Rise of the Huskers (The Raven Falconer Chronicles)

by Larsen, Dennis

  “Gotcha,” the behemoth acknowledged.

  Louis gently closed the door and informed the three GAW leaders to have a seat. The men quickly did as they were asked, without question. Stories of the security guard’s strength had preceded him for years, and the much smaller men knew never to challenge him, even concerning insignificant details. Lou stood over them, his hands held before him, fingers interlaced and thumbs rotating around one another.

  Trevor Arcand smiled and tried to converse with the all-too-serious gargantuan. “You like working with Darwin? You guys have been friends for a long time.”

  “You mean Chief Gladue,” he said, correcting the informal nature of the slender man.

  “Yeah, I guess,” Trevor replied, looking at the men seated on either side of him, shrugging his shoulders.

  “Yes, the chief and I go back a ways. What’s it to you?”

  “Nothing, just trying to make small talk. Listen man, we’re all friends here. I think we’re on the same page, right?” Arcand intimated, sliding his darkened sunglasses from his nose and resting them on his head.

  “Listen MAN,” Lou replied, his tone thick with sarcasm. “I may have to work with you because the chief wants me to but I don’t have to like you, or your buddies,” he said, sweeping his hands wide, narrowly missing slapping the two men on either side of the skinny GAW leader.

  “Whoa, where did that come from?” Trevor asked.

  “I’m watching you Trevor, you and all your minions. You make one move I don’t like and I’ll deal with you, with or without Darwin’s permission. I hope I’ve made myself clear. Now get your asses out of those chairs . . . the chief will see you now.”

  Louis opened the heavy door and ushered the trio inside. Chief Gladue had assumed a more business like position behind the expansive table: his head down appearing to scrutinize a single sheet of paper in front of him. “Thanks, Lou,” he said, without lifting his eyes from the page. “Have a seat, boys. I’ll be with you in a second.”

  The three young men quietly walked to the end of the long slab of finely crafted wood and sat, Trevor taking the seat closest to the chief. “What’s his problem today?” the GAW leader asked, after he heard the glass door seal the room shut. Darwin glanced up for a moment but did not reply, opting to continue his perusal of the paper’s content. Again, Trevor looked at his friends, lifted his shoulders and one brow.

  Gladue finally pushed himself back a couple of inches and looked at the man directly. He made it a point to initiate eye contact with each, sizing them up by peering into their soul, or at least, making them believe that he had. Suddenly he smiled, easing the tension in the room. “Thanks for coming. You had an issue with Lou this morning?”

  “Don’t think he likes us very much,” Trevor answered.

  The reply brought a boisterous laugh from Darwin, who slapped a big hand down on the table, startling his visitors. “Hell, boys, he doesn’t like anybody . . . don’t take it too personal, but if I were you, I’d steer clear of pissing him off.”

  “Sounds like good advice,” one of the followers agreed.

  “It is,” Gladue confirmed, in a more serious tone. “Okay, let’s get to the reason for the meeting. I’ve been going over our numbers this morning and can’t say that I’m all that pleased,” he said, leaning in towards Trevor, his forearms and elbows resting firmly on the table’s surface.

  “How do you mean?” Trevor asked.

  Chief Gladue lifted the paper from the table and read, “318 rescued survivors, 81 men over 18, 35 children and the rest women.” He paused, bringing his gaze back to the young men. “Not much of an army.”

  “Yeah, but . . . ”

  Darwin stopped him with a quick flick of his wrist, bringing his palm up and flush in front of Trevor’s face. “I understand of the 81 men, there are a number who wish to be left out of a fight, any fight, for that matter. Is that true?”

  “I don’t know the exact number but there are some,” the GAW leader confirmed.

  “Who?”

  “You mean their names?” he asked.

  Gladue moved in even closer, causing Trevor to lean in his seat. “Exactly. Who are they and what are their names. I want you to write everyone of them down,” he said, sliding the single sheet of paper to the three and flipping it over on the blank side.

  “Now?” Arcand asked, looking at his friends for help.

