by James Hunt
“I don’t think your mom would be too happy about that,” Paul said.
“We have to find my mom,” Julie said. “We’re on a mission.”
“That we are,” Paul said.
They left Tommy’s soon after, and Paul experienced something unfamiliar: the feeling of goodness. He felt good that they had gotten the medicine to Tommy, and for those quick moments, he was able to suppress the anxiety he felt over Samantha. Tommy insisted that they stay, but Paul knew it was time to get ready. He had the key to the car the Sheriff gave him, and he knew that the group would be back soon with Jordan. Paul still had much preparation to do for their trip. The mood around town was solemn and quiet. Most everyone was in his or her home. The death of Ryan had a terrible effect on morale, plus the townspeople worried for their people out on the road.
“Gosh, it’s quiet around here,” Julie said. “It’s like a different neighborhood or something.”
“We’re leaving tonight, as soon as Jordan gets back,” Paul said. “I want you to get fully packed and ready.”
Though she knew they were leaving soon, Julie still couldn’t believe it.
“So we’re really leaving? I mean, for real this time.”
“Yes, for real this time.”
“We’re going to find mom, right?”
“We will find your mother, yes.”
“How can you be so sure?” Julie said.
Paul stopped walking.
“We’ve been through this before. I can be sure because I have faith in it. When you have faith in something, it keeps you going. You have to believe, like I do, that your mother is okay. If for one moment I didn’t think that she was okay, we would be hiding inside a house like everyone else around here.”
“It sounds like you’re judging them,” Julie said.
“I’m not,” Paul said. “But you have to remember that we’re not one of them. We’re just passing through.”
“Still sounds like you’re judging them. You know, it’s okay to admit that you like the people here.”
It was mid-afternoon when the trucks arrived at the front gate. David, dutifully on watch as always, heard them roaring down the road from a mile away. He moved swiftly to open both gates and allow them entry. The trucks pulled in and parked to the side of the road. David shut the gates and approached them. The closer he got, the more he could see the extensive damage of dents and bullet holes. As everyone climbed out, David noticed they had less people than before. He felt no pride upon thinking he was right to have been worried. Making peace with the Seventh Order had been a foolish endeavor after all.
“What happened?” he asked with a deadly serious tone.
Townspeople looked out from their windows, taking notice of their return. A dozen or so residents walked out into the street to meet the returning group. Jordan climbed out of the back of the Sheriff’s pickup truck and hopped to the ground. David approached him and asked again what had happened.
“It didn’t go very well,” Jordan answered with his face pale and his eyes solemn.
“The Sheriff can probably tell you more, but they weren’t too happy to see us.”
David peaked into the back of the Sheriff’s truck and saw the shape of a body wrapped in a blue tarp.
“How many did we lose?” he asked Jordan, getting right in his face.
“Five, I think. Six maybe. I don’t know it was all such a blur.”
“People, people, rally around me here,” the Sheriff said stepping away from the trucks and signaling a rallying point with his finger in the air. A concerned group of the townspeople gathered around. Everyone was asking questions. The wife of one of the dead men left back at camp clutched onto Melvin as he exited his truck.
“Where’s Jonathan?” she pleaded.
“Where is he?” Her voice grew more hysterical by the second.
“Their people were angry with us, and they started throwing rocks, and then shots were fired. Jonathan didn’t make it.”
“No, no, no, no. This can’t be happening. No, I don’t believe you!” she screamed out.
She buried her face in Melvin’s work jacket and cried in long and painful bursts. Melvin put his arm around her and rubbed her back.
“I’m sorry, Linda. I really am.”
The Sheriff hobbled onto a pair of steps near the New Haven Park, to address the townspeople. He held a bloodied cloth to his side, and breathed heavily and with great discomfort. Margie had left her house upon hearing all the commotion. She ran over to meet the group and took instant notice of the Sheriff’s condition.
