by Nancy Isaak
“But did they join because they truly believe,” I wondered, “or because they were just scared and didn’t want to die?”
Kieran and Pauly both shrugged.
“Who cares?” muttered Kieran. “Either way, they’re still a Crazy.”
* * * *
Worried that the Crazies would show up at any moment, Kieran and Pauly had quickly unchained the slaves and hustled them out of the water facility. To head off anyone tracking them—while Pauly was moving the rescued guys across the hills toward Los Angeles—Kieran had stayed behind and laid down a false trail in the opposite direction.
Three hours later, Kieran had caught up with Pauly and his group, just as they were traveling along Mulholland Highway toward Topanga Canyon. The slaves were completely exhausted by then, dragging their feet, barely able to stay upright.
“We eventually broke into one of those big houses along Mulholland—on this side of Topanga,” Kieran told me. “Fed the guys, took care of their wounds, that sort of stuff.”
“How long did you stay there?” I asked.
“Three days,” Kieran answered. “We wanted to make sure that we weren’t being followed. Also, it gave the guys a chance to get better.”
“Because we didn’t want to have to carry anybody down Topanga,” said Pauly. “That would have been brutal with all its up and down hills.”
“Plus, it gave Pauly and me time to check out our route,” explained Kieran. “We went down Topanga while the guys rested—all the way to the bottom. Didn’t see anybody until we reached the Pacific Coast Highway.”
“The Crazies are at Topanga?” I asked, worried.
“Not, yet.” Kieran shook his head. “But they’ve definitely got guys up at Big Rock and over at Moonshadows Bar a little ways up the highway, so they’re getting close. That’s why Pauly and I decided to take the slaves by boat.”
“That was the easy part,” said Pauly. “We just rowed out past the surf and turned north.”
* * * *
“What happened to the guy you lost along the way?” I asked.
Kieran sighed. “Stupid bad luck,” he muttered. “Rock slide came down along that windy bit near the bottom of Topanga Canyon. Kid got beaned by a rock not much bigger than my fist.”
“And it killed him?!”
“Hit him in the side of his head,” said Pauly. “Guy got knocked out.”
“We tried to wake him up,” Kieran told me. “But the kid never did. Just started breathing slower and slower. By the time we carried him down to the beach, he was dead.”
“Tragic,” I murmured.
Pauly reached out and nudged my brother. “Tell him.”
“Tell me what?” I asked.
Kieran sighed. “We kind of lost another guy,” he admitted.
“What happened?”
He sighed again. “Dude hit his eighteenth birthday as we were rowing past Malibu Pier.”
JOURNAL ENTRY #32
We had Rhys’ birthday party tonight.
Hard to believe that he’s actually 12-years old.
I used to think that Rhys was so immature, that he’d never grow up. Now, though—he seems so much older than twelve. So much more mature.
But—then I guess we all do.
Even the way Rhys looks now is so very different from how he no doubt would have been in the old world. His skin is dark—beyond tanned—bronzed from the hours he spends in the sun. And his hair is lighter—not quite white, but close to it. The weirdest thing is his body, though. Rhys has become wiry—all muscle and sinew—not thin, so much as lean.
There is not an ounce of baby fat anywhere on him now.
As much as I don’t want to admit it, my 12-year old brother is definitely not the baby of the family anymore. Rhys is a fighter now, and a leader—with his own unit of young warriors—an important and vital member of our tribe.
Mom and Dad would be so very, very proud.
I know I am.
* * * *
Rhys didn’t want a big party.
Instead, he just wanted it to be the original gang. So, Kieran, Porter, Connor, Ethan, Wester, Andrei, Ian and I packed up some barbeque supplies and a chocolate cake and headed over to our old house. My guards weren’t too happy with the idea, but I set them up in one of the garages with their own barbeque and cake and that seemed to settle them down.
It was a nice evening. For once, nothing dramatic happened. Nobody got hurt or disappeared. There were no emergencies, no fights—and no Crazies.
Just nine guys eating cake by candlelight and singing Happy Birthday.
What could be more normal than that?
* * * *
Before Kieran left on his little adventure with Pauly, he and I had spent a lot of time debating what we were going to give Rhys for his birthday present. We wanted it to be special, something that he could use—that would be important to him.
Kieran immediately had an idea—something he and Brandon had discovered while scavenging a famous action star’s mansion over near Paradise Cove. I won’t lie—I was horrified by Kieran’s idea when he first told me about it. But, after talking it over—and over and over—I realized that Kieran was probably right.
It was the perfect present.
And that’s why we gave Rhys a M24.
* * * *
“You’re giving me a sniper rifle?!”
Rhys was absolutely ecstatic when Kieran handed him the weapon. He immediately started jumping up and down and giggling.
“Dude!” Kieran reprimanded him, holding one hand on Rhys’ shoulder to calm him down. “You’re holding a rifle, bro…steady.”
