In the distance, the foghorn blared.
Chapter 41
Karl Metzger
Karl Metzger rode into Alice on the back of his buckskin horse.
His lieutenant, Mark Rothstein, rode at his side, heeling a brilliant chestnut stallion along, its muscles rippling beneath its broad shoulders. The short, stout man had a great red beard down to the center of his chest, streaked with gray. One hand rested on the rosewood handle of an ornate machete.
To Karl’s right rode his other lieutenant, a man they called Sultan, his real name unknown even to Karl. Sultan’s slim body rode straight-backed atop his jet-black stallion, his own skin just as dark. With each step of his horse, his long dreadlocks bounced over his shoulders. He scanned the land before him with an ever-present smile on his face.
Riding beside Sultan was Dietrich—the Priest. The Priest looked somber, sitting atop his Palomino horse, the color similar to Karl’s stallion and similar to his own gray-white hair. The Priest hummed to himself, adjusting the black eye patch that covered one eye.
Behind the riders marched a small procession of soldiers, all well-armed and advancing in two columns. Between the two columns, five prisoners were forced forward, their wrists tied behind their backs so tight that blood seeped from around their wire bindings. Gags had been stuffed into their mouths, and strips of cloth covered their eyes. They wore filthy rags, and two of the prisoners were barefoot and limping with bloody feet. These five men were all that remained of the force that had attacked Alice.
They were led to the dark prison cells in the basement of Alice’s police department and put under guard. Many townsfolk camped outside the building for just a chance to lay witness to these miscreants. Anger boiled so thick in the air that many felt they might not be able to stop themselves from tearing the flesh from these men’s bones if presented with the opportunity to do so.
As evening approached and the prisoners shivered in their damp, pitch-black cells, Nick Byrnes sat alone on a folding chair in a small office on the second floor of Alice’s volunteer fire department.
His wristwatch sat coiled in the palm of his hand, the bands hanging below his fingers. The second hand kept ticking away: tick, tick, tick …
The barren office was beginning to grow dark as the last ray of sunlight became blocked behind the tall trees in the distance. The air in that room was thick with stagnant dust, illuminated in the shaft of sunlight from the room’s one window, motionless, as if time did not exist there.
Nick’s dinner plate sat undisturbed and cold on the carpeted floor. He looked up from his watch, letting his eyes glance over the drab interior of this unused room. The walls were paneled in wood, and stacks of folding chairs lined the wall behind him. Next to the door was a painting of a cabin in the woods, which might have come with the frame. The room was uncomfortable and seemingly forgotten, but there was something in the ugliness that made Nick feel relaxed, like he could disappear in there and let the woes of the world proceed without him.
From outside the window, Nick could see the stage and the woods bordering it in the rear of the firehouse. There were several men on the stage adjusting the podium and testing the microphone. He could not see the gathered crowd, but knew that every single resident of Alice was there, waiting for him.
They were waiting for assurance. They were waiting to hear that Alice was safe. They were waiting to know justice would be served to those found guilty. The air was alive with anger. The people wanted blood, and Nick was going to give it to them.
Nick’s reflection looked back at him in the window. Despite not sleeping for the past twenty-four hours, he looked okay. His hair was combed back, showing his temples in dramatic fashion. He had not shaved that morning, and the stubble on his face cast a dark shade with a slight silvery hue that he thought would look good if grown into a beard. It was time he showed his age, his power, his wisdom, and his strength.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was now or never; the crowd was growing impatient. He inhaled deeply and opened his eyes.
Take what is yours, Nick. This is your time … take what is yours.
He stood from the chair, adjusted his pistol-belt, and walked to the door.
Outside, Will Holbrook jumped to his feet as Nick walked past without stopping. He went down the hallway to the staircase.
Four men were waiting downstairs beside the glass doors leading outside—Karl Metzger, Mark Rothstein, Sultan, and the Priest. They wore similar dark fatigues, and Karl stood the tallest of them all, his back straight and his arms clasped behind his back. His head had been shaven near bald, and his eyebrows looked bushy and large in comparison.
