In the converted, church gym, Jeff and Cory took liberty to borrow anything they wanted from Grant’s arsenal. By the time Christine caught up to them, she was burdened with a host of questions and no answers.
“What are you two up to? You’re not going back…tell me you’re not going back,” she said, panic rising in her voice.
The pair did their best to ignore her but it was futile.
“Cory, you can’t leave me. We’ve just left hell…you can’t go back. What’s the point?”
Cory turned to face his wife, but his countenance was set and unwavering. “The point is…we’ve left friends and family behind. We’re going to see what we can do.”
“I can see there’s no stopping you. Are your minds made up…both of you?” she asked.
“Yes,” the two replied.
“Then I’m coming,” Christine said, reaching for a box of ammunition from Grant’s stockpile.
“No…no…it’s out of the question. Just a couple of us are going. Our only chance is to get in quick and quiet. We can’t…”
“Have baggage?” she quipped.
“No. I can’t have my mind worried about you. We need to stay focused, Christine.”
“As much as I’d like to kick you in the balls right now, I understand. It’s our home.”
“Help Grant get everyone settled…” Cory began.
“Help Grant what?” Grant suddenly said, stepping up to the small group. “It looks like you boys are goin’ huntin’.”
“We might be,” Jeff replied.
“Might be…my ass. You’re headed to check on yer folks and the rest of ’em.”
“Yup…we are…and I’m guessing you’re comin’ along,” Jeff suggested.
“And you’d be right. My truck don’t go anywhere without me and you’re gonna need me on that .50.”
“Okay, well I guess that’s settled. Christine, looks like you’ll be in charge. Set up a perimeter and make sure you don’t have any unwelcomed guests. The sun’s setting now – we’ll try to make it back by sunrise.”
“Jeff, keep my husband from doing anything stupid…will ya?”
Kissing Christine on the cheek, Jeff assured her they would be back in no time and left her with an unsettling rhetorical question – “Have you ever known us to do anything stupid?”
“Alright boys, I’ve already done this once today. I’m through with goodbyes. Let’s get loaded up and be on our way,” Grant petitioned.
“Not before we do this,” Jeff replied, taking a smear of black shoe polish to cover his face. Cory did the same and offered the container to Grant. He wrinkled up his nose and pushed it away.
“Hell, I ain’t got the hips to do any sneaking around. I’ll guard the truck and cover your butts, but James Bond I am not.”
“Alrighty then, guess there’s nothing more to say,” Cory said. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 61
As the last vestiges of daylight flittered into dusk, Juanita finally got her way – storming both ends of Old Main to take the building. They encountered stiff resistance from a handful of men hunkered down behind hastily fashioned defenses of old desks and metal filing cabinets. The fighting was brief but intense; each side knowing the end was near.
From across The Quad, Finn’s troops sensed their time had arrived and surged ahead. They broke off into small squads, charging into adjacent buildings, searching for hideouts, escapees, and most importantly…Normals. Finn, who was quite pleased with his day’s performance, moseyed past gravestones and dead bodies to stand outside The Ward’s symbolic Alamo. Inside, sporadic gunshots still cracked the air but it was a pittance compared to the hours leading to this moment.
A few of his followers joined him, their eyes wild with anticipation. Finn nodded for them to ascend the steps. “Check it out and report back,” he said, smugly.
Minutes later the Harvester leader was joined by Lady Williams, accompanied by a pair of her biggest, surviving militia. Dark circles ringed her eyes and dried blood stained her cheek where a small fragment of metal had pierced her skin. “Long day,” she said, emphatically.
“Longest,” Finn concurred.
“Costly too.”
“Without a doubt. What have you got left?” he asked; secretly trying to probe her strength.
“Enough, but we definitely lost some good people.” Lady Williams paused for a moment, looking behind Finn at those pretending to be disinterested in their conversation. “It appears you’ve also been thinned.”
“As expected, but it’ll be worth the price – isn’t that right?” Finn probed further.
“My team is rounding up The Normals now,” Juanita said, the excitement in her voice palpable.