Rhys went stock-still—probably afraid that we were going to take the weapon away from him. “I can’t believe that you’re giving me a sniper rifle,” he whispered, grinning. Then, he started giggling again.
At that moment—honestly—I couldn’t believe it either. Just a couple of months ago, Rhys had been terrified of guns.
“It takes 7.62mm bullets,” instructed Kieran. “We’ve got a lot of them so, if you don’t go crazy with the ammo, this weapon could last you a while.”
“But you have to take it seriously,” I warned Rhys. “Because the tribe will be counting on you.”
Rhys’ jaw dropped open. He looked stunned. “You want me to be our sniper?!”
“It only makes sense,” I shrugged. “Bro, it kills me to say this, but you’re not just the best shot in our family. From what I can see, you’re the best shot in our tribe.”
Holding the sniper rifle to his chest like a baby, Rhys looked from Kieran to me, tears filling his eyes. “This is like…the best birthday ever!”
* * * *
I’m still not comfortable with the idea of Rhys having the rifle. I know that he’s the best shot that we have. And, no doubt—he’ll make a great sniper. But do I really want my younger brother put in a position where he has to kill someone?
Of course not.
But the horrible truth is—sooner or later—the Crazies will be coming.
And that’s how Kieran finally convinced me to give Rhys the rifle as a birthday present. By asking me one question—do we want Rhys fighting the Crazies up close or from as far away as possible?
So—Rhys might think that we’re giving him a weapon.
But, honestly—Kieran and I are just trying to keep him away from the war.
FIRE BREAKS
The next morning, I was back inside the Local’s compound. Rhys was off with his unit, doing war maneuvers up and down Dume Drive. Kieran had gone over to the medical center to spend some time with the newcomers.
I had no idea where Ethan, Wester, Andrei, and Ian were, however.
The moment we had reached the inner walls that morning, they had taken off, vanishing into different corners of the camp. I had desperately wanted to run right after them. Or maybe even go surfing down at Zuma.
Instead, I had meetings—one after another.
Connor was first—along with Josh and Paul
y, we spent a good two hours, going over the topographical maps of the area, circling any place that was beside a water source. We were searching for the third slave camp.
Over the next few days and weeks—using the list we were preparing—we planned on sending the Alpha Teams out to search for the slaves. If they found them, the Alphas were to report back and we would then figure out how to best mount a successful rescue.
* * * *
Porter showed up in the conference room after lunch. He wanted to discuss his needs for both the school and the medical center. With the rise in our population, Porter was finding himself stretched to the limits of his capabilities.
“It’s not just that I need more help,” he complained. “It’s that I need more education.”
“I can certainly get you some guys to work in the medical center and the school. That’s easy. But…well…I’m not really sure how I can help you with your own education,” I said. “Let’s face it, Porter. You’re the teacher asking to be taught more.”
“Which makes it so darn frustrating!”
“Have you asked around?” I suggested. “Found out what all the guys know? Maybe there are some who have knowledge that you can use.”
“I’ve been logging everybody as they come in,” he said. “You know that. And I ask everybody what they know. So, we have a list in case we need something. But it just isn’t enough!”
“Well, I don’t know what to say, then,” I conceded. “I’m kind of at a loss at how to help you.”
Porter took a deep breath. “I do have an idea,” he offered.
“Why do I have a feeling that I’m not going to like this?” I groaned.
“Just hear me out,” pleaded Porter.
“Go on,” I said, warily.
“What do you think about sending some guys to the library? We’ll take some carts and bring back as many books as we can carry. Create our own library here. Then, if we need to know something, we can just look it up.”
“Porter, the Malibu Library is in Crazy territory! Plus they’ve got lookouts all along Pacific Coast Highway now. Kieran and Pauly saw them.”
“But not in the other direction,” insisted Porter. “And not going up Encinal. Which means that the libraries in Westlake Village or even Oxnard could probably be safe.”
“Could be…”
“But it’s worth a try, don’t you think? There’s so much that we don’t know, Jacob. So much we absolutely need to know.” Porter was practically begging now. “And it’s going to be all there—in the books. We just need to get to them.”
“I’m sorry, Porter,” I finally said. “It’s just not a good idea right now.”
“But it’s books,” he said. “Books!”
I shook my head. “It’s just too dangerous. Maybe in a couple of months, if the situation with the Crazies changes. But right now, I just can’t let you take out a crew. The libraries are too far away.”
Porter looked heartbroken. “You know what’s going to happen, don’t you? The Crazies—they’ll burn down the libraries. Because that’s what savages do. That’s what they always do!”
“I’m so sorry, Porter.”
* * * *
As a disappointed Porter walked out through the door, Frank came in, carrying another one of his wrinkled, spotty lists. I motioned him toward a chair. “What’s up, Frank?”
