And now Alice was gone. Smoke and rubble, the gardens burnt. His life taken from him again, his friends killed. So many people dead or in despair, and this time, the disease wasn’t to blame. The fault lay on one pair of shoulders, one man—Karl Metzger. The sound of his name caused anger to flash through Simon’s veins in hot pulses.
War would never end, it seemed. What the disease did not erase, the remainder of humanity would attempt to destroy. Was there an answer to this? Was there a way out, a new method of governing, a bright ideology? Simon didn’t think so. Perhaps future generations, but he knew that future generations learned from the old ones. Why was fighting so deeply engrained in the human psyche, to allow one person to commit barbarities and atrocities against another? Was it so tightly woven in our genetic code, that to be without war would spawn the next step in human evolution? Perhaps someday soon, but certainly not in his lifetime.
Simon didn’t have the answer for any of these thoughts. They had been debated for centuries by brighter minds than his own, with no solutions to be found. For now, he had to deal with the present moment, stay focused, feel the wind blowing in through the window, watch the pavement flowing by under the tires.
A map lay unfolded on the passenger seat. Simon glanced over, half expecting to see Winston in his rightful place beside him, and his heart ached to scratch the happy panting face of his old dog. But instead, he studied the map during long stretches of the drive, and examined the positioning of abandoned vehicles. It was not unlike stalking a deer and inspecting the brush for indications of an animal’s trail: a snapped twig, disturbed leaves. During the first two years of human inactivity on the roads, weeds had sprung wild in every crack and vined out over long stretches. Those first plants died with the seasons, and their residues formed thin layers of soil, hastened by mosses and fungi, over the pavement. Interstates became camouflaged back into grassy fields, and difficult to decipher if not for the rusting shells of cars and buses. Karl’s retreating Hummers and pickup trucks left trampled turf, bent grasses, broken vines, and automobiles nudged out of their way. Much the same as the tracks an animal leaves in the wild, but on a larger scale, and easier to detect.
He was on the right track. A few miles behind, he judged, since they would stop for longer periods as they navigated the terrain and moved stalled vehicles and rubble. It was critical to remain just out of sight, make sure he didn’t advance too quickly. If he were to be seen, then his pursuit would be futile. He wouldn’t stand a chance taking them on face-to-face. He kept a slow enough pace to not worry about catching up. At times, he had to park and get out, inspect the terrain close up to follow the tracks.
If he was going to eliminate the Red Hands and take Bethany home, he would become a shadow. If he wanted his life to have purpose, he would remain vigilant. Flashes of what could happen crossed his mind: him and Bethany tending a garden. Him and Bethany waking up together, unhindered by the awful stress and strain of warfare. The two of them keeping warm by a fire on a cold night, Winston curled at their feet in blissful content. Teaching Connor how to hunt with a spear, stalk and survive, so that the boy could one day pass the teachings on to future generations. Help the child deal with his mental state after the countless deaths he’d been forced to witness. Romantic, idealistic raptures. It was possible, though. But to achieve happiness, he would have to abandon all prior notions of what home was, of what it could be.
With her, it could be anywhere.
With her, he could find comfort on a rock.
With her, the terrible cycle of violence could cease.
They could live in peace.
But first, he had to get her …
… and to do that, he must kill Karl Metzger.
Chapter Forty-Six
Jackknife
Karl never thought he’d miss the words of a holy man, but his mood was brightened imagining the throaty tunes of Priest Dietrich singing out over the troops in hymnal battle song. These thoughts lasted mere moments, as he knew he would never hear his psalms sung again. Never witness the apocalyptic form of his army marching to its tune, singing and mumbling along like summoned ghosts from the rocky deserts they trod and defiled.
It was over.
Out of the carload, the only one he could trust was Liam, who had the opportunity to take control of the Red Hands back when Karl was presumed dead after the first battle in Alice and failed to act. Liam would live and die at his side. Their fates were intertwined, to live and fight together, forever. The rest of them, not so much. Their loyalty extended to the amount of food Karl held in the palm of his hand. Once empty, they bit. Once threatened, they rebelled.
