Kinnick grinned back. “Me too.” He turned to Gary. “You can come with us if you please?”
Gary gulped. Kinnick firmly placed his hand on Gary’s shoulder. “They’re probably less likely to throw more rocks if you’re there.”
Gary’s face grew red and dropped his chin to his chest in defeat. “I’m not sure of that, Colonel.”
“Let’s find out together. How lucky is Sheldon’s Lucky Number Seven?”
Gary licked his dry lips.
“How’d you come up with that name anyway?” The three men slowly walked to the front of the restaurant as if they were on death row.
“I. Umm. I was one of seven kids growing up. I was the only one who didn’t end up in jail. Figured it was more luck than anything else, considering the other six of us.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Hunter said.
They reached the front of the restaurant. The shapes and forms of the angry mob were outlined outside. The wind blew their hair around atop their heads. Their cheeks were red either from the bite of the cold or the heat of anger. Kinnick couldn’t tell, and it didn’t matter. They demanded answers and he would give them. If they didn’t accept his answers, then they would be forcing his hand on something he knew he could not order. Their deaths would be on the Commander in Chief. Or would it fall on the man who pulled the trigger?
Gary turned the knob and they walked in front of the store. The people grew quiet. He raised his hands up in the air. “Now, everyone. Hear what Colonel Kinnick has to say. He means no harm.”
“Get out of the way, Gary,” screamed a woman. “Fucking coward.”
A chorus of “yeahs” went up.
“How can we trust the word of a man who is harboring these murderous cowards?”
“He’s prolly in on it!”
Gary waved his hands and shook his head no. “I’m not in on anything. I’m just trying to help the colonel figure this all out.”
“What happened to the Biggs?” shouted a man. It was not lost on Kinnick that the man held an AR-15 in his hands. Kinnick watched Hunter from his peripheries. The Green Beret’s form was relaxed as if he faced a mob on a daily basis. Can we afford to leave hostile people in control of critical points in our defense?
“Not a problem, Gary. I’ll answer them.”
“The Biggs have been detained as suspected murderers.”
“What?”
“Where’s the proof?”
“The boy, Randy, admitted to being there when his father shot Private Gore.”
A man stepped out of the mob. “You’re trying to tell us that you’re taking the word of some scared kid that you probably threatened to kill if he didn’t fess up to it? Probably waterboarded him too. You’re a liar.”
Kinnick shook his head. “That’s not true. He admitted it. We have a rifle that matches the caliber of the bullet that killed the Marine along with the specific kind of bullet used in the attack.”
“You want us to just take your word for it? What are you going to do? Put them to death? What about Andrew?”
“Justice for Andrew! Justice for Andrew! Justice for Andrew!” a woman howled. She turned her back to Kinnick and started pumping her hands in the air as she riled the crowd up.
The mob joined her in yelling for justice. What about the justice for Private Gore? Where is his justice? He came to train these people, not to occupy their town.
Kinnick tried to swallow his feelings of injustice. He had to be above it, at least here. I must treat this like a job or I will get swept up in the whirlwind of the mob. He closed his eyes for a second and raised his hand in the air. He held it there while the people screamed for justice for their fallen.
“We’ll give them a trial and a jury of their peers will decide their fate.”
The group quieted down. A few shuffled their feet. Others stood on their tiptoes to see Kinnick.
The man with the AR-15 spoke. “You’ll let us decide?”
“It will be a trial by his peers, but I will be the judge, and we will only do this if there is no more violence.”
The crowd erupted into conversations amongst themselves and a soft hum filled the air.
The man with the AR-15 nodded as he spoke. “We’ll take you up on the trial only if you put the Marines on trial for what they done.”
Kinnick could feel Hunter tense next to him. Hunter hissed. “Don’t. You know what’s at stake.”
All eyes were upon Kinnick, awaiting his ruling. He looked at the broken glass on the ground. Hunter’s voice buzzed in his ear, but he ignored the soldier. The people were silent. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. People would live and die based on his decisions. The wrong move here and he could be folding his entire operation. Is the American cause enough for them? Is it enough for me? It must be.
