by Kirby Howell
Murmurs shot through the crowd, and confusion hung as densely in the air as the acrid stench of burning gasoline.
Franklin raised his hand again, but Grey stepped in front of Sam, murmuring something I couldn’t hear. Franklin lowered his hand, but the ugly expression remained on his face.
“Get me a gun!” Franklin shouted.
The crowd collectively gasped as he spun around, frantically eyeing those nearest him. Sam scrambled back as far as she could, keeping Grey between herself and Franklin. No one moved.
“Well?! You heard me!” Franklin yelled again. “Someone get me a gun. Now!”
“You’re not going to shoot her,” Grey said, his voice even. Franklin waited a moment more, then pushed through the crowd to the base of the still-smoldering hotel. He grabbed a shovel lying against the cracked glass wall, and started back. Sam saw him coming and scampered backward in terror.
Before I realized what I was doing, I found myself in front of Franklin as he towered over Sam, his shovel raised in the air.
“Outta the way! She deserves to die, after what she did.” He gestured to the fire, but I knew he was talking about Vonna. The buzzing of the crowd picked up as people began to catch on.
“We aren’t killers!” I yelled. “Don’t you understand?!” I looked at Sam, who remained crumpled on the ground, trying to wipe her tears away with her tied hands.
“I understand it’s kill or be killed!” Franklin yelled back at me, his voice shaking with menace. “You think they’re gonna fight fair? We can’t win if we’re the only ones playing by the rules. You’re the one who doesn’t understand. This is war.”
I stood flummoxed for a moment, unsure of how to respond. I understood what he was saying, but it just felt wrong. “I may be just a kid to you, but...” I stammered. I felt the weight of all the eyes on me. I looked at Grey for support and found his crystal blue eyes blazing at me. He nodded slightly in encouragement, and a fresh wave of strength helped me find my words.
“If we start executing people,” I said firmly, “then we’re no better than The Front. We’re no better than Karl. If we kill her, if we don’t fight fair, then maybe we don’t deserve to win. Maybe I don’t know anything about war, but I know why I fight. I know what I stand for. And this isn’t it. Executing Sam in a fit of anger isn’t going to bring Vonna back.”
Franklin’s grip on the shovel slackened. He bowed his head and put his other hand to his forehead as if hiding his face. When he finally looked back up to me, there was a look of despair, anguish. The shovel slipped from his fingers and thudded to the ground.
“Get her out of my sight until we figure out what to do with her. If I see her again, I might kill her.”
Ben reached forward and pulled Sam up. She buried her head in his chest and cried, and I was surprised when Ben let her stay there for a moment.
“You did that well,” Grey said.
“Grey. I... I wanted to kill her, too, when I caught her,” I whispered, watching Ben and Sam. “I wanted to hurt her.”
“But you didn’t. That’s what makes you different.” And then his words were so quiet, it was almost as if he merely breathed the words, “I love you, Fòmhair.”
I let his words linger on the air for a moment, trying to hold on to them.
“Was anyone hurt in the fire?” I finally asked.
“Just a couple with minor burns. They’ve been taken to the clinic.”
I closed my eyes and swallowed deeply. “If only I’d found Sam sooner, I might have been able to stop her,” I whispered, staring at the fire consuming the Egyptian. “How long before the fire will go out?”
“Hours. Maybe even a day,” he said, turning to look at it. The orange color against the soft blue sky was almost beautiful.
“What are we going to do with her?” I asked.
“Well, before The Plague, she would have been given a fair trial.”
“She was caught red-handed and pretty much confessed everything to me. If they try her, she’s going to be found guilty.” The last thing I wanted was for a trial to delay us getting back to Hoover, but then a worse thought entered my head. “If she’s found guilty, Franklin wouldn’t actually have her executed. Would he?”
“My guess would be yes.”
“He’ll calm down, though, right?”
“I don’t know,” Grey said, quietly. “Would your compassion come back if Sam had caused Rissi’s death?”
