“Enough,” Pete interrupted.
Trent chuckled deeply. “I think Petey here has a bit of a crush.”
“I know,” Garrett laughed, slapping the top of the table. “Did you see how stiff he was all night? It was like he was nervous. I’ve never seen him nervous around a girl.”
Pete shook his head, taking a big swig of his beer this time. If they understood who she really was, they’d know why he had been a little stiff. The whole night he was partly waiting for her to do something nefarious, and partly obsessing over her nearness. It just about drove him nuts. The sound of her laughter was musical, and every time she did it at whatever her brother or Seamus said, he wanted to groan in frustration. Being around her was messing with his head, and then he’d gone and invited her out again tomorrow night. Masochist, he chided himself.
“I think he actually likes this one,” Seamus teased.
“Okay, okay, enough about Dinah. She’s just a girl, nothing more to it. And don’t be mentioning anything around the General. You all know how he is when it comes to newcomers,” Pete said.
“He doesn’t just like her, he looooves her,” Garrett said, making kissy faces at him.
“You’re all a bunch of idiots. I’m out.” He stood up, throwing on his jacket.
“Where you off to?” Trent asked. His older brother didn’t like Pete out and about on his own.
“Bridge’s and then home. Have a nice night, boys.” He threw some money on the table and walked out, lighting another cigarette as he made his way out of the bar.
The streets were empty as he walked, his footsteps echoing in the night. He turned the corner, ducking just as a beer bottle flew past his head, shattering against the brick wall of the building beside him. He cursed, jumping out of the way of the glass shards. He looked around, spotting the culprits walking slowly toward him from the shadows across the street. Two of the three held steel bars in their hand. The middle sported brass knuckles on his right hand.
“Well that got your attention,” the middle one sneered.
“Mate, are you insane?” Pete replied, bracing his feet apart. This was just what he needed – a good fight to wind down the day.
They walked closer, practically twitching with energy. Pete took in their plain clothing of jeans and sweaters and knew these weren’t soldiers. None of the New World army boys went out without their black outfits. This lot were from around here, which meant they would know who he was and who he’s involved with.
“Do you know who you’re dealing with, mate?”
“Oh yeah,” the middle one said, laughing. The other two goons joined in. “The big, bad Pete McKay. We know exactly who you are.”
“Then you should know this is a really stupid idea,” Pete said calmly.
“Considering there’s three of us, and only one of you, I’d say it’s not that stupid.”
“Debatable.”
They stopped ten feet away from him. “We also know that you met with Weapon X – alone. Seems the General ain’t too happy you neglected to tell him about that.”
Pete covered his shock with a bland look. Jesus Christ, he thought. The General sent these idiots? Genuine anger burned through him. This was the second betrayal in a week from Douglas Hatcher, and he was not going to stand for it.
“So he sent the three stooges to get me?” he asked drolly.
“Watch it McKay,” the one on the left warned. “We’re supposed to just rough you up, but accidents can always happen.”
“I’m terrified,” he replied dryly as he took off his jacket. “Why don’t we just get on with it then, yeah?”
There was no warning before the three attacked. Pete blocked the one who had just spoken, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until he dropped the bar. Then he sent a punch right into the man’s gut. He fell, gasping for breath. Pete turned and ducked just as the other man swung his bar. He felt the air whizz by his ear. If that had hit him he would have been out cold. He brought his fist up into the guy’s jaw, followed by an elbow to his nose. A nasty crunching sounded on impact. Blood gushed from the guy’s face as he held both hands to it.
Pete turned to the last guy, jumping back as his metal-covered knuckles breezed by his nose. He blocked another punch before landing one of his own. He went for another hook when hands gripped his arms from behind, pulling them painfully back. The nose bleeder held him as the other two righted themselves.
“Your head always was too big, McKay,” brass knuckles spat.
“I’ve been told I’m exceptionally proportioned,” Pete replied with a wink.
A blow hit him right in the gut, air expelling from his body. Bloody nose kept him upright as more blows hit him, one right on the left side of his face. He could feel the skin break beneath the brass knuckles. The two guys switched so the other one could get in his shots. Pete braced for it, but before he could attack there were hollers from behind them, and the pounding of running feet. Pete knew those shouts well.
Trent came into view first, like a raging bull plowing toward brass knuckles. Garrett came next, fists swinging. Seamus pulled bloody nose from Pete, freeing him. This is what Pete loved most. The high of a fight. The adrenaline pumping through his veins. The sickening feeling of flesh being pummelled under his bones, empowering him in some volatile way. His father always said Pete enjoyed fighting too much. Apparently he had an ‘anger problem’. They’d laugh about it, because every man in their family knew they were all the same. His father was just as likely to start slamming his fist into another’s face as Pete, Trent or Garrett were. That’s what it was to be a McKay. You didn’t take shit from anyone, and you especially didn’t let one of your own get beaten up without stepping in to help.
Pete took a moment to refocus before joining in the fray. Somehow Garrett had gotten hold of the brass knuckles, and was giving the former owner his due. If he didn’t stop, the guy wouldn’t be walking away from this. Pete grabbed his brother pulling him back.
