Autumn (Four Seasons Book 1)

by Robert Sullivan

  “Let me explain. It all started a couple of weeks ago after the attack in New York City. This new group showed up online calling itself ‘The Conspiracy’. They were advocating for people to join the fight against this group called the Black Hand. Apparently they were the ones that did the attack in New York. Anyway, a bunch of copycat groups sprung up from this initial group, including in Kansas City. I joined last week,” Georgia explained.

  “Is that why you were acting like such a bitch just now?” Anne asked.

  “I’m working to protect this family from the gangs. If you two were only going to make things worse, it would’ve been a lot worse for you,” Georgia said coldly.

  “Well it’s not like we went into gangland Kansas City and demanded they fight over us!” Anne protested. “We didn’t even know we were in danger until the fighting started.”

  “Where the hell did you come from exactly?” Georgia asked skeptically. “It couldn’t have been from anywhere near here, because you would’ve known better to go within five miles of there.”

  “We ran away from Topeka,” Rebecca explained. “We didn’t know that the gangs were such a problem here.”

  “Do you know now?” Georgia said sarcastically.

  “Obviously,” Anne said, rolling her eyes.

  “Good,” Georgia said, getting up. “Because if you still feel bad for what you caused, then I have a better way you can help.”

  “What, with this Conspiracy thing?” Anne asked rudely.

  “If you want. Or you could continue to screw around trying to get donations that won’t come,” Georgia said, walking out of the room. “You know where to find me,” she added as she went down the stairs.

  Anne and Rebecca looked at each other. Anne was clearly annoyed, but Rebecca was conflicted. “What do you want to do?” Rebecca asked.

  Rebecca knew that she was frustrated by the lack of progress with Ed’s idea of making peace. She also knew, however, that Georgia’s aggressive behavior was more likely to anger Anne than it was to make her want to help the Conspiracy. Anne got up and went out on the balcony to think while Rebecca started at her from behind.

  “I know you don’t like violence,” Anne said from the balcony after a long while.

  Rebecca looked down. It was true, she had always been a gentle soul. Joining in this Conspiracy would probably end in violence, which seemed to be the only solution to the gang problem at this point.

  “I’m sure they would have something for you to do that didn’t involve shooting if you wanted,” Anne added.

  Rebecca understood in that moment that Anne had decided to join the fight. All she was doing now was to convince Rebecca to come along. Even though Anne had made up her mind already, Rebecca was still too conflicted to make up her mind.

  Anne turned around as she heard Rebecca stand up. “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “I need somewhere quiet to think,” Rebecca replied simply, leaving the room.

  Despite being a runaway, Rebecca had never given up her driver's license. The only reason she and Anne had walked away from Topeka was that they were sure the authorities would come after them if they had stolen a vehicle. This would have been especially true in the capital city after the National Guard had moved in. It had been bad enough they were runaways; they did not need to give the authorities extra cause to come after them.

  As such, Ed and Kathleen had given them permission to use the “teenager's car” as they pleased, provided that they shared it with Georgia. Since no one else was going to use it, Rebecca took it herself. She had no idea where to go; she was just driving to clear her mind and give herself time to think about the decision before her.

  Rebecca's driving took her aimlessly through the mostly rural areas south of Kansas City proper. Despite the increasing length of the drive, she still could not come to a decision. After a long while, she suddenly saw a church and decided abruptly that it might be a good, quiet place for her to think. She pulled off at the church, which was a small building made out of brick. Rebecca noted that it was called Queen of the Holy Rosary as she went inside.

  As she had hoped, it was quiet in there. No one was present in the church at this time. Rebecca went into the main body of the building and sat down in one of the pews. There was no sound, other than the sound of her breathing. She sat there for a long while, still unable to come to a decision.

  Rebecca was startled when there was a noise at the front of the church. A tall man in a cassock walked in and bowed towards a box at the front of the church before moving towards the main altar. He glanced behind him and was visibly surprised to see Rebecca sitting there. He did not, however, shy away from speaking to her. The priest strode over to her and said, “Welcome. My name is Father Brown. What is your name?”

  “I'm Rebecca,” she said quietly.

  “Well, Rebecca, welcome to the Queen of the Holy Rosary,” Father Brown said. “May I sit?”

  Rebecca nodded and moved over to make room for him. He sat down and asked, “What can I help you with today, Rebecca?”

  Rebecca stared off at the front of the church in silence, trying to choose her words carefully. “I've got a choice to make and I have no idea how to make it.”

  “Okay,” Father Brown said slowly. “Just talk it out.”

  “I've been trying to get people to donate money and supplies to people who were displaced by the gang violence up north. But it hasn't been working. Now it turns out someone I know is part of an underground resistance to these gangs that's just started up. She wants me to join in and I don't know what to do.”

  “Why are you conflicted?” the priest asked.

  “I don't like violence. I never did,” Rebecca explained. “This is going to be a war. A long war too.”

  Father Brown looked thoughtful as he said, “There is always a solution besides violence. I don't know anything about this resistance, but I am sure there are ways within this organization which will let you practice non-violence while still helping the community. Maybe you could merge your donation drive with this resistance.”

