Irish End Games, Books 4-5-6

by Kiernan-Lewis, Susan

“I know that,” Fiona said, smoothing Hannah’s hair off her brow. “We’re all just doing what’s necessary to survive.”

  Hannah pulled back. “I want you to know that I won’t do it no more. I promise you.”

  “Hannah, it’s okay.”

  “The rest of ‘em hate me.”

  “They don’t. They understand.” Fiona wasn’t sure if that was absolutely true but the girl was upset enough. Now was not the time for underscoring obvious facts.

  “I mean it,” Hannah said. “I won’t do it no more.”

  Fiona patted her shoulder. “I think, Hannah, you can help us more by continuing to let them think you’re their creature. Can you do that?”

  Hannah’s face twisted into threat of more tears. “But why?”

  “I don’t know, petal,” Fiona said as she held the girl to her bosom. “There may come a time when their trust in you will be the only edge we have.”

  Three hours later the atmosphere in the tent was chilled and muted. Every woman in it had spent the last five hours on her feet, tending the children, helping the midwife, encouraging Julie. Every woman in that tent had watched their sister, their own mirror image, as she labored.

  “I cheated ‘em! The bastards. I cheated ‘em good!” Julie screamed, her face mottled with red, spittle flying from her lips. She flung an arm out, catching the midwife full across the face. Fiona and Nuala ran to Julie.

  “Did ye see her, Fi?” Julie said, grabbing Fiona’s hands, while Nuala helped Mrs. Reidy to her feet. The midwife’s face was etched in the exhaustion of the battle she’d just fought.

  “Did ye see my little lass?”

  “Aye, Julie,” Fiona said through her tears. “I did. As pretty as a prayer.” Fiona didn’t look at the quiet bundle lying on the table behind them. The cord wasn’t wrapped around her neck, she wasn’t blue or even red. There was no reason or understanding why the perfectly formed babe had been born dead.

  Mrs. Reidy packed her bag, a red stripe against her cheek where Julie had hit her. She slipped from the tent, her shoulders slumped in exhaustion and defeat.

  “They fattened me up for nine months,” Julie cried, weeping, “but I stole her away from them. Didn’t I, Fi? Didn’t I?”

  “They’ll not have your perfect lass,” Fiona said, smoothing Julie’s brow with a trembling hand. The rest of the women sat nearby, their faces streaming for the infant who lay surrounded by candles and lovingly wrapped in the blanket Julie had knitted for her.

  Only the sounds of the heartbroken mother filled the tent. Nuala caught Fiona’s eye over Julie’s bowed head and her message could not have been clearer if she’d spoken out loud.

  We can’t wait much longer.

  Chapter 31

  Mike stared at Tommy as if he couldn’t possibly have heard correctly. A total eclipse of the sun? Could that be true? How the hell could the lad know that?

  “When?” Mike asked.

  “Day after tomorrow. Midday.”

  Mike felt the tips of his fingers tingle as he attempted to tamp down his excitement. If Tommy was correct, the fact that everything was going to go unexpectedly dark in the middle of the day was very good news indeed.

  If he was correct.

  “That’s good, lad,” Mike said staring into space, distracted.

  “How can ye be sure?” Gavin asked Tommy.

  “I’m sure because before the soldiers came I had special plans for that day,” Tommy said bitterly. “So, aye, I’m sure. Two days from now at twelve seventeen exactly, the stars will align—or at least the moon will—and create nearly forty minutes of nighttime in the middle of the day.”

  That night Mike didn’t sleep at all. With the thought of Davey edging closer to his execution by the hour and Jaz somewhere on the outside waiting for them and ready to do God knows what to get herself killed, Mike knew he had to act quickly. They couldn’t wait. He didn’t know if Tommy’s eclipse was their only chance but right now he had to assume it was. He didn’t have time to wait for something else to present itself. Waiting any longer doomed Davey and eventually all of them. Just knowing the hour and the day of their escape attempt was thrilling and horrifying.

