Dave left the crowd of men in their silence. He shook hands with several of his men before returning to his seat beside Lauren.
“Nice speech,” she said. “I’m impressed…you didn’t even have anything written down.”
“Thanks. I’ve been saving that diatribe for a special occasion.”
Lauren hesitated, toying with the dew-covered grass before her. “Think it did any good?”
“Who knows?” Dave said, tipping his bottle up. “If it did, great. If not, at least major pain and his throng got some much-needed tutelage. And they know exactly where they stand with me.”
Lauren nodded. “Right. But that begs the question, will they stand with you?”
“Whether they do or don’t changes nothing for us, Janey. We’ll just pick up where we left off, putting back together the pieces of a country put asunder.” Dave paused, looking into the mouth of his bottle contemplatively. “We’ll be heading back to base for a few days after a while. The unit’s been humping for months on end, and we urgently need to resupply, refuel, and regroup. I think I’ve been pushing the men too hard lately. And men under that kind of pressure have a tendency to snap. I don’t want them to forget what they’re fighting for.” He sighed. “That…and we could all use the rest, I suspect. Myself included.”
Lauren cocked her head to the side. “Where is base?”
“No one’s told you yet?”
“No one’s told me anything…”
“Roger that. It’s a place called Rocket Center, not far from here. I think you might like it. It has some…redeeming qualities.” Dave paused for a long moment, staring off into the distance. He took a final sip and set the empty bottle aside. “Janey, you remember that phrase ‘united we stand, divided we fall’?”
“Of course I do,” she replied, grinning. “It was pretty common.”
“Indeed, it was. You know its origin?”
“History was never my forte,” Lauren said, shrugging. “But I did spend a few Sundays of my youth in children’s church. There was a verse printed on a banner in the front of the room. It said, ‘If a house is divided against itself, that house cannot stand’.”
Dave chuckled. “You never cease to amaze me with that wit. The phrase was Kentucky’s state motto. Patrick Henry used it verbatim in the last speech he made, two months before he died. I always loved hearing it, whether spoken or in song, and I used to think it was timeless. But I don’t anymore.”
Lauren ran her fingers through her hair. “Why not anymore?”
“Because the United States fell, and everything that once was has changed. We’ve all been through our share of trials and tribulations, even you, Janey, yet we’re still here, still alive to sit by the fire under a moonlit night and chat about it. We’ve all fallen and been torn apart, as a people and as a country, but I can see us slowly coming together again and finding a way back to our feet. And I think the phrase merits some rewording to compensate. Because from what I’ve seen, whether united or divided, we stand.”
Chapter 20
Trout Run Valley
Thursday, December 2nd
Grace’s latest companion tugged on her arm with such vigor that she could feel her shoulder ready to slip out of its socket. It was an injury she had initially endured while participating in a dance competition many years before, and had become one of the primary reasons she had stopped competing in dance altogether. Today, she was certain it was close to becoming reinjured.
The man led her out the front door of the Masons’ home and down the front porch steps into the driveway. Grace didn’t say anything until she noticed he was pulling her toward the cabin.
“Where exactly are you taking me?” she asked, the pain in her arm and her perturbation both palpable in her voice. “And would you mind easing up with your grip? This nutcracker-crusher thing you’re doing isn’t necessary—and it really hurts.” She resisted, only to have him pull harder on her.
“You wanted to see the man, didn’t you? The head honcho?” He pointed ahead to the cabin. “Well, he’s in that house over there. So that’s where we’re going, to see the man. So far as my grip is concerned, I think I’ve given in to your nonsense enough already today.”
“Is that…a fact?”
The man continued to tug on her while reaching to open the gate leading to the Russells’ driveway. “Goddamn right, that’s a fact. It’s been years since I’ve come across someone, correction, a skank near as flippant as you.” He paused, licking his teeth. “If it wasn’t for the fact you got a potato growin’ in your garden, I’d smack the tar out of you for the simple fact I don’t like the way you’re looking at me. And the shit your mouth’s been talkin’ would get you a full-on ass beating.”
“Well, I’m sorry that my gestational condition is interfering with your ability to get in a proper workout,” Grace quipped, gesturing to the man’s belly. “Looks like you could use a few. Maybe we can find you an inanimate, nonhuman punching bag somewhere. The kind that doesn’t hit back.”
“Keep that shit up, and your gestational anything won’t matter. I’ll hang you by your ankles and make you my personal piñata. Maybe then you’ll shut the hell up and show some respect.”
“I doubt it.”
As the words left her mouth, the man yanked on her, pulling her nose-to-nose with him. “You got sand. Can’t wait to see you try that shit with Max. He’s not nearly as patient.”
“Is Max the man?”
“Yup.”
“Can’t wait to meet him,” she purred.
The man loosened his grip only slightly while leading Grace through the cabin’s front door. Once inside, she studied the floor, walls, and the furniture, attempting to discern how much, if anything, was out of place, relocated, or missing. At first glance, it didn’t appear much had been altered.