“Enough,” he gritted. “Enough!” he called louder to the others. The three men scampered away, their movements stiff. He looked around at his boys proudly. “Good of you to make it.”
“Should have known you couldn’t go five minutes without getting into trouble,” Trent said, spitting out a mouthful of blood on the sidewalk.
“I wouldn’t want to disappoint you,” Pete said cheekily.
“Any idea who those wankers were?” Seamus asked.
“Apparently the General sent them.”
“You’re shitting me,” Trent said in disbelief.
“I wish I was,” Pete replied, running a hand down his face. He walked over to the curb and sat down. This was not going to fly. The General might be running things, but everyone knew Pete pulled more than his weight when it came to the rebellion. The guys looked up to him and respected him. The General hardly had direct contact with anyone outside of the council and main inner circle. He had always been a bit of a snob. It was Pete who got the boys ramped up and kept them organized. The fact that Douglas Hatcher had the nerve to send three morons out to try and rough Pete up would have been laughable if it weren’t such a bloody piss off.
“We should go see Michael,” Trent said. Pete nodded. He knew that was the most reasonable thing to do at this point, but the dark place inside him that loved a good fight was just itching to go find the General and show him why no one messes with a McKay.
“I know what you’re thinking, Pete,” Trent said, standing in front of him. “I want to go beat that asshole myself, but he’s the General. There are consequences that we don’t want to deal with. Michael will know what to do. He’s the closest with the General. He’ll know how to handle this.”
“Yeah,” Garrett laughed. “If he doesn’t beat the General himself first.”
“Trent’s right,” Seamus agreed. “We can’t retaliate, McKay. We need to do the smart thing for once. Not that I’m not all for a good fight, but even I can see how stupid this would be. And that’s saying something.”<
br />
Pete looked up at his family and nodded. “I know you’re right. But I swear to God, that arse better watch it. That’s twice now he’s pissed me off. I don’t give people very many chances before I bloody well show them what I’m capable of.”
“Yeah, yeah, we all know how big and bad you are, McKay,” Seamus laughed, reaching out a hand to help him out. “Keep the ego in check for a while longer though, yeah? Let’s go see good ol’ Mickey.”
“What in the name of Mary happened to you lot?”
Pete looked into the lined face of the one person who could instantly put him at ease. Michael stepped back, letting them all file into the small front room of his cottage. The fire was blazing like always, lending a scent of burning lumber to the room. Pete loved that smell. A kettle was whistling from the kitchen, and an open book lay on its face on his chair where Michael must have been sitting. Nothing ever changed here. That was probably why he loved it so much. The whole world did nothing but change constantly. The only thing you could do was try and keep up, adapting to whatever shit the universe decided to throw at you. But here, in this tiny cottage outside the city, time seemed to stand still. Nothing outside that door could touch it.
“We ran into a little of trouble,” Pete said.
“More like the trouble ran into us,” Seamus corrected, sitting down on the sofa beside the fire. Trent disappeared into the kitchen to make the tea.
Michael snorted. “Ran into you, my arse. What have you done now?”
“Geez, Mickey,” Seamus said, affronted. “Where’s the faith?”
“In the Lord above, boy,” Michael replied. “Not in a group of hooligans like yourselves.”
“May I remind you, da,” Garrett spoke for the first time since they arrived, “that you’re the one who raised us.”
“Ack, not that one,” he nodded at Seamus.
“Pretty much,” Pete said, tired. He sank into one of the large chairs, stretching out his legs. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but sleep was sounding real good right about now. Coming down off the adrenaline high of a fight always wore him right out.
“Michael,” Trent called from the kitchen doorway, “where’s your sugar?”
“Top cupboard over the stove, on your left,” he answered, moving his book to take a seat. “And would it kill you to call me dad?”
“Nope,” Trent called back. Pete couldn’t remember the last time his older brother had called their da anything but his first name. He wasn’t sure if it was just Trent’s way of asserting that he was older and more mature, but by now Pete was used to it. He’d even gotten around to calling him the same, although now and again he’d actually call him da.
“Are you going to tell me what happened here?”
“The General sent three guys to…have some words with me,” Pete explained, staring up at the ceiling.
“The General?” his father sputtered. “Impossible.”
Something landed on Pete’s stomach. He looked down at the package of frozen vegetables Trent had just plopped down. “It’s all he has,” he said to Pete before turning to answer their father. “And it’s definitely possible considering we just had to save his ass from looking even worse than he does now.”
“Oh he’ll still look worse than he does now,” Garrett said. “Wait until the morning.” He smirked. Pete sighed, placing the frozen bag gingerly over his left eye.
“Why?” Michael asked, confused. “You’re his second.”
“Roman Adamson and Weapon X arrived at our meeting last night,” Pete told him.
“I know, I heard.” Of course he did, thought Pete. His father always knew things faster than anyone else he knew. His father was taking more of a backseat approach to the rebellion, only offering his advice now and again. For the most part he stayed out of any of the major action. After their mother ran off it was rare to even see him out of the house.
“Well, Weapon X brought me into the washroom to have a private chat, and I neglected to tell him about it. Seems he didn’t appreciate that.”
