by Angela White
“Maybe,” Edward agreed, though he didn’t believe that. There were rockers on these porches, but they were covered in cobwebs and while the gardens were growing, they had the look of sparse care. Elderly populations usually took care of gardens and rocking chairs in ways that these hadn’t experienced in a long time. Edward was sure if he sat in any of those chairs, they would give. “Nice show we’re getting.”
Alexa heard him, but didn’t comment. There was a lot going on in Lincoln and she wanted all of it. Her men would pick up much of it and she would put the rest together to come up with an answer. She would have it shortly after meeting their leader and deciding his fate. Unfortunately, she’d already discovered too much to simply shoot Roscoe and be on her way. He’d either put this city together or kept it together during the collapse. That type of person was rare. And maybe even special. Descendants had their own ways of doing things, including gathering dangerous objects to keep them out of the hands of others. If that were the case, than Roscoe could still be in charge here when they left. As for the segregation her men were having trouble with, Alexa thought it was a tolerable idea for so large of a city without a police force. In time, the race lines could blur on their own, like they always did. Letting people live with their own kind often made them more grateful for other places to go. Surviving with family was rough no matter who you were.
None of the people were armed and no one spoke to them. The silent staring was a bit unnerving and all of the travelers were glad when the chain-link fence around the warehouse came into view. The number of people in the lavish homes on each side of the street had only increased the further they got into the city, though it was clearly the less respected folks who lived this close to a holding area for new people. The travelers could tell the difference in the gaunt bodies and absence of gardens. It looked as though they weren’t given as much as those closer to the center of the street, where large homes rose into the sky. The mini-mansions had belonged to politicians before the war and still did now, Alexa guessed. One of them would belong to Roscoe, and the other two were likely his second and third in command’s living quarters. She didn’t care for a leader who set himself so far above his people, but she was willing to bet that too was intentional. She was detecting things that reminded her of clever, careful leadership and she motioned Edward and Mark to open the fence while she stood still and searched for more clues as to what they were heading into.
A painted sign, and then three more lined up next to it, grabbed their attention.
Be in by dusk. Gates shut at dark.
Respect the zones. Stay with your own.
All ages must be reported to the Lincoln Council.
Theft from gardens or livestock pens earns a grave.
Alexa saw no sentry posts, no way to control an unruly mob, and assumed Roscoe didn’t feel the need for any. If he were wrong, she would make him sorry he hadn’t done it. She and her men could turn this street into a gallery in seconds.
The Bayer warehouse was lined in a reinforced chain-link fence with barbed wire on the top that had been bent down from years of bad weather and no maintenance. He door was open, showing a main room that was dusty and devoid of everything except for a few cots and barrels to be used as chairs.
Alexa directed the travelers into the building, animals and wagons through the loading doors, and the group settled down gratefully. They’d made it to Lincoln. They were here.
Alexa’s men cleared the rest of their lodgings, sharing deep frowns. Other than dust and basic provisions, the warehouse was a huge, completely empty set of rooms. The impression of a holding cell became stronger.
Alexa put two men on watch and sat down near the center of the room to roll a smoke. The others would relax, maybe even sleep a little, but she would stay alert and be ready when Roscoe came. She wanted no more surprises.
3
“Hi, I’m Roscoe.”
Alexa and everyone else stared at the boy in the doorway, shocked. He was short, thin, and dressed like a dandy in a flowing blue robe over a once expensive suit.
“Welcome to Lincoln.”
Alexa advanced toward him slowly, studying. There was intelligence in that somber blue gaze, but not the type to have done everything they’d seen.
“Where’s your father?” she guessed.
The boy’s smile brightened. “In his place, of course. Come along now.”
Alexa’s men strode to her side, but the other travelers stayed where they were, even the mapmaker, who’d realized he’d lost his reward and didn’t care so long as the thief was punished. The travelers had agreed it was safer to let Alexa meet Roscoe alone and miss any shooting that might occur. The wagon drivers, who’d made this stop once before, said they hadn’t dealt with Roscoe directly and they also stayed behind.