  The hour of our deaths…

  Now if he could only be sure of the plan to go along with the timing.

  The next morning as the other men were fighting for their breakfast, Mike went to Ryan and bent close to his ear.

  “Tell Jaz there’s going to be a solar eclipse right after noon tomorrow. If she can create some kind of diversion just before it gets dark, say twelve ten or so, we’ll be able to overpower the guards.”

  Ryan frowned. “How in the world do you know there’ll be an eclipse?”

  “That doesn’t matter. But you need to tell her to wait until it’s nearly dark.”

  “What kind of distraction?”

  “Nothing too risky. Screaming might work. Or start a fire in the woods outside the camp. But not near the front gate.”

  “Because that’s where you’ll attempt to escape?” Ryan asked.

  “That’s right.”

  Ryan shook his head. “Won’t you all be at the mines during the time of the eclipse?”

  “Tommy thinks we’ll have rain tomorrow but in case we don’t, he says he can slip under the transport truck and cut the gas line. It’s just temporary but it should keep us here until noon.”

  Ryan sucked in a breath and glanced over at Tommy, his brow drawn together in a frown. He didn’t respond.

  “If we are forced to go to the mines,” Mike said as if filling in the details of the plan in his own mind as he spoke, “then when it gets dark enough we’ll use whatever’s at hand to overpower the guards and make a run from there. In that case, tell her we’ll meet her back at the compound.”

  Ryan nodded. “It’s a decent plan,” he said.

  “It’ll probably get us all killed,” Mike growled. “But in the long run so will staying.”

  That day at the mine was a repeat of the day before except Mike was fighting through the sore muscles he’d created yesterday. Without gloves, Gavin built blisters upon blisters but he never complained. At the end of the day, Carey had to be lifted into the back of the truck as he’d stupidly dropped a rock on his foot. Mike honestly believed if the idiot had done it sooner, the guards would have shot him for trying to get out of work. But as he did it so late in the day, they couldn’t be bothered. In spite of how his foot must have pained him, Carey was in good spirits—another testimony to his stupidity. If he was thinking he wouldn’t have to work tomorrow because of it, he was likely wrong. And a gimpy foot meant he’d not be able to run as fast when the time came to bolt.

  That night when they returned to the hut, Mike was surprised to see that several servings of food had been saved for him and Gavin. He ate silently until Ryan sidled over to his bunk. Mike stiffened, although he’d been waiting all day to hear of the priest’s meeting with Jaz. Tommy, Gavin and Terry clustered around to hear.

  Ryan began speaking without preamble.

  “Jaz said she’s stolen a chunk of C-4 from the ammo dump from a bloke she got friendly with last night. As she clearly lived to tell the tale, I didn’t ask for details.”

  “C-4?” Mike said. His mouth fell open.

  “Beats the shite out of a fire in the woods,” Gavin said. “Or screaming.”

  “She’s unbelievable,” Mike said.

  “She’s fecking Wonder Woman, is what she is,” Tommy said proudly. “Did she say how much she got?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Mike said. “An explosion is more than we could’ve hoped for. She’s giving us every chance to pull this off.”

  “Do you have any suggestions about where exactly I should tell her to set the charge?” Ryan asked.

  Mike narrowed his eyes at him. “I thought you said you couldn’t risk a third meeting.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Yes, I did. Of course. Too right. Just got carried away.”

  A long spate of coughing erupted from
Davey’s bunk. He hadn’t gotten out of bed all day. The guards would surely take him to the sick tent tomorrow.

  “Will he be strong enough to come with us?” Mike asked Terry in a low voice.

  “I’ll carry him if I have to,” Terry said firmly.

  A few hours later as Mike sat on his bunk, his arms still trembling from the heavy rocks he’d lifted that day, he ran the plan over and over in his mind. It was simple—the way Mike liked all his plans. But he better than anyone knew that just because the scheme didn’t have a lot of moving parts didn’t mean it couldn’t go badly wrong.

