“Where is your honor?” he said for the third time. The old man battled against the rugged terrain as it tried to tip him off-balance. As he walked, the waves lapped ashore and chased after him. A fierce gust of wind made the hairs on his mustache dance at the tips.
“Her death was fair.” Goldman said. He finally caught up with the crowd gathered in the center of the beach. He pointed at the water, then addressed Manny as well as the other three haunted-looking officers on the platform. “It was a duel. Anything goes, isn’t that right?”
Manny was still staring out to sea. Very slowly, he tore his eyes off the water and his body turned towards Goldman. Some of the invaders had by now turned their guns on the old American soldier who’d appeared out of nowhere. There was a look of uncertainty in their eyes.
They were waiting for the order to shoot.
One of the female officers, a poker-faced woman with dark brown skin, yelled something from the platform. Manny spun around and quickly raised a hand. He responded to the officer with an impassioned outburst, one that was directed towards all the officers and the grunts too. His voice was fierce, at odds with the gentle soul that Eda had come to know.
The grunts lowered their guns and backed off a few paces.
Eda felt like she could breath again.
“A deal’s a deal,” Goldman said. He went over and stood in front of the downed Eda, his outraged expression daring anyone to point their gun at her again.
Goldman looked at Manny. “Right? A deal’s a deal?”
Manny’s eyes had drifted out to sea again.
“You kill this girl and your word means nothing,” Goldman said. He coughed into the back of his hand. “If your word means nothing, then nobody will ever take you seriously again.”
“Help me up,” Eda said.
With Goldman’s help, Eda climbed back to her feet. She got up slowly, leaning on Goldman’s shoulder for support once she was back on two legs. Dead Island was still spinning like a bad dream. As well as that, she could hear the bagpipes playing in her head.
“Stop the music,” she said groggily.
“You alright?” Goldman said, peering at her. “You look like shit young lady.”
Eda shrugged, then turned to the front. She pawed at thin air, at all the faces looking back at her.
“I want my head start,” she said, trying to focus on the blurry shape of Manny. “You promised me…”
“A head start,” Goldman echoed. “Nothing more, nothing less.”
15
The bow of the speedboat pointed towards the mainland. It cut through the choppy blue waters of Quincy Bay, traveling northwest and conjuring up a long white frothy tail in its wake that stretched all the way back to Dead Island.
Manny stood in the bow cockpit, staring hypnotically at the Massachusetts coastline up ahead. Nearby one of the grunts was driving the boat while two others were pointing their rifles at Eda and Goldman, who’d been told to sit in the stern cockpit during the short crossing back to Castle Island. It was a tense journey; nobody spoke and Eda still harbored fears about being shot and dropped overboard halfway through the trip. Or dropped overboard without being shot first. Back on Dead Island, she’d breathed a sigh of relief when Manny had climbed aboard the speedboat along with the three grunts, announcing that he’d also escort Eda and Goldman back to the mainland.
Any plans the grunts might have had about getting rid of the Americans would have to wait.
The new commander didn’t look at the two passengers throughout the journey. Eda watched him standing there like a carved figurehead, staring out to sea. She tried to imagine the turmoil going around in his head. That morning he’d woken up as Manny the shy, secret poet and now, just a few hours later, his cousin was dead and he was the Commander of the Third East Coast Unit.
The Castle Island pier approached on the horizon with the shadow of Fort Independence sprawled out behind it.
The boat pulled up next to the pier and rocked back and forth on the surface of the water. Manny turned around at last, looking like a much older version of the young man who Eda had spoken to before her first duel with Mr. China. His skin was grayish-white. At the very least he looked seasick. Walking over to the cockpit, he said something to the grunt at the controls. Then he signaled for Eda and Goldman to approach. When they did, he informed them to climb the small ladder on the pier that would take them up onto the Castle Island walkway.
“You first,” Eda said, looking at Goldman.