“How are we in terms of supplies?” he asked Liam, snapping the man out of a daydream.
“Ah, um, to what regard?”
“Food. Water.”
Liam thought for a moment, then said, “Let me call it in. Numbers might have altered since the last report.”
“Sir,” Liam said. “Can I speak frankly?” His voice was meek.
“Of course.”
“What is it, sir … about her?” He motioned his head toward the trunk.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve never seen you enchanted by anything other than the pressing need to further the gains of the men, to conquer new territories and expand our growth. The same with her uncle. I’ve never seen you so possessive over anything other than food, water, whiskey, and tobacco.”
Normally, Karl would not let the conversation proceed. All Liam had to know was where to march and when to gather the troops. But with a new survival tactic came a change of persona, perhaps, and Karl nodded for him to continue.
“I mean,” Liam continued, “back in Hightown, our remaining men followed their escape rather than flee as the bombs fell. Then when you saw her, Albert Driscoll became dispensable. In all of our time together, you’ve never … I mean, I never saw you so passionate. Is it … because of the other one? The girl you told me about, years ago?”
Karl digested what he’d just heard and disregarded the mentioning of the other girl. He had told Liam of her in folly on one drunken night, camped out on a prairie far away. She belonged to another lifetime, his youth, a world that no longer existed, and he tried not to dwell in the past.
He told Liam, “I don’t know what it is about her.” But his actual thought was that prior to Bethany, all his desires remained in the compulsion for gain, land, and goods—survival. He wanted the world, and he wanted it served on a silver platter for him to devour at will. General Driscoll was part of that world. The man had been allowed to live under Karl’s authority. But the general was not a proper trophy. He was not a real plaything. Bethany’s spell had pervaded the depths of his imagination. Back when he was in the clutches of Doctor Freeman, in his labyrinth underground, drugged and injured, it was the image of her that stoked fire in his heart. It pushed him to press on, to demand the loyalty of the dockworkers and fight to conquer both Hightown and Alice. What he did not realize until he had her in his possession was that the distress over losing his army, his command, was curtailed. With her the world was his own. She was, in essence, the final victory he’d been longing for.
***
The miles passed swiftly despite the inhospitable condition of the roads, with some grown so wild it was easier to drive off the pavement. They shared ration bars and water, which they had plenty of. Karl loosened Bethany’s gag and put a bar in her bound hands, but she didn’t budge to take a bite. Not even a sip of water. She lay there as if dead. He would revive her spirits when they were alone and at home together. There, he would work on rehabilitating her attitude.
They stopped twice to fill the gas tanks, and with each stop the men got out to urinate beside the vehicles. The men in the pickup truck also took the opportunity to stretch and refuel. Karl again offered Bethany a chance to relieve herself, but she didn’t respond when asked. If it wasn’t for the occasional blinking and the movement of her chest as she breathed, he would have
checked her pulse.
The high-calorie survival bar that he gave her dropped to the bed of the trunk. He picked it up and took a bite, noticing that she was lying in a pool of urine. The bar had grown dryer, brittle, closer to a solid chunk of flavorless wood.
They drove all through the night, stopping occasionally to navigate troublesome terrain. Communications came over the radio, but they were few and far between, not the constant clatter that had once come from commanding thousands of troops. Karl closed his eyes and let the vibration from the truck lull him into the deep realm of fantastical dreams, some pleasant, many not.
He awoke with a start, realizing at once where he was, and fearing the blade of his men to challenge his command. They were stopped, and the driver and passenger were outside refueling.
“Where are we?” Karl asked Liam, who appeared to be awake despite his closed eyes.
The man cracked a smile. “Close,” he said. “Two miles back we turned off Interstate Forty.”
“You don’t say?” This was good news. If they continued on Forty, it would bring them closer to Odyssey. This crossroads of sorts was now pointing them farther southwest. The trunk had been opened for Bethany to get out to relieve herself, but she stayed inside.