He eyed the front row of the mob. “The Marines will be put on trial for their actions.”
GWEN
Hacklebarney, IA
Everyone in town and all of the leaders of Steele’s band were wedged inside the American Legion hall. No chairs were put out and the townspeople stood shoulder to shoulder. There was a clear partition between the townspeople and the newcomers. In the middle were the sympathetic men and women who had helped Gwen rescue Mark.
Gwen stood near the front next to a nervously pacing Mayor Dobson. He held the town charter like a Bible, massaging the cover over and over. He gave her a glance and a snort. “They won’t go for it. They already voted against what you did unilaterally without the community’s support. Why would they vote for you now?”
“Because they’re going to realize that what I did was right.”
“Ha. Then you don’t know them.”
She turned, eyeing the weasel of a man. “I know them better than you do. There may be a difference between nice and good but some are both.”
Dobson snorted.
The sheriff joined them. “All right, everyone. Let’s quiet down.” He waved his hands in the air to gather all their attention. The quiet murmur of hushed conversations died down to nothing. The newcomers had made them nervous. She could see the scared glances at the rough-looking bikers and Steele’s military gear.
“Apparently, in our town charter, there is a special election clause that in times of emergency we may elect a temporary mayor to navigate a crisis. John Reynolds has called for a special election and proposed running his granddaughter, Gwen Reynolds, as a candidate.” People spoke softly to one another.
“Are there any other candidates being nominated?” the sheriff asked.
No one raised their hand.
“That’s fine. Ms. Reynolds must receive sixty-six percent of the vote in order to assume the role as emergency mayor. Each of you has a piece of paper in your hands. At the end of the nomination speeches, you must pick one candidate and write it on the paper or pick none at all.” He nodded his head and stepped to the side, assuming a place along the wall. He crossed his arms over his belly and watched.
Gwen took a step forward. “I-,” she started.
“I’ll begin,” Dobson said waving her back. He walked near the front row of people. Gwen bit her tongue but kept her composure. If I look too eager, or angry, I will just be perceived as a shrill pregnant bitch.
She gestured out to the people. “Please,” she said with all the poise she could muster.
“Thank you, Gwen.” His voice was that of a snake in disguise fighting for survival. “People of Hacklebarney, let me start by thanking you for coming. Although, I feel this is a waste of our time. Only a few days past, we were here and voted to keep these rough, uncouth people outside our city gates.” He spread his arms wide. “Not because we don’t care, but because we didn’t know them and they could be dangerous. And you know what happened earlier today?” His eyebrows lifted. “They kicked in my door today and held me at gunpoint.”
Gasps were audible throughout the attendees. People shook their heads in disgust. Evil eyes went toward the bikers and the Chosen.<
br />
“It’s true. They basically forced this vote upon us and for what? So we could feed them and clothe them and harbor them from their enemies? Why us? We’re only a few simple folk. Making do with what we have. Their presence weakens us and threatens our very existence. Even as we speak, the United States Army hunts for them as traitors.”
More gasps protested from the crowd. Angry yells burst from Steele’s contingent. She glanced over at Mark. He stared hard at the man from beneath his eyebrows. He looked like he would spit fire and burn the mayor to ash.
How am I going to get these people to vote for me?
Dobson held a hand up. “Not proven, but nonetheless, they confirmed that the U.S. Military is after them.” He shook his head in disgust. “Helping these people is not the right choice for us. Since they are here already, a dastardly deed that Ms. Reynolds orchestrated, we should let them carry on and travel away from here.”
People nodded their heads in affirmation. “Get ’em gone,” said Colton Clark. He punched a fist at the stage.
“I agree, Colton. Let’s get them gone, but the first step to that solution is voting for me to continue to be your mayor. Thank you.” He nodded his thanks to the people.
