by J. J. Holden
Jaz made herself smile and laugh. Inside, her adrenaline still pounded. She still felt trapped like an animal, and visions of gutting Jack with her knife now flooded through her mind. “Yes, of course. The cider is just this way.” She led Choony away from the isolated spot in the Jungle, toward people and fires and cider and food. When they were safely away from Jack, she whispered, “Thanks. Your timing was great.”
Choony lightly squeezed her hand in his own, reassuring her. “Of course. That didn’t look like a comfortable scene. I am glad I found you when I did. My Karma and yours made sure I found you tonight.”
Jaz nodded and clenched her jaw. Yeah. Uncomfortable was not the word she’d have used for that scene. “I was looking for you earlier, and just stopped to rest my feet. That’s when Jack stumbled onto me out there.”
Choony waved at someone going the opposite direction, then said, “I will talk to Frank about Jack’s failure in his probation period. You won’t have to worry about him again.”
Jaz rested her head on Choony’s shoulder as they slowly walked toward the party. Part of her thought that exiling Jack was harsh for a guy who hadn’t done anything, but the bigger part of her was convinced that Choony’s arrival was the only reason. She loved the feeling of having Choony beside her. Sure, he was non-violent, but she felt safe with him in a way she hadn’t felt with with anyone else before. He used his mind to keep her safe. And once, at an event they never discussed anymore, he had used force to save her life.
She had no doubts about the depth of his connection to her, and realized that his unwavering support was half of what had let her come out of her shell, becoming “New Jaz.” Jack’s unexpected advances had surprised her, and she had reacted in the ways that had been beaten into her for most of her life. That weak reaction disgusted her. She didn’t want to feel disgusted with herself. Maybe she should have gutted Jack anyway. She had thought about it…
“Choony,” she said, “let’s get something to drink, and then maybe you can get me away from this crowd. I’m just not feeling it tonight.”
“Feeling okay?” Choony asked. When she nodded, head still on his shoulder, he smiled down at her. “Of course we can. You just need a breather, some quiet time to collect yourself.”
Choony led her to the lines for cider and they each got two cups of the fermented stuff. Then he led her east, around the guard tower and the east fish pond, into the small network of tents that housed anyone for whom there wasn’t an earthbag dome yet. She and Choony refused a dome, despite being among the first ones to be eligible. They spent so much time on the road that it felt wasteful. There would be domes for them eventually, but in the meantime their spots went to full-time residents.
The tent they shared was a heavy, military-style bivouac, meant for six people. It fit fine on the wagon, where they spent more of their time than they did at Clanholme, and they had set it up more permanently than it would have been on the road. They shared the tent on the road, and they shared it here as well.
Choony held the door flap open for her, and Jaz smiled as she ducked inside. Within the tent, their queen-sized inflatable air bed occupied the back left corner, leaving the front half and part of the rear empty. There, they stored their bugout bags, toiletries, and other necessities.
Jaz looked wistfully at the air bed. How many nights had they slept together, often with his arm over her for warmth? Her knight in shining armor.
She didn’t need such a knight—not this new, stronger Jaz—but it was such a blessing to have one anyway. Choony was her rock when she felt herself spinning out of control, like now. The encounter with Jack had shaken her, brought back memories, causing her body to react on its own however much she wished otherwise. It was a PTSD-related response, she had once been told. Understanding what was happening to her didn’t make it any easier to go through, but she could handle it.
She set her empty cup on a simple wooden crate, which they used as a nightstand when it wasn’t packed full of toiletries in the wagon. One big gulp downed half of her other cup, and she set that down as well. “Choony,” she said as she sat down on the air bed, “thanks for coming when you did.”
Choony smiled and took a sip of his own hard cider. He didn’t drink often, she knew, nor did he drink a lot on those rare occasions. He said, “I didn’t rescue you. If he had tried anything else, you would have dealt with him quite effectively. I saw your posture change from victim to predator, and he had no idea. I saved him, not you. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, and more skilled as well.”
