by Riley Flynn
“Your wish is my command.” Hutch decanted the amber liquor into snifters that had been placed in front of each guest. “From what I understand, a bottle of this particular vintage went for around twenty-five thousand clams back in the day.”
“A far cry from the 7-11 stuff we started with,” Ruben grinned.
When they all had a glass, they stood—except Price—and raised them in a toast.
“To Henry Archer and Brad Farries,” said Jax, feeling the gravity of the situation flow back into him and press against his heart. “Two good men, gone too soon.”
“Hear hear,” the rest muttered before tilting their glasses back.
“If I may?” asked Hutch. “Since we’re all here, and the hooch is so fine?”
Jax nodded and Hutch raised his glass again.
“To Col. Jackson Booth,” he said. “Long may he watch over the new republic, and may his tenure be filled with peace and prosperity.”
Jax felt blood rise in his cheeks as the others nodded vigorously and cheered. Even Todd had tilted his glass without any obvious sarcasm.
“My first official order is for all of you to never do that again,” Jax said as he drained the rest of his scotch. “Keep your glasses up for Capt. Ruben Lambert. I know he’ll do at least a tolerably competent job of leading Echo Company. Maybe.”
Ruben shook his head. “Why you gotta do that shit, man?”
Jax grinned. “Because I’m a colonel and I can.”
They all did a passable job of keeping their sorrows at bay for the rest of the afternoon. Talk ranged from memories of the fallen to what they could expect with the coming spring to how they were going to fill the voids left by Lisa Blume and Evan Travis on the president’s council.
That one sparked the longest discussion, and ended with one particularly unsatisfied participant.
“So are you game, or what?” Raylene asked. She was a bit tipsy after four glasses of the Glenlivet.
Hutch sighed. “Do I have a choice?”
“Sure,” said Todd. “You can shut up and do as you’re told, or you can do as you’re told and shut up.”
“Fine,” he said. “Whatever it takes to get you people to quit yapping and put your mouths to the purpose for which God intended.” With that, he downed the rest of his own drink.
“I’ll talk to the president in the morning,” said Jax. “But I’m sure he’ll agree to it. The council will still need a fifth member, but Hutch will do an excellent job of filling the void for now. I highly doubt anyone is in the mood for an election any time soon.”
“I’ll drink to that,” said Hutch, and he did, to a round of laughter from the others.
“So what made Hutch suspicious about Travis?” asked Jax.
He and Todd were the last two stragglers in the Penrose now that the sun was far below the mountains outside the windows. Maggie had driven Price back to the resort, and the others had all retired to their quarters in the Broadmoor. Hutch had needed a steadying hand from Raylene, who had needed a steadying hand from Ruben. Jax himself had a corporal waiting to take him back to his new suite with a simple radio call.
“Why don’t you ask him?” said Todd.
Jax chuckled. “I would, but to be honest, it seems like whenever I can find the time to sit down with him he’s three sheets to the wind.”
“Copy that,” Todd said, sipping from his glass. “It’s actually pretty simple. We were talking about Farries that night and Hutch asked me if I believed he was Lisa’s killer. I said I didn’t.”
“Why?”
Todd sighed. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
“Say what?”
“That I trust your judgment. Maybe more than anyone else’s around here.”
Jax felt his eyebrows rise. “I can never tell when you’re being serious.”
“Don’t get me wrong—I don’t like you. But I do respect you. So does Hutch. We started with the assumption that Farries was innocent and did some deductive reasoning. I told him about some of the stuff I’d seen between Lisa and Travis, things that happened before he got here, and he came up with the theory of the jilted lover. I said I didn’t think the kid had it in him, but next thing I know, we’re up in his room and Hutch keeps asking him these questions, one right after the other. Pretty soon Travis is sobbing and gibbering on the floor.”
“Wow.”
“The guy’s got a brain as big as all outdoors, man.”
Jax nodded. “And we’re going to need all the big brains we can get.”
“Why’s that?”
“Winter’s almost over. Once spring hits, we’re going to be inundated with newcomers. We’ve already got more coming in every day.”
Todd stroked his beard. “Urban sprawl is a bitch, for sure. Not to mention the fact that we don’t know if any of them are Duke and Adler’s people.”
“Exactly. Things are about to kick into high gear. The long dark winter is almost over.”
The two men sat in silence for a few moments. Finally, Todd picked up the bottle from the table and poured them both a fresh round.
“You’re right,” he said, raising his glass. “But it ain’t over yet.”
They would go on to finish that bottle and half of another that Todd had scrounged. By the end of the night, they were very, very drunk.
Epilogue
Emily Sidley was tidying the side table that was used for the students’ lunch service when the knock came.
She turned to see Elwood Hutchinson’s tall frame filling the doorway. His hair was shorter these days, but he still wore the best shabby-chic clothes he could scrounge, which was easier these days now that spring had finally come. She flashed him a brilliant smile.
“Professor! I’m so happy you could make it.”
