Hands stuffed into his pockets, the big guy glanced from side to side as though he were fighting the voice of some inner demon.
“Ya’ll go and blink your eyes for a second in this loony bin and everything goes to rat shit, don’t it?” Lou offered with a half smile.
Nikki remained stone faced.
“I think enough folks have been hurt or killed already, Nikki. I’m sure we can agree on that.”
“I think so, too.”
“Not interested in adding to that list. That’s why I’m here. I ain’t got nothing against your brother other than he shot my son. Lucky for him he didn’t finish what he started.”
Nikki felt the tension in her belly settle ever so slightly. “How’s Ethan?”
“Doing much better. Though I can’t say the same for some of the others who got hit during the raid. Like that fella Russell who helped your ma escape. Got clipped with two shots from a .22. See, that’s part of the reason I’m here. This place ain’t big enough for two people to keep on being mad at one another. I don’t forgive so easily. Got stubbornness in my blood. Ma used to say that I could argue with a fence post and win.” Lou’s belly rattled with laughter, and Nikki couldn’t help but join him. Even the corners of Aiden’s mouth rose.
“We’re all on the same side now,” Lou said and held a hand out to Aiden, who reluctantly took it. The two of them shook, and Nikki couldn’t help thinking about the image on the palm of her brother’s hand and the memory of a man she’d never seen before. A man who in all likelihood was probably dead.
Larry
First thing early the next morning, Larry and his security detail went to the guard tower that overlooked the main gate. It was chilly, and he breathed hot air into his cupped hands. Two of the now-paramilitary cult members were busy threading a rope through the guard post’s timber frame, the end tied into a noose. Below that was a chair.
“Ring the bell,” Larry yelled. “Wakey-wakey.”
Donavan walked up the dirt road ringing the bell normally used to summon colonists to lunch and dinner. What better way to get people to come running than with the promise of food?
Slowly, puffy-eyed colonists and cultists started to emerge. It was well before breakfast, of course, but there was something Larry wanted them to see. Something that couldn’t wait.
Soon, a crowd of well over 150 was standing before him in dreaded silence, all of them studying the noose as it swung back and forth in the soft breeze. Charlie, the guard who left his post outside Larry’s office, was led out from the compound basement by two guards, his face bruised and swollen. Shortly after that came Timothy. He, too, had been beaten. Larry knew because he’d administered many of the licks himself. There’d been a rather unexpected satisfaction last night when he’d wrapped his hands around Timothy’s neck and began to squeeze, watching as the life slowly drained from his body. Thankfully, Donavan had been there to talk some sense into him.
“If you kill him now, it’ll ruin the spectacle tomorrow,” Donavan had said. And how right he was.
Here they were now, Larry standing before the crowd, who could surely tell what was about to happen. Charlie was brought before them and forced to kneel down. Larry addressed those who had gathered.
“Charlie Smith, you are charged with one count of dereliction of duty and one count of high treason. How plead you?”
“Not guilty,” came the shaky reply, although his lips were so swollen it was hard to be sure.
“This court finds you guilty as charged.” Larry nodded at Donavan, who raised his pistol and fired point blank into the young man’s skull. Charlie’s legs buckled, and he collapsed, blood pooling around his body.
The crowd gasped.
Larry watched Charlie’s right leg twitch and ordered Donavan to shoot him again. Catching sight of Dana in the audience, Larry could see she was upset, and the reason for her anger was perfectly clear. She’d asked for a trial and here he was, doing just like she said. If she dared open her mouth in protest before of all these people, her father would be next. That’s how serious Larry was. He turned to Timothy.
“Timothy Wallace you are – ”
“Just hurry up and get this mockery of a trial over with, would you?” Timothy shouted, his hands tied behind his back.
Larry looked at Donavan, who stood Timothy on the chair and placed the noose around his neck.
“Everything I did was for Rainbowland,” Timothy shouted. “Can you say the same, Larry?”