The compliment brought a smile to her lips. The room spun a little, just a slow veering to the right. She was drunker than she had intended to get, she realized, but not the drunkest she had ever been. Not by a mile.
She let out a giggle when he said “skilled.” The confused look on his face was even funnier. “Oh, Choony. You have no idea what ‘skills’ I have. I’m totally awesome at a few things.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him.
Choony chuckled. She realized that he had taken it as a joke. He said, “I have no doubt about that. I think you’re amazing at everything you do. Hey, are you feeling well? You look a little pale.”
Jaz nodded, but she really wasn’t feeling that well. The room was definitely spinning faster now, and veered more sharply. Ugh. She looked up at Choony, her gaze roaming over him from toes to top. He stood with the doorway behind him, the faint moonlight highlighting his high cheekbones, his pronounced chin. And she had seen him naked before. It would have been impossible to avoid, given their time together on the road.
Yes, she had the liquid courage now. If he turned her down that night, with any luck she wouldn’t remember it in the morning. But if she hoped to do anything, she’d have to move quickly, she realized. She felt as though she could pass out soon.
“Choony, come sit next to me. I need you to lean on, tonight.”
Choony nodded and moved away from the door, sitting gingerly next to her on the airbed. “I’m always here to lean on, Jaz. Tonight or any night.”
Jaz leaned her head on his shoulder. Reaching for his hand, she slid her fingers between his own and rested it on his lap. She tilted her head to look up at him, her lips slightly parted. “Choony…”
He looked down into her eyes, his face mere inches from hers. “Yes?” he asked, voice steady and calm. His gaze didn’t waver.
Jaz felt herself melt into those soft, brown eyes. Where they held hands, she felt like she could almost crawl into his skin. She willed her desires to flow through her, out her hand, and into Choony. Her mind spun, trying to think of something to say, some way of telling him what she wanted without risking hurt feels if he rejected her.
But screw it. No words came to mind. She decided to let her body speak for her. She moved her mouth to his. Room spinning, she almost missed, but then felt their lips connect. It was amazing, soft, hot to the touch. She watched to see his reaction.
Choony smiled, but slowly pulled his hand from hers. His other hand brushed her hair away from her face, where it had cascaded down, and then kissed her forehead. He stood up, and Jaz felt her heart drop to the floor. She fought a tear from welling in her eye. Why was he rejecting her?
“Choony, I’m sorry—”
Choony interrupted her, voice low and soft, “Jaz, don’t apologize. You know my feelings for you, without ever hearing me say it. Tonight, you found yourself in a bad situation. I helped you. I think right now, you may be confusing things. And the cider hasn’t helped.”
“But Choony, don’t you want me? Why do only the bad guys want me, and you don’t?”
Standing before her, he reached up and again brushed her hair with his fingertips. It was gentle, and loving. “What is there not to want? You’re beautiful, Jaz. You need to learn that your truest beauty is on the inside. What’s outside, as gorgeous as that is, it’s a mirror of the beauty within you.”
“So, why not?” Jaz looked up into his eyes, longing to be in his arms. Was she confuse
d, like he had said? She didn’t feel confused.
“Tonight, you’re drinking. I would never want to think it was only because of the cider, or that you had to force a smile onto your face in the morning. That would kill me.” He turned toward the door flap.
“Stay with me,” she said plainly.
But instead of walking outside, as she had expected, he pulled the canvas door flap shut and tied it closed, then sat on the bed beside her. He put one arm around her shoulders and laid back onto the bed, his head on the pillow, and pulled her down with him. She ended up half laying on him, her head resting on his chest, one arm over him. She felt him stroking her hair, and his lips briefly on her forehead again. He said nothing, and she relished that soft, tender moment.
She closed her eyes and let the alcohol take her into oblivion, feeling like she had never closer to another person. Most of the time, Jaz was a warrior, a fighter. She could channel the darkness inside her to stand strong in the world, to fight the good fight. Good enough for both of them.