Karl and Liam opened the rear doors and stretched. “She hasn’t said a word,” Karl said.
Liam shrugged. “Got nothin’ to say.”
They walked off to urinate by the side of the road, and when they returned, Jacob was at the trunk. Although it was hard to see from his distance, Bethany’s mouth was moving. Jacob closed the trunk, made quick eye contact with Karl, and went back to the driver’s side. His cheeks were crimson.
Karl hummed a nameless tune and returned to his seat. They drove off with Karl tapping his knee, his eyes going back and forth between Jacob in the driver’s seat and the rearview mirror, where he could almost see the side of Bethany in the back.
A few miles went by, and beneath the loud rumble of the truck he whispered to Liam, who was falling asleep. “Listen,” he said, “I’ve been thinking that it’s perhaps time for us to change tactics to ensure our continued survival.”
Liam’s eyes opened. Karl leaned in and spoke a confided plan. After a moment, Liam said, “All right.”
Karl never took his eyes off Jacob and the rearview mirror, and when another ten miles went by, Liam spoke to the car, “Gotta take a leak again. Pull over.”
They relayed the message to the pickup truck, and the Hummer came to a stop. Jacob and the passenger stayed in their seats.
“I might as well go too, while we’re stopped,” Karl said, opening his door. “Top the fuel off.”
“Sir,” the passenger said. “We filled the tank last stop. We’re still full.”
“Let’s keep it that way. We’re pulled over, so top the tank off. Both of you.”
Jacob and the passenger exchanged glances, then they turned off the engine and opened their doors. Karl stretched in the brilliant daylight. There was a slight chill that felt wonderful. He opened the trunk, looking down at Bethany with a wide smile. She looked tiny, disheveled. “Go on and relieve yourself.” Karl looked around at the expansive and overgrown fields on either side and added, “There’s nowhere to run. We’ll give you privacy.”
He walked near where Liam stood on the side of the road. “Mister Briggs,” he said. “I believe my presumptions are correct. But even if they’re not, it is still the best course of action. You and I,” he said, tightening his belt, then motioning to Liam and himself, “are the only ones who can trust each other.”
“Yes, sir. I agree.”
With that, they turned to the Hummer. Karl eyed the two soldiers standing beside the trunk, the passenger holding the bright red container. “Ready, Mister Briggs?”
“I follow your lead, sir.”
Karl flashed his wide set of teeth at the two soldiers and said, “We’re making good progress.”
“Yes, sir,” the passenger said. They’d finished refueling the tank and were strapping the fuel to the roof.
Liam walked to the pickup truck as the men climbed back aboard. He leaned into the driver’s side window, and a moment later, the truck made a turn in the road and headed back to Interstate Forty, and to Odyssey beyond, where Liam had ordered them to travel.
“Where the hell are they going?” Jacob asked, looking at the leaving truck.
“I sent them on a task,” Karl said, issuing another smile. “It’s of no consequence.”
Jacob swallowed visibly and exchanged a quick glance with Karl. In that fraction of a moment, each man understood the other’s ambitions without speaking a word.
Liam swung his rifle up first, and Jacob and Karl were fast to unholster their sidearms.
All three men pulled their triggers. The passenger flinched and grabbed his rifle, but a bullet struck his torso, and he fell over fast and hard. Jacob managed two shots until a bullet pierced his chest and he spun to land facedown in the dusty road, his pistol falling from his grip.
Karl reholstered his firearm, all while whistling a tune.
“Fuck,” Liam said with a grunt. “The fucker got me!” Karl looked at his lieutenant standing behind him. The man grabbed at his bicep, thick red emerging between his fingers, and more red spreading from his thigh.
Karl walked toward him and caught his lieutenant as he stumbled to his knees. “Let’s get you to the Hummer,” he said.
“Shit,” Liam said. “Hurts something fierce.” He hobbled on one leg as Karl held his shoulder.
