by Kip Nelson
Maggie grabbed a jacket and swung it around her arms, then holstered a pistol in the small of her back. “We're going to have to get you a gun as well, and get ourselves some holsters. I really want a badge, too,” she said, seeming to relish this new role.
For Maggie, this was a chance to reclaim some normalcy in her life. She had been through a great deal since the world had changed, but now she was doing something that she knew. She was back to fulfilling what she always had seen as her grand purpose in life; dispensing justice and protecting the innocent.
Before they left, Maggie called out to Tristan, who bid them farewell, but just as Maggie opened the door she found Freddie there, his hand raised ready to knock. They both laughed at the opportune timing, and Maggie told Freddie about how she and Luis were just about to leave. Freddie said he was hoping to have a word with Tristan.
“Be my guest,” Maggie said, and left the two of them to it.
Freddie smiled at Luis as the deputy followed the sheriff out, and then Freddie and Tristan were alone.
“How are you doing? I haven't had the chance to speak to you for a while, what with everything going on,” Freddie began. Tristan shrugged.
“I'm okay, I guess, about as good as anyone can be.”
“How do you feel about your mom becoming sheriff?”
“It's cool, it makes her happy. She was always at her best when she was able to do something. I don't think she liked sitting around here day after day. But Freddie, I must be honest with you, I'm not really in the mood for a counseling session right now. I'd just prefer to be alone.”
“I get that. How are your fists, by the way?” Freddie asked.
Tristan looked down at his knuckles, the ones he had used to beat down Peter, and his cheeks flushed red.
“It's okay,” Freddie said, “I'm not always going to condone violence, but it is a part of human nature and it can be very cathartic. For what it's worth, I think you did the right thing.”
“I thought I'd feel better afterward, like it would make up for everything he'd put me through, but I just feel empty.”
“That's the thing about violence and destruction, you just tear things down rather than building them up. In my opinion, it's a much better thing to create something new, to be able to look out and see the fruits of your labor. I think Mack is of the same mind, and that's why he's trying to build New Haven into a place that we all can be proud of.”
Tristan pondered the words for a few moments, and then sighed. “Is there anything in particular you wanted to talk to me about?” he asked.
“We're all trying to move past what happened. Saul and I are trying to help the Lost Children acclimatize themselves to their new surroundings. I thought you might like to help, considering you've already completed the journey they're just starting. I wouldn't ask too much of you, just to be there to talk to them, and help me and Saul get to know them as well, as you lived with them for a while.”
“I don't know if I'd be much good. I think they all see me as a traitor.”
“Really?”
“I turned my back on them first. If it wasn't for me, they would have stayed in their territory, and wouldn't be here in the first place.”
“I think you know that's not true. You said Peter was hell-bent on moving into the city. I've heard some of them speaking. Maybe when you left they saw you as a traitor because that's what Peter told them to think, but now they look at you as someone who saw the truth before they did. They've all seen Peter's true nature now, and they're all dealing with their own guilt and shame. I think it really would help them if you would come with me. It might even help you as well.”
Freddie could sense Tristan still was uncertain, and the young man tossed the idea around in his head, again and again, eventually agreeing. Freddie beamed and clapped the young man on the shoulders. Leading him out into the heart of New Haven, they saw Saul teaching children how to build walls properly, so they would withstand a force crashing against them. He was using the way the barrier was built to underscore the points he was making. When Freddie and Tristan approached some of them waved. Tristan was glad for this, although some of them, the older ones especially, looked at him with wary eyes, suspicion clear on their faces. It would take some time for them to reconcile their differences.
While they stood there, Freddie noticed Tristan was scanning the group, and the counselor enjoyed a secret smile.
“Looking for someone in particular?” he asked. Tristan scowled, annoyed that Freddie seemed to know what was on his mind.
“How is she?” he asked, referring to Sharon.
Tristan hadn't spoken to her ever since he had defeated Peter, but he had seen her around, and she was on his mind often. He hated the way he felt about her, but he didn't seem to be able to stop himself.
“I think she's doing okay, for the most part, although she obviously has a lot to deal with. She's been spending time with her mother and getting used to being with her again. Of course, if you did want to know for sure then you could ask her.”
“I'm not going to speak to her again,” Tristan said with a clenched jaw, and for a moment he even believed himself.
Freddie nodded his head. “I need to go speak to Peter now. Would you like to accompany me?” he asked, and the two of them left Saul and the other children to go to where Peter was being held.
Chapter Twelve
“You know you could have stayed with Saul and the others if you wanted to,” Freddie said as they approached the small building that served as a makeshift jail.
Freddie was concerned about Tristan's well-being, and wondered if it had been a mistake to invite him along as he talked to their prisoner.
“No, it's okay. I think I'd prefer to give them some time to adjust without me. I'll just wait out here, if it's all the same to you. I'm kind of interested in seeing how he's doing.”
“I suppose the two of you were quite close.”
“He was my king,” Tristan said dispassionately, but Freddie suspected there was more to it than that.
