The Scales

by Paul Sating

Her gut twisted at the loss. Everything she’d worked for was gone and replaced by a single mission. A mission she didn’t ask for or want. No alternatives, no other choices. George told her she still had a choice in the matter, though he said so with great trepidation. But Serenity couldn’t turn her back on her duty—her destiny. If this fell at the feet of someone else, another—what did he call them?—Serenity would hope that person picked it up for the sake of the greater good. Who was she to ignore duty?

  An image of her mother, cold and suffering somewhere dark, filled Serenity’s mind. A hot flood pushing through this haze of worry and acceptance at the vision, real or not. Past selfish concern and the inherent need to help others. She wasn’t looking to stop the Black Suits from harassing and terrorizing the Tri-Counties for another half-century. Hoping to convince the Screecher—if that was even possible—that its life would be better served in the solitude of the desert away from the Tri-Counties, hadn't etched itself on her to-do list.

  No.

  She wanted her family back and the Black Suits and Screecher gone forever.

  And she was going to have it.

  “Serenity,” Patch’s voice invaded her thoughts, “I think you’ve killed it.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “The steering wheel.” Patch pointed. “You’ve been strangling it for the last five miles.”

  She stretched out her fingers, aiming them at the sky. Her knuckles groaned. Her pulse radiated to the tips. “Patch, let me ask you something.” Her voice sounded stronger. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Patch didn’t reply. They drove in silence back to Rotisserie, back to the first stage of failure. The road ebbed and flowed in and out of existence as Serenity thought about her family. Both George and Patch were adamant in their shared belief nothing would happen to them, that the Black Suits needed Jerrod for information and her mother for bait. They swore the Black Suits would get nothing from harming or killing either of them. But she still couldn’t get comfortable with that. The Black Suits had already proven nothing would stop them.

  They wanted the Screecher.

  Serenity would be sure they got it.

  I’ll do what I must for others, because I always do.

  “There was no way to be sure it was you,” Patch said and fell silent. When he spoke again, it was with a longing she’d never heard from him before, as if he wasn’t talking to her. Like he was speaking to…his own family. “I’d do anything to change this.” His voice trembled. “I’ve wracked my brain for near on five decades trying to understand all this, trying to see how we could rid ourselves of it, and I’ll be damned if’n nothing has worked. Ain’t found a single, damn solution. George and I have spent more than a few lifetimes trying to figure out another way. I’m talking about ending the legacy of the Screecher in the most decent way possible. But, as the good Lord is my witness, if’n there was any other way, if I could be the one, I’d do it, Serenity. I’d not be trying to patronize you; I know this isn’t easy and it sure as hell ain’t fair. If’n you change your mind, we’ll understand.”

  She didn’t want that for him any more than she wanted the responsibility herself. “What about George and his people?” she asked, turning onto the highway. A few cars slugged down the expanse of blacktop as if the heat was wearing them out.

  Cars. More than a handful. Out here, so far away from the nothingness of Rotisserie, seeing more than two vehicles at a time was an oddity. The highway running through the Tri-Counties barely had traffic on the busiest of days. Up ahead, cars dotted the road. A short queue was forming, the convection waves making them shimmer and blur into dark blobs.

  “He may be a little rough around the edges, but George is a good man,” Patch said. “He’d understand, and his people would too. Don’t you be worrying. They’re on our side.”

  “Am I a coward for being scared?”

  Patch shook his head. “No, not at all. Plus, anyone not willing to do what you are doing has no right to be judging you.”

  Patch was right. Rotisserie’s first people were readying themselves for war. Serenity’s throat closed with a wave of shame. How dare she think they weren’t just as committed? But this, giving up everything, was hard.

  Two pickup trucks flew past her, one driving too close to the other. Stupid teenage guys trying their best to get themselves killed.

  “Assholes,” she snarled.

  Patch growled. “Something isn’t right. Take the next exit.”

  “Why?”

  “You trust me, right? We need to get to the deputy.” Patch’s tone scared her. “I know a way to the rendezvous point that’ll take us around whatever this is.”

