Darker Days

by A. J. Powers

  “They’re still breathing,” Shelton replied, trying to sound as cold-hearted as his counterpart standing in front of him. Sounding scared and defeated would only add to Arlo’s already over-inflated confidence.

  “Hmm. Well, I suppose an exchange is in order then.” Arlo looked over at the man he was with and nodded.

  The man took one of his hands off his CZ Scorpion and made a hand signal back toward the rec center. Shortly after, several armed men rounded the corner with a little less than a dozen kids and a few older prisoners. Shelton turned around and whistled, prompting Stevens and Horton to jump off the wagon.

  “So, how did you get your hands on that?” Shelton asked, nodding toward the armed man’s short-barreled carbine.

  Arlo smiled. “There are benefits to being me,” he replied with a leer.

  The sound of whimpering and soft cries was the first indication that the kids were near. They walked in a line, tied together at their wrists. Clay looked at each face as they passed.

  “Son!” Arlo said, his face lighting up with a genuine smile as Stevens and Horton escorted their prisoners to the exchange point.

  Brendan walked up and gave Arlo a hug. “Good to see you, Dad.”

  Arlo put his hand on Brendan’s shoulder and gave him a squeeze. “I trust that our old friend, Mayor Shelton, treated you well?”

  Brendan made a sour face. “Not exactly a five-star hotel,” he said as he glared at Shelton, “but I suppose it could have been worse.”

  Just then, Clay caught a glimpse of her face—Olesya. Both Clay and Shelton immediately noticed the bruising and swelling around her eye.

  Arlo turned to see what they were staring at. “Ahh, yes,” he said, “that one is a bit feisty. She nearly killed one of my men with a broken bottle.” He turned back to look Shelton in the eye. “Not very lady-like of her, huh?”

  Shelton was seething, but refused to let his anger take control—at least not while Arlo could still harm the kids. After fighting the urge to give Arlo an up close and personal introduction with the business end of his Browning Hi Power, Shelton was finally able to calm himself enough to speak. “Arlo, if you so much as touch a hair on another person in my town…”

  Arlo was unconcerned with Shelton’s vague threat. He looked at the last of the children walking by then back at Shelton. “Whether any more of your people get hurt or not is not up to me—it’s entirely up to you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Shelton replied.

  “Ten years ago, you gave me an impossible choice to make. Now, my dear friend, I am returning the favor.”

  Brendan revealed that sinister grin that caused Clay to cringe.

  “You and your people have seven days to vacate the town,” Arlo said.

  Shelton felt as if he had just been punched in the gut by a gorilla. The rage boiling in his blood had gone stone cold with Arlo’s words. His demeanor transformed from an angry, protective father to that of a little boy being bullied on the playground. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, his words disrupted by a tremble. “Is this how you’re getting back at us?”

  Arlo scoffed. “Do you really think I am that petty, Barry? I assure you, the history between us is just that—history. This is not personal; it’s just business.”

  “Just business?” Shelton responded. “How is this ‘just business?’”

  “It took me a while to find my footing out here, but once I did, things have been going quite well. As you can see,” Arlo gestured toward the men standing guard behind him, “And, as luck would have it, a few months ago I ran into an old friend who, like me, had taken a sizeable group under his wing. We decided it would be in our best interests to combine arms—to work together and build something great!” Arlo’s lips slowly bent into a belligerent smile. “Unfortunately, for your precious town anyway, we’ve outgrown our current accommodations and need a more suitable location. It just so happens that Liberty is the perfect fit. Like I said, just business.”

  Shelton’s silence was music to Arlo’s ears. “And if we don’t leave?” Shelton asked, almost timidly.

  Arlo took a comb out of his pocket and ran it through his greasy, black hair. The grin on his face faded and his malevolent eyes narrowed. “Well,” he said as he leaned in toward Shelton’s ear, “I do believe that’s a bridge you don’t want to cross.”

  Chapter 21

  Bed…It was only twenty feet away, yet might as well have been in El Paso. Since returning late last night with Shelton and the kids, Clay had been unable to find more than five consecutive minutes to sleep. After observing the tearful reunion between Vlad and Olesya, Clay was pulled into meeting after meeting with Shelton and the other town leaders to discuss the situation with Arlo.

