Citizens of Logan Pond Box Set

by Rebecca Belliston

  “Your training.” Ashlee smiled. “I can’t wait to see you in uniform.”

  He stared at You-can-just-call-me-Ashlee, wanting to scream. Here he’d thought Mayor Phillips signed him up because of the black-market mess, but the handwriting on his envelope had been distinctively female.

  Ashlee’s.

  Fury coursed through his veins.

  “It was you,” he said. Ashlee had submitted his name for service because he wouldn’t give her the time of day.

  “What?” She feigned innocence even as she took a step back.

  His mom grabbed his hand. “Let it go, Greg.”

  He couldn’t.

  “Don’t play dumb,” he said. “Why’d you submit my name for service?”

  “It wasn’t me,” Ashlee said. “I swear. But this is a good thing, Greg. Just think. You’ll be bringing peace and harmony back to our country. You’ll be protecting citizens like me and your mom and those citizens you just met. You’ll get money and your green card, and, and…” Her eyes darted around. “And you’ll be fighting the rebels.”

  I am a rebel! he wanted to yell.

  Clueless, her courage seemed to return. She leaned over the counter. “You can even take your mom to the doctor,” she whispered, as if his mom had gone deaf with her cancer.

  He refused to speak to You-can-just-call-me-Ashlee after that. She didn’t deserve his civility. Even she seemed to realize he was done with her, and mostly spoke to his mom as they finished up the paperwork.

  A shout echoed in the front office.

  “You!” a man said. “What are you doing here?”

  Greg turned as a light-haired patrolman strode out of the back hallway. Every muscle in Greg’s body stiffened. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen this patrolman, but he assumed it would be the last.

  David Jamansky stormed into the front office, eyes darting back and forth between Greg and Ashlee.

  “So this is what you’ve been doing while I was gone, Ash?” Jamansky said. “Running around with this creep? I told you to stay away from him.”

  Ashlee and Jamansky looked like twins with their light hair and lean bodies, but Ashlee didn’t seem cowed by her brother’s outburst. She knew he was nothing but a puffed-up bully.

  “Oh, calm down,” Ashlee said. “Greg’s only visited me a few times while you were gone, David, but it’s been great, hasn’t it, Greggy?” She ran a finger along her collar bone and let out a sultry sigh. “What encounters they’ve been.”

  Jamansky turned red with rage.

  Greg gaped at her. What was that? Was she trying to get him killed? The day Greg met Ashlee—the day he got his yellow card—David Jamansky about leveled him just for talking to her. Since then, Greg had not only helped Oliver frame Jamansky for working the black market, but when Jamansky came for Oliver, thirsty for blood, Greg helped Oliver outrun him. The clan hid Oliver in Logan Pond until Jamansky’s arrest. Now Greg couldn’t figure out why Jamansky was here instead of in prison. Which begged the question, where was Oliver?

  Dead?

  Greg tightened his grip on his mom. “Let’s go,” he whispered.

  “Not so fast.” Jamansky jumped in front of them to block their escape. Startled and already wobbly, Greg’s mom stumbled and fell against the counter. She yelped in pain, but Greg caught her before she tumbled to the floor. Jamansky didn’t even glance at her. He glared daggers at Greg. “I wasn’t done talking to you.”

  Rage surged inside Greg. The patrolman had at least one gun, a nightstick, a Taser, and the ability to end their lives. Greg had nothing but clenched fists and a citizenship card that should have protected them from this kind of abuse.

  His mom leaned against the counter, wheezing and struggling to breathe. If she started coughing, things would go from bad to worse.

  “You okay, Ma?” he asked.

  Jaw tight, she managed a nod.

  It took every ounce of his willpower to keep from leveling the patrolman. Fights like this got people killed.

  He had to stay calm.

  “We were just leavin’,” Greg said through gritted teeth.

  He turned to help his mom, and that was his mistake. Jamansky grabbed his arm, spun him, and wrenched it behind Greg’s back. Then he slammed Greg’s head down on the counter.

  Pain sliced through Greg’s skull.

  His mom screamed. So did Ashlee. Jamansky ignored them both to press an elbow into Greg’s spine.

  “You don’t leave until I say you can leave, Greggy,” Jamansky hissed in his ear.

