“You’ve got my word.”
“Doesn’t mean much coming from a man holding a gun.”
“Well it’s the best you’re going to get.”
“What about my word? Would that mean something?” Ronan was still pointing the pistol at Dominic, but his eyes were on Higgins.
Higgins acknowledged Ronan with a yellow toothed smile. But he didn’t take his eyes off Dominic and the black abyss of the rifle barrel. “No offense, I appreciate you putting your neck out there for me and mine, but I don’t think you really stand a chance against this big bastard.”
“Smart man,” Dominic said.
“How about I show you? My family stays here. That way, there’s two of you and one of me. I do something you don’t like, feel free to bury me out there.”
Dominic lifted the rifle and propped it on his shoulder, stepping off Higgins and allowing him to stand. “That’ll work. Will that work for you, hero?”
Ronan was looking a little green around the gills. “I suppose it’ll do.”
The blood flow from the knife wound in Higgins’ shoulder had slowed to a trickle. “Tell me you got a needle and thread in that cart. I ain’t going nowhere opened up like this.”
“Yeah,” Ronan said, stepping around the woman still clutching her broken wrist.
Higgins pulled himself across a few feet of empty space, scooting up next to his wounded wife. “I’m going to need to tend to my lady. Did you really have to break her damn wrist?”
Dominic shook his head. “It’s not something I revel in, but it was the quickest way to neutralize the situation.”
“There was no need for hurting us. If you’d have told me you wanted those weapons, I’d have shown you the way. I’ve got no love for my cousin.”
“Perhaps if you and your boys hadn’t greeted us with guns, we might have had that conversation.” Dominic pulled the cigarette pack from his duster. “You folks smoke?”
The two boys raised their hands and Dominic distributed a cigarette to each of them.
Ronan was bent over Higgins, tearing the shirt from around the wound to get a better view of what he was working with.
“Why don’t you boys take me inside, get me some of that stew your momma put together.” Dominic dipped his head towards the door. His index finger remained near the trigger of his rifle, letting them know it wasn’t a request. “But before we eat, show me where daddy keeps the guns.”
18
Silas was sitting behind the table in his tent. His tent was the biggest one in the encampment; perks of being the king. He was forking mouthfuls of pork into his mouth, chewing eagerly, the juices flowing across his chin. It had been a month since he’d tasted meat. His boys had come by the pig during their trek into the unknown settlements. As their leader, he got first dibs.
Hawthorne was sitting across from him, shuffling the food around his plate, looking entirely disinterested in the feast.
Silas set his fork down and fixed Hawthorne with a stern glare. “Boy, if that look on your face is over that Union bitch, we’re gonna have a problem.”
“I just don’t know why you had to make me slice her up like that.”
“That shit is on you, not me. I warned you that if you kept on with her, there’d be blood. You should know me well enough to know I’m not fuckin’ around when I say something.”
“I guess I just…” Hawthorne shuddered and the words got caught up in his throat.
“Out with it, boy!”
“I just…I don’t get what purpose it served.”
Silas slapped the table, rattling the plates. “To make a man out of you, damn it! You know, the men, they’re starting to talk. Some of them don’t like how I take it so easy on you. They think I’m showing favoritism. And I am. Let me tell you something, if any of those sonsofbitches out there pulled the shit you’re pulling, I’d drown them in that goddamn ocean. So you should consider what I did to you a blessing. I can’t go on protecting you forever. Eventually, the men will turn. And I’m not about to lose control over them because you can’t fall in line. You get me? So consider this your final warning. You pull any more shit and I’m gonna let the men sort you out, and there’s no telling what they’ll do to you.”
Glaspell stormed into the tent, his bald head dripping sweat. “Silas, it’s happening!”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to be slightly more explicit, you bald bastard.”
