“Not at all.” Grandpa jerked his blade upward. The sunmurtain chain broke in half. “See,” he said. “Nothing to it.”
“Whoa,” Lars said. “You made that look so easy.”
“Like I’ve always said, the right tool for the job gives you more time to be a slob.”
Josie rubbed her bloodied wrist, while Lars took the Seeker and placed it in a plastic container. “I’ll dispose of this for you.”
“No!” Josie said reaching for it again. “It’s mine.”
“But you wanted nothing to do with it a second ago.”
“I know, I know, but now that it’s finally off, I’m feeling a bit more level-headed. That thing was on my wrist for ages, what’s another day going to matter? I’ll ask around to find out how I can store it so nobody gets radiated by it.”
“Where did you get that necklace anyway?” Gizmo asked.
“As we were escaping the bunker, I found it on the floor of the Pringle barn.”
“Ahh,” Gizmo said. “That explains the radiation. It was on the surface of the earth for forty years following nuclear Armageddon. It must be hopelessly contaminated. I’m surprised you’re not already dead from radiation sickness.”
“Man, am I stupid,” Josie said, head hung low, tears streaming down her face. “I should have realized.”
The double doors to the warehouse swung open, letting in the sounds of bells ringing, and cheering. In came Professor Sweet. A smile lit up his usual stony face when he saw Gizmo.
“A big victory celebration is being planned for this evening,” the professor said. “Red wants you to set up the lighting and sound equipment for a party on the square.”
“But I just put everything away!” Gizmo protested.
“What happened to your regular assistants?”
“Who knows?”
“A party,” Josie said, bottom lip quivering. “Suddenly, I’m not in the mood. I think I just want to go home, curl up in a ball, and pretend the last year was just a really weird dream.”
“Me too,” Lars agreed.
“Judge Elizabeth expects all of the council members to attend, even the junior members, so you better be there.” With those words, the professor retreated out the doors.
“I’m taking Josie to the hospital,” Lars informed everybody in the room, ignoring her protests. “See if there’s anything we can do to reduce the risks from long-term exposure. When we’re through, I’ll come back to help you set up for the party.”
“No,” Gizmo shook his head. “You both look about to drop.”
..............................
(Josephine Rose Albright)
Back in her mother’s new apartment, Josie awoke in her own bedroom, in her own bed, a full-sized one with a straw-tick mattress held up by a net of ropes. She had bathed before going down for a nap. Her filthy clothing had been tossed. It had felt great to slip into fresh pair of pink undies and a matching sports bra. Snuggling into sheets and a downy comforter had never felt so good. It had been a long time since she didn’t have to sleep on a cold prison floor, or dirt, or grass, wondering if some wild animal was going to eat her, or some angry humanoid smash her face in. It took every ounce of willpower to roll out of bed. Never again would she take for granted sleeping under a roof with walls to protect her.
Mother’s home lacked electricity, but it had running water and a indoor plumbing—pure luxury. Through the parted curtains, made from old beach towels with cats driving race cars all over them, the deepening violet sky hosted a congregation of sparkly stars. As she stretched her sore joints, a thought popped into her head. How had Red Wakeland survived the fall into the Mouth of God? Nobody seemed to have an explanation and Red wasn’t sharing. She vowed to figure it out sooner or later.
When she had come through the door earlier that afternoon, Mother had screamed, not in fear or anger, but in excitement. She flung her arms around her daughter, both weeping. It took Josie five minutes to assure her mother that she was not a mirage. Mother wasn’t normally the emotional type, and growing up Josie had felt unloved at the distance between them, but this . . . it was good to know that she had been missed—loved.
Mother was gone now—at the party, no doubt. Josie had promised to join her later, but wanting to relax, she was having second thoughts. Sweet Home Alabama was blaring from the square, making her bedroom walls thump. Her feet gyrated to the peppy beat. Well, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to make a quick appearance at the party.
She grabbed a brush to calm her hair, which had grown well past her shoulder blades. Twirling into the living room, she made her own lyrics, singing, “Sweet home, Galatia!”
