“Oh Jenny this is perfect!” Lenora said. “If there’s a metal shop here it will have all the tools I need.”
“What’s that?”
“It would have a lot of machines, maybe a car, metal…”
“There is! It’s back on the first floor.”
She led them back down the staircase and into a large bay that held a number of silenced machines. Her teachers had told her people had learned to work on machines and metal here, and at the time she’d wondered where those people had gone, but now she knew. The New States wouldn’t let them exist any longer. They’d been taken away like her grandfather, jailed for trying to help rebuild in a way that would hurt the New States’ government.
George set his candle down on a workbench with a number of pen-like instruments mounted on a table underneath a large metal hood.
“Mom, there are irons here! We’ve got everything we need. Look there’s even wire,” George said, holding up a box filled with squiggles of black and red.
“Will this work?” Jenny asked.
George grinned for the first time since Aiden died, then he took two steps and threw his arms around her. He felt so strong and happy, she hugged him back and felt herself stirring against him. She pulled away, fighting the emotions tumbling inside her. “Is there anything else you’ll need?”
“It’s perfect! Once we get our crank generator from my pack set up we’ll be ready to go.”
“Good,” she smiled, but now came the part of her plan she hadn’t been able to tell them about.
She wondered how George would take it, and thought about not telling him at all, just disappearing, but she was stronger now.
“George, I need to leave you here. I’ve got to go and save my grandfather.”
A blank look went across George’s face, unsure what to say. He stalked along beside her as she walked through the school’s gloom.
“Jenny please don’t do this,” he said.
“I have to. I can’t let anyone else get hurt because of me.”
“But you could wait until we get more help! My mom may have already fixed the radio.”
“I know, but I can’t wait any longer. I just know they’re not going to give him much time.”
“And what if I said I was coming with you?” George asked.
She smiled.
“I’d say you were stubborn, and I’d sneak out when you weren’t looking.”
George laughed in spite of himself.
“I’d do the same,” he said.
“I know you would, but we both know you need to be with your mom right now. I can move quicker through the city on my own anyway.”
They reached the entrance. When she turned and tried to think of something to say he pulled her close and pressed his lips against hers. She felt herself melting into him, exploring the softness of his lips. His hands pressed against her back, then rose to run through her hair. Her breath came faster and faster and she gasped against his throat. She wanted to feel so much more, but the thought of her grandfather in prison finally pulled her away.
“I have to go George,” she said, breathless.
“Let me come with you,” he said.
“I can’t. I couldn’t bear to see you hurt,” she said.
“And what happens to me if you get hurt?”
She looked at him, struggling for words.
“You’ll be strong like you always are George, but I’ll come back to you.”
Then she was off into the day, praying she’d stay unseen in the middle of a forgotten city, praying she’d see George again while her whole body still thrummed with his touch.
***
George could hear the radio’s crackle from down the hall. He felt impossibly light, but agonized at the same time; the excitement of his kiss with Jenny mixed with the sadness about his father and his concern for her. He couldn’t wait to see her again, and he felt almost sick at how much danger she was walking into.
A voice burst through the radio speaker as he entered the metal shop.
“…about ten hours.”
“Can you expedite the train?” another voice asked.
“That train’s carrying a tank brigade Linden. If it goes any faster, it’ll derail on one of those rickety bridges that need replacing.”
“All right, all right. I appreciate whatever speed you can give me. I’m telling the people about Williams tomorrow. They’ll welcome the army with open arms after that.”
“Excellent. Good night Linden.”
“Good night sir.”
“What was that?” George whispered.
Lenora turned as pale as a sheet. Doc Stinson looked like he wanted to be sick.
“The New States are sending tanks to New Louisville. A brigade is typically at least a thousand men.”
“Have we called for help?”
“Yes. There are a hundred U.S. Marines coming down the river by barge from Pittsburgh. It will be at least a week until they’re here. They could get as far as Washington in two days. We’re…we’ve lost.”
“We need to warn Washington, and New Louisville!” George cried.
“George,” Lenora said. “I already have. There isn’t going to be enough time to do anything. They’re going to cut us in half. Forget being outnumbered, they have tanks!”
Thoughts flashed through his head. Jenny was rushing into a city that was already flooded with soldiers, and it was about to get a lot more dangerous for her. If by some miracle the marines arrived in time, it would still be a hundred marines against a brigade of over a thousand with an arsenal of tanks. Louisville was lost. Everything in him screamed that they had to retreat and live to fight another day, but this was Jenny’s town. He had to help them.
