"Then I suggest you consider recruiting more. You are the mayor, after all."
"You're making this impossible."
"Not at all, Mr. Myers. I am doing my level best to help you." Marianna's eyes flitted to the door and back again so quickly Devon wasn't sure he'd actually seen it. He also thought he'd heard a subtle emphasis on the word "help".
"The thing is, you're using Jessie's welfare to get me to be your fall guy, when I don't even know if she's still alive."
"Devon, I can promise you she will not come to any harm on my account if she behaves herself."
If she behaves herself.
"Now," Marianna continued, "we both have work to do. Good day."
In the couple of days since he'd been appointed the puppet mayor of Hope, Devon had gotten used to the sidelong glances and outright poison he'd endured from some of its residents. The Sons used daily proclamations made from outside the community center to spread information, and they'd announced his appointment the following day to a mixture of disbelief and open hostility. Of course, they didn't explain the fact that Jessie's life depended on him cooperating, but folks remembered her speech only days before. The one about sticking together and not collaborating.
But Devon had a thick skin, and he was used to being unpopular. He strode along the sidewalk toward the intersection and his apartment lost in his own thoughts. It had been a long day as he'd tried to wield what little power he had to best protect the very people who so despised him. If there ever was an uprising, he could see himself hanging from a lamppost, whichever side won.
Jade was there when he got in. She was curled up on the dusty couch, wrapped in a throw and squinting at a book she was resting on the dog. "Hey," she said as he ambled into the kitchen to unpack their rations. "Thanks for the bath."
He smiled to himself as he sorted the assortment of cans, grains and packages into a corner of the cupboard. It had taken over an hour to bring bucket after bucket of water up from the street pump to fill the bath. He'd then boiled several kettles on his camping stove—not caring that he was exhausting his limited supply of gas—and tipped the hot water in before heading off to see Marianna.
"You're welcome," he said. "How was your day?"
She groaned. "I got blisters on my hands. And that guard is an ass. He's real pissed that you didn't get hung. Joe tries to keep between me and him, but ... you know."
Yes, Devon knew. He only hoped it would remain the sort of petty bullying that scumbags like that excelled in.
"Did you ask about Jessie? Toto's missing her."
Devon opened a can of beef stew and poured it into a pan. "Yeah. She says if I'm a good boy I might get to see her."
"It's okay. I know it hurts plenty."
He peered at her from the counter-top. She sat there like an emaciated Buddha, one hand stroking the dog's head, the other gripping the book. She looked up at him and smiled. Strange. This child of the internet seemed to be adapting to the new world better than he was.
"Do you want to play a game after dinner?" He'd been teaching her the few card games he knew. Gin Rummy was proving to be the most popular.
She nodded. "Sure."
The smell of beef filled the apartment as Devon thought of Jessie, reaching out as if he could find her by telepathy. She was a strong woman, but everyone had their limit and, after all, he only had Marianna's word that she was alive and unharmed. Devon dismissed that line of introspection. The black mood descended all too easily these days and he couldn't afford to indulge in catastrophic thinking.
He poured the stew into two bowls and brought them into the living room.
He couldn't breathe. He tried to pull air in through his mouth but it was blocked. A point of light flashed into being above him and a voice hissed. "Be silent!" Cold metal pressed against his temple.
Devon fought to keep down the panic that rose from his stomach as the hand over his face lifted and he took in a lungful of air.
"Who the hell are you?" Devon hissed.
A man's voice said, "Come with us. We have the girl."
Hands pulled Devon up until he was leaning against the wall. He turned to see a figure standing in the doorway holding on to Jade, who was trembling.
"Alright, just don't hurt her. Where are we going?"
The man standing beside him said nothing. Was this a lynching? Had a group of townsfolk decided to mete out vigilante vengeance against the collaborator? Or were they rogue elements within the Sons who didn't like the fact that Devon hadn't been executed for attacking the guard? Either way, things looked black.
