“We must place our trust in the power of God, not in manmade weapons,” Red said. “If firearms make it into the hands of the soldiers of this era, the world will set foot on an inexorable and irrevocable path of destruction. Only this time we won’t be able to blame the Celeruns for our demise. The blame will rest solely in the hands of humankind. Therefore, we must throw our guns into the Mouth of God, where the Angel of Galatia will forge them into weapons suitable for this time period.”
“Good mayor, tell us what must we do to receive these heavenly weapons?” a woman asked in earnest.
“We must fast on bread and water for two days and night. And on the third day, Future Earth will learn to fear the God of Abraham once again, then and only then, peace will follow.”
When he stopped speaking, the crowd remained quiet as his words sunk in. I could see dawning comprehension on the faces of old and young that they had been duped by a madman.
“Mayor Wakeland,” I picked out Veronica’s voice from out of the crowd. “Did I just hear you tell us to give up our guns?”
“I didn’t tell you to give up your guns,” Red said. “God did.”
“Hell, no, He didn’t.” Nathan’s crotchety voice was easy to pick out. His lanky gray-haired form stepped out to the front of the crowd. “No disrespect, Red, you know I love you like a son. But have lost your friggin’ mind? In this battle, the guns are the only things going in our favor. Tell God to keep his heavenly weapons. I’m holding onto my Uzi.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Red replied.
“I remember when I was a girl,” Veronica Albright said. “Before the Celeruns came, people were saying guns were evil and should be destroyed. If those people had gotten their way, humanity never would have gotten past the Celeruns to make it to the bunker. Getting rid of them would be very foolish.”
“I ask you, what will happen when the humanoids figure out how to produce them?” Much to my chagrin, Red wasn’t backing down. “What will happen to us then, in this world that hates us? I implore you all to place your faith in a higher power than metal and gunpowder.”
“Is this where you tell us to beat our weapons into plow shares?” a man asked sarcastically.
“To everything there is a purpose under heaven. There’s a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build. Today is the time to recognize the Lord’s authority over Galatia. On the dawn of the Summer Solstice, the time for war will be upon us, and I am ready to defend this nation with the last drop of my blood.”
“Hear, hear,” a man called back with a supportive fist pump.
“Giving up the guns is a test, not a death sentence. God will not leave us to face our foes empty handed,” Red continued. “Obey His commands, and I promise you, our tears will be turned into dancing.”
A murmur went through the crowd. Arguments were breaking out. People were beginning to push and shove. Sensing trouble, parents with young children were trying to extricate themselves from the gathering.
“What’s wrong with all of you—” Simon spoke up, “Have you forgotten our mayor’s track record for pulling off the impossible? He saved us from the failing bunker, he sent us into the future to save us from the toxic gases from the bombed-out earth, and then he founded a nation where none could be built. Instead of doubting him, no matter how unlikely it seems, we should be expecting another miracle.”
A man threw a fist at Simon’s nose. He blocked it and put his assailant into a headlock. The other man’s buddies jumped on the doctor’s back. A brawl started before my eyes. A woman screamed. Men and women were shouting at each other. Fearful children began to wail. Someone grabbed both of my shoulders from behind. I jerked my head around to see two of Barrett’s deputies had wedged me between them.
A hand went to my mouth and I was dragged away with my heels sliding on the ground. I managed to grab onto Bryce’s sleeve. He saw what was happening, but he peeled my hand away, giving me an apologetic look as they forced me through the doors of the National Building. Four men I vaguely knew, friends of Barrett and Bryce who used to live in the Fade Brothers settlement, bound my hands. They forced me out the back of the building. Once outside again, they skirted me around the alleyways out of the crowd’s line of sight. I was shoved through the back door of the police station, which was mostly unoccupied except for the basement where the warden kept Fundo under lock and key. I was forced at gunpoint up several flights of stairs and into an interrogation room. There was a table, brick walls, a cot, a small hearth for fires, and a window with bars.