Glaspell paused to catch his breath before trying again. “Our opportunity to destroy the Union. There’s a war going on in Genesis, the Union boys are fighting each other for some damned reason. Caravan boys told our scouts and the scouts have confirmed it. Word has spread. The army is gathering on the other side of the mountain. Men are coming from all over, from the known and unknown settlements alike. It’s happening.”
“It’s about time.” Silas didn’t care why they were fighting. They’d been given an opportunity for victory, an opportunity to end the centuries of oppression, and they were going to seize it. “Gather the men. Tell them to get ready to march.”
“Are you going to come, sir?”
Silas shook his head. “No. I don’t want to spread our command too thin. I’ll stay here with some of the men and protect the camp, just in case. You lead the army, be my voice, and bury those Union fucks.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I want to fight!” Hawthorne stood so quickly that his knees smacked against the bottom of the table.
Glaspell laughed and shook his head.
“Sit down, boy. Eat your food. You’re not going anywhere,” Silas said.
“Uncle, I’ve earned this, I have a right—”
“You ain’t got a right to shit. Listen to your Uncle,” Glaspell spat.
“Hey! I deserve some respect!” Hawthorne’s mannerisms didn’t match his tough talk; his voice was all squeaky and his finger shook as he pointed it at Glaspell. “My daddy was—”
“Your daddy is dead!”
Hawthorne swung on Glaspell. It was sudden and pathetic. Glaspell ducked back, grabbed Hawthorne by the hair, and bounced his face off the table. Hawthorne fell to the floor, groaning as he held his hands over his rapidly swelling cheek.
Glaspell stepped back, looking at Silas with his hands up. “He swung on me, you saw it.”
Silas stood and gave Glaspell a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “No worries. You did no wrong. Go and gather the men, I’ll clean this little pile of shit up.”
***
Lerah had no recollection of drifting to sleep. As she awoke, she let the light in little-by-little, the images around her slowly unfurling. She saw Glaspell, his bald head glimmering with sweat, running to each tent, beating a brass bell with a pipe.
“Awake and assemble, you grimy cocksuckers! Asses up and moving or Silas will have you flogged!”
There was a swarm of half-dressed men falling into messy formation at the edge of the water on the west side of the beach.
Hawthorne stumbled out of the madness.
“Hawthorne,” Lerah’s voice was a parched whisper.
Hawthorne ignored her as he continued moving past her and away from the madness. He was sniffling and mumbling to himself, arms wrapped across his belly.
“Hawthorne!” She flinched, the words felt like they had claws; she desperately needed some water.
“I can’t talk to you,” he blubbered.
“What are they doing?”
“I said I can’t—”
“No one is paying attention to us. Why are you crying?”
Hawthorne turned to face her, wiping away the tears. One side of his face was swollen and bruised.
“Jesus! Who did that to you?”
“You think that’s why I’m crying, don’t you? You think I’m weak, that I can’t take a beating.”
“I don’t think anything of the sort. I don’t know you that well. But from what I’ve seen, you’re plenty strong; you’ve got to be to make it out here. I’m just concerned, that’s all. It lo
oks like someone did a number on you.”
He wiped a string of snot from his nose. “I’m tough enough. My daddy could fight and so can I. It’s in my blood.”
“Is that what they’re getting riled up for, a fight?”
He shook his head. His lips remained sealed.
Lerah gave up trying to pry any useful information from the broken and dejected Hawthorne and instead focused solely on the cluster of men standing down the beach. They had begun to look somewhat formidable. They were dressed and had managed to form, mostly, straight lines. Three men had gathered behind Glaspell, carrying stacks of rifles. He was taking three at a time and dispersing them to the group and shouting, “Pass it to the man at your back! Check the mags! You’re only going to get one! Keep passing! Let’s go! We ain’t got all morning!”
“They’re attacking Genesis.”
“What?” She made a mindless attempt to stand. The restraints tightened and slammed her back against the pole, sending lightning bolts of pain down her back.
