Bethany jumped to her feet, screaming, “No!” and arrived at Karl, swinging her arms. The soldiers around stepped forward to intervene, but Karl just smiled, absorbing the punches with feet planted. Her holster was empty, her sheath held no blade. All she had were her fists, and even those tasted sweet to be coming from her.
A voice shouted from the idling Hummer. “What the hell are you all doing?” Liam leaned out the open door. “Let’s get the hell out of here!”
“Indeed, Mister Briggs,” Karl said. “Indeed.”
He grabbed Bethany’s collar and gave her a stiff shove, then issued quick instructions to the men, and everyone dispersed to the vehicles. Karl patted his front pocket for a cigar and found a thin one with a crack down the side, battered from the recent exertion, but still he struck a match. The frayed tobacco sputtered in flame, and after another two matches, he got it burning. He took another from his pocket and offered it to Liam across the opposite seat. With a rumble, the vehicles proceeded away from Hightown.
“Don’t know how you’re so relaxed,” Liam said, slumped in his seat. His face was pale and clammy. The wound in his side was a puncture an inch or so deep, nothing to be concerned about.
“You don’t want it then?”
Liam looked over. “Yeah, give it here. Sir.” He winced as he leaned to take the cigar, one hand holding his side. The roar of the fighter jets reverberated through the cabin of the Hummer. Karl looked at the driver’s side mirror and saw the reflection of fireballs licking at the sky in the distance, far over the trees. Hightown was gone. Alice was gone. What remained of his empire was held together by threads. Back at his home, as the men ran to the vehicles to escape, he’d witnessed the bombs dropped on his warship in the bay. Despite the order to evacuate, the vessel ran into trouble trying to navigate out of the shallow waters, and it was bombarded with a full crew of men.
“How many escaped Hightown?” he asked Liam.
“I … don’t know, sir. Not many.”
“If you had to guess.”
“Maybe, I don’t know … a hundred, two hundred, tops. Some are radioing in. The ones with vehicles should manage to flee. The ones on foot, there’s nothing to be done. They’ll most likely be rounded up.”
“Did they rebel, like down in Alice?”
Liam cleared his throat. “Y-yes, sir. There were reports of aggression in the warehouses. Word of Alice’s mutiny spread, and limited radio broadcasts reached the men before we cut the lines. They were offered amnesty if they took up arms against those loyal to our brotherhood. And just now, while you were dealing with Albert Driscoll, the men fleeing the eastern line came up against General Ubel and the soldiers from Louisiana. They’ve turned on us, as expected.”
“The colonies will never offer them redemption. It’s a ruse.”
Liam shrugged.
Karl watched the landscape flow by out the window, and gazed at the flames in the rear window reflection. He inhaled and exhaled.
“What’s the plan when we get to Odyssey, sir?” Liam asked. “How are we going to regroup?”
The smoke felt good in Karl’s lungs—hot, stinging. He wished he had a taste of whiskey to further the burn.
Liam didn’t repeat his question. Instead, they sat in silence. After a pause, Karl said, “We’re not going to Odyssey, Mister Briggs. By my estimations, the colonies will be marching to their gates next.”
“Where do you aim to take us?”
Karl let an exhale of smoke drift from his lips, then leaned forward and told the driver the new destination.
“Should we radio for the soldiers in Odyssey to depart?”
Karl exhaled a cloud of smoke. “No,” he said. “And the others who are fleeing Hightown, don’t mention a word. They’ll be followed. Let the colonies think that all who remain are in Odyssey.”
A flutter of ash flew backward into the trunk of the Hummer. He looked back. “Sorry, my dear,” he said to Bethany. Her wrists were bound. Her ankles too. A gag was tied tight in her mouth. He would reward the soldiers who’d captured her. He would honor the few who remained loyal.
Chapter Forty-Three
Someday Soon
With Connor and Winston at her side, Carolanne watched the lone troop transport return. A stab of pain struck her heart, and then a deep foreboding as one solitary man stepped out from the driver’s side door. She waited for the other transports to appear, but they didn’t. A small hand gripped her own.
