He replaced his own weapon in its place against his belly, and looked around while he waited for Mort’s response, which was long in coming.
“You know,” Mort said as he took a step closer, “I don’t know about you, David.” He said the name with distaste, and David wondered for a moment if there were simply something wrong with it. “You come in out of nowhere, just when the shit’s about to hit the fan, and suddenly people start dying and you’re always off wandering through the woods. Makes a man wonder whose side you’re on.” David glanced down at the barrel of the gun as it rose to his face.
“Mort, I’m on everyone’s side, okay? That’s why I’m here. I just need to get back to the camp right now, or a lot more people are going to die. Trust me,” he pleaded.
Mort’s eyes were blank as he debated.
“Mitch seems to trust you,” Mort said. “He thinks pretty highly of you. You two knew each other before though, didn’t you?”
David realized that Mort had taken his getting close to Mitch as a threat. His throat grew tight and sweat broke out on his face. He wished he had been slower to holster his weapon. “Mort, I’m just trying to help. You, me, them, everyone. I’m not trying to take anyone’s place or—”
“Ha!” Mort shouted. David cringed; the man’s laugh was oddly reminiscent of the pulling of the trigger on a large firearm. “You think I’m that petty, do ya? I’m just trying to look out for my own. You seem kind of shady to me. Never seem to talk very much, always looking around. Counting us, maybe?” He raised an eyebrow. “And why would you be going back to the Base now? They were the ones that locked you up, weren’t they? I would have thought you’d steer clear of that place.” He was no more than a ghost, a pale specter in a black band t-shirt riddled with holes, only spots of him visible in the low light, no more than the part of his face unshielded by his grizzly beard, the spots of skin visible through his shirt, and the barrel of the gun still trained David.
“Mort, you have to believe me—”
“Drop your gun right now, you ugly son-of-a-bitch.” The shrill command came from behind David, and he cringed as he heard it.
“What the—? Who’s out there?” A bullet tore through the bark of a branch next to Mort’s head, and he jumped. David worried he would fire in fright, but he refrained.
“Drop it!” the female voice commanded, sounding more authoritative than David would have guessed possible.
There was a pause while Mort’s grip tightened on his weapon, though he reluctantly let the muzzle of his gun graze the earth at his feet. David drew his revolver from his belt and trained it on Mort’s heart out of instinct.
“I thought I told you to stay where you were,” David growled when Elizabeth strode up to his side.
“We’re running out of time,” she hissed.
“Still, I was handling this,” he grumbled. “All right, Mort, which way back to camp?”
Mort stared at the pair with confused and discerning eyes. He said nothing.
“Dammit Mort, just tell me. Everyone’s going to—”
David’s words were cut off by a second gunshot that set his ears ringing. He whirled on Elizabeth. He was about to shout at her when Mort spoke up.
“That way,” he blurted, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. The caution had gone from his face. Terrified instinct had taken over.
David took a few steps forward and snatched Mort’s weapon. “I’m going to take this, just to make sure you don’t shoot us in the back. We’re on your side, Mort, but for Christ’s sake, we’re in a hurry.” He took a step back and stopped. “Sorry,” he shrugged.
Elizabeth hurried to keep up with him as he blazed through the woods, kicking rocks and sticks out of the way, barely aware of them. That was not the way he wanted to handle that, and he didn’t look forward to his next meeting with the muscled man. He glanced over at Elizabeth and saw her shaking, clutching her body with her arms, looking terrified.
“Are you all right?” he asked her.
Her eyes were wide as a deer’s. “Yeah, I’m fine,” the words rushed out. “I just,” she stopped and looked away. “That was—”
“Terrifying, I know,” he finished. He smirked. “I wouldn’t have thought you had that in you.”
“Let’s not do that again, okay?” she said, a small smile breaking through her terror, though her arms stayed clasped around torso.
“That’s not going to be the last time you have to be brave,” he said gravely.
“I know,” she said, though her voice was reluctant.
They walked on in silence, though it was not long before the trees fell away to be replaced by large blocks of distilled night, a ring of them around the glowing embers of a fire. David picked up his pace as he stepped into the cleared area, running for the cabin where Mitch slept. He reached the door and turned to see Elizabeth holding back, eyes darting nervously back and forth. David ran back to her and grabbed her by the hand. He looked into her eyes and tried to fill his with as much reassurance as he could. She had shown so much courage just in coming here. Admiration for her dauntless spirit washed over him. Even with her features fuzzy and gray in the wan light of the night just before dawn began its approach, she was beautiful. Her eyes were full of frightened tears and her cheeks were flushed with terror, and she was gorgeous.
Knowing this may be his last chance, he stooped to plant a kiss on her lips; mid-stoop he aborted and aimed for her forehead. He was closing in when her face puckered and—
She sneezed.
He caught the brunt of the blast on his chest, though a few droplets came to rest on his chin. He wiped the mucus away and smiled. She returned his with an apologetic grin. He wished there were time to try again. Resolving to make time later he opened the door, gun in his left fist, Elizabeth’s clammy hand clutched in his right as he led her inside.
“Mitch,” David called softly into the absolute darkness within.
