by Ryan King
Ernest sat back with his head against the wall.
“Hey, man,” said a voice across the hall from him.
Looking outward, Ernest saw a small Hispanic man. “Yeah?”
“He called you Ernest and you talked about running for president.” The man paused. “Are you really that same Ernest Givens? The guy from the Battle of Paducah and the Long Walk and the Resistance?”
“I guess I am,” answered Ernest with a wry smile.
“So why you deciding to run for president?” the man asked.
Ernest noticed that nearly everyone in the jail cell was now paying attention. Hell, he thought, these are potential voters, too.
So he told them. He talked about the injustices he had witnessed and his fear of key individuals holding power. Ernest expressed misgivings about the lack of transparency and how there were too many forgotten citizens. He expressed outrage over the continued wars and broken currency promises. He told them how Reggie Phillips was no longer the man to lead the JP and how if they continued on their current path for much longer there wouldn’t be much left.
And they listened.
There was one pale, thin, former meth user sitting at the end of the hallway, Spence Pruitt.
Somewhere between his sophomore and junior years of high school, Spence had gone off the rails badly. Before he had been an A’s and B’s student gifted in art and music. He had followed the rules and respected his teachers and parents.
Then Lisa happened. She was sexy and fun and always seemed at ease. Taking notice of Spence, they had quickly fallen in together. Spence had always been a secluded loner and girls were a mystery. Lisa broke down all his barriers and didn’t care if he didn’t know what to do or say. Lisa became the only really important thing in his life. The center about which all other things diminished in importance when compared to her. He had loved her more than he had ever loved anything in his whole life.
But she had not felt the same. It became obvious that he was simply short-term entertainment for her. Even after Spence had learned she was sleeping around, he had forced himself not to believe the rumors, even when he knew they were true. She tried less and less to hide her other affairs as she grew more bored with Spence. Others could see that he was a discarded play toy to her, but Spence couldn’t accept the loss of the center of his universe. If nothing else mattered as much as her, how could anything matter without her?
His parents had seen what was happening and tried to talk some sense into him, but he would not listen. Finally, she had publically rejected him in the most humiliating fashion possible. Spence had run away for awhile and then fallen in with a group of boys he had known when he was younger. Soon his life was characterized by booze and pot and not caring anymore. Spence had joined them.
His grades, interests, and relationship with his parents had deteriorated. They had tried to talk to him and pull him back in, but Spence no longer cared about what happened to him, and his self-pity didn’t allow room for him to care about others. Before long, he was staying away from home for days at a time and was smoking meth nearly every day.
Several more times they tried to help, but he still wouldn’t listen to their anguished entreaties. It was only a few days before N-Day when he saw his parents last. He had agreed to go with them on a beach vacation down to their old spot in Gulf Shores, Alabama. He remembered it fondly from his time as a young boy, running and playing in the sun and sand and crashing waves. They had all been happy then. His parents were willing to spend money they didn’t have to try and draw him back.
The morning they were supposed to leave, he rejected them for the last time. Lashing out with all his anger, resentment, and humiliation, they became the target of it all. The more hurt their faces became the more he poured it on. When his mother started crying, he had smiled and reveled in the power he had. It was only when he lay bleeding on the ground that he stopped.
Looking up, he had seen his father shaking and crying himself. That caused Spence to pause. He could never recall seeing his father cry. The small, powerful, professional welder massaged the hand he had used to strike his son. He looked like he had wanted to say something, but then turned away, herded his distraught mother into the car, and drove away forever.
After N-Day, Spence had smoked meth like it was part of some race he wanted to win. When the basic chemicals used to make meth ran out, he switched to anything else he could find to buy: crack cocaine, oxycodone, marijuana, even ecstasy. When those had finally run out, he had smoked or snorted anything with even the mild promise of temporary oblivion.
After six months, there was nothing left. He sat in his parents’ house staring at himself in pictures displayed prominently all around the house. With a painful breakdown, he truly realized how much his parents had loved him and what he had done to them.
Spence had tried to hang himself using an electric extension cord from the ceiling fan in the den, but it had crashed down onto his head, knocking him unconscious. When he awoke, he discovered that he was sitting in a pool of his own urine and that the ceiling fan had smashed the display case containing all his mother’s treasured Hummel figurines.
Her favorite had been the one he had cut grass for months and saved to buy her. A small boy holding flowers with a slight smile. A boy that looked like Spence.
Now it sat in pieces.
How much more damage can you do? he heard her voice say.
Spence had laid there in the glass and his own piss and cried, for everything.
Since that day he had tried to go forward, but he didn’t seem to know how. What little manual labor was to be had he tried to get, and it was barely enough for him to feed himself. Always an artist and musician, he found creativity just too much work now. One day blended into the next seamlessly, and Spence waited for something, anything to happen.
He had not intended to go to the Givens Rally. Spence had come to the courthouse to renew his ration card when he heard the crowds and voices. After getting his card from the county clerk, he had wandered down to hear what was being said.