“Prisoners?”
“A few. We’ll know more in a minute,” she said.
Finn tried to read her expression, her body language, to see if she knew anything of his immediate plans, but she was a blank canvas. Either she was playing her role well or she was totally clueless. “What of the Bradley? I don’t see it. Has it retired?” he asked.
Williams laughed, hoping the frivolity would keep her from crying. “Retired?” she chuckled. “I guess you could say that.”
“What are you saying?” Finn replied, his heart sinking at what she was suggesting.
“More like expired. The Ward used some toxic grenade to burn through the hull – it’s a write-off; men, cannon, ammunition…all gone.”
“Damn,” Finn grunted. The Bradley crew had aligned themselves with him days before in exchange for a bigger piece of the Harvester pie once Juanita was discarded. “All dead?”
“Quite, but it’ll make a nice monument to what we accomplished here today. It’s the beginning of a new era. Once I’ve got The Normals, there will be no stopping me,” she said, triumphantly.
“You?” Finn asked, tersely.
“Yeah, me…you…us. We’re all that’s left…with The Ward out of the way, we’ll rule the roost.”
At that moment, both a Harvester and militiaman burst from Old Main’s door. They bounded down the steps, stopping near Lady Williams and Finn. “They’re gone,” they said in unison.
“What do you mean ‘gone’?” Juanita snapped.
Her man lowered his eyes and replied, “The Normals – they’re not in the building.”
Instantly incensed, she stepped into the man’s personal space and shouted at his face, “They can’t be gone! Check again. They’ve got to be hiding.”
“Yes Ma’am,” he stammered, and then turned to run away. Williams followed quickly behind, ignoring Finn.
“What’d you find?” Finn asked a rather thin-faced, gray-eyed Harvester.
“No Normals, just like he said.”
“And?” Finn pressed.
“And no bloody women…at least any that are alive.”
“That’s not possible. Did they fight to the end? Were they all killed?”
“Maybe…but I don’t think so. A handful of men gave themselves up when they ran out of lead.”
Finn considered the information briefly before issuing an order. “Bring them to me.”
“All of ’em?”
“Yes, get them out here…pronto!”
“Okay…okay…you don’t have to yell,” the man replied.
Five minutes passed before a trail of Ward survivors were paraded in front of Finn. The nine men, many of them bleeding and in obvious need of medical attention, were forced to kneel, their hands behind them.
“Who’s the leader here?” Finn growled.
The men remained silent, their eyes drawn to the ground, except for one.
“What’s your name?” Finn asked, stepping to stand in front of the exception.
“Does it matter?” he asked, in reply.
Finn laughed, and asked again, “It might. What’s your name?”
“Clark.”
“You the leader?”
“One of ’em…the others are laying over there,” Clark noted, pointing to where Ro
d and Allison still lay.
“It’s a shame…really. She was beautiful. I think our mole had his eye on her.”
“Pig,” Clark shot back, which prompted a quick knee to his chin. Blood, and a single front tooth, shot from his mouth, yet he held his tongue.
Suddenly Juanita’s voice came shouting from the darkness. “What’s this? Finn, what are you doing?”
“Interrogating a prisoner. You find The Normals?”
“Not yet. Have they talked?”
“We were just getting started,” Finn replied, sliding his knife from its sheath. “Clark here was just about to fill us in…weren’t you?”
Clark sucked a thick wad of blood and phlegm into his mouth and spat it on Finn’s hand clutching the knife. The Harvester snapped his wrist, sending the sputum back at Clark before punching him in the face with his free hand.
“Looks like you’ve got him tamed already,” Juanita chided, sarcastically.
“Oh…he’ll talk…”
“Hey…hey…I think I know,” shouted a woman, who had followed Pete into the day’s battle. She walked forward, her head bent and eyes low.
“What is you think you know?” Juanita asked.
“Well…I…I…”
Williams was instantly annoyed by the woman’s inability to articulate her message. “Spit it out…for heaven’s sake, what are you trying to tell us.”
