A New America Trilogy (Book 1): The Human Wilderness

by S. H. Livernois

  "Don't worry, I'm not going to have you executed, Dr. Beedie. But I am going to punish you, and you'd be wise to consider this your last warning." Olive turned to Eli. "Mr. Stentz? You know what to do."

  Every muscle in Eli's body froze. No. He almost spat the word. Not Jane.

  "Now!" Olive yelled.

  Eli glanced at her, a knot of heat burning over his heart and rising to his neck and face, a spray of needles raking his scalp. What would happen if he cracked Olive's head against these cement walls instead? He thought of the guard just outside the door, the knife at his hip. The man wouldn't hesitate — he'd kill Eli, then Jane. All that before he managed a second strike against Olive's jaw.

  "Mr. Stentz," Olive purred in his ear, "she's not a woman, but a dissenter, no different from the rest."

  Once again, Eli had no choice. He took a step toward Jane. She sighed deeply, tipped her head back and turned to present her cheek. She closed her eyes. Eli made a fist, pulled his arm back.

  How could he do this to her?

  At the last minute, he opened his fist and struck Jane with an open palm, as lightly as he dared. She gasped in pain as Eli's handprint bloomed red across her cheek.

  "I said punish her!" Olive barked. "You will not defy my orders again!"

  Olive's pale face stared up at him, its chiseled features distorted with anger. In the doorway, the guard casually placed a hand on his knife.

  Kill them all. That's an order.

  Eli turned to Jane. Her head was still cocked back and her red cheek faced him. He willed his fingers to close into a fist again. The next second, he rapped the delicate bones of Jane's jaw. The crack reverberated in the close quarters of the room and rang sharply inside Eli's skull. Jane swayed on her knees and slumped at the waist. He almost dropped to her side to help her up.

  How could he do this?

  "Again!" came Olive's voice.

  Jane peered at him, bit her lip, and nodded very slightly. It didn't matter that it was necessary to save his life and probably Jane's. To rescue innocent girls from torture. It didn't matter that Jane said it was okay. Hurting her made him sick.

  Eli launched his fist back again. His second punch made Jane spit blood. Olive spat another order. Eli obeyed again. He swallowed tears, agony gripping his throat like a vice. This time Jane fell to the ground and didn't get back up again. Eli glanced down at his knuckles, covered in her blood. The room blurred.

  "That ought to do it, I think." Olive placed a cold hand on Eli's shoulder. "Once again, you've proven yourself a loyal servant, Mr. Stentz."

  Eli stared at the icy face, the sharp bones and dead blue eyes. He hated every line and curve.

  "I'll turn in for the night. When she wakes up, take her home."

  Olive's lithe frame slid through the doorway and down the hall. Her guard lingered a moment, hand still on his knife, then followed.

  On the floor, blood dripped from a split in Jane's lip to stain the cement floor. Eli placed a finger on her neck and was relieved to find a steady pulse. His knees buckled from weakness and he fell to the floor next to her; he clutched her warm shoulder.

  Jane's words the day before cut through him and Eli felt the room spin.

  Olive deserves to die.

  Chapter 36

  If all went to plan, Olive would be dead in an hour, and it was Eli's job to kill her.

  Olive sat on her luxurious couch, long legs crossed as guards assembled around her, waiting to call her meeting to order. Eli stood in the foyer, waiting, Jane's words that morning thrumming in his head.

  "Slide the knife into the back of her head, just like you did to the doctor," she'd said. "Though I don't think she deserves such a clean death."

  Jane stared at him through her swollen eyes, ringed with angry purple bruises that spread along her cheek and jaw and hid her freckles. Eli turned away from her face, ashamed at what he'd done to it the night before. But he was finally ready to listen as Jane explained why Olive needed to die.

  Olive had a dozen armed men at her command. Someone would catch them ushering the girls out into the night. Someone would kill them for it. The risk was too great.

  "Don't you want to save them?" Jane seethed, digging her small, strong hands into his arms.

  The plan: Jane would cause a distraction, and for the first time, Eli would be completely alone with Olive. That's when he'd thrust the knife into the back of her skull. There would be chaos, and chaos would be their opportunity to usher the girls out the back door. Jane was sure the plan would work.

