by William Oday
She let go. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s just. You know.”
Theresa nodded. “I know. I wish Dad could’ve seen this, too.”
Beth felt tears welling up in her eyes. She wiped at them before they could escape and slide down her face.
Miro wrapped his long arm around them both and squeezed. “He wouldn’t have approved anyway. It’s better this way.”
Beth laughed.
The hollow laugh that betrays a bottomless well of misery.
“I should do it, right?” he whispered in her ear.
She nodded. Her heart ached that Mason would miss such a beautiful occasion.
Miro walked across the room and took Iridia’s hand. “Babe, we haven’t known each other long in the usual reckoning of things. But, the time we’ve spent together hasn’t been ordinary time. These months are years. I feel like I’ve known you forever. I feel like I’ve loved you forever.”
He dropped to a knee and pulled something out of the inner pocket of his coat. He raised it to her.
A ring.
Iridia sucked in a quick, little breath. Even her surprise was gorgeous.
“There aren’t any jewelers with reasonable opening hours right now,” Miro said. “So Beth gave this to us. It was the ring her father gave to her mother. Iridia—”
“Wait!” Iridia said.
Miro stuttered to silence.
“I can’t!”
His eyes went wide with fear.
“Not like this,” Iridia said. “Noor, pass me one of those flowers.”
Noor retrieved a single red rose at the peak of its ephemeral beauty.
Iridia tucked it into her hair. She looked like a post-apocalyptic Aphrodite. She adjusted it into place and then smiled. “Okay. Go ahead.”
Miro smiled. “Too bad Sarge couldn’t see this.” He raised the ring.
“I’m not dead yet.”
Beth spun around in shock to see her husband awake. He was awake! Mostly. His eyes were slits, but the barest hint of a smile rested on his face. He lay in the hospital bed looking like death might’ve been a better option.
Beth rushed to his side. Tears spilled off her cheeks.
“I’m okay, honey.”
Beth buried her head in his arm.
He groaned.
“Sorry!” Beth pulled back not meaning to hurt him.
“I will be okay, someday. So what were you hoping I’d see?”
“Welcome back, Sarge! You tough SOB!”
“Language, Miro!” Iridia said glancing at Noor.
Everyone took turns hugging Mason and even Miro had moisture lining his eyelids.
“It’s good to be back,” Mason said. “More than I can say.”
“Then don’t say,” Miro said. “Watch and listen while history is made!” He turned to Iridia and got back down on one knee. He searched through his pockets. “Where did I put it? It was here a second ago.”
Beth looked around the tile floor. “What?”
He looked around. “I just had it.”
“I swear, Miro, if you’ve lost my mother’s ring.”
Miro pulled it out and grinned. “Kidding!”
Beth almost laughed, but she wasn’t going to encourage him.
Miro raised it. “Iridia, I love you. Not because you’re hotter than a Houston summer. Which you are. But because your heart has stolen mine.”
Iridia blushed.
“I don’t want to be without you. This world is too crazy to face alone. And I don’t want to waste another second without you as my wife.”
Theresa handed Iridia a tissue.
She dabbed at her eyes.
He took her hand. “Iridia Reshenko, will you make me the happiest cowboy in the world and marry me?”
Iridia was already nodding before the question was finished being asked. “Yes! Yes! I love you Casemiro Pike!”
Miro slipped Mamaw’s ring onto her finger and kissed it. He jumped up with her in his arms and swung her in a circle. “Wahoo! That’s my girl!”
The spin slowed as Iridia pulled his head toward hers. Their eyes closed and their lips met.
Such beauty.
Such hope.
So important. Now more than ever.
Beth turned to Mason and saw a single tear on his cheek. She kissed it away. “Tough guys can cry too, you know.”
Another tear slid down his cheek. “I know.”
Noor tugged on Iridia’s pant leg to get her attention. It didn’t work at first. She tugged harder.
Iridia’s eyes opened and she pulled away from Miro’s mouth.
Noor peered up with a hopeful look in her eyes. “Can I be a flower girl in your wedding?”
Everyone laughed. Mason did too but then groaned in pain.
“Yes, dear,” Iridia said. “I wouldn’t let you not be one!”
Noor giggled. “Cool!”
Miro picked her up and hugged her into Iridia. He spun them all around until both girls were giggling hysterically.
Elio approached the side of the bed. “Mr. West—”
“Mason. Come on.” Mason replied. “Are you kidding?”
“Mason, I have a question I’d like to ask.” He took Theresa’s hand in his and pulled her forward. “Theresa and I have discussed it.”
Their daughter nodded in agreement.
Beth knew Miro was thinking of asking Iridia to marry him, but this proposal came out of the blue.
But that wasn’t to say it was unexpected.
She turned to Mason to see how he was handling it.
He had the self-administered IV injector in his hand. He pressed the big red button over and over.
He looked like he’d seen a ghost.
59
MASON cursed his luck. It turned out the question Elio had asked was even worse than the one he’d expected.