“I know what to do,” he said, and slung his pack onto his back. He hugged his mom firmly, then turned for the door.
“George,” Lenora said, “George come back here. Where are you going?”
“Dad always said that a smaller force needs initiative. If we sit here, we let them do what they want. We need to take the initiative. I’m going to blow up that rail bridge and take the fight to them. If they make it to town, we don’t have any chance.”
He could see his mother wrestling with her emotions; pride at his forethought, and fear over losing him. Then she nodded. There was no other choice.
“You are your father’s son,” she said. “Be strong George.”
Chapter Fifteen
The morning of Richard’s execution, Linden rode a barrel cart through the city with five of his boys. The plan was to bring Williams to the fairgrounds as they used to do in medieval times, standing in chains. Linden wanted it to be a spectacle, something the townsfolk would remember. The thought of moving him in such a way excited him.
Townspeople were already starting to gather along the corners. They seemed slack-shouldered, downtrodden. They were afraid, and with good reason, but fear was a great motivator. It turned your mind to defense and supporting your military.
His driver halted the cart in front of the sheriff’s office. His men pounded on the door, but no one answered.
“Knock again,” he said
One of his men drew his pistol and tapped the metal with the pistol butt. The door swung open, revealing one of the yawning Texans that had stood watch that night.
“What are you doing answering the door?” Linden asked. “I asked the sheriff to stay here with you.”
“The sheriff never showed.”
“What? Where is he?”
“He resigned,” a voice from behind the guard called. It was the Johnson kid, looking puffy with lack of sleep.
“And how do you know?” he asked.
“Because he came by and said he couldn’t be a part of this.”
Linden considered what the boy had said.
“And what about you Jake?”
“I want to keep my people safe,” Jacob said. “That’s what the New States does.”
“Well then son, you may have found you
rself a new career. Now let’s get the accused.”
Inside the jail, he found Richard sitting calmly on his cell’s bed.
“Not the kind to provide a last meal, are you Assemblyman?” Richard said.
“Put him in the cart,” Linden answered. Jacob unlocked the cell and two Texans stepped inside, handcuffed Richard, and led the prisoner out to the cart.
“It’s been good to know you Jim,” Richard called over his shoulder.
“Likewise,” the mayor answered. Linden saw the boy staring at the mayor, and saw him waver.
“Move along Johnson,” he said to the boy, and Jacob left the room. Then he stepped closer to the bars, savoring the look that crossed the mayor’s face.
“It’s not going to work,” the mayor called, “these people won’t buy what you’re selling.”
“Your mistake was thinking you ever had any choice,” Linden hissed back.
Outside the sheriff’s office, a large crowd stood mostly silent. The criminal proceedings he was used to in Texas were rowdy affairs where the people pelted the guilty party with rotting food and excrement. New Louisville was eerily still, and as he scanned the people’s faces, Linden worried that something in their mood seemed off. Then again, perhaps they just didn’t know how to react; they had never experienced the public execution of a traitor.
The cart wound toward the fairgrounds where he’d first seen the whole of this miserable town gathered. A few hundred citizens milled on the grass, unsure of what to do. There were always those that came for the gruesome aspect, but the rest seemed tense. He himself still felt light, agreeable. A life was a life, but as a symbol of United States treachery, it would become so much more.
“Was it all worth it?” he asked Richard. “Hoarding those antiques? Poisoning the mind of a young girl?”
“Is lying to a country worth it?” Richard answered.
“You should know that you’ve given me the means Richard,” Linden whispered. “I need to thank you well and truly.”
The gallows stood blunt and foreboding as they neared the damaged stage. It was designed so that Richard’s body would fall fifteen feet to break his neck cleanly, and if he were unlucky enough to survive the fall, he would hang until dead. They had to climb a set of steps up to the top of the platform. A Texan led Richard to the trap door, then cinched the knot tightly around Williams’s neck.
Linden watched the Johnson boy look on, and could tell he was struggling to mask his emotions. It was so hard to trust people nowadays; Linden hoped Jake would pan out. He raised his hands to quell the crowd’s murmur, and then stepped to the edge of the platform.
“My friends, it is with a heavy heart that I stand here before you at this grim spectacle. There
are some of us that stray from the path that has yielded fifty years of peace, and one such stands before you today. Richard Williams was found to be in possession of illegal pre-war technology, and he used that technology to support the United States spies in the brutal bombing that you all remember from the festival.”