  "It's for the greater good."

  Jane's words crept along Eli's flesh like insects. She expected him to do the killing and asked for it easily, but he wanted to be the rescuer and protector, not the killer. Maybe by the end of this day he would be both. Maybe this death would balance out the other lives he'd already taken.

  A woman and her daughters.

  The three pretenders in the woods.

  Frank.

  Bill.

  Lily.

  Dr. Ghrist.

  Dozens more he couldn't name.

  And now Olive.

  Her face was carved into his mind beside Seth's. Every night, their voices called to him as he slept, ordering him to maim and kill. He never refused, not once, and now he was following orders again.

  Yes, Jane, I'll kill Olive.

  Panic crawled up Eli's throat, so he held onto an image: the girls in white bursting out of their prison and into the woods, free from their abusers. He and Jane leading them through the wilderness to Hope. Eli ran a shaking finger along the knife sheathed at his hip.

  Slide the knife into the back of her head, just like you did to the doctor.

  Gruff voices echoed off the high ceilings. Eli shook his head and forced his fear aside. It would do him no good here and Jane was counting on him. Eli cleared his throat and stood straight. He gazed out the window at the guest house.

  For the girls. For Jane.

  "Is everyone finally here?" Olive called.

  Coldness spread through him, surfacing on his skin as clammy sweat.

  The men hushed; they filled the cavernous living room wall to wall. Olive rose gracefully and sauntered to the front of the room and everyone turned to face her. She studied the faces of her loyal men, her expression peaceful yet lifeless.

  "I have one simple question for you all." She paused grandly. "Are you ready to do what's required to take back the world from the infected?"

  The men answered in growling unison. "Yes."

  Olive stretched her eyes and mouth wide, raised her arms.

  "Are you willing to lay down your lives?"

  "Yes!" Their voices filled the room to the rafters.

  "Are you willing to kill?"

  "Yes!"

  "And will you follow me into a new, better world?"

  "Yes!" The ceiling seemed to shake as the men stomped their feet, raised their fists, hooted.

  Olive smiled broadly. Eli's attention moved to the window and a flicker of movement outside. With a frightened lurch of his stomach, he watched Jane scoot down the road toward the guest house. She'd raised the alarm. The distraction was coming. Every muscle in Eli's body tensed and he flattened his back against the wall, heart thumping. He said a prayer for Jane's safety.

  "By my calculations, our visitor will arrive tomorrow to begin his rituals," Olive said. The guards murmured. "Instead, I have a mission of my own."

  She paused, a pale eyebrow flickering up her waxy forehead, a smile slinking across her lips.

  "I want you to help me put a bullet in his head."

  Every face in the room went blank. A smattering of voices broke the silence, then quieted. Eli gazed out the window at the guest house, where Jane was now talking casually to a guard. What did Olive's plan mean for the girls? Eli doubted it meant freedom.

  "As before, he'll arrive with only a dozen or so of his own men. But he has many creatures inside our settlement. It's them I'm worried about, not our dear visitor. Aft
er he makes his inspections and before he begins his rituals, he'll settle in to dinner with me, as usual. I want four of you in the dining room and a couple outside the front door. The rest of you will be watching his men. Kill anyone on sight who thinks of being brave. Anyone."

  The men muttered assent. Jaws were set, muscles were tense, eyes laser-focused. They were ready for battle.

  "When it's done, we'll have control over our own destinies once again. We will build the world we want to live in!" Olive raised her arms, triumphant. "Are you with me?"

  A fierce applause erupted at this. A couple men hooted. Some reached out to shake Olive's hand. In the chaos, Eli slipped out of the living room and to the bathroom. He shut the door and pressed his palms and left ear to the door. His hands shook against the smooth wood. Voices buzzed in the living room, too low for him to hear. He waited for his moment.

  Yes, Jane…

  And what kind of world would Olive build if he didn't?

  The front door opened. A voice screeched into the room, announcing a terrifying message.

  "Parasites have breached the wall!"

