The Ten Thousand

by Doug Felton

  She wanted to delete the last image she had of Alexander from her mind, but she couldn’t. Anything else would have been better, a picture of him smiling, even angry. But that horrible moment of realization when he knew he would die — the sadness and fear that bled through his eyes — that’s what she saw. Instead of closing her eyes to sleep, Raisa forced them open. Closing them only emboldened the image, but forcing them to stay open dared her body to make her sleep. Eventually, her self-imposed mind game worked, and the world around her faded away.

  Raisa drew in a deep breath, pulling herself into rudimentary consciousness. The room she was in was dark, and the bed soft. She felt the other side, only to find it empty. For a moment, her mind tilted with the mental equivalent of vertigo. A door had been shut on her memories, and she couldn’t make sense of her surroundings. How had she gotten there? Where was Alexander? She searched her mind and then wished she hadn’t. The image of him dying surfaced, and with it, every suffocating emotion sleep had hidden from her. Tears welled up in her eyes as she relived the memory. She beat the bed where her husband would have laid with her fist, releasing her anger. Why did you leave me? Why? I need you! A low guttural sound made its way out of her chest and burst out of her mouth as an angry scream.

  The thud of footsteps sounded somewhere beyond the door, and then it burst open. When it did, light spilled into the small, shabby room. Josh stood at the door.

  “Are you alright?” he said, short of breath as if he’d run to her.

  Raisa didn’t answer. She was embarrassed they’d heard her outburst.

  “If you’re hungry, we have food out here.”

  Real food, Raisa thought as the aroma of something cooking drifted into the room. She was hungry, but accepting Josh’s kindness felt wrong. How could she allow herself to ease her pain without betraying Alexander? His body was still lying out in the woods, that is if Zeke’s men hadn’t dragged if off somewhere. How could she sit down to a meal, as if nothing had happened? “Where am I?” she asked, deflecting his offer.

  “Safe,” Josh said. “I can explain, but you need to get something to eat.”

  Raisa pushed herself up on her elbows and brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Have you forgotten that I am the queen, Lieutenant? You don’t give me orders, is that understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am. There is food out here for you whenever you’re ready. Is there anything else I can do for you?” Josh’s hazel eyes radiated sincerity and concern.

  She had expected him to stiffen at her rebuke; to push back against her prickliness. At least she would have been justified in closing him off. But his caring eyes hammered at the barrier she was trying to build, putting an unexpected lump in her throat. “That will be all,” she said, dismissing him.

  When Josh left, Raisa caught her breath. She had lost loved ones before, but this time the grief took her on a different journey. Before, she’d been able to accept the comfort of others, but not now. She didn’t feel responsible for Alexander’s death the way she had for her father and brother. Their deaths saddened Raisa and made her feel guilty, but Alexander’s death angered her. That’s why she had to push everyone away. She didn’t want Josh or anyone else to console her. She needed the pain to fuel her revenge. When Zeke was dead and his dream destroyed, then she would grieve.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The rest of the house where Raisa found herself was as shabby and mismatched as the room in which she’d awakened. A few minutes after Josh left, Raisa composed herself and joined the others, channeling her pain into her mission. That allowed her to deal with it, or at least suppress it for the time being. Down the hall from her room was a small living room with a couple of patched-up sofas, an easy chair, and some tables. The room was lit by several kerosene lamps. Josh and the rest of the group were spread out around the small space. In the easy chair sat a man Raisa had never seen. He was older, with a bald head and a grey beard. When he saw Raisa, he stood.

  “Your Majesty. Welcome to my home.”

  The others hastily stood with him. They had not observed royal protocols since the fighting began, but the man with the beard didn’t know that.

  “It’s not much,” he said, “but it’s all mine.” Gesturing to the furniture, he said, “I’ve decorated in an early garage-sale motif.”

  Raisa knew he meant it as a joke, but she had no energy for laughter. “It’s very nice. Thank you.”