“General.” Karl bowed and smiled as Nick stepped to the landing. “General, we follow your lead. Mr. Rothstein.” He turned to his lieutenant, “If you would, please.”
Mark Rothstein moved on quick feet, despite what his large body would suggest, and opened the fire door for Nick to pass. Nick walked outside.
The distance from the fire door to the stage was short, and the sea of people gathered before it grew quiet as Nick approached the podium. Seated behind the podium were the men of the round table, as his father had called them, and they stood as Nick readied himself to speak. Karl Metzger and his lieutenants followed Nick onstage and stood by his side.
For a moment that seemed like an eternity, Nick was silent, his palms resting on the podium. When he lifted a hand, the low murmurs in the crowd ceased. The crowd stretched so far back that many stood in the road before the firehouse and could not be seen.
Take what is yours, Nick … this is your time.
“People of Alice.” His deep voice boomed from the loudspeakers. “Today, the world is a different place.” He paused so that the crowd could absorb the immensity of these simple words, and then continued, “This morning I performed a task previously unthinkable; I sent an emissary north to Zone Red to inform our allies that our beloved leader … my father … had been killed in a ruthless attack against this great town of ours.
“Following the bombing that destroyed the reconnaissance office and killed our general, along with six soldiers who lost their lives, a well-armed force attacked our front line. Nine more men perished as a result of that battle, and there would have been many more if not for this man who now stands beside me.” Nick stepped back, gesturing to Karl Metzger, who bowed solemnly.
“This man,” Nick continued, “and a small contingency of his fighting force were camped nearby due to a meeting they were scheduled to have with both General Tom Byrnes and myself. When they heard the explosions and gunfire, they marched to our aid, flanked our enemy, and delivered upon them a quick death. Karl Metzger, too, lost men in the melee. We thank you, Karl, for your help and sacrifice. We mourn your losses.”
Nick faced the crowd.
“It was the enemy’s belief that we would crumble without the aid of our reconnaissance office and without the leadership of our beloved Tom Byrnes. It was also the attackers’ intention to target me—to eliminate both general and lieutenant, father and son. But the enemy got two things wrong.
“First, the size of our fighting force, the number of men and women living in Alice and defending her lines. The second and most important factor was the extent of our resolve—the extent to which we are willing to defend our town and our lives. They thought we would crumble. They thought Alice was weak. They thought we would break, but they were wrong. Let it be heard by both friend and foe that an attack on Alice or any of its people will be met with extreme retaliation.”
With those words, the crowd stirred. A few townspeople clapped. Nick’s voice rose in pitch.
“As many of you know, the enemy did not work alone. Someone in Alice is responsible for supplying them with information. For one, the exact time and moment that Tom Byrnes and I would be visiting the reconnaissance office. It is believed that whoever divulged this information did so for their own personal gain, as they evidently lied to the enemy about our numbers
and defenses. Let me make myself clear, whoever you are and wherever you may be, listen to my words; you will not destroy Alice. You will not hurt our people. You will not destroy our hearts, our minds, our wills.
“I have assembled a task force to investigate General Byrnes’s assassination to the fullest extent. The guilty party can be assured that you might run, you might hide, you might cower in the night, or you might stay here in Alice, confident that your heinous secret will never be revealed—but let me tell you this, you will never know a restful night’s sleep for as long as you may live. We will hunt you down.” Nick paused, his finger in the air. “You will not know safety for the rest of your days. You will find only dismay and death—a grueling, unimaginable death that will befit the severity of your crime. Your days are numbered. Oh by God, I swear it.”
The crowd erupted in applause, which Nick attempted to quell with his open palms.
“Know this,” he shouted. “Know this: you may have killed our leader, but the torch has been passed, and those who choose to oppose Alice will be at odds with the beast which you have awoken.