When the song segued to something slow and boring, she plopped down at the round kitchen table and began to fiddle at the gauze around her wrist. It felt bare without the Seeker, but she was glad it was gone. The doctors at Hopewell had taken a blood sample for testing and they were going to get back with her as soon as they knew anything. Dr. Katrina Sweet, however, had been forthright in her assessment. The blood test probably wouldn’t be able to tell them much, but prolonged radiation exposure had put Josie at a greater risk for cancer.
Now, there’s something to look forward to, Josie thought sullenly. How much later was the question? If she married Lars, would he be left a young widower? What if their children were deformed in some way? What if she wasn’t around to help them grow up? A lump formed in her throat just thinking about her compromised future.
At least Lindsey was okay. Lars and Josie had stopped to visit her in the hospital. The spear had been removed, there would be no permanent damage, and she was going to be released in time for the party. They had also run into Prince Loyl, who was there with his injured brother, Prince Gerard.
“Will we see you at the celebration tonight?” Dr. Steelsun had joined their impromptu reunion in the hospital lobby.
Loyl shook his head. “My people attacked Galatia, I wouldn’t feel comfortable.”
“But you’ve done more for Galatia than most of the Galatians,” Josie had pointed out. Nonetheless, the prince preferred to stay by his brother’s side.
As she glanced in the mirror hanging in the living room, she spotted a tube of lipstick sitting on its shelf. After years of eschewing cosmetics as a symptom of society’s superficial emphasis on beauty, today it was a symbol of civilization, a sign of abundance. She painted her pale lips red and applied black eyeliner.
A knock on the door made her hand jerk, causing her to draw a black line down her cheek.
“Dammit,” she said, and then called out. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Lars.”
Her heart quickened at the sound of his voice. “Just a sec!”
Dashing to her bedroom, she slipped into the dress her mother had laid across the foot of the bed. It was a simple design, baby blue, with a sweetheart collar, and a knee-length hemline trimmed in sequins. Josie answered the door in her bare feet.
There was Lars, with a bouquet of white dog roses, the kind she had worn in her hair the day he had given her the guitar.
“You remembered!”
She took them from his hands, her nose gorging on their spicy perfume.
Lars was dressed in a pair of navy blue pants, a white button-down shirt, and a vertically striped tie. Clean shaven, with a fresh haircut, he looked more like an old-fashioned American Boy, instead of the Dread of the West who made fierce gladiators piss themselves.
“Wow, Lars,” she beamed. “You clean up well.”
“As do you, Josie. You look beautiful.”
Basking in the compliment, she invited him in.
He lingered awkwardly inside the doorway as she searched for a vase to put the roses in. Spying a pitcher on the kitchen counter, a length of smoothed black stone, she primed the hand pump. Water gushed out into the pitcher—so simple, so absolutely wonderful to have indoor water again.
“I didn’t mean to take such a long nap,” Josie said as she arranged the flowers to perfection. “
I figured you’d be partying your ass off by now.” She grabbed a knit shawl from the coat hook. “I’m ready if you are.”
When she reached for the door handle, he placed his hand over hers. Spinning her around to face him, his chest was heaving, his eyes were fierce with desire, expressing what words could not. The past was behind them. The future was an a question mark. All they had was the present.
And they wanted to share it with each other.
He leaned down, gently touching his lips to her own. She nibbled. He offered a little tongue. Wanting more, she opened her mouth in invitation. A delicious stirring began in her belly. He pulled her against him. His body tightened against her own. All the suppressed kisses, caresses, and affection evaporated in an explosion of hot desire. The kisses became deeper, their hands began to explore one another’s bodies. He picked her up. She motioned toward her bedroom. He carried her there and set her on the bed. She loosened his tie and slipped it over his head, then worked on unbuttoning his shirt, and then his pants.
Before she knew it, he had slipped her dress up over her shoulders. His hand worked her breasts, worked its way lower, finding the pleasure spot she hadn’t known was there.
