The After War

by Brandon Zenner

  When they left the woods, Nick felt relieved.

  Where the hell was Will this morning?

  They continued down Ridgeline Road with the expansive river in the near distance. A few of the mansions and spectacular homes that dominated the riverfront property in Fairview began to appear. This was the uninhabited section of Alice. It was still within the defensive perimeter, and the plans had been for the senior members of Alice to one day take up residence in the many large homes that dotted the shore, but as of now, the homes were unoccupied.

  “Are we leaving Alice?” Nick asked.

  “No. In fact, we’re approaching our destination.” Karl leaned forward, peering out the windshield.

  “Here, Mr. Rothstein. Here.” Karl pointed.

  Mark slowed. “Yes, sir.”

  He turned the wheel, and before them was a long and straight driveway shooting to a mansion that dominated the skyline. A dozen or so Red Hands worked along the path, cutting back the bushes and transforming the lawn.

  “Where are we?” Nick tried to see beyond the hedges to the acre-sized plot of land beyond.

  Karl turned from the front seat. “Where are we, you ask? You, Nicholas and Stephanie, are home.”

  They fell silent.

  “I had my men restore the power, and as you can see, they are making the lawn and yard a more habitable environment for a man of your status. You are the general now, Sir Byrnes, and should live the life befitting of one. With rank comes power, and with power comes pleasure.”

  Stephanie’s excitement bubbled over.

  “Are you serious?” She glowed. “This is … are we going to live here?”

  “Correction,” Karl said. “You already live here. A palace fit for a king and a queen.”

  The car drove straight to a circular driveway before the mansion and parked. Mark Rothstein got out and opened the door for Nick and Stephanie. The house was gigantic. Nick could not imagine how many bedrooms were inside, and the yard was vast in either direction on a field of rolling grass. There was even a tennis court on the side behind a tall chain-link fence.

  “What do you think, Sir General?”

  Nick looked around. “I think you should have told me about this.”

  “How can a gift be considered a gift if it is not a surprise? There is no reason to be upset. I do believe you will find the house more than adequate.”

  “Adequate? It’s huge! Look at the size of it; why in the world would you think that Stephanie and I would need all of this space?”

  “It is your home,” Karl explained, “but it is also our new office. A better office than that awful little school. There’s a whole wing set aside for you, completely private. And look up there.” Karl pointed to a broad plate glass window near the roof, three stories high.

  “That’s the attic,” he said. “It’s a complete house in itself with a kitchen and walk-in bathroom. It has floor-to-ceiling windows on three of its sides looking out over the yard, the gardens, and the river in the rear.”

  “We’re far from the center of town. I’m not sure how safe it would be living here.”

  “We are well behind the front line, Nicholas. And behind the house is an old lighthouse you might have seen driving in.”

  Nick nodded. He had seen the top of a pointy structure towering out from above the house.

  Karl continued. “It was never a real lighthouse, but had been constructed as an observation deck, looking out over the river and the property. We’ve fortified the walls and manned it with a sniper and a machine gun nest. In the yard, we’ll put up a fence and dig a few trenches—nothing major—but nobody will break through. Now come, follow me.” Karl walked toward the front door. Stephanie took off ahead of them, disappearing behind the doorway.

  “This is all well and good,” Nick said, turning to Karl, “but no more surprises. If you want to do something like this again, you make sure I’m aware. I need to know these sorts of things in advance. Besides, we have more pressing issues to attend to.”

  “You’re referring to Priest Dietrich, I presume?”

  “Yes. I don’t know how much longer the people in town will put up with the curfew. Their discontent is growing louder by the hour.”

  For a moment, the ever-present smile vanished from Karl’s face, and he turned to Nick with darkness in his eyes. “You should not trouble yourself with matters that do not concern you. Let me worry about controlling the people of Alice, and you go on continuing to be the general. Understood?”

  He pressed his body close to Nick, and Nick could feel the heat from his breath. He did not respond.