He could hear Mitch rolling around and grunting, unhappy at being woken in the middle of the night.
“Mitch, wake up,” David said again, louder this time.
“What do you want?” Mitch slurred.
David turned and propped the door open, which had swung shut after they had entered. The dismal light that entered the room was not enough to see Mitch any better, so David used it only to find his own bed and sit himself and Elizabeth down while they were enveloped once again in darkness by the creaking door.
“You need to get up. Now. It’s important.”
“Ugh,” was the only reply from the other side of the oppressively small room.
“Mitch, they’re coming.”
Mitch froze.
“They’re coming?” he repeated breathlessly. “It’s time?” He sounded excited, like a boy about to walk into the backyard on Christmas morning in search of a new bicycle.
“Yes, Mitch, get up. Wait, no, it’s not what you think,” David gushed.
“What do you mean it’s not what I think?” Mitch asked. “Is it not someone from the Base?”
“It is, Mitch, but they’re not coming to welcome you home,” David said. There was only silence from the other side of the room. “Mitch—”
“We shouldn’t talk here,” Mitch interrupted. “You can never be sure who’s listening, especially at night.” David could hear more shuffling, the slip of a foot penetrating a boot, and the crunch of dirt underneath it. Mitch pushed the door open. “Let’s go.”
David rose and took a step forward, right into Mitch’s outstretched hand. David saw that his eyes were engrossed with something behind him.
“This is Elizabeth,” David said, turning and holding a hand out to her. She took it and strode up beside him. “Elizabeth, this is Mitch, leader of the Outliers.”
“Unofficially,” Mitch said as he held out his hand. She grasped it awkwardly. Mitch looked over to David and mouthed, “She from the Base?” David nodded.
Mitch looked impressed as he led them into the night. He moved quickly, ste
pping back behind his own cabin and around the outside of the ring of them. There was not a sound made in acknowledgement of their wandering from any of the Outliers as they arched around the camp and through a dense thicket that led up to the crest of a small hill where a handful of stumps dotted the otherwise bald head. Mitch took a seat on one and gestured for them to do the same. They leaned their heads in close.
“So, Elizabeth, you’re from the Base,” Mitch began.
“Yes, I am.” She looked scared and unsure of how to act around Mitch. He had an air of nonchalance that was disarming to most, but perhaps being introduced as the leader of her people’s longtime enemies was not the easiest way to start a conversation, David reflected.
Mitch turned to David. “She’s very pretty,” he said as if she were not sitting right in front of him. David blushed. “I think I get it now,” he went on. “Why you stayed at the Base for so long.” He snickered.
“Shut up,” David chided. “We have more important things to talk about, Mitch.”
He sobered up and looked at David with that alarming conviction.
“Okay, David, tell me what’s going on.”
David explained about how he had gone to the Base (though he left out the fact that he had followed the lumberjacks after Mitch had spoken to them; rather he told him only that he noticed that happening while attempting to get over the wall) and about all he had overheard through the windows and what Elizabeth had told him.
“So they’re coming out here to finish us off, once and for all?” Mitch summarized in a weary voice. “All we’ve done, all this time we’ve spent. These aren’t the same people I brought out here, David. I molded them, shaped them into good human beings. At least I tried to. With some it was impossible, they were too far gone. But I did everything I could. Everything I could, and it wasn’t enough.” His face was locked in a grimace, his eyes hard and his mouth twisted, all of it framed in the black thundercloud of his beard, which at this moment seemed to be emanating from within.
“Mitch, they’re coming in the morning. We can get away, or—”
“And go where?” Mitch interrupted with a sour grin. “Where would we go? This is plan B. No, this is plan Z. There’s no back-up. This is the end of the line. It’s over,” he said. He lowered his eyes to the ground. A startling noise slipped from his lips, a chuckle, bubbling laughter, rising to an insane cackling, a sinister sound in the otherwise silent woods.
“Mitch, there’s another way,” David started, when Mitch spoke again. “It’s my fault, you know,” he said, oblivious to David’s words.
“Mitch, you did everything you could,” David said.
“I did everything I had to,” he corrected. “Remember when I told you I just let the bad apples go ahead and try their hand at getting into the Base and stealing what they could? I just let them go, pointed them in the wrong direction so they wouldn’t ruin everything for the rest of us, and washed my hands of it?”
“What else could you have done?” David said. Elizabeth was looking between the two men warily, he noticed. “It might not have been ideal, but it was… practical.”
“Yeah,” Mitch guffawed. “That would have been ideal, actually. Try to stop them then send them on when there was no other way. Maybe I did too good a job at softening them up in the first place. David, no one wanted to raid the Base, at least not for a long time.” He had been speaking to the trees to his left, but now he turned back to face David and Elizabeth and dark gray trails ran down his face, cut through the grime of the wilderness by salty tears.