“We’re sorry, Michael,” one of the men said. “You will be released after this blows over.”
I heard the door lock behind me.
I tried the knob. It wouldn’t budge.
A small square window let me peer into hallway. The men that had imprisoned me still lingered, talking excitedly amongst themselves. What had just happened? My mind reeled in confusion.
A commotion started at the end of the hallway. I heard cussing. Going to the door with the small diamond-shaped window, I peered through to see a large man on his back, being dragged down the hall by his arms.
“Simon’s loose!” someone hollered.
Another man flew past the cell door window as if he had been tossed like a bag of flour.
“Quit fighting us, Dr. Steelsun!” a man shouted. “Or you’re going to make things worse for yourself. This is just temporary, but keep it up and the sheriff might change his mind.”
Oh, crap. I realized this had coup written all over it. Simon and I had been arrested due to our loyalty to Red. I suddenly remembered my talk with Bryce back in the Northland House of Bread, and his incriminating look a few minutes ago back on the landing. Barrett and Bryce must have been planning this a while now. Red’s proposal to get rid of the guns had given them the opening to overthrow him.
My mind went back to a recent conversation I had with Red, concerning Bryce’s comments against him, and how he had been playing around with magic.
“Every leader has his detractors,” Red had replied at the time. “President Abraham Lincoln’s critics called him a scoundrel, ugly, a land pirate, a widow-maker and worse, so I’ll count myself in good company. As for the magic, when men like Simon, Father Bob and Professor Daynor say that it is a real force in the world, I’m inclined to take it seriously.”
“After seeing Bryce’s eerie demonstration, I’m glad to hear you say that. When I mentioned it to Barrett, he said I was overreacting. Said it wasn’t to be feared, because in the right hands it could be very useful.”
“When the situation with the Alliance calms down, I will talk to Bryce and Barrett about it,” Red had said. “So don’t you worry, brother, everything will be okay.”
At the time, I wanted to believe everything was okay, so I had let the matter drop.
Big mistake.
Now it was brother against brother.
The men in the hallway finally got Simon under control. His balding head paused in front of my door. His lip was bleeding. One eye was already swollen shut. He looked surprised to see me through the window, caught in the same helpless situation as himself. He was rudely shoved along before we could speak. In a way, it felt reassuring to know that I wasn’t alone in this predicament, but I was angry to see Father Bob led past my cell in cuffs as well. The priest was in his eighties and no threat to anyone.
They had also apprehended Professor Daynor—no surprise there—but I was more than surprised to see Veronica among the prisoners. She had never hidden her annoyance with Red and was quick to criticize his leadership style. A government should be guided by logic, reason and compassion—not by some alleged higher deity that chooses to communicate its will with only a chosen few. That was her motto. Come to think of it, she had never cared for Barrett much either. The guards stopped her right in front of my door. Her brow arched when she saw me peering through its barred window.
&n
bsp; She said something to the guards. I couldn’t make out the words, but it earned her a sock in the jaw that caused her to stumble against my door. One of the guards yanked her upright by an arm. The shocked look on her face must have mirrored my own. I was angry enough about their treatment of Simon. Seeing them treat a woman that way turned it to outrage.
I called upon my charisma and tried to break down the door with my shoulder. Unfortunately, that Bulwark hadn’t been lying when he said the hinges and doors would hold up to the force of twenty men, which is what we needed for a jail designed to hold Galatians. As Veronica was led away, I heard her shouting call the jailers the ‘fucking Gestapo’.
At least she hadn’t lost her fighting spirit.
Feeling abysmally helpless, I went over to my window overlooking the cobblestone street. Gripping the bars on the window, I called upon the charisma strength to bend the bars. Straining until my shirt was wet with sweat, I gave up in a flurry of swearing.
The crowd was still out there, facing the National Building, which was across the street from me now. The mayor and the sheriff had just finished debating. I had missed what they had said and now Feenie was taking the platform. Dressed more conservatively than usual—blue jeans and a tight pink T-shirt—I noted that she still wore the headpiece with the teardrop jewel on her forehead.