  Something was bothering him in the back of his mind. He knew it had to do with either something Ryan had said or had hinted at. But it had been a long hard day and the relentless dissection of the details of the plan and the agonizing anticipation of tomorrow soon swamped the nagging feeling.

  He envisioned the moment that the eclipse plunged the camp into darkness, with the explosion providing the distraction at noon. As soon as they heard it go off, he and the others would overpower the guards and meet Jaz at the gate entrance where they’d disappear into the woods that fringed the camp. The soldiers weren’t trackers, there were no dogs to worry about. His eyes widened. Did Jaz know where to meet them? Had he told Ryan to have her meet them at the front gate? Anxiety turned into intense fatigue and he forced himself to let it go. It was too late now. Whatever would be…

  As Mike lay his head down and just before sleep claimed him the thought flitted through his brain that they were betting a whole lot of lives on the word of one murdering liar.

  Chapter 32

  The man looked at least forty to Mac but claimed he was ten years younger. Sinead had found this one as they were driving down the street. The others they had found in what used to be the halfway house near the prison. That had been her idea and she’d been spot-on. Three men had been happy to pile into the van he and Sinead had purchased that afternoon. Three men only too happy to take their money for whatever depravity or atrocity that was required of them.

  What ex-con wouldn’t be happy with cash, three squares and the opportunity to act out every base instinct that was in him? Except they weren’t ex-cons at all, of course. When the EMP dropped, the hydraulic locks on all the cages all over Ireland had ceased to work, instantly freeing every murdering, thieving scumbag in the country—including Mac. Same with the insane asylums.

  He supposed he should be glad Sinead hadn’t suggested looking there. Not yet anyway.

  “And all I have to do is drive around the country looking for women?” The man grinned showing most of his top teeth were gone, no doubt forced down his throat by somebody’s fist.

  “There’ll be a few other tasks as we go on,” Mac said tightly.

  Sinead must be out of her mind. Did she really expect these men to follow orders? Follow my orders?

  “Count me in, your honor,” the man said, licking his lips and looking past Mac to where Sinead waited in the sedan in front of the van.

  “There are three other men in the van,” Mac said. “You drive and follow us. If we lose you, we’ll assume you’re attempting to steal our vehicle—”

  “Don’t fash yourself, squire,” the man said, snatching the keys from Mac’s fingers. “Why would I run from three squares and the chance to drive me own motor?”

  “So he’s a good one?” Sinead asked as Mac joined her in the car.

  “Sinead,” he said, “why wouldn’t any of these bastards turn on us? Have ye thought of that?”

  “Sure, they won’t, Mac darlin,” Sinead said, putting the car in gear and glancing at the van in her rear view mirror. “I’ve got you to sort them out.”

  She was mocking him. Mac clamped a lid on his building frustration. If she didn’t think he could handle them then why were they doing this? Earlier that afternoon, they’d paid a visit to the OB/GYN physician’s home. Since Mac had made it clear how he felt about the man Sinead had insisted he wait in the car while she went inside to talk to him. Just watching her come out of the bastard’s house, wreathed in smiles like all her troubles were over, gave Mac a sickening moment of worry.

  Was she insane? Because up to now that hadn’t been something he’d seriously considered. But happily collaborating with known a sexual criminal wasn’t normal. Not in anybody’s book.

  She still looked in the mirror at the van behind them. “Did you tell him about needing him in our insemination program?”

  Lately she’d begun using that phrase like it was a real thing—as if all it took were special words to turn it into a proper business and not what it really was.

  “Does the new man know there’ll be other perks to the job?”

  “No, I didn’t tell him he’ll get to rape women as a part of his job description.”

  She pressed her lips together in a firm line.

  “What is the matter with you?” she said, her eyes on the road as she drove. “You know the procurement portion of our business cannot be a delicate one. That’s unfortunate, of course it is, but the women need to be found and then forcibly taken from situations where we have to assume people will resist us. We need men who will do what needs to be done.”

