” Marna said, “but you wouldn’t know it from watching her. She doesn’t let the pain show.”

  “Yeah, that’s sometimes a good thing and sometimes a bad thing,” Beth noted.

  As she was talking to Marna, she noticed a familiar figure working his way through the crowd. A pale and bony fellow with an unkempt beard, he wore an old, frayed flannel shirt. He was headed straight toward her, a stern and determined look on his face.

  “Hey, you,” he said, gesturing at Beth with a dismissive flip of his hand. “Blevins. I want to talk to you.”

  He spoke so loudly that it immediately drew the attention of every volunteer. People were still on edge from Pike’s attack, so some of them reached for weapons. Beth saw hands sliding under jackets, reaching into pockets. If the weirdo noticed, he didn’t care. He stomped right toward Beth and invaded her personal bubble like an airborne virus. She smelled him. The young man clearly hadn’t bathed in many days, and a ripeness swirled around him like flies. Trying not to gag, she took a step back.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” Beth said, trying to adopt her snootiest tone. She didn’t care to be shouted at by a man who’d never said so much as hello. “Staring at each other at town meetings doesn’t count. Maybe we should exchange pleasantries before we start being rude.”

  He made a weird face, his eyebrows working up and down. “I’m not yelling.” He looked at the crowd of volunteers slowly closing in about him. “I’m not yelling,” he said again, more insistently. “I just want to talk to you, okay? I want to have a civilized conversation. You know me already, don’t you?”

  “I’ve seen you,” Beth replied, and just to be ornery, she added, “I don’t quite remember your name.”

  “Ryan,” he said, giving her an awkward little bow. “And you’re Blevins.”

  “Beth Bevin,” she corrected. How was she going to get out of this without creating a scene? “Nice to meet you. How can I help you today, Ryan? As you can see, we’re working on a community garden. A practical solution to a growing problem.”

  “Right,” he said, shaking his head as if erasing everything she’d just said. “I want to reason with you, Blevins, like a normal human being. I want to appeal to your humanity.”

  She was already feeling the stress of this encounter settling high in her belly, and she began to absently rub a spot between her stomach and sternum. All eyes were on her now, and Violet had a furious scowl on her face.

  “You seem like someone who cares about the basic survival of other people,” Ryan continued. “You’re not simply a tribalist who only looks after her own brood. After all, you’re out here helping with a communal garden. That is a hopeful sign, and if I’m being optimistic, I read it as more than simply a ruse to stave off criticism.”

  She hated the way he spoke, lingering on big words, as if he thought they gave him extra authority. He also had a tendency to tip his head down when he spoke so that he was looking at her from under his brow. Beth was conflicted. Part of her wanted to shut this guy down for good, to unload the longest rant of her life, but the other part of her wanted to leave the area before her sour stomach turned her inside out.

  “Nobody wants to force you to do anything,” Ryan continued. “Nobody wants jack-booted thugs breaking into homes. I don’t want that, and I’m not asking for it. What I want is for compassionate people throughout this community to see the greater need and willingly contribute their fair share. I’m not here to argue with you, Blevins. I’m here to inspire you, if I can, to care enough that you will do the right thing out of the goodness of your heart.”

  Alarmingly, Beth saw a few of the volunteers nodding at his words. They drew closer, falling in behind R
yan as if forming ranks. This tipped Beth in the direction of her anger, and she rose up as tall as she could, though Ryan still towered over her.

  “I don’t know how many different ways I can say it,” she said. “You have worked up this notion that I have some vast, secret storehouse of food hidden on my property without considering the source of the rumor. Has Nora ever seen this secret storehouse? No, of course not. Has she seen evidence of it? No, she has not. I gave her a few cans of food, and that’s all she’s ever seen. Somehow, she’s cooked up the ridiculous idea, and you, who otherwise seem like a rational person, have latched onto it like a hungry deer tick. Listen carefully to me, Ryan. I don’t have a secret storehouse. All I have are a bunch of packets of seeds that I have purchased over the last couple of years, and I’ve already proved that I’m willing to share them.”

  “She doth protest too much,” Ryan said, glancing over his shoulder at the handful of people who had gathered behind him. “This rumor isn’t based on nothing, Blevins. Nora has heard and seen plenty, and others in the community have heard plenty. You’ve been stashing away every jar, can, and bucket of food you can get your hands on. Your whole family is having big cookout parties in the backyard behind your fence, firing off guns day and night, and living it up while children are starving.”

  The effect of his words on some in the crowd was remarkable. Beth saw the transformation before her eyes as friendly faces became angry, indignant, as those who had been working by her side only a few minutes ago began to glare at her. Zoe finally swooped in from the side to stand in between Beth and Ryan.

  “Okay, can we stop this?” the librarian said. “We are here doing a job. This is not the proper venue for such a debate. Save it for the town meeting.”

  “I don’t see why this young man has to come in here and start yelling at people,” Marna said. “Whatever his grievances might be, it’s incredibly rude. Such a temper.”