by Angela White
“Send for our council,” Robert ordered. Since the war and being ostracized here, word of mouth was the only reliable communication. Even writing letters and notes had become things of the past. Paper was too easily ruined or stolen. What was in a man’s mind was harder to get to.
Robert gently shut the door for a quick moment of peace and quiet in which to reflect and make his choices. Leading the outcasts hadn’t been easy since the war, and Robert didn’t lack for courage, but Alexa and her men were killers and he wouldn’t forget that.
Robert knelt in the center of the room and bowed his head in prayer. “Oh Lord, hear my pitiful pleas and have mercy on my people.” Robert’s voice roughened with emotion. “There are so few of us left, but we still believe!”
A door opened behind him, but Robert didn’t hear it. He was in that place where he was sure is God was listening intently to every syllable and every tone, searching him for the worthiness that all helpless cases must carry.
“Please, don’t let them be hurt. Take them under your wing and remove them from the path of these stranger’s and their guns. Let them live in peace and continue in your light.”
Robert felt a tear roll down his cheek at the silence. “Amen.”
He stayed where he was for another minute, getting himself under control. His people expected a leader and he would give that to them. He would hand this fight over to Alexa and hope it was the correct choice.
Robert stood up slowly, feeling his fifty-eight years more so now than he had in a while. The feeling of a bad storm coming was unmistakable in his joints and sinuses.
“Does he answer you?”
Robert turned too quickly and lost his balance. He sprawled at Roscoe’s boots, moaning heavily.
Soft, menacing laughter flowed through the dim, dusty hall.
“Easy, old man.”
Robert cringed away from the hand that would have helped him, instead rising one his own. “Be gone, Satan!”
Roscoe chuckled. “I’m nowhere near such perfection as that.”
“Only my God is perfect!”
Roscoe pointed a hand at Robert’s arm and the man moaned in pain again.
“Be careful of your words,” Roscoe warned, staring down in vague contempt. “Or I’ll kill them all the second she’s gone.”
Robert shut his lids. “Please, Lord. Please. I believe!”
When he opened his eyes, Roscoe was gone and the sound of voices came down the hall and through the open door.
Robert shoved himself up awkwardly. Alexa was their only hope, their one chance to be free, and he was taking it no matter what the others here wanted. It hadn’t taken an eternity in hell to break Robert. A world war, an insane Mayor, and four years had done irreversible damage.
4
The outcasts wore hand-sewn clothes and old shoes that had been stuffed with papers and wrapped with tape of every kind. It was obvious to Alexa that the stores in each zone were off-limits to those from the other sides. The faded neon of Emmerson’s shoes lead the way through stacks of corroded cars and trucks that would never meet the shredder they had been intended for.
The main junkyard building was where Emmerson led her and Alexa motioned to Mark to be careful of the sharp, rusted metal edges that would encourage infections in even the smallest injuries.
They went down into the basement of the junkyard warehouse and then down another flight of stairs to a tunnel lined in stones and torches. At the end of it was a wooden door with deep gouges that said the wolves came this far into the city.
The earthen walls and floor of the single room had been covered in wood and sheet metal scavenged from the dead city above. In the center was the black and yellow hood of a car on a large crate. There were four people of mixed race sitting on the floor around the makeshift table, and they stared with the desperation that Mark and his mistress had expected.
Alexa didn’t waste any time, taking the only empty seat as Mark leaned against the door. She looked to Robert. “Tell me what happened here and why I’m being haunted to kill your leader.”
Robert’s face clouded over. “He stopped being our leader long ago.”
“Tell me,” Alexa insisted. “Leave nothing out.”
Mark considered himself ready to handle about any story that was told, keeping one eye on Alexa and the other on their company.
“After the war, Roscoe was the Mayor here,” Robert told them. “He and his family were in charge here and he tried to do right by us. He had the gates erected, put out guards and curfews, and interviewed anyone who came in. He and his men were forced to kill rovers who wanted to take over the town, and for a while, we had a semblance of peace.”
Robert broke off in a fit of coughing and those closest hurried to comfort him.
“It was during that time Roscoe split the races,” Emerson took over the tale. “The infighting and gangs already here were taking their toll, always robbing, raping, killing to get to the few stashes of food left. Roscoe grew tired of it and arranged a radio broadcast. He gave orders to divide the city in half, black on one side, whites on the other. He promised to send a fair share of all supplies each month to both sides of the line.” The messenger handed back to Robert, who’d caught enough breath to resume.
“It had to be expanded shortly after that. Roscoe hadn’t counted on the other races wanting an area, or those who had family on both sides being kicked out by their own kind. The blacks didn’t want white sympathizers and spies on their side of the tape. The whites threatened to shoot any blacks found on their side. After a bit, Roscoe declared an outcasts area where everyone else could go, but when he wanted to give them a supply cut too, both the white and black sides protested until he was forced to give up that idea.”
“It’s when he started changing,” Avery said sadly from the place of honor at the dirty stone table. “Then HE came.”
Robert frowned. “Hush now. You’re going out of order.”