  Clay hadn’t been expecting a thirty-six-hour day to cap off the hellish week he had been through. Though he was grateful to be on the right side of the soil, he felt like death. Ignoring the call of the comfortable, over-sized mattress upstairs, Clay still had one last matter to address before bed and he dreaded it.

  Clay checked his watch as he tapped his feet on the hardwood floor of Vlad’s living room. A brew of exhaustion and frustration came out in the form of a sigh while he waited for everyone to arrive. He felt a soft, reassuring hand on his arm, gently stroking his bicep. Ordinarily, Kelsey’s touch brought immediate relief to any angst-filled situation, but not tonight. In fact, her caress seemed to make him feel worse.

  Geoff and Ruth came downstairs about the time Megan and Lona walked in, fresh off their shift at the infirmary, which was evident by the bags under their eyes and the stains on their clothes. A few minutes later, Blake had returned with Levi and Dusty; everyone was present.

  Every eye in the room was fixed on Clay, expecting an update on what had happened—except for Kelsey, who sat on the couch, staring at the floor; she already knew what Clay was about to say and it took her every ounce of strength to keep her composure.

  “So, what’s going on?” Megan asked.

  “Well,” Clay said before pausing for a moment. He racked his brain to find the right words, but all that managed to come out was, “Liberty is preparing for war.”

  Clay’s words hung heavy in the air like storm clouds on the horizon. A rogue sniffle from Kelsey was the only thing that broke the palpable silence.

  “The men who attacked us last week…that wasn’t just some random strike by a bunch of bandits. It was carried out by someone who knows this town very well…” Clay shut his eyes for a minute as the room began to spin a little. “Listen, I don’t have it in me to go into all the details right now, but the man made it abundantly clear: in seven days, he and his crew will be back to take over this town,” Clay said. He took a deep breath before adding, “One way or another.”

  Megan and Ruth both had the same response—putting their hands over their mouths as they gasped in horror—while murmurs began to fill the room from the others. Lona found herself clinging to Blake’s uninjured arm, pulling herself close to him.

  “So, what do we do?” Geoff asked.

  “Well, that’s why I called for this meeting. After a long night of discussions and planning with Shelton and some other people in town, it was decided that the town leaders, along with volunteers, would stay and defend Liberty.”

  “Hell yeah!” Dusty shouted. “Bring it on!”

  “Easy, Dust,” Clay said, trying to get the teenaged girl to understand the gravity of the situation. “Also,” Clay followed up, “those who will not be staying behind to defend will need a place to go. Ruth, I know I really should have talked to you first, but I told the mayor that everyone was welcome to return to Northfield and stay on the farm until this all blows over.”

  Ruth looked at Clay with glassy eyes, “Of course, that’s okay,” she said, as if there was no other possible answer.

  Clay was relieved with her response. It wasn’t his place to volunteer her family’s land to house the refugees from Liberty, but there was no other option. “It’s not goi
ng to be easy and things are going to be cramped, but the folks need a place to stay, especially once winter hits.”

  “Winter?” Geoff asked. “How long do you think this will last?”

  Clay shook his head. “I have no idea.” He shrugged his shoulders before continuing, “Ideally, this man, Arlo, is bluffing and has a much weaker force than he claims. If that’s the case, this will be over in a hurry.”

  “And if we don’t live in a perfect world?” Megan asked, immediately catching the irony of her question.

  Clay’s eyes looked past the group of people in front of him and he found himself lost in thought. The weight of everyone expecting him to have a plan became crushing. “Weeks? Months?” he said as he once again shook his head. He blinked his eyes a few times, snapping himself out of his self-induced trance. He then met every eye in the room with his own before saying, “We hope for the best, but plan as if Arlo isn’t lying about the strength of his force.”

  The room was shrouded in darkness as Clay’s statement burrowed into their souls. Right then, they all knew that it was a strong possibility that within a few weeks, the beloved town of Liberty Township would cease to exist.