“The pleasure is mine,” he said, taking her offered hand. “I’ve heard a great deal about you and the school. And please, call me Hutch. I’m afraid I don’t qualify as a professor these days.”
She motioned for him to follow her into her office. He took the seat that the children used during their counselling sessions, while she took her usual chair at her desk. Outside the window, the students ran and shouted and played in the welcome warmth of the afternoon.
“What can I do for you?” Hutch asked. “I have to admit I was curious when I got your message. If you’re looking for a substitute, I’m afraid I have a hard enough time keeping adult students awake during my lectures, let alone children.”
Emily giggled. “I’m sure that’s not the case, Hutch. From what I hear, you’re utterly charming. A real storyteller.”
He tilted his head in mock humility. “I have been known to ramble on.”
She smiled sweetly. “I’m glad to hear that. I’m really in need of a storyteller.”
“Is that so?”
“It sure is. But that’s for a bit later. I actually called you here to meet a particular student of mine.”
“Just one?” He frowned. “Is there special reason?”
“Oh, he’s a very special boy,” she said. “In fact, there’s no one else like him in Colorado Springs.”
Hutch grinned wide. “Well, then, I’d very much like to meet this special fellow.”
“Perfect.” Emily stood and straightened her skirt before opening her office door. “You can come in now, sweetheart.”
She watched Hutch’s face intently as Lucas strolled casually into the room. She’d finally convinced him to let her cut his hair so that it was no longer hanging in his eyes, but otherwise, he looked much the same as he had when he’d first arrived in Colorado Springs in November.
The signs in the professor’s reaction were subtle but unmistakable: a slight widening of the eyes, a twitch at the corner of his mouth, his hands suddenly scratching at the legs of his jeans.
Emily locked the door behind the boy. “Hutch, this is Lucas. Lucas, this is Professor Hutchinson.”
“I know,” Lucas said mildly. “Hello, Woody.”
Em
ily feigned surprise and clapped her hands together. “Well, my goodness! The two of you already know each other! What a small world.”
She delighted in watching Hutch’s eyes dance as his brain worked feverishly.
“I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone else, young fellow,” he said with a chuckle. “But it’s a pleasure to meet you, just the same.”
“I saw you in the mountains last spring,” Lucas said. He could have been reading the spelling words off the blackboard for all the interest he showed. “You were there for three days.”
Hutch glanced from the boy to Emily. “That’s quite an imagination you have there. I’ve never been to those mountains.”
“You have a scar on your right forearm next to your elbow. A semi-circle about two inches in diameter.”
Emily cocked her head. “Is that true, professor? If it is, I’d say that meant Lucas here isn’t mistaken, and that he really did see you in the mountains with all those people he used to live with. Wouldn’t you say that?”
Hutch’s mouth worked like a fish on a hook for several seconds before it finally stopped. He took a deep breath. “What do you want?”
“Oh, all sorts of things,” she said sweetly. “You’re a storyteller, after all. I’d like you to tell me some stories. About people in the mountains, and radio transmitters, and strange people in faraway lands who have mysterious plans that don’t align with what we’re doing here in Colorado Springs.”
He stared at her in silence for several seconds. She got the distinct impression that he was sizing her up. It was only natural, of course. She would have done the same thing if threatened.
“And if I don’t agree?” he asked, a little more forcefully.
“Then I guess Lucas will have a chat with Col. Booth. He’s his daughter’s best friend, after all. And Jax and I have been getting very friendly over the past several weeks since he’s been living here at the resort.”
“It would be your word against mine,” said Hutch. “And from what I understand, everyone thinks the boy is mute. How would they respond to him suddenly being able to speak after all this time?”
Her grin widened as she produced a key from the pocket of her skirt and turned the lock on a metal cabinet next to her desk. She reached inside and pulled out a vintage Louisville Slugger baseball bat with a wooden handle. It was covered in blood that had soaked into the grain and dried to a shade of ruddy black.
Hutch leaned back in his seat, an autonomic response to a perceived threat. It made her chuckle.
“I’m not going to use this on you,” she said. “No, no, no. What I’m going to do if you don’t agree is make sure that this bat, which is now covered in Henry Archer’s blood, hair and skin, shows up in your residence. Now, I know what you’re thinking: there are no working forensic labs anymore, how could anyone match it to the general’s body?”
Hutch stared at the bat in silence.
“You see,” she continued, “this bat used to sit in the corner of his office. He’d used it as a little leaguer and had brought it with him on his many missions as a sort of talisman; a link to his younger glory days. Col. Booth and Capt. Lambert are both quite familiar with it; they’ve been looking for it since the night he was murdered, as a matter of fact.”
“Are you…” Hutch licked his lips and swallowed hard. “Are you telling me that you were the one…?”
She shrugged. “There was no way the general would have let Smith into his room that night. But when I came, he was only too happy to welcome me in. He didn’t see the bat until it was too late, of course.”