Not much of it made sense, and Spence found his mind wandering as it did these days, but he liked the energy. The feel of being around masses of humanity. He could scream and yell like they did without even knowing what it was about. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel alone.
When people started punching and smashing, Spence didn’t hesitate. He joined in with gleeful abandon. He grinned foolishly and laughed with near hysteria as he kicked and punched strangers. He took his own fair share of kicks and strikes in return as one look at his face would attest, but he had hardly felt them. It had been liberating, like a shade pulled up on a dark room.
Now he sat and listened fascinated to what Givens said. The man was really talking to them, like they were important and he cared what they thought. Givens even locked eyes with Spence several times.
Spence began to smile, a lightness filling his chest. He knew what he needed to do now to make everything right.
Chapter 14 - The Return
Joshua, Conrad, and Trailer had been able to make their way out of Huntsville in their new disguise with surprising ease. They had of course drawn plenty of attention on the way, but figured everyone just assumed they were taking the unfortunate Trailer out into the nether regions of the city to execute him and leave his body as a sign for others.
After linking up with the rest of the squad, they continued north through the Creek Nation and up into JP. Their going was slow because Wildcat wasn’t nearly as fast on straightaways as the bicycles were, but she made up for it on hills, quickly outpacing everyone with Trailer mocking them all the way. They had taken to placing most of their extra gear on her substantial rump and towing the three-wheeled cargo bicycle in tough spots.
Joshua sensed something was wrong when he approached the New Harvest headquarters. People greeted him, but dropped their eyes, some even saying they were sorry for his loss. Joshua began to get a premonition, a certainty, that
his father was dead. He had come close to losing him before, and now he was gone for good.
He raced ahead of his comrades to the large sturdy cabin that served as the New Harvest administrative governance building. He found his father with Colonel Luke Carter and couldn’t help giving Nathan a hug.
“Glad you made it back safely, son,” said Nathan.
“I need to talk to you about what we found out,” said Joshua, looking at Luke.
“That can wait,” said Nathan. “I’m afraid I have some very bad news to tell you.”
Joshua stiffened. “What?”
“I’m sorry to tell you that...” Nathan stopped and looked away before continuing. “That your mom got malaria. Everyone did what they could, but it just hit her so fast. She wasn’t able to fight it off. I’m sorry, son. She died earlier this week.”
Joshua just stared at him.
“Did you hear me?” asked Nathan.
“Mom’s dead?” Joshua shook his head. “I don’t understand. I saw her just before I left.”
“I know,” said Nathan. “It took me by surprise as well. She was the finest woman I’ve ever met and I certainly didn’t deserve her.” Nathan’s jaw clinched, holding in emotion. “Anyway, she’s gone now. I’m sorry.”
“When was the funeral?”
“Earlier this week,” said Nathan, putting his arm around his son. “She was proud of you. I hope you know that.”
Joshua nodded. “Can I go see her?”
“Yes,” Nathan sighed. “I’m afraid that isn’t the end of the bad news.”
“Oh, hell, what else?”
“Alexandra got malaria as well.”
“She’s not...dead, is she?”
Nathan shook her head. “She recovering, but...”
Joshua didn’t wait to hear the rest. His father yelled for him to stop, but Joshua ignored him. He sprinted across the paths and under shaded forest clearings until he leaped up the steps of his home. He burst in to find his grandmother sitting in their living room sleeping.
She awoke, startled at the sound of him coming in. “Oh, Joshua,” she said, putting a hand over her heart.
“Where is she?”
“Shush,” she said. “Alexandra is sleeping. She needs her rest, but the doctor said she’s going to be okay.”
“Can I see her?”
His grandmother nodded sadly.
Joshua walked in their bedroom and was stunned by how pale and thin Alexandra appeared. She actually looked vulnerable for the first time he could ever remember. Alexandra was the strongest and fiercest person he had ever met; she even frightened him sometimes when she went off alone to hunt. He took a deep breath and grasped her hand, finding it cool to the touch.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “You’re here.”
“Yes, I’m here,” he said, bending down to kiss and stroke her forehead. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here before.”
“Did they tell you?” she asked as a tear rolled down her cheek.
He nodded. “But you’re getting better now. That’s all that matters.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “They killed our baby.”
Joshua stared at uncomprehendingly. “What are you talking about?”
“The medicine they gave me. I miscarried.”
Looking from his wife back towards the living room where his grandmother sat he didn’t know what to say.
She grasped his hand and looked at him with fire in her eyes. “As soon as I have my strength back, I’m going to kill that woman.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Joshua. “Who?”
“Your grandmother. She’s the one who told them to use those untested antibiotics on me.”
“Grandma?” Joshua said, again looking towards the living room. “You don’t mean that.”
Alexandra nodded. “Yes. I’ve been thinking about it. I’m going to let her run and then hunt her down like a frightened rabbit. Once I catch her, I’m going to field dress her like a deer and cut her throat. Might even eat her heart. You know the Iroquois used to do that to enemies they vanquished in battle.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” said Joshua.
“It wasn’t her decision to make,” said Alexandra angrily.