Three men were seated at the table, two just as grimy and untidy as the slack-jawed yokel who had accompanied her. A third man, whom Grace assumed was the leader, was not only dressed differently than the others, but had a certain air about him. His stiff posture displayed gumption, and he reminded her of someone used to getting his way, used to being in a place of authority, like a corporate officer or a CEO of a business.
While the other men wore denim jeans, coveralls, or canvas work pants of some kind and had boots on their feet, he instead had on pleated khakis and a pair of incredibly clean penny loafers, of all things. His light blue button-up cotton twill shirt looked as if it had been recently ironed. His appearance seemed dreadfully out of place for the times, like he had just strolled into the post-apocalypse after staying the night at a fully operational Holiday Inn Express.
The man’s presentation caught Grace napping. When he turned to her, she caught sight of an incredibly well-groomed, yet very seedy-looking mustache, a facial feature she’d often referred to as a ‘pornstache’. She was so amused that she almost giggled aloud. “Okay, you most definitely have to be Max.”
The man clasped his fingers together and placed his hands in his lap while leaning back casually in the chair. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Depends who’s asking. Who in the hell are you?” He turned to the cohort who had brought Grace along. “What’s this about?”
Grace moved in closer as the other men at the table redirected their attention from the mounds of food they had on their plates. Setting their forks down, they eyeballed her, and one pointed a .45-caliber 1911 pistol in her direction.
While doing her best not to make sudden moves, Grace reached for a chair and slowly slid it away from the table, then took a seat.
The leader looked at his men with a grin, then turned his attention back to Grace while he thumbed the coarse hairs of his mustache. “Well, please. Take a seat. Make yourself at home.”
“Thanks, but I really don’t think I need your permission.”
“Excuse me?”
Grace furrowed her brow and held up a finger. “Sorry…allow me to explain. This is my home.” She downturned the same finger a
nd tapped the table. “I live here. This is my table we’re sitting at, and those are my chairs that your and your men’s asses are planted in right now.”
The man with the mustache lifted an eyebrow. “I see. Thanks for making me aware of this. Which room is yours?”
“My room is in the cellar, if you must know,” Grace continued, her tone almost brazen. “This house and everything in it belongs to me and my family. My grandmother and grandfather bought the property as an investment years ago. I believe the original deed has twenty-five acres of land and includes this cabin, the bridge behind it, and two exterior buildings. I can show it to you if you like.”
“There’s no need for that,” the man wearing the button-up shirt said, taking a more formal tone. “I’m fully cognizant that in normal times, such documentation had a strong legal standing.” He scooted his butt to the edge of his chair and set his elbows on the table. “But my dear, all of our asses, including the one connected to that curvy, gaunt frame of yours, are planted right smack-dab in the middle of abnormal. And times…they are a-changin’. The only law present for miles around is present at this table, seated right in front of you, and you’re looking at him right now.”
“Oh.”
“And this may have been your house at one time, but now it belongs to me. I’ve taken possession of it. In fact, everything that once belonged to anyone living in this valley is now also mine. Every house, every car, every road, every tree. Everything.”
Grace could feel dryness begin to overtake her mouth. A sheet of warmth moved through her body, causing her to feel faint. She couldn’t decide what act to take with this man. Maybe she needed more time.
She glanced into the kitchen and spotted Norman’s two-bucket filter. “I’m sorry, I’m really parched. I didn’t realize how thirsty I was. Could someone get me a glass of water?”
The man chuckled, as did his minions. He sat back and gestured to the filter. “Get it yourself. It was your house, after all. You should know where everything’s at.”
Grace smiled grimly and rose, making her way around the table and past the men to the filter. While pouring herself a glass, she could hear the man who had brought her saying something under his breath to the one with the perfect whiskers.
“Pregnant?” the leader barked. “Who in the hell would be dumb enough to bring another child into this Godforsaken world?”
Grace took a long sip of water and swished it around her mouth before swallowing. She turned and raised her hand. “That would be me.”
All four men in the room only stared at her, no words escaping their mouths.
Taking another sip from the glass, Grace walked back to the table and took her seat. “It’s my credo, my modus operandi. I’ve never been known for good decision-making skills. And my luck has never been very good either. This time around, I really screwed the pooch.”
The leader’s eyebrows danced while he toyed with his chin. “You can say that again. And to top it all off, your baby daddy left you. So what happened? Lovers’ quarrel? Get into a big fight? Did you try and trap him?”
Grace could feel the nausea building in her stomach, and she tried reassuring herself about the water she was drinking. She knew it had come from the rain barrels and they had disposed of any water believed to be tainted, but in that moment, in her current situation, she wished it had been the other way around, and these men could get what was coming to them, simply by obeying their thirst. “No. No fight, and he didn’t run out on me. I mean…don’t get me wrong…he’s a pain in the butt sometimes, but I’m no better. He’s a good man, and I love him…even though I probably don’t deserve him.”
“Where did he go? And how long before he returns?”
Grace contemplated answering the leader’s interrogation with lies, but she didn’t see any point in hiding the truth. “Originally, we planned an expedition to search for food. We’re well beyond running out, as you’ve probably already noticed. Then some of us got sick from some mystery illness, so they left in a rush to try to find a doctor.”