Hutch’s eyes darted around the room, a caged animal searching desperately for a means of escape. His PhD was in philosophy, or so he said, but hers were in psychology and sociology, and she could read him like a book.
“This is…” he stammered. “You’re…”
She held a finger to her lips. “Shhh. Probably best not to say something you’ll regret later.”
He cleared his throat, appearing to regain some composure. “Why would anyone believe that I killed Archer? Even if you did out me as one of the people associated with those on the mountain, I’ve been hiding in plain sight. Everyone here knows I’m incapable of cold-blooded murder.”
“Perhaps,” she said. “But are you willing to take that chance? Especially with paranoia at an all-time high, now that spring is finally here? There are dozens of newcomers arriving every day, and every one of them is a potential saboteur in the eyes of the army.”
She watched with interest as the ghost of a smile formed on his lips.
“You’re forgetting one very salient point, my dear,” he said. “We’re now at détente: if you reveal me to the powers that be, I reveal you, as well. We’d both end up compromised.”
Ms. Sidley batted her eyelashes theatrically, reveling in the moment. “Reveal me as what, professor? The beloved surrogate mother to the children of the new republic? The woman who has Jax Booth’s full trust and confidence? The leader of the E Girls? What do you think the reaction would be if you tried to deflect blame for Archer’s murder onto me?”
That look of being trapped flashed across his face again. She could see his mind working furiously behind his eyes for long seconds before he finally turned his gaze to the floor, his shoulders slumping.
“You’re trapped, professor,” she cooed. “The sooner you accept that, the sooner we can start having some fun together.”
They began a conversation that would eventually touch on a number of subjects, none of which were of interest to young Lucas. He tuned them out as he stood in the corner of the office, staring out at the other children playing in the early spring sunshine. He saw Hayley stop and look in the direction of the window, and he waved to her. She caught his motion and waved back, then returned to whatever game they were all playing together.
For the first time since he and his friends had returned from their night in the woods, Lucas’s lips turned upwards at the edges into a smile. It looked for all the world like a normal child’s grin, but Emily Sidley, if she had seen it, would have noticed something unusual.
It didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Thank you from the Author
Thanks so much for getting this far! I hope that means you enjoyed the book! I love talking to readers, so if you ever want to say hello, drop me a line at [email protected].
It might take a while if I’m busy writing, but I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!
Oh - if you want to join a mailing list to keep updated on new releases, and get access to review copies (if that’s what you’re into) then it might be worth signing up here. I’m not going to email you more than once every few weeks, or when I have a new release, and you can always unsubscribe at any time!
[https://www.subscribepage.com/rileyflynn].
Riley.
P.S. Mike’s working on getting a mailing list set up….
P.P.S Keep reading for a preview of Perfect Storm, the first book in the main Collapse series…
Preview of Perfect Storm
Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the face. What’s yours..?
When the end came, it came fast. The Eko virus emerged from behind the North Korean DMZ. It spread like wildfire, burning through the world in a matter of weeks. Rumors spread that it was a weapon: a dying regime lashing out with deadly fury.
Millions died. Then billions. And then the blackouts began.
The cyber weapon hit hard, bringing a staggering world to a shuddering stop. Our cars, planes, power grid, communications networks, the internet … everything failed. It might have been humanity’s last shot at stopping the spread of the virus. But by then it was already too late. Society wobbled on the edge of disaster, and then plunged right off.
For Alexander Early, surviving the apocalypse was the easy bit. He played pool and drank warm beer while a perfect storm destroyed the world. But when the lights went out, Alex knew it was time to get the hell out of Dodge. Five years before
, tragedy had forced him away from the family farm in Virginia to a life in the city. Now the end of the world called him back.
Getting out of the city is only the start. Alex will face a virus he can't even see, and an enemy he's ill equipped to fight. But he'll have to learn fast.
Because he'll soon discover that the end of the world was no accident...
1
People have plans. Then people get punched in the face.
The words echoed around Alex's skull, each regretful syllable a ricochet that rattled around behind his eyes. Alex did not have a plan. So he ran through the darkness, alone.
A siren screamed. Shots fired on the other side of a wall. Sometimes, he thought, the only sure part of a plan was that it was doomed to fail. Plans were for other people.
And then someone punched Alex in the face.
The concrete floor caught him on the chin. He could feel the flesh around his eye unfurling into a bruise, the blood already bitter beneath the skin. Even with the mask, the force of the blow caught him off guard. The assailant had stepped out from a dark corridor and laid Alex flat. Then vanished.
The flicker of the old-style fluorescent lights was no help. All Alex could see were ghosts and shadows, shapes painted on the walls. The inside of the mask began to steam up again.
On the other side of the room, more shots rang out. Another shout. Someone was hit. His gloved fingers scratching on the ground, Alex rose to his feet. There was no time to wait, no time to stand still.
Weighing his pistol in his hand, he knew he was short. Always bring more bullets, Timmy had told him. But Timmy said a lot. Alex found an unlit niche and stepped inside.