by Hunt, James
James thought of the ranch and he thought of his wife and son, one of whom was getting sicker and the other getting better. There was always a balance to life. Every action has an opposite and equal reaction. It was the most basic cycle of humanity, and of life in general.
James stared at his calloused palms, covered with grime and sweat. He rubbed his fingertips together, his skin slick from sweat.
A cramp bit into James’s left leg, breaking him from the monotony of his thoughts, and he curled forward, clutching the hamstring that had tightened up. With strained effort he straightened the leg, keeping it still as the slow burn of the cramp faded away and he caught his breath.
“Damn,” James said, his voice cracking.
After a minute of stretching, James stood and limped a few steps as he felt the muscle want to seize again. He managed to push through the pain, and after a few short trips from the door to the back of the cell and to the door again, it dissipated. It wasn’t much of a track, but it helped provide enough distraction until the cramp passed.
James stopped in the center of the cell, knowing that it was inevitable that another one would come to ravage his body unless he got some water in his system. He moved toward the door, the surge of adrenaline triggered by his survival instincts and the need for water. He pounded on the bars. “Hey!” He shouted, his voice bouncing back in his face from yelling at the door. “I need water!” He pounded on the door again, longer and harder than the first go around. “Open this door! Open this door right now! They’re coming! You hear me? They’re coming, and they won’t stop until they’ve blown everything away!” His strength faded and James backed away from the bars, his heart pounding in his head, the room starting to spin. He backed against the wall and shut his eyes.
When the floor finally stopped moving and James was confident he was on level ground again, he opened his eyes. He was on his own.
James slid to the floor, exhausted from his outburst, and he slumped his shoulders forward, his head hung low. Sweat dripped from the tip of his nose, splashing against the same point on the floor, hitting the same spot again and again and again, and for a moment James watched the sweat collect on the floor. He was hypnotized by the fact that he had not moved, and he wondered if he was going to die, or if he had already died. But those thoughts were interrupted by the door hinges to his cell, and he lifted his head, staring at a man blurred from his own fatigue.
“I’ll be damned.”
James blinked, the figure still out of focus.
“When my people told me that James Bowers had come to see me, I told them that they must have misheard.” The man stepped forward, his boots thumping against the inside of the shipping container, his figure still silhouetted from the open door behind him. “Because the James Bowers that I know would never come knocking on my door after the shit hit the fan, since we both made a deal a long time ago to make sure we gave each other space.”
Banks leaned against the cell bars, staring down at James between the iron poles, shaking his head as if he still didn’t believe what he was seeing.
“You must have one hell of a good reason to be here, amigo,” Banks said.
James wanted to stand, but he was too exhausted. “We’re in for a fight, Banks. Both of us. And we can’t run from it.”
Banks scratched the back of his head. He wore a simple outfit. Grey shirt, dark jeans, and boots. He had a holster on his right hip with a pistol inside, and James remembered that Banks had told him he like to cross draw since he was a lefty. “James, I don’t think you understand what’s happening. The world has gone to shit, and we both agreed to let bygones be bygones when that happened. Now, whatever trouble that you might find yourself in, I am truly sorry. But it doesn’t have anything to do with me.” He turned back toward the door. “I’ll get you out of there and send you on your way.”
“Did they tell you?” James shouted. Even with the effort, his voice didn’t carry very far, but Banks stopped. “Did your people tell you what I said?”
Banks spun around. “They told me you were crazy.”
“They’re building a bomb, Banks,” James said, and pushed himself off the ground. “A nuclear bomb. I found a piece of it, and they’re going to come looking for it.” He stopped at the bars, curling his hands around the rusted iron. “And if that thing goes off, even you won’t be able to survive it. Not even all the way out here.”
Banks stepped closer and cocked an eyebrow, challenging James’s assumption. “You sure you want to test that theory, partner?”
“I just need five minutes,” James answered. “You listen to what I have to tell you, and then you can make up your own mind. But hear it from me.”
Banks chewed on his lower lip and narrowed his eyes. He was quiet for a long time and then sighed, shaking his head. “All right, James.” He turned back around and headed for the door. “This better be good.”
Two other men entered, and James gathered his clothes and dressed. This time, when he was taken out of the cell, he was not black-bagged, and he caught his first real glimpses of the compound that Banks had built. And it was more impressive than James had imagined.
James’s assessment of the shipping containers had been correct. The compound was filled with them. There were stacked, side by side, and stand-alone containers everywhere. Banks had built a small city with them.
But what was even more surprising than the size and structure of the place was the number of people that he passed. And they weren’t all just fighters and guards. Women and children walked around, most of them armed, but it was a much more casual atmosphere than James would have expected, and he realized that this place was more than just a compound. It was a community.
James was brought to another container, this one set up like a command room, and he found Banks waiting inside flanked by the pair of men that had found James earlier in the day. James sat down and then greedily and unabashedly drank the two bottles of water that sat on the table.