  “I have already volunteered to stay and fight,” Clay said. He saw Kelsey out of the corner of his eye trying to stifle her emotions. “The people of this town were there for me in my darkest hours; I couldn’t call myself their friend if I wasn’t willing to do the same for them. So…” Clay gave a quick glance around the room. “This is absolutely voluntary; nobody should feel ashamed if they decide to leave…”

  Dusty practically scoffed at Clay. “You know I’m in,” she said, a little too enthusiastically.

  Megan, who was fighting off tears, nodded. “I’ll stay.”

  Megan’s words evoked a confident “Me, too,” out of Levi, which came as no surprise.

  Geoff looked over at Ruth—she was terrified. He took a breath to speak, but Clay looked him in the eye and shook his head. Geoff closed his mouth, furrowed his brows and grunted.

  “I’ll stay,” a young voice said.

  Clay couldn’t help but respect his willingness, but there was no way he was going to allow it. “Blake, I appreciate the offer, but you need to give that arm time to heal.” Clay then looked over at Lona and said, “And I need you to see to it that he follows those orders.”

  Relief flashed across Lona’s face as she realized she would be returning home to Northfield with Blake and the others.

  “Are there any questions?” Clay asked, looking around the room.

  “When do we leave?” Ruth asked.

  “Two days…Three, max. Mayor Shelton wants everyone out of here by then so we can have time to stage the defense. We have our two wagons and Liberty is sending all five of theirs. There won’t be enough room to carry everyone on the wagons, so the wounded and children get precedence. Be ready to do some walking,” Clay said glumly.

  With no other questions, Clay adjourned the meeting and the room quickly emptied as they prepared for the coming departure.

  Geoff walked up to Clay, “What gives, man? You know I can help out here,” he said.

  Clay put his hands up to try and calm his irritated friend. “Do you really think I would doubt that?” Clay asked, almost offended. “I want someone that I trust—someone I trust with my life—to keep things safe back home. Shelton is sending a few of his guys to help out, but I need to know my family is safe. If I can’t be there to do it, then I don’t want anyone else to but you. Besides, I imagine Ruth wouldn’t mind having you around to help out during her morning sickness…”

  The frustration in Geoff’s eyes subsided. He was honored with Clay’s reason to bench him for the game.

  “All right,” Geoff said, conceding to Clay’s request. “I’ll make sure things run smoothly until you get back.”

  “Thanks,” Clay said before his shoulders dropped and his expression twisted into solemn anguish. “Geoff…just in case I don’t—”

  “Shut your mouth, fool,” Geoff interrupted. “Don’t you finish that sentence or so help me, you’ll be limping your way over to the wagons with the other wounded,” Geoff said with a half-smile.

  Clay wanted to laugh at Geoff’s response, but the words that never left his lips were still bouncing around his head. He looked Geoff in the eye and said, “Take care of them.”

  “As if they are my own, brother,” Geoff said.

  ****

  Clay walked into Shelton’s office. The mayor’s face was buried in inventory sheets, maps, and an alphabetical list of the residents—several names had been scratched off.

  Shelton looked up at Clay. “How ya holdin’ up, Clay?”

  “Exhausted.”

  “It’s been a long day; go get some sleep,” Shelton said.

  “I will, but I needed to stop by and let you know that Megan, Dusty and Levi are also staying here to help out.”

  “Are you sure? Are they sure?” Shelton asked. “Clay, this isn’t your fight. You don’t need to do this.”

  Clay mustered up a smile. “Your fight is my fight, Barry.”

  Shelton was overcome with gratitude. “Clay, I don’t even know what to say…”

  “Just tell us how we can be of most use to you.”

  Shelton glanced down at the mountain of papers on his desk. To say he was overwhelmed would have been a gross understatement. How, in ten short years, did he go from a maintenance manager for a small cable company to mayor, and now military commander, of a post-society town? It was beyond believable to the aging man, but in a world where crazy is the new normal, it almost started to make sense.