Goldman grumbled, then put his hands on the bottom rung and began climbing. Eda followed behind, sticking close to the old man who battled his way to the top slowly and with great difficulty.
Manny went up with them. When they reached the top, he stood on the pier, looking back south along the water. With a sigh he leaned over the metal railing, signaling to the three grunts in the boat that he’d be back onboard in a minute.
Goldman was halfway towards the car park. He turned around when he noticed that Eda wasn’t alongside him.
She was still at the edge of the walkway, standing beside Manny.
“I’ll be right there,” Eda said, calling over to Goldman when she noticed his confused expression. “Keep walking and I’ll catch up.”
The old man nodded. But he stayed exactly where he was.
Eda lowered the hood of the rain cloak and a stinging pain went up and down her arm. The long, jagged wound she’d acquired in the duel had been whipped by the harsh wind on the crossing, sometimes to the point of it becoming unbearable. She’d done her best not to poke at it. Not to look at it.
“You’re free to go,” Manny said. His voice was strangely hollow. “Congratulations.”
“I don’t know what to say to you Manny,” Eda said, her long brown hair flapping in the wind. “About your cousin…about what happened…”
“It’s not your fault Eda,” Manny said. “She would have killed you. We both know she would have killed you and wouldn’t have lost a wink of sleep over it.”
Eda nodded. “So I guess you’re commander now?”
“Yes,” he said.
Eda stole a glance down at the boat. The grunts were standing on deck talking amongst themselves and paying no attention to what was going on up on the walkway. Like most of the other grunts back on Dead Island, they were stone cold sober now. Fun day was over.
Eda took a step closer to Manny.
“Come with us,” she said, lowering her voice. “You told me yourself Manny, this isn’t who you are. This war bullshit, it’s not meant for you. Now your cousin’s gone and there’s no need for you to pretend anymore. If you want, you can leave it all behind and never look back.”
A gang of seagulls flew overhead, pondering the possibility of food scraps appearing on the walkway.
“I belong with my people,” Manny said. “As commander, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that Eda.”
Eda frowned. “Bullshit,” she said. “A few hours ago you were telling me about a boy who used to sit on the street and write poetry. Where is he now? You’ve just changed into a war god all of a sudden?”
“Sometimes reluctant leaders are the best leaders.”
“They’ll kill you for God’s sake,” she said, pushing a clump of hair off her face. “Are you going to keep proving yourself to them like your cousin did? Are you going to slit a grunt’s throat now and then to make a point? What was it you told me? They challenge their leaders all the time. Right? Are you up for that?”
Manny said nothing.
“Come with us,” Eda said. “You won’t have much on the road but at the very least you can write. We’ll pick up pencils and paper. You only have to know where to look to find them and I know where to look.”
“No.”
Manny was backing off towards the ladder.
“Manny,” Eda said. “Don’t…”
“Goodbye Eda.”
He put a hand on the top rung and signaled to the men below that he was on his way down. Before he began th
e descent however, he gave Eda a look that chilled her blood. In that moment Eda saw Manny’s cousin alive and well, as if her evil ghost was staring through his eyes.
“We’ll be coming after you,” Manny said. “It doesn’t matter if it’s me at the helm of this unit or someone else. As we speak, there are over a hundred units stationed on both the east and west coasts. Soon they’ll be making moves. Going further inland to stake a permanent claim on this land. What I’m trying to say is, this isn’t your country anymore.”
He climbed down the ladder towards the speedboat. Eda watched his head disappear under the pier and then listened for a moment to the loud metallic clunking noise of his boots on the metal rungs.
“Eda,” Goldman yelled from behind. There wasn’t much pop in his voice anymore, having burned it out back on the beach with his last-minute entrance after the explosion.
She turned around and saw the old man shivering in the cold. He beckoned her over.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
“Sorry,” Eda called out, running over to catch up with him.