When James was finished, he crumpled the plastic up and then leaned back in his chair, eyes closed. He’d never been so exhausted in his life.
“So, what’s this all about, James?” Banks asked.
James straightened up his chair and cleared his throat. The water helped clear his mind, and he felt more awake the longer the water had time to funnel through his system. “I know everyone here understands what happened, why the power shut down.”
“EMP,” Banks said. “We’ve been ready for that for years.”
“I know,” James said. “But the people who did this have something more planned for us. Did you find my horse?”
Banks glanced up at the bearded man, who he remembered had been called Gibbons. “Well?”
“I found the horse,” Gibbons answered, his eyes locked on James. “And I found the piece you were talking about. Didn’t look like a bomb to me.”
“It’s a piece of a bomb,” James said. “And to be more factual, it’s a piece of a nuclear reactor.”
Banks cocked his eyebrows up, touching the tips of his hands together. “James, I still fail to see why this is—”
“Why would someone detonate an EMP?” James asked. “They’re looking to cripple us, put us down on the canvas, but that’s not the final move. It can’t be. People would eventually figure out what was happening, so what happens next?” He glanced around the room like a teacher waiting to hear an answer. “What do you do?”
“You finish the job.” It was the second man who brought James in, the one who kept Gibbons from blowing James’s head off. “It’s like a blitzkrieg.”
“Exactly.” James leaned forward. “The people who detonated the EMP didn’t just want to cripple us, they want to destroy us, and if they get their hands on that piece of the bomb, then they’ll have the capacity to do so.”
James waited for someone to speak, and as the silence was dragged out, James felt like he was losing them.
“Banks, I think the organization who did this has people ev
erywhere,” James said. “And that network of people will start looking for that bomb and it will lead them to our back door.”
Banks leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “And what do you want me to do about it, James? Am I supposed to take my men and go fight a war all on our own?”
“I have people at the ranch,” James said. “Good people, but they’re folks who won’t stand a chance if another wave of fighters decides to march on us. I need more manpower.”
Banks laughed, then rubbed his jaw like it was sore. “You are one full hardy son of a bitch.”
“I’m not talking about going off to war,” James said. “I’m just talking about trying to save some people who weren’t prepared. People that I—”
“People that you decided to take care of,” Banks said, thrusting a finger in James’s face. “That was your choice, James, not mine.” He grimaced and then gestured around him. “How do you think I built this place? Do you think I decided to bring people over here because we were friends? Because I wanted the company? No. I brought people here who I knew were valuable. People I knew who could provide skills and knowledge whenever the shit hit the fan.”
“Banks, please, I’m not—”
“Get him out of here.” Banks stood and then walked toward the door. “I don’t have time for handouts.”
“Then what do you want?” James shouted, jumping from his chair, and the aggressiveness brought Banks to a halt. “You want to barter? You want to trade? Name your price.”
Banks kept his back to James for a while, and when he finally did turn, he did it slowly. “My price?” He stepped closer toward James, the pair the same height, able to look at one another eye to eye. “What can you offer?”
“After we drove out the enemy in Ruckins, we ransacked their supplies,” James said. “MREs, weapons, medicine, we got it all. It’s enough for an army.” He glanced around the room. “And it looks like you could use a little insurance in case this conflict lasts longer than you think.”
Banks ground his teeth, and then nodded. “What’s the volume?”
“Five pallets of MREs and one pallet of .223 ammunition,” James answered.
Banks scoffed. “That for a trade to potentially feed even more mouths? No. I’d need at least double that.”
James didn’t have that much to spare. They’d only found eight pallets of MREs, and that was all the ammunition. But he stood his ground. “Eight pallets of MREs and the ammunition stays the same.” He glanced at the two guards. “Your boys are already well armed.”
Banks laughed. “You’re not in a good position to start making demands, James. You’re the one who needs my help. Not the other way around.”
“You’re wrong.” James stepped closer, knowing that he was already on thin ice, but if he was going to push this over the edge, then he needed to do something drastic. “And I know that you’re wrong firsthand.” He glanced around, nodding. “Your place, this community, it’s impressive.” He slowly turned in a circle. “Lots of guards, in the middle of nowhere. Able to grow your own food I presume, probably even have some livestock stashed away somewhere.” He stopped when he turned around. “But because you picked the middle of nowhere, you don’t have any game to hunt if food runs out. And the last I checked, the only water source was several miles north. And if something happens, if you end up needing help, you’re even farther from trying to seek anyone out.” He shrugged. “Maybe those people will never find you, but this isn’t pretend anymore, Banks. This isn’t theoretical, or hypothetical. An army is coming to wipe us off the face of the earth, and if we’re going to stop it, then we need each other. It’s the only way to survive. Whether you like it or not.”
Having spoken his piece, James stepped back, returning to his chair, where he sat down with his back toward Banks. For a long time, he heard no movement, and James hoped that it had worked.