“We must recover both our town and our spirits, and it will not be entirely up to me to fix. It will be up to you, the people, to keep your chins high no matter how dark the night may seem. The world may be a different place now, but Alice is still safe because our enemy has failed. They have not and cannot break our spirits; destroy our pride. They will not best us in combat.
“As I stated earlier, both my father, General Byrnes, and I had a meeting scheduled with this man, Karl Metzger. It was General Tom Byrnes’s wish that Karl Metzger’s men integrate with us here in Alice to help fortify our defenses and prove that our soldiers are not only a capable fighting force, but the best fighting force in all of the known United States. In all of the world. We are going to honor General Tom Byrnes’s final wish by following his plan for integration.
“As a show of good will, Karl Metzger has personally delivered the five prisoners captured from the attack for us to do with as we see fit. These five men have done nothing to proclaim their innocence, but have only further fueled their desire to cause us harm by laughing in the face of our interrogators and stating their happiness over the death and destruction that their actions have caused. They have been found guilty of murder and will be executed tomorrow morning at dawn before the memorial for General Tom Byrnes and the many others who gave their lives so that Alice may live to see another day.”
At this, the crowd roared with thunderous ovation.
“Karl,” Nick shouted over the cheering. “Karl Metzger and his men are welcome in our community, for they are our allies and number a great deal of strong, fighting men. They will help build our walls, line our trenches, and reinforce our posts. We owe them a debt of gratitude and a warm welcome into our beloved home.”
Nick stepped aside, clapping his own hands as the crowd acclaimed. He shook the calloused palm of Karl Metzger, followed by Mark Rothstein, Sultan, and Priest Dietrich. As the crowd settled, Karl approached the podium, showing a mouthful of straight-white teeth.
“People of Alice …” His voice bellowed. “Mr. Nicholas Byrnes, may I thank you for this most courteous of welcomes. Yes—a new day has dawned … and a bright day it will be. I promise you this—my men will never tire; we will never turn our backs on an adversary, but will relish in facing any hurdles head-on.
“I am humbled to feel at home amongst such brave and generous people. Tomorrow, we will mourn, for we have much to mourn over. You have lost a great man and leader, and I offer you my true condolences. Tomorrow, I will mourn along with you. And in the evening, when the sun sets and we have said our heartfelt goodbyes, we shall celebrate the coming of a new day. Will you not join me in celebration? The dawning of Alice is upon us—this turning of the tide. We will make Alice a better place, a safer place, a place where mankind will flourish and grow. This I promise to you all: you are now safe, and you are in good hands. I will give each and every one of you the happiness and peace of mind that you deserve. We shall celebrate an even greater Alice—one led by someone with the courage and strength to live up to the standards that General Tom Byrnes has set.”
Karl turned to Nick.
“Mr. Nicholas Byrnes, it is a great honor for me to formally address you with the title befitting the leader of this great town. People of Alice, please welcome your new general, Nicholas Byrnes.”
Karl lifted his open arms, then turned to shake Nick’s waiting hand. They stood in the roar of applause, waving out over the sea of ecstatic people.
Chapter 42
Steel Revolvers
The five prisoners were led out of the police station single file, looking like caged animals—terrified, wild, bewildered. Their wrists were bound and a thick rope trailed from one man to the next. Cloth gags were again stuffed in their mouths.
They were little more than pulverized meat hanging on bones, already rotten.
Nick led the procession atop a brown and white pinto stallion given to him by Karl Metzger, who rode by his side. Behind them rode the lieutenants, Mark Rothstein, the ever-smiling Sultan, and the Priest. Karl’s buckskin horse snorted and its lips wavered as the prisoners were brought forth from their jail cells. The sea of people now hushed to stare in awe at these vile men who came blinking into the morning sun.
And then the crowd stirred.