Avery fell silent and Robert looked to Alexa. “There was a vote to kick those people out of the city. Everyone saw what the desperate survivors did after the war-the open murder, the violent thefts, the kidnappings-but Roscoe stepped to the front of the crowd and begged for their lives. He said he would build a security system here that nothing could get through. He promised us we’d be safe.”
“And you believed him,” Alexa finished that part of the story, thinking they’d at least had a good man in charge in the beginning. Most towns and cities had fallen within a month or less. Lincoln had survived much longer.
“Of course. We were those desperate people,” Robert confided without shame in his tone or on his face. “He forgave us, let us stay. How could we not believe?”
The feel of fanaticism filled the room and Alexa grunted, “Finish your story.”
Robert took up where he’d left off, not showing signs that the order bothered him, but Alexa knew it had.
“Three months after the war, a small group of survivors were let in. Among them was a woman with a purple stripe in her hair and a man who had the feel of trouble, though he said the right things. Your prisoner. Roscoe found out these two had come from the west, a direction we never heard from, and he took them into his home. Once there, the man became fast friends with Roscoe’s daughter.”
Mark knew what would come next and steeled himself against it, hating his own kind. Why couldn’t men have been born differently? Why did they always have to take what they shouldn’t have?
“He stole Roscoe’s only daughter from her room and took her from the city. When her body was found, she’d been abused and strangled. The man was gone.”
“And the purple-haired woman?” Mark asked.
“She escaped, though we heard she’d been shot and died. We hunted the entire city for her,” Robert stated angrily.
“It was dark days,” Avery agreed. “The nights grew and the days shrank. Our leader, in his grief, no longer met new arrivals or cleared them. The gates were left to wanderers who were as ba
d as the man who’d taken his child. We demanded protection, safety, and when he finally raised himself to listen, he gave us damnation instead.”
“He blames you,” Alexa guessed. “Because those people would have been put here, with the outcasts, if he hadn’t taken an interest in them.”
Robert nodded. “Yes and there was nothing for us after that but vengeance. The passing ceremony was made a law and the limit on children came next. The food dwindled to near nothing and when strangers wandered in, the guards stayed with Roscoe, in the town hall.”
Robert had another coughing spell and Emmerson picked up the tale again. “We tried to leave after the fire, but it was too late. He owns us.”
Alexa was glad to be through the recap, but those details had connected several pieces for Mark and confirmed some for her. “And you believe now that if he dies, you’ll be free?”
Robert shook his head gravely. “We are damned. We would save the future.”
Alexa rose at those words, satisfied. “As would I. You have a blessing for me, I think?”
Robert allowed the others to help him up and he chanted lowly while pulling a long knife with a golden handle from beneath his robe.
“It has no mercy. Pick your targets well.”
“I always do,” she answered evenly.
Alexa slid the knife into her main belt, moving her k-bar to the rear. “We’ll go now. Unless there’s anything else we should see or hear?”
“You should go quickly,” Robert confirmed. “Another ceremony is taking place tonight. You don’t want to be discovered by Roscoe or his men.”
Alexa agreed, though not for the same reasons. She wasn’t afraid, but she did want to keep the element of surprise as long as she could.
Mark and Alexa slipped out the back door without protesting, and they could feel the relief when the cellar shut and the lock turned. The entire town was frightened.
It also stank. Pigs, the new world’s excess food, were used in all three zones, but again, not on Roscoe’s road. The rest of the residents were lined in pens and reeked of swine shit.
Alexa was extremely offended on their behalf.
5
Alexa stopped them near a line of bushes and Mark knew what she intended to do before she did it. It enabled him to be with her when she vanished behind the trees lining the bushes. No one noticed that he could tell and Mark kept his eyes on their rear as Alexa stayed facing the front of the street. They’d been on this signless road after leaving the black side of the city but Alexa clearly wanted an unscripted view of what went on here.
The water rushing alongside the outcast zone was dark and held any number of deadly toxins, including fish. The people here appeared to avoid the water, but from the damage and waterlines on buildings, Alexa was sure it was a battle that Roscoe had hoped would eliminate them. A flooded area was a place where accidents could happen, and then be overlooked.
Mark wasn’t sure what was coming, but he was fine with waiting for it. It was rare for her to have only one fighter with her and the convict savored the moment.
Alexa crouched down lower as voices came from the west of them and Mark did the same, hoping his big shoulders would blend in.
The voices grew loud enough to be recognized as low singing and humming, and the two hidden fighters stayed still and silent as the small crowd came by. Near fifty townspeople were walking sedately toward the front gates of the city, some black, some white, some both, Mark noticed.
The five people in front of this small crowd were older and dressed in long white robes that both fighters recognized, though Mark didn’t make the final, gruesome connection yet. He saw the other people were also dressed up and realized this was a ceremony of some sort.
The singing and humming continued as the group went on and it was still audible even after they were out of sight. Slightly eerie but mostly sad, Mark thought he liked the tune a bit and tried to remember it for later.
Alexa rose and stayed to the tree line as she followed the group. She kept far enough back to avoid being seen by anyone in the parade, but the other residents that she passed gawked at seeing her moving down the street. Alexa didn’t warn them to silence or rush ahead, only concentrating on the group, and Mark understood she believed that’s where she thought the threat would come from.