  Josh stepped forward to introduce Raisa. “Your Majesty, may I present Ernest Lovelady.”

  “Don’t let the name fool ya,” Ernest said. “I’m not the lady's man I might appear to be.”

  Raisa found herself unable to take part in his witty repertoire. “It’s a lovely name. Could I trouble you for something to eat?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Ernest trotted off to the kitchen as Raisa took a seat on the couch. She looked at Josh for an explanation.

  “Sanders and I were doing recon of the neighborhood, and we noticed smoke coming from this house,” he said. “He has a smoker out back. All the other houses were empty, and he’s the only one we’ve seen, so we set up here.” Josh looked at a shotgun leaning in the corner. “He was cautious at first, but after we convinced him who we were, he offered us shelter and food. You were in a deep sleep. I thought it best not to wake you.”

  Raisa wondered if Josh had carried her here. “Isn’t he curious why you brought the queen to his house unconscious?”

  “I told him the truth. Mostly,” Josh said. “That you had left the Palace on official state business and had come under attack and were separated from most of your security detail. I told him our communications were compromised, and we needed someplace safe to regroup.”

  “What did he say to that?”

  Josh smiled. “He said, ‘Again?’”

  “I am making a habit of this, aren’t I? Is that all you told him?” Raisa wasn’t ready to talk about Alexander with a stranger, and she’d hoped they hadn’t said anything.

  “Yes, ma’am. That was all.”

  Ernest returned with a plate of something warm and savory. She devoured it without asking what it was.

  “Ernest was not here when the virus spread,” Josh explained.

  “No, but my family was. I was a consulting engineer for Pfahler and Sloan, and I was gone on a business trip. By the time I realized what was happening, the border was forming at the river. It was all I could do to get back in.” His expression darkened. “I’ve never seen anything like what I saw crossing back into the New World province. It was apocalyptic. I’m ashamed to say I nearly turned back, but I didn’t. By the time I made my way back home, my wife and daughter had succumbed to the virus.”

  “I’m sorry,” Raisa said.

  Ernest tipped his head in thanks. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Why have you stayed here?”

  “At first, I was looking for survivors. Then it was to bury the dead. They were my friends and neighbors.”

  “No one came to help?” Raisa asked.

  “Sabillasville barely registered on the map when times were good. You might have noticed we’re kind of out of the way here. So, no. No one came.”

  “It took me so long to bury everyone that by the time I finished, I was afraid to move away.” He let out a sad chuckle. “When you spend that much time with the dead, you kind of get scared of living.”

  Raisa felt something catch in her chest as Ernest spoke. It was as if he were talking to her. She felt exposed by his words and self-conscious. If she could stay in Sabillasville and hide from the world, she would.

  “I should have moved on,” he said, “but I was too afraid, and now here I am.”

  Was he looking at her? He was. Raisa looked away, feeling her cheeks flush. She didn’t like a stranger looking into her soul.

  “How many?” Josh asked, oblivious of the uncomfortable connection Raisa was feeling.

  “I buried 437 men, women, and children.”

  Raisa and her team sat in stunned silence
, glances of horror shared among them. But the silence wasn’t good. Raisa didn’t want time to think. She didn’t want to think about what it must have been like to bury so many people. And she didn’t want to think about Alexander, left lying on the ground unburied, exposed to the elements like an animal.

  Not knowing what to do with her pain, Raisa let the fire of her anger shape it into a hardened resolve. She forced an impassive look on her face and imagined that no one in the group suspected the hardening going on in her heart. That is until she saw Josh watching her with a knowing look. How could he possibly know? She held his stare with a steely gaze, daring him to read her thoughts. If he were Alexander, he’d see right through her. Empathy would pour from his eyes, and whatever defensiveness Raisa managed to scrape together would melt away. But Josh looked at her with what, not empathy . . . maybe disappointment . . . before clipping their connection and looking away?