  “Sure, why not?” the chief replied, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head. The motion made the small dreamcatcher, hanging from his ear, pivot and swirl before coming to rest at the side of his neck.

  “I don’t think . . . do you guys know? I mean, how are we supposed to know all of them?”

  Chief Darwin Gladue suddenly lunged forward, slamming his fist down on the table, very near the blank-sided sheet of paper. “Because it’s your job to know! What about that do you not understand?” The intense glare coming from their leader was unmistakable and direct. “How many areas are there still to search for survivors?” he asked, retreating slightly and calming his voice.

  “Uh, none, or none that we can think of. There are still a few hundred people unaccounted for but we believe they must have gotten trapped in Calgary or someplace else when the virus hit. John’s gone over the master list of tribal members and he’s pretty sure we’ve located everybody that can be found on the reserve.” Trevor looked down the table at his friend who was nodding his head. “That’s correct, right John?” The fellow slowly agreed, avoiding eye contact with Gladue.

  “Good work.” The chief again lightened the mood with an almost imperceptible wry smile. “I’ve been thinking about where we go from here but I wanted your confirmation on a few things first.” Trevor signaled with a tip of his head as if he understood where the conversation was going. “Perfect, so let’s see where we stand.” Before he continued, Darwin sat back and appraised his guest’s demeanor, again smiling. “Hell boys, you all look like you’re about to fill your shorts . . . relax. I’ve not asked Lou to kick your asses . . . ah . . . yet.” He laughed; enjoying the bit of torture he was putting the men through. Standing, he walked around behind them and patted each on the shoulder. “Just want you boys to be on the same page as me. You good with that?”

  “Oh yeah,” they each confirmed, in their own variation of the agreement.

  “K, so are our borders secure?” he asked, still pacing the floor.

  “We’ve got every main road blocked with armed men. Nobody can get in or out without your permission,” Trevor gladly offered.

  “Good, very good. Secondary roads?”

  “There are only a few that are even drivable right now and we don’t have permanent positions set up but I’ve got a roving unit checking on them every few hours. They make a wide circle and they’re on it 24/7,” the GAW leader confirmed.

  “Our supplies? How much longer can we hold out before we have to secure more?”

  “John, you take that one,” Trevor ordered, happy to be out of the spotlight for a minute or two.

  “Well, I . . . I wish I could be sure but it doesn’t look like we’ve got as much stuff as we thought we had.”

  “What?” Darwin’s voice growled, highlighting his displeasure with the response. “What are you implying? Have we got some thieves among us?”

  “No, well at least I don’t think so,” John continued.

  “You sure as hell better find out and let me make myself perfectly clear. Do I have your attention?” Gladue hustled to the opposite side of the table, leaned his tall, muscular frame over, and rested his hands flat on the wood surface. He waited for each of the guests to appreciate his position and agree with his question. “I will not . . . I cannot abide dishonesty . . . of any type. Thieves will be executed . . . end of story. I think I’ve made that clear to you . . . and, in fact, I’ll make it clear to everybody.” The big man slowly wound his way around the table, thinking as he went. “Okay, so how long? At the rate we’re burning through the supplies, how long
before we’re in trouble?”

  John looked to the table, hoping the answer would suddenly appear there. “My best guess would be three days on the inside and a week on the outside. I don’t think people are stealing I’m pretty sure it’s just more survivors than we anticipated.”

  “Okay, okay . . . good to know. We need a tribal meeting . . . tonight. Trevor, you’ve got a couple of hours. I want those names. You talk to every man and I mean every man 18 to . . . let’s say . . . 70. Those unwilling to fight for our cause, you bring here in two hours. I want to meet with them and explain our situation. I think Lou and I can be a bit more convincing than GAW,” Darwin said, again smiling to himself. “Tonight, six o’clock I meet with everybody in the lounge. Make sure there’s room for everyone and John, tell the women to cut back on the meals. We don’t need to stay fat, just alive.”

  “Yes sir,” John blurted out, his enthusiasm not lost on Chief Gladue.

