Threat Ascendant

by Brian M. Switzer

  The Doc leaned against the wall and passed a hand over his face. "Yeah, before the outbreak promising work was being done in this field. Stem cell therapy and cell regeneration, a new batch of IV steroids, gene therapy, and even some breakthroughs in electrical and transcranial stimulation." He held his hands out at his sides. "But now? About all we can do is get her a babysitter and a steady supply of diapers."

  They lost another community member the day after the battle when Jerry Quinn rose from his bed at two in the morning and went outside for a smoke. A creeper came upon him from behind; by the time Jerry’s screams roused help, it was too late. The creature laid his throat open and he bled to death on the cold concrete. Because the creeper wore the attacker’s black uniform and Jerry sported a nasty series of bights on his arm and shoulder, it was clear to Terrence what happened.

  One of the creepers the defenders weaponized bit an invader. He reacted to his death sentence by hiding in a tunnel, where he died and turned. "It was Jerry's bad luck to be the first person the biter saw after it made its way back out of the shafts," Terrence finished.

  With every able-bodied community members pitching in and working long hours, it wasn't long before they restored the quarry to its pre-invasion condition. Three industrial strength power washers, big ungainly contraptions with a confusing array of hoses and basins, had sat unused in the storage tunnel for months- nobody could remember why the scavenge teams thought it was a good idea to bring them back. They finally found a good use for them following the battle. After they removed and burned the bodies and burned and put down all the creepers, they pumped water up from the underground lake to power wash the bottom and remove the blood and gore.

  A few hours after dawn on the third day following the attack, a small cadre of tunnel-dwellers escorted Kayla to the south end of the pit, near the blacksmith works. They sat her in a folding chair, pulled it up to a card table, and sat a bottle of water next to her.

  Becky and Tess had greeted her at her cell just after sun up, toting what little bit of makeup and hair products they had. Kayla looked resplendent in a simple V-neck T-shirt and blue jeans. She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail and brushed her bangs over to the side. All four buttons on the T-shirt were open and she had torn it a few more inches past the bottom button, revealing her breasts almost to her nipples.

  Will whispered in Danny's ear. Danny patted him on the back, then he and Coy guided a matronly looking woman in her fifties to the empty chair across the table from Kayla. The woman had a fleshy face and her long brown hair was streaked with gray. She said her name was Ann Nuckols and her common-law husband was killed in the attack. She spoke without acrimony or accusation; instead, she told Kayla in a clear, unemotional tone how much he had meant to her and what life in the apocalypse would be like without him.

  Craig Overkell was next. He used two of his allotted five minutes telling Kayla what it felt like when he took a bullet in the shoulder.

  And on it went- one by one, every resident that wanted to faced Kayla and describing how her actions affected their lives. Everyone obeyed the two rules Will laid down when he proposed the assembly at an all-hands meeting the night before. "It's an opportunity to face her and get some closure," he had said. "But if we do this, we will do it with some dignity. I won't allow it to turn into a mob scene or a lynching. Everyone will have five minutes to say what's on your mind. No yelling, no cussing; speak your piece in a calm manner, then give the next person their turn. That's rule one. Rule two- no audience participation. No booing, jeering, chants, or clapbacks. Let the person sitting with her have their say and wait for your turn." The community jumped at the chance to confront the source of their sorrow and pain, and over 100 of them waited in line for their five minutes with the deposed Queen.

  Kayla didn't say a word. She seldom made eye contact with the speakers, preferring to look over their heads to the top of the bluff or down at her clasped hands resting on the table.

  Will stood next to Becky, holding her hand, as the last speaker rose from the table. He gave her hand a squeeze and let go, then whispered in her ear. “I have to go tell Kayla to get ready to die.”

  70

  * * *

  Will moved forward to talk to her. The crowd of residents behind him milled about and spoke in small groups, but no one left. They knew the community's business wasn't over for the day.