  After a lengthy sigh, Shelton looked back up at Clay. “Go get some rest, Clay. I’ll have Captain Kohler sync up with you in the morning and we’ll get y’all started on some things.”

  Clay nodded before giving a feigned salute. “Aye, aye,” he said, giving Shelton a much-needed laugh. As Clay reached the door, he turned back around and looked at Shelton, a serious look on his face. “We’ll win this, Barry…We will.”

  “Yeah…I know we will,” he lied.

  Chapter 22

  It was a ghost town, or it certainly felt that way. In the nearly nine years Clay had visited Liberty, he had never seen the place so still; so hushed. Only the frosty breeze in the air kept the sound of silence at bay. Many of the town’s buildings had been repurposed into war rooms, armories, and barracks, while others had been sacrificed entirely for materials to harden the defenses around the perimeter. The few dozen vehicles that remained inside the gates had been strategically positioned around town, most of which were placed near the main gate, creating a choke point for the attackers if they were to break through. Drums—both steel and plastic, filled with sand and water—haphazardly pockmarked the streets and grassy fields separating the homes. The three-story clock tower—which had been erected just six months before the ash fell—had been fortified with steel plates, sandbags, and an enormous amount of lumber. The tower, which was located at the center of a roundabout near the front gate, would be a crucial asset for Liberty. With a sharpshooter and a spotter stationed there around the clock, the once-iconic structure would be the eyes for the town—about as close to satellite feed as one could get anymore.

  Most of the northern and eastern boundaries took advantage of a steep drop-off down to a stream, giving it a nice geographical border. The sharp natural grade of the landscape coupled with a reasonably sturdy fence erected shortly after the first winter made that entire area an unlikely point of attack. While some efforts were made to strengthen the northern property line, reinforcements were focused to just a few vulnerable locations, most of which were on the western side.

  Though unlikely to be breached, Captain Kohler wouldn’t allow for such a large section of perimeter to go unmanned, so he stationed three small groups to cover the entire back border. With baseball fresh on the mind, the entire northern most half of town was known as “outfield” since only three “players” would be covering su
ch a large swath of land.

  As he sat in one of the dozens of foxholes dug on Captain Kohler’s orders, Clay marveled at just how much the peaceful city had transformed over the past week. The quaint town of Liberty Township now looked like it belonged next to the Alamo rather than part of an HOA. It went from Mayberry, USA to Camp Mabry overnight. The sight was both ominous and awe-inspiring, truly something to behold.

  The seventh day looked to exit the same way it had entered: with a whimper. As the sun dipped behind the horizon, the warriors who stayed behind to defend the town sat anxiously at their assigned posts, waiting for an enemy that had already struck fear and terror into their souls.

  Clay started to wonder if Arlo had been bluffing after all. But then he recalled the look on Arlo’s face—the sincerity in his eyes. His gaze was filled with determination, but lacked deceit. No, Arlo and his men were coming and thinking otherwise would be a dangerous lie to tell himself.

  Clay looked up at the clock tower and wondered what was going through Dusty’s head as she kept her scope glued to the tree line in the distance. Clay and Dusty had been through their fair share of battles in the past, but this was different; this was war. Over the years, Clay had seen the flash of fear in her eyes on a few occasions, and though she’d never admit it, Dusty got scared like everyone else—she just happened to be better at masking it than everyone else.

  Nevertheless, Clay wasn’t terribly worried about Dusty. She was tougher than most guys he had met in the wastelands, and regardless of what cruel situations the world slung at her, the teenager would grit through and emerge victorious.

  Megan, on the other hand…

  Clay was worried about his sister—the last of his kin from the old world. As with everyone in this new world, Megan had not been exempt from facing violence. But, apart from that fateful night in their childhood home many years ago, she had never even pulled her gun on another man, much less squeezed the trigger. It wasn’t that he doubted her toughness—Megan had always risen to whatever challenge that came her way—but there was no telling how she would handle this kind of stress. For that matter, there was no way to tell how Clay would handle the stress. The unknowns terrified him, but there was no turning back now. The wheels were already in motion and there were only two ways to get off this ride: victory or defeat—the latter likely meaning death.