The Age of Embers {Book 3): The Age of Reprisal

by Schow, Ryan

“I thought you were such a jerk when I first met you,” Maisie said. “And even though I know you’ve got that side of you, this side is pretty great, too.”

  “I’m big on bad first impressions,” he joked. “Keeps the riffraff away.”

  “Am I the riffraff?”

  “Amber Gunn was,” he said. “But Maisie Sullivan? The jury’s still out on that one…”

  Laughing, she leaned her head against his arm as they walked, seemingly appreciating the day. She averted her eyes from the destruction, maybe wondering what was next—if anything—for the two of them.

  “I think you should work it out with Jill,” Maisie finally said. He didn’t expect that. “You guys have a history and that has to stand for something.”

  “Maybe,” he said.

  “You don’t really think about you and me, do you?” she asked, looking up at him. He assumed this was her way of asking how he felt about her.

  He cast her a sideways glance she purposefully ignored.

  Men tended to come out and ask direct questions, but women often took the long way around, hoping in return that men would say something insightful, something encouraging, something entirely unmotivated by them, almost like they thought of it on their own, even though they didn’t. This, of course, was why men continued to disappoint women. This was also why women continued to drive men crazy. That small disconnect in conversation that sometimes felt enormous in its implications.

  “You mean, do I think of you and I as a real possibility?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I think about things in broader terms.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, it used to be a woman wanted a man who would love her, cherish her, protect her and provide for her. Then everything overtly masculine in a man became bad. Lately, man himself has become bad. Especially if he’s white, or even half white, like me. They say he’s too rough, too insensitive, too…toxic. So now we’re supposed to become sensitive, learn to be good listeners, act more respectful.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” she asked.

  “Nothing, so long as you can preserve those traits of masculinity that work to attract women.”

  “Is Jill too masculine for you?”

  “She is.”

  “Does she demand you take on the more feminine role?” she asked. Rock looked to see if she was joking, but judging by her expression, she wasn’t.

  California women…

  “No, but now we’re two chiefs in a household and that means getting along is a balancing act we seldom get right.”

  “I’m an independent woman,” she said. “You don’t take issue with independent women, do you?”

  “You know how to be gentle, how to laugh. When I was with you, you put me at ease, even in what, at the time, I considered a very awkward, very unlikely situation.”

  “Yeah, that was cute.”

  “I’m a complex person, Maisie. We all are.”

  “I’m not who you think I am.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “What if you’ve made me out to be someone I’m not?” she asked. “Or worse, what if you miss the real me because that big brain of yours can’t find second gear?”

  He stopped, looked at her and opted for the truth.

  “Maisie, I honestly don’t care about having a relationship right now. Whether I get sex, love and affection at this point pales in comparison to what’s ahead. I was trying to tell you that before. Men’s roles haven’t changed. We still need to be strong, to provide for those depending on us, and to protect those we love most. But women’s roles have changed, too.”

  “You want us back in the kitchen?” she asked, not mean, more like for clarification.

  “No. Let me rephrase. Jill is ideal for survival, but not ideal for a long term relationship. And I don’t know enough about you to make any kind of judgements. So I’ll just choose neither of you for now and focus only on healing. And then when I’m better, I’m going to help Jill grow and fortify this compound whether we share a bed or not. Not because we have to, or because I feel some sense of ownership of my house or the land, or even some sense of blind obligation to her. This is what survival means. Having a romantic relationship with a woman means very little to me right now.”

  “One enhances the other,” she said.

  “One also complicates the other. Women need to let go of this poisonous mentality society has thrust on them and think about survival.”

  “I hate to break it to you, big guy, but we’re always thinking about survival.”

  “This is different.”

  “Do you think people like me will want people like you so we can survive? Almost like if I don’t have you, I’ll wither away and die, like some damsel succumbing to distress?”

  “I don’t care what you do,” he said, his ribs starting to hurt. “And whatever Jill does is her prerogative. I just know my work load tripled and my body won’t let me do what I need to do as a man.”

  He stopped, caught his breath, looked at her.

  She had fiery eyes, her expression off-putting. This was the same look every woman gives every man who says something that hurts their feelings or worse, offends them.

  He almost groaned and walked off.

  Instead, he kept his cool.

  “You didn’t think I was the kind of guy who needed a girl, do you?”

  “I thought you might actually appreciate one.”

  “I’m the first man to appreciate a woman in all her glorious light, but men have been conditioned by society, or at least California society, to watch where we walk, so to speak.”

  “And now?”

  “I’m going to walk my dirty feet all over the world’s white carpet if that’s what it takes to survive. And somewhere along the way, it’s going to offend some people.”

  “And if you lose both Jill and me in the process?”

  “Then I do.”

  Pushing on, his favorite swimming hole now in sight, he tried to put this conversation behind him. Maisie, however, turned around and headed back home. He saw this, thought about it for a second, then continued on alone. He was better off alone anyway.

  God, this is peaceful!