  Kayla remained in her chair, her face expressionless as she surveyed the crowd. Two armed men stood close and kept careful attention on her. Her eyes locked on to Will's as he approached and her lips turned upward into a small, ironic smile.

  The folding chair protested with a metallic groan as he plopped his bulk down opposite her. "It's time, Kayla. Is there anything you need to do to prepare?"

  A momentary shadow passed over her face and her smile turned caustic. "Like a visit from a religious counselor or a representative of my government? I can't very well meet with either person since they are both me."

  He nodded his agreement; it no longer mattered.

  She tapped the fingernail of her right index finger on the tabletop. "Those people were so eager to tell me what was on their minds. Answer me this, William. Will you allow me to address the gathering in reply?"

  He took off his hat and scratched at the back of his head. This was a request they had considered. He scanned the tunnel-dwellers until he caught Jiri's eye and motioned him over.

  The Professor ambled to the table, his long legs covering the ground in a hurry. There were no empty chairs, so when he got there he loomed them with his arms crossed over his chest. "What's up?"

  Will nodded in Kayla's direction. "She wants to address the community."

  Jiri sucked a tooth and studied Kayla, his face impassive. "I guess it is traditional to let the condemned make a statement before the sentence is carried out.”

  Will heaved a sigh and regarded Kayla. "Okay then, but you have ground rules. No talking about being Queen or their leader. No pleading for help or proclaiming your innocence." He thought of his son. "And no singling anyone out. You speak to the group or not at all.“

  Kayla's wore a sober expression and dipped her head in agreement.

  Will called out to Justin, then sent the navigator and the Professor out among the crowd to make them aware of the change of plans. Conversation ground to a halt and everyone turned to study the condemned woman. When the quarry was quiet enough to hear a mouse skitter by, Will gave her a nod.

  She stood and clasped her hands in front of her. She dropped her chin, then looked up and spoke in a clear and confident tone that carried across the bottom. "I apologize for my actions and ask forgiveness from those of you for whom I damaged or caused pain." She placed her left hand over her heart as if making a pledge. "These last few days I’ve had an opportunity to see the work you've done to make this your home, and how you interact with and care for one another. Most of you have heard me referred to as Queen, but I had a different title in my territory. My people called me Pastor.

  "I spent most of my adult life before the outbreak in a close relationship with God. Even though I walked away from Him over the recent years, one of the first things I learned when I began to pray and study the word was He will never walk away from me.

  "The terrible irony of what I wrought here — the pain and suffering I caused — and the consequences I'm about to face is this. If I had come myself and saw how much you've accomplished here and how much you love each other, I never would have ordered the attack and never tried to chase you from the haven you've created."

  She took a deep and ragged breath and her bottom lip trembled for a moment. She lowered her eyes for a long five seconds, and when she raised her eyes, she had steeled herself. "I ask you one thing. As I prepare for what is coming, I'll pray for myself and for you folks. If you can't bring yourself to I certainly understand; but for those that can, please pray for my soul after I’m gone." She dipped her chin to indica
te she was done and returned to the chair.

  Her unexpected words stunned the small gathering. They gaped in surprise and stared at Kayla with slack jaws and wide eyes. Will gazed down at her with a bemused expression.

  She gave him a sly wink. "Not what you expected, was it Mr. Crandall?"

  If I’ve learned anything about you in the short time I've known you, it's not to guess what you’ll do."

  She pursed her lips. "There is one more thing you can do for me."

  "What's that?"

  "Let me spend ten minutes alone with Coy before my time is over here."

  "No way."

  She shot him a brittle smile. "Not even if it's the last request of the condemned woman?"

  "Absolutely not."

  "Five minutes, then?"

  "Couldn't if I wanted to. My wife would kill me."

  Kayla drew herself up and glowered at him with indignation. "What is your wife's problem with me?"

  Rather than respond, Will fixed her with a level stare.