These children had been a tight group, looking out for each other, and they had been led by the charismatic Peter. From what Freddie knew, Tristan had been one of Peter's trusted guards and he wouldn't have risen to that position had he not been close with the king. So many people had been through so much in this world, but Freddie thought Tristan had gone through more than most. He hoped the young man could move past his demons eventually, even though it would take time.
He didn't blame Tristan for not wanting to see Peter. In truth, Freddie didn't want to spend any time with the boy either, for he was a cruel and brutal person. If the world hadn't changed, Freddie assumed that, by now, Peter would have been in prison for violent crimes. The end of the world they knew had afforded him an opportunity for his vile desires to flourish. But still he had ended up in prison, although too many people had lost their lives for it to seem worth it.
While Freddie had suggested a treatment for criminals, he wasn't sure it applied in Peter's case, since the boy showed no remorse. Freddie wished they didn't have to deal with this ugly side of human nature, but they would have to find a way to deal with Peter eventually. He knew he was going to have an important part to play since he would have to talk with Peter a lot and try to understand what had caused him to be this way.
Freddie greeted the guard, who nodded at the counselor.
“How's he been today?” Freddie asked.
“Quiet, as usual,” the guard replied.
“I'll only be quick. I think you know Tristan,” Freddie said. The guard nodded.
Freddie left the two of them standing awkwardly beside each other as he opened the door to the dark room. There were only a couple of windows that let the light shine through. There was a bed, but nothing else. Freddie closed the door behind him, safe in the knowledge that all he had to do was shout and the guard would come in to stop Peter if he tried anything violent. Although given how vicious Peter had seemed, Freddie tried not to th
ink of all the things the violent boy could do in that short time between Freddie's scream and the guard's reaction.
Peter scowled at Freddie as the counselor entered. The soft light cast the boy in a silhouette, but his wounds were still visible. His skin was swollen and his eyes were bruised after the brutal attack by Tristan. Freddie never would have condoned violence as a proper punishment because it only caused more damage instead of helping. Yet, a part of him thought about Bob; thought about how Hank had been crammed into a small box; thought about all the other people who had suffered at the hands of this boy. As much as he tried not to feel it, there was a sense of satisfaction at knowing Peter had been hurt by someone he had wronged. Freddie stayed against the far wall, giving him the opportunity to reach for the door if Peter did lunge toward him. Peter was sitting with his shoulders slumped forward and didn't seem to be making any threatening moves.
Since the Lost Children had been disbanded, Peter had been at a loose end. In his sessions with the young boy, Freddie had noted how he seemed to be without purpose or agency. He had lived for the Lost Children. The Lost Children had been his way to make sense of the world and prove that he could live in it. When they chose to return to their parents, everything he believed in crumbled, and he found that what he thought to be true was an illusion. He believed the Lost Children had followed him because they too believed in his vision, but really they only had been scared. They would have followed anyone who had promised them safety.
Even his most ardent followers, like Sharon, had turned on Peter. In the end, he had been left standing alone, king of nothing, but that's what happens when you chose to rule based upon fear. It was something that Mack understood, and it was why he championed respect, trust, and cooperation. That was something Peter never would understand.
“Why do you keep coming here? I have nothing to say to you,” Peter said in a sullen tone.
“I know,” Freddie said, “Maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment. But it's my job to try getting you to talk. So, I'm going to keep trying until you finally do. Could be a waste of my time, but then again, I have a lot of time to waste. So, if there's anything you'd like to talk about, I'm here.”
“You've told me that before, and I'll tell you again, you're nothing to me. Why would I want to talk to you? What can you offer me?”
“Maybe more than you think,” Freddie replied calmly.
“You're just another adult who thinks they have everything worked out, but you don't. You're not any smarter than me, you're just older. So, you think you know what's going on.”
“I am curious why you have such a grudge against adults. What were your parents like?”
At this point, Peter threw back his head and laughed. He turned his battered face to look at Freddie, and pure hatred and disdain were in his eyes.
“Is that really what you're going to lead with? Isn't that the most basic thing they teach you in psychology? Sure, it all comes down to the parents. I could talk about them. Oh, I could talk about them a lot, but what's the point? They're dead now, like so many other people are dead.
“There's no point in dwelling on the past, only the future, and I'm not going to give you anything you can use against me. You're just trying to get in my head and I'm not going to let you. I don't have anything to say to you. So, you might as well leave and do whatever you people are doing out there.”
“We're building a new home for ourselves,” Freddie said.
Peter blew out his cheeks and scoffed, shaking his head as he sat back on the bed, his back against the wall. One leg was pulled up and his arm leaned against his knee, the other leg was straight and his foot hung off the bed.
“What's so funny about that?”
“You people think you can rebuild what was torn down but you can't. You're deluded, and you're wasting all this time. You should have let the new order take control when you had the chance. That was your biggest mistake.”
“You know that you could be a part of New Haven if you wanted to be.”