  Ernest broke the silence explaining how he eked out a living between hunting and monthly trips to the nearest functioning city, Gettysburg. He had a modest amount of savings in a bank there that he used to get by. “It’s not far, as the crow flies, but I can’t take a direct route because of the shantytowns that have popped up between here and there. They’re not safe.”

  Raisa needed to change the conversation before problems she couldn’t fix, like shanty towns, overwhelmed her. They were on the growing list of issues she hadn’t addressed yet as queen, and this wasn’t the time to dwell on it. “We need to talk about what happens next,” she said to Josh. “Alone.”

  Ernest didn’t take offense at this, but he didn’t make a move to get up either. Normally, when Raisa said something like that, everybody would clear the room, but that wouldn’t happen without her making it explicit to their host. Instead, she said, “Why don’t we step outside?”

  As she stood, Ernest stood and took her hand. “I’m sorry about Prince Alexander,” he said. “I truly am.”

  His words stopped Raisa cold. She shot an accusing glance at Josh and then back at Ernest. “How do you know about Prince Alexander?”

  “Oh, no. It wasn’t him. I got it from the newsfeed. I may be isolated out here, but I keep up with what’s going on in the world.” He brought Raisa a tablet. The top story read: Prince Alexander Dead, Queen Raisa Held Hostage. “It’s been running nearly all day.”

  Raisa clicked on the story.

  “In what officials could only describe as an act of terrorism against the New World, Prince Alexander has been found dead near Camp David. Queen Raisa is missing and presumably still held hostage by the terrorists known only by his digital avatar, Tom Cruise. The Prince was apparently killed as private security forces employed by Zeke Wellington were closing in on the hostage-takers.”

  The picture changed from two news anchors to a video of Zeke. He was kneeling at Alexander’s body, New World soldiers standing in the background. He seemed distraught with his head in his hands.

  At the site of Alexander lying on the ground, Raisa let out a small cry and put her hand over her mouth, tears spilling from her eyes. Fury burned deep, and darkness closed in on the edges of her vision. She wiped the tears from her face and set her jaw. She would not allow herself to cry again until Zeke was dead.

  He stood and addressed the cameras, his face taut with feigned anger. “Today, the New World has lost a great man at the hands of terrorists. Millions will mourn the death of Prince Alexander even as we work to bring Queen Raisa safely home. I will continue to commit my resources to finding her, and whoever has committed this terrible crime.” He paused as if gathering himself. “I would hate to see any harm come to her, or to any of the Ten Thousand she holds so dear.”

  “That was odd,” Lieutenant Pinkerton said.

  “It was a message for me. He’s threatening the Ten Thousand.” Raisa said.

  The story continued with a statement by President Barrymore explaining why he allowed private security to participate in a rescue operation like this one, but Raisa didn’t pay attention. Anything he said would be a lie, and she didn’t have time for lies.

  Turning to Ernest, she said, “If you knew this earlier today, why didn’t you assume Josh . . . Lieutenant Lee was my kidnapper?”

  “The way he carried you here and laid you on the bed so carefully, he didn’t really look like the kidnapping type.”

  “That was a big assumption,” Raisa said.

  Ernest smiled. “But, I was right.” And then he added with no humor at all, “And if I felt as if they were a threat to you, I would have taken care of them myself.”

  Once outside, Josh said, “I think we need to get back to the capital.” It was dark with no lights from neighboring houses or buildings, keeping them tethered to the steps of the porch. “Now that you know Zeke is behind Tom Cruise, you need to be there to take control of the situation. You can expose him and put an end to this.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “With Nigel Barrymore and Zeke working together, there’s no way to know what we’d be walking into. Ashwill nearly convinced everyone that I went crazy and had tried to kill President Kaine. I’m not doing that again.”

  “With all due respect, you’re the queen of the New World. This is no way for you to be living; on the run, hiding in a dilapidated house. You need to go on the offensive, ma’am.”

