by J. Thorn
“But it doesn’t make sense,” Leena said.
“Nothing does in those circumstances. It couldn’t. The world we knew ended and we were left to pick up the pieces and try to move on. You can’t make sense out of fear. You can’t understand it. You can only react to it. I did that by donning the patch and resisting and she did it by giving up and giving in.”
Alex never told John about his relationship with Jana despite all of their years together on the road. The revelation would do nothing but hurt John and Alex loved him too much to do that.
Leena hissed as if a whistle would have been disrespectful. “You ever wonder about her?”
“Every fucking day. She was my wife. I loved her. I still love her. I went through hell with Alex at my side to find her and when I did, she left me to die. And after all that, I still love her. I forget what she looks like. I mean, I have these vague visions of her, mostly the scent of her hair, but even that becomes more lost every day.”
“Do you regret that? Don’t you think it would have been easier if you never met Jana?”
“It ain’t about what’s easy, Leena. If you want to live, you eventually have to let others in. You have to let them see all of you, all of your ugly, vulnerable insecurities. Until you do, you’re not really living.”
“What about Matthew’s mom?” Leena asked.
“A woman I met on the road. I can barely remember her name and I don’t say that to diminish her as a person. It’s just the way things are now, especially outside of a chapter or probably behind the walls of the Republic, where they pretend to preserve some aspect of modern living. You meet people in passing and then they disappear like everything else. This woman, I happened to meet up with her again near Salt Lake City about three years later. She was really sick at the time and when she passed, I took her boy as my own.”
“You mean Matthew isn’t your son?”
“He’s my son. I raised him.”
Leena felt a tear breaking from the corner of her eye and brushed it away with a distracting sigh. “You should get some rest. Those stitches are going to hurt even more tomorrow than they did today. And if they don’t, it’s not healing right and we’ll have to get Alex to take a knife to it.”
John smiled and winced knowing that Leena’s joke was not as funny or impossible as she made it sound.
Chapter 9
Alex was the first to awaken even before the sun could drag itself over the horizon to throw meek light upon the frozen ground. He had not slept in years, at least not the way he defined it in his old lifestyle. Alex would drift into a semiconscious state and then reemerge from it being slightly less tired. He existed on less than he ever thought possible. Sometimes he looked back on those times and suppressed the ache the memories brought.
Alex would give anything to be late on the mortgage payment or to have to bring the car in for an oil change. He could not believe how much he missed the things he despised in his old life. It took him years to bury the emotions around his family, and while he never could quite lay those raw nerves to rest, he survived long stretches by paralyzing his emotions with violence, women and the occasional drink on the road. As the remaining members drew closer to Cleveland and what John believed would be a resolution of sorts, Alex felt like giving up. His desire to survive lessened with each day as other aches and pains now consumed his body. In the early morning hours, his knees screamed at him and he could swear someone stabbed him in the lower back during the night, leaving the cold blade embedded in his spine.
Alex looked out upon the empty highway where the other half of the Keepers left during the night. Many of his old friends were gone, probably forever. He chose to place his fate in the hands of the president, two kids and the three founders who would remain loyal to the chapter at all costs. When he thought of Matthew and Leena, he could not help but think about Jana and those long-gone days. Through everything, the prosperous times and the lean ones, Alex never mentioned her to John. He decided their relationship would go with him to his grave.
He loved her, and truth be told, he loved John, too. That was not something openly discussed in these times, as people kept their heads down and their hearts closed for fear of loss. But Alex considered John his brother in the truest sense of the word and he would not harm the brother he loved with an irrelevant relationship from the past. They had plenty of emotional scar tissue and it formed for a reason.
“They left.”
Alex turned to see the whites of Matthew’s eyes glistening against the dark scarf wrapped around his face. The young man always kept his Keeper’s vest on top of everything else, proudly displaying the chapter’s patch on his back. But Alex noticed Matthew carried less confidence than prior to the fight. The road did that to people. It had a way of turning them into lesser versions of themselves.
“Gone. Sometime during the night. Probably better that way.” Alex sighed. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ll live,” Matthew said.
“You hope,” Alex said.
“Can I ask you something, vice?”
Alex smiled, surprised Matthew posed the question and called him by his official title. “Sure.”
“Why is my father so intent on getting to Cleveland? What’s going down there that he knows and we don’t?”
Alex kicked the snow at his feet and shook his head. “He’s the president. I trust him.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Matthew said. “I didn’t ask you if you trusted him.”
“He knows there isn’t much future for us, the founders and older members. I think he’s trying to find a final moment of peace while ensuring you have a future.”
“And that’s in Cleveland?”
“That’s what he says,” Alex said. “I think he knew the Republic finally had a bead on us and the camp on the bank of the Ohio River would have become our grave.”
“You think the rest of the Keepers are returning to die? You and my father let them go.”
“We didn’t let them do anything. They chose their path the same way we’re choosing ours.”