Point taken, I thought. So much death. I’d seen enough of it to last lifetimes, and I’d only just reached my eighteenth birthday.
Daniel appeared beside me. “We’re going to put Sam in a guarded room at the Palmetto until we can figure out what to do with her,” he said as Ben walked Sam past us.
She pulled away from Ben suddenly, sobbing and moved toward me. I thought she might be trying to hug me, but Ben clamped a hand on her skinny arm, stopping her.
Stung, Sam said, “I was just going to thank her. I wasn’t going to hurt her.”
Ben didn’t remove his hand. He nodded toward me. “Get on with it then.”
She turned to me, “Thank you, Autumn. You saved my life.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” I said, holding my head high.
She sniffed and wiped her wet nose with the back of her wrist. “You probably won’t believe me, but I really did find Snicket for you.”
Ben redirected Sam away from me before she could say more. The pain in his eyes was palpable. I knew he was in agony. A day ago, Ben used pet names for her. Now, he was marching her off to be put on death row.
“You chased her all the way to the Ponte di Rialto?” Grey said, looking after them.
“How did you know that?” I asked.
He pointed to the wooden sign dangling from the rope that bound Sam’s wrists. There were two gondolas on either side of the words “GRAND CANAL CAFÉ CLOSED.”
I shrugged.
“That’s almost two miles from here. You ran all that way after her?”
I leaned against him, not realizing I’d gone so far. “I rode Snicket. Sam found her yesterday when they were all out looking. Though it was probably to her detriment, because if I’d ridden any other horse, I might not have caught her.” I grimaced, remembering the chase. “Snicket made me jump the fence.”
“Hmm, that sounds dangerous. I’ll have to have a talk with her.”
I looked up at him. His blue eyes sparkled. I smiled, then leaned against him again.
“Sam could have let me die, you know,” I said.
Grey looked down at me, eyes narrowed and serious again. “When?” he asked.
“Before the gas tanks exploded. I was heading toward the parking deck to look for Sam. When I found her, she made me follow her away. She could have left me there.”
I relayed the chase to Grey; how I caught Sam, and the long ride back.
“She said something after I caught her,” I said, trying to think back. “She said Karl wanted her to get close to some people in Hoover. I think she might have meant us.”
“Makes sense. He seems interested in you. The texts he faked from Sarah prove that.”
“It was more than that, though. Remember, Karl saw you project us away at the radio station. He might want whatever that is. Is it possible he thought I was responsible for the astral projection?”
“I wondered that myself. Because I was hurt, he might have thought it was you. That would explain his interest.”
“Sam didn’t know about the water main in Hoover. She’s responsible for everything else, but she looked totally clueless when I brought that up.”
I felt Grey’s muscles tighten. “That means there’s more than one saboteur. Did she hint at who else Karl has here or in Hoover?”
I shook my head. “Could they have been in the group she came in with?”
“I think it’s more likely Karl has been slowly infiltrating Hoover, over time.”
A chill ran down my back as I thought about all the people I lived with in Ho
over, and I wondered if any of them were secretly working for The Front.
“We’ve got to find out who else is from The Front,” I said. Grey nodded his head in agreement.
“We’ll need to talk to Sam,” he replied. I cringed at the thought of trying to pry information out of her again, but nodded in agreement.
We sat watching the fire with the rest of the survivors from Vegas for the next hour. We spoke no more of Sam or Karl, or of The Front. There was something about the blaze that seemed to echo the emotions percolating inside me, the swelling and flickering of the flames, the black smoke blocking the sun and casting a long shadow over us.
Grey promised to find me at the Palmetto after he spent a couple hours at the clinic. I made him promise to fill Connie in on the turn of events before we parted.
I found Shad with Rissi in the new dining hall of the Palmetto. It had previously been a five-star dining experience, but now it served pork and beans to the weary and soot-stained survivors of the Vegas community.
“How is he?” I asked Shad. I didn’t have to say Ben’s name for him to know who I meant. Shad frowned and shrugged.