Jeremy and two officers spoke to the man who returned, and a medic looked him over, despite being waved away. Her eyes were already tearing as she approached him. Once the officers broke off their conversation, the soldier caught her eyes and a look of distress crossed his expression.
“I’m sorry,” was all he said, and Carolanne understood. She’d understood before Brian had returned from capture. She knew it after the first battle in Alice. It was the way he talked, the sound of his voice, the distress in his eyes. A part of him died back in Nick’s mansion when Steven expired in his arms.
She wiped her cheeks and asked, “How did it happen?”
The soldier told her a rushed tale and what he knew of Brian’s death. “It appeared to be quick, if that brings you any relief.” He bit his lip and then added, “I’d imagine that it doesn’t.”
“And Beth? Simon? Where’s Uncle Al?”
“Beth … I don’t know. Our guess is that Karl has her. Simon is following them. I tried to go with him, but he wouldn’t have it. Albert Driscoll … he didn’t make it.”
She shook her head. “It was all in vain. Brian died for nothing.”
Sam had no reply.
***
The dead were interred in a field outside of Alice, where the soil was soft and easy to dig. The orderly fashion of the colonies working in unison was staggering. In preparation for casualties, long trenches were dug before the bodies arrived, and each was lowered in turn as soldiers kept inventory. The casualty rate was far less than estimated, as the air support doled out heavy losses against the Red Hands and caused them to fight among each other, toppling Karl’s reign. In the end, his own men brought about his decline, and they slaughtered each other in brutal fashion, burning much of Alice during their hostilities. An unexpected mass exodus followed in Hightown, and those who fled were being rounded up as they headed west toward Odyssey.
The graves were to be used for fallen allies only. The corpses of the Red Hands were left where they fell. It was still under consideration whether Alice was too heavily damaged to repopulate. If the colony was to be abandoned, the town would serve as an open-air tomb for Karl’s fallen army. It was declared by the officers that none of the deceased would be brought back to California, Texas, or Albuquerque. This was true for officers as well, and the corpse of Nelson Barnett was found, along with Richard Jarrett and Casey Edmunds. They were lowered in the pit unceremoniously as a man in fatigues wrote their names in a ledger and inscribed their numbers from ID tags.
Despite Carolanne telling Connor that he didn’t have to witness Brian’s burial, the boy was adamant that he be there. However, once they reached the field, she wished that she’d been more insistent he stay behind. The sight was horrific, despite the small number of casualties, and the smell worse. Rigor mortis. Severed limbs. Decapitations.
Winston’s ears perked up as they neared the grave, and his nose wrinkled. Connor called his attention. “No, boy,” he said. “Stay with me.”
She asked Connor, “Are you all right? You don’t have to stay.”
The boy answered, “I’m fine,” despite a waver in his voice.
The residents of Alice did not use ID tags, nor did the non-military personnel or the citizens who joined the colonies after their inception. When Brian’s body was brought to the grave, the soldier marked his name in the ledger, and the pallbearers—who wore dark green, rubber coveralls—paused before the pit when they saw the waiting party. They lowered the stretcher to the ground and walked away, making brief eye contact with Ca
rolanne as they offered a thin smile.
Brian looked much the same in death as he did in life, despite the ashen color of his skin and the layer of grit on his face.
When Carolanne fell to her knees beside him, Connor rushed to her side. The colonies were moving out in twenty minutes. She had to say goodbye to everything she had once held dear, her loved ones, a home, an actual life. This was the world she lived in—one of constant heartache, infinite battles, strife.
She brought along a cloth and a canteen of water and washed away the dirt on Brian’s skin with trembling hands. Then she combed back his matted brown hair. Her fingers touched his handsome face, his muscular arms. The world would never change, and the fault did not lie on Karl Metzger’s shoulders alone. Each survivor of this new dawn moved within the circle of violence. The public execution of Nicholas Byrnes. The roundup of the Dragoons, all strung up by their necks. The dozens, perhaps hundreds of surrendering Red Hands who stumbled out of Hightown, injured, surrendering—murdered.