  “I’ll see to that list and have them here in a couple of hours. Anything else?” Trevor asked, praying there would be no further instructions.

  “Not for you,” Darwin said, moving his dark eyes away from the GAW leader and letting them rest on the third of the party, who had been uneasily quiet throughout the meeting. “Ponyrider, you’ve been awfully quiet. What’s on your mind?”

  “Nothing really, just taking it all in and trying to make sense of it,” the good looking 24-year-old replied.

  “How so? You don’t like the way things are going? Perhaps you’re unhappy with the new leadership?” Gladue asked, returning to his seat. Away from the group’s view, he slowly slid a drawer open revealing the 9mm automatic he’d used a few days before to secure his position as tribal leader. His hand casually found the grip and he returned his attention to Ponyrider.

  “No, that’s not it. That’s not it at all. Can I be honest?”

  “I’d expect nothing less,” Darwin confirmed.

  “It was hard for me to be a part of the killing . . . you know . . . the people that were sick.” He paused and looked to his hands, formulating what he might say to express himself without drawing the chief’s ire.

  “Go on,” Gladue encouraged, his finger gently stroking the pistol’s trigger.

  “I still think, I mean, I know it was the right thing to do but are we going to start attacking people who are healthy and just trying to survive? There have got to be a lot of folks just like us that are trying to get through this.”

  “There are, I’m sure, but in the bigger picture this is our time. I thought we were clear on this point. My vision . . . our vision for our future is much more than survival. It’s about what is rightfully ours.”

  “I get that and I’m proud to be a part of it, but how do we achieve our goals without a slaughter? I can’t help but think we’re going to bring the full weight of the Canadian military down on our heads.”

  “You make good points. Let’s look at them. First, we’re not going to wholesale ‘slaughter’, I think was the word you used, anyone. We’ll invite, albeit a forceful invitation, those living within our God-given tribal land boundaries to leave. I, and no one else, certainly not the Canadian government, will dictate the definition of said boundaries. Those refusing will be dealt with. Their infected will be treated as our own; they will be spared the life of a cannibal and relieved of their pain. Are you all in agreement thus far?”

  The three young men concurred with a simple nod. However, Ponyrider could not hold back, offering a quick, “But . . . ”

  Chief Gladue abruptly cut his remark short. “But? There are no but’s, as well as no if’s, and’s and maybe’s. The way forward is clear to me, and it better be to you. The grand vision, which has set us on this course, was distinct and unequivocal. Our time has come and it is up to us to seize the day. Ponyrider, will you bear arms and fight with us or do I leave you behind to wash pots and pans with the women?”

  The direct embarrassment did not go unnoticed by any in the room. “My people have and will always come first. I thought you understood that? I’m just trying to foresee anything that may go wrong and address it before we find ourselves in serious trouble,” the somewhat cornered young man decreed.

  “Your assertion is bold and accepted,” Darwin said, taking his hand from the pistol and closing the drawer. “As for the military, it remains to be seen if one still exists. My bet is they are overwhelmed with survivors and Huskers in the big cities. They, for a while, will simply leave us alone and by the time they look to us, it will be too late. Tribes and sects will soon come together under the leadership of one inspired man, a man with vision, a man with the blessing of the Great Fathers. We will succeed because it has been foretold and foreordained.” He stood again, pausing to feel the rush of excitement the words brought to his soul. “Before I let you leave . . . final question. How is our weapon’s supply? Do we have enough to successfully arm 100 warriors?”

  The three young men seated at the table suddenly burst into spontaneous laughter, the joke somewhat lost on the leader. “Guns? Hell Chief, we’ve got enough guns to arm every man, woman and child and then some. That’s the one thing we’re not lacking.”

  “Excellent. After tonight and before 48 hours are up, I expect all men and women, who are willing and able, to be familiarized and equipped with a weapon. Trevor, you make the assignments and see that it gets done. Tonight our future will be laid clear for all to behold. It will not be easy, it will not be without bloodshed but it will be the price we pay to restore our lands, our integrity and our way of life. Now go, make me proud and bring me the dissenters before we meet tonight.”