She locked her hand around Goldman’s arm. They walked back towards Fort Independence, keeping at a slow pace because it was all Goldman could manage now. Every couple of minutes he’d have to stop, double over and cough his lungs out. When he straightened up, Eda noticed a bluish tinge to Goldman’s lips that she didn’t like.
“You look like shit,” Eda said, trying to make light of something so dreadful. “How are you feeling?”
Goldman laughed weakly. But he didn’t answer.
“How the hell am I going to get you back to your apartment?” Eda said. “You can’t walk that far.”
“We’re not walking,” Goldman said.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see in a minute.”
When they reached the crowded car park, which was full of pauper vehicles, Goldman marched over to the nearest jeep. Upon closer inspection he realized the keys were missing. He shook his head and immediately moved onto the next vehicle. The second and third cars were no good either. The fourth one however, had a long silver keychain dangling beside the wheel.
“Bingo,” Goldman said. He patted the jeep like it was a faithful old sheepdog lying at his feet.
“Get in,” he said, looking at Eda who was standing on the other side of the car.
“You’re kidding right?” Eda said. “You’re going to drive a car when you’re half-dead?”
Goldman shrugged. “That’s how most people drove cars back in the day.”
Eda looked at the jeep. Its lower half was plastered in several shades of dried mud but more importantly, all four of the tires were dangerously bald. Even Eda, with what little she knew about cars, knew that the tires weren’t supposed to be smooth like that. Even if the damn thing went, it was death on wheels.
“Are you saying that you want to drive?” Goldman said, stepping back from the driver’s side.
“I’ve never driven a car in my life,” Eda said.
Goldman smiled. His eyes were bright again. Young.
“God damn it,” he said. “It’s been a long, long time since I’ve driven anything.”
“Maybe you can show me how to do it?” Eda said. She wiped a patch of dry blood off the skin around her nostrils. Another souvenir from the battle with Torres. “How hard can it be anyway?”
“We don’t have time for another crash course,” Goldman said impatiently. He was about to open the door when he noticed the worried look on Eda’s face. “Listen Eda. It’s only a five-minute drive from here back to Carson Beach. And there’s no other traffic to worry about. Five minutes. I reckon I’ve still got that much left in me. Don’t you?”
Eda leaned on the car. With a sigh she took off her belt and sword and threw them down onto the back seat.
“What the hell?” she said. “I’ve escaped death once today. I can do it again.”
Goldman whooped like an overexcited teenager. It was strange how he kept jumping back and forth between the top of the world and death’s door. For the moment at least, he was as fresh as a puppy but Eda knew it wouldn’t last long. Hopefully it would be long enough to get them back to Goldman’s apartment in one piece.
The old man opened the door and climbed behind the wheel. With a silly, boyish grin on his face, he turned the key very slowly. The engine spluttered into life and Goldman fell back in his seat, closing his eyes and listening.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” he said. “Oh sweet God in heaven, are you ready for this?”
“Sounds like it’s about to break down,” Eda said.
“No way,” Goldman said. “In God I trust.”
Eda dragged herself into the passenger seat, trying to ignore a chorus of aches and pains all over her body. She knew it was only going to get worse before it got better.
Goldman backed the jeep out of the parking spot, then cruised through the lot and onto the road. From the start he drove like a maniac. The jeep rocketed south on William J Day Boulevard and halfway through the journey Goldman threw his US army cap onto the road. His wispy hair flew back and he laughed like it was the best day of his life. Eda, despite her concerns, couldn’t help but laugh with him.
A short while later, Goldman pulled up outside the front door of the apartment building overlooking Carson Beach. He turned the engine off and glanced up at the sixth floor window.
“Home,” he said in a quiet voice. “Thank God Almighty.”
With a sigh he stepped out of the jeep. Before going inside however, Goldman stared across the road at the deep blue ocean.
“Wish I had time for one more swim,” he said. “But I reckon if I went in there now I wouldn’t make it back to the apartment.”
Eda stood next to him, listening to the waves. Thinking how peaceful it all looked from afar.