Donavan kicked the chair, but it hardly budged. He shoved his heel against the edge twice more before it finally fell over. The rope went tight, and Timothy’s face turned beet-red. The fall hadn’t broken his neck as they thought it would. Perhaps the drop hadn’t been far enough. Timothy’s legs were kicking wildly, and a woman up front screamed before collapsing to the ground. It took nearly five minutes for Timothy to die, and by the time he did, his face was nearly unrecognizable.
Timothy’s body swung back and forth, the rope creaking as Larry addressed the audience. “Make no mistake about it, things are about to change around here,” he told them. “You break my laws, and this is what you’ll get. Hanging from the end of a rope, or worse. Larry pointed to the former cult members dressed in army fatigues and carrying rifles. “We have the right to stop and search your possessions at any time. I’ve also instituted a 9 o’clock nightly curfew. Any colonist suspected of treason or terrorism will be detained. Any colonist found guilty will be put to death.”
The murmurs from the crowd told Larry they’d got the message loud and clear. But just in case they forgot, he had one more reminder in store for them.
“Cut him down,” Larry said, nodding to Timothy’s corpse. “And hang his body from the bridge. I want anyone coming or going from New Jamestown to see what happens to traitors.”
•••
Less than an hour later, Donavan entered the compound basement, which had become Larry’s new office and stronghold. Larry was looking over inventory lists for the food they’d captured.
“What is it?” he barked.
Donavan stepped forward. “A report just came in from the spies you posted in the city.”
Larry stopped what he was doing and looked up. “Talk to me.”
“At least 2-300 Wipers have arrived at the hotel.”
“Two to 300?”
Donavan swallowed hard. “Seems that way.”
“Where the hell’d they go? The beach?”
“We don’t know.” Finn has suggested a large army of Wipers attacked Ely State Prison.”
“Have you questioned Alvarez yet?”
“No, you said no one was to go near him until you gave the green light.”
Larry nodded, tapping his leg. “A handful of stragglers, that’s what I expected. Not 2-300. First things first, we need to find out what those Wipers wanted at the prison.” He was pacing now, talking to himself. “Jesus, when they don’t find Alvarez’ body, they’re gonna know he’s still alive, and you know what they’re gonna do.”
“What?”
“They’re gonna fucking come looking for him, whaddya think!”
Donavan bit his lip. “What do you suggest?”
“He’s our insurance policy just like we planned, but we need a letter, written in his hand that tells these sonsabitches, if they dare attack, that their beloved leader is dead. We also need a carrot to go along with that stick. Say, a promise that after 90 days we’ll let him go free.”
“Release Alvarez?”
“‘Course not, but it’ll give us some breathing room till we get things inside New Jamestown back under control.”
Donavan left quickly, and for a long time afterward, Larry continued to pace the floor of his new basement office.
That sonbitch Alvarez better cooperate. If he knows what’s good for him.
Finn
Before today, no one had ever been executed in New Jamestown – or Rainbowland for that matter – and the shock of what many of them had just witn
essed was still raw. After Larry dismissed the crowd, several had wandered aimlessly, like the victims from a multi-car pileup, staggering through open fields.
Outside the police trailer, Dana stood hugging her father. Finn knew the stress that she’d been under trying to prove he wasn’t guilty. It didn’t matter he’d been stuck in Nevada and hadn’t seen it firsthand. The minute Finn rolled back into town, the deep lines below her eyes had said it all. But he was free and safe, at least for now.
“You seem different,” Joanne said, walking beside him. They were heading back to Tent City, to see if they could help tend to the wounded. Maybe give Lou a chance to leave his son’s bedside and stretch his legs.
“It’s hard to watch a man killed before your eyes, no matter what he’s done.”
She kicked at the gravel. “That’s not what I meant. You’ve been acting strange since yesterday, Finn. Distant. Is something the matter?”
Yeah, I’m trying to figure out if you were programmed to kill me.
‘Course, he couldn’t come right out and say such a thing. They were supposed to be married, a recent discovery, which in a strange way had been confirmed the moment he saw her. Doesn’t matter what your mind forgets, it’s all in the eyes, and you only need to look deeply enough to see if the connection goes back further than the last five minutes.