He looked over with his one good eye to find his father watching him closely. He wasn’t judging Pete at all, he’d never do that, but he was trying to figure out what he was missing. His father was quick. Probably the smartest guy Pete knew. If anyone were to see that there was something Pete wasn’t saying, it would be his da. But Pete also knew there was no way he would say anything, at least not in front of the others. At some point when they were alone, Pete was sure his da would get it out of him. They stared at each other for a moment before his father sat back a bit. Pete could see that he had decided there was definitely more, but Pete wouldn’t be elaborating.
“Why didn’t you tell him?” was all he asked.
Pete shrugged, looking back up at the ceiling. God he was exhausted. “Honestly, I just forgot,” he admitted, only half lying. He did in fact forget about it during his meeting with Douglas, considering he was more pissed at being left out of the loop. But there was also the fact that he didn’t want anyone finding out Weapon X was Dinah. Why? He really didn’t know. Whenever he tried to really dissect it, he stopped himself, unable to face whatever truth was there. It was probably the same thing that had made him ask her out tomorrow night.
“I’ll have a talk with him,” Michael said, with a note of finality. That was his way of saying none of them were to retaliate. The senior McKay had taken over, and that meant they were to step back.
“He’s insulted me twice, this week alone,” Pete argued.
“I’ll talk to him,” he repeated. “For now, you boys stay here and rest for the night. No point in you travelling back into the city at this hour. I can see how exhausted you are.” A loud snore filled the air as if on cue. Pete looked over to see Seamus passed out cold, his head resting on the back of the sofa in a way that Pete knew he’d be sore in the morning. “Need I say more?” his father chuckled.
Michael got up and headed back to his bedroom in the rear of the house. He told them where to find blankets, as if they didn’t already know, and disappeared for the night. Pete didn’t move from the chair, too tired to do even that. He closed his eyes and when he opened them next the sun was already bright in the blue sky.
Sitting up, he stretched out the kinks in his back while taking in the scene before him. Seamus was curled into a ball on the sofa; Garrett sprawled on the coffee table, with only a pillow cushioning his head, and Trent nowhere to be seen. He yawned loudly before kicking a leg of the coffee table. His brother shot upright, muttering something unintelligible.
“Rise and shine, boys,” Pete called out.
Seamus mumbled, sitting up slowly. “My neck is killing me,” he moaned.
“Michael’s gone,” Trent announced, walking out of the kitchen.
“Figures,” Pete said.
“I don’t know how Mickey does it,” Seamus said with a shake of his head. “He gets up earlier than any other human being I know.”
“He also doesn’t drink a barrel’s worth of Guinness every night,” Trent pointed out.
“Touché,” Seamus nodded.
“He probably wanted to get a jump start on the General before any of us got a hold of him,” Garrett said.
“Yeah, well we got other important things to do today anyway,” Pete replied, standing up. “Target practice today, mates. Let’s head out.”
They all moaned and groaned as they headed to the front door. “You ready for tonight?” Garrett asked as they stepped out into the clear morning. There was nothing better than a sunny day in these parts. Pete soaked it in, letting the warm rays hit the back of his closed eyelids.
He thought about his brother’s question, knowing what he meant, but thinking about a petite blue eyed girl instead. He still couldn’t decide what made him invite her, letting her see another side to his life, but he’d done it anyway. Maybe he should just not show up at their meeting place. It would definitely be the smart thing to do. Whatever they were doing was stupid. It’s not like it could go anywhere,
even if they were just friends. Enemies could not be friends. It was just the way the world worked.
Who was he kidding? He’d meet her there for the same reason he had invited her in the first place. It didn’t matter how many times he told himself it was stupid, he couldn’t fight the desire to see her again. Was he ready? He didn’t really know.
“Of course I’m ready,” he answered, focusing on his brother’s meaning rather than the multitude of thoughts running through his head.
“Of course he is,” Seamus reinforced. “He’s a Jack of all trades, my Pete!” He swung his arm around Pete’s shoulders giving him a brotherly squeeze.
“Alright,” Pete said, brushing him off. “Let’s go test out our new stock and see if any of you can hit your targets better than me.”
“You’re on,” Trent smiled.
Chapter Ten
She was bored. For the first time since she’d joined Ludwig here in New Berlin, Dinah actually found herself wishing she were somewhere else. Normally she enjoyed watching him deal with all the idiots he seemed to surround himself with – herself and Roman excluded, of course. But today her mind drifted more than once. It had nothing to do with the fact that she was anxious for night to come, she assured herself. Certainly not because she was going to see McKay again.
The men started to pack up their things, snapping her attention back. The food production managers from Rome had flown in that morning to go over the latest information on crops. Food had become increasingly difficult due to the drastic change in the earth’s atmosphere. Surprise, surprise, nuclear bombs had that effect. Go figure. Because of that, they had to grow most of the produce inside strictly monitored facilities where the climates were designed to replicate ideal conditions for the crops. They might have found a way around their problem, but the newest issue was that they couldn’t produce nearly enough this way as they could back when farmers were growing food in their own fields. Here in New Berlin, everything was still readily available. She knew the same couldn’t be said for some of the smaller cities.
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