  She followed his directions, and he delivered on his promise. When they pulled up to the spot where they were meeting the deputy, what she saw shocked her. In a good way.

  There was no room to park. Every inch of open pavement was occupied by cars, trucks, or motorcycles, even a few ATVs. Every firm patch of sand held a vehicle. As if that wasn’t encouraging enough, hundreds of people crowded into the wide courtyard and street, making the area look more like a concert than a non-descript building in the middle of a boring town.

  “What’s going on, Patch?”

  “I don’t know,” he said as he climbed out of the car, “But I think it’s good. The deputy will tell us.”

  Finding the deputy was easier said than done. Inside, the tight hallways were as crammed as the street. Every able-bodied person in Rotisserie seemed to be here. People she knew and twenty times more she didn’t lined every inch of wall. Most squatted or sat. Some slept, some played with their phones, but all carried weapons of one sort or another. Pistols and shotguns, mostly, but some held rifles with scopes, the thick kind that looked like only well-trained military should carry. The space was balanced precariously on a taut wire.

  Tears rimmed the corners of her eyes, threatening to make a scene. He’d done it! Deputy Rodgers had built an army in just a few hours! The people of the Tri-Counties had come together to help her family.

  Mitzie was here too. She reached for Serenity’s hand as they passed. “We’re going to do this, sweetie.”

  Serenity was too choked up to respond, so Patch covered for her, asking after the deputy. Mitzie was too focused on Serenity, so a woman squatting next to her, busied with cleaning her pistol, directed them to a room at the back of the building.

  “Let’s go,” Patch tugged her.

  “Goodbye, Mitzie.” Serenity hoped she’d get one more chance to give a better farewell.

  A large room that ran the width of the building held three rows of white tables facing an illuminated projection screen. A dozen people milled around, most talking in hushed but excited tones. Deputy Rodgers hung over a table, a large map spread out before him, and three people listening as he pointed and jabbed at different points.

  He looked their way. “Serenity!”

  “Who are all these people? How did you do it?”

  He looked at her like she was speaking a foreign language, pulling his head backward, his chin disappearing into his neck. “It’s everyone who wants to help. It’s our army.”

  She screamed and hugged him.

  31

  “All these people?” Serenity couldn’t resist turning, taking in those around her.

  “There’s got to be three hundred,” Patch said.

  Deputy Rodgers affirmed Patch’s guess with a beaming grin. “We met first thing. Put the call out before you reached the reservation, most likely. Within an hour the front room was full of angry people, demanding action. Once they understood what was happening, they settled a little. I think I overwhelmed them. Twenty-six dead has a way of motivating others to action. That a government agency is doing some sneaky shit…well, you know what most people around here think about the government. It wasn’t hard to convince them. Fact is, I had to ask them to slow down. They were ready to run out of here before I finished talking. No idea where they thought they were going, but they did
n’t want to sit around either. We used that energy to help spread the word. Had to be careful about being too public, asking them to keep off social media. I think we did well, mostly. It gave people something to do. Even had a few volunteer to reach out to the other towns around the counties, which is what you see out front.”

  “There’s so many.” Encouragement bloomed in her chest. Her heart skipped.

  “Not everyone has made it back yet,” Deputy Rodgers said. “The Tri-Counties is a big area. It could be hours before they’re back. More will come.”

  Panic swam over her at the comment. What was encouraging, the number of bodies filling the civilian army, might be to their detriment. “We can’t wait hours.”

  “We won’t.” Deputy Rodgers turned toward the table. “This is an estimate of what we have. People and weapons. We’re ready if you’re ready to tell us where we’re going.”

  “I am,” Patch said, his jaw set forward in a firm expression.

  “All right,” the deputy shouted, grabbing everyone’s attention, “Everyone out. Essential personnel only. Let’s go, people. MOVE!” The room exploded in noise as personal items and plans were collected. Everyone scrambled out, leaving fifteen behind, five of whom were fellow deputies.