“I told them to go, David. Someone raised their voice against mine, and I convinced them to go. I wanted everyone out here to listen to me. I knew best, after all, didn’t I?” He was choking back sobs now, sucking snot back into his nose as it ran out onto his unchecked oily moustache. “We needed a leader, and it was me. It had to be me, it just made sense. People listened to me, they always have. But I remember that first time someone started cutting me down, trying to pull the Outliers into an all-out siege that would have just killed everyone and doomed us all.” Mitch’s voice lowered and his brow dipped in anger. “He had to go,” he said, pointing a finger at David, as if he had spoken against it. “It would have been the end of all of us, and you,” he said, pointing this time at Elizabeth.
“Mitch, you sent them?” David said. “You sent your own people out to their deaths?”
“What is wrong with you?” Elizabeth spoke up at last. David looked over and saw fire in her eyes, and feared an outburst that would swallow up the conversation. “You sent your own people out to die? You’re a monster, a murderer,” she spat with venom. “You’re no better than the man who wanted to fight; you’re no better than the old leaders that started the war, you know that?”
Mitch looked like he was going to strike her, but refrained.
“You think I wanted to?” he said, his voice grown almost pleading, his face softening as they escaped his lips. “You think it felt good, knowing that I was condemning my own? It was either condemn a few, or condemn everyone. If we had fought, we would have died. If we had remained the same, we would have been denied absolutely. My only chance was to teach them to be civil and weed out the ones who wouldn’t change.” Mitch looked drained, his face paler than ever, his eyes lidded and listless, his mouth drooping. He hung his head.
“Mitch, you never told me—”David began.
“I know.” Mitch’s voice dragged ponderously over every word. “When I saw you again, David, I was so happy. We were such a great team, and now we would team up again for the biggest score of our lives, and this one for the greater good. We’d be Robin Hood,” he pointed at himself, “and little John,” and he gestured at David, which made David crack a small grin despite himself. “And then I got ready to tell you my plan, and I realized you would hate it. You would tell me how awful it was, how evil, and we’d be right back to the old argument, the one that tore us apart in the first place.”
David thought about the last time he had seen Mitch. They had indeed argued, and it was not so different than their situation now. David held no grief with living as they had, taking what they needed and killing those they had to, until the day came that they had a way out. When they found those seeds, Mitch had wanted to throw them away. He said they were useless, that no one had gotten anything to grow for years. How would they? His argument made sense, even at the time David knew that. But he just couldn’t stomach throwing away the opportunity of a better future, more stable and sure than the one they had been facing, one less bloody.
That was what split them in the end. Mitch was not about to give up his way of life and settle down to coddle a seed that he knew would never grow, and David refused to continue to plunder and kill if there was even a chance that living that way was unnecessary.
It struck David now, as he looked at Mitch, hunched over, eyes wet and bloodshot, swaying in the still air, looking crumpled and defeated, that Mitch had never been a killer in the first place. He had always been the scout, the man on the scene, shooting the breeze with travelers while discovering if they had anything of value. When things turned sour, it was always David who would pull the trigger, loose the arrow, from a distance, but he had never avoided seeing the evidence of his handiwork up close. Mitch had exchanged blows a few times, but David could not remember him ever taking a life himself.
Just now the weight of murder was coming crashing down on his shoulders. To be the judge of life and death; is there anything harder? He had stepped up and made the decision, he had sentenced men to death, even sent them to their death crimeless, and now he was realizing that he had made the wrong choice. He had killed innocent men. He had not the wounds of a savior on his hands, but the blood of the innocent.
David’s thoughts drifted briefly to all the men he had killed over the years, but he shook his head, trying to physically rid himself of such reveries. Now is not the time, he thought, though he didn’t know if a good time for that would ever come.
Mitch’s face was invisible now, hidden behind fingers glistening with sweat. David realized that he could see them glistening, and that dawn was approaching. The sky was still black but a grayness was vying for dominion over the Earth, and it was coming too fast.
I should have so much more time.
“Mitch, you need to keep it together. There will be time for this later, time for sorrow and grief, but you need to get a hold of yourself. You can undo some of your wrongs—”
“Wrongs?” Mitch cried. His eyes were as full of fire as they had been but it was now unchecked, and David feared it would consume his friend if allowed to burn. “No, David. I did what I had to. Someone had to.” The back of his hand rose to paw at the tears on his cheeks. “It was awful, but it had to be done. I won’t say I regret it. It just wasn’t enough. That’s all. I tried, and I failed. He lifted his voice to the sky. “We all failed,” he yelled. “It’s over. We’re all dead.”
He returned his attention to David. “Call me the bad guy. It wouldn’t be the first time. I can take that. The world’s not all black and white. Forget about right and wrong. There’s only life and death.” He sniffed and ran a hand through his beard. “I never should have gone off in the first place. Life and death. I can’t believe I ever did. Maybe I wanted to do something to redeem myself, to earn my survival. I don’t know. Maybe at first, but I think I get it now. That’s all fucked. It’s all pointless.” He wrapped his arms around himself, sobbing and laughing, and refused to hear anything David said to try and bring him out of it.
David shot a glance at Elizabeth, hoping she wouldn’t listen to Mitch, not in the condition he was in now. She couldn’t know too much about his life before her, before everything had changed. She was the safeguard of humanity, keeping the snake from devouring its own tail once more, for the last time. Would she welcome a murderer into her life? That seemed quite a far cry.
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