“My God, he’s been hit!” she shouted, pushing her way through everyone.
“Hold on, just one moment. I’ll be fine. I was just grazed, that’s all.”
“It doesn’t look grazed,” Margie replied. “That looks like an open wound.”
“We’ll deal with all of that in a moment. For now, I need to let everyone know what’s going on.”
For Jordan, it was good to see Margie, and at that moment, it struck him how lucky he was to have survived. He looked around curiously for signs of Paul and Julie. They were nowhere to be found. Several people cried as more townspeople left their homes to join the group and find out what had happened. Fortunately, no one then had discovered Alan’s body in the back of the truck. Melvin tried to ensure this by standing carefully by to keep people from looking. He continued to hold Linda in his arms as she cried for her dead husband. Margie placed her arm around the Sheriff to assist him up. She demanded that they get him to a bed, and treat him, but he refused.
“Just let me say my thing. Don’t worry, I got this,” he said.
“Let someone else speak, you’re badly injured,” she said.
“Margie, please,” he responded.
He pushed himself slightly away from her and patted her shoulder.
“People of New Haven, we faced an unfortunate outcome with the Seventh Order. They claim that it was us who attacked them, and that we murdered two of their people without cause or reason.”
“What the fuck?” David shouted out. “They’re liars.”
“They attacked us,” Rob and Carlie said, as they arrived to join the meeting.
The Sheriff waved his hand in the air, dismissing the comments.
“It doesn’t matter anymore. There is absolutely no chance of peace between our two communities. The situation turned badly, rocks were thrown at us, and I believe one of our people fired at them, then a deadly firefight ensued. Sister Bonnie made demands of us that could not have been met. She said their people want New Haven, and that they plan to take it by force. I say this not to scare any of you, but it is the truth. We have lost five more of our people and I refuse to lose a single one more. At this point, we must be prepared a defend ourselves.”
“We’re not soldiers,” a man called out.
“Hell, I’m a schoolteacher,” another man shouted.
Confusion and outcry moved throughout the small crowd. Rob approached the front and stood near the Sheriff.
“Those of you who can help defend the city, we need you. Those who can’t, take the children into the bunkers and lay low.”
The people seemed to be even in more disagreement with Rob’s idea.
“Those bunkers aren’t even finished yet!” a man cried out. “We could suffocate in there,” a woman added.
“All of you better think of something, because when that cult gets here, they’re not going to stop until each and every one of you are dead,” Rob said, pointing at the crowd.
The townspeople quieted. The tension and anxiety they felt had been amplified. The Sheriff leaned to Rob and said in a low voice.
“You’re not helping with remarks like that. I’ll take it from here.”
Rob reluctantly stepped down and went back into the crowd.
“I think what Rob is trying to say is that we must take these people seriously. They will most likely come armed. They will try to get over the gates. On the other hand, heck, they might
not even come here at all. We just have to be prepared and ready.”
“They’re coming here. I know it,” Rob said to Carlie. “I give it a day or two.”
The Sheriff instructed the townspeople to construct sturdier walls around the community.
“Every single entrance point into New Haven must be secured. We only have so much time so let’s get moving—” before he could finish, the Sheriff fell over and collapsed on the ground to the shocked gasps of the crowd.
Margie ran to him and helped him back up.
“We need to get him to a bed immediately,” she cried.
Rob, Carlie, and three other men ran to his aid and helped carry him back to his house. Margie stopped and looked down. The Sheriff’s blood had stained the lower part of her white dress. She wondered how much blood he may already have lost.
“Margie!” Jordan called out.
She looked into the crowd and saw him moving his way toward her.
“Jordan!” she cried.
Jordan ran to her and they threw their arms around each other in a joyful embrace.
“Thank God you’re okay. I feared the worst when the Sheriff said five didn’t make it.”
Jordan squeezed her closer to him.
“I’m not going to let that happen. We’re all going to make it through this. I promise.”
