“You move another inch and I swear to fuck I’ll blow you away,” Bill said.
Jon stopped moving, keeping the gun aimed at Bill.
“I knew we should have just killed you when you got here,” Bill said. “But Judah wanted to play games. He wanted to break you. All the work I did was for nothing.”
“You mean all the work you did by just so happening to be the guard at the gate when I decided to come and turn myself in?”
Bill pumped the shotgun. “You shut the fuck up!”
Jon licked his lips. He could take the shot. Rarely did he miss. But if he did, he’d probably be dead. He wouldn’t be able to get off another shot before the Vulture pulled the trigger on the shotgun, which wouldn’t miss its target.
“Now, we’re going to walk into the house, and I’m going to kill you in front of Judah,” Bill said. “So, bring your sorry ass over here n—”
A bang echoed, and blood shot from Bill’s ear. He hit the ground and Jon looked up to see Hugo up against the house and clutching his shoulder where a knife protruded from the right side of his chest. He held a pistol in one hand, and moved his other to the knife. Jon hurried over to him, and was just able to catch him as he slid down the house and onto the ground.
“Shit, we’ve got to stop this bleeding,” Jon said.
“No!” Hugo demanded. “Get inside of that house. Mouse and Brooke are in there.”
“I know, but—”
“But nothing. I’ll be fine.” Hugo gestured toward Bill’s dead body. “That asshole didn’t know which side of my chest my heart is on.” He laughed, then coughed. “They can’t keep me down, amigo.”
Jon didn’t laugh. He put his arm around Hugo and helped him over to the tree, sitting him down on the other side of it.
“Stay here and out of sight,” Jon said. “I’ll come back for you.”
“I’ll be fine. Help Brooke and Mouse.”
Jon didn’t hesitate. He hurried up the stairs and opened the front door of Judah’s house.
The morning’s sun poured into the living room through the windows. Even so, around a dozen candles gave the space more light. Jon saw the glare of the candles on the walls in the foyer, coming from the living room. He heard someone crying from in there.
“You killed him!” Brooke said.
“Yeah, and you’ll be next if you don’t listen and do what I say,” Judah’s familiar voice threatened.
When he came around the corner and into the living room, Jon saw a pair of legs hanging out from behind the sofa. He recognized the boots on the feet. They belonged to Mouse.
Brooke stood in the center of the living room with her back to him. She’d raised her hands in the air and was facing Judah.
Jon raised his gun to aim at Judah, but the cult leader saw him and grabbed Brooke’s arm, pulling her toward him. Brooke cried out as Judah held her as a shield, a pistol pressed against her temple.
“Don’t you take another step,” Judah said as Jon arrived a little more than a car length from him.
“Jon,” Brooke said, tears in her eyes as she looked at him.
Judah grinned. “Jon? So, that’s your name. Quite disappointing, actually. I was expecting something more spectacular to live up to your Savage moniker.”
“Let her go,” Jon demanded. “This is between you and me.”
“Oh, and that’s where you’re wrong, Jon. Have a look outside. These folks have clearly crossed the line. They’ve broken the trust between us, see?”
“Fuck your idea of trust,” Brooke said through a choked breath.
“Brooke, be quiet!” Jon said. “You can let her go. It’s me that you want.”
“But what fun would that be? She’s the one, isn’t she, Jon? The new love of your life, your fresh squeeze? It’s interesting how one can get over the dead so fast when you find a pretty thing like this.” Judah ran the barrel of the gun over Brooke’s cheek, much like a lover would stroke it. Brooke shuddered, her lips trembling.
“Stop it!” Jon said, showing a rare fit of verbal anger and emotion.
“If you want me to stop anything, then you’re gonna have to start by putting that gun down.”
Jon contemplated it. Judah had shown himself to be ruthless. He knew that the cult leader would not hesitate to shoot Brooke if he didn’t obey, but what would keep him from killing them both anyway if he put the gun down?
“Don’t do it,” Brooke said to Jon.
“I suggest you shut your mouth!” Judah pressed the barrel harder against her temple.
“Okay, okay,” Jon said. He raised his hands, the gun still in his right one. “I’ll put it down.”
Jon squatted, keeping his hands raised. He lowered the gun and set it on the ground, then slowly stood again, his hands in the air.
Judah laughed. “It’s that easy? You really give up that easy?” He removed the gun from Brooke’s temple and aimed it at Jon. “You’re fucking pathetic.”
Jon gasped, taking his final breath as he stared down the barrel of the gun.
Brooke then screamed out, “No!” as she managed to loosen herself enough from Judah’s grip and bite the wrist of the hand he had holding onto his gun.
Judah cried out in pain and then forcefully pushed Brooke aside, shoving her into a nearby wall. On the way there, she knocked over a couple of candles. They hit the curtains on the way down, catching them on fire.
More importantly, during the bite, Judah had dropped the gun.
Jon didn’t hesitate. He kneeled and picked up the gun he had set at his feet and, without taking the time to aim, proceeded to unload three shots into Judah’s body.