  “We’re on it, Chief,” Arcand confirmed, quickly sliding from his chair and ushering the others to follow him from the room.

  * * *

  Two hours later five men stood at the end of the same long, polished table. They were humbled to have been called before the tribal chief, at least, all but one. Jeremy Letend’s smug face stood out from the rest like a red zit on the end of a bulbous nose. Darwin could not help but notice the defiant glare and the man’s clenched fists.

  “Brothers, welcome. I appreciate you coming forward with your concerns and I am happy to address them.”

  “I’ll bet,” Jeremy uttered in a quiet whisper. Letend, a classmate of Darwin’s, understood more than Gladue gave him credit. His life had not been easy, a battle with substance abuse had led him down a trail of heartache and despair. His life’s actions had culminated with the death of his wife in a tragic car accident and the loss of his only child to the pandemic’s curse. Above it all, his faith had saved him and restored him to a man of courage and principle.

  “Jeremy, you seem . . . ah, concerned,” Darwin said, rising from where he sat at the end of the conference table and making his way towards the group.

  The man with a scarred face and soul did not readily reply. He understood Darwin’s lifelong yearning for power and the mistake it would be to call him out in front of the others. However, he’d always had trouble binding his tongue, even when he was sober. “Let’s just say, I was concerned with the sudden departure of Alec and Chief Yellowbird. Did no one else find it strange that they would leave without so much as a goodbye?” Letend asked, looking to the others for support. None was offered.

  “I thought I made it clear. They were unexpectedly called away to meet with other tribal leaders to the north. What about that is difficult for you?” He paused but did not wait for a verbal reply. “In their absence they have anointed me chief and although I need not explain my actions to you or any member of the tribe, out of courtesy, I have explained. I will tell you this; in a vision their path was revealed and they are no longer with us but have joined their Spirit Fathers. I cannot comment more on their demise but it is clear.”

  “You cannot or you will not?” Jeremy sarcastically inquired.

  “Where is this bitterness coming from, Jeremy?” Darwin asked. “This is not a position or title I have aspired to but rather one that has been thrust upo
n me. As a medicine man I’m blessed . . . and burdened with prophetic insight for our entire group. Tonight I will explain further before the tribe but I’ve seen our way forward and suffice it to say that I am the key.”

  “Don’t you think that comes across a little . . . shall we say, arrogant?” the former addict suggested.

  “Jeremy, is this about my position as chief or is this about me kicking your ass on the playground when we were ten?”

  “Both. I don’t, for a second, believe the balance of our council up and left without a word and I sure as hell don’t believe you’ve been somehow spiritually anointed as a ruler over us. Do you think your little pet Chihuahua and his band of thugs intimidate me? It’s no secret you intend to start a war and will need our help.” Jeremy stopped, the realization of his inclusion in the group of five suddenly becoming clear to him. “Is that why we’re here? Let me guess, we’re the few who’ve not agreed to kill for you?”

  “I suppose you could look at it that way. I prefer to see you as a group of cowards who will not raise arms to rally the virtues of the tribe above your own. I had hoped to explain our situation and ask for your help but it would appear that your mind is already made up. What about you others?” Darwin asked, pointing at the row of men.

  Each man was offered a moment to express his position, three ultimately siding with Darwin to join GAW and fight alongside them. The fourth, an older man, with decreased vision and mobility was excused from the room with nothing further to explain, as were the others who Trevor met at the door and led away.

  “Where does that leave you, Jeremy? A lone man with a single-minded cause.” As he spoke, he wandered to the head of the desk and pressed a small button under the table’s edge. Seconds later, Lou joined them, his towering presence filling the room with a sense of dread.

  Letend took a few steps away from the door and the intruder, bringing him to the opposite side of the table. “You think I’m scared? I have no one, Darwin, and I have no one to blame but myself. If I join your cause and cower to your needs I’ll lose everything I’ve struggled to restore, my integrity . . . my life. You won’t take that from me . . . you or your goon,” he said, looking over at Louis.