"Get dressed," the man said. He spoke with a Deep South accent that might have been comical in other circumstances.
Devon stumbled out of bed and pulled on the pants and shirt he'd thrown over a chair before going to sleep.
Once he'd laced up his boots, a hand grabbed his arm and bundled him through the apartment, out the door and down the stairs. They paused inside the entrance to the building as the leader peered out of the half-open door. It was totally dark outside which, at this time of the year meant it had to be between midnight and 3:00 a.m. He could sense at least three others around him, one of which was Jade.
"Remember, y'all keep silent. If they catch us, we're all gonna swing."
So, they weren't anything to do with the Sons.
Someone pushed Devon out into the cool night, then dragged along the front of the apartment building and away from the intersection. The dark shape of the local Mormon church reared up against the Milky Way, and his captors guided him through its parking lot and then behind the building. Hands bundled him into the back seat of a car; Jade was pushed in on one side and another figure slid in on the other.
"Are you serious?" Devon said, once the door was closed. "They've got a roadblock on the highway."
"We ain't going along the highway, son."
The car coughed into life and Devon expected at any moment to see lights heading for them, but whoever had planned this had thought it through. The church was on the extreme northern edge of the town, and the Sons had evacuated the few houses here.
"Where are we going?"
"Never you mind. Just relax and enjoy the ride. Might be a little bumpy to begin with."
The car moved off, but rather than turning toward where it opened onto the highway, they headed in the opposite direction. Devon had only been up here a couple of times, but he knew that there was a road that ran parallel to the highway, heading into town, and they crossed that onto a dirt track that cut between two houses then, leaving the dwellings behind them, soon opened out onto the desert.
Their transport had been chosen because it was gas rather than diesel fueled, and therefore quieter, but it wasn't suited to the rough roads they were forced to take and the inside was a cacophony of curses as heads hit the ceiling and, from time to time, each other.
A dark shape passed them on their right. Almost certainly one of the many mine buildings that scattered the landscape around Hope. The most recent, extensive and active were on the west side, and that was where the Sons were rumored to be building their … whatever it was. He didn't want to use the term "concentration camp". But over here, to the northeast of Hope, were older, smaller metal barns and shacks that had served some purpose fifty years ago, but which now merely rotted in the desert.
Devon was now completely at sea. If he was in the hands of a vigilante group, then why hadn't they stopped by now? They were beyond the ears and eyes of the roadblock on the highway, so a quick bullet to the head and they could have shoved him out and driven away. And if that were the case, why bring Jade along? Once she'd served her purpose of keeping him quiet, they could have let her go. His heart, which had threatened to burst from his chest, had settled down to a regular, though accelerated, pace. He found himself at least as curious as frightened.
The car turned left, following dirt roads that were invisible to him, but just about navigable by someone familiar with the landscape. They seemed to be heading for the highway agai
n, approaching it from the east and to the north of where guards patrolled the roadblock.
Sure enough, minutes later they rolled onto the asphalt and headed north for a few hundred yards before taking a left onto a gravel road that snaked left and right before running between low buildings on either side. Finally, it stopped, and a pair of flashlights ran out, gun barrels poking in through the window as the driver rolled it down.
"Don't worry, it's us. We got him."
"Good, bring him in."
The passenger door swung open and a firm grip guided Devon out of the car. He'd given up asking what the hell was going on, but his heart began thumping again as he followed the flashlight beam into a shack that stank of manure.
He could tell that there were people waiting in the main room and, once he was brought to the center and his own breathing had settled down, he could hear them. It felt as though, only seconds before, they had been talking, whispering among themselves.
Gas hissed and light burst from a lantern in the center of the room. A feeble enough lamp, but it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden brightness, and then he saw him, swaying a little, a crutch under one arm and looking like a reanimated corpse.
"G … Gert? Oh my God! What the hell?"