  To Rock, there was something about walking that particular road in the middle of the day. It wasn’t cool enough to be miserable, or so hot that he couldn’t catch his breath. To him, it was just right. Moments like those gave him clarity, peace after a tough row with Jill, and sometimes just a break from the rigmarole of life.

  That day, fresh off two small fights with the two most important women in his life, he vowed to find some beauty in this seemingly ugly new world, even if the very act of it killed him.

  Breathing in the fresh air, smelling the aromas of bountiful foliage, taking in the sights of a cloudless blue sky, he wondered why he thought the apocalypse was going to be non-stop fighting, bad guys versus good guys, everyone having to die. No one had to die. People didn’t need to fight. There was enough land and resources for everyone.

  A pessimist would dig his own grave and crawl inside, but an optimist might see a culling like this as a cleansing, a chance to start anew. Nothing about this world was ideal, but still, one’s mindset would prevail given enough time and the right circumstance.

  He wanted this to be true because he was an optimist. He wanted to see the world as wiped clean and ready for a do-over. But after today, he was a little disappointed to find he had the same problems as before, only the scenery had changed and the work had gotten a little harder.

  He meandered down to the reservoir he thought of as a “the swimming hole,” stripped down to his briefs, then waded into the pond and let the cold water soak into his body. When his feet could no longer touch bottom, he gave a slow stroke and floated, gauging his ribs’ response, making sure he didn’t do anything to reinjure himself.

  “You got anything on in there?” a woman from the shoreline asked as he floated on his back, his eyes closed, his face to the sun.

  He o
pened his eyes, let his body sink so he was only a head above water, got a better look at her. She had a bucket in her hand and a sour look on her face.

  At least she sounded grumpy.

  “I do,” he said. “Why?”

  “This is my drinking water and I’m not going to swallow down your BO or butt sweat.”

  “That’s why you boil it,” he said. “Burns the butt sweat right out of it.”

  “Get out of there,” she said, waving her hand at him.

  “I’ll get out when I’m ready to get out.”

  “I have a gun,” she warned.

  “I have a death wish,” he called back.

  She shook her head, dipped her bucket in the water, then frowned at him and left. Finally he was alone again. That’s when he saw her coming from the road.

  Maisie.

  She moseyed his way, her feigned informality causing him to smile. This was an unexpected surprise.

  “What was that woman saying?” she asked.

  “She was saying she likes her water with a little less ‘man’ in it.”

  “Are you naked in there?” she asked.

  “Of course,” he fibbed.

  She looked around, then took off her clothes and waded into the water, swimming to him with a goofy smile on her face.

  When she got near, she said, “If it came to it, can you love a monster?”

  He swam toward her, curled an arm around her bare butt and pulled her forward. “Let me get a good look at you then,” he teased, “see what I see.”

  When she reached down for him, she found he was wearing his underwear and said, “You liar!”

  Playfully she pushed off him and swam away.

  “I just wanted to see you naked again. Really store this one up here,” he said, tapping his forehead.

  “It’s nice in here,” she finally said, treading water a few feet away “Present company excluded.”

  “It sure is,” Jill replied, as she walked out of the bushes, which startled them both. Apparently she was on the road, too, coming back from where he couldn’t imagine. “This is where Rock and I used to come and skinny dip when we first bought the house.”

  “Cheaper than a pool,” he said, nervous but not showing it.

  “And now you’re skinny dipping with her?” she asked, a long sadness in her voice.

  “Sort of,” he said.

  To Maisie, she said, “I overheard you two talking when you got back.”

  Maisie had a hard time holding her eyes and it was clear she felt uncomfortable being naked while getting confronted by the forthright ex. In that situation, Rock knew that for Maisie, there was no way to just grab your clothes and slip out the back door.

  “Rock tells me you two had sex,” she said.

  “It was just once.”

  “Now you’re here naked with him,” she said. “Seems like number two is on the horizon.”

  “I’m naked right now because my body makes up for my face,” she said.

  “I’ll say,” Jill replied with a cold edge to her. Then to Rock: “Why did you bring her to our home?”

  “It’s my home.”

  She shifted from one foot to the other, folded her arms and glared at him. “If it’s your home and you don’t want me there, I’ll leave tonight.”

  “No, you won’t. This thing you built, it’s bigger than just you and me and whose name is on the deed, Jill. We have a home that’s become more of a compound and you have it working well.”

  “I don’t want to be there and not be with you, or worse, see you with her.”

  Now she was glaring at Maisie.

  “I don’t want to be with either of you right now,” Rock said. Jill just stood there, brow pinched together, her jaw firmly set.

  “You’re going to come crawling back to one of us,” Jill said.

  “And like I said earlier,” Maisie added, talking directly to him, “both of us might be gone.”

  Jill looked pissed that she agreed with Maisie, then to the girl, she said, “Did you give him an ultimatum?”

  “Actually I’ve been trying to get him to go back to you,” she said.

  “And?” Jill asked, turning to Rock.

  “He says you’re a hard ass,” Maisie replied, “that you fight like a man.”