Goldman refused any help from Eda as they made their way upstairs to the sixth floor. Stubborn pride fueled his limbs, carrying him all the way to the top.
“Goddamn it,” he cried out, when the climb was over. “Getting old is no fun. And dying isn’t much better.”
Inside the apartment, Eda helped Goldman onto the couch. That’s where he wanted to stay, so he said, surrounded by his photographs. Eda put a fresh blanket over the old man and slipped a soft pillow behind his head. Goldman gathered as many family photos around him as he could, scooping them up off the floor and asking Eda to get some others that were scattered around the apartment.
After she’d made Goldman comfortable, Eda went into the bathroom to clean her wounds with soap and water. She found a case of medical supplies and patted her cuts dry with a towel. After that she self-bandaged as best she could, wrapping foam padding around her hand and then layering it across the length of the arm. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
“Make sure you take as much food and water as you need,” Goldman said, when Eda returned to the living room.
“You got a bag?” she asked. “Mine’s still somewhere out there on the highway.”
“Take one of Emily’s,” Goldman said. “Look in the closet in her bedroom.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Goldman said, sinking deeper into the couch.
Eda took an old Nike backpack out of Emily’s room and filled it with food and fresh ammo. She then went downstairs and helped herself to one of the many spare M4s in the weapons chest. Its removal didn’t even make a dent in Goldman’s pile of killing machines. Eda brought the rifle back up to Goldman who looked it over for her.
“It’s good,” he said, after examining it as best he could. “I showed you how to reload didn’t I?”
“Yep.”
“And you’ve got plenty of ammo.”
“More than I can carry.”
Eda dropped the rifle at the front door beside her bag and sword. She then went back inside the living room and sat on the floor beside Goldman who was flat out on the couch.
She took his hand. It was
like touching thin air.
“Maybe I should stay,” she said. “I don’t feel good leaving you alone like this. You know?”
Goldman shook his head. It was clear the old man still had a chunk of stubbornness left in him should it be required. “No you won’t,” he said. His voice was a whisper now. “There’s no time for any of that watching me die crap.”
Eda nodded. “Sure there is.”
“No,” Goldman said, looking at her. His breathing was fast, erratic. “Young lady, I hate to say this but it’s up to you now. It’s up to you to warn the people. A thankless task I’m sure – no one will want to hear what you have to say. Fewer still will believe you. Thing is, they all think the worst is behind them, the poor bastards, but you gotta tell it like it is. You’re the messenger now. Okay?”
“Okay,” Eda said.
“I’m sorry it has to be you,” Goldman said, squeezing her hand as best he could. “The last thing you deserve is another End War. And here’s the thing Eda, don’t forget that there’s never going to be an End War. No matter how many fights they call the End War another one will always show up after it. Sooner or later. That’s the shitty truth of it.”
Goldman let go of her hand. Wheezing softly, he pulled one of the family photos towards him and pressed it tight against his chest. Eda stole a quick look. It was a nice portrait of them all – the young Goldman, his wife and three girls, sitting around a picnic table with a shimmering blue lake in the background.
“I enjoyed that drive,” he whispered. “You’re crazy for letting me behind the wheel.”
“I know,” Eda said.
The old man chuckled. His eyes stared up at the damp-infested ceiling.
“Go now,” he whispered. “Before it gets worse.”
Eda nodded. “Okay.”
She pushed herself back up to her feet. An explosion of white-hot pain shot up and down her limbs.
“See you,” she said, limping towards the front door.
“Hell of a day,” Goldman said.
“Hell of a day,” Eda said.
She left the apartment, closing the door gently behind her. She had Emily Goldman’s bag strapped onto her back. Lex’s katana hung from the scabbard on her belt and Talbot Goldman’s M4 was draped over her shoulder. Her rain cloak was shredded at the left arm but it would do until she found something better.
After the End Trilogy Box Set Page 44