  Then Karl broke away, slapping Nick on the back and issuing a laugh. Nick flinched.

  “Come, my boy,” Karl said. “Come look at the house my men have tidied up for you. We’ve put together a welcoming present inside. Bottles of the finest liquor, boxes of cigars, chocolates, and fresh preserves.”

  Nick stepped toward the door, and Karl stopped. “Go on ahead. I need to speak to Mr. Rothstein for a moment. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Nick stood in the doorway.

  Stephanie called to him. “Nick? Nick, come on!”

  He turned and vanished inside.

  Karl spun to face his lieutenant.

  “Mark,” he hissed. The red-bearded man snapped to attention.

  “Sir?” Mark adjusted the rosewood machete on his belt so his palm rested on the handle.

  “Where the hell is Dietrich?”

  “The last scout reported Priest Dietrich and his men have left Masterson, but they’re still two states over.”

  Karl’s face turned a boiling red.

  “Jesus Christ. He was supposed to be here two days ago. What the hell is going on?”

  Mark looked grim. “Things … didn’t go as planned in Masterson, sir. As you know, the enemy force numbered well over what our intelligence reported. When the Priest arrived things were in bad shape, but he’s mustered the men. Masterson is conquered.”

  “I damn well know that, Mr. Rothstein.”

  Mark swallowed.

  “How many casualties?”

  “Ninety or so, I believe.”

  “You believe?” Karl stepped toward Mark, his tall, lean body towering above Mark’s wide frame. “You are supposed to know—not believe.”

  “Y-yes, sir. The number is ninety-seven, sir. From the last report.”

  “So when the hell will they arrive?”

  “A forwarding detachment of a hundred men left Masterson two days ago and should be arriving in Alice soon—tomorrow night. The rest of his forces will arrive shortly after.”

  “You know I don’t like it when a plan doesn’t go exactly as it should.”

  “Yes, sir. I do.”

  Karl sighed. He thought of his gray-haired lieutenant general—the Priest. It was hard to envision that the man was allegedly an ordained minister before the war, as his bloodlust was extreme. It was common for Dietrich to cite whole verses of scripture while knee-deep in battle and gore.

  Karl’s face relaxed. “No bother,” he said. “This doesn’t change a thing; it’s just a slight delay. Never dwell in the past, Mr. Rothstein.” Karl Metzger looked straight into his lieutenant’s eyes. “Concentrate on how to better the future. The forward detachment of Dietrich’s men will be enough to calm the gripes of these fucking peasants in Alice.”

  Chapter 44

  Moonlight

  Simon placed a few small logs on the fire now that the night had grown dark. They would keep the flames small, although no one ever ventured into the gardens this late. And even if they did, it would be difficult to see the gathering’s location in the center of the cornfield where the stalks had grown near six feet in height.

  A circular clearing was set around an old stone well beside a newer waterspout, with plenty of room for the congregation to gather. The group now consisted of Simon Kalispell, Jeremy Winters, Bethany Rose, Frank Morrow, Pat O’Hern, and the most recent additions from the round table, Mart
in Howard and Chris Lockton.

  And there was a new inductee that night, Will Holbrook. Will had been fired that same day—not that it was either surprising or unwelcomed. He had explained to Simon earlier that evening that he had hated working for Nick Byrnes, even before Tom Byrnes was killed. Nick took Will’s quiet nature as a sign of his abiding loyalty, but that was not the case. Nick treated him like his personal servant, his slave. He seemed to get a kick out of making Will stand at attention for hours on end, and ordered him to keep his uniform pressed and his boots shined without so much as a spot. No one in Alice put as much emphasis on their uniform or appearance as Nick Byrnes—it was a compulsion. He berated Will for his own personal enjoyment, just to see his authority respected.