A tear streamed down Margie’s cheek.
“I just don’t know anymore. I’m so sick of the loss of life around us.”
She held tightly onto Jordan as he moved his hand gently across her back.
“Margie, we need to get out of here. We need to leave New Haven,” he said.
“What?” she asked as she lifted her head from his chest.
“I said that we need to get out of here. Paul has a car, and we’re making plans to leave tonight. I want you to come with us, to be a part of our group. I care about you Margie, and I don’t want to leave here without you.”
Margie seemed both alarmed and angered by his proposal. She gently pushed herself away from him as her affectionate eyes turned to stone.
“You’re suggesting that I just leave the people I care about and go on the lam with you? Just turn my back on them and never look back? I love this town; I’m a part of this town. These people need me. How could you even suggest that I would leave them behind?”
Jordan felt the sting of her words and an instant regret for asking her.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest—”
“You and Paul want to leave tonight, that’s fine, but to think that I would leave while people’s lives are in danger and while the Sheriff suffers from a gunshot wound. You’d have to be out of your mind.”
Jordan reached out to touch Margie. She backed away.
“Excuse me,” she said storming off.
Jordan watched her walk away quickly to the Sheriff’s house down the block.
“Fuck…” he said to himself.
Paul was in his room, packing his backpack when Jordan stormed in.
“I thought I’d find you here,” Jordan said. “Where’s Julie?”
Paul looked up from his bed and to Jordan.
“She’s in her room, getting packed. Are you almost ready to go?”
Jordan walked closer to Paul with a gentle tone in his voice.
“Paul, listen. We’ve got problems. I don’t know what to do anymore.”
Paul gave Jordan a perplexing look. He didn’t like what he was hearing.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Paul asked.
“The Sheriff has been shot. Five more people are dead. Thank you for asking how that went, by the way. That cult group unloaded on us, and we’re pretty certain they’re on their way here to finish the job,”
Jordan said, as his voice grew louder.
A banging came across the wall from the room on the other side.
“Stop fighting in there!” Julie shouted.
Jordan lowered his voice.
“Margie is pissed at me. The whole town is losing it. Everything is spiraling out of control.”
Paul looked back down at the bed as he folded one of his shirts.
“More reason to get the hell out of here,” he said.
Jordan paced in a small circle, biting his index fingernail.
“I don’t think I can go.”
Paul’s attention stayed on his folded shirt.
“You do what you feel is necessary, but I’m not waiting any longer.”
Jordan shook his head, turned to the door, and opened it.
“I could have been killed out there while you were here packing, but I guess it’s all the same to you. You have a good trip,” he said as he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Paul walked out of the room to Julie’s.
“Julie, are you almost ready?”
“In a minute,” she said from behind the door.
“I’ll get the car ready,” Paul said.
He walked out of the house and toward the Sheriff’s place with his backpack on his shoulder. It was almost evening and there were several small pockets of people spread about, huddled in secretive talk. The town had an almost eerie feeling to it. Paul had no idea where Jordan went off to, but he was pretty sure that her name started with M. As he walked to the Sheriff’s house, he noticed the garage door had already been open. The Malibu was waiting for him in the Sheriff’s two-car garage, which was littered with tools and old stacks of newspapers. As Paul approached the car, the door into the Sheriff’s house opened revealing Margie, Rob, and Carlie leaving. They stopped when they saw Paul standing nearby. Margie gave Paul a sour look; Rob and Carlie took little care to his presence.
“So I see you’re in a hurry to get out of here,” Margie said.
“You might want to say bye to the Sheriff before you go. He could use some support, you know?”
Paul placed his backpack on the ground.
“I’m sorry to hear about the Sheriff. Is he going to be okay?”
“Why don’t you go ask him yourself?” Margie said.
The three of them walked off, leaving Paul standing in the garage with the Malibu key in his hand.
