by Mark Lingane
“Did he say when? You can’t control a significant number of men without closely defined dates. That’s how you lose a war.”
Fire flashed in Charlie’s eyes. He leaned in toward Nikola. “Don’t speak to me about loss.”
Nikola glared back at him. “So, when does the cavalry arrive?”
“The Church will do what it can with the resources available to it, but the Great Wall presents challenges.”
“Great Wall?”
“It’s the east’s punishment after their former leader was killed and they were forced to surrender. The Peacemaker built the wall. He often mediates between our aggressors and us, and negotiates treaties. He also arranges allies for us, and sends us weapons and medical supplies when we can get through to him in Salt Lake City. One of them will come to our aid.”
“Why does this Peacemaker help you?”
“The wall is all about trade. The east is a devastated land with radiation and famine. A peaceful west means efficient trade with the east. Like all of us, the Peacemaker needs resources supplied by others. In war, the trade dries up.”
“Except for the products required for war. It seems to me the Peacemaker is only useful when there’s a war. You don’t question this Church of Truth or the Peacemaker?”
“Their actions reflect their words.”
“The actions that you can see. In fact, change that to the actions that they let you see.”
“You don’t know how authority works here,” Charlie said, smacking his hand on the table.
“But you don’t attack the wall. You let the division stand between the people.”
“It’s a huge wall, and it’s heavily protected.”
“On both sides?”
“We haven’t been given instructions to attack it. An attack would need to be coordinated, which would involve many divisions that aren’t necessarily on the same side.”
“I think you like having the wall there. You’re on the right side of it. Except now you’re not. You’re trapped on this side with the infected running around, and no one’s coming to save you.”
“The Master will come.”
“Will he? And who will come with him? How will he trade his way through? How will he battle this new foe?”
Charlie sat quietly for a moment. “Times have been difficult. The communication lines are not good. We’re not based in our headquarters, and the army scatters and dwindles to a shadow of its former self. The elements conspire against us. It’s easy for you to walk into our country with a lack of understanding of the politics and infrastructure and pass judgment.”
“War is war. Politics likewise. I’ve endured enough of both in my own country, and I won’t not allow my journey to end here.” Nikola stood up and placed his hands on the table. He leaned forward and stared into the eyes of Charlie.
Charlie looked around at the handful of men in the room and shrugged. “Fine. Go. There are thousands of them, and you’re only one man.”
“I’m a man with a mission. The infected are wayward creatures with no sense.”
“And no sense of mercy.”
“If you stay here, you’ll die. Your Master might send support. You don’t know that for sure, and you don’t know when. Perhaps it’ll be too late. I won’t stay here and condemn myself as you have. I will drive a stake through the enemy.” He looked directly at Charlie.
“You’re on your own with limited weapons and over-passionate words,” Charlie said. “You want to fight a big war, but what can you do?”
“For a start, I won’t be on my own. I look forward to finding out who my mystery follower is, and I welcome anyone who wishes to join me.”
50
THE DAY HAD crawled by, matching their speed over the rough terrain. The road buckled and twisted from centuries of torturous weather and neglect. Parts of the bike started to rattle, and steam burst out of one pipe during the day. Sebastian drove the bike off the road onto a relatively flat stretch of ground, and they climbed off.
He collapsed onto the only bit of sand he could find among the rocks. His body ached from head to toe. Setting up the tent had been a nightmare, as a strong easterly wind continually buffeted the material into an oversized kite. The embers from the fire fluttered up into his face, and the heat of the day evaporated, leaving him shivering.
“Do these motels have beds?”
“They’re famed for it,” Memphis said.
“When do we get to one?”
“Soon.”
“When soon?”
“Soon enough. Have something warm.” She handed over a steaming cup of broth.
He sat up slowly, whimpering as his muscles complained after the day’s onslaught. He got halfway up, then rolled onto his side and stared at the darkness encroaching from the east. He wrapped his arms around his body and put on his sad face, hoping for sympathy.
“Come on, sour face. Cheer up.”
“How can I find happiness?”
“Easy. Do as I say.”
He glanced sideways at her. “I think that would be an unwise course of action.”
“You see? Doing the opposite is already causing you grief. Do as I say and you’ll be happy.”
“What kind of things are you going to say?”
“How about, for a start, you must kiss me. Urgently.”
“How’s that going to make me happy?”
“Oh, you have little faith.”
He glanced over at the bike. “I should fix it.”
“It can wait. Kiss, then drink.”
The next day was another ordeal. Memphis walked beside Sebastian as he slowly revved and stuttered the bike over the worsening terrain. Another engine seal slipped, slowing the bike even further. For a vehicle built for speed, the role of beast of burden was taking its toll. Sweat rolled off Sebastian under the warming spring sun as his muscles strained under the effort of controlling and lifting the vehicle over the rocks.
A quiet lunch passed frostily while Sebastian focused on repairing the bike rather than kissing Memphis. They limped on as the sun fell behind them. Finally, the road resolved into something manageable, and they jumped on the bike. Sebastian eased it carefully along the expanse of cracking concrete.