It was exactly six days later that Mason had said yes. And now another week later and things were already in motion.
Elio pushed the wheelchair that would be Mason’s main mode of transportation for several more weeks. “I’ll go up and introduce you. Then, you’ll come on and talk about your vision. Keep it short. Big picture stuff. Inspirational.”
Mason shook his head. “Why did I let you talk me into this?”
“We both know I couldn’t do that.”
It was the truth. Mason had considered it from every angle. He still didn’t know if it was the best thing. He just knew it felt like the right thing. After all, if no one stepped up, how would anything get done?
Elio pushed him up the ramp onto the stage. He parked him to the side as the crowd seated below applauded. “Mason, wave to the people.”
Mason flinched and got his hand up and waving at everyone. He forced a smile but was pretty sure it didn’t come out looking friendly.
Elio stepped up to the microphone stand. “Hello, everyone! It’s great to see you!” He gestured to Mason. “I’d like to introduce you to the next President of the United States of America.”
Yeah, maybe.
There was the small detail of an impending trial for the death of Gabriel Cruz. If that went well, there was then the additional detail of winning a legitimate election.
Mason waved.
The crowd roared its approval.
“He’s a hero, both in the old world and the new!” Elio shouted. “Who wants to hear a few words from our next President?”
Again, the crowd went wild.
Elio unhooked the mic and walked it over to Mason. “Introducing the Freedom Party’s candidate for presidency, Mason West!”
The crowd went crazy. It was too much energy.
He scanned left and right surveying for possible threats. His eyes fell upon Miro standing below the stage speaking into a mic at his wrist cuff. Miro shrugged and turned back to face the crowd.
Mason accepted the mic. He cleared his throat, which amplified through the speakers set up on each side of the stage.
“Sorry. Uh, hello everyone.”
&
nbsp; More cheering. He waited for them to quiet down.
“Thank you for the introduction, Elio. I don’t know how much of a hero I was or am. That’s for others to judge. I just know that I’ve always tried to do the right thing. And I promise that if you elect me President, I will continue to do that. I may not make the correct call every time, but I swear to you that every decision will always be with your best interests in mind. We can only do this together! We! The people!”
The applause exploded like thunder.
Miro glanced back with a hard look.
Mason waited for them to quiet. Which took a while.
“You may or may not know that I am no career politician.”
The crowd split with laughter and Mason turned to see Elio shaking his head with a grimace on his face.
“Exactly,” Mason said. “But I want to bring up one policy that will be a founding principle in our administration. You may have heard rumors of slavery in the north.” He gestured at Elio. “They are not rumors. Elio was there and barely escaped with his life. I tell you this. Slavery has no place in the Union! Never again will one human be able to own another in these United States! Less than two hundred years ago, that abominable practice tore our country apart. We will not stand for it! We will not let it happen again!”
The crowd went insane, totally unhinged with glee.
Miro looked back and sliced his hand across his neck.
Mason nodded.
“Thank you all for coming! And God bless the United States of America!”
Mason wasn’t positive there was a God to do the blessing. And if there was, he certainly hadn’t been doing a good job of it lately. Then again, he couldn’t deny the simple fact that he was still alive.
His daughter and Elio were alive.
Maria stood in the front row of the crowd. She caught his eyes before he could look away. She pointed at Elio and mouthed the words Thank you.
Mason nodded and Maria started clapping.
Elio took the mic back. “Let’s get the whole family up here!”
The crowd redoubled their applause.
Beth jogged up the ramp and stood next to Mason with her hand at his back. Theresa walked up and slipped an arm around Elio. Iridia walked up holding hands with Noor.
Miro looked back.
Mason nodded him over. “Get up here!”
Miro jogged up and wrapped an arm around both Iridia and Noor.
Beth knelt down and called out.“Buddy! Come on, boy!”
From between a row of chairs, he trotted forward. A wrapped bandage covered most of his head.
She got on her knees and let him lick all over her face.
His tail wagged furiously while he covered her face in slobber. His front half seemed connected by a swivel with the back half as he swung back and forth in excitement.
Mason reached down to pet him.
Buddy’s tongue slathered over every millimeter of Mason’s hand and fingers. “Aren’t dogs’ mouths supposed to be cleaner than human mouths?”
“No, honey. That’s a myth.”
“Are you sure? I’m pretty sure it’s true.”
“Who’s the Veterinary Doctor, you or me?”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“I know I’m right. And FYI, I caught him eating his poop earlier today.”
Mason looked at his hand dripping with slobber. A disgusted grimace twisted his face. “You should’ve told me that a minute ago.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” Beth said with a grin.
“Not yet, but soon maybe.”
Beth arched an eyebrow at him. “Don’t get cocky, Mr. President.”
Mason stuttered.
Those words, addressing him.
It was beyond strange.
Miro appeared at his side. “Hey Sarge, how are you holding up?”
Mason looked up. “I’ll make it. Listen, I think I’m going to need some help.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
Mason clenched Miro’s arm. “How does head of the Presidential Protective Division sound?”