“Any new memories from before?” he asked, trying to skirt lightly around the real question on his mind.
“You mean before The Shift?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought we’d been over this already,” Joanne told him. “All I remember is the same thing as the others. The meadow with the tall grass.”
“The background image to Tevatron’s internal computer system.”
“If you say so.” She smiled, but Finn didn’t smile back.
“There was a case,” he started saying before he could stop himself. “With explosives and a DVD designed to blackmail you into killing me and destroying whatever was left of the Nevada lab.”
“Pardon me?” She stopped and he stopped, too.
“Dana found it. Only told me about it yesterday.”
“So, you’ve been going around thinking I might be trying to kill you? Is that it?”
“No,” he said drawing the word out.
“Why didn’t you say anything before?”
“I didn’t know where to start. Oh, by the way ... ”
“Yeah, it’s called being honest.”
“Well, I don’t believe it.”
“Are you sure?”
Finn put his hands around her waist. “I know you couldn’t live without me, even before I knew we were married.”
She laughed and hit his chest. “Speak for yourself. Before you woke up from that coma, I was doing just fine.” She started walking away.
“What do you mean, just fine?” he said, coming after her.
“Jealous much? You’re not the only eligible bachelor in New Jamestown.” She was swinging her backside now with mock sexiness.
Finn let out a bellow of laughter as he followed her to the medical tent, which was busy with visitors. Near the entrance was a woman he vaguely knew as Holly and her daughter, Tamara. They were holding the hand of a man named Russell, who’d been wounded during the attack on Alvarez’ stronghold.
Ethan was at the other end. Finn and Joanne had expected to come relieve Lou for a few minutes, but that wasn’t who they found by the boy’s bed. It was Nikki and Aiden.
“If you only knew how much time we spent looking for you,” Finn told Aiden. The kids got up at once, and Nikki threw her arms around him. Finn shook Aiden’s hand.
“I’m so sorry about your mother,” he told them.
Nikki and Aiden nodded without saying a word. What was one supposed to say to such a thing? A perfect example of how inadequate words were when stacked next to a human life.
“We were just visiting with Ethan,” Nikki said. “He’s asleep, but Lou say’s he should be on his feet any time now.”
Finn could sense there was something else she wanted to say. “Anything you wanna tell me, you can say in front of Joanne.”
Nikki nodded before looking over at Aiden. “Show him.”
Aiden glanced up at her and lifted his shirt. Drawn in black marker was the same wheel he’d sketched on his arms and hands.
“What are we looking at?” Joanne asked.
“Something very special,” Nikki told them. “Maybe more special than ever before.”
Finn folded his arms. “I don’t understand.”
“The first time I noticed was purely by accident,” Nikki said. “I’d touched Aiden’s shoulder and saw a flash of memory. Took a second before I realized it wasn’t his.”
Finn shook his head, trying to clear away the cobwebs. “Not his? Who’d it belong to?”
“Someone else.”
“What are you saying, Nikki?” Joanne asked pointedly. “That Aiden has another person’s memories buried in his mind?”
“Not someone’s,” she replied. “Everyone’s.”
Larry
Larry was in his new basement office, reading a letter, when Donavan came in.
“Alvarez isn’t talking,” his second in command told him.
He crumpled the paper in his hands. Another anonymous colonist was complaining to Larry that Timothy was executed without the benefit of a trial or community vote. If they didn’t have the balls to say it to his goddamned face, then they should keep their mouths shut. That’s what Larry thought. “Have you tried to persuade him?”
Donavan nodded that he had. “We’ve got his hands cuffed behind his back and his feet tied to the chair. Each of us even took turns smacking him around. All he did was laugh. Told us he would write anything we wanted, but not before talking to you.”
“Me?”
“Says he wants to talk to our leader. Get some assurances.”
“Did he say anything about why his men attacked the prison?” But before he replied, Larry could already tell Donvavan’s answer was going to disappoint him.