Cupping a hand to her mouth, she shouted to the crowd, “I say we keep the guns and get rid of Mayor Wakeland!”
Shouts of agreement came from the crowd.
“The mayor has proven himself to be an unfit leader at a time when Galatia has never needed a hero so badly. Who can possibly fill the gaping hole? What Galatia needs is a man of action. Someone who understands this world and how to survive it. Need I remind, whereas Red has failed, who has picked up the pieces? My husband, Barrett Fade. When the first wave of Galatians arrived on Future Earth, who gave them shelter? Barrett Fade with his charisma. Who came to the aid of the second wave of Galatians when they were being massacred by Slivens? Barrett Fade. He has dealt with the Alliance for eleven years without ever incurring their wrath. Red has been here less than two and thanks to a thousand armies are parked at our doorstep preparing to kill us. But whose wall will stop them? Barrett Fade’s. And who will let us keep our guns? Barrett Fade!” She lifted her husband’s arm into the air. “And who will save us from our enemies? Not Red, that’s for sure. Today, I do not speak to you as a wife, but as a patriot of Galatia. May I present Galatia’s proper leader, Barrett Fade!”
“Barrett Fade!” the crowd shouted. “Barrett Fade! Barrett Fade!”
My stomach roiled with dread as Feenie motioned to a group of burly men on the landing. They ushered Red away, as Feenie placed a crown, a museum piece from my collection, on Barrett’s head.
“Long live King Barrett!” pockets of the crowd responded, while others shrank away in uncomfortable disagreement.
The world seemed to spin.
I thought of my wife and children. And of Red’s. Would Barrett and Feenie turn on them next?
Sinking down onto my cot, I held my head in my hands.
Chapter Forty-One
(Isaiah Wakeland)
Twilight streaked the skies in hues of indigo and violet as Isaiah Wakeland walked through Zena City with a heavy heart, but this time it had nothing to do with his Belle. No, his dad was in jail, along with Uncle Mike, Veronica and Father Bob. Grandma Elizabeth was still in a coma.
Pulling up the hood of his jacket against the biting wind, he walked through the front doors of Hopewell Hospital. Signing in at the front desk was protocol, but nobody was manning it.
“Hello?” he called, peering over the desk.
With a shrug, he moved on.
Hopewell was the only building in Galatia, probably the world at this moment, to have round-the-clock electricity. Being here, surrounded by white tiling, reminded him of Galatians Bunker where life used to make sense. If it wasn’t for the place being for sick people, it would be a great place to hang out. His father had been bugging him to find a purpose in life beyond playing the drums in Phoenix Rising, the rock band he had put together with some old high school chums.
“You’re a man now,” his father had lectured. “It’s time to quit going with the flow and forge your own path.
“When you were dating Lisa, you wanted to be a scientist, because she was attracted to intelligent guys, his father had pointed out. When you were dating India, you wanted to be a fireman, because she thought they were brave. And it’s been the same with every woman, even Belle, who was the best girl in the lot, but you screwed up your chances with that one.”
“Hey,” Isaiah reminded his father, “she was the one cheating on me.”
“Wasn’t she paying you back for cheating on her?”
Isaiah’s jaw dropped. He didn’t realize anyone knew about that except for Belle and that little twerp, Luke. His father had ways of finding out things, so Isaiah shouldn’t have been surprised.
“I loved that girl with all of my heart,” Isaiah replied, casting down his eyes to the ground.
“I don’t know why I did it—it’s just that Jill looked so good, and was telling the funniest jokes, I was really enjoying her company. I swear, cheating on Belle was the furthest thing from my mind at the time, but one thing led to another...you know it goes.”
“You need to learn to control your appetite, son.”
“What does food have to do with this?”