The gaunt face spread in a smile. "Hello, my friend. And here is someone you will be even more pleased to see."
And Jessie stepped into the lamplight.
Devon gasped, then cried out with joy as he threw his arms wide and ran at her. And once the tears began, he thought they would never stop.
Gert had put the lamp onto a crate and he, Devon, Jessie and Jade sat around it once the initial tide of emotion had washed out again. Devon had watched as his friend limped back and forth, refusing all help or even to explain what had happened.
"We got things to talk about, Dev," he said, finally, peering over the lamp.
"Yeah, like how you survived and how Jessie got to be here—she says I've got to ask you."
Gert nodded. "Ja, we will answer your questions as soon as you have answered this: is it true you're working for the Sons? Is it true you're a collaborator, a puppet mayor doing their bidding?"
"It sure is!" It was the voice of the Southerner who stood beyond the circle of light. "They appointed him and announced it. Why, if it weren't for the respect I hold you in, Commander Bekmann, I'd have slit his treacherous throat in his sleep."
Jessie turned to face the speaker. "And if you had done that, Ricky Reynolds, I'd have cut your balls off and choked you with them. I didn't give you the key to my apartment so you could kill the man I love."
What a moment for her to declare it publicly. She turned to him, eyes pleading. "Explain to them that you're not working for the Sons."
"I'm sorry," he said. "I had no choice but to agree."
"I told you!"
"Get out of here, Reynolds," Gert said, pointing into the darkness, then tracking movement as footsteps crossed the floor and went outside. "Now, Devon, explain yourself."
Devon shrugged. "It's simple enough. She said she had Jessie and that if I wanted her and Dorothy to stay safe, I had to agree."
"That was a bad move, my friend," Gert said, shaking his head.
"I couldn't let them kill her."
"They wouldn't have."
"Why?"
"Because she was with us by then."
Devon sighed. "I didn't know. And anyway, she made it clear that the people of Hope would suffer if I didn't take the job."
"How did you imagine you could protect anyone, Dev?" Jessie said.
"I just knew that I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I said no. For all I knew, that would have condemned you to death, and Marianna might have appointed a Neanderthal like the sheriff to be mayor."
Gert shook his head sadly. "I know you, Devon, so I know you're no coward. But some people will just label you a collaborator."
"Are you thick AF?" Jade burst out, seemingly unable to keep her temper in check. "I mean, Devon literally put his life on the line time and time again for the people he loves. And everyone else."
"It's okay, Jade," Gert said, when the storm had passed. "I know. I'm just saying that this is what some people will say."
Devon smiled at Jade, then looked back at Gert. "I realized that when I agreed to do it. Hated by both sides, but if it saved Jessie, and if I could use what tiny power I had to help people, then I decided the risk was worth taking. But tell me, what happened to you? And how did you rescue Jessie?"
Leaning back on his creaking crate, Gert fished in his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. His lighter illuminated a thousand cuts and abrasions as he sucked in a lungful of poison. "You last saw me—when was it?—a week ago?"
"Six days. I left you at the northern barrier."
"Hey, Ricky, you can come back in now!" Gert called.
Devon turned to see the silver-haired man slip back in having, Devon was quite certain, heard every word of what they'd been saying.
Gert smiled at him. "Sorry, but there won't be a hanging tonight, my friend." Then he addressed Devon. "Ricky was alongside me that night. He and three others who fought to give the people of Hope the best chance to escape. Imagine my surprise when I learned that you hadn't gotten Jessie away like you said you would."
"That was my fault, Gert, as I've told you," Jessie said.
"Yeah, well, I guess I know who wears the pants in your household," he said, with a smirk. "But it was a tough fight and only me and Ricky got out of it alive. We kept a couple of grenades and used them to cover us as we ran like rabbits into the minefield. They didn't dare follow us, so we got away. But I took a bullet to the leg just when I thought we were out of range. Hurt like hell, and Ricky there isn't much of a doctor."