  Mac knew that was a slap at him. He forced himself not to respond.

  “Look, Mac,” she said, her voice soft and wheedling, “what I didn’t tell you earlier is that we’re getting more and more requests for older children.”

  He looked at her and frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “Since the demand for babies is outstripping our ability to supply them they’re asking for…children now too.”

  Mac felt his stomach muscles clench. She wouldn’t.

  “You’re not thinking of the children at the camp? The women’s children?”

  “I don’t want to, Mac. I’m not a monster. Besides, the children are the only leverage I have over them. If their children are gone, the women might refuse to eat, or even self-abort. No, the answer is more women. And these men are how we get them.”

  Mac kept his eyes on the road but he felt his stomach muscles tighten. A band of killers and degenerates who’ve only committed worse crimes since the EMP four years ago were going to be the answer to their problem? Sinead really was mad.

  “As soon as we get back,” she said, “you’ll lead the new men on a raid. It will give you a chance to feel them out—and also to reinforce that you’re the boss. You’ll bring back new women and we’ll be able to go on as before. Problem solved.”

  Mac watched Sinead’s profile as she spoke. Her face was relaxed as she outlined her plan to keep the camp going. For a moment he could even imagine how she must have looked as a girl. Surely, she must have been all plans and hopes and dreams. He knew some bad things had happened to her, but right now as she talked with excitement of her plans for the future, he saw the lass she must have been once.

  Maybe my main job is to help her find her way back to that lass that the world hadn’t hurt. Maybe in the end, what Sinead really needs is someone to look out for her and make her feel safe.

  That was a job Mac felt he was up for.

  “Are you listening, Mac?”

  “I am,” he said, starting to relax. Things were going to be fine. They had a plan and the world no longer cared about rules anyway. “I heard the cook talking about a caravan of gypsies camped out by the—”

  “Don’t be stupid,” she said with impatience. “Gypsies inbreed. How much do you think people will pay for a cross-eyed simpleton? Stay away from the gypsies until we get really desperate. And we’re not there yet.”

  “Where do ye suggest we find these childbearing women then? Back in Dublin?”

  “I think we stick to the country as long as we can. When and if any kind of law does return to Ireland, it’ll come to the cities first. No, as it happens, I know of a functioning community of women not eighty kilometers from the camp.”

  “Are ye serious?”

  “As a canker sore, I am.” She glanced at his expression
of surprise and laughed. “It’s a place where wayward girls are stored away like bad rubbish.”

  “Is that what happened to you?”

  Her face hardened in a flash. “Me mum and step-father dumped me there. Mostly just to get rid of me but I suppose I was a little too hot for me own good.”

  Mac’s brow knitted together in confusion.

  “Cor, Sinead, how is it no one’s ever heard of a community nearby with only women in it?”

  “I’m probably one of only a very few people who know of it outside the Vatican and trust me, even they’ve forgotten about it by now.”

  “The Vatican?”

  “That’s right, lover. Starting tomorrow morning you and our new friends in the van behind us are going to take a trip to the convent of Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow.”

  **********

  Three days of living in the far corner of the compound had been hard on all of them. There was no point in working the ground or repairing any of the structural damage so Archie and John focused purely on trapping game for their meals. Sarah was afraid shooting game might call attention to themselves and so there were nights when all they ate was canned goods.

  Are we really going to have to live like frightened church mice? she thought angrily as she opened a can of corn. Afraid that someone might know we’re here? Hiding in order to live?

  She knew she needed to be a role model especially for the young people, but she was cranky and out of sorts. There was no doubt in her mind that her labor was coming and soon. She couldn’t rest or get comfortable. She was fidgety all the time and snapping at anybody who came too close. Even poor Archie.

  John came into view down the walkway. He and Regan had been taking turns scouting the perimeter of the compound hourly. Again, Sarah thought with frustration, not that it would do any good if they were attacked—except to get to the root cellars in time and hide and pray the attackers didn’t do a thorough job of searching the place.