Gwen bit down the anger boiling into her stomach. This lowlife is preying upon these people’s fears. Pathetic. She gave the entire group a big genuine smile. “You all know me. You heard my impassioned plea to bring these men and women across the river, and you voted no.” She took a step toward them. “I understand that. I asked too much. Yet here we are. Look at them.” She pointed a finger at Mark. His eyes grew large and he glanced from side to side. He mouthed, “Me?” She smiled at him.
“That man right there. He’s the father of my child. A decorated counterterrorism agent. He has saved more lives than probably all of us in this room combined. He’s done more than I could even think possible to protect all of his people from me down to a boy he just met.” Max.
“But, as a group, you turned your back on him. You turned your back on Thunder and the Red Stripes. Sure, they look rough and like to party, but they’re survivors, and they protected innocent people trying to survive against the living and the dead alike. You turned your back on them.” She pointed at Larry. “Larry served in the National Guard for eight years. You turned your back on him. Margie was a stay-at-home with two kids at university. You turned your back on her. Kevin was a history teacher from West Virginia.” She bit her lip. His body hung from the gallows. “You turned your back on him and Colonel Jackson hung him for it. We’re better than this. We’re Iowans.”
She shook her head, trying to rid her mind of Kevin’s corpse. “People joke that we’re nice, but nice isn’t the same as good. Nice and polite are just superficial things people do. We’re better than that. We need to do the right thing. The right thing is to aid these people on the run for their lives. Give them food. Give them shelter. What happened to give me your sick? Give me your weak? And give me your poor? These people are people like you and me. And just because they didn’t grow up here doesn’t mean they aren’t like us. I’m here to tell you that what’s across that river is more terrible than any war we’ve ever seen. Thousands of the infected. Criminals. Rogue military. One, or maybe all of them, are coming this way. And those men sitting over there.” She paused and pointed at Mark. “They can fight. You need them as much as they need you if we’re going to make it through this. Don’t lay down and hide with Dobson. Stand for something. Be the good that I know you are.” She stopped talking and greedily sucked in oxygen. Eyes stared at her. She could feel Dobson’s eyes boring into her.
B.B. Palmer stood up and removed his cap. His voice was like gravel. “All well and good, but what about the military? Those are our boys. You expect us to commit treason against this great nation? That might be okay for you city folk, but that’s not how red-blooded Americans do it.”
Mark walked forward. “Colonel Jackson is not U.S. military anymore. I’ve fought with the real military against him. He’s gone mad. He’s murdered dozens of our people for no reason other than he’s out for revenge. His unit is no more than a legion of AWOL mercenaries. He murdered U.S. troops trying to track down a doctor to find a cure. They’re nothing but wolves in protector’s clothing.”
B.B. nodded. “That’s a lot to swallow.” He sat down and said something to Annie.
Mark gave Gwen a nod and continued. “Gwen is a true wonder. She rescued us from the jaws of defeat. We all owe our lives to her and the people here that loaned their boats, risking their lives to help us. You have our deepest gratitude. Thank you.” He paused letting his words sink in. “We’ll respect your vote no matter how it goes. We are men and women of our word.” He stepped back and leaned back against the wall.
“Well, I think we’ve heard enough from the rebels,” Dobson said. He waved to the sheriff, composing himself for a moment before his rebuttal. “I think a quick vote will do fine for this referendum. I bid you one final warning. If you pick Gwen, you’ll suffer whatever crazy schemes she has concocted for you. Stick with someone that has dedicated his life to this community. Someone who’s been here. Not some girl who shows up pregnant in the night to this place that wasn’t good enough for her after living in the city for years.”
The sheriff ambled onto the floor, pulling on his gun belt in an attempt to keep his pants from sagging. “Everyone place your ballots in the basket.” He handed out a basketball-sized wicker basket to people in the front like he was in church collecting alms. The basket passed hand-to-hand through the attendees.
“Dr. Miller, in the interest of transparency, will you count for us?”
Dr. Miller smiled. “Of course.” He joined the sheriff, dragging a table and chair from near the wall.