A dozen of Karl Metzger’s men surrounded the prisoners, led by a young sergeant named Ryan Pechman. The soldiers closed them off using tall black spears fashioned from steel posts taken from a church’s fence with cords wrapped around them for handles. The spears rose over seven feet in height and, when held horizontally, they formed a makeshift cage around the men—not so much to keep the prisoners in, but to keep the crowd out.
Nick tugged the reins of his stallion, directing the grunting beast down Locust Avenue. The procession followed, making its way to the firehouse. Behind the column marched Nick’s Dragoons, and behind the Dragoons marched Karl’s mercenaries. Several men in Karl’s entourage held spears aloft with red strips of cloth tied below the sharpened points, creating ragged flags that fluttered in the wind.
Some in the crowd threw rocks and fistfuls of dirt at the prisoners, and by the time the guards had prodded the miscreants forth to reach Alice’s fire department, many were bleeding from deep lacerations.
When they reached the firehouse, Nick, Karl, and the two lieutenants dismounted their horses. The marching columns of men turned to form a barrier between the townspeople and the stage, which had been given a recent addition of a hastily put together gallows.
The prisoners were forced up the steps, prodded along with the points of the spears. The rope connecting one man to the other was cut, and large guards forced the condemned to stand on chairs placed below the dangling ropes. Two of the men had to be picked up and made to stand, as they thrashed about, attempting to speak around their gags. One looked to Nick and Karl in exasperation, opening his clasped hands.
As the guards slid the circled ends of the corded ropes over their faces, tightening the nooses around their necks before binding their ankles, Karl turned to Nick and whispered in his ear, “Quite a civility you’ve managed to attain here in Alice.” He chuckled, looking over the sea of people frothing with rage. “Looks as if we’ll have a proper execution this fine morning. The people are ripe for it.”
Nick stared at the prisoners through narrow eyes, then moved toward the podium, the palm of his hand resting on his sidearm. He stood stone-faced before the townspeople with the prisoners behind him quivering on the flimsy chairs. He waited until the crowd grew silent—and then he waited a moment longer. Even in the silence, the coming of violence could be felt as if it were something alive.
Nick spoke.
“Behind me stand the condemned. They have been charged with murder and found guilty of their crimes by a jury of their peers. They are sentenced to death by hanging. May God have mercy on their souls.”
Nick nodded to Kar
l and walked away from the podium.
Karl turned to Mark Rothstein and Sultan, giving them each a dramatic stare before nodding his head, and moved to stand beside Nick at the edge of the stage. The Priest walked before the condemned men, standing tall with his arms open wide and his head bowed as if he were conducting a symphony of the damned.
He spoke in a bellowing voice, “Most sacred heart almighty, I accept from Your hands whatever kind of death it may please You to send me this day with all its pains, penalties, and sorrows in reparation for all of my sins, for the souls in Purgatory, for all those who will die today and for Your greater glory. Amen.”
The Priest walked with echoing footfalls to stand beside the generals. Mark Rothstein and Sultan issued whispered orders, and the guards moved the podium off the stage so the condemned could be seen in full witness of the crowd.
Mark Rothstein stood behind the first man and kicked the chair out from under his feet. The man dropped and wiggled about like a fish on a hook. Mark proceeded to the next man, and then the next. When he came to the fourth man, he kicked, but the chair only budged. The man’s legs wavered and his knees buckled before straightening back out, and he cried out loud behind his gag. Mark kicked again, but the chair didn’t dislodge. Sultan reached his long arms around the man’s trembling knees, then Mark kicked a third time, and the chair splintered into pieces. Mark moved to the last man, who stood tall upon his chair, staring at his friends expiring by his side. Mark kicked.
All of the condemned now hung by their necks, dead or writhing about. The fronts of their pants grew dark as their bladders emptied. Nick watched as Karl leaned in close to his ear.
“They’re pissing themselves, Nicholas,” he whispered, his lips curled.
Time passed as the men swayed and twitched until they all hung motionless. The crowd remained stone silent. Guards brought the podium back out and Nick approached it.
The After War Page 30