  Kayla stared back for several seconds before her face broke and she laughed, a light tinkling sound that belied the solemnity of the occasion. "Okay, that was a dumb question." She sighed and drank from the bottle of water on the table. "I so wish this was wine,” she said almost to herself, then resumed speaking to Will. “Is that your wife, the pretty redhead you stood next to while everyone spoke?"

  "Yeah, that's Becky."

  "She's gorgeous. Awfully skinny, though." She looked him up and down. "I would've guessed you would prefer a woman with a little meat on her bones." She displayed a sassy smile that dissolved as a group of armed men with somber expressions approached and gathered behind him. She drew a ragged breath and rose unsteadily to her feet. Will whispered a few commands and two of the men took a spot on either side of her, offering their arms for support. She stiffened and stared at Will with raw panic. "You're coming, right? I'd like there to be at least one friendly face at the end."

  "I'll be right beside you."

  She relaxed and let the men guide her away from the table.

  The procession marched toward the north end of the quarry. Will walked beside Kayla; the armed guards created a half-circle behind them and to their sides. A few community members had departed to their tunnels, choosing not to watch the execution. The rest followed the procession, keeping back a respectful distance.

  They’d erected a ten-foot-high wooden pole near the north bluff. Kayla eyed it and rubbed her palms against her thighs as she walked. "That’s not a gallows, William. At least you are not hanging me. That would be mortifying, knowing the last thing I did in this mortal coil was pee my pants and shit myself." Her voice cracked and she stared up at the blue sky as they walked. "I don't want to suffer, Will. I may deserve to suffer, but I don't want to. Tell me this won't hurt."

  He thought fast and decided lying to a woman about to die would be a shit-stain thing to do. "I've never died before, so I can't tell you what it will feel like. But I can tell you it will be quick and they say it’s painless."

  "Procedure, huh? Pretty antiseptic, Will. Call it what it is, an execution, or a killing."

  "Point taken." They arrived at the pole. It was freshly cut and stripped of its branches and it still smelled of sap and raw wood. "Would you like a couple of women to take you to the restroom?"

  She eyed him with surprised gratitude. "Yes, that would give me some comfort."

  He called Tess and Tara forward and pulled Tara aside. "Behave yourself with her," he said in a quiet but firm tone. “And don't let her bait you. I don't think she'll try anything, but if she does, handle her as gently as the situation allows. The woman's in the final minutes of her life."

  Tara replied with a single acknowledging nod; she and her sister positioned themselves next to Kayla.

  "Kayla, don't make me regret this," he growled as they marched off. "Don't try anything stupid."

  She spun around and responded while walking backward. "Why not? You can't kill me twice." She giggled and turned back around, her shoulders more squared and her head held a little higher.

  71

  * * *

  Kayla’s hands, shoulders, and feet were bound to the pole; Will checked the ropes, making sure they were snug but not too tight. Jiri shot him a reproachful look, as if it offended that Will felt the need to double check his work. He gave the Professor a wry smile as an apology. He didn't see the point of all this, anyway. If it had been up to him, he’d put two bullets in the back of Kayla’s head and this whole show would be unnecessary. But others on the Council arguing about the community member’s need for closure outnumbered him. He scanned the crowd. A few people returned home after facing the enemy and having their say, but most of them stayed. They spread out in several long rows that started ten yards behind the line of shooters and watched the preparations with avid attention. He tore his attention from the crowd and returned it to his prisoner. "Do you have any last words?" he asked her.

  She tilted her head toward the card table. "I said everything I need to say over there."

  He nodded. "I've got this pillowcase and I am supposed to hood you with it. But I’ll leave that up to you."

  She drew a ragged breath and her lips turned up in a faltering smile. "I think I've seen all of this quarry I want to see."