Gwen wrung her hands together. It was her turn to be nervous. She stared out vacantly at the crowd. Dobson’s mouth turned out a smug little smile in his assured victory. Do I even want this?
She felt a hand removing hers from their tight mess. Mark’s eyes read hers for a moment. “It’s okay,” he said softly, trying to reassure her. His kindness and gentleness surprised her, but she knew that it shouldn’t. Even after all this time, he was the same man.
Emotions were welling up in her, but instead of going for his comforting shoulder, she stood tall squeezed his hand and let go. Leaders don’t cry at the podium and they don’t need their hand held.
Time ticked by slowly as the basket went from person to person until it ended up back in front. The sheriff handed it to Dr. Miller. He began removing the papers one by one.
“Dobson,” he read setting the piece of paper in a pile. “Reynolds.” He set them in separate piles. “Dobson. Dobson. Dobson.” With each Dobson, she grew further and further from becoming an emergency mayor. The doctor read every single ballot aloud.
She lost track of how many she had gotten and how many Dobson had. She swallowed, trying to coat her drying throat. She looked at the doctor. The doctor scratched his head.
“That’s all of them.” He took his arm, laid it flat on the table and separated the two piles of tiny paper even farther apart. He studied the piles. “We have 203 votes for Dobson.” He stopped and licked his lips. “And we have 398 for Reynolds.”
The words barely registered with Gwen. “Fraud!” Dobson exclaimed. “The newcomers must have added votes. That’s the only way.” He took a swipe at the piles. “Recount!”
Dr. Miller stood. “Now, Mayor Dobson, I stand by my count.”
“No. You. Backstabber. You were on her side the entire time. How could you people vote for her? You stupid inbred dipshits.” Spit flew from his lips into the audience. “I pretended to care about all of your pedal-pulls and fairs and goddamn parades. You got a parade for the goddamn corn harvest for Christ’s sake. You got the Pork Queen contest. Jesus F-ing Christ. But then you let some knocked-up whore come in and play on your do-gooder emotions.” His voice grew mocking and nasally. “Help the poor. Save the refugees. Blah, blah, blah. I’ll te
ll you one thing. When that Colonel Jackson comes this way, I’m going to him and telling him what you done.” He pointed at all of them. “You-you’ll see. You made a mistake.” He screamed. “Fatal mistake.”
Gwen walked over to where he stood. He shook in anger, his face redder than a ripe tomato on the vine. “What are you gonna do?” he hissed.
She wound up and punched him square in the nose. His eyes went wide and blood started to pour from his nostrils. “You broke my nose.”
“The only regret I have is not doing that earlier. You’re a coward and a scumbag and these people deserve better than you.” She finished her statement off with an affirming nod. Dobson took a step in her direction. Mark appeared at her side. He pulled his tomahawk halfway from his belt loop and shook his head.
“Don’t be foolish, Dobson. It’s been a long day.”
The sheriff pushed Dobson toward the door. “Come on, George, we should get you home.”
“Take your hands off me, you ingrate.”
Dobson walked quickly through the multitude and out the doors.
Gwen watched him leave. The crowd stared back at her and they erupted in furious clapping. After a moment, they quieted down. She smiled at them, giving them the fullest smile she could muster. She gave Steele a glance from the side.
“Let’s get to work.”
STEELE
Reynolds Farm, IA
“Here you go,” John said with an unsure smile. He handed Steele an old faded map. Steele nodded his thanks.
“Things haven’t changed much. The bend in the river’s widened a bit over time, but the elevation should be right.”
“Thank you.” Steele blew the dust off and carefully rolled out the map on the Reynolds’ parlor table. He set an old brown book with yellow pages he’d been reading on one end. The only legible portion on the spine was scrawled in attractive cursive: Morgan. John handed him another tome of literature and Steele placed it on the other side of the map. He scrutinized the topographical landscape.
The Mississippi River meandered in and out over the map of southeast Iowa. A couple of gray squares on the map represented Hacklebarney. A thin gray line crossed from Hacklebarney to Illinois.
The Departing (The End Time Saga Book 4) Page 38