  Once they were alone Rodgers said, “Folks, let’s pipe down. Take notes, ask questions. We’ve got to do this right. We might only get one chance. Patch, the floor is yours.”

  A murmur rose as Patch stepped forward, wringing his hands. Serenity knew what these people were thinking because it was etched in their lingering gazes and whispered comments. With each second, Patch’s discomfort grew, as did his audience’s skepticism. Then he drew his shoulders back. Somehow, he looked younger.

  The group quieted. The deputy slid a table cockeyed and sat on it, using a chair as his footrest, giving Patch the prominent position in the room.

  “Okay,” Patch said. Someone snickered, stopping Patch in mid-rhythm.

  Deputy Rodgers spun; his feet remained planted on the chair. “I’m sorry. Is something funny?’ he said. “We’ve got a family in danger and a bunch of friends and family were killed yesterday. I’d love to know where you’re finding the humor in this.”

  Expressions straightened. A throat cleared. Heads dropped. In the corner of the room, a chair squeaked. After a few tense seconds Rodgers waved to Patch.

  “You were going to make us smarter than some of us think we are. What we need from you are details.” He lifted a notepad and slapped it. “We’ll take the notes, lay out the scene for us. Map it to scale, best you can. Jimmy, you’ve got the board.”

  A deputy who looked young enough to have only been out of school a few years went to the whiteboard. Another clicked something on his laptop to share the image of hundreds of vertical and horizontal lines crisscrossing each other like a giant piece of graph paper projected on the screen.

  “Let’s start with the layout,” Rodgers said. “Where are we going to find them?”

  Patch’s head jerked in surprise, as if he thought it was obvious. “At the Scales, of course.”

  “Patch, that’s not possible,” Deputy Rodgers said.

  “It might sound strange,” Patch said, “But I assure you, if’n you’re looking for the Black Suits, you’ll find them at the Scales.”

  “There’s nothing out there but junk,” a man toward the back of the room protested.

  “Sorry Patch, but they can’t be out there,” Deputy Rodgers said. “There’s not even a trailer. Not a single vehicle. It’s hard to believe. Would have seen them a thousand times by now. They couldn’t go without notice.”

  Patch shook his head. “Not if they didn’t want you to. There're hundreds of piles of junk out there, deputy. Thousands of nooks and burrows. It’s easy to hide out there if’n you don’t want to be found. Trust me, they’re there, and they’d be watching us at the rescue. That doesn’t change that if we want to find them, we’ll be needing to do that back there.”

  “So, this secret government agency has magic now,” an older man scoffed, drawing a few cynical laughs.

  Deputy Rodgers lunged to his feet. “Fine boys,” he said, his voice coarse. “If you want to do it that way, we can all leave now. Head home to your terrorized families. If you do, you’ll get back in time for dinner with enough time to tell your neighbor you’re sorry their loved one was killed, but you just had to act childish and disregard a man who knows more about this than the rest of us combined. I trust Patch. Give him a fair chance and you will too, or get out if this is nothing but a joke to you.” He paused as a blanket of reticence fell over the room. Not even a chair creaked.

  Serenity held back a grin as Deputy Rodgers waited, his arms folded across his chest. No one rose to the challenge or had the courage to defend themselves or get up and leave. A group of older men crowding a corner of a long table shifted glances amongst themselves, waiting for another to speak up. A thin woman, wisps of grey hair interrupting a head of buttery blond, found something interesting in the tabletop to trace with her fingers. A younger, thin man bit his top lip. None met the deputy’s eyes. None were couth enough to apologize either, but that didn’t mean Rodgers would let them off lightly. After what seemed like ten minutes but was closer to one, he nodded to Patch and took his seat on the edge of the table, arms still folded. Eyes watching.

  “They’re at the Scales.” Patch started slowly. “Operate out of there. Have for decades. They don’t want you to see anything, so they buried it. Everything.”

  “Buried it?”