The man staggered backward as blood sprang out from the places in his stomach and chest where Jon had hit him. He hit the wall with his back as the gun in Jon’s hand only clicked with each additional pull of the trigger.
Judah took in rapid breaths, his eyes lost as he put one hand on his stomach and the other on his chest. He slid down the wall, falling onto his ass and continuing to breathe heavily.
The gun Judah had dropped still lay on the floor and Jon grabbed it as a precaution before going to check on Brooke.
She lay on the floor on her side, conscious but in a state of shock. Jon kneeled down next to her and put his hands on her shoulders, and she let out a startled yelp as she looked up at him.
“Are you okay?” Jon asked.
Brooke nodded, then wrapped her arms around Jon.
While Jon hugged her with his eyes closed, he couldn’t help but notice the flickering orange light making its way into his vision. He looked up and saw the fire spreading, already having made it to the next set of curtains. He pulled away from Brooke.
“We have to get out of here.” He looked over at Mouse’s dead body. “We’ve got time to get him outside, but only if we go now.”
They stood up and, as they approached the body, Jon heard a laugh sound out from the other side of the room, followed by a gurgling cough. He turned around and looked at Judah.
The lead Vulture remained sitting against the wall, still holding two of his wounds. Blood colored his cheeks and his goatee. Still, he managed to find a way to smile.
Jon paused to examine Judah’s face, then stepped over toward him. As he did, Judah removed his right hand from his stomach and reached into his pocket. Jon aimed the gun at his head, concerned that he would pull out a weapon. He nearly pulled the trigger, but then he saw what was in Judah’s hand.
The photo of Jon and his family.
Judah laughed again, more blood coming out of his mouth as he coughed.
Jon marched all the way over to Judah and kneeled down, getting eye level with him. He snatched the photo out of Judah’s hand then took one last look at the cult leader before standing up.
“He’s going to find you,” Judah said.
“What the hell are you talking about? Who’s going to find me?”
All Judah did was smile, only irritating Jon. Jon kneeled again and grabbed onto the man’s
collar.
“Who the hell are you talking about?” Jon asked, raising his voice. He pressed the gun against Judah’s skull. “Tell me!”
Again, Judah coughed, a weak laugh coming from his mouth. “You’ll find out soon enough. That, I can promise you.”
Jon shook him, but it was no use. Judah’s smile disappeared as he coughed one last time, and then his head went limp as his eyes stared off into nothing. All Jon could do was stare at him, confused by what the man had said in his final moments.
“We have to go,” Brooke said. “This place is going to fill up with flames soon.”
Jon stared into Judah’s dead eyes for another moment, wanting to beat his face in but knowing it would do him no good. Instead, he turned his eyes down to the picture. Blood had leaked from Judah’s hand onto the picture, most of which slid off when Jon picked it up. It created an eerie look to the photo, like blood dripping down him and his family in the photo.
He shoved the photograph into his pocket, then went to help Brooke get Mouse out of the old plantation house before it burned to the ground.
37
The fire crackled, keeping Jon warm as he sat with his knees at his chest next to the pond just outside the gates of Hope’s Dawn.
As he looked out over the water, he pictured many faces. Nine residents of Hope’s Dawn had sacrificed their lives in the previous day’s battle, including Max, who had done so to save Jon’s life. It was hard not to see the curly-haired kid’s face wherever he looked. After the fight had ended, the last of the cult members had either surrendered or run off. Settlers of Hope’s Dawn and Vultures alike had lain scattered throughout the camp, victims of a ridiculous and pointless war started by one man.
And that one man was the face Jon saw most and could not get out of his head.
The bloody smile on Judah’s face during his final breaths, illuminated by the burning house around him, could not escape Jon’s vision. Whether he closed his eyes or kept them open, he saw the cult leader’s face. Watching Judah take his last breath and then letting his body burn with the house should have brought Jon closure and comfort. But it hadn’t. It wasn’t as if he'd enjoyed killing people, but taking the life of the one man he’d encountered who’d deserved it the most had taken a particular toll on Jon. And Jon couldn’t help but think about who Judah had referred to in his final breaths.
Was it possible that Judah had only been playing an ugly trick on Jon in his final moments? It was. But Jon was good about spotting a liar. Nothing about Judah’s face or tone had suggested that he was lying.
So who was going to come after Jon?
It was a question he would have to address later. Soon, but later nonetheless.
Hope’s Dawn needed him.
For the first time since he had lost Carrie and Spencer, Jon didn’t want to be alone. The people of Hope’s Dawn hadn’t come after the Vultures only to secure their own freedom; they’d also done so to save Jon’s life. Nine had died and several others had suffered injuries in order to come to the aid of a man they barely knew. It showed Jon that, despite the darkness, this dead world still had a hint of light gleaming within it.
Footsteps sounded behind him, and Jon turned to see the brightest of those lights.
Without saying a word to him, Brooke sat beside Jon, matching his position with her knees up and her arms folded over them.
“How is everyone doing?” Jon asked.
