Refugees from the Righteous Horde (Toxic World Book 2)

by Sean McLachlan

  Pablo still held his mother’s hand.

  “How about you go outside?” she told him.

  “ButMo-o-om!”

  “We have something very important to talk about.”

  Pablo sulked.

  “Hey buddy,” Jeb said, pulling the carved branch out of his backpack. “You know what this is going to be?”

  Pablo looked at it and his face brightened. “Is that a baseball bat?”

  “It will be when I finish carving it. It’s maple wood, the best around. How about you take it outside and swing it a bit to get used to the feel?”

  “Cool!” Pablo grabbed the branch and hurried outside.

  Annette smiled at him. Jeb grew warm.

  Am I a hero now? Can I stay?

  Clyde rummaged through the filing cabinet. He stopped, brow furrowed, biting his thumbnail.

  “Besides the robe, did The Pure One wear anything else? Like something on his belt maybe?”

  “Yeah,” Annette said, “come to think of it he had a sort of satchel on his belt.”

  “I noticed that,” Jeb said. “It was more like a box. I saw it from pretty close at the sermons. Yeah, a black box. Didn’t look like a satchel.”

  Clyde’s face brightened. “Ah! Maybe. . .”

  “This is all the intel I’ve collected over the years,” he said, opening one drawer, searching around in it for a moment before closing it and looking in another.

  “Here it is!” he said, pulling out a file with several sheets of yellowed paper with faded type.

  “That’s a computer printout,” Annette said.

  “This is more than fifty years old,” he said, reading through the first page. He turned the page around so Annette and Jeb could see.

  A photo at the top of the article showed a black box with a few small dials on top.

  “Personal force repulsion system and direction finder,” Annette read the title aloud.

  “A personal force field,” Clyde nodded. “Just being issued in a limited capacity for high officials at the fall of the Fourth Republic. Didn’t think any still existed. I’ve never heard of anyone even finding a broken example.”

  “Where the hell did he get it?” Annette asked.

  She and Clyde turned to Jeb, who shrugged.

  “Probably wherever he got that Gau-18/E,” he said. “Has heaps of M16s and ammo too.”

  Clyde nodded and narrowed his eyes. “Must have found an old army cache or government bunker.”

  He sounds jealous.

  “So how do we kill him?” Jeb asked, wishing there would be a second chance to try.

  “It’s only good against bullets and other light attacks,” Clyde said, continuing to read. “Needs a regular power supply too.”

  Jeb nodded. “He had a portable solar cell. Used to open it up outside his tent. The wire went inside but we never saw what it was plugged to.”

  “Too bad you weren’t close enough to use Nguyen’s grenades,” Clyde said. “That would have done the trick.”

  “I screwed this whole thing up!” Annette cursed. Jeb laid a hand on her shoulder.

  “We didn’t know, and we could have never gotten that close.”

  “Now they’re going to think he’s a god,” Annette said glumly.

  Jeb thought for a moment.Yeah, they probably will.

  That will make them a hell of a lot stronger.

  “We’re going to see them again,” he said quietly.

  He looked at the others. Their eyes told him they knew he was right.

  Clyde sighed. He looked at Annette and motioned at Jeb. “So what do we do with him?”

  “He saved our lives at least twice in the firefight. He did more than his part of the deal.”

  Clyde rolled his eyes. “And now you’re going to ask for him to stay, right?”

  “You know me too well,” Annette said with a smile.

  “Yeah, too damn well.”

  Jeb felt like the sun had just come out from behind a cloud. Overjoyed, he walked over to Annette, who turned to him and almost opened her arms before letting them fall to her sides. Stopping himself at the last minute, he smiled and nodded.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “This is conditional,” Clyde warned as Jeb and Annette smiled at each other. “It will have to have The Doctor’s approval. In the meantime you’ll have to go back to the pen.”

  “Clyde, no!” Annette said.

  “Oh, all right. They’ll be back in a few hours anyway. You can have freedom of movement in the Burbs. With a guard, mind you.”

