She glanced at Logan pedaling next to her on their way to the hospital. Her plate was full with her responsibilities on the medical and greenhouse crews. (Her brother had made it clear there would be no getting out of manual labor...they would set a good example for everyone.) But she must find time somewhere to conduct her study, and per Steven’s directive, it must be done in secret.
Chapter 7
Oklahoma
“General, I think the natives are getting restless,” the man said with a nervous smile. He hazarded a glance to gauge the reaction to his words; one never knew when a jest would be appreciated, or punished as insubordination. It was a knife’s edge he danced on, being second in command. Nobody knew that better than he.
“How so, Lieutenant?” The honeyed voice was mellow today. Of course that could change as quickly as an axe falling upon a chopping block.
“The rations are getting smaller, and there is some grumbling about footwear.”
The laughter, when it came, sounded like distant thunder during a warm summer rain. Martin knew better than to be lulled by it. It might be genuine amusement or the harbinger of a deadly storm.
“Do you know how the Roman legions moved about? Not the cavalry, of course, but the vast majority of the soldiers? On foot. They could march thirty-five miles in a day, and they didn’t have access to Nike and L. L. Bean.”
Isaiah spoke from the saddle of his Friesian. Martin rode a gelding of no impressive breeding, from what he could tell, but then he was no horseman – he was a goddamned software salesman when the world had ended. He preferred walking to the torture of putting his sore ass on that horse day after day. He kept thinking it would get less painful, but so far it hadn’t. He suspected the animals were important to Isaiah more for the image they projected rather than for ease of travel. He had to admit, the General was magnificent on that giant black stallion, with his ebony skin glistening in the chilly sunlight and the movie star smile that somehow managed to both attract and repel. Horse and rider looked like a living statue carved from obsidian.
“Yes, sir. Those Romans were tough guys, I’m sure. The question I’m hearing the most is why we can’t utilize automobiles. Some of them still work and we would make better time.”
The brilliant smile widened. Martin held his breath.
“Because what they’re accomplishing by walking is much more than just covering ground. They’re becoming stronger, stauncher, sterner stuff. I’m forming them, fashioning them into hardened warriors, and the first step in that process is fortitude.”
He found the general’s wordplay exhausting. Why the man spoke in such a way, always using words that began with the same letter, had never been explained and he would never ask the why of it – he preferred to live. Besides, after being in Isaiah’s army for several months now, long before leaving Texas, he had gained some insight into the nature of the man and come up with two probable explanations: First, it was an intellectual exercise – Isaiah was always working on his strength, both physical and mental. Secondly, it was a flamboyant affectation that made him more interesting. The man was consumed with his appearance. Martin thought often of a scene from an old horror movie where the bad guy, a clinical psychiatrist, gazed at a picture frame on his desk during sessions with patients. At the end of the film, the picture frame was revealed to be a mirror.
He knew a classic narcissist when he saw one.
“That makes perfect sense, sir.”
“Of course, it does!” The smile expanded.
Here it comes. An oily, queasy feeling uncoiled in the pit of his stomach.
“Now, who were the grumbling ones?”
“Sir, it was just an undercurrent kind of thing. I don’t know that I remember specifically who said what. I just thought you should be aware of it.”
Isaiah reined in the Friesian and turned to face him. The Cheshire smile threatened to expand beyond the perimeter of the dark face.
“Think carefully, Martin,” he said in a soft voice. “Mindful, meticulous, methodical. I shall ask again: Who were the grumbling ones?”
The lieutenant blinked once, swallowed the bile that had begun to rise in his throat, and said, “Javier and Brian, sir.”
“Ah, of course. They’re weak links. I knew it the moment I saw them. Bring them to me.”
Martin would deal later with the guilt of throwing the two young men under the bus. Javier and Brian had said no such thing, but their names were the first that came to mind. He might have been just a mediocre salesman in his previous life, but he had always been a survivor when it came to corporate politics. This was essentially the same type of situation he had dealt with in his career, but with much higher stakes.
People were going to die today. Better them than him.
Chapter 8
Liberty, Kansas
Dani wished for the hundredth time that the quirky little man with hair like flames was still around. She missed the crude jokes and affectionate name-calling, but at that moment she needed his level-headed advice. She was in a dangerous situation and she knew it. If she lived through the next few minutes, she would get herself one of those What Would Jesus Do? bracelets, scratch out the Jesus and change it to Fergus. She had never had any use for religion or religious icons, but her friend had been a goddamn magician when it came to getting out of tight spots...literally. He could be counted on to pull any number of helpful objects out of that army-green coat he always wore: tampons for plugging bullet holes, night vision goggles, WWII era hand grenades. She had half expected him to pull a live rabbit out of it on a few occasions. The thought made her throat constrict, more than it already was by the strong hand that encircled it.
“You want to stop squirming. Don’t get me wrong...I like a bit of a fight when I have my way with a sweet young thing like yourself, but information is what I need now. And once I’ve got all I can get from you, I’ll take my time with that delicious slit between those long legs.”