She carried the helpless feeling of loss in her belly like a rotten meal, a terrible rock in the pit of her stomach. The military precision of the colonies was just as much to blame for the eternal war as the enemy. Someday soon, there would be no one left to kill their fellow man. Someday soon, humanity would perish. Kneeling there beside her beloved Brian, it was impossible to foresee a future in which the human animal would crawl out from under its rock of ignorance. After the last battle, when Brian returned from the fight on Nick’s lawn alive and healthy, she believed that a day would come when hostilities would cease. She believed that someday soon, peace would prevail and wars would end. Now, she wasn’t so sure.
It seemed like she was there for only a minute or two when shrill whistles cut through the air. The burial crew tasked with filling in the graves were nearing the spot where she knelt.
Carolanne stepped away and looked over at Connor, who was doing his best to hold back sobs, yet tears streamed down his face as he kept one hand on Winston’s back. She put a hand over the young boy’s shoulder, pulling him to her side, and said out loud, “Goodbye, Brian,” but the words carried more weight than a simple message. She was saying goodbye to her love, her home, the life she once knew.
Chapter Forty-Four
Ten Gallons
The knife wound on Liam’s side wasn’t as bad as the man was making it out to be. A scratch. A superficial puncture that bled more than it warranted.
“Never been stabbed,” he said. “Shot twice, but never stabbed.” He kept pressure on the bandage beneath his fatigues. “Hurts like the devil.”
Miles passed, and with them Karl smoked a cigar and didn’t utter a word. He sat in the back seat, Liam at his side, moaning and going on about his wound. The driver and passenger said nothing, which was the smart thing to do. Karl felt their questions in the silence: How many of their people survived? Did he think the colonies were going to go after the small remaining settlements? Was it all lost; should they give up now and hope to keep their lives? Should they disband and scatter in the wild? What would they do … what would they do—what would they do?
He couldn’t rightfully answer.
The world … I had it. I held it in my hands.
As far as surviving, Karl had little concern. He’d been through hell and back, his body torn, burned, blown up. He would survive. As far as a plan to keep what remained of his army running like it had before … impossible. How the hell did the colonies get fighter jets? The defenses of Alice and Hightown, once thought to be impressive, did not have the slightest notion of opposing high-altitude aircraft.
An hour passed in silence. Numbers went through Karl’s mind. Numbers, tallies, strategies. First thing first, he must remain in the present moment and deal with their current situation. Mustering what remained of his men required his survival over all others, and in order to survive, they had a long drive ahead of them, and with that came the urgency of fuel.
“How much fuel we got in reserves?” he said to no one in particular. The three men were taken aback by the break to the silence, and the driver cleared his throat. “Got pretty much a full tank now, two full five-gallon canisters, and a few empty cans if we come to some fuel.”
“Come to some fuel?” His voice rose. “We just left a fucking city of fuel, and you didn’t think to bring as much as we could carry? Empty cans?”
“S-sir,” the driver stuttered. “It was, I … I didn’t get the fuel, sir. We thought we were going to Odyssey. Brought more than enough to get us there.”
Karl rubbed the bridge of his nose and looked at the back of the man’s head. “It’s Jacob, right?” he asked.
The driver nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Do the other vehicles have the same amount of fuel onboard?”
“Um, yes, sir. By my reckoning.”
Karl spied Jacob’s messy nest of hair. He fought the compulsion to shoot him right then and there. “Pull over,” he said. “Order the others to pull over.”
There was a pause, and Karl said, “What the fuck are you waiting for?”
“Yes, sir.”
The order was relayed over the radio, and the driver navigated to the side of the road. Karl gave them a rushed plan and said, “We have to be quick about it.” The driver and passenger exchanged worried glances. “You want to survive?” Karl asked.
The passenger replied, “Yes. Of course, sir. We’re ready.”
The doors opened and the men got out. Liam stood hunched over, holding his wound, and called out, “Out of the vehicles! Let’s go! Hurry up!” He separated them into two groups.