Edward carried the thief over one shoulder, and kept watch on Paul, who had insisted on going to any leadership meetings that happened here. Alexa hadn’t refused and none of her men could think of a good enough reason to deny the scientist. In fact, it was a good idea if they were leaving him here. The sooner he met the town and vice versa, the better. Brian had also wanted to go along, but Alexa had denied him. She wasn’t going to deliver all three packages at once.
Alexa followed young Roscoe from the warehouse and out into the small crowd that lined the street. There was surprise and outrage when they recognized the bound, struggling thief over Edward’s broad shoulders, but no one interfered.
Alexa’s men exchanged wary glances and surrounded their mistress with their bodies in case the crowd grew hostile. A few dozen wasn’t a match for them, but it would mean risking Alexa and Paul, two lives they were sworn to protect.
“It’s her!” a whispered call came to their right. “Safe Haven!”
The whisper spread through the crowd like a disease, lighting up faces in abject hatred and misery.
Alexa wasn’t confused on the reaction, only about the cause, and she took her hands away from the butts of her gun. “Easy, Eagles.”
Her men followed her lead as much as their own instincts would allow, but each of them was ready to draw, even Edward with his two charges to care for.
Paul, feeling the unrest, moved closer to Alexa so that Edward could do the same. On his shoulder, the thief had stopped struggling and was now instead, banging his head repeatedly against Edward’s hip.
The horseman delivered a jolting shake to end the bad behavior and then continued on his way.
Young Roscoe stopped outside the Lincoln State building and gave Alexa that same fake smile. “He’s waiting for you.”
Alexa didn’t hesitate, but when her hand revisited her guns, the fighters understood they weren’t to trust young Roscoe. Alexa felt like it might be an ambush and she didn’t need to say that. All of them expected to discover soldiers filling the hallways as Alexa opened the wide front doors.
The hall was dark and cold, and Alexa’s men stayed close to her as their eyes adjusted and the door shut behind them.
Like any other former State building, Lincoln’s was marble, brick, and metal, all combined to create an atmosphere of tension that lingered even now. On the walls, paintings remained, along with notices not to smoke and court docket copies for families and lawyers. It looked recent, wrong despite everything being in its place.
“This way,” young Roscoe chanted. He led them toward a faint yellow light.
Alexa stopped and waited for her men to be set. Her own orbs had adjusted immediately to reveal dark, dusty halls, stacks of books, and no people in sight.
Jacob, usually last on this point, called, “I’m good.”
It was a weakness that he was always trying to conquer by using his long distance sight at night while they were camped. He wasn’t sure if it would help, but he figured there was little harm in picking out small, far away objects.
Jacob caught a glimpse of shadows moving under a tall door in front of them and felt his nerves coil into tight wires.
Young Roscoe pushed the doo
r open and held it for them. “To the right.”
Alexa went first, and moved aside to allow her men through. She didn’t sense a serious threat now, but it was how she trained them, by example.
Once they were all inside, she allowed their guide to hold a second door that led into a long, rectangular room with three men standing at the far end of a wide old desk that David guessed weighed as much as any nag he’d ever shod.
“Welcome! Welcome to Lincoln!”
The greeting was sent with eagerness and affection that surprised Alexa’s men. Three heavily robed males, one black and two white, long, graying beards, were not what they’d expected. Nor had they thought to discover canes and slow, old feet. There was no threat here.
Alexa allowed the older men to touch her hands, to chatter at her in surprise. It wasn’t rare for her kind to be recognized, but Alexa thought maybe these men had been hoping for someone like her as well. It was in their careful, respectful words, and loving caresses.
Paul wanted the same adoration, but before he could speak, Billy shoved a gag in his mouth and grabbed his hands so that David could secure it. When they let go of him, Paul started to rip if off and was stopped when Billy raised a big fist.