The man smelled of gasoline and body odor, and the whisky on his breath practically singed her eyebrows.
She had been out after dark checking on a glitchy camera at the eastern edge of town and had stupidly left her backside exposed when she reached toward the device which had been discreetly bolted to a corner of the Welcome to Liberty, Pop. 4475 sign.
Also, stupidly, she hadn’t bothered to tell anyone where she was going. Sam had been busy conducting his first self-defense class and turnout had been considerable, not only due to the townsfolks’ desire to learn hand-to-hand combat, but also because of the eye candy Sam provided. Half the women in town were in love with him, and who could blame them?
“What are you smiling about, girly? You think I’m joking? Trust me. I’ll ruin you for any other man. But first, tell me all about Liberty, Kansas, population 4475. Where is the food? What are the defenses?”
He was a hulking beast...probably six five standing, but at the moment his enormous bulk lay stretched out on top of her, pinning her to the ground. His goliathan hand gripped her throat like a vice. He might just be the strongest man she had ever encountered.
“Please, I can barely breathe. I promise, I’ll tell you everything. Just let me sit up.” She used the best ‘weak female’ voice she could muster and was satisfied with her degree of authenticity. Between the glowing three-quarter moon and the chilly, impersonal starlight, she could see the skepticism on the man’s face. The cold asphalt seeped through the back of her jacket; she shuddered from the temperature as well as the first stirrings of genuine fear.
“Don’t give me that bullshit. You’re dressed like a warrior. I know bad acting when I see it. Start talking or I’ll slice open your lovely swan neck by the light of this exquisite moon.”
Dani was surprised by the words as well as the astuteness. Great. He wasn’t one of the mouth-breathing window lickers.
“Okay, okay. There’s a substantial cache of food at the library near the center of town. We’re running a co-op of sorts. People keep what they need
to last them a couple of weeks, but the remainder goes into the general provisions bank.”
The man nodded. “Good. What about guns? Ammo?”
“Please, can’t I just sit up?” She didn’t bother with the helpless female shtick. “You’ve got me. I’m not going anywhere, and there’s a rock in the middle of my back. I can’t even think straight.”
The man, who might have been a poster boy for creatine supplements and protein powders in his previous life, pondered her request.
“If you try to escape, I will catch you and I will hurt you. And when I say ‘hurt,’ I mean a ridiculously lengthy process that involves medieval torture techniques which have become fashionable again.”
Dani’s eyes widened as she thought of the Pear of Anguish she had mentioned to Isaiah recently. This dude was not to be trifled with. Intelligence gleamed in the bloodshot eyes, and that made him more dangerous than all the bulging biceps in a dozen Gold’s Gyms.
“Agreed.”
Her mind raced as the man released his grip and allowed her to sit up. He squatted a foot away on thighs the circumference of medium-sized oaks, watching her with what she just realized was amusement.
This motherfucker thinks I’m a joke?
The same cold, calculating fury she had harnessed in her confrontation with Isaiah made its way into her consciousness, a red-tinged miasma of single-minded focus and lethal determination.
She slowed her breathing as she positioned herself in front of the man and constructed a mental checklist of assets and liabilities, strengths and weaknesses. She formulated a few potentially successful maneuvers and discarded others that were inherently doomed to fail. Like murky water seeping through a sand filter, pristine drops of a plan coalesced in her mind.
She moved into a squatting position similar to that of Paul Bunyan in front of her. She spread her lips in a feral smile, anticipating her next move.
Suddenly, before she had even tensed her muscles in anticipation of the leap that would follow, the left side of the human megalith’s head exploded in a fountain of blood, skull fragments, hair, and gray matter. The lifeless body of the man followed its viscera onto the pavement.
Dani hit the ground, her heart pounding. Was she next?
“It’s okay! It’s just me, Creeper!” The voice that called out from the dark sounded a good fifty yards away. When he trotted up to her moments later, she saw he carried an automatic pistol in his right hand; a revolver was wedged into a holster on his hip, and the tip of a tactical rifle poked out from behind his back.
Her mouth dropped open. “You made that shot with a fucking handgun?”
The grin disappeared and a frown took its place on the handsome, boyish face. “Was that wrong? Did I do bad?”
She barked a laugh, grabbing the strange young man in a fierce embrace as he stood with awkward arms pinned to his sides.
###
Sometimes things don’t go as planned, but then actually turn out better. Logan loved the praise he got for saving Dani’s life. They couldn’t believe he’d made such a great shot without even using his Sig Sauer rifle with the Konus scope. He thought that was funny because he’d made more difficult shots before with the Ruger 9mm. He suspected before that it might be a magical weapon, and now he was sure of it.
He’d followed Dani earlier that evening when she left Steven’s house. She had been looking at the monitors even though it was his turn to keep-an-eye-on-them. He was supposed to use the walkie-talkie if anyone other than people he knew appeared on one of the five screens. It was an important job, but it was kind of boring. It was late and everyone was probably asleep in their homes, so there wasn’t anything interesting to watch. And there were never any cartoons on any of the TVs.