The man laughed as his eyes rolled skyward. “A doctor? Jesus H Christ. Now that’s some wishful thinking, if I ever heard it. Where in the name of the blessed Virgin Mary did you people think you’d find a doctor these days?”
Grace turned her head away and shrugged, trying her best to look shameful. “I don’t know; it wasn’t my idea. And I really have no idea where they went to look. So I guess I don’t have a clue when they’ll be back, either.”
“That’s a shame. And as sorry as I am to hear about your problems, these days, everybody has them. My men and I have been dealing with a slew of our own since this whole thing started.”
Grace leaned in. “And are those problems what’s brought you and your men here to hold us hostage and steal from us?”
The man rapped his knuckles on the table, looking derisive. “You know something, I like you. You’re bold…feisty even. Were you always like this? Back before you got yourself inseminated?”
“I’m passionate,” replied Grace, slightly taken aback at the man’s jargon. “It just so happens, ever since I was…inseminated, I became a bit more sassy.”
The man with the mustache chuckled. “I can respect that. I can definitely respect that. I admire your spirit.” He turned to Grace’s escort and ordered him back to the Masons’ home, then pointed to Grace. “What’s your name?”
“Grace.”
“Grace what?”
Grace thought quickly about which character guise to adopt from her collection. “Grace Louise…after my mother.”
The man exhaled through his nose, sat back in his seat, and crossed his legs. “As you already know, my name is Max. That’s short for Maximilian, but I’d prefer it if you called me Mr. Armstrong, like my men do.”
“Charmed.”
“Yes, yes, I’m quite sure you are,” said Max, not picking up on Grace’s sardonic tone. “As you can probably guess, I’ve had women throw themselves at me practically all my life, but I’ve learned how to become oblivious to flirtatious advances. Relationships tend to interfere with business.”
Grace snickered, finding herself transfixed by Max’s pornstache. “Oh, I wasn’t flirting with you. If it came across that way, I—”
“No need to renege, Grace. I know when a woman wants me. I am a man of many talents, and reading people is one of them.”
“Oh, I see.”
“I was a businessman…an affluent entrepreneur, desperate for some much-needed time away from work before all this shit came to pass,” Max expounded. “I bet you didn’t know that before winding up here, I ran one of the largest coal-mining companies in the eastern United States…well, the former eastern United States, I guess I should say.”
“Which one?” Grace asked, pretending to sound sincere.
“The Strong Arm Energy Cooperative. I suppose you’ve heard of it.”
Grace shook her head indifferently, her lower lip protruding. “Nope.”
“Hmm, okay. Well, my father, you see, started the business forty-seven years ago and handed it over to me as an inheritance when he died. Been mine ever since. And I gave him quite the send-off. In my tenure, I managed to quadruple our production and revenue. Until this damn…blackout, or whatever, business was flourishing.”
“I’m sorry, I blacked out for a second. Did you say strong arm or strong armed?” Grace pondered. “Is that like a play on words or something? Like strong-armed robbery?”
“Are you getting smart with me, Grace? Because I don’t like that shit. I don’t take to insults.” Max gestured to his minion holding the pistol. “My nephew had a smart lip on him. Little bastard had to get it beaten out of him every day.”
“No, no. Not smart. Sassy, remember?”
“Ah, yes. Her pregnancy hath made her sassy.” Max pointed to Grace. “I got my eye on you. You are definitely one to watch.” He paused to adjust his posture. “So what exactly can I help you with, Grace? You’re pregnant, immersed in a rather bl
eak situation you can’t get out of, surrounded by armed, ferocious-looking men. With a mouth like yours running out of control like it’s been, whatever you wanted must’ve been pretty goddamn important.”
Grace hesitated while gliding her index finger across the faded polish of the tabletop. “Well, I guess it is pretty goddamn important. It started as a single two-part question, the first being to find out who you were. Since you’ve already answered that part, I can move on to the next one…the one where I ask why you’re here.”
“I’m here because I choose to be…and let’s get something straight,” Max began, clinching his jaw. “You need to realize, Grace, first and foremost, that I am under no obligation to give you any information from this point forward. In fact, I’m under zero burden to give you or any of the folks still breathing here a goddamn thing. You’re lucky that I’m letting the matrons over there give your sick people some of my antibiotics.” He pointed to the glass of water in Grace’s hand. “You’re lucky that I’m allowing you to partake of my water right now while your sassy badonkadonk rides my antique fiddleback chair. You understand that, don’t you, Grace? Because I can make things more clear for you if you don’t.”
Grace hung her head and provided a negative response as her stomach began to churn. “No, I don’t need any additional…clarification. I’m fully aware who has the advantage right now. And I know you don’t have to answer any of my questions.”
“Good. Glad we’ve got that figured out.”
“But,” Grace pressed, “I also know you could have just as easily killed me the second I was pushed through that door. You could kill me right now, and for some reason, you haven’t.”
Divided We Stand Page 21