“Yeah,” Hawthorne said, digging his toes into the sand, “Rebels are forming beyond the mountains and we’re going to join them. It’s the battle we’ve been waiting for, the big one, and they won’t even let me march.”
Lerah was no longer concerned about Hawthorne or his face. She was concerned about her home, her people, her father. “Why? Why are they attacking now? It’s suicide. Right? They couldn’t even defeat us on open ground. Now they think they can take us where we sleep?” She was mostly talking to herself, but just loud enough for Hawthorne to join in on the conversation.
“Genesis is weak. There is a war going on inside its own walls; Union against Union. They’ve kicked out the caravans. It’s a battlefield now.” Hawthorne sounded as if he were reciting someone else’s words.
“What war? What are you talking about?”
Hawthorne just shrugged as his toes continued to cut through the sand.
Lerah jerked at her restraints. “Damn you! Tell me something! Anything! Is my father okay?” She thought of Dominic but didn’t dare speak his name. She was comforted by the idea of him being there. He could protect himself. He could protect Genesis. She just hoped that her father would have the good sense to utilize his skills.
“That’s all I know.”
Lerah didn’t get a chance to ask anything else.
“Hawthorne, get your ass away from that prisoner!” Glaspell had two rifles tucked beneath his arms.
Hawthorne’s toes left the sand and he turned, dutifully slinking towards his master.
Lerah watched as Glaspell grabbed Hawthorne by his ear and yanked him towards the tents. Any other time and her heart would have ached for him. But her heart was full: full of images of Genesis burning against the night sky, the flames filled with the screams of those she loved, and the knowledge that she was helpless to save them.
The tears flowed freely.
19
Hause had been trying to keep himself busy. He’d read last month’s financials for the second time and was now going line-by-line over the food store reports—tomatoes were in short supply, rations would have to be tightened.
He’d heard gunfire downstairs.
Not a good sign.
Using Amanda and the memory of her fallen husband to rip the rug of support from beneath Dan’s feet had seemed like a brilliant plan. After all, there was no power greater than the power of public opinion; dynasties had risen and fallen in its wake since the beginning of time. But even with that confidence, Hause was still left to wonder whether her word carried enough power to quell the zealous spirit of Dan’s rebellion. Just as the sweat from his palms was beginning to soak through the first page of the food store report, Pinkerton burst into his office; he was all smiles. Hause let the paper float to the desktop and waited for the grinning idiot to suck the tension from the room.
“It worked!”
“What do you mean it worked?”
“The offer you sent Amanda to make, it worked. They surrendered.”
“Wait, Dan surrendered?” He’d never expected it to have that sort of impact. Dan wasn’t the type to just throw up the white flag. He had to know that there was no coming back from this. If anything, he had to know that Hause would have to make an example of him.
“Oh, no, Dan didn’t surrender.”
Hause was relieved. A trial and execution would be messy business and a PR nightmare. Most of Genesis had grown up knowing and loving Dan. It’d be better if he died in battle and if the details surrounding his demise were left as vague as possible; a quick and clean end to the conflict. “Where is he now?”
“He ran. Our men exchanged gunfire with him. As far as we know, he’s in the Tower One lobby.
“Caldwell and Reyes?”
“Reyes is dead. Caldwell’s status is unknown.”
“It doesn’t matter. At most, we’re facing two guns. This is good. We’ve got Dan backed into a corner.”
“There’s something else.”
“You about to piss on my parade?”
“No,” Pinkerton cleared his throat. “Well, I don’t think so.”
“Out with it.” Hause braced himself, preparing for the worst.
“The Saboteur is gone.”
“What do you mean he’s gone?”
“He’s gone. He took a horse and left. He used Dan as a hostage to get past all the guns.”
“How did he get out of his cell?”
“Buddy said he thinks Dan let him out. That he planned the whole thing. Said Dan took the keys from him and was down there alone right before it happened.”
“When did you talk to Buddy?”