  “Yep, under the sand. Two ways to get in. They’ve burrowed a tunnel under the desert to a spot where they park vehicles and the such. Can’t drive to it, they’d spot us. And too long for us to walk without being noticed. But there’s also a shaft, like an elevator shaft just without the elevator. Takes ‘em from the surface to their operating center. And it’s right in the middle of all that scrap metal. Large complex if’n I’m being honest, but that’s where they survey the Tri-Counties, keeping track of folks. It’s also where they track the Screecher, so they can capture it again.”

  Deputy Rodgers’ eyes narrowed. “A command post? Under ground? Patch, what are we dealing with here? I mean, really dealing with? I’ve got hundreds of civilians I’m about to put in harm’s way and no clue what I’m sending them into. The more I hear from you, the more worried I am about our prospects of getting out of this without more injuries.”

  Please, please don’t back out. Sweat beaded on Serenity’s forehead. The deputy was the key to this massive posse joining the fight. Without his agreement, she had no hope of getting her mother and brother away from the Black Suits so she could deal with the Screecher if it came.

  Patch ran a hand over his uneven beard. “I ain’t no military man, deputy.”

  “True, but tell us what you know about this underground command post. Let’s start there.”

  “There’s a structure called the Colossus by us old timers. It’s the twisted beam that shoots twenty feet in the air, looked like the twisted trunk of a tree. Some of the oldest scrap out there, so it’s tucked away, deep in the yard, surrounded by piles of junk. Hard to find if’n you ain’t looking for it.”

  “I know which one you’re talking about,” Serenity said, excited to contribute. “It’s behind one of the larger dunes, off in the back corner.”

  “That’s the one,” Patch said. “Except that’s no ordinary stump of metal. It’s a girder from the old metalworks plant. A lot of that junk out there is. But that one is part of the plant when they expanded. Was an elevator shaft near there, took you underneath the massive addition.” Patch paused for a bitter laugh. “Never got to work in that new area of the plant. No one did. For the longest time we wasn’t sure the owners hadn’t lost their minds, spending a small country's wealth to construct this massive building, sinking it into the sand for no apparent reason. Some men said it was a bunker, in case the Soviets took it to mind to finish what they’d tried at the end of the war. Others thought it
was a secret warplane hangar. Looked like one and, back then, there was a lot of rumors about the good old US of A having UFOs in their arsenal.”

  “Except it wasn’t for UFOs or airplanes, was it?” Serenity asked.

  “Not at all,” Patch said. “Had no idea what it was for. Worked there for years not ever seeing that place for more than a few minutes when I had to make a delivery to the crew building it. That was the case for most of us. Never saw it until the experiments started.”

  “Experiments?” a deputy asked.

  “We don’t have time for the entire story.” Deputy Rodgers stood and faced his cadre. “So let me give you the run-down.” He relayed necessary details about Patch’s experience at the plant.

  “The addition to the plant was built for them and their experiments.” Patch paused, taking in everyone in the room. “It was built for the Screecher.”

  “For that monster?” Rodgers’ eyes grew large.

  Patch’s eyes focused on something beyond the room. The question led him back to the most traumatic period of his life. She wanted to hug him.

  “They’d caught the Screecher somehow. Ain’t sure how, but they did. All I know is that it was there, in that expanded section of the plant. Most of that new part you could see above ground was just a large, empty space, ‘cept for the walkways that ringed it. Reached maybe a hundred, hundred and fifty feet into the air and went at least that far below the ground. A massive pit. I don’t remember every specific about it, only saw it the few times they brought us in. Wasn’t drugged up enough to not remember the enormity of the place. Lots of equipment hanging from the rafters; some of ‘em looked like harnesses, ropes, robotic stuff, like it was out of a darn science fiction movie. This was only a few years after the war and was stuff of books and comics. Wan’t none of us Tri-County people thinking about robotics and things like that. It was nothing more than a large testing facility. They’d been testing on that thing much as they were testing on us,” Patch said matter-of-factly.

  “Why didn’t they just kill the damn thing when they had it?” a middle-aged woman, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, asked firmly.