  A terrified hush fell over the room and lasted nearly a minute.

  Olive's frantic voice rent the quiet. "Don't just stand there!" She screamed her orders and footsteps crashed through the living room. The front door slammed shut.

  Silence.

  This was his moment.

  Kill Olive. Save the girls. And even Grant's Hill.

  A dark dread filled Eli's chest like a poisonous fog. He forced his arm to move, to grasp the doorknob and turn it slowly. He told his legs to walk down the hallway to the living room. It was empty and vibrated with dense quiet. Olive sat alone on her couch, staring up at the row of pictures on the fireplace mantle.

  The first part of the plan had worked. Eli was alone with his victim. He walked toward Olive and tried to fake surprise.

  "Where's everyone?"

  Olive spun around. "Oh, thank God someone's still here." The sculpted lines of her face drooped in fear. "The infected have gotten in. Stay here. Protect me."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Eli posted himself between Olive and the foyer; he caught a glimpse of the scene out the window. The guards at the guest house were gone, and so was Jane. She would be inside, lining the girls up at the back door. Olive dropped her head back and Eli stared at the blond sweep of her hair.

  With Olive dead, Eli would slip out and Jane would let him in. With Olive dead, no one would order the guards to chase them into the wilderness.

  Slide the knife into the back of her head.

  So easy.

  With a deep, rattling sigh, Olive leaned forward and clasped her head. "Is this the end, I wonder?"

  "The walls are strong, ma'am."

  "No, they're not. They'll never be strong enough." Olive shook her head. "The world belongs to them. And we'll join them soon. Soulless, mindless, animals."

  Eli took a couple steps forward. He fingered the hilt of his knife and stared at the tender spot at the base of Olive's skull.

  "We'll keep 'em out."

  Olive huffed. "That's what I thought. I told myself, whatever it takes."

  "You're doing your best, ma'am," Eli croaked. He took another couple steps and closed his fingers around the hilt. His heart skipped.

  "This is my best? The things I've done... to those girls. How could I?" Olive's voice broke and she stared at her pictures. "But situations arise. When things are good, you tell yourself you'd make the right choice, the moral choice. But reality … desperation … it requires us to commit much crueler acts."

  Another step. Eli told himself to unsheathe the knife.

  "And you can't imagine every consequence," Olive whispered. "If you did, you'd never act. And you have to act."

  Eli stepped quietly behind the couch. He stared at the back of Olive's head, the smooth, white-blond sweep of hair, the pale curve of her ear, the line of her stiff, white collar grazing the soft skin. He imagined slipping the knife in just below the hairline. Blood spurting from a gash in her neck, staining the white collar and her white couch. So red and wet and so much of it.

  Her death would free people. The girls, the men and women toiling in Olive's fields. They'd cheer and thank him as their hero, not their enemy.

  "What do you imagine it's like, being infected?" she asked. "Do you think we'll remember who we were? I hope not ..."

  Eli slipped the knife from its sheath and pointed it at her neck. He imagined its point puncturing flesh. That familiar rush, hot and pulsing and powerful, coursed through him like fuel. He looked around: the house was silent and empty.

  "I don't know, ma'am."

  Eli's hand shook. The blade shivered inches from the back of Olive's neck. He told himself the consequences of Olive's death were good and right.

  It's for the girls. For the greater good.

  But Eli's desire for revenge was stronger. For Jane and Lily, for himself. No one was barking orders in his ear this time, and he didn't need to be convinced that morning. He already wanted to kill Olive.

  Eli stared at her narrow, delicate neck, the curve of his fingers and their bruised knuckles wrapped around the knife. Hands that had broken bones, slit throats, pulled triggers, thrust blades into bellies. Against such a man like him, with no guards to protect her, Olive was a defenseless woman. She was thin bones and weak limbs.

  Blue eyes flashed across his mind and a mother's words trembled in his ear: This isn't who you are. You're a good man.

  A good man wouldn't do those things, no matter how normal they became or how easy it was to obey. A good man didn't kill women and hurt little girls. And if he killed when he wanted to, he'd become something else. A body carrying a dead soul. Lost, inhuman, monstrous.