He was helped into the passenger seat, and Karl grabbed a medical kit. “Start bandaging,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
Jacob was still alive, moaning and moving. Before dealing with him, Karl went to the trunk. Bethany’s eyes were large, her mouth in a grimace. She leaped forward like a jack-in-the-box, a folding knife in her hand, the small blade reflecting the sunlight. Her ankles were still bound, but she’d managed to cut the ropes from her raw wrists.
Karl was not surprised by the attack, and he stepped back fast. After hours of being tied in the trunk, her muscles had fatigued, and her movements were slow. Karl leveled his fist and struck a quick blow to her face. She fell backward, and the knife dropped from her hand. Blood emerged from her nose, and her eyes teared up as she covered her face.
“Now, now,” he said. “It will be all right. It’s not broken; I would have felt the bone snap.”
“F-fuck you,” she said. Then louder, “Fuck you!”
“In due time, my dear.” He retied her wrists, pulling the cord tight. Blood trailed down her cheek as he slammed the trunk shut, cutting off another “Fuck y—”
He turned to Jacob. “Not yet expired, I see.” He pushed the man onto his back with the heel of his boot. Jacob groaned, his hands over a deep wound on his chest. Blood trickled from his lips and he coughed a deep, fluid-filled rattle.
“I’m disappointed, my boy. I had hope in you. But you’re a special type of stupid, aren’t you? You shot my best officer. Twice.” Karl shook his head.
Jacob didn’t reply.
“Did you really think she’d slice my throat with that little toy of a knife? Then what? You two would ride off into the sunset?”
Jacob looked into his eyes. Then he laughed a low and trembling laugh. “It’s o-over, Karl. It’s all over.”
“For you, yes. But I’m still standing.”
Jacob shook his head, coughed again, and struggled to inhale. Then he said, “Death will find you. It’s a matter of time, a-and you’ve r-run out of t-time. We-we all h-have …”
Karl unsheathed his combat knife. “No, my boy. I do not think so.”
He swiped the blade across Jacob’s throat and walked toward the front of the Hummer.
“It’s been a while since I’ve driven, Mister Briggs. How is your wound? Did the bullet hit bone?”
Liam sat in the passenger seat, a mess of bloody bandages on his lap and around his feet. “N-no,” he said, struggling to wrap a strip
of gauze around his arm, where it quickly became red. He was sweating, pale.
“Here,” Karl said. “Let me help you.” He took the medical bag and removed more gauze and duct tape. The bullet hole in Liam’s arm went straight through the fleshy part. It was nothing serious. Karl cut away the material on his leg, and Liam let out a wail. “Easy now,” Karl said, inspecting the damage. The bullet appeared to still be lodged somewhere near his groin. “Not so bad,” he lied. “Barely bleeding.”
“I-it’s near the artery. Shit, I can feel the son of a bitch in there.” Liam gritted his teeth, his skin blanched. He reclined his seat to lying down, and Karl secured a bandage as best he could, with Liam hollering in pain and squirming in the seat. After he wound enough duct tape to hold the gauze, he started the ignition.
“Thank you, sir,” Liam said, his eyelids heavy.
“From now on, you address me as Karl.”
“Yes, sir,” Liam said, and then scratched at his beard with his good hand, seemingly puzzled on how to do this.
Karl took the radio off the receiver and called his men in Odyssey. He reported that they should await his arrival and defend the town from the reckless force of the invaders who were fast at their heels. He explained that the colonies were set to slaughter them all, so they had to fight like their lives were on the line, because they truly were. He knew many would flee. But that was of no consequence as they drove onward, a half day’s ride away from their destination.
“Hold tight, dear,” Karl yelled back to the trunk. “Tonight, we dine waterside.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Beacon
The recent mass execution on the side of the road was a sure indication that Simon was on the correct path. His first thought was that a brigade from the colonies had caught up to the fleeing Red Hands, but after calling it in on the radio, he learned they had nothing to do with the carnage. This brought on a strange and sudden emotion, the realization that he was all alone, away from the others, and that he was vulnerable. He was reminded of his trip from British Columbia to Alice, and the sensation that he was a tiny speck upon an earth covered by a crushing, dark force was troublesome.
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