“Well, if those drugs saved your life, I would have told the doctor to give them to you as well.”
She pulled her hand from out of his. “You wouldn’t.”
Joshua nodded. “I wouldn’t have sat here and done nothing and let you die.”
“Get out.”
“Alexandra.”
“Get out!” she hissed.
Joshua did.
*******
Conrad and Trailer came into the headquarters after Joshua had already left.
“Gentlemen,” said Conrad, saluting both Luke and Nathan.
Nathan waved the salute away. “Have a seat, Conrad. Thanks for bringing my...” he trailed off as he looked at the huge form of Trailer ducking under the doorframe to come into the room.
“Who’s your little friend?” asked Luke.
Nathan was pointing at him. “You’re... Aren’t you Horace Trailer Smiley?”
Trailer sheepishly nodded.
Nathan smiled widely. “You were one of my favorite players. All-Conference your freshman year and then you got hurt. Ankle, wasn’t it?”
“Knee,” said Trailer. “Had to have it scoped.”
“Damn shame,” said Nathan, shaking his head. “You were a lock for the NBA for sure.”
“That’s what everyone says,” Trailer muttered through a forced smile.
“Are we done with basketball memories?” asked Conrad. “Because I think the antichrist is getting ready to try and kill us all.”
“You’re talking about Huntsville?” asked Luke.
Conrad nodded. “We’re pretty sure Vincent Lacert, now evidently known as Reaper, is in charge there.”
Nathan frowned. “We suspected that. Not good news.”
“It gets worse,” said Conrad. “He’s building a missile.”
“A missile?” asked Luke. “Like a big one?”
“Big enough to hit the JP, I’d bet. Worse yet, they cleaned out Milan.” Conrad looked around at them. “Joshua said you told him there were tactical nukes in Milan.”
“They’re non-functional now,” Nathan said. “After what happened with David, it didn’t feel right to leave them sitting down there. I didn’t want to move them up here so I asked some of the professors from MSU to go down there and render them safe.”
Conrad seemed to deflate. “Thank God. I just kept thinking of Vincent Lacert with a nuclear-armed missile and what he could do with it.”
“He does still have a missile,” added Trailer. “It’s probably still big enough to pack some punch.”
“What do you think he plans to do with it?” asked Luke.
“Lacert?” asked Conrad. “If I know him at all, death and destruction for everyone else. He’ll likely hold a grudge for everything that’s happened to him since Missouri.”
“Which means he’ll be looking at us,” said Nathan.
“So what do you want to do?” asked Luke.
Everything depends on his intentions, thought Nathan. If Lacert is content with his own little kingdom, then things might be okay. Relations would never be good, but the JP might be able to peacefully co-exist with Huntsville.
Then again the man might have revenge in his heart. Or maybe he thought of himself as some sort of modern-day conqueror ready to lay claim to the land around him.
“We need to know what the man intends,” said Nathan. “Not conjecture. We need to know with certainty.”
“Don’t see any way to find that out unless you go down there and talk to the man,” said Luke.
Nathan sighed and looked around at them.
“Oh, hell,” said Conrad.
“Luke’s right. I need to see him with my own eyes. Get a feel for what he intends.” Nathan turned to Conrad. �
�You know the man...better than most from what I understand. Go set up a meeting for me.”
“Oh, hell,” said Conrad. “I was afraid you were going to say something like that.”
Chapter 15 – Offer of Empire
Nathan and Conrad walked through a small deserted park in Southern Tennessee. A cold spell had descended several days ago, and sharp wind and drizzle blew about their exposed faces. The park had been Conrad’s idea and arranged through several messengers sent back and forth. It was an open area where Nathan and Lacert could talk privately, but not a good location for an ambush, as each side would be able to watch closely from standoff distance.
“Don’t trust him,” said Conrad. “No matter what he says.”
Nathan looked at him quizzically. “Of course not. I barely trust you.”
“Thanks...I guess,” said Conrad. “Anyway, I only spoke to him through messengers, but if I know him at all, he has an ace up his sleeve.”
“What was that like? Talking with your old boss?”
Conrad shrugged. “It wasn’t like we were close even then. I did his dirty work to stay alive; that was all it was. I knew even before your son came along I needed to find a way out; he just helped provide it.”
Nathan tensed at the thought of Joshua’s burns and pushed the image away.
“There he is,” said Conrad, pointing unnecessarily to the tall blond man walking across the grass towards them.
There was something about the man that impressed Nathan immediately. Some inner vitality or sense of power. A man who couldn’t help but draw the attention of everyone when he walked into a room. He was not overly attractive, nor large, nor striking in any other way. He was simply…more.
“Let’s go,” said Nathan, walking forward with Conrad following closely behind. Lacert had stopped in the middle of the park and held his hands behind his back. He stared calmly at Nathan with those icy-blue eyes.
“Perhaps you should leave us, Conrad,” said Lacert when Nathan stopped a few paces away. “You were never really the discussion type, more of an action person.” Lacert turned back to Nathan. “Besides, men in our position should be able to speak freely with each other. Privacy makes that possible.”