As twilight descended, they passed an old rusty sign that had WELCOME TO FALLON – LOVIN’ THE JOURNEY scrawled in an overly comic and upbeat script. Sebastian kicked it as he went past, loathing the optimism that the journey had sucked from him. He pulled in the clutch, and the bike freewheeled into the center of the small town.
The streets were empty. The buildings were quiet. In the town square there was a large statue encircled by an ornate fountain and pool. Brown water trickled from a partially blocked nozzle. The setting sun cast their shadows across the brickwork pavement. A door flapped against its doorjamb, sending an eerie thud-thud through the deserted streets.
They sat on the bike, quietly taking it all in.
“Is this normal?” Sebastian said.
“I don’t normally stay in places like this. Not enough places to hide.”
“Is this what they call a one-horse town?”
“I doubt they even have a horse.”
A tall building dominated the skyline; it was barely more than iron girders holding up the floors.
Sebastian caught movement on the top floor. “Hello,” he called, “is anybody there?”
Memphis slid off the back, and Sebastian swung his leg over the seat. He peered around the buildings.
He called out again. “Hello?”
There was a noise from a two-story building to their left. It sat squarely on the corner, taking in all angles from the town square. They slowly made their way to the main entrance. A shadow flashed in a window. Sebastian reached for his sword. An elderly man came charging out the door, pointing a rifle at them. The door slammed shut behind him, and they could all hear the bolt being slid shut.
The man appeared to be waiting for the click, and he marginally relaxed. “Leave your hands where
we can see them.”
They both raised their hands.
The man glared at them, slowly moving the rifle barrel between the two of them. He held the weapon with expert ease. “What division are you from?”
“None. We’re travelling through,” Memphis said.
“I don’t believe you,” the man replied. “Especially you,” he said, pointing the barrel at her. “I know a soldier when I see one.”
“Whoa, just wait a second,” Sebastian said.
The man swung the rifle around to Sebastian. He looked the young man up and down. “I don’t know what you are. Soldier, yes, but not from around here. Is that a cape you’re wearing?” he said, looking at the tattered remains of the velvet drape.
“Of course. Every tesla needs one.”
“What’s a tesla?”
He sighed. “A special kind of fighter.”
“Like a SEAL?”
“This conversation is going to get weird very quickly,” Sebastian said. “If it hasn’t already. Can we take a shortcut? What do you suspect us of?”
The old man cocked the rifle. “I ask the questions.”
“Never argue with a man with a gun. That’s what my father always said,” Memphis said.
The statement took Sebastian by surprise. She’d never mentioned anything about her father before.
“At least someone has some sense in this forsaken land,” the man said. “Come with me.”
He signaled for them to follow as he slowly made his way back to the building, stepping backwards and keeping a watchful eye on both of them. The door unbolted as he approached and swung outward. They stepped past the man into the darkness of the room inside. The smell of stale beer hit them straightaway. When they were inside, the man kicked the door closed behind them. In the dimly lit room, Sebastian could make out several other men, all with firearms.
“You need to declare yourself,” the man said. “Are you aligned with the Peacemaker?”
“No,” Sebastian said. “We’re not aligned with anyone. We’re heading east.”
“We’re not joining you,” the elderly man said.
Memphis and Sebastian glanced at each other.
“That’s okay,” Sebastian said. “We’re not looking for anyone to join us.”
The man stood stock still. “That reverse psychology hoodoo won’t work on me either.”
The others in the gloom fidgeted uncertainly.
“I can promise you, there’s no hoodoo going on here,” Sebastian said. “We’re travelling out to Denver, and we’re looking for a room for the night. If it’s too much of a security threat to have us here, then we can move on and camp out in the desert. We’ve already spent three nights out there.”
“I just wanted some comfort,” Memphis added.
The man turned toward the other men. “Chet, you go check their vehicle.”
One of the younger men disappeared out through the door.
“What’s in Denver?” the man said. “It’s not the most legal of places.”
Sebastian frowned. “Sorry? I don’t understand.”
“Why are you going to Denver? It’s a simple question.”
“I’m heading to New—”
Memphis kicked him. “We’re going to get married.”
The old man hesitated. Sebastian’s mind melted. She can’t possible mean it, he thought. Then he panicked.
“The young man’s face says it all,” said the old soldier. He laughed. “I’ve seen that expression many times.” He looked at Memphis. “You don’t look pregnant, not yet anyways.”
She smiled. “It’s early days.”
Sebastian felt faint and the color drained from his face.
The soldier laughed again, a bit more heartily. “Don’t worry, son, the first time is the worst.”
Chet appeared in the doorway. “All clear, Sarge. Nothing to worry about except that great stick strapped to his back.”
The end of the barrel wavered between Sebastian and Memphis. Eventually, in one swift movement, Sarge lowered the gun and placed it on the bar counter. He wore an old army jacket. The Chargers’ insignia was faded, but still visible on the sleeve. The other men relaxed their weapons, but held onto them.