  “Ma?” Greg called. She wasn’t where she should be, which meant she’d fallen. Jamansky had knocked her over. Greg could hear her alternating between crying and coughing. “Ma?”

  Her crying turned to choking sobs. “Leave…him…alone!”

  “Shut up, or you’re next!” Jamansky yelled at her.

  That did it. Too many loved ones hurt. Too many freedoms stolen. Greg had two choices: comply or fight. He knew which he should choose, but if he didn’t do something fast, his mom wouldn’t live long enough to appreciate his compliance.

  His blood coursed through him, but he forced every muscle to go slack.

  “David,” Ashlee said, running around the counter to him, “these people came in to renew their citizenship. That’s all. I was teasing about Greg. I’ve barely seen him. He’s done nothing wrong!” She tried to pull Jamansky away, but his elbow dug into Greg’s spine. “Leave him alone!”

  “Shut up, slut!” Jamansky roared. “If you’d just—”

  Greg made his move. With a single step back, he dropped his shoulder and rammed it into Jamansky’s chest.

  Caught unaware, the patrolman stumbled back. His grip loosened. Greg was free, but he didn’t stop. He kept barreling back until Jamansky went down as hard as his mom had.

  Jamansky was only on the floor a second before he jumped up. Greg was ready. He swung fast and sank his fist into Jamansky’s gut. But before he could get another punch in, Jamansky whipped out his gun and leveled it at Greg’s nose.

  Greg froze mid-swing.

  More screams erupted behind him. His mom was growing hoarse, but he didn’t dare check. Fear clawed at him as he stared down the barrel of that gun.

  The two men heaved deep breaths, each braced for the other to make the first move.

  When it became apparent that Jamansky wouldn’t shoot—not here, not over something so ridiculous—Greg glanced over his shoulder. Ashlee had crouched next to his mom, trying to calm her down, but his mom couldn’t quit coughing. Already her sleeve was splattered with blood. She’d be vomiting soon if Greg didn’t end this.

  Now.

  “We’re leaving,” Greg said through heavy breaths.

  Without waiting for Jamansky’s approval, he turned and headed back to his mom.

  “Stop!” Jamansky yelled.

  Greg kept going. He was getting her out of there before any more harm was done. He wouldn’t be cowed, but he was done fighting.

  “Unless you want her dead,” Jamansky said, “you will stop right now!”

  Out of the corner of Greg’s eye, he saw Jamansky change aim, lowering the gun to his mom’s head.

  “No, wait!” Greg said. “Stop. Stop!”

  “Why? Looks like I’d be doing her a favor.”

  The hatred that surged through Greg was so vile he could taste it. His mom was too engrossed in her own problems to realize she had a gun aimed at her. Hands high, Greg sidestepped, placing himself between her and Jamansky.

  “Leave her out of this,” Greg said. “She’s done nothin’ wrong. What do you want from me?”

  “To never see your face again,” Jamansky sneered.

  “Done. I’m leavin’ in the morning. I’ve just been drafted, and I’ll be gone for good.”

  Jamansky snorted. “You expect me to believe that?”

  “It’s true, David,” Ashlee said from the floor. “I saw the papers myself.”

  “Shut up, whore! Not another word from you
.” Then Jamansky turned and shouted over his shoulder. “Simmons! Get your scrawny butt out here!”

  Oliver entered the hallway that connected the patrol station to the township office. The second he took in the scene—Jamansky’s gun trained on Greg, Greg’s mom coughing up blood on the floor—his face paled. Greg wanted to warn him to keep a poker face. Oliver couldn’t recognize them, not without making things worse.

  “Yes, Chief Jamansky?” Oliver managed.

  Chief?

  What was happening?

  “I want this punk detained,” Jamansky said. “Lock him up.”

  “No!” Greg’s mom cried. “You can’t…” More coughs sputtered. “You can’t arrest him.”

  “Mrs. O’Brien,” Ashlee said, sounding near to tears herself, “please calm down. You’re coughing up blood.”

  “Do it!” Jamansky yelled at Oliver.

  Panicked, Oliver’s gaze flickered to Greg. “Chief, may I ask why this man—”

  “I said do it!” Jamansky bellowed. “Now!”