Doors opened on the idling trucks and Hummers. The men in the beds of the pickups stayed where they were.
“You too, all of you!” Liam yelled, organizing them out of the vehicles. “We need a head count and inventory. General Metzger has something to tell you, so line up!”
The men did as instructed. There weren’t many of them. Out of Karl’s army of thousands, he now had a lousy string of miserable eyes waiting upon his words. He stood before them, patting his pocket for a cigar, then realizing he didn’t have any left.
“All right,” he said to Liam, “let’s get on with it.”
Liam raised his machine gun, and so did Karl, Jacob, and the passenger. The gunfire tore into the confused faces like a tsunami over ants. A few attempted to run or aim their rifles, but the automatic fire cut them down in a matter of seconds. Alive and then dead. Just like that. One half had been spared, the group on the left, who were aiming their rifles back and forth between Karl and their dead compatriots.
“As you can see,” Karl said to the group on the left, “you’ve been spared. We now have enough resources to see us to our destination, so be thankful that you were standing on the correct side.”
Everyone looked down at the bodies. Some moved, twitched, made gurgling noises. “Start siphoning the fuel,” Karl said. “Gather their weapons, and see if any of them got tobacco. Be quick about it.” He started walking back to his waiting Hummer, but then paused and turned. “Remember,” he said, staring at Jacob and the passenger. “This wouldn’t have happened if you’d brought enough fuel.” Then he turned, opened the rear door, and got in. As he’d fired his own gun at his men, his eyes looked to his side, to Jacob. The man had not pulled the trigger. He aimed his gun, but he didn’t fire a shot.
Karl rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. He’d deal with Jacob later.
“Ahh,” he said, and turned to Bethany in the trunk, her puffy eyes opened to slits. “I’ll get you home in due time. Don’t you worry.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Shadow Pursuit
The receiver volume on the console was set as low as possible. Simon wanted silence. He needed to absorb solitude, let the wind rushing in through the open window wash away the streaming chain of negative thoughts and emotions coursing through his mind. When he first began his pursuit, a familiar voice spoke over the airwaves, calling his name. It was Jeremy, imploring him
not to follow Karl into Odyssey. The town would be decimated, he warned. There was no emotional connection and little strategic value in perhaps one day rebuilding Odyssey. It would be burned to the ground, the ashes bombed to dust, the dust ground to powder. The same was true for Karl’s other settlements, the recently discovered docks, and the prison in Texas.
Drones had inspected the docks and, finding it lightly guarded, the warplanes alone dealt with the area as the ground army prepared to march to Odyssey. As the planes soared overhead, the enemies on the ground fell back into the ships, all of which were monitored by the small drones. The jets destroyed the ships in the harbor before they managed to fire off any large munitions in defense, and they now lay at the bottom of the sea.
Simon told Jeremy to scratch Winston’s head for him and to help console Carolanne, and that this time his decision could not be swayed. He was going to face Karl alone, how it should have been done since the beginning. Use stealth and clarity, not direct force. Reluctantly, Jeremy wished him good luck.
And then a feeling came rushing over Simon. Deep anguish, loss and guilt. The death of the Rangers who tried and failed to free Uncle Al. Bethany, captured. Brian, who had fought at his side and helped him retake Alice in the battle on Nick Byrnes’ lawn. Alice’s collapse, the failure of everything he had traveled so far to attain when leaving the cabin deep in the woods of British Columbia. It seemed like another lifetime. The cabin. Alone with Winston, losing his mind during the heavy snowfalls, aching for his parents, his brother. Then that night when he went to his truck and found the pictures of his family and ran out into the snow, howling mad in despair, only to come face to face with a moose who reared in surprise, snorting plumes of steam into the moonlight.
Did it really happen?
All he wanted was to find home, find his parents, his old bedroom … but it was gone. His youth was erased. Alice took its place, and his purpose in life became scouting forays and teaching the citizens tidbits of survival training. It occupied his thoughts. Bethany occupied more. She overwhelmed his desire. She became the life he was longing to find, and together in Alice, his happiness increased.
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