“Sounds like a cop out,” Matthew said. “Sounds like you’re trying to wash your hands of their blood.”
“I don’t give a fuck what it sounds like, son. Your father and I started this chapter. We’ve been loyal to the Keepers for all of these years and I intend to hold onto that. It’s the only thing I’ve got.”
Matthew stood still as Alex brushed past him and back toward the tent where the others began to stir.
***
“It’s an old rest area near Ravenna. Puts us a day or two from the outskirts of Cleveland,” John said.
The founders nodded while Leena put a hand over her eyes to take a better look at the crumbling structure. Rust grew over the steel beams in the center of the dome but not the blackened, charred remains of its interior. She could imagine the size of the fire that burnt through the structure. The corpses of automobiles sat scattered around the building as if paying homage to it. She squinted at the ramp from the turnpike and could not see any footprints.
“I think we should survey it. See what’s left,” said Matthew.
John nodded at Matthew and then turned to face Alex. “Vice?”
“Agreed,” Alex said. “The road bandits tend to use the rest stops as a place to stash weapons. As long as we don’t see footprints, I think it’s worth a look.”
James, Billy and Dino shook their heads. Dino pulled his vest tight across his chest while Billy’s fingers massaged the taped end of his aluminum baseball bat.
“Keep your eyes open,” John said as he started down the embankment toward the structure. His calf burned where the stitches held his flesh together. He shuddered when thinking about the pain he would endure when they made camp for the night and how his skin would tighten as it tried to heal.
Matthew led with Alex on his left. The three musketeers spread out behind them and Leena walked next to John. As they approached where the main doors used to be, Joh
n felt a wave of nostalgia strike. He stopped here many times in his youth for a coffee and a bathroom break. The images of the vending machines and people shuttling by flashed in his mind for a moment before dissipating like smoke.
Once at the main entrance, Matthew picked through an open area cleared after the initial destruction of the rest stop. The snow did not reach the interior but the fact that there were no footprints outside made him feel slightly more secure. Still, Matthew kept his knife out and the others followed with an air of caution.
The group moved past a mountain of vending machines and through an L-shaped hallway that used to be the men’s room. Piles of porcelain rubble lay on the floor while many of the doors covering the stalls remained hanging by a single hinge like a decayed tooth. The wild animals emptied the vending machines of their spoils leaving nothing but fluttering wrappers. John raised a hand and moved past each stall to make sure they were empty. The dust held in even layers throughout, indicating nobody had been in there for quite some time. He continued to methodically check each stall until he came to the last one, which was larger than the rest. He placed his hand on the faded blue sign hanging on the wall, the one with a figure seated upon two wheels.
“Handicapped,” he whispered as he peered inside. While it was not what he was expecting, the sight was a welcome one. John found a cache of weapons.
***
James was the first to pick up a bow, an old compound with a sixty-pound drawback.
“Been a long time since I seen one in this good shape. Used to buck hunt with one near Butler. Remember that stand we used to have, Dino?”
“Oh, man. Those were the days. Grab a six-pack of Iron City and a bag of chips and, man, I coulda sat up there all day long. Even in the cold.”
Dino grabbed a bow and stepped back to allow the others to choose one too.
“Looks like a box of carbon arrows over there. Should be enough to give us all the ability to attack from a distance,” Alex said.
“Provided the Republic isn’t waiting with an armory of guns,” Matthew said. He held his old bow at his side, suddenly feeling outgunned by the founders with their new compounds.
“Depending on how much ammo they’ve squirreled away, that could very well be the case,” John said.
Alex handed one to Leena. She pulled it back and smiled.
“Let’s find us a spot to practice,” John said while looking back toward the entrance to the restroom. “Preferably something inside at no more than a one-hundred-yard range. Anything further is unlikely to be either accurate or powerful enough to stop an attacker.”
“I agree,” Alex said. “The domed roof over the food court is gone but I think it’s about a hundred yards from end to end. Gonna get me a cheeseburger before we get started.”
The founders smiled and followed Alex out while Leena and Matthew chalked the comment up as another reference to dead culture.
***
The chapter spent most of the afternoon with their newly acquired bows. James regained his archery skills faster than the others. Leena was able to place her shots with enough accuracy to build the group’s confidence in the decision to remain on the turnpike and onward to Cleveland. Leena never used a bow before and struggled at first, chaffing her hand.
The founders joked and teased each other, happy to be doing something other than walking the barren, snow-covered turnpike toward an uncertain end. Once back on the road, the sullen mood returned with few words being exchanged.
John led them to the place where he remembered the interstate bearing north, taking him up old Route 271 and toward the eastern suburbs of Cleveland. He said little as he walked the roadways he had driven in his old life. John saw the remnants of shopping centers, office buildings and even medical centers that suffered the neglect over the years. Some stood with the scars of unintended and unattended fire, while others drooped under the battering forces of northeast Ohio winters. He knew Alex was probably having the same thoughts, as were the musketeers, while Leena and Matthew saw them simply as relics of a world that no longer existed.