  “Roy can put you up,” Annette said. “I bet you want some sleep.”

  Jeb laughed. “I’m too excited to sleep now. I think I’ll go play some baseball.”

  Annette beamed at him before her face suddenly turned grim. “And I have to go look at a murder victim.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  For the second time that day, Susanna sat in a vehicle watching the wildlands speed by outside the window. Donna and the rest of the slaves had been released in exchange for Weissberg getting to keep the Hummer. Kevin had been griping the entire way back.

  “Don’t worry,” The Doctor told him from where he sat next to her and Marcus. “Once they realize they can’t fix it and don’t have the agricultural base to make biofuel, they’ll trade it to us for something.”

  Kevin lapsed into a sulk.

  “So you’re going to send some food to the porters?” Susanna asked The Doctor.

  “For the third time, yes. And I left some guards with them to keep Abe from getting vengeful.”

  “It’s going to be a long walk back,” she said.

  “They’ll make it.”

  “And what will they find when they return?”

  “We haven’t decided yet. I have enough to worry about right now,” The Doctor said, looking away as a signal that the conversation was over.

  But it wasn’t over.

  “I want to know,” Susanna insisted.

  The Doctor ground his teeth. “You can stay in the Burbs. You’ve earned it. As for the rest of them, we were thinking of giving them fishhooks and letting them live on the beach.”

  “From slaves to fisheaters. How generous.”

  The Doctor punched the roof of the vehicle, causing the driver to swerve slightly and dart a nervous look over his shoulder. “It’s better than you’d get anywhere else. You were part of an invading army for crissake!”

  “We were slaves of an invading army, and before that we were farmers. We’re going to be farmers again. Those lands the Merchants Association left behind, we can farm those.”

  The Doctor snorted. “Who the hell do you think you are? You don’t get to make that decision.”

  Susanna glared at him. “Yes I do.”

  A peal of laughter from Marcus made them both turn.

  “Looks like you’ve met your match, Doc!”

  “Oh shut up, Marcus.”

  Marcus didn’t shut up. He kept on laughing.

  The vehicles pulled in to New City and a worried crowd came to meet it. The Doctor climbed onto the hood and made a speech, explaining what happened and what the deal was. Everyone looked hurt and angry. A community was being torn apart. While nobody seemed to care much for the people of the Merchants Association, who Susanna guessed had probably been putting on airs and lording it over everyone else for a long time now, they were despondent that the one stable thing in their life, their city, had lost a part of itself.

  Susanna knew they’d get through. These people had lost a lot more and still made it through somehow. She looked at all those expectant, concerned faces, hanging on The Doctor’s every word. She had been right and wrong about him. He was a megalomaniac, thinking he could do anything as long as he got his own way, but he could be swayed if made to see which was the right path. Marcus would convince him to let the porters stay. They’d build a new life for themselves here. None of them would ever have to bow their heads again.

  One face in the crowd ca
ught her eye. A familiar face.

  It was a young, strong man holding a carved stick in his hand and standing next to a small Latino boy.

  Susanna stared at the man, who didn’t notice her in the crowd as he listened to The Doctor’s speech. She swore he had seen him somewhere before.

  The Doctor finished and everyone moved off. The familiar face was lost in the crowd.

  Marcus came up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “How about lunch at my place?”

  “I’d love to, yes.”

  The next hour saw them sitting at Marcus and Rosie’s wobbly old card table that always seemed to have a crowd around it at every mealtime. Jessica and a teenaged boy she hadn’t met sat at one end, so deeply engaged in conversation they seemed unaware of anyone else. A couple of neighbors had dropped by too. Everyone was chattering about the events of the day except for Jessica and the boy, who were in their own little world.

  This is what she wants,Susanna thought.A normal life, not being an errand girl for her father.