“Are you sure?” his voice was raspy, “I mean, if you want to wait until we’re married . . .”
“Life is short,” she said, all her fears melting away in the flames of desire, “I’ve never been surer.”
“Oh, My, God, Josie,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire. “I wish you could feel how much I love you.”
“Oh, but I can.” She smiled naughtily, bringing her hand down to his hardness.
This time he growled playfully in the back of his throat.
“Damn,” Lars groaned in frustration.
“Shhh,” Josie whispered. “Maybe they’ll go away.”
Whoever was there knocked again.
“Josie,” a muffled voice called through the door. “Your mother sent us to fetch you. Is Lars in there with you?”
They both scrambled for their clothes in the dark.
“Quick,” Josie said, “make it look like we weren’t doing what were just doing.”
He struck the match and lit a fat candle with three wicks at the center of the table.
“Ready?” she asked Lars.
“Wait.” He closed his fly. “Okay.”
She swiped her face clean with a hand towel dipped in the ewer on her vanity, applied more lipstick, tamed her disheveled hair with her fingers, straightened the hem of her dress and plastered on a welcoming smile. When she opened the door, Luke Steelsun was standing there with Belle Winters. They peered over her shoulder at Lars, who was busy gulping water.
“Why did it took you so long to answer the door?” Luke asked.
“With the loud music and all,” Josie explained a little too rapidly, “I guess I didn’t hear you right away.”
“Well, you both missed the opening prayer of thanksgiving, all of the congratulatory speeches, the latest updates on the wounded, the council’s plans for the future and the best fried chicken and garlic butter biscuits ever. The only food left is the crap nobody likes—carrots and yam pudding. Gross.”
“The celebration is in full swing,” Belle said. “Are you ready to go?”
“Sure, I guess.”
Luke and Belle stepped aside, allowing Lars and Josie to exit past them into the public hallway, and started to snicker at some inside joke.
“Just talking all of this time, eh?” Luke asked.
“Yes,” Josie said defensively. “Just talking.”
“If you say so,” Belle replied. “But you might want to fix your dress before we get the square—it’s on backwards.”
Josie felt her cheeks flame.
She pulled her arms out of straps, spinning the dress around while still on her body. Luke offered Lars a hanky and suggested that he wipe the red lipstick from his neck.
It didn’t take more than five minutes to get to the square.
The movie, Glory Alley and the Star Riders, was showing on the side of the National Building, but the music was too loud to hear anything the actors were saying. Tables had been placed all along the street and they were filled with people eating, drinking, laughing and playing cards. Speakers on all sides of the square faced inward. Children, teens and adults had formed a Conga line that was snaking past the new arrivals. Luke and Belle were already getting into the beat. Josie’s feet were itching to join in, so she grabbed Lars and pulled him into the Conga line.
After the song ended, Judge Elizabeth stood up at the podium on the landing in front of the National Building.
“All of the guests of honor are here at last.” Josie looked around, straining on her tiptoes, to see what important people had arrived. “Would the members of the Red Squad please come forward?”
Josie and Lars glanced at each other in surprise. Pomp and Circumstance began to filter through the speakers.
Luke nudged them forward as the crowd parted, leaving them a path up the steps toward Judge Elizabeth. The people smiled, clapping and patted them on the backs as they skimmed past them. Lars offered Josie the crook of his arm. She threaded her arm through his and leaned on him for his quiet strength. Dante joined them as they climbed the steps. Lindsey was trying to make her way up the steps on crutches, when Ryan Penn swept her up and set her down on the landing.
Judge Elizabeth leaned over the microphone once again.
“Prince Loyl, I know you’re down there somewhere, don’t be shy. We’re not going to do this without you.”
Josie saw Prince Loyl arguing with Dr. Steelsun, obviously reluctant to come up, but he finally gave in and made his way up the stairs to stand next to Lindsey.
“There’s been about a zillion speeches today, so I will make this short. The sacrifices of the men and women standing before you are only beginning to come to light. Sadly, two of their members, Rolf Marshall and Hogard: Basher of a Hundred Skulls, made the ultimate sacrifice, giving their lives so that Galatia might live.”