“Is that what you're calling it? Who thought of that? Stupid name. Hardly going to inspire fear in anyone else, is it?”
“It's not meant to inspire fear, it's meant to inspire hope. Did you hear what I said?”
“Of course, I heard. I'm not deaf. And I don't believe you. After what I did, nobody is going to want me around them, and they'd be smart to think that, because at the first opportunity I would take what I was destined to take. The dumbest thing you could do is to let me out, but I wouldn't be surprised if you did. You're all stupid, all of you.”
“Wouldn't you like to try being a part of something again, rather than just on your own in here?”
“I have you for company, don't I?” Peter said pointedly.
“I'm just trying to make you aware of all your options, because you do have them, even if you think you don't. If, over time, you could prove that you regretted what you did, and wanted to become a productive member of the settlement, that is something we could work toward. I'm not saying it would be easy, but I'm willing to help, if you were going to commit yourself to that aim.”
“You really are a fool, aren't you? I can't believe the rest of my kingdom was so quick to bow down to you. They're all fools. I could so easily play you if I wanted to do so, pretend to be a good little boy, and work hard to be a part of your new paradise, but it makes me sick just thinking about it. The moment I get out of here is the moment you all must start looking over your shoulders. This place you're building is just a sham, and you'll soon see that I'm right. One day I'm going to get out of here and I'm going to be a king again. You can't take that away from me. I'm never going to join you. You are the ones who have to join me.”
His voice rose and spittle flew from his mouth. Freddie bowed his head and left, met with loud shouts from Peter, who demanded that he stay.
“You can't leave unless I give you permission!” he said, and then Freddie closed the door, and the shouts were muffled.
“Another productive session,” the guard said dryly. Freddie cocked an eyebrow, then looked at Tristan, who didn't seem to react to the ravings of Peter.
“Are you going to make me talk to him at some point?” Tristan said as he and Freddie moved off.
“Not if you don't want to do so,” Freddie asked.
“I'd rather never see him again. It's bad enough that he's still here. Part of me wishes I had killed him. Maybe it would have been easier.”
“Do you really believe that?” Freddie asked. Tristan shrugged.
Freddie found it hard to know what to say. In the old world, he had been used to counseling middle class people about depression and anxiety, regular problems that were easier to advise about. The new world brought with it new challenges and more complicated issues, and Freddie was trying to figure his way through the new tangled morality so he could help others. However, most of all, he wanted to offer people a sounding board. Yet, because Tristan was Maggie's son, he felt more of a responsibility toward him, and Freddie hoped he was doing right by the boy.
Across the settlement, they saw Sharon and Deborah. Tristan froze in place and gave Sharon a stony look. Sharon held her mother's arm and looked away.
“Why don't you go and see if Saul needs any help,” Freddie suggested. Tristan nodded and walked away.
Teenage love still was complicated in the new world it seemed, Freddie mused as he approached Sharon and Deborah. He hadn't spoken to Deborah much, but she seemed like a nice woman. Sharon and Deborah mostly had kept to themselves as they had reunited. Freddie didn't blame them for that, especially since many people still held a grudge against Sharon for letting the Lost Children into the settlement.
“How are the two of you doing?” he asked.
“We're okay,” Deborah replied.
Sharon didn't say anything, and Freddie noticed how her eyes always were cast to the ground, and how she stayed a little bit behind her mother, using Deborah as a protective shield.
“Just going for a wa
lk, trying to see if there's anything we can help with.”
“There always will be something,” Freddie replied cheerily.
“Grace is probably the person you want to see about that, or maybe Hank. They're the ones sorting out who can do what.” Deborah nodded.
“Would you mind if I had a private word with Sharon?” he asked. Deborah looked at Sharon, who inclined her head, then Deborah walked away.
“I haven't had the opportunity to talk to you for a while. I can understand why you've been keeping to yourself, and I noticed the way you were looking at Tristan just then.”
“He hates me,” she said, her tremulous voice filled with emotion.
“Yes, he does, for the moment at least. But in time that will pass if you give him some space.”
“I'm not sure about that. I really hurt him. I'm responsible for a lot of people getting hurt.”
Freddie drew in some breath. “What you did will stay with you, and you'll have to deal with that for a while, but you can't hold yourself responsible for what Peter did. He was in control of himself and he didn't have to do what he did. It’s just like now. You're responsible for what you do next.”
“How is he?” she asked.
“Tristan, or Peter?”
“Both,” she said after a time.
Freddie's heart went out to her as he saw how much she had been affected by the ordeal. So, he told her about them both.
“I've noticed people looking at me,” she said, “people here hate me.”
“They don't. But I am going to tell you that we are keeping an eye on you, just in case you go to help free Peter.”
“I won't. I promise I won't,” she said in a hurried breath.
“I know you won't, but we must be careful. The thing is, Sharon, there is a place for you in New Haven, but you're going to have to work to earn the trust of us here. You're also going to have to work to earn Tristan's forgiveness, if you want it. It's going to take time, and it's not going to be easy, but the opportunity is there.”