  Raisa felt lost without the voices she’d relied on hashing it out in front of her. Over the last two years, they’d developed a kind of decision-making harmony with one another. Not that they always agreed, or told her what she wanted to hear — Raisa made it clear she didn’t need suck-ups — they spoke their minds. She considered dissonant opinions, and those opinions helped to shape the melody of her reign. Until recently, when she had refused to listen to the most important opinion of all.

  And look where that got me.

  Alexander might not always have the answer, but he knew how to spark a debate that would hack away the confusion and give Raisa her viable options. With her eyes squeezed shut, Raisa tried to hack away at the confusion in her mind right then, but she couldn’t see a way forward. She’d hoped that talking with Josh about the next steps would shake something loose and give her the answer, but it didn’t. The only thing Raisa was sure about was what she couldn’t do. She couldn’t go back to the capital. Not yet, at least. But Josh was right, they needed to get out in front of this. They needed to regain control. She needed to find Zeke and kill him, but how?

  “Ma’am?” Josh said. “What would you like to do?”

  His voice pulled Raisa out of her thoughts, still without an answer. She opened her mouth to say something, but a voice in the darkness cut her off.

  “Well, whatever you do, you can’t do it without me.” Penly stepped out of the shadows and into the meager glow of the kerosene lamps on the porch.

  Raisa raced down the steps and embraced her in what would have been a rib crunching hug if Penly weren’t superhuman. “You made it. I really needed you to make it.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Penly said.

  “I’m sorry. I am glad you’re okay. It’s just that I couldn’t take losing someone else.”

  “I got you, Wings.”

  Josh raised questioning eyebrows at the nickname but didn’t say anything.

  “You have no idea how glad you really are to see me,” Penly said.

  “Why, did you bring an army with you?” Raisa asked, sitting on the steps of the porch.

  “The next best thing. I brought intel. After I was sure Zeke and his men followed me away from you, I doubled back and did a little surveillance. He was plenty pissed at losing you, and he was barking orders.”

  “So, what’d you learn?” Josh asked.

  “What I learned is where they will be, when they will be there, and why.”

  “Spit it out, lieutenant.” Raisa didn’t have the patience for Penly’s verbose style of communication at the moment.

  “Zeke is going to Pittsburgh. And he’s taking the Ten Thousand with him.”

/>   Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Pittsburgh?” Josh said. “What’s in Pittsburgh?”

  “I don’t know, but when they cut off the chase, he got on his comm and started giving orders to get ready for Pittsburgh.”

  “Tell me exactly what he said.” Raisa was standing again, pacing with her head down as Penly talked, listening.

  “You don’t want to know exactly what he said. I’ll clean it up.”

  “Penly!”

  “Alright. I’m guessing at some of this, but I’m pretty sure he got a hold of Barrymore. He told him you had escaped and that they would have to move the time-table up. He told him to ‘get it ready in three days.’ He said Scott would have the presentation ready.”

  Scott? The name rang a bell in Raisa’s mind. “Why do I know that name?”

  “His tech guy was named Scott,” Penly offered. “Maybe he’s putting together a presentation for Zeke.”

  “Okay.” Raisa turned that bit of information over in her mind. What kind of presentation would Zeke make? And why was he giving Barrymore orders? “And you think this will happen in Pittsburgh?” she asked.

  “Yeah. He said, and I quote, ‘Not even my sorry excuse for a father can ignore this in his own backyard.’”

  “Ignore what?” Josh said.

  “What about the Ten Thousand?” Raisa asked anxiously. “What did he say about them?”

  “After finished talking to Barrymore, he called that guy from the pizza shop over—”

  “Hudson Phoenix,” Raisa said.

  “That’s the one. He told him it was time to ‘get them juiced and ready to move.’”

  That had to be the Ten Thousand. But how would he convince them to do what he wanted? And why did he want them in Pittsburgh? What would happen in Pittsburgh? Raisa had a thousand questions and no plan, but she had a direction, and almost anything beat sitting around trying to figure out what was next. She stopped pacing and looked up at Penly and Josh. “It looks like we’re going to Pittsburgh.”