“Is Sam bad?” Rissi asked, her spoon hovering over the bowl of beans in front of her. “She didn’t seem bad. She was pretty.”
I sat down next to Rissi and picked up my own spoon. “No. She’s not bad. She just made a mistake.”
“A lot of mistakes,” Shad muttered, spearing a piece of pork onto his fork.
“How are you supposed to tell?” Rissi asked. “If they don’t look bad, I mean. How can you tell?”
“Bad guys smell bad,” Shad said, his mouth full.
“She didn’t smell bad,” Rissi retorted. “You do, though.”
I covered my mouth to keep from laughing, but giggles escaped anyway.
Shad swallowed, looking truly offended. “I do not!”
“You do, too!” Rissi argued.
It felt good to laugh after so long. Like stretching after a long afternoon nap.
“What’s so funny?” A male voice behind me asked. Ben stood behind us. Every smile but Rissi’s disappeared.
“Hey, man,” Shad said, offering Ben a seat. “You eaten yet?”
“Not hungry.” Ben slumped into the seat.
“What happened to your girlfriend?” Rissi asked. I cringed when she referred to Sam that way, but Ben didn’t move. He just continued to stare at the table. His silence indicated just how much pain he was feeling.
“She’s not my girlfriend anymore, Rissi.”
“Oh. Well, where is she?”
I wanted to stop her from picking at a sore spot with Ben, but my own curiosity about Sam’s whereabouts kept me silent.
“Here in the Palmetto.” Ben’s eyes came to mine this time. “Daniel found a couple guards to stand outside her door. They’re not really worried about her breaking out... more like people breaking in before the trial tomorrow. Franklin wasn’t the only one in favor of...” His voice trailed off as he looked down and caught Rissi’s wide eyes.
“Hey, I scored us a pretty sweet room,” Shad piped up. “Rissi, do you want to come up and see my new sock puppet show?”
Rissi did her best to look as mature as possible and said, “I’m too old for sock puppet shows.”
Shad slouched and said, “Jeez, Rissi, stab me in the heart, why don’t you? First I smell, and now you’re too old for my sock puppet shows?” He looked up at me and wagged his eyebrows while giving Rissi a sidelong glance. “How ’bout it, Autumn?”
“No thanks. I have some stuff I need to do.”
Shad let his spoon fall into his empty bowl and muttered, “Women.”
A look of understanding crossed Ben’s face, and I could tell he was trying not to grimace. “So you and Grey,” he began and hesitated. “Everything’s okay now?” he finished awkwardly.
I nodded once and forced a smile. This couldn’t be easy for him.
He nodded back and also forced a smile. “That’s... good.”
He got up and led the others away, and I leaned forward, my heavy head in my hands, elbows supported on the table. I was glad for the moment alone to think. So much happened in just a day.
I waited until the dining area was nearly empty before getting up. The lobby of the Palmetto was crowded with the folks moving in, so I blended in with the flood of people. All the talk among them was of Sam. All were in favor of her execution, and some wanted the job done today. I didn’t care for her, that was certain, but a sudden pang of sorrow thrummed through my chest at the thought of her being dragged from the hotel room where they’d hidden her.
I followed the flood of people into the stairwell. Only the first couple of floors above the main lobby and casino area were livable for the time being, so it was a short trip. The second floor was completely cleared, and everyone exited the stairwell there while I continued up to the next level. The third floor had enough rooms open to catch the overflow of people who couldn’t fit on the second, but wasn’t completely cleared. I figuring it was more likely Sam would be imprisoned there. Knowing there were guards outside her room would make it easy to figure out where they were keeping her.
I quietly opened the door to the third floor and peeked around a corner. In one direction was yellow caution tape marking an “X” across the hallway, blocking it off. I assumed the uncleared rooms were in that direction. In the other direction, two men leaned against the wall. I was willing to bet Sam was behind that guarded door. I made a mental note. Room 320.