“I didn’t. A couple of our scouts got hold of him when we were passing around your conditions of surrender. Buddy told the story to them.”
“Was anyone else with Buddy?”
“The monster and that caravan bartender.”
“Ichako.”
“Yeah, him.”
“Heard anything back from them?”
“Scouts heard some gunfire, but they’ve gotten no word back as of yet.”
“That means they’re dead.”
“You think he killed Loviatar?”
“If anyone could do it, it’d be Dan.” The pieces were all starting to come together. It hadn’t been about policy disagreement or power. Dan didn’t want the throne. He wanted his daughter, and the Saboteur was the only person that could and would be willing to give that to him. For Dan, the rebellion had been the perfect ruse. Hause had severely underestimated the power of family; perhaps because he didn’t have one of his own. It had driven Dan mad, turned him into a traitor. “Keep the escape of the Saboteur to yourself. News like that would only trigger further unrest. If it comes up, we tell the people that our Shadeux hunted him down and killed him.”
“Understood. What about Dan? Want me to send a team down to finish him off?”
Hause shook his head. “No. We’ve got him cornered. That’s good enough for now.”
“But, sir—”
“What did I just say?”
“Yes, sir.”
Hause would have relished the opportunity to go down and finish Dan off himself, but he was keenly aware of the live nuclear weapon hibernating beneath the dungeon. Hause put his arm around Pinkerton’s shoulders and started walking him towards the door. “Have the men lock down the exits and the stairwells. Get the wounded over to medical and make sure they’re taken care of. The men that fought with Dan are to be reunited with their families, immediately. We need to make sure that morale is up, we’re not out of the woods yet.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hause opened the door and the two guards standing outside came to attention. “You’ve done well.”
“Thank you, sir. It’s been an honor to serve the Union, as always.” Pinkerton gave Hause a parting salute and began moving towards the stairwell, back rigid.
“One more thing, soldier.”
Pinkerton stopped and turned. “Sir?”
“Congratulations on your new title, Defense Minister.”
20
“Why haven’t they come for us?” Caldwell asked, each word presenting a new battle.
Dan shook his head. “Hause knows I’m sitting on top of the nuke and that I’m desperate. He can’t be sure of how far I’m willing to go.”
They were sitting against the wall at the back of the lobby, their rifles on their laps. Caldwell watched the stairwell entrance on the other side of the room, while Dan kept watch over the main entrance.
“How far are you willing to go?”
Dan stood, using the butt of the rifle to push himself up. “As far as I have to. You hungry?”
“You know what happens if you set that bomb off, right?”
There was a small snack bar with food and water on the far side of the room, opposite the stairwell. It was for the soldiers tasked with tending the horses. Dan was digging behind the bar, coming up with bags of fried potato skins and dried fruit. “Yes. I know exactly what happens.”
“And that’s it? You’d kill everyone? Our friends and family? The folks we came up with? There are good people up there, people that are just stuck in the middle. Why should they die for our bullshit?” Caldwell lacked the strength to animate such strong words, they crumbled rather than popped.
“We’re all a part of this whether we like it or not.” Dan opened up a bag of potato skins and began crunching. “Sometimes I think it’d be better if we just leveled it all and started over.”
“I’m the one that should be talking like a madman. I’m the one sitting here at death’s door.”
Dan shook his head and tore open the bag of fruit. “That’s all it is, I’m just talking. I’m just blowing off some steam. They come through that door and I’m going to go down shooting. You sure you don’t want something to eat?” he asked, extending the bag and shaking the contents.
Caldwell coughed and blood speckled his chin. “I don’t have much of an appetite at the moment.”
“Jesus. You’ve got to eat something, you look like shit.”
“What a relief, cause I feel like shit. You know, maybe you should grab one of those horses and make a run for it while you can. Doubt any of them boys upstairs can hit a moving target.”
The Glass Mountains: The Saboteur Chronicles Book 2 Page 15