Sarge ducked under the bar and pulled himself a beer. He took a long sip. “You have to be the craziest kids.” He shook his head and watched Memphis. “Sleeping out in the desert in your condition. Pull up a stool, especially you, young lady.” He took another sip.
The other men lifted their glasses and drank quietly. One of the men whispered something, and the others let out a sinister chuckle.
Memphis moved awkwardly onto a stool, feeling vulnerable.
Sebastian leaned over to her. Concern was nearly etched into his face. “Were you serious about the, um, you know, pregnant thing?” he whispered.
“It happens. It’s a byproduct. Everything has a cost. Even fun.”
He sat down heavily on the small stool and stared at the floor.
“I’m joking.” She gave him a smile.
He let out a big sigh. He felt like he’d been holding his breath for minutes.
She placed her hand on his arm and he did the same.
“Sorry for the welcome, but we’ve been pretty jumpy around here of late,” Sarge said, bringing them back to reality.
“You seem well trained and equipped,” Memphis said. She stared longingly at the beer in his hand.
“I got decommissioned after the Accession Wars accord was struck. Twenty years in those stinking wars, and nothing to show for it except a piece of dirt so contaminated you couldn’t grow disease.”
“Who’s telling you guys that you have to join?” she said.
“The Peacemaker. He says if we don’t then he can’t promise that the others who are joining up won’t see us as the enemy. We’re all meant to be in it together, rally round the flag. Also, he said he won’t be able to send medical supplies down here because they’ll be needed by the soldiers.”
“Doesn’t sound like a very peaceful thing to do.”
“I’m beginning to have my doubts, but you can’t argue about the news you hear.”
The sound of firing outside broke the quiet.
Sarge grabbed his rifle off the bar and jumped over to the window. He glanced out. “Looks like a small pack of outlaws. You two stay here. Chet, come with me.”
There was a call and response to the firing. Sebastian crept over to the doorway and looked out through a narrow crack. A bullet landed in the thick wood of the doorjamb, startling him. He crept to a window and peeped out. Sarge and Chet were sheltering behind the old stone fountain. They were taking turns firing down the street while the other reloaded. Return fire was coming from a heavily armored truck.
“They’re never going to beat them like that,” Sebastian whispered.
One of the outlaws screamed as a bullet sliced through him. His semi-automatic weapon unleashed a long torrent of bullets that arced through the air as he tumbled backwards to the ground.
Sebastian moved to the door.
“You can’t go out there.” Memphis gave him a wink. “You’re going to be a father.”
“Stop that.” He opened the door a crack and looked out. He gasped as he saw a familiar shape make its way around the town square. He slipped out the door, shutting it behind him, and ran across the street to Sarge and Chet.
“What are you doing here?” Sarge said. “Get back inside.”
“You’ve got hostiles on the left.”
“Where? I can’t see any.”
“They’re moving quickly, in the shadows.”
“Chet, keep an eye out for anything on the left,” Sarge said. “You see anything move, shoot it.”
“You won’t stop it with those,” Sebastian said.
“What?”
“You get the outlaws, I’ll take care of the other ones.”
Chet and Sarge moved in a pincer movement and soon had the outlaws pinned down. Two more fell. The remaining outlaw ma
de a run for the vehicle and powered away in a cloud of burning rubber. The rest of the men emerged from the bar.
Sebastian ran toward the first infected, which leaped out of the shadows, claws outstretched. Sebastian thought it looked smaller than usual. He reached for his sword and swung it with all his might. It caught the infected square in the stomach. He ripped it up though the body, which twisted twice in the air and landed flat on its back with its internals spread out on the road. Sebastian stepped forward and sliced off its head. He was shocked to see what the creature was wearing.
The second infected came charging at him, bounding like a demented dog. Sebastian swung the sword up, slicing into the body. The force drove the creature up into the air. Sebastian pirouetted, swung the sword around in a wide arc, and severed the head. It spun through the air and landed at Sarge’s feet. Sebastian stabbed his sword through the twitching body, stapling it to the ground. He noticed that its wrists had thick manacles. They had been chained up before being released like dogs.
Sarge stood with his mouth open. “What the hell were they?”
Several other townsfolk appeared from out of the buildings.
“They were infected. Well, they were Chargers going by the remains of their uniforms, but they’re now infected.”
“A Charger? They’re meant to be protecting us.”
“I wouldn’t count on it from now on. These Chargers showing up infected is a real worry.”
“Infected with what exactly?”
“It’s a virus called Famish,” Sebastian said. “These ones are only first generation, so they’re not that lethal.”
“You killed that one so quickly. How could you tell it was one of these … infected?”
“I’ve seen a lot of them. You have to act quickly. They’ll seize on any hesitation and kill you—or worse.”
“Worse?”
“If they don’t eat you, you’ll become one of them.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Sarge said.
“You don’t have time. There’ll be more coming. And after every attack, you have to check everyone to see if they’ve been cut.”
“You heard him,” Sarge said to the other men. “Everyone needs to show that they’re”—he glanced at Sebastian—“uncut.”