  Pulling out his metal handcuffs, Oliver started for Greg. “Feet apart, sir,” he ordered. “Hands behind your head.”

  nineteen

  GREG WAS TOO STUNNED to react.

  In a blink, Oliver had cuffed his hands behind him. But with the click of the lock, Greg’s brain kicked back in. Oliver tugged on his arm, urging him toward the holding cells.

  Greg dug in his heels.

  “Stop!” Greg said. “You can’t arrest me. Stop!”

  “Stop fighting,” Oliver hissed at him. “You’ll only make it worse. Let me handle this.”

  Something animal raged inside Greg. His mom was on the floor, and if he didn’t show up on time to training, the government would make his family—and the clan—pay. Not to mention, how would his mom make it home without him?

  “No. I’ve gotta report for service.” He writhed, trying to see Ashlee. “Tell him!”

  Leaping up, Ashlee ran for Jamansky. “He’s telling the truth, David. Greg was just drafted for service. He leaves in the morning. I wrote the papers myself.”

  Jamansky whirled. “I told you to stay out of this.”

  She folded her arms, expression full of loathing. “When are you going to wake up and realize that I hate you? This here, this situation just solidifies it. I’ll never take you back, so get it through your thick, idiotic skull. We’re through!”

  Jamansky’s eyes widened.

  So did Greg’s.

  Ashlee and David Jamansky might look like siblings, but they were dating—or had been. And Jamansky thought Greg had been messing around with her while he was in prison?

  “Like it or not, Ash,” Jamansky said, “I’m back now, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “Yes, I can. If you detain Mr. Pierce, you’ll be interfering with national security. I’ll write the report myself. Do you really want the feds back here, snooping around? Greg has to report for duty on Thursday, and as Chief of Patrols, it’s your job to make sure he gets there. So what’s it going to be?” Her chin lifted. “Your pride or your badge?”

  Jamansky glared. “If he doesn’t have to report until Thursday, then I can detain him until Thursday.”

  “No,” Greg said. “I don’t have any transportation. It’ll take me at least two days to walk. I planned on leavin’ first thing tomorrow—maybe even tonight just to be safe—but if you detain me and I don’t arrive on time, I’ll report this precinct for interfering with national security.”

  “As if they’d listen to you,” Jamansky scoffed.

  He had a point. Greg was a nobody, soon to be lower than dust once they saw his scars.

  “Maybe not,” Ashlee said, “but they’ll listen to me.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Jamansky said.

  She smiled curtly. “Try me.”

  For a second, it looked like Jamansky might strike her. The two of them stood in a lockdown standoff. Oliver kept a firm grip on Greg’s arm, staying mute and utterly useless.

  In the end, Ashlee caved first. “Look, David, you’re mad at me, not them. If you want to know the truth, Greg wouldn’t give me the time of day. There. Are you happy?”

  “My son is innocent,” Greg’s mom added, still crying. She shifted as if to stand, but her leg gave out and she fell back on the floor with another cry of pain. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks. “Please let him go. He’ll be gone tomorrow.”

  Jamansky breathed heavily, eyes darting from person to person before resting on Greg again. “Let’s hope they put you on the front lines and you’re killed off early, Greggy dear. Just to be clear, even if you survive long enough to get a badge, you will never work in Shelton. I never want to see your face again. My precinct is and always will be full. Capiche?”

  Nostrils flaring, Greg forced himself to nod.

  Oliver finally spoke up. “Sir, I can escort this citizen to Naperville on Thursday if you’d like. That way we know he has reported for duty.”

  “No. Take him now,” Jamansky said.

  “What? No,” Greg said, eyeing his mom. He had to get her home. Safe.

  Jamansky waved his arm. “Get him out of my sight. I want him out of my precinct, out of my town, and I want him out now. He can sleep outside of the gates until Thursday. It’s no longer my problem. Keep him cuffed until you’re there. In fact, leave the handcuffs on. They’ll find a way to break them off.”

  Blinding panic shot through Greg. “But I haven’t packed yet.”

  Jamansky laughed darkly. “You won’t need anything where you’re going.”