He walked into the house, wary of receiving any further passive-aggressive behavior. As he made it down the darkened hallway to the Sheriff’s bedroom, he reminded himself of his commitments, all that he had done for the town, and how foolish it was of them to make him feel guilty about wanting to leave. He was going to go in the Sheriff’s room, wish him well then hit the road as planned. He didn’t feel that anything could change his mind. The Sheriff was lying in bed on his back. His clothes had been changed and he had a large gauze bandage wrapped around his stomach. He stared at the ceiling with eyes in deep thought.
“Hi, Sheriff, how are you feeling?” Paul asked.
He glanced to Paul with a slight smile.
“I’m fine. Our adamant town nurse is just making more out of it than it’s worth. I’ll be up and moving around in no time.”
“That’s good, because this town really needs you,” Paul said. He took a seat on a small chair next to the Sheriff’s bed.
“There’s a lot going on unfortunately. We’re preparing for the Seventh Order. I imagine they’ll be here possibly by morning, depending on how angry we made them. Then again, they might not come at all.”
The Sheriff began to cough as he clutched his side in pain.
“You okay?” Paul asked.
“Yeah,” the Sheriff said. “I’m fine. Just hand me that glass of water.”
Paul handed him the water and the Sheriff took a badly needed sip.
“You know, Paul, I’ve been a lot of places and seen a lot of things, but I’ll tell you, the world today, it’s changed so much. I don’t know if I can keep up with it. I mean, it was always a violent world, and after my wife passed away, I didn’t think it was a world worth living in anymore. But this town, these people, they mean everything to me. They’ve given me purpose. If I could end the suffering of this town by allo
wing the Seventh Order to kill me fifty times over, I’d do it.”
“I’m sure everyone would be grateful to hear you say that, but I hardly doubt that’s necessary,” Paul said.
“Yeah,” the Sheriff said, shifting in his bed. “Bad thing is I’m going to have to put the town on lock down.”
“Lock down?” Paul asked.
“Yeah, like a curfew, something to make sure everyone is safely inside their houses. I’ve already discussed it with the town council. No one comes in, no one goes out.”
The Sheriff took notice of Paul’s lack of response and laughed.
“Don’t worry, Paul. It’s not going into effect until you leave. I know you probably want to get out of here.”
“I have to,” Paul said. “I don’t have a choice.”
“Well, better be on your way then. Thanks for doing your part around here,” the Sheriff said holding out his hand.
“No, thank you, Sheriff, for giving us hope,” Paul said.
After a strong handshake, Paul said farewell, and walked to the door.
“Paul,” the Sheriff said.
Paul stopped and turned around.
“You forgot to thank me for the free car too.”
Paul stuttered nervously.
“I. Well I thought. I mean, I was going to return the car to you after we found my wife, I thought that was our understanding.”
The Sheriff laughed again.
“I’m just messing with you. Bring it back in one piece, if you don’t mind.”
Paul thanked the Sheriff again and left him to rest. He knew that they both understood there was a chance that he would never return, but such things were left unsaid. Paul walked out into the garage and put his backpack in the Malibu. He started the engine, just to make sure then turned it off. He looked out into the town from the garage and noticed people hauling boards and materials down the street. They were working together in unison: men, women, and children--young and old. Toward the bunkers, Paul noticed another burial service taking place. This time for Alan, the man who had been shot earlier. Paul remembered him from the first night they arrived in New Haven. He had red hair and glasses and was genuinely a nice guy.
The official New Haven cemetery had been set up near the bunkers, as there were now two bodies buried. Paul watched as a woman placed a 9mm pistol in the hand of little a girl not over ten years old. The woman held the girl while instructing her how to aim and fire. To his surprise, Paul watched as Tommy carried sheets of plywood down the sidewalk to the gates. He coughed along his way, but moved swiftly and without complaints. For the first time in his stay at New Haven, Paul had serious doubts about leaving, at least while they needed help. Jordan came from around the corner and entered the garage carrying his backpack.