  The front door creaked open. Eli didn't move. Footsteps sounded in the foyer. Still, Eli stood with his knife pointed at Olive's neck. A dark shape emerged in the corner of his eye. It stopped.

  Eli turned. A guard stood at the top of the steps, staring at the scene: Wyatt. His eyes flicked from Olive, oblivious in her chair, to Eli hovering over her with a knife pointed at her neck. He scowled. Then he nodded. Eli understood the gesture: Go ahead, do it.

  Eli stared at the back of Olive's head, holding the point of the blade inches from her pale ear. She turned to the guard standing in her living room.

  "Is it over?" she barked.

  The guard eyed Eli and opened his mouth to speak. Behind him, the door crashed open. Eli sheathed his knife quickly and stepped back. Three more guards ran inside.

  "False alarm, Mrs. Grant," said one.

  Olive leapt from the couch and marched to the guards in three steps. "What do you mean?"

  "A rumor, started by some kids, I'd guess."

  Olive grasped her chest. "A rumor? The infected haven't breached the wall?"

  "No. Just the usual crowd banging and howling. The men are checking every inch, just to make sure."

  Everyone was silent a moment. The guard who caught Eli eyed him angrily. Olive's pale cheeks flushed pink.

  "Round up the peasants in groups of six. I want everyone questioned!" Olive yelled. "Whoever did this won't get away with it." The men nodded and ran out the door and into the street. "You, too, Mr. Stentz."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  On weak legs, Eli followed the others out the door and down the stone path. He met Jane halfway to the road, her bruised face afire with anger. She took in a hissing breath, ready to strike.

  "What the hell is going on?" Jane gestured at the stream of guards heading into Olive's. "I've been waiting in there for fifteen minutes. It was supposed to be done in five."

  "Don't." Eli held up his hand. "I couldn't."

  "You couldn't? You mean Olive's still alive?"

  Eli had never seen Jane so angry or disgusted with him. He stared right back, into her mossy green eyes.

  "I ain't a killer, Jane," he said.

  Chapter 37

  The next night, Eli waited for Jane behind th
e horse barn. The sun was sinking in the sky on the other side of the wall, tinting clouds overhead pink. Parasites howled into the gathering night.

  Eli let out a gust of white breath and ran a thumb over his bruised knuckles. He hoped the cuts and scrapes would be his last, that Jane would listen this time. He had to make her see there was another way. He'd convinced Wyatt with a few brief words stolen after dinner, and if the guard played his small part, the plan could work.

  Footsteps thudded in the alley beside the barn. Jane pounced from the shadows.

  "Why the fuck did you ask me here?"

  Eli didn't blame her for being angry. She thought she wanted justice, but it was really vengeance she sought, and he'd denied her that. Eli reached out his hand. Jane scowled and slid her calloused fingers across his palm, clasping it tightly.

  "Come with me," Eli said.

  He led her through the narrow stretch of woods between the buildings and the wall with his head down, listening to the familiar cadence of Jane's feet behind him.

  "Where are we going?" she hissed.

  "You'll see."

  Jane huffed and he squeezed her hand, a silent plea for her to be patient, to listen. They threaded through the trees in silence, their feet crunching over a carpet of gold, red, and orange leaves. A few stubborn red leaves clung to the branches and trembled in a slight breeze. A dozen feet away, the trees parted and a clearing opened up. On the other side, the ancient oak twisted into the sky, to the wall, over its lip.

  Jane tugged at his hand, made him stop. He spun around to find her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth pressed into a white line.

  "God damn you, Eli, where are we going?"

  "Listen —"

  "I'm done listening." Jane jerked her hand from his grip and slammed her palms into his chest. Eli stumbled back a step. "Do you understand what you've done? That may have been our only chance!"

  "It wasn't, if you'd just listen." Eli raised a hand to silence her. "I have a plan."

  "I don't want to hear it." The crooked shadows of branches raked Jane's face. "We just have to get you alone with her again."

  Jane stared at a spot on the ground, her eyes spread wide in fury and bloodlust. Eli shivered at the sight.