  “At least let me take her home. She can’t walk without help.” Greg writhed to yank free, but the metal cuffs dug into his wrists. “Just let me get her home, and I’ll leave from there. You have my word. Please. She can’t even walk!”

  “Then she shouldn’t have come!” Jamansky yelled. “Get him out of here.”

  “Sir,” Oliver said, “may I drop off his mother before I escort him to Naperville?”

  Jamansky’s gun rose again, only this time aimed at Oliver’s chest. “So help me, Simmons, if you say another word, I’ll blow your brains out. Get your partners and get this scum out of my precinct. Now.”

  Nodding, Oliver called for his partners. The two young patrolmen who had stopped Greg on the street came running. Each took Greg’s arm and dragged him toward the front doors.

  Greg jerked wildly to break free. “Wait. At least let me say goodbye.” Every labored breath of his mom’s was like a punch to his gut. He would never see her again. Oliver jumped in to help his partners wrestle Greg outside. Greg’s foot caught hold of the door jamb and locked strong. “Let me say goodbye!”

  “David,” Ashlee begged, “you can’t do this. Let Greg say goodbye.”

  Jamansky didn’t even look at her.

  “I’ll give you what you want!” Ashlee suddenly yelled.

  That caught his attention. Jamansky held up a hand, stopping the three patrolmen. “Everything?”

  She looked disgusted, but her jaw tightened with determination. “Yes, but only if Greg gets to say goodbye and…if you let me drive Mrs. O’Brien home. In your car. Right now.” Ashlee held out her hand. “Give me your keys.”

  Jamansky’s nostrils flared. The only sound in the office was Greg’s mom crying and wheezing.

  “This better be sincere, Ash,” Jamansky said, digging out his car keys. “No more games.”

  “It is.” Ashlee snatched them up.

  Jamansky motioned to Oliver. “He gets one minute. Not a second more.”

  Greg didn’t know why Ashlee was on their side, especially after how he’d treated her, but he was forever grateful. She would drive his mom home. His mom would make it back to Logan Pond alive.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Oliver giving him a wide-eyed, terrified look. A warning of some kind. Before Greg could decipher it, the young patrolmen dragged Greg across the room and shoved him toward his mom. Hands still cuffed, Greg landed hard on his knees.


  He felt helpless kneeling in front of his mom, hands bound behind him. He couldn’t help her stand up. He couldn’t even wipe the tears streaming down her hollow, blood-smeared cheeks.

  “I’m sorry,” his mom cried between raspy sobs. “I-I’m so sorry.”

  “Ma,” Greg whispered, “you gotta calm down. It’s fine. I’m gonna be fine, and so are you. Ashlee will make sure you get…” He stopped in sudden dread, realizing why Oliver was freaking out by the door.

  Ashlee couldn’t drive his mom home. Not with a neighborhood full of illegals who weren’t expecting them. People would be outside. Ashlee would see them, report the clan, and Jamansky would obliterate every last one of them.

  “Ma,” Greg whispered urgently, “Ashlee can’t take you. She can’t.”

  “I know. It’s fine. I…I’ll just…” She tried to shift positions. Another cry of pain burst from her lips. “I’ll get out of it. I’ll take the wagon and rest when I need to. You just take care of yourself.”

  Greg’s chest seized up seeing her like that. It was happening again. Kendra first. Now her.

  His eyes burned. “I love you.”

  She scowled through her tears. “Don’t say it like you’re never gonna say it again.”

  He might say it again, but she might not hear it again.

  “You gotta wait for me,” he said. To die. She had to wait. She’d fought this disease for eight months to make it to Illinois because she was a Pierce. She was a fighter. Then again, so was Kendra, but this time Greg would play by the rules. He’d become a soldier or whatever they told him to be. He’d find her help. But she had to fight long enough for him to make it back. “You gotta wait,” he begged.

  Her eyes swam. She reached up and laid a shaking hand on his cheek. “I love you, son.”

  He wanted to yell what she had—Don’t say it like you’re never gonna say it again!—but his throat constricted. She hadn’t promised to wait. She hadn’t even tried.

  Hot tears slipped from his eyes. “I know.”

  She managed a tiny smile. “Just remember that whatever they—”

  “Times up!” Jamansky barked. “Get him out of here.”

  The two patrolmen yanked Greg back and away.