  Martin Howard was the first politician to join the group after speaking to Frank Morrow. It was no mystery that Martin Howard and Nick Byrnes didn’t see eye to eye, so accepting him wasn’t a hard decision. Martin later introduced Chris Lockton after listening to Chris’s complaints about the curfew and his openly questioning Nick during a speech when Nick announced the disintegration of the round table in favor of a newly elected congregation to take its place.

  Nick had stood before the podium, addressing the townspeople, when Chris Lockton spoke up from the front row. “With a transition of leadership comes revision and change, yes, but why must it be revolutionary?”

  With this and the noticeable agreement stirring in the crowd, Nick answered in a calm voice, despite the fire in his eyes. “Chris, this is not a revolution—not in the slightest. This is a minor modification, a time to reconstruct and advance our development and progression as a society in whole.”

  “But we are still only in the infancy of our establishment, and the laws and ways of our town have helped construct our society. A complete reversal in policy and representation at this point could be disastrous.”

  Nick smiled. “I am only in favor of doing what is best for Alice—for everyone. I will take your words into utmost consideration. If newly elected officials are not what the town wants, I will not force elections to take place. I leave it to you, the people—the heart of Alice—to make the decision. For now, the round table shall remain in place. In the weeks to come, we will hold a general vote to see if the people want a change of representation.”

  The crowd applauded these words, nodding their approval. Ultimate power—controlling the balance of all matters both big and small—was a tremendous responsibility and one which Nick Byrnes reveled in. The man was a natural; his words could calm the crowd or stir them into frenzy. He was a born leader of the worst kind.

  Chris Lockton’s words that night had caught the attention of Simon and the rest of the group.

  “Today—just hours ago,” Simon said as everyone found seating around the fire, “we witnessed Nick Byrnes deliver a speech where he announced the greatest threat yet to us all. He took away our means for survival. He took away our weapons. And he did so under the guise of friendship, security, and the town’s overall advancement. What’s scarier yet is that the majority of people, our friends, don’t see the danger in him stripping us of our power. They applauded Nick’s speech and handed over their weapons without the slightest reservation.”

  Frank shook his head. “I don’t think anyone is being fooled, Simon, or supportive of what Nick is doing. They’re scared. Terrified. This witch-hunt for the informant has been a source of constant fear. Margaret Alton—you all know Margaret, right?”

  Everyone nodded. Margaret was in charge of the supply house and rationed out clothing, blankets, jackets, socks—everything.

  “She’s gone missing, taken in for questioning.”

  Margaret wasn’t the first person to go missing. They were disappearing night and day. Vanishing. Gone. Nick stated that the individuals were being brought in for questioning. Nothing more. Just a conversation. Some were helping the cause, he said. Others were being held in suspicion of giving information to the enemy, causing Tom Byrnes’s death.

  “And we don’t have to be reminded about Justin Waters,” Frank added.

  Everyone grew quiet. Justin was a good friend, especially to Frank and Simon, who had hunted with the young Ranger numerous times.

  It had happened only two days ago, during another one of Nick’s now-nightly speeches. From the podium, Nick had announced the disintegration of the Rangers.

  Justin called out, “You’re taking away our security? Our hunting for food? You’re dismantling the eyes and the ears of Alice, leaving us vulnerable.”

  Nick answered with a smile, looking out over the sea of worried faces, “No, no, dismantling the Rangers will not leave us vulnerable. I am only doing it to protect you, to keep you from harm’s way. Let Karl’s men do the hard and dangerous work. Besides, has anyone gone hungry since they have arrived?”

  It was true; Karl and his men had brought a small warehouse’s worth of food and liquor into Alice, keeping the townspeople well fed and lubricated.

  After Justin’s outburst, he had gone missing. The next day it was rumored that Justin was being considered a possible suspect in the death of the beloved Tom Byrnes. Of course, nothing was made official. The townspeople had grown mute as stone. Submissive. Willing to go along with whatever Nick said.

  Simon continued, “Nick says it’s only logical for us to hand over our weapons. He says it’s dangerous and unnecessary for the people to be walking around armed like it’s the Wild West. Civility, he called it. A mark of a civilized society. But may I remind you, he spoke those words while resting his palm on the handle of that Smith and Wesson revolver of his.”