  “I do.”

  “We’re two chiefs in a single tent,” Rock said.

  “We are,” Jill said.

  “So take off your clothes and hop in, the water’s great,” he said with a smile.

  She looked over at Maisie and said, “Not with her in there. And not with you in there either.”

  With that, she turned and left.

  “Well that went better than I thought,” Rock said. Maisie swam to shore, started putting on her clothes and said, “You’re a jerk.”

  “And here I thought most women wanted an honest man.”

  “He’s got to be good, too.”

  “I get that.”

  Trying to get her clothes to fit over her wet body was a fight she was out to win, but then she stopped, looked at him and said, “Are you a decent man, Rock?”

  “I’m honest and my intentions are true, so yes, I think I am. But what makes a man decent these days isn’t solely his actions, it’s his reputation.”

  “Pretty soon your actions will be your reputation,” she challenged.

  “And what will your actions say about you?”

  “I don’t quite know yet.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Draven walks inside where we’re with Orlando and says, “I invited three young boys and the single woman across the street to have dinner with us tonight.”

  “Why would you do that?” I ask.

  “It’s time to find out who’s really in this neighborhood, because these guys who attacked us aren’t going to get run off and not come back.”

  “I’m all for saving the world from bad guys,” Ice says, “but we’re about to pull up stakes and blow this pop-stand of a city.”

  “You are,” Draven says, “but I’m not.”

  “Then have your own dinner at your own house,” Eliana says. Ice and I both turn to her and she says, “What? I’m only saying what everyone else is thinking.”

  “I’m not thinking that,” Adeline tells her.

  “Me neither,” Brooklyn replies. “Maybe they need help or someone to talk to. It would be good to reach out.”

  “What about the big talk earlier?” I ask Draven. “About being the grey man. We’re on the map now, our resources are limited, we’ve been attacked and you want to throw a block party? That doesn’t really jive with your earlier warnings.”

  “It’s already done,” Draven says, matter-of-fact. “I’m just giving you the courtesy of telling you we may have extra company for dinner.”

  When Draven leaves, I say, “We can’t leave Chicago until Orlando comes out of this coma. There’s no telling what damage may be done to his body, let alone his brain.”

  Right now, it’s all I can do to stay calm. Draven killed the guys who did this to my son, but the DEA agent in me wants to cut the head off this snake one body at a time.

  “Obviously we have to stay put,” Ice says.

  “We need to know who we’re up against,” Eliana adds. “Just in case they come back before we can get out of here.”

  I turn and look at this hardened Guatemalan and for the umpteenth time, I wonder what her life was like that she could go from so hot to so cold. One minute we’d be laughing together, and the next she’d look at you like she wanted to pull out your spleen.

  “I agree,” I say.

  “It’s too late to go now,” Ice says. “But in the morning?”

  “What if they come back before then?” Adeline asks. “I mean, we didn’t get them all. And the ones we did get…they’re dead out in the street. How are we supposed to be around all those dead people?”

  “I’ll start cleaning them up,” Brooklyn said.

  “We don’t have enough dumpsters this time,”
I tell Brooklyn.

  She nods, getting the Eric reference, but she’s a different girl from then. It was only days ago one of her tormentors from school was shot in the head on our front porch by Diaab Buhari. Since then, the body count has skyrocketed. We knew this would happen.

  I did, anyway.

  Then again, the end of civilization is proving out to be a much messier business than even the experts predicted. It was bound to get worse. And all I know is if we don’t clean up these bodies and find out who’s behind all this, then things just might go from worse to fatal, and I can’t have that.

  None of us can.

  “I’ll take first watch tonight,” Ice says.

  “I’ll join him,” Eliana replies. “If that’s okay with everyone else.”

  One of the things I like about Eliana is that she knows her value to the group. With her background, her third-world approach, and her desire to be a part of this, it’s hard not to think of her as one of us. Lord knows, I’d never want her against us. Whatever made her who she is, what she’s become, it has to be far worse than Isadoro or I ever encountered.

  “That would be great, actually,” I say. “I’ll run lookout after that, and maybe Draven will step in when I’m done.”

  “I can help,” Adeline said.

  “We’ll manage just fine,” Eliana offered.

  “Unless you want to help me,” I add. “I could use an extra set of eyes, and the company. But it will be cold and quiet.”

  She smiles at me, then says, “Speaking of our neighbors, I know our group is getting too big as it is, but there’s not one person I’d turn away.”

  She says this while looking at Eliana. The women’s eyes meet. Right away I know Eliana will misread her intentions, her statement. Not that it will matter.

  “If Carolina and I are a problem…”

  “Actually, it’s because of you that I feel safe here. And I’m glad Carolina, Bianca, Alma and Constanza are here, too. All of you make me want to step up, help out more, be a better person.”

  Adeline was never really a territorial woman, but she had a mean streak in her that developed in her later years due to the challenges of our marriage. Fortunately I don’t see that mean streak now. Lord knows, Eliana’s got enough for all of us.