“I heard motorcycles.”
“Motorcycles?” Finn asked. “And when did you hear motorcycles?”
“Some time ago…while we were still trying to take this building,” she replied, pointing to Old Main.
“Did you see them? Where? How many?” Williams blurted out, her blood pressure leading the way to an all out conniption.
The woman took a step back and replied, “I said I just heard ’em. I didn’t see anything…I swear.”
“Well, isn’t that just fine. You hear The Normals, and quite possibly half The Ward ride off into the sunset, and you don’t mention it…to anyone?”
“Sorry, I…I…I…”
“Sorry ain’t gonna cut it today, Sweetheart,” Juanita said, taking her pistol from her side. The woman turned to flee, but try as she might, she could not outrun the slug that found the back of her head, felling her instantly.
“A bit harsh, don’t you think?” Finn asked, a wide grin conflicting his retort.
“It’s been an incredibly trying day – don’t push me Finn,” she replied.
Turning their attention back to Clark, Juanita knelt to face him. “So…” she began.
Clark met Williams’ gaze with an intensity that was almost tangible. “You’re animals,” he bristled, turning his eyes to the woman Juanita had just executed.
Williams and Finn ignored the comment, redirecting the interrogation back to The Normals. “Is that what happened?” Juanita asked. “Did they sneak away on bikes?”
“Could be,” Clark replied, the slightest of grins touching the corners of his mouth.
“Where’d they go?”
“Haven’t the foggiest.”
“Mmmm hmmm,” Williams hummed.
“And the women,” Finn quickly interjected, “where are they?”
“We don’t care about the women. We need The Normals, Finn, that’s our priority right now,” Lady Williams shot back, angrily.
Finn smirked and looked around at the growing crowd of Harvesters that were filling The Quad. “They might not be important to you, but they are to us. Right boys?” Shouts of affirmation rose from his ranks, prompting more of Juanita’s militia to crowd in around her.
“Have it your way,” Juanita hissed, but at first light we track The Normals.
Finn pushed the comment aside and directed his next question at Clark. “So…Clark…where are they?” As he asked the question, Finn took the point of his knife and twirled it against Clark’s cheek, sprouting a small rill of blood.
The Ward Leader grimaced, neither backing away nor speaking the truth. “They’re all dead.”
“Ah…I don’t think so. I understand you Ward people more than you might suppose – you’d die before giving up your women. So, I’ll ask again. Where are they?” Finn moved the knife to Clark’s other cheek and repeated the same twirling torture. “Still nothing to say?” Finn asked, when Clark remained unmoved.
Stepping back, Finn drew his sidearm and aimed it at Clark’s forehead. He so desperately wanted – needed – Clark to cower, to cry, to do anything but show strength, however, he would remain disappointed. “You people make me sick,” Finn seethed.
Suddenly Juanita stepped in, sensing she was losing control. “Finn, back off. He might be the only chance we have of finding The Normals.”
Finn held his ground and did not budge, his weapon still cocked and aimed at Clark’s head. “You back off,” Finn shouted. “We want the women…NOW!”
Taken aback by the outburst, Williams asserted her authority by grabbing Clark around the neck and placing her pistol against his temple. “Give up the women or you die this second.”
“You don’t think I’ve been ready for this moment all day?” Clark spat at them.
Juanita’s grip on the pistol tightened, compelled to follow through with her gamble, when one of the other prisoners yelled out, “The tunnels.” Williams immediately removed the pistol from Clark’s head and Finn swept in on the lone stoolie.
“Tunnels? What tunnels?” Finn asked, breathlessly.
“Under the campus – there’s a series of steam tunnels. They’re hiding in the tunnels.”
“Show us,” Finn said, jerking the man to his feet and shoving him ahead with a half dozen of his men in tow. “Search them down and bring them back. I’ve got business to attend to here,” he said, peering at Juanita.
In that moment, a flicker of insight opened Williams’ eyes and she sensed what was coming; yet her thoughts were drawn to another. “Where’s Egan?”