But being able to let that hard, warrior part of herself go for just a little while, to feel open and relaxed without her masks… That was something she relished about that moment. She was glad he had turned her confused advances down, now.
Those thoughts rolled around in her mind for a few minutes until, all at once, a heavy sleep overcame her.
- 9 -
0600 HOURS - ZERO DAY +366
FROM THE BLUFF, overlooking Uniontown, Pennsylvania, Nestor looked down upon the farthest bastion of the rebellious Free Republic. He had helped make that possible. Everything east of the Monongahela River, south of Pittsburgh, and the Allegheny River north of it were consolidating rapidly, with only a few Empire-loyalist survivor groups remaining.
The rebellion had simmered for quite a while, courtesy of the Empire’s lies and draconian policies that had made the people little better than slaves. But once the simmering burst into the open, the open rebellion had exploded, seemingly spontaneous, and had raced east almost as fast as Nestor’s units had.
He and his four hundred troops had only been camped outside of Uniontown for a few days, and had caught the tail end of the “civil war” going on inside. The fighting here, as elsewhere, had been brutal, with no quarter given between the rebel and loyalist sides. Now, the losers were finally buried—the winners had given the enemy dead that much consideration, at least in part because Nestor had suggested that treating their dead well might help speed the healing from that rift, and it would clearly show off the difference between the Free Republic and the old Empire.
The small town below resounded with the noises of rebuilding, clearing rubble, and the chaos of establishing a new government under the umbrella of the Free Republic. He heard the voices of criers in town wafting faintly up to him and his encampment.
“They sure are busy beavers,” Ratbone said. He sat at a folding card table beside Nestor. “More enthusiasm than skill, but it’s a good start.”
“I agree. They’ll make it now that they’re unified in purpose. At least I think they will. If any of the towns we’ve freed will make it, these guys will. They’re just so… happy to be free. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen happy.”
Nestor heard horses fast approaching from the west. Two of his riders were coming in, horses running full speed. Most of his people used bicycles, but he had horses for the scouts. They were faster than bikes in the short term, only losing to the cyclists after a day or two in the field. The scouts didn’t spend that long apart from the unit, so horses were more effective for this use.
Nestor stood and awaited them. When they arrived, the two men slid from their horses almost before they had stopped. “Boss, we have a big problem,” blurted one.
The other spoke rapidly as he reported, “There’s a big unit to the southwest, coming up fast. And boss? They got vehicles. Small tanks, APCs, humvees. Who the hell are they?”
Shock and fear slithered into his brain like tentacles of some mind-control monster, and he froze for a second before he stammered, “What? I don’t… Were the vehicles marked?”
“Yeah. They got the American star on them. Their infantry are all in cammies, half carrying mil-grade rifles and the other half with civilian weapons. At least six hundred of them, but that’s a guess. We bugged out before they saw us.”
Ratbone shouted, “Shit, boss, we gotta pack it up. We need to fade out. Right now.”
Nestor was inclined to agree. It sounded as though he was outnumbered, and they had vehicles—real ones, with real big guns. “Two choices, boys. Slide into town and bolster them, or head back the way we came. Thoughts?”
Ratbone said, “Run and hide. It’s the Highlander Way.”
One of the outriders gave Ratbone a dirty look, then said, “The Free Rep’s got six hundred fighters in town, we think. With us, that’s a thousand. Against six hundred. If we get pushed back from Uniontown, there’s nothing to rally around until Johnstown, nearly halfway back to Harrisburg.”
Nestor’s mind raced. Running was their way, as Ratbone had so eloquently put it quoting a movie line. But the rider was right, too. If he fled now, they’d be forced marching for up to sixty miles, and there was no guarantee that this new enemy unit couldn’t catch up to them with their vehicles en route, when his own forces were stretched out on the move.