Linden pulled the bloody uniform Dillon found from his pocket, and extended his arm to show the people. Scattered gasps of disbelief and horror could be heard throughout the crowd.
“Now many of you know Richard, or at least thought you did, and you’re probably asking yourself why he would do this. While I don’t hold all the answers, I will tell you that when you get to thinking that your ideas, and your rights, are somehow above someone else’s, that is when you encroach on our society’s liberties, and that I will not stand for!”
Scattered applause met him here. It was strange though, usually these points raised crowds much higher.
“A few days ago, I told you that your representatives in Dallas would be handling the response to what this man and his conspirators have started. I hate to say this, but the truth of the matter is that an act of war has been committed!”
A distant sound rose in ears, soft like a heartbeat.
“And your government must respond…”
The sound grew louder. He recognized the pounding of horse hooves.
“In a few hours, I’d like to ask you to prepare…”
From somewhere in the crowd, a gunshot rang out.
“Now!” a voice screamed.
Linden looked up and saw figures wrestling with his soldiers everywhere.
He couldn’t believe his eyes. “No!” he screamed instinctively. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a girl charging toward the stage on a horse, with a hard look on her face; it must be the granddaughter. He pulled his pistol, sighted on her, and just before he pulled the trigger, a body knocked into his.
It was the Johnson boy, staggered by a townsperson who’d tried to rush the platform. A hand seized Linden, and pulled him back toward the cart.
“Sir, we need to get you to the trailer,” one of his aides called.
“Kill them!” Linden called as his aides wrestled him from the platform. “Kill the traitors!”
He fired his pistol into the crowd as they pulled him back until his magazine emptied and all he could do was stare at the chaotic scene.
***
At first glance, it looked to the sheriff like they might succeed. Last night when Jenny tapped on his door, he’d known what would happen today from the minute he saw her. You could only push a person so far before they stood up for what was truly right. Jenny had been pushed so hard she’d changed, and her courage had been just what the other decent citizens of the town needed to stand up for themselves.
Sheriff Dickson had been able to reach close to sixty people he could trust in town last night, and those citizens had placed themselves close to any Texan they could find. Luckily, not all of the Texans were at the fairgrounds helping their chances of freeing Richard slightly. His people waited patiently while the assemblyman began his speech until the signal burst from the alleyway northeast of the stage.
Jenny came streaking in on the sheriff’s horse. The girl’s hair was flowing out behind her and her face was a rock of determination. Dickson stood a few steps from three Texans that looked to be the toughest around. They were big men, raised on cattle beef unlike so many others who couldn’t afford to raise cows, and these men stood with their backs to each other, watching the crowd. The three of them turned when they heard Jenny’s horse, and the sheriff took out his pistol and fired in the air.
“Now!” he screamed.
The crowd surged all around him. Before the Texans could blink, the townspeople were beating on them from all directions, taking out days of humiliation and disrespect. To his left, the sheriff saw the biggest of the three Texans near him toss someone to the ground. Dickson stepped in and gave him a quick uppercut to the stomach, but his hand met with a wall of hard flesh, leaving the Texan chuckling. The sheriff quickly responded with a kick to the man’s knee, staggering him. The man’s face was lit with fury, and he reached for his pistol, but the sheriff already had his drawn.
“Drop it,” he said, and for a minute, the man considered his position. Then one of the townspeople, someone he hadn’t spoken with, knocked the soldier in the back of the head with a two by four. The Texan’s eyes rolled up, and he crumpled.
“Thank you,” Dickson said to the man, “grab his weapons.”
Turning to the other two Texans, he was happily surprised to see they were already bound with nearly ten people surrounding them.
“Ok,” he said, “Ok this is happening. Three of you stay here on guard, the rest of you come with me. Take any weapons you find.”
He turned and surveyed the field. Fistfights had broken out everywhere leaving many townspeople beaten pretty bad, but the people had come together and were helping their neighbors, just as he’d hoped. Moreover, his worst fear that the Texans would fire on his people, hadn’t happened yet. They’d caught the soldiers off guard, and so many of the townspeople had joined in that none of the Texans had even had the chance to draw their weapons. But the surprise was gone now, and they’d be vulnerabl
e once the rest of the Texan soldiers realized what had happened. Dickson had to get leverage. He needed Assemblyman Arnold.
Fifty Years of Peace (Abrupt Dissent Series) Page 12