  “Not to mention,” Frank Morrow cut in, “that if we don’t turn in all of our weapons in the next twenty-four hours, we’re threatened with punishment.”

  Following the speech, a group of his wild-eyed Dragoons had circled the townspeople, aided by the Red Hands, collecting weapons from the audience. Any additional firearms were to be brought to Alice’s police department within twenty-four hours. Most everyone had their own assortment of personal firearms, not supplied from Alice’s armory, and these too were expected to be turned over.

  Pat O’Hern was the next to speak, his voice crackling like the fire, “Where the hell is General Driscoll?”

  Nobody had an answer; yet, everyone had that same question.

  Bethany looked at the ground, then her voice squeaked, “I … umm …” Everyone turned to her. She kicked at the dirt.

  “What’s that?” Simon asked.

  “It’s … nothing. I’m sorry.” She shook her head.

  After a moment, Frank spoke.

  “I heard Metzger was a criminal,” he said. “Before the war. I heard it from his own men. They say he’s a crazy son of a bitch. Really crazy. A serial killer or something. They could be bullshitting me, but they came off convincing. His men talk, brag even, about the number of people Karl’s killed. They say he’s unpredictable, liable to explode at any given moment—even against his own men.

  “They told me a story, and honest to God, they were laughing as they told it—about a young soldier out on a hunt who came back empty-handed for weeks. One day Karl just walks up to him during lunch and whacks him over the head with a rock. For no other reason than he was hungry. The boy sat there slumped over in a chair with his brain hanging out. They all turned their heads, just left him there. Karl ordered him removed when the stench and flies got to bothering him.”

  The group shook their heads, their eyes staring at the fire. Stories like this were becoming common, and it was impossible to determine whether any of them were true. If they were true, then the people of Alice needed the aid of General Driscoll without delay.

  The meeting went on until the fire grew low and their supply of wood was depleted. The night felt darker than it actually was among the tall corn stalks.

  “Well,” Frank Morrow said. “I think we’re done for the night. It’s well past curfew, so let’s get home safely. We’ll meet tomorrow, and come up with a plan to rea
ch General Driscoll.” He stood and stretched, and the rest of the group followed.

  Simon whispered to Bethany, “Is everything all right? What were you going to say earlier?”

  “It’s …” She swallowed. “I can’t,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Are you okay?” He looked at her with concern, and then took her elbow, leading her to the edge of the gathering. “Bethany, what’s wrong? You can tell me.”

  “Oh Christ,” she said. “I just can’t keep it secret. I can trust you, Simon. I know I can. We’ve talked a lot since we’ve met. I’ve told you things … things about George’s death that I’ve never told a soul.”

  Simon nodded. “I’ve told you a lot too. Only a few people know about my parents, and my journey to get here.”

  “That’s why I think if there’s anyone in Alice that I can trust, it’s you. But please, you have to keep this a secret. Do you promise? I might … be able to help.”

  “Of course I promise.” He looked around, making sure they were out of earshot. The rest of the gathering was still chatting, all except for Will Holbrook, who stood with his hands in his pockets.

  “Simon,” Bethany whispered. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I’m … I’m General Driscoll’s niece.”

  “Wait—what?” Simon’s voice rose.

  “Shhh. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I promised my uncle that I wouldn’t tell anyone—anyone.”

  Simon considered this, considered the consequences of Bethany being related to General Driscoll. “He’s right, your uncle. Don’t tell anyone else. We’ll talk about this at home.”

  Simon’s head felt like it was buzzing. Jeremy prepared to lead the way out of the cornfield with a flashlight, and everyone gathered single file to follow. As they stood in a line, the shadowy form of Will Holbrook appeared before Simon.

  “Simon?” His voice was low.

  “Yes?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Not here. Tonight, when we get out of the field.”