“We’re having a little problem with squirrels getting into some of the seedling beds?”
“You want to check the stores for some poison?”
Frank looked horrified. “God, no!” he exclaimed. “I just need some guys to go with me to the other side of the Point. According to Porter’s list, there’s a house there that has enough of the mesh that we need to cover up the beds. It’ll keep the squirrels out plain and simple…no animal needs to be killed.”
I felt stupid. And—oddly—like I had embarrassed Kaylee’s memory.
“Of course,” I nodded, quickly. “Talk to Josh. He’ll assign you a couple of guards and some helpers.”
“Three of the newcomers are interested in farming,” Frank suggested. “I’d like to take them with me if that’s okay.”
“As long as they’ve been medically cleared by Porter or Connor, I don’t have a problem with it.”
Frank checked his list, moving on to his next concern. “You also are going to have to talk to the tribe about not going into the farming fields.”
“Why not?” I asked. “Are they trampling on the plants or something?”
“Worse,” he said. “They’re picking the vegetables. We’re finding carrot tops on the ground.”
“Could it be the squirrels?”
“Considering the teeth marks, they’d have to be mighty big squirrels.”
“I’ll take care of it,” I groaned. “Guess it is time for some rules.”
* * * *
After Frank, there was a dispute between two guys and the ownership of a crossbow that had to be mediated. Following that, four of the newcomers came in, determined to return home to Woodland Hills. Despite the threat of Crazies controlling the territory all along their route, the four couldn’t be persuaded to stay and ultimately left with a supply of food and water and our crossed fingers.
* * * *
Just after four p.m., Josh entered the conference room, carrying a clipboard.
“No!” I said, shaking my head, dramatically.
“We need to talk about setting up a Tribunal,” he insisted. “You put this afternoon aside specifically for organizing that, remember?”
Grumbling, I settled down for another long, boring meeting.
* * * *
Ian and Andrei rescued me five minutes later. They came tumbling into the conference room, excited by their discovery. “Jacob!”
“We’re having a meeting here, guys,” Josh advised them.
Ignoring him, Ian held up a key, swinging it in front of my face. It looked like any other key—utterly normal—but I knew immediately what it was.
“You found it?!” I exclaimed.
“And you’re never going to believe where!” grinned Andrei.
“Jacob—about the Tribunal…” began Josh.
I waved him off, apologetic. “We’ll start work on it tomorrow. I promise. But, right now—I’ve got a garage to visit!”
* * * *
“So, two questions—where did you find the key and what’s in the garage?”
“We couldn’t find the key anywhere,” said Ian. “And we went through every room in the mansion!”
“That was a lot of rooms,” nodded Andrei.
“So, then me and Andrei, we thought about it,” continued Ian. “Like where would we put the key? What would make sense?”
We were walking down the big staircase in the entry hall, heading toward the door that would lead us down to the lower level. Josh had already left us, intending to let the others know that the final garage was about to be opened.
“Where did you find it?” I asked.
“It was kind of obvious if you really thought about it,” teased Ian.
“You put the key where everybody can use it!” interrupted Andrei—jumping up and down in his excitement.
I stopped walking, turning to face them. “It was in the garage all this time?” I asked, astonished.
“Well, not exactly in it,” said Ian. “But it was just outside. At the gate.”
“Where? I thought we had searched all through that area.”
“We did,” Ian nodded. “But you had to really think about it.”
“Like you want to put the key where everybody can use it,” added Andrei. “But not where everybody can find it.”
“It was hidden,” I guessed.
“Behind that piece of board that goes all around the sides and tops of the gate,” said Ian.
“The crown molding?”
“I think that’s what it’s called. There was this one piece that looked weird.”
“It had lines through it,” Andrei explained. “L
ike it had been cut.”
“We twisted it and the piece came out, just like in the movies.”
“Well, what do you know,” I chuckled. “And what did you find in the garage then?”
They grinned at each other. Truth is—they didn’t go in.
In fact, all Andrei and Ian did was to make sure that the key worked and that the gate could be pushed up. Then, they pulled it back down and locked the garage up again.
“You didn’t go inside?!” I was surprised.
Ian shrugged. “You’re the car guy. It’s important to you. Me and Andrei just wanted to find the key.”
We reached the front of the metal gate, where Ian handed the key over to me with a ta-da! Word must have traveled fast that I was finally about to unlock the mysterious garage, because a handful of Locals were already there—excited to see what amazing automobiles we were about to uncover.
Kieran came racing down the stairs, carrying a couple of lit hurricane lanterns. He handed one to me, but kept the other for himself. “How long are we going to wait?” he asked, looking around impatiently. “Do you think there might be a DeLorean inside? What if the prince actually has the original one from the “Back to the Future” movies? Or maybe even the Batmobile! Like that would be so amazing!”
More guys came flooding into the area; some were carrying lanterns, others candles.