  Susanna smiled as she saw the two young people flirting. Perhaps Jessica would get the freedom she wanted. Growing up with that zealot for a father had to be a rough life. But Jessica had a bit of her father in her too. Susanna had seen it when she had tossed the letter onto the fire unread.

  She tucked into a huge lunch and reassured herself that she had made it. She was free and starting again after all the horror of the past few months. She’d have to deal with that pigheaded mayor and that pigheaded scavenger, but those were problems for a future day. Right now she had a good meal in front of her, served by people she knew would become friends.

  So why was she so troubled?

  It was that familiar face in the crowd. It kept nagging at her memory like a fingernail picking at a scab.

  The fork dropped from her hand. She remembered.

  Take away the beard, make him a bit thinner, dress him in tattered clothing. . .

  It was Jeb, the man who liked to have her shine his boots and cook dinner while he forced himself on Donna night after night. A member of the Elect. What was he doing here? Didn’t they know who he was?

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Frank uncovered the body where it lay in a cool root cellar. Decay had already set in and Annette held her nose against the stench.

  It was Tiffany all right. Her face was now even more mutilated, and her arms and legs shattered. A terrible knife wound had ripped out her abdomen.

  “God damn,” Annette whispered.

  “I found her on the beach a little to the north,” Frank said. “They chucked her in the sea but the sea gave her back.”

  Annette studied the body. It had been stripped. She noticed that several of the nails were broken and the knuckles scuffed. She’d put up a fight.

  Something caught her eye. There was a little thread poking out from under one of her nails. Annette bent over and looked at it. She plucked it out. It was a short thread of some smooth material. She went over to the light to take a better look.

  It was purple.

  Purple silk.

  Five minutes later Annette, Frank, and a couple of hastily assembled deputies crashed through Fly Daddy Bradley’s front door. Pushing aside squawking prostitutes and cursing customers, Annette stormed into Fly Daddy’s office to find him in bed nude. Of all the ugly things she’d seen in this fallen world, that had to be one of the ugliest.

  Fly Daddy leapt up and wrapped a blanket around him.

  “What’s the meaning of this!” he demanded.

  “Not wearing your pajamas today?” Annette asked.

  “Get out of my office. You have no right to be here!”

  “Search the room,” Annette ordered.

  Frank found the pajamas in the bureau and held them up. There were five scrapes down the front of the shirt, as if done by fingernails.

  Annette turned to the pimp. “Fly Daddy Bradley, I’m arresting you for murder.”

  The deputies grabbed him. Annette swayed and had to grab onto a chair to keep from falling.

  “Looks like you need some sleep,” Frank said. “Go on home, I’ll take care of this trash.”

  “Make sure you—”

  “I’m putting him in the pen with the machete men. Posting two armed guards. Go to bed.”

  “I need to—”

  “You need to sleep,” Frank said, putting his hands on her shoulders, turning her around, and gently pushing her out the door.

  Annette slogged back towards $87,953 and her waiting bed. She was going to sleep for twelve hours. The rest of the world could just wait until she woke up.

  The crack of wood hitting leather made her look. She was just passing the clear zone between the Burbs and the New City wall. Jeb was running after the baseball that Pablo had just hit. The guard sat not far off, smiling as he watched. Pablo saw her and ran up.

  “Did you see that hit I made? Homerun for sure! I’ll be hitting them better when Jeb finishes carving that bat.”

  Annette gave him a hug.

  “It’s not for sure that he’s staying,” she warned.

  “Yes it is!” Pablo leapt up and down. “The Doctor just came back and said it was OK.”

  A tension she didn’t know she had suddenly vanished.

  “Is everyone all right?” she asked.

  “Marcus has a bandage on his head but everyone’s alive. They say Jackson is going to be fine.”

  Another worry gone. Annette nodded, feeling weak. That would have to be good enough for now. If Marcus was up and talking he wasn’t too bad off. The Doctor must have come to some sort of deal with Abe but the details of that could wait too. Bed. Sleep.

  “Gotta take a nap, kid.”

  “OK, I’m going to play.”