Alexa spent a minute lingering in the shadows of the alley by the long abandoned bakery and the pair observed the group as it halted at the front gates of the city.
Roscoe appeared in front of the group, carrying a small stack of books under one arm and a lantern in the other. His words didn’t carry to them however, and Alexa crept closer. She had suspicions to confirm.
The gates opened and from the corn beyond the garbage field, a harrowed hag floated toward them, wide and angry red eyes glowing brightly.
The five elderly people were upset by whatever was going on, and Alexa forced herself to stay put as Roscoe shoved the last woman outside the gate. His face was a blurry leer from this distance and Mark wasn’t surprised when Alexa crept closer.
The gates clanged closed as the hag reached the garbage field and the five people cowering along it screamed for mercy, to be let in. Alexa and Mark recognized Avery, then Zachariah and Porter.
The hag didn’t attack them like was expected. She extended a long arm toward the corn and after a minute of useless pleading, all five elderly sacrifices began the long trek.
The hag floated behind them, herding, and the townspeople watching from the gate cried silently at the loss of their loved ones. The others were already drifting away, eager to forget that the same fate waited for them in a few years.
Alexa didn’t wait for the smaller crowd to dissipate completely. She took the middle of the street straight to the gate and shoved it open with a furious glare at the single sentry who stepped forward to stop her. Roscoe had already gone and the guard looked around for him before shrugging, and stepping back. “It’s your funeral with the hag awake.”
Alexa spit at his boots and left the protection of the city with Mark’s clenched fists right behind her.
The sentry quickly closed the gate and then went to tell Roscoe that the rules had been broken.
6
Alexa and Mark had to run. Despite the people dragging their feet, the specter had them a clear mile from the city before Alexa caught up.
Mark expected her to attack, to rescue the people, but Alexa shook her head. “No.”
Mark frowned, not sure how he felt about watching whatever the hag had planned for the older folks, but in the end, he had no time to answer the thoughts.
The specter screeched, coming to a stop, and the area flooded with activity. Undead, all dressed in the same flowing white robes, ran toward the five people with hungry growls of eager delight.
Mark turned his head, unable to watch, but Alexa refused to look away. She’d chosen not to save them, not to give away her advantage yet, and it was only fair that she had to wake screaming later from the view.
The transformation from live to undead was ugly. After being bitten repeatedly and dying screaming, the five people were then revived by the hag. She pointed at several small beetles on the ground and those bugs then crawled up the bodies and scurried inside their mouths. A few seconds later, the corpses began to twitch, bones cracking, shitting, pissing, farting-all the humiliating sounds and actions that only a medical professional used to hear. It was another insult to the betrayal that had already been done to them.
Alexa gestured to Mark, and the pair eased out of the area, neither of them waiting to see the people wake and start the hunt for flesh. What they’d already seen was too much.
“What happens to the kids,” Mark asked emotionally. “I mean we know one was just taken. Maybe we could…”
Alexa silenced him with a hard look, but it hurt her to do it. “If I thought there was time, we would have followed that lead instead of this one. Their transformation is too quick. If we can’t kill the source, we don’t pick the fig
ht.”
Mark wasn’t sure how she knew that, but didn’t argue. He didn’t like the feeling of her displeasure, but more than that, if he couldn’t help them, he didn’t want to know about it. The guilt was simply too heavy to carry on this quest.
“Yes, it is,” Alexa confirmed, leading them back to the city. “We’ve really only just begun.”
7
Alexa and Mark dropped back into the fencing that surrounded the warehouse, and the area lit up with men holding torches.
Alexa put a hand on Mark’s arm as Roscoe came through the glaring guards. “Not yet.”
What they’d seen and heard tonight had sent rage into both their hearts. They wanted Roscoe dead and it almost hurt to wait while he stepped forward.
“I see you took a walk,” Roscoe observed. “And did some visiting. How nice.”
Alexa waited, arms hanging loosely.
Roscoe frowned lightly. “I suppose they’ve convinced you. Seeing all that poverty and dejection would be enough to sway anyone, right?” Roscoe barked a laugh. “Does my side of it matter to you?”
“I’m listening,” Alexa said evenly. “Explain the missing kids and the elderly who sacrifice themselves as food for the monsters in the corn.”
Roscoe winced, but didn’t back down. “It’s the price we pay to keep our city,” he stated gravely. “I don’t like it any more than they do.”
“Why would you ever agree to such a thing?” Mark demanded. “What kind of a Mayor are you?”
“Dad?” Young Roscoe came through the crowd, eyes glassy. “Is everything okay?”
Roscoe looked at Alexa with abject terror. “Not a Mayor anymore, only a father.”
Alexa got the hint and put another piece together. Whatever trance Young Roscoe was in was holding his father hostage to the whims of the master of the house in the corn,
Mark grunted angrily as he put it together too. He scowled at young Roscoe, but the boy didn’t seem to notice.
“Dad?”
Roscoe put an arm around his son’s shoulders, again ignoring the flinch. “It’s fine. The new people went for a walk. We were about to go searching for them, but they’re here now.”