“Is that an official offer?”
“It is if I’m elected.”
“And do you think you’ll be elected?”
Mason shrugged. “Depends if the DA decides to press charges.” He’d turned over Beth’s phone a week ago. After making a copy of the conversation for himself.
The DA’s office had someone leaking information as the DNR ran a front page story the very next day. It included every sordid detail of Cruz and Fowler’s conversation.
Maybe the information would sway the DA to not press charges for the death of Gabriel Cruz, but he wasn’t counting on it. Not after charges had already been brought against Theresa and Elio for the murder of Hector Guyardo.
It scared the life out of him, but at least there would be due process and time to mount a defense. The truth would come out. Witnesses would have a chance to come forward and explain what happened.
Not every witness, though.
Not Police Chief Fowler. He and the other two officers thrown into the Red Zone hadn’t been seen since.
Mason had thought Beth might’ve gone too far, until she told him what Fowler had done. And was about to do.
Let the deltas eat him.
He turned to Miro. “If it goes to trial and I’m convicted of murder one, I doubt folks are going to run out and vote for me.”
Miro laughed. “You’re worried about being a criminal? Have you forgotten our presidents over the last several decades?”
“Good point.”
“Anyway, it was self-defense. We both know that.”
Mason agreed it should play out that way in court if it came to that, but he wasn’t as convinced on a personal level.
“Assuming these people are crazy enough to elect you, I accept. Nobody’s got more experience keeping you alive than I do.”
He wasn’t lying.
“Thanks, pardner.”
“Just doing my job.”
60
FATHER ROBERTS dipped into the blood slowly welling up out of his forearm. It had taken awhile for his fingernail to dig deep enough to get a sufficient amount of blood. He dipped his finger into the sacred ink and painted on the cell wall. He finished the horizontal post and then stepped back to admire the work.
Not admire in a prideful way.
Not admire his own tolerance for pain or skill in painting.
All gifts were from God.
And so appreciating the red cross on the wall was an appreciation of the Lord Almighty.
He got down on his knees and held his hands together in prayer.
“Forgive me, Lord. I have failed You.”
His martyrdom had not gone according to plan. But he realized that, of course, it had.
It was true that it had not gone according to his plan. But all things always went according to His plan. And so his intended martyrdom was Lee’s mistake.
The time hadn’t been right.
“I’ve been prideful, Lord. Thinking that I knew Your mind. Please forgive me. I am Your vessel. Do with me what You will.”
Did God wish for him to perish in a cell in Alcatraz? To waste away until his body failed and he left the mortal world behind to rise up to heaven?
It seemed like a terrible waste, but he would obey if that was his destiny.
“I accept whatever fate you have for me. I ask but one thing. Please, God. Give me a sign so that I may know Your will. Show me the path that I should walk and I will take it to the end.”
“Hey priest, God don’t make house calls here.”
Father Roberts turned to see a guard outside the bars glaring at him with contempt.
“The Lord has no need for house calls. He is everything and everywhere at once.”
“That so?”
Father Roberts nodded.
The guard took out a ring of keys and opened the cell. “So, he’ll show up and stop me from beating you bloody?”
<
br /> “If it is His will.”
The guard pulled a long baton off his hip. “This is what we call a test of empirical evidence.” He raised the baton above Lee’s head. “I’m going to beat you bloody. Or, God will arrive and stop me. Sound good?”
Lee lowered his head. “You will do what you must.” He had been beaten and tortured before. The suffering had brought him closer to the Almighty. He prayed it would do so again.
“Hey,” another voice said from outside the cell. “What are you doing?”
Lee looked up to see another guard enter the cell. He had a white bandage covering his cheek and jaw.
The one with the baton turned in confusion. “Who are you?”
“Your replacement.”
The new guard lunged forward and stabbed a blade into the other’s stomach. He stabbed again and again like a jackhammer.
The baton clattered to the concrete floor and its owner collapsed.
The guard with the knife raised his cap and Lee bore witness to the power of the Lord. He accepted the offered hand and rose to his feet. “Brother Ryan. You are a blessing.”
“Father Roberts, we don’t have much time. The next shift will be here in a few minutes. We have a boat waiting on the far side of the island.”
“Lead the way.”
Brother Ryan nodded and led him out of the cage. The young monk was proving to be a most resourceful person. He’d come so far in so little time.
Lee wondered how far he might one day wish to go. Would he someday decide that Lee needed to be replaced as Father Aemon had been?
“Father, what will we do next?”
“We will do what we always do, and that is to obey the will of God.”
“And what does the Lord want us to do?”
“Wage holy war, Brother.”
THE END OF BOOK 3
The Desperate Fight, book 4 in the Edge of Survival series, is in the works.
Turn the page for a preview of Sole Survivor, book 1 in the Extinction Crisis series. Preview only available for ebook format.
Sole Survivor
Any man whose errors take ten years to correct is quite a man.
— J. Robert Oppenheimer