  He ran back to Jeb. Annette smiled and raised her hand. Jeb gave her an uncertain grin.

  That can wait too,she thought.But I’ll come back to that. Definitely.

  As she hit her bed she felt like she was falling into a bottomless pit. An instant later she was sound asleep.

  Sometime later, far too soon, a pounding on her door awoke her. She groaned and turned over, hoping the world would go away. The pounding continued.

  Then the door opened.

  “I’m asleep, for fuck’s sake! Can’t you people survive an hour without. . .”

  Her voice trailed off. It was Clyde, looking grim. Several armed citizens stood behind him.

  “Where’s that machete man?” he asked.

  “Jeb? He’s on the clear zone playing with. . .Pablo.”

  Suddenly her heart turned to ice.

  She ran for the door.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Jeb lined up his body and threw a lowball to Pablo. The boy swung the bat and connected with a crack. The ball flew right for Jeb. He pretended to fumble it and went running after it as it rolled away.

  “Yay! Another home run!”

  “You’re a good batter, kid,” Jeb said as he caught up to the ball and picked it up. He tossed it up and caught it. It was well preserved. In fact it was almost perfect. He hadn’t seen a ball in this good condition since he’d been Pablo’s age.

  “I’m the best batter in the Burbs,” Pablo said with obvious pride.

  “You guys should start a Little League.”

  “A what?”

  “A bunch of kids teams. None of the adults ever started one for you guys?”

  “Adults are always busy.”

  “What about your mom’s boyfriend?”

  Pablo giggled. “Mom doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

  Bingo.

  “Get ready, here it comes,” Jeb wound up and threw the ball again. Pablo cracked it again and Jeb missed it for real this time. He ran after it, grinned at the guard who sat watching a little ways off, and scooped it up.

  He stopped and looked around. Yeah, this was a hell of a place. And now The Doctor said he could stay. A roof over his head, three meals a day, a job. He’d have a real life again.

  And there’d be p
lenty of time for baseball. He started walking back to Pablo, who ran up to meet him.

  You’re going to live to be a hundred, buddy, and now it’s actually worth it.

  He stopped in his tracks. A small crowd approached. Clyde and Annette strode in front. Tears wet Annette’s cheeks. Beside them walked a short, ugly woman who looked familiar. Pablo was tugging at his hand trying to get his attention.

  Jeb’s heart went cold.

  That porter chick, Donna’s friend. What was her name?

  She’s told them who I am.

  Option 1: Fight. Grab the guard’s gun while he still didn’t know what was going on. No. He couldn’t shoot these people, and he’d never make it out anyway.

  Option 2: Run. They’d only shoot him in the back.

  Option 3. . .

  He looked down at Pablo. The boy looked up at him, curious.

  Option 3. . .

  Jeb reached into his back pocket and pulled out Leonard’s clasp knife. In his peripheral vision he saw the crowd stop.

  Option 3. . .

  He handed the knife to Pablo.

  “Here. You can work on that bat with Kevin and Rachel.”

  Pablo broke into a grin and turned the knife over in his hands. “Cool!”

  “Go on to your mother now.”

  Pablo turned around and noticed the crowd for the first time. He got a confused look on his face, glanced at Jeb, who nodded, and then ran to his mother, glancing back uncertainly as he did.

  Annette folded him in her arms and passed him back to an older black man, who hustled him away. Then her face took on a hard set, and she and the rest strode towards him. Clyde uncoiled a rope.

  POSTSCRIPT

  Pablo wiped the tears from his eyes and promised himself that he would never, ever,ever talk to Mom again. OK, he’d have to ask her permission to have Billy and Carla come over to play, and he guessed he’d have to talk to her if that trader with the honey candy came back to town, but he wouldn’t talk to her anymore except for those times. Not once.

  Why did they have to take Jeb away? He was cool. Mom said he was bad, that he was one of those cult people who had attacked the city. Pablo knew that wasn’t true. Jeb wasn’t a bad guy.