As the sun set on the opposite side of the highway and the group came closer to the ruins of the city, John detected a single light in the window of a high-rise office building. He knew the Republic worked hard over the past ten years to restore some parts of the old grid. Even without a centralized engineering team, they were successful in some areas. He kept walking toward the light, knowing it was going to bring him closer to his people or to the guards of the Republic. And either way, he was craving an end.
Chapter 10
The sergeant bit his bottom lip. He turned and slid down the hillside until he regained his balance at the bottom. Several men in frayed fatigues stood in a semicircle awaiting his command.
“They’re coming up 271 about three miles from the perimeter.”
“How many?” one of the men asked.
“Seven. Hard to identify but I recognize the president, his vice and the woman.”
The soldiers stood, swaying in the northeasterly wind cutting down the embankment and pushing snow across their boots. The sergeant looked into their face and sensed a mix of fear and respect. Just the way he liked it.
“Orders?” another asked.
“Haven’t changed. We get them to Gate Seven, collect the bounty and let the high command handle it from there.”
“We don’t engage?”
“Negative. Not unless they come at us. I’m following chain of command here, which dictates we get them to the perimeter but we don’t let them breach.”
The sergeant looked at each of the men, realizing they couldn’t understand. “Listen. It doesn’t matter what we think of the order. Decisions are made by the Republic and we carry them out. That’s how it works. If you can’t handle that, turn in your gear, walk through Gate Seven and pull your boots up. They’re always looking for more men to shovel manure.”
The wind burst across their faces with a rattle, forcing the men to drop their chins to their chests. The sergeant detected nods from each of the soldiers as the act of hard labor versus bounty hunting bounced inside their heads.
“We all good?” he asked them.
“Yes, sergeant. We’re all good,” the man closest to him said.
Before the sergeant could speak again, a young soldier appeared through the falling snow.
“They’re leaving the highway,” he said. “And there’re others.”
***
“Let me see your patch,” John said as the two strangers stepped over the guardrail and waited for him to approach. “Turn around.”
The strangers obeyed. They spun to show John a Keepers of the Wormwood patch sewn onto the backs of black-leather vests. The frayed strings of their patches danced in the storm’s fury.
“Okay,” John said, satisfied with the authenticity of their cuts. “Indies or chapter members?”
The men waited for John to hobble toward them.
“Members. I’m Connor. This is Quinn.”
John nodded at them both. He extended a hand to Connor, shook and then did the same with Quinn. Both men wore torn pants with silver tape holding their boots to their feet. Connor wore a black scarf around his head while Quinn’s was gray. John noticed a bulge on each hip where the men carried knives.
“Which chapter?” John asked.
“Chagrin,” Connor said.
Quinn had yet to speak. John turned to look over a shoulder and then nodded to summon the rest of his chapter.
“Chapter of the Phoenix,” he said to Connor. “At least what’s left of it. Half split on the road and turned back to Pittsburgh. I’m the president and this is my vice.”
Alex stood next to John but did not say a word.
“And this is Matthew, Leena, James, Dino and Billy.”
Everyone stood in the blinding snow as John finished the introductions.
“Coming up the middle of 271 like that? Shit. You might as well show your patches to the Republic’s guards. You’re only
a few miles from the perimeter,” Connor said.
“We’re not worried. Time to start pulling chapters together before the Republic takes us all out,” replied John.
Connor nodded and tapped Quinn on the shoulder. “Let’s get off the highway. I think they fired the last of the stockpiled ammunition last year, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t found more. I’d rather not take a bullet to the chest if I don’t have to.”
John smiled. He already liked Connor. He’s been through the First Cleansing, he thought. Probably a founder, like me.
Connor and Quinn raised a leg over the guardrail and walked toward the corpse of a restaurant perched on a slow rise above the highway. They trudged through the snow toward a steel door propped against an opening. John looked up and saw curls of smoke coming out of the top of the jumbled beams of steel, tossed like twigs from an ancient explosion.
“What’s on the menu?” he asked as the rest of his chapter followed.
“Same special as yesterday,” Connor said. “Jack shit.”
***
“Probably Chagrin. We got intel on them in this area. They don’t seem to have enough manpower to make a run at Gate Seven, but command asked us to monitor their movements.”
The sergeant nodded. He was on the road for decades, never having the time or motivation to learn the tribal politics forming in the zones just beyond the Republic’s reach. He was paid to maintain power, not to become an expert on organized resistance.
“What have you monitored?” he asked.
The soldier huddled around the rusted steel drum with flames licking at its edges. He put his hands over the fire and rubbed them together as others did the same throughout the camp.
“A handful hunkered down in a collapsed structure off of 271.”
“And?” the sergeant asked.
“And what? That’s what we know.”
“Name? Numbers?”
The soldier sighed.
“Chagrin. That’s all we know. Based on the frequency of activity, I’m guessing less than five.”