  Wordlessly, he pulled the pillowcase over her head and down past her shoulders, trying to pull it snug and still be gentle. Jiri handed him a round, red piece of paper with a wad of double-sided tape stuck to one side. He eyed he thought her heart was and pressed the target into place. As he did, Kayla began drawing quick, panicky breaths. He took one of her hands in his, leaned close to the pillowcase, and spoke in a soft voice. “Calm down; you'll know when it's about to happen." She gave his hand a squeeze in response and he pulled away. He and Jiri joined Terrence off to the side.

  The peace officer patted him on the back and took a step forward. "Weapons up." He gave the shooters their command in a loud, clear voice.

  To Will, it seemed like he was in a picture. The crowd stood motionless and silent. No one stifled a cough, scratched their cheek, or moved their weight from foot to foot. There was no breeze to ruffle anyone's hair and no nearby trees holding birds that chattered and sang.

  Terrence broke the tenuous moment. "Aim."

  Five heads tilted as the shooters zeroed in on the target.

  Terrence’s voice was calm and collected, as if greeting an old acquaintance. "Fire."

  The rifle fire was flat and undramatic. Kayla had stood with her shoulders squared and her chin up, regal to the end. The impact drove her to the left; she swayed back in slow motion, her head bowed and her body slumped. The rope around her shoulders kept her from falling to the ground in a heap. Blood flowed from the bullet wounds in a torrent, turning the left side of her shirt and jeans red and dripping into a puddle around her feet.

  Clark Tullin sat well back of the throng in the cab of an idling pickup truck. Will spoke into his radio and the truck's engine growled as Clark goosed the accelerator. He pulled to a stop adjacent to the pole. Two helpers jumped from the truck bed and one tugged open the liftgate. Will joined in and helped them pull a simple, no-frills coffin out of the bed. They placed it on the ground next to Kayla's body. The two helpers held her up as Clark cut the ropes. As he sliced through the last strand and gravity pulled her body down, they caught it and guided it into the coffin. Terrence, Will, and Jiri helped load the coffin back onto the truck. They rolled across the bottom at a slow pace, taking the body to an unmarked grave that was already dug.

  As the truck chugged up the hill and a team of women with rubber gloves and cleaning supplies worked to scrub away Kayla’s blood, the crowd dispersed.

  72

  * * *

  The day after Kayla's execution, Danny, Jiri, and Jobe drove to Jasper as security for Clark and two other mechanics. When the conversation turned to returning the surviving inv
aders, Danny recalled seeing a school bus barn next to the fieldhouse. The mechanics drove up to see if the buses would run well enough to haul the survivors back to their homes. The trip was uneventful and it took them less than ninety minutes to get three of the banana-colored buses running.

  It was a somber affair when the invaders climbed aboard the next morning. The skies were gray and a steady drizzle fell on the quarry. The remaining attackers wore facial expressions that matched the weather. They crossed the town as part of a mighty army, and their spirits were high as they embarked on the first step of a path that ended with their domination of the Midwest. Now they were the few surviving members of that mighty army, the one that was smashed with ease and decisiveness by a crew a tenth its size. Many of the people who tramped up the bus steps lost family members in the attack, and they all lost friends. They returned to an uncertain situation. The followers they left behind at the realm expected news of their decisive victory days ago. The Queen planned on having a team shoot back to the realm as soon as she took control of the quarry. None of the survivors knew what happened back home when the team never arrived- for all they knew, the followers packed up and left.

  A few sullen and angry tunnel-dwellers showed up to watch them depart. They had loved ones injured or killed because of these invaders and preferred seeing them executed rather than returned to their realm. They yelled threats and curses at the slump-shouldered fighters and hurled rocks at the buses until Terrence ran them off.

  The peace officer rode in the front of the lead bus, alongside Will and Justin. Several empty rows of seats separated them from the remaining fighters. The Doc rode on the third bus, along with Tara and the injured attackers still under his care. Several armed guards patrolled the aisles of the three transports, walking among the survivors and glaring at them with malevolence.