“Strike the camp, and we’re going into town. You two riders, go alert our friends in Uniontown. Ratbone, send bike messengers to Johnstown and Harrisburg. We have to warn them.”
Nestor hoped the approaching unit wasn’t hostile, but it seemed rather unlikely. He knew the Empire had been the puppets of the Mountain General, and the only explanation for a new unit with tanks and more was that the Free Republic had just kicked over a hornet’s nest.
At the very least, a stand in Uniontown would buy the rest of the Free Republic time to rally. He hoped it would be enough.
* * *
0700 HOURS - ZERO DAY +367
Frank looked at Michael, his eyes as bleary as his friend’s. They had been up for two days evaluating the intel they’d received from Harrisburg, and it didn’t look good. They had read through a veritable mountain of papers, and had a mountain still to go, but the overall situation was clear.
“Houle is coming,” Michael said, finally putting voice to what they had clearly both been thinking.
Frank nodded. “Seems that way. We know where his forces are and where his strongholds are. Colorado is his—we figured that. But we couldn’t have imagined that he claims everything between NORAD and Kansas City, Oklahoma City, and El Paso.”
“From the reports we’ve read now, Houle’s system of forts stretch from that border all the way out to the Mississippi River. It’s just… genius. Historically, that was called ‘encastellation,’ and it’s effective. It’s how the English finally brought the Welsh under heel, you know.”
Frank paused to think, when an idea struck him. “On the other hand, that means he can’t be sending a huge army right now. His core territory is just too far away from here, right? These troops have to be compiled from his forts, whatever they could spare from several different ones. They had to move up the Mississippi to St. Louis, his northern frontier, because they’d have had to come a long way impossibly fast if they had just headed east on I-64, don’t you think?”
“That seems likely. We have no idea how many units he could send, but we know he’s sending them. When they’ll arrive is anyone’s guess, but they could easily upset the tenuous balance of things between us and the Empire.”
“I guess we had better have Ethan let the rest of the Confederation and Taggart know. Thank goodness we still have those two battalions Taggart loaned us from New America.”
“I suspect those are more or less permanently stationed with us. Soon they’ll be married into our people and so on. But Frank, these soldiers don’t have tanks. Very few mines. A handful of anti-tank weapons, which we’ve been holding onto to crack heavy fortifications such as our o
wn earthbag construction. Nothing we have is powerful enough to stop a mechanized unit, trust me on that.”
Frank frowned. He rubbed burning, tired eyes. “I need sleep or more coffee. This is too much to process in my condition.”
Michael said, “I’m for sleep. We’ll pass the word to Ethan and then get some rack time. We’re no good to anyone if we’re too tired to think straight. Besides, we’ll get little enough sleep once the fighting starts.”
He and Michael then carefully organized the paperwork stacks that dominated Cassy’s kitchen counter, then headed down to the bunker to tell Ethan. Frank figured they could get sleep down there, too. There wasn’t any noise or daylight to disturb them, down in the hole.
Once they got down below, as Frank punched in the bunker door’s security code, he said “I hope we have enough time to prepare. We’re going to need it.”
* * *
1000 HOURS - ZERO DAY +367
Cassy saw Choony and Jaz sitting together in the chow hall, that massive military tent the Clan had repurposed. No one else was inside at this time of day, being busy with working the farm and building more earthbag domes for people, or other important projects. “Hello, you two. How’s life treating you, sitting idle in Clanholme?”
Jaz smiled and waved. “We’re totally good. Bored, though. I’m so used to living life on the road that sitting here for so long is, like, driving me bonkers.”
“Well that’s fortunate,” Cassy said with a wry grin, “because I have a new mission for you. But only if you’re up for it.”
Choony set his cup down. Clearly, she had his attention. He said, “Yes, do tell.”
“So here’s the deal. Instead of sending you south again, I need you to head west into the Free Republic. Wander around making contacts, just like you always have, but instead of finding people worth joining the Confederation, you’ll be doing two things.”