The microphone carried Lindsey’s heart-wrenching sobs over the crowd. Josie glanced over at her and was moved to pity—nose running, shoulders shaking, wobbling on her crutches—a shell of the sharpshooter she used to be.
“Let us bow our heads in honor all our fallen heroes and say a prayer that they have found peace.” A hard lump formed in Josie’s throat. She suddenly felt guilty for celebrating. What were they thinking? How dare they be happy? Rolf had died early this morning. Then again, he had known the risk, and had died fighting for what he believed in. If he were here, despite the losses, he’d be at the party celebrating their victory. She felt his blessing upon the whole gathering, easing her guilt.
“And now to honor the living,” Judge Elizabeth said, her voice echoing over the city. “For courage in the face of danger, the Nation of Galatia wishes to present to you this day, Medals of Valor.”
As Judge Elizabeth said each of their names, General Red went down the line, starting with Prince Loyl, shaking their hands, congratulating them, and slipping the medals over their heads.
Rolf’s father came up to accept the medal on his son’s behalf, and a Bulwark contractor, a distant cousin of Hogard, accepted the medal on Hogard’s behalf. It was a bittersweet moment, but the crowd whooped and cheered their approval.
Josie looked for her sister Jo and mother in the crowd. There they were in the front, standing next to Lars’s parents and siblings. They beamed with familial pride. She could hardly stand so much joy at once. The squad was dismissed. Josie was making their way back down the steps with the rest of them when Elizabeth spoke into the podium microphone again.
“Josephine Rose Albright, please come back up here.”
An irrational fear that they were about to take way her medal gripped her chest. Maybe the council had gotten wind of how she had killed Willow and Big Clo. A murderer didn’t deserve a medal of valor. No, Josie Albright, the Bitch of Galatia, only deserved scorn. Didn’t she?
“W
e have one more medal to bestow. The first of its kind, the highest in the land, awarded by the leadership of Galatia for heroic displays of gallantry, fortitude, foresight and bravery in the face of extraordinary adversity. We’re calling it the Red Wakeland the First Award, given to those who follow in his giant footsteps.”
The moment was surreal as General Red offered her a golden ax.
“Congratulations, Miss Albright. Job well done.”
The handle was inscribed with these words: In memory of Red Wakeland the First, the nation of Galatia honors Josephine Rose Albright for exceptional service to her country, above and beyond the call of duty.
She accepted the ax with both hands. Heavy.
Lars was at the front of the crowd with the rest of the squad, cheering wildly, but the roar faded away. For a moment, she was transported back to the cathedral from her dreams. Pillars rose to a groin-vaulted ceiling. There was the topaz dome swirling above and the pool below, swirling with mists, which she now recognized as the Mouth of God. There was the Angel of Galatia, still hard at work, forging swords, the sound of his hammer echoing off the cathedral’s sacred walls. There was Red Wakeland the First in his flannel shirt and T-shirt, leaning on his ax. Zena sat at his feet, looking furry, mighty and majestic.
“You think the journey’s over,” Red the First said, “but it’s ready to begin.”
“I don’t understand. Begin what? Begin where?”
“Brick-by-brick, stone-by-stone, you must build the Heart of Galatia.”
An instant later she was back on the landing in front of the National Building.
“Do you have any words you would like to share with us?” Judge Elizabeth was asking, pulling Josie back into the celebration.
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
She went to the podium and laid her golden ax across its wooden surface.
“This award is so much cooler than one that was stolen from me at the high school talent show.” Lindsey grinned sheepishly from the crowd, whilst the rest of the squad laughed at the inside joke. “Boys and girls, men and women, we kicked the Alliance’s butt and now we’re our own damn country. I don’t know what the future holds, but tonight we celebrate the human race.” With that she held her trophy high, and shouted, “Arise, Galatians, arise!”
Seeker of the Four Winds: A Galatia Novel Page 34