“He wants you, Boss.”
•••
It took all of five minutes for Larry to make his way from the compound basement to the trailer that was acting as Alvarez’ prison cell. It was the same one where they’d kept Bud and later, Dana’s father, Richard, but Al wasn’t the sort of guy you let mix with impressionable minds. From everything Larry had heard, this prick made Hannibal Lecter look like Mr. Rogers. That was one of the reasons for all the restraints. But even the strongest-willed men only took so much. Sooner or later, they all cracked.
The trailer was hushed when Larry arrived, Donavan in tow. As expected, Alvarez was handcuffed and lashed to a chair. He couldn’t reach out and take a swing or try kicking you in the nuts even if he tried. That worked just fine for Larry. And when all was said and done, wasn’t that the true joy of torturing another fellow human being? The helplessness, the agonizing pain, and before long, the shouts for mercy?
Larry watched Alvarez’ swollen eyes trace his movement into the trailer and across to a table where a variety of instruments sat waiting.
“You asked for me,” Larry said without looking at Alvarez. He ran his hand over a row of scalpels, feeling goose bumps run up his arms from the cold steel. “Should we get started?”
“I wouldn’t have asked for the boss if I weren’t ready.”
Larry’s hand passed over several more lethal choices before settling on the pliers. People had an uncanny attachment to their teeth and fingernails. It was little wonder, then, how quickly they began to cooperate after a few were wrenched out. The trick was to inflict enough damage to get them singing the tune you were hoping to hear, without killing them in the process. Especially for Alvarez. But he looked like a strong, young Mexican-American. The kind that could take boatloads of punishment.
“So, Donavan here tells me you’re looking for certain assurances,” Larry said.
Alvarez nodded. “My men have probably al
ready figured out where I am.”
“I’m sure they have.”
“You kill me, and these little toothpicks you call walls won’t do a damned thing to save you.”
There was a change in Larry’s face when Al referred to his walls as toothpicks. A look very much like a man who’d been kicked in the nuts by a baby’s shoe. The palisade was Larry’s baby, and probably the very thing that had kept them from being overrun long ago. He wasn’t going to let this gangbanging Spic take pot shots at his accomplishments.
In three strides, Larry was right there beside Alvarez, the right arm with the pliers coming down on his already bruised cheekbone. The strike made a clanking sound and opened up a deep gash under Al’s left eye. Blood began running down from the cut Larry had just opened. “I’m sorry,” Larry said. “You were saying something?”
Alvarez winced from the pain, trying to blink it away.
“You can’t kill me, Larry, and you know it, so why don’t you put the toys away and act like a man?”
Larry jammed the pliers into Alvarez’ mouth, fishing around until he felt a molar clamped by the serrated jaws. His other hand was pushing against Al’s face as he twisted and then wrenched the tooth free. A gout of blood filled Al’s mouth, dribbling over his lip and down his chin. The Spic wasn’t smiling, not anymore.
But it was clear the burst of dull pain was excruciating and it was only gonna get worse, that’s the message Larry wanted to drive home.
“I’m not sure what you thought, but this isn’t a negotiation,” Larry told him. “You’re gonna write a letter telling your slave trader friends you’re all right. Then you’re gonna sign it ... they can read, I’m assuming?”
Alvarez spat blood on the floor next to him. “Jeffereys and his men can read just fine.”
“Jeffereys,” Larry said. “The same man who pulled a gun and waved it in my face?”
Alvarez smiled. “Yes, he said you shat your pants and couldn’t wait to sell out that old bag, All Father.”
Larry’s face turned a deep shade of red. He glanced behind him toward the others present. All of them were staring at him now, but the only face he saw right then was Simon’s – All Father’s only son – and the expression on his young face was hard to read. It looked like he was trying to process two competing realities. The one where Larry was a good guy who saved them from certain death and another where he more closely resembled a weasel and a scumbag.
Primal Shift: Volume 2 (A Post Apocalyptic Thriller) Page 24