The Rabbit lowered his arm, glaring furiously.
“All set, Boss,” Billy called cheerfully.
Alexa studied the council as her men took up guarding posts around the large room. Through the windows, the fighters could see what they all assumed was the black side of the city by the line of dark flags flapping in the wind. It reminded Edward of his first sight of Alexa.
“Stop,” Young Roscoe ordered, pushing his way through the trio. “Let her sit down.”
Alexa was ushered to the table and given a wooden goblet filled with a cool red liquid, which she drank without stopping until it was gone.
Alexa let out a loud belch that drew impressed chuckles from the trio and eye rolls from her men. Those they met never respected how much she could drink until they were losing consciousness. She had a bottomless pit instead of guts.
When they were all seat except her men, young Roscoe proceeded toward the door. “I’ll be back with father.”
He chuckled mirthlessly as he shut the door, leaving an awkward silence where Alexa’s fighters understood this was indeed some sort of trap.
Alexa made a sharp gesture. “Tell me and do it quickly.”
The trio was relieved and whispered in low bursts of guilty outrage.
“He has to be stopped!”
“He’s insane, no question.”
“We need your help.”
Alexa held up a hand. “Tell me who you are.”
“We’re his counsel from each of the city zones,” the black man answered. “I’m Zachariah. This is too-tall Porter, from the white side, and Avery James from the outcasts.”
“Outcasts?” Alexa asked as if she hadn’t known. “We were only told of the white and black zones.”
“Those who have mixed families or refuse to pick a side live beyond the race line,” Zachariah explained. “And they suffer without help from anyone.”
“They’re nomads in their own city,” Avery protested wearily. The tiredness in his voice suggested he’d said as much too many times to believe it would ever change.
“Most of the children come from the outcasts.”
Alexa motioned Edward toward the door. “Start from the beginning.”
Edward knew she didn’t want anyone to interrupt them and he clicked the lock quietly before placing his back against the peeling paint. He scanned the gagged, sulking scientist and bound, unconscious thief in satisfaction as he listened to the conversation.
“After the war, Roscoe was Mayor here. He tried to protect everyone at first, but the rioting was so bad! He lost control and the war in the city began. Most people fled during that time,” Zachariah said, wheezing.
Porter picked up the tale. “Those who stayed hid from each other, but Roscoe wanted all of the killing to stop. When he realized we were already segregating ourselves, he suggested we draw up zones and stick to them to keep peace.”
“It worked, for the most part, “Zachariah stated sadly. “But then the corn began coming for our children and Roscoe makes deals with the dead!”
“The corn?” Alexa asked.
“The master of the corn,” Zachariah breathed.
“A demon,” Porter insisted lowly. “Tell her the rest and be done. He’ll be here soon!”
Avery leaned forward until he was almost resting on the table. “We need your help. Please save us!”
Alexa waited for more, but footfalls outside the door stilled their tongues and sent anguish over their faces. Alexa recognized their terror, and turned to view the door as she gestured for Edward to unlock it.
They all tensed as the door swung open.
Young Roscoe was first, followed by a hulking man that caused Alexa’s fighters to advance quickly. They formed a line of glowering flesh between her and the big man.
When the hulk only slid to the side, they understood he was security for the short, balding guy who stepped into the room last.
Roscoe Sr. beamed at his guests, a blue eye roving over their gear, while the brown one lay dead in its socket. “Welcome to Lincoln my friends. Have they hired you to kill me yet?”
Silence and furiously flushed faces filled the room and Roscoe laughed while his son cringed away from the arm he tried to throw over the teenager’s shoulder.
The father seemed not to notice the slight and strode lively to where Alexa now stood, waiting for him.
Roscoe didn’t seem curious about the gagged man in the corner, but his gaze went over the thief with recognition and retribution.