His father’s smile reached all the way up to the star-shaped birthmark at the corner of his left eye. He placed a supportive hand on Isaiah’s shoulder. “I’m talking about sexual appetite, son. Now, imagine your body as a car, and your will as its driver. When it comes to women, you’re letting the car tell the driver where to go, when it’s the driver that should be controlling the car. An honorable man does what he knows is right, rather than what feels good at the time.
“And for the love of God, quit trying to mold yourself around each new woman. Until you know who you are, and what you truly want, everyone will disappoint you, and you them.”
If only he could heed his father’s advice, but every pretty face brought new temptation. What was a guy to do? As he walked down Hopewell’s shiny new halls, Isaiah had the passing thought that maybe he would find the meaning of life in the medical profession. Saving lives was certainly honorable.
When he got to the room, Dr. Julie Franke was there removing Grandma Elizabeth’s IV drip.
“What are you doing?” Isaiah demanded to know.
“Sheriff’s orders.”
“Won’t she die without a feeding tube?”
“I must abide by the wishes of her family.”
“But my father has her Medical Power of Attorney and I know he didn’t give any such order.”
“Your Uncle Barrett is listed as the secondary Medical Power of Attorney if your father is unavailable or mentally incompetent.”
“My father is fine.”
“Not according to Dr. Steelsun,” Dr. Franke informed him. “He’s been observing your father for the last forty-eight hours and has declared him mentally unfit. I just received the signed paperwork.”
“Last I heard, Dr. Steelsun is among the missing. Let me see that paperwork,” Isaiah demanded, nostrils flaring.
“I can’t do that. Patient confidentiality.”
“This is bullshit. I’m going to put it back in.”
“You can’t do that,” Dr. Franke said coolly. “Your Uncle Barrett has already approved its removal, so take it up with him.”
“Oh, I will,” Isaiah said, fists curling at his side. “I will.”
Isaiah stormed to the National Building. A dozen guards were stationed outside the entrance. A dozen more were on the steps of the jail across the street. When Dad was in charge, he had never required guards.
“I need to see Barrett Fade.”
“That’s King Barrett to you,” one of the guards replied, “and no, you may not see him.
“Is that wh
at we’re calling the sheriff these days? Well, he’s still Uncle Barrett to me.” Isaiah brushed past the guards.
The door to Dad’s office was locked, but Isaiah was so angry he invoked the charisma and pulled off the knob. Barging right in, his breath caught in his throat and his eyes went wide. Uncle Barrett was lying on Dad’s desk completely naked. His wife straddled him, hips gyrating as she rode him like a pony, while he cupped her breasts. They were husband and wife, so he shouldn’t be so flustered, but Magus Mull, the humanoid with the coppery eyes, was there too—feeding Uncle Barrett the tip of his wanker.
“What the hell is going on in here!” Isaiah voice went up an octave.
Aunt Feenie didn’t even bother to stop riding Barrett. Instead, she flipped her loose blonde hair out of her face with a toss of her head.
“Come on over here, sweetie,” she said with an inviting finger. “We can make it a foursome.”
Mull had pulled himself away from the little orgy and crawled up the wall like a nasty cockroach.
Glancing around for something to defend himself if need be, Isaiah noticed his father’s bust of Abraham Lincoln on the desk, and there was a clear plastic umbrella in the vase by the door; that had a sharp point.
“What do you want, Isaiah?” Uncle Barrett sat up on the desk and started putting on his trousers, while Feenie slid into a silky green dress. His aunt and uncle’s calm in what should have been a very embarrassing situation made Isaiah feel even more bewildered.
“You need to order the doctors to replace Grandma’s feeding tube.”
“Keeping it there is only prolonging the suffering, Isaiah,” Uncle Barrett said softly as he adjusted the strings on his tunic. “Even if she wakes up, after a stroke like that, she’ll never truly recover. This isn’t about our feelings. It’s about letting her die with dignity.”
“But they don’t even know for sure if it was a stroke! How you can do this to your own mother?” His mouth thinned into an angry scowl. “But considering you threw my father, your very own brother into prison, apparently there’s no limit on how low you will go.”
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