I closed the door as quietly as I could behind me and made my way back downstairs. I decided to walk to the clinic and visit Connie. I was restless, and I didn’t want to be inside with all the talk of execution. The walk was short, and when I found Connie’s room, she was sleeping soundly. I wondered if Grey told her about the day we had yet, or if she’d blissfully slept through the whole thing. Part of me wanted to wake her, to tell her everything I was feeling, and let her comfort me the way my mother would have. But I didn’t. Her face looked taut, and I knew the burns on her legs were painful, even in her sleep.
I stretched out on the convertible chair next to her, and for a moment, dozed off. I saw the explosion again, and Sam’s tears, and heard the whinnying of the horses and felt the grittiness of the Vegas sand on my skin. I felt like I was going to scream, when a hand gently rocked me awake.
My eyes flipped open and, for a second, I didn’t know where I was. Then I saw cool blue eyes looking into mine. His presence was instantly calming.
“I must have fallen asleep,” I whispered hoarsely. “What time is it?”
“Just mid-afternoon. I’m glad you got some rest,” he said softly. “Come outside with me so we don’t wake her up.”
I followed Grey outside into the parking lot. Smoke still billowed from the Egyptian down the street and stung my eyes as we sat down on a curb. This was definitely one of the longest days of my life, and it was only mid-afternoon. Had it really just been a few hours since Grey and I had gone to Los Angeles to find Sarah? So much had happened. Sarah, now Sam. I looked up at Grey, who watched the smoke plume rise into the sky, then haze out as the wind caught it.
“They’re keeping Sam at the Palmetto,” I said. “Guards are standing outside her room. Room 320. There are fewer cleared rooms up there, and fewer people. They’re protecting her from the rest of Vegas. I’m worried she might not make it until this evening, even with the guards standing watch.”
“The sentiment here has been about the same.”
“Ben mentioned there will be a trial for her tomorrow.” I paused reflecting on the notion. “I’m positive they’ll sentence her to death.”
“I believe they will, too. Do you agree she should be executed?” He seemed genuinely curious.
I thought about the question for a moment before answering. I imagined the possibility of Rissi, pale and broken and still. I remembered Sam chasing me in the alley the night I met Karl and Grey the first time, how her shriek telling everyone I was running
had terrified me. I looked up at Grey to say it didn’t bother me that Sam might be executed and saw his caring face, his eyes watching me tenderly, and I heard Sam’s words again, “Wouldn’t you do anything for him? No matter what? Wouldn’t you walk the world if he asked you to?”
“No,” I said, suddenly. “No, I don’t agree. I don’t think she should be killed. Punished, yes. Imprisoned, chained up, forced to do community service, yes. She’s sixteen. Karl only got her to do all this stuff because she’s in love with him. It seems unfair to kill her.”
“The trial tomorrow will be, at best, a formality,” Grey said. “But at least there will be a trial now. We bought her a few more hours when we intervened with Franklin today.”
“Everyone’s so close to the situation here, they can’t be impartial,” I said. “Unless they bring her to Hoover. But even there, I don’t think she’d stand a chance.”
“I’m not sure they care about impartial jurors. This is more of a martial law scenario. From what I’ve heard, they’ll haul her in front of Franklin, and the rest of the people here, ask if she has anything to say, and allow Franklin to pass judgment, which, I’m guessing would be carried out immediately.”
“Franklin shouldn’t be the judge. Vonna was one of her victims,” I sighed.
“He’s their leader, though. It’s not exactly like Hoover, where we have an elected mayor. I think Vegas might get there eventually, but this is such a small settlement. From what I gather, they haven’t had a lot of internal politics, so there isn’t an official system in place.”
“Grey this is wrong. I’m angry at her. So angry. But this whole thing feels wrong.” I spread my hands helplessly. Grey nodded again, understanding.
Grey stood, pulling me to my feet. He led me into the alley next to the clinic. “Does the third floor look like the second floor?”
“Identical,” I said.