Ricky snorted. "Looks to me like you survived okay. Bein' gentle was just about the last thing on my mind when the blood started spurtin' out. Fair ruined my best huntin' jacket."
Gert brought his leg around and lifted it, so Devon could see the bandage wrapped around the calf. "Jessie cleaned it up when she arrived, but I'll have a limp for a while."
"I'm sorry," Devon said, before turning to Jessie. "But now, finally, I want to know what happened to you."
Chapter 3: Springs
"They came when you were in jail, waiting to be hung." Jessie said. "I was sick with worry, but Dorothy needed feeding, so I was doing that when they banged on the door. It was Marianna. Not the Marianna we knew. This one is cold as ice. She ordered me to pack."
"Where did they take you?"
"To the Barratt Mine, you know the big copper mine to just to the west of the town. The place had been shut down the morning after the firestorm, but there were dozens of people there already. Women with children, mainly, but they sent some of the people I was with—most of them were old men—to another building. A bit like a warehouse. I think they're opening up the mine again."
Devon took her hand. "Why would they want to keep women and children apart?"
"I dunno. Maybe for the same reason they had taken me—to keep a man in line. Some of them weren't even from Hope. The guards kept a close eye on them, but we were all treated well. But, on the second night, I escaped. The camp isn't completely secure yet, and, anyway, I reckon they rely mainly on intimidation and fear to keep people in check and I'm waaay past that stage now. I heard a commotion and took advantage of it to slip away."
"Commotion?"
"That was me," Gert said. "I'd set up a base in an old farmhouse just to the northwest of the mines; me, Ricky and one or two others we'd come across. I saw them come in and decided, after a couple of days, to poke the tiger a little. We needed supplies, and they had a truckful outside one of the buildings. We were just making our way out again when Jessie called me. Just as well I wasn't so fast on my feet or I'd have been long gone. So, we brought her out and you know most of the rest."
"And this is the farmhouse?" Devon said, gesturing at the darkness around them.
"Ha! No, this is
a storage barn for the pig pens outside. No pigs, sadly. We didn't want to take you to the farmhouse until ..."
"Until you'd decided if you were going to shoot me."
Gert shrugged. "It was a possibility. But now, I think we must make plans and then you should return to the town before they notice you've gone."
"I was afraid you might say that."
Rubbing her eyes, Jessie said, "Or we could all head for Springs like everyone else with half a brain."
"Not me," Gert said. "I've got too many scores to settle."
Devon sighed. "I dunno, Gert, they're entrenched and well equipped. Even once Mendoza left, the garrison is more than enough to keep a firm hold on the town."
"Well, you must make your own choice, but if I know you at all, Devon, you don't want to abandon the people there. You have friends in Hope, no?"
Devon considered this for a few moments. The Bowies were probably the only people left he could call friends. Jessie's suggestion to run to Springs was tempting, really tempting. Or, at least it would be if he wasn't certain that, in a few weeks, the Sons would roll into that town and do what they did to Hope. And he doubted that he'd get much of a hearing from Marianna or Mendoza when they found him. So, it was a choice between two evils: spend the rest of their lives running or do what little he could to protect his friends, and stay close to the center of things. At least that way he would know what was going on rather than constantly looking over his shoulder.
And yet his heart yearned to run, like a gazelle with a pack of lions on its trail. He desperately sought a third way. Could they head in a different direction? They knew for a fact that this band of the Sons of Solomon had come from the other side of Salt Lake City, from the north and east, so going that way made no sense. Ezra was to the south, and that was where Mendoza had gone, so that was out. Which left going west, past Springs and toward the coast.
It was tempting. Sam Hickman had gone that way, though they'd heard nothing from her since. "Where's Dorothy?" Devon asked.
"She's in the car, fast asleep. Do you want to hold her?"
Last Hope: Book 5 in the Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series: (The Last City - Book 5) Page 2