He extended a hand, moving by her fighters without fear and Alexa met his hand in a firm shake that told both of them more than they’d asked for.
Alexa felt need and hunger run up her spine. Roscoe felt a shudder of fear, of coming closure, and swallowed it to grin again. “Please, sit. Let’s talk about the delivery you’ve made and where Merrik is. After that, we’ll discuss my counter offer.”
Roscoe settled Alexa into her chair and turned to glower at the three cowering representatives. “You have a ceremony to prepare for, do you not?”
All three of the men fled the room in terror and hatred. The waves were unmistakable and all of Alexa’s men wondered why Roscoe let them live at all when they clearly wanted him gone.
Roscoe stared at her and Alexa stared back, marking his knowing eye and his confident posture, but also the erratic tick in his jaw and the knuckle grip under the table that he thought was out of her view. He was nervous about her being here. He knew she could do the job if she chose to take it. He was dangerous.
“So, here we are.” Roscoe observed the thief snoozing uncomfortably on the small futon frame. “I see the first of three and I’m grateful to you for bringing these things where Merrik failed.”
The thief was unconscious, but Alexa could feel Roscoe’s loathing, his need to spill blood. The thief would be shot the second she was out of the room.
Roscoe turned to her. “And where is the missing Merrik?”
“Dead,” Alexa answered promptly. “The corn.”
“And the messages? The boy?”
Roscoe didn’t act as if he cared, but Alexa saw the anger behind the blind casualness.
“In the warehouse, as I’m sure you already know,” Alexa said coolly. “I’ll have my rewards and be on my way. You and yours will not lure me into delaying here and protecting your city from monsters in the corn.”
Roscoe did pause this time, clearly confused, before he covered himself with more questions.
“Are you sure we can’t convince you to stay? The outcasts of your group would even be considered for inclusion on my street if you and your…fighters will protect us.”
Alexa knew snow when it was blowing over her and she played along. Better to have an enemy think you too stupid to know when you were being mocked. �
��Maybe we could, if the price were right.”
Roscoe both glowed and paled at the same time, and Alexa leaned forward. “The others can’t afford us, but you can, Mayor. What are we worth to you?”
Roscoe frowned slightly, back peddling a bit. “I’d have to clear it with the council of course. We have voting here, but there’s no reason why we…”
“I want my reward,” Alexa stated again, this time angrily. “Now.”
Roscoe nodded, leaning away from her as his big guard moved a few paces closer. “Fine, fine. We’ll come by in the morning to collect the papers and boy, and pay you. Happy now?”
“Yes.” Alexa flashed a calming facade. “Long trip here.”
Roscoe beamed again, giving that sickeningly fake smile that made Alexa long to shoot him in the throat.
“Good. Maybe we’ll convince you in the meantime.”
“Both sides are trying to hire me and I haven’t even evaluated the layout, the security, or expressed a single ounce of eagerness to get involved here,” she pointed out.
Roscoe lowered his voice into a tone that was meant to be charming and came off as creepy. “Tours are dangerous here if you’re on the wrong side of the line.”
“Don’t want a tour, only my money,” Alexa insisted evenly.
Roscoe, tiring of the charade, stood up. “I’ll have it brought to you.”
Alexa waved toward the thief and Edward immediately collected the groaning man who was waking from the light clip that had knocked him out.
“Wait!” Roscoe protested.” What are you doing?”
“We’ll hold him until we’re paid,” Alexa explained coolly. “Just to keep you honest.”
Roscoe had little choice but to step aside as she moved toward the door, hand on her gun.
“We’ll be waiting for you,” Alexa said, letting her men go first. “Come afternoon, we’ll bury the bodies and burn the papers on our way out.”
Roscoe stopped at that, scowling, and Alexa gently shut the door in his face.
As they jogged down the stairs of the Lincoln building, Paul tore the gag from his mouth and threw it at Billy. “Asshole.”