  Rebecca looked hopeful; she had not thought of that. “I think I could do that.”

  Father Brown got up. “I've prayed for an end to violence for as long as I can remember. It's been frustrating at times, because violence has continued and still gets worse with each passing day. But this is what happens when people are left to their own devices and refuse guidance from a higher power. I've realized that it's not God who is allowing violence to occur, but the result of people rejecting God that causes violence. We are a fickle people; we are prone to self-destruction without a guiding hand. The Lord offers a helping hand, but it is up to people to accept that help.”

  Rebecca looked up at the front of the church. It was simply adorned with a large crucifix that hung behind the altar. “Thank you, Father Brown,” she said finally. “You've given me a lot to think about.”

  “Of course, Rebecca,” he said warmly. “Feel free to stop by anytime you feel the need.”

  Rebecca nodded simply as Father Brown went to prepare the church for the evening daily mass. She remained in the pew for a few more minutes before getting up and leaving.

  It took some time for Rebecca to get back to the house, as she had not kept track of where she had been going when she left. Eventually she got home and went back up to her tower. To her surprise, Georgia was in there with Rebecca, poring over the same map.

  “Where have you been all this time?” Anne asked.

  “I've been thinking about what I wanted to do. And got some advice,” Rebecca said simply.

  “And?” Anne added.

  “I'm in. But with some conditions,” Rebecca replied simply.

  Georgia leaned back and said, “Okay, shoot.”

  “I don't want to be involved in any actual fighting,” Rebecca began to explain. “I want to be able to do some good other than firing a gun.”

  “And how do you plan to do that?” Georgia asked.

 
“I want to do charitable work still, but within this Conspiracy.” Rebecca said.

  “We aren't the Conspiracy,” Georgia said dismissively. “That's only in New York. But I don't see what value having you run a charity, which would divert resources away from our ability to fight.”

  “I would run it separately from your fighting,” Rebecca added quickly. “But think of how good it would be for recruitment if you had people like me who don't want to fight, but still want to help people end the gang violence. This would give us an option to help you.”

  “So, what you are saying is, we'd take care of the root of the problem, but you would take care of the harm it causes?” Georgia asked thoughtfully.

  “Yes. That way both the gangs and the refugee crisis gets solved at once,” Rebecca said brightly.

  “I think that could work, but it isn't up to me,” Georgia said. “I don't run the resistance here, so you'd have to bring it up with Peter when we go visit him this evening.”

  Anne turned to Georgia and said, “Who's Peter?”

  “The leader of our fight,” Georgia explained. “He'll decide if there is any merit to your charity. But you are going to have to dress it up nicely; Peter doesn't have much patience for anything other than ending the gangs violently. He lost his family to a gang attack before you two got to Kansas City.”

  Rebecca raised her eyebrows. She had not anticipated needing to convince someone who had been so personally hurt by the gangs that their attention should go somewhere else. This would prove tougher than she originally thought.

  The evening came and sooner than Rebecca cared, the three girls were heading north into the heart of Kansas City. Though Georgia had been loathe to tell them the exact location, Rebecca could tell they were headed towards the center of the city. After a long trip, they stopped at a warehouse along the banks of the Missouri River.

  The three girls got out of the car and went towards a sizable warehouse that had a dock that went right onto the river. Rebecca surmised that it was to allow for escape if necessary, but did not have time to ask Georgia about it. Georgia had gone slightly ahead of them and approached a pair of bouncers guarding the door.

  Georgia whispered something to the guards, who nodded and waved the three girls in. Rebecca followed Anne and Georgia in and quickly adjusted to the low light in the building. Once she was able to see what was going on, Rebecca noticed that the warehouse was crowded with all kinds of people, who at the moment were just milling about and talking. Apparently this resistance had gained a fair amount of popularity for something that had only reached Kansas City in the last week.

  The crowd did not pay them much mind as they walked through it. Some of them nodded in acknowledgement of Georgia, but Rebecca herself did not draw many second glances. Rebecca barely had time to look at everyone before Georgia suddenly said, “Rebecca, Anne, this is Peter. He’s the leader of this resistance I was telling you about.”

  Peter, a large, college-aged man who struck Rebecca as a brawler, turned at the mention of his name. He noticed that it was Georgia who addressed him and said, “It’s good to finally meet you in person, Georgia. Talking over video feeds can only get you so far.”

  “Thanks,” Georgia said.

  “So, are you two up to the task of stopping gang violence?” Peter asked Anne and Rebecca.

  Anne responded with an emphatic, “Yes,” immediately. Rebecca knew that her answer would have to be more nuanced, so she chose her words more carefully.

  “I am, but I don’t want to be a part of any actual fighting,” she explained.

  Peter looked bemused, as he said, “What did you have in mind?”

  Rebecca explained in a rush, trying to say her piece before nerves got the better of her. “I think I would like to do more charitable work for the people who have been displaced by the gangs. I know there have been a lot since that huge fight last October.”

  Peter’s face darkened as he said, “I remember that. It was right after they had killed my family. Those fuckers tore up half of Wyandotte County.”