Finally, Banks returned to the table, sitting across the other side, and James knew that it had worked. The man had finally understood what he had.
“Your people can stay here,” Banks said. “For the pallets we discussed.”
James tried not to reveal how much he was relieved, but it was hard not to show any emotion. “Thank you, Banks—”
“But.” Banks held up a finger. “I’m not fighting this war for you. Because even if these people do end up coming here, the moment we poke our heads out of the sand, then we become a target. Just like you became a target the moment you interfered with the town. I’m not putting my people at risk.”
“Banks,” James said, leaning forward. “We can do this. If we band together—”
“I’m not finished,” Banks said. He took a moment to gather his thoughts and then rubbed his palms together. “I need guarantees that when your people come here, there won’t be a chance that they’re followed. Which means I need someone to stay behind and make sure that if your ranch is attacked again, this organization is thrown off the trail. And it needs to be someone I trust will get the job done.”
James had done enough deals with buyers for his cattle to know how to read between the lines, and it was no different here. But instead of bartering for price per pound, he was fighting for how many lives could be saved against the cost of how many would be lost. But if Banks only required James to stay behind, James knew that was a deal he couldn’t turn down.
“All right,” James said. “I’ll stay behind. I’ll throw them off your trail, make sure it doesn’t get back to you.”
“Good,” Banks said. “Then we have a deal.”
Banks stretched his arm across the table, and the men shook hands, and just like that it was done. James had successfully negotiated safe passage for his family and the rest of his people.
“I’m going to send a man back with you to confirm the details,” Banks said. “So long as you’re able to do what was said, then your people will return with my man.”
Banks left, and James was once again quarantined at the room until they had given him his horse and the rest of his weapons.
But James knew that he had a daunting task ahead of him when he returned to the ranch. Not everyone would be thrilled about the deal he struck up. And he spent the entire ride back trying to figure out how to convince Mary and Jake to leave him behind.
43
Mary pressed the cool cloth against Jake’s forehead, the water gently rolling down his temples and into his hair. She knew that she should be resting herself, but she couldn’t stand to leave him alone. And when he cracked his eyes open, she brought a cup of water to his lips.
“Drink,” Mary said.
Without question, Jake drank from the cup. When he finished, he leaned his head back onto the pillow and glanced around confusingly at his surroundings. “What happened?”
“You passed out,” Mary said. “The others helped bring you down.” She sighed, the lines on her forehead wrinkled together in worry. “You shouldn’t have been out there in the heat like that working.”
“Mom, I’m fine,” Jake said.
“No, you’re not,” Mary relied. “You’re sick.”
“I know that,” Jake said, turning away. “It’s not like I haven’t known that all my life.”
Mary placed her hand on his shoulder. She knew that he knew. And she didn’t know why she felt the need to remind him. Jake’s entire life had been nothing but one long, strenuous effort, and the boy had always tried to make it through with a smile on his face.
When he was little and the condition was really bad, Jake would be bedridden for weeks at a time. It was a very boring time, but Mary and James tried to make him feel as normal as possible.
They gave him books and games, but what he loved most was the telescope that his father had given him that he used to chart the constellations, and anytime he finished charting a new system, he would pin it to the roof of his room so he could gaze up at them before he fell asleep.
When Mary had asked him why he liked the stars so much, he had told her that it was rea
ssuring to know that in a world where his condition was changing, or getting worse, there were somethings that wouldn’t change. The North star would always shine bright. Orion’s Belt would always be there even when he couldn’t see it. The Big and Little Dipper too. All of that helped Jake through those rough years when doctors were still trying to figure out the best way to treat him.
Faith had always been an important staple in the lives of the Bowers clan, but seeing her son like this, seeing what had become of her home, she questioned how a just God could do all of this. And while she still didn’t have answers to those questions, she knew that it was still her job to protect him. No matter what.
Finally, Jake turned back to his mother. “Mom, if I don’t make it—”
“Hey,” Mary said. “Don’t you talk like that, understand?” The anger was misdirected, and she wiped her nose, shaking her head. “You’re too strong. Stronger than you realize.”
“Mom, just listen,” Jake said, his voice eerily calm. “If something does happen, if the unthinkable—”
“It won’t,” Mary said. “Your father is going to come back, you’ll have the procedure done, and you’ll be fine—"
Jake tightened his grip on his mother’s hand. “I want to be buried at night, beneath the stars.”
Mary wept, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make the tears stop, and then Jake began to cry as well.
“Mom?” Jake asked. “Promise me. I want to hear you say it.”
Mary kept her head bowed, her face still scrunched up and her lower lip still quivering. She stayed like that for a little bit, but after a few moments, she regained her composure, and with tears in her eyes, she nodded. “Okay. Yes, I promise.”
Jake smiled. “Thank you.”
Mary gently laid down by her son’s side, stroking his hair, but it felt like he was holding her more than she was holding him.