“Exhausted, as you’d imagine. We’ve been preparing for the memorial service tomorrow. But good news, it looks like Garrett is going to make a full recovery.”
Jon sighed. “At least that’s one bit of good news we can lean into.”
“It is. Tomorrow is going to be hard on everyone here, but we’ll make it through. It’s what they’d all want. No one who dies wants their loved ones to stop living just because they’re gone.”
Jon looked over at her. Even with how tired and broken she was from dealing with so much death, Brooke’s face still shined. And her words were so true, resonating with him more now than ever.
Scooting closer to him, Brooke put her head on Jon’s shoulder. Though he thought of Carrie, Jon continued reflecting on what Brooke had said. So, instead of urging her away, as he'd done in previous days, he wrapped his arm around Brooke and allowed her to nestle into his chest.
He focused on his breathing as he trembled, something about this still making him feel guilty. But he knew that would subside, though the memories of his family would never fade.
They sat there in silence for several minutes, listening to the sounds of the fire and the pond with their bodies joined together. Then Brooke lifted his arm and sat up.
“We should get back over there,” Brooke said, standing up and wiping the dirt off the front of her jeans. “Dinner should be ready about now. Hugo is cooking up some venison we got from the Vulture camp, and you’ve never had his food. Trust me, he can cook!”
Jon smiled. “Can’t wait to try it. I’m definitely hungry. And I’m glad to hear he’s doing okay after being stabbed yesterday.” He stood, feeling his knees pop. His body still ached from the previous days of being in captivity and the beatings he’d received. “Mind if I have just a minute, though?”
“Of course.” Brooke put her hand on Jon’s shoulder and smiled before heading back to join the others within the gates of the camp.
Jon turned to the pond, waiting for Brooke to put some distance between them as he stared again over the water. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the picture of his family.
The photo had already started to fade before Judah had stolen it, but now, with it being stained with the dead man’s blood, Jon could barely make it out. Blood had covered all but his wife’s eyes and his son’s smile. Ironically and most disappointingly, almost none had gotten on Jon. He looked at a smiling man without a care in the world, his family at his side, all of them living their simple lives. Lives which would change not long after the photo was taken, and eventually end for those he could no longer see in the picture.
When he closed his eyes, Jon could relive the moment when they had taken the picture. He saw his wife chasing their son on the beach, both of them laughing. Then Carrie directing Jon over as Spencer ran out into the ocean. The couple embraced, sharing a kiss as they turned to watch their son splash in the water.
The memories would always be there with Jon. The picture would never leave his mind.
He took one last look at his wife’s eyes and at his son’s smile.
“I love you two, and I always will. And I will do what I know you would want, and I will live on. But you will not be forgotten.”
Without hesitation, Jon tossed the picture into the campfire.
The corners bent, melting as the heat absorbed it. Jon only watched it for a moment before he looked out at the water again.
He wondered if his family was on their own beach now. He hoped they were, and that eventually he would be there with them.
But the world still needed Jon South, so the reunion would have to wait.
Jon still had his own life to live. More memories to make. He would always cherish the ones he’d created with his family, but life wasn’t through with him yet. The time would come for there to be another dead South, but not yet.
Because Jon South still owed the world, and he wouldn’t leave it until he’d paid off all of his debts.
Epilogue
The messenger breathed heavily as he pushed past a man walking through the camp with a bag of rice over his head.
“Watch the fuck out!” the man with the rice said.
“Sorry!”
But he wasn’t really sorry. The messenger was only nervous, terrified to deliver the news he carried.
The man reached the large white church guarded by two of his counterparts in the front.
“I have to see him,” the messenger said.
“Not right now,” one of the guards said.
The messenger handed a piece of paper to the guard. The gua
rd swallowed, stepping out of the way before handing the note back.
“Thank you,” the messenger said.
He entered the church, illuminated only by the creeping sunlight and some candles spread throughout. Past the twenty-five rows of pews, sitting behind a desk atop the stage was the man he had come to see. The messenger swallowed as he lumbered down the center aisle, approaching the altar.
The man sat still behind the desk, never looking up as the messenger approached. He kept his nose to a piece of paper, a pen in his hand as he wrote furiously.
Arriving at the front of the stage, the messenger removed his hat. “Sir, I am sorry to disturb you, but I have an important message. It’s about the Vultures. It’s about Judah, sir.”
The man behind the desk stopped writing. He slowly looked up, the gaze he gave the messenger the only sign that he could step up onto the stage.
The messenger walked up the stairs and approached the desk. He handed the folded piece of paper over.
Laying it down in front of him, the man behind the desk unfolded it and read it. He said nothing. After a moment, he looked up again. He stared at the messenger before glancing at the door.
“Oh, yes, sir,” the messenger said. He hurried off the stage and down the center aisle, only looking back once.
The church door shut, and the man behind the desk sat there in silence. He picked the message up and crumpled the piece of paper in his hand, breathing heavily but saying nothing. With his other hand, he removed the necklace from around his neck.
He positioned the purple pendulum an inch above his palm, and in his mind, he asked it only one question.
“Will I find the man who did this?”
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