  Rebecca felt it to be wise not to mention she had unintentionally instigated the melee and continued speaking. “I was hoping to be a part of your organization because I think it would help me if I was attached to people who were trying to stop the gangs.”

  Peter looked impassive, but he said, “If you do this, you’d have to do it all yourself. We’re new at this, so money hasn’t been coming in yet. What little I have needs to go to the actual fighting.”

  “I can handle that,” Rebecca said determinedly.

  “Are you sure? You’d also have to do your own recruiting,” Peter added.

  “I know what I need to do,” Rebecca said with confidence. “I just want to be associated with you. It will help me a lot if I was attached to this resistance.”

  “We need to come up with a name,” Peter said, sighing and shaking his head. “But, fine, do what you want.”

  “Thank you,” Rebecca said.

  “Do you have any idea where you might start?” Peter asked.

  “I know some people who could lead me in the right direction,” Rebecca said, glancing at Anne and Georgia with a knowing look.

  Chapter Ten

  A Threat at Home

  In the weeks following the stunning attack on New York City by the Black Hand, the city was placed on virtual lockdown, with tedious security checkpoints set up at the bridges, tunnels, airports, and ferries, severely limiting access to the island. Though the economy of the city was already suffering from the global economic depression, it was pushed towards collapse from the stalling of commerce and tourism that usually flowed in and out of the city.

  This suited Jared’s purposes fine for the time being. The culture of fear that he had pervaded through the five boroughs was bringing the city to a standstill, which was causing it suffering. It may not be as noticeable as a bomb or a robbery, but it was still suffering that Jared had caused, albeit more indirectly this time. The city, in a sense, would keep for now.

  Jared had instead been building up his plans for expanding the Black Hand out of the city. It had taken weeks to get the organization developed for expansion because of the ongoing lockdown. It made it difficult to travel in and out of the city, which was necessary for establishing the Black Hand in other cities around the region. Another problem was that Jared had been planning on using funds generated by the sale of the gold on the black market to fund this expansion.

  The gold, however, had been left untouched since the day of the robbery. It was difficult to travel through the city, but it was impossible to do so while carrying around bricks of stolen gold. To be sure, there were interested buyers that hailed from all over the globe, from cash-strapped nations to local warlords looking to add to their prestige. For the time being, however, it could not be moved until the military loosened the noose that they had draped around the city.

  With the funding currently unavailable, the only thing Jared could do was set up a chain of command that would be filled once they were able to move out of New York City. It was based off of the structure that he had joined and helped build up in the city, though much more skeletal and distributed over larger areas. It was all theoretical at the moment; they could fill out an organization tree, but it would not take on a life of its own until the positions could be filled.

  On a cold, grey day late in February, Jared was finding himself taking a walk in the remains of Central Park. Nobody bothered him in there; there was nobody that was going to the park these days. The city had plans to try to restore the park, but it would not occur until Spring. In the meantime, Jared would have the park to himself to muse and to let his temper simmer. His frustration had been building up since the attack given he had not been able to do anything since then.

  As Jared rounded the pond in the south of the park within view of the Plaza Hotel, he saw a man sitting on a bench, staring aimlessly at the pond. He was going to avoid the man, but decided to walk nearby to him instead. Bef
ore Jared realized what he was really doing, he had sat down next to the man, who did not react to his presence initially.

  After some time had passed, the man said, “This park has seen better days.”

  Jared grunted indifferently. The man continued, “I’m sure it will grow back eventually. What brings you to the park? Not many people come here these days.”

  “I came to be alone,” Jared said.

  “And yet, you are here next to me,” the man said.

  Jared rolled his eyes. “I don’t get out much.”

  “Nobody does these days,” the man observed. “This city has shut down. It’s probably for the best.”

  “Why?” Jared asked.

  “Life moved too quickly before,” the man explained. “Now that things have slowed down, people have time to reflect, grow relationships, focus on what’s important.”

  “What is important to you?” Jared asked.

  The man sighed. “Peace. I’ve seen enough war in my lifetime, both here and overseas. I just want peace.”

  “Good luck with that,” Jared said dismissively.

  “It’s a hard dream to hope in, I’ll admit,” the man replied. “But I still have hope in it. Mainly because of the Conspiracy.”

  “The Conspiracy? The fuck is that?” Jared asked, bemused.

  “It’s this underground organization. It’s trying to take down the people behind the attack since the Fed won’t do anything,” the man said calmly.

  Jared laughed out loud. “They wouldn’t be able to do anything!” he crowed.

  “You’d be surprised,” the man said. “These people, they’re all over the city from what I’m told.”

  “Okay, whatever,” Jared said, getting up. “Let me know the next time you’ll be down here. I’d love to listen to yarn about hopeless causes that don’t exist.”

  “Oh, it’s very real,” the man called out as Jared walked away. “They’ve got groups popping up all over the city. They’re going to fight the Black Hand.”

  Jared did not stop walking so as to not raise the man’s suspicions, but his face was contorted in rage. To the best of his knowledge, the name Black Hand had not gone around the city, and yet here was this man spouting it off like it was common knowledge. The thought of trying to expand out of the city was temporarily driven out of his mind. There was trouble brewing in his domain.