She had been standing behind him grumbling about one of the camera feeds. When she left, Logan was curious to know where she was going and also, the Bad Thoughts told him he might have an opportunity to kill her. Even though Julia tried to convince him that his new nickname was just for fun, he thought that when Dani said it, she sounded a lot like the kids at school when they had surrounded him on the playground. Those were mean kids for sure, and she was just a grown-up version of them.
Everyone thought he’d seen the big man hurting her on one of the TVs and then rushed to help her, but he was already nearby, using his invisibility magic so she wouldn’t see him. He thought he might shoot her when she reached up for the camera, but then the big man came out of nowhere (he definitely had magic too), knocked her to the ground, then got on top her. He couldn’t hear what they said, but the big man got off and she sat up. Dani’s white face had been turned toward the moon and had been easy to see because of his x-ray vision. He wasn’t sure what an x-ray was, but he knew he could see really well in the dark and for long distances compared to the other members of the security crew. Superman had it, so Logan thought that was what he had too.
When the Bad Thoughts said he should SQUEEZE THE TRIGGER! of the Ruger that was aimed at the white face, he hesitated. He didn’t always have to do what they said, after all. Sometimes they had good ideas and sometimes they could be bossy, which he didn’t like. He decided to take-a-minute-and-think-things-through, just like his mom had always told him. He struggled with something that would be impossible to explain even to Julia, since it wasn’t something you could see, smell, taste, or hear. He called them daydreams and this one showed him how much everyone would like him if he killed the big man instead of Dani. They might call him a hero, because it seemed likely the big man was going to hurt her bad.
That’s when he shifted the barrel a half inch to the left and shot the big man right in the head.
When Dani hugged him, it made him feel strange. He couldn’t see colors very well in the dark, but he could kind of feel her colors when she had her arms around him, and they were exactly the same as Julia’s.
The thought made him frown.
Chapter 9
“That’s not an explanation, Amelia. Do you know how worried we were? Maddie was beside herself.”
Pablo was exasperated. He couldn’t decide whether to be elated by Amelia’s sudden return or furious that the reason for her disappearance was so thin. A walkabout? Really? Isn’t that something Australians do, not tiny Native American women with bad knees?
She was stubborn as hell too. She wouldn’t even tell them where her supposed walkabout had taken her or what she had done or seen during her absence.
“I’ve missed you too, Pablo.” The warm smile was reflected in the weary brown eyes. “But perhaps we should set some boundaries. I’m old enough to be your mother, and I don’t think I should have to account to you or anyone else for my whereabouts.”
He huffed in frustration. “So that’s how it’s going to be? You just come and go as you please? And what about Curly Sue? She whined for three days after you left.” He realized the moment he spoke the words how ridiculous he sounded. He wasn’t addressing a rebellious teenager; he was talking to a woman he trusted and appreciated for her insightfulness, wisdom, and wicked sense of humor.
And she had saved Maddie, a debt he could never repay. The least he could do was welcome her home without an interrogation.
“You’re right. Of course, you’re right. We were just all so worried. Jessie most of all, I think.”
The little girl’s eyes were like saucers as she followed the discourse between the grownups. She sat so closely to the small woman on the sofa that she might as well have been on her lap, and she clutched her growing kitten as if she feared it might also embark on a walkabout.
He felt Maddie’s hand on his shoulder.
“That’s enough of that,” she said with a kiss to the top of his head. “Welcome home, Amelia. We couldn’t be happier that you’re back. We have some catching up to do, but we can get into all that tomorrow.” Maddie gave the woman a wink. “Everyone to bed. It’s late and I’m tired. Jessie and I covered a lot of ground today.”
The bandage was gone and the red gold hair had
been trimmed by one of the girls in town who was trading haircutting services for whatever she could get in return...extra food rations, clothes, soap, water. Maddie had traded a can of Amelia’s Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup in exchange for the haircut that made her feel more like her old self and less like the fragile invalid Pablo believed her to be.
The barter system was alive and thriving in Liberty. The daily forages by the HG crew had been particularly fruitful recently, and the stockpile of goods at the library was expanding rather than dwindling for the first time since Steven had donated half of his personal cache. Liberty’s former librarian had assumed management of the town commissary, and performed the task with the same keen mind and no-nonsense demeanor as when she was dealing in books instead of food and the other necessities of life. In another person’s less competent hands, it might have been a position that sparked resentment and anger. People were no longer starving, but they certainly didn’t have everything they wanted. Marilyn had developed an efficient and fair system for determining everyone’s bi-weekly allotments, and the criteria she used to tally all the incoming and outgoing items made Pablo’s head spin.
He decided he liked her, once he had gotten past that stern expression. She had a turn of phrase as elegant as her physical appearance was not, and she loved poetry as much as he did. When he dropped supplies off at the library after the HG crew’s excursions, she sometimes had a book of poetry for him, selected from her favorites. Mary Oliver’s Long Life: Essays and Other Writings had been the first. It was one Pablo hadn’t read for quite some time and experiencing it again had felt like sharing an intimate evening with an old friend. How serendipitous that she had chosen one of his favorite poets.
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