“I wondered how long it would be before you asked where your precious mole was. He played his hand a short time ago and lost. Well…not entirely I guess…he’s still alive.”
“He’s hurt?”
“You might say that. Boys, bring him up.” A minute later, two strapping Harvesters carried Egan before Juanita and laid him at her feet. “We’ve done our best to keep him alive.”
“Oh, I can see that,” she replied, kneeling at his side. Juanita quickly assessed the man in front of her but never let the pistol slip from her grip. “Egan…Egan,” she called, hoping to see some glint of recognition.
The Quad bustled with those who had endured and survived the day. Men and women of all factions clustered together, some toting makeshift torches to light the area, while others were more comfortable hiding in the shadows.
“Listen Williams,” Finn began, a hint of resentment and disrespect to his tone. “We’ve come to a consensus…”
Juanita stood and cut him off, her own inflection anything but civil. “You have? And who is ‘we’?”
“Us,” Finn replied, waving his hands to indicate the array of Harvesters at his back. “Oh, and the Bradley crew…but they apparently couldn’t make it. Sad…really.”
“I see. So, you’re taking over? Is that what I’m to read into this?”
“Pretty much. We’d be happy to see you stay on, but we’re calling the shots. Take it or leave it,” Finn said, being careful to watch how Williams responded. He’d seen her in not so different circumstances and she was quick on the draw.
“You seem to have forgotten something.”
“What’s that?” Finn replied.
“Them,” Williams sneered, pointing at the host of soldiers covering her back.
“Oh, come now, Juanita. Your militia is no match for my Harvesters. They never have been – don’t have a taste for the killin’.”
“But they’ll do what I say,” she retorted quickly.
Juanita held her peace for a moment, considering her next words very carefully. “Finn, you’ve played your cards and
I see this going one of two ways, either we part as friends, calling it a learning experience until we meet again…and surely we will, or our little Mexican stand-off turns ugly and you die.”
Finn smiled, his teeth gleaming in the radiance of a burning torch. “I die?”
“Have it…”
Suddenly a wet cough sounded at Lady Williams’ feet and for an instant she took her eyes from Finn to stare at Egan. He was trying to speak, but could only manage gurgled, incoherent syllables. Hungry for what he had to say, Juanita knelt and for a moment ignored her troubles.
“I’m here,” she said, laying her hand upon his blood-soaked chest.
Egan rolled his head to the side and spat out a glob of thick, nasty blood. “I…I could hear you. I thought it…it was a dream.”
“No. I’m here.”
“Did I do good? Did I…”
“Yes, of course. I’m proud…” Juanita began, but before she could finish, a sense of guilt and loathsome shame engulfed her. The emotions descended upon her as Egan’s scars became apparent, strangely highlighted by the scene’s harsh lighting. In a flash she saw her son before her, his skin being meticulously carved to give the appearance of a Harvester’s attack. It was the only way, she told herself then, as she did now, kneeling at his side.
“Juanita…Mother…I’m…”
Finally Clark could take no more, the word ‘mother’ evoking the worst possible enmity within his soul and he knew they had to die. Bolting to his feet, he rammed ahead, taking Williams to the ground. He grappled for her pistol, but before he could wrench it free, Finn began to fire.
The first rounds kicked up dirt between Juanita’s knees but the second and third struck solid tissue and she moaned in agony. Clark ripped her pistol away; however, he was not the next to strike a deadly blow. Weapons on both sides of the struggle exploded in a barrage of lethal carnage. Williams’ militia had the forethought to retreat for cover, but in such tight quarters few made it to safety. The Harvesters, in their brutish way, retaliated, eager to settle some scores of their own.
Largely forgotten, the prisoners hit their stomachs and slithered away, trying desperately not to draw attention to themselves. Clark, on the other hand, was not finished; with pistol in hand he rolled a still-struggling Juanita on top of him and fired three rapid shots into Finn’s chest. Each slug pushed him back until he toppled to the ground.
The Lasting Hunger Page 37
