“What do you know about Jim Savage?” Leland asked.
Henry waited a moment, thinking, then answered, “Not a lot. Just that he had a pretty big following within the prison. Cult-like in a way. I always thought it was weird.”
“I think he’s going to be in Hope,” Leland said.
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m the one who caught him. And he wants revenge.”
“I hardly think he would stick around to kill you just because you caught him,” Henry said.
Leland thought about telling him the truth, but he had never actually spoken the truth out loud. Except during trials and under legal obligation, he hadn’t spoken a word about that night. Henry was safe, though, wasn’t he? Perhaps that was what drew Leland to Henry—the fact that he wouldn’t judge a man for making a mistake. Yet for all Leland knew, Henry could have experienced the same situation: a cop shooting his daughter or something, then perhaps he thought of a way to kill that cop and got caught. What if Henry Tash was just another man’s Jim Savage?
Leland didn’t say anything more on the matter. Henry didn’t think he had much reason to worry, but Leland’s legs moved faster still. His town was in trouble. His daughter was in trouble. He had spent his entire career going by his gut feeling and his gut was telling him to get home faster—that everything was not okay.
Dread. Worry. He could feel a trembling in his limbs that shouldn’t have been present in a trained officer. He pressed onward, in a full jog now, ignoring Henry’s protests. They had to get to Hope. If they took their time, it could all be too late. Leland hoped it wasn’t too late already.
Chapter Twenty
Stab, then slash. Aim below the ear, just under the jaw. Stab, then slash.
Gwen felt for the pocketknife in her hoodie pocket, calculating how she was going to get close enough to one of the prisoners. She needed to wait until she was alone with one of them. She wouldn’t be able to escape with more than one guarding her.
She looked at Bryson, who stood near the bars of the cell. He watched the prisoners, then looked back at her and whispered, “What are you going to do with it?”
“Try to get away,” she said.
“Then look for your dad?”
“That’s the only thing I can think to do.”
Bryson shook his head. “I don’t know if you’re going to get too far with a pocketknife. These guys have all the guns now.”
He wasn’t blaming her but she felt the sting anyway. The two of them had watched as Savage helped distribute her dad’s collection of guns and ammo to each of the prisoners one-by-one, giving her an idea just what size enemy they were facing. This was no small group of inmates. It was an army of them.
Since then she had continuously heard gunshots going off from various directions within the town. She didn’t know if some of the noises were neighbors putting up resistance or if the inmates were simply going on a murderous rampage. Either way, she had no doubt people were dying, and considering her guards never looked worried, she feared the worst.
She looked down at her wrist which throbbed. The torture could have been much worse and she cursed herself for giving up the weapons so easily. But it had been a calculated decision. She had made it out of fear, but it was still the most logical choice. The prisoners, particularly Jim Savage, were ruthless. They wanted an excuse to kill someone or torture a victim. Savage would have happily burned her hand to a stub and she would have ended up giving them the combinations anyway. Better to have two working hands and no guns than whatever the alternative would have been. Gwen didn’t know what her limit was—she didn’t know how much she could have really taken before she caved. She just hoped it was more than what she had already gone through. She felt weak, but she knew she wasn’t that weak. Perhaps this at least gave her the advantage over some of these thugs. They thought she wouldn’t be able to take pain. They thought she was too weak, too scared to try a real escape. Giving up the combinations so quickly was probably a good play for her.
Gwen and Bryson watched as their guards talked to each other on the other side of the room. Then, another prisoner burst through the door and declared that Savage wanted everyone moved to the library.
“Even them?” one of the guards asked, pointing at the two in the jail cell.
The three prisoners looked at Gwen and Bryson and the one that had come in shrugged. “I mean, I was told to come and tell you, so I’m assuming.”
Gwen let her hands fall to her sides as the guards approached. She noticed Bryson’s jaw clenching and she reached out and touched his hand. When he looked at her, she closed her eyes and shook her head just enough for him to see it. This was not the time to start a fight. These men were armed and angry. Bryson may not have been afraid of them and was probably ready for a fight, but it wasn’t one he could win and would only get them both killed.
Bryson seemed to understand her gesture—his muscles eased and the tension in his face fell. He wasn’t going to fight at this moment, but he was a McClure, after all. Fighting was in his blood. Gwen just hoped she was far enough away when it started so she wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire.
The library was three blocks away, which in Hope meant the other side of town. The sun was starting to creep up over the hills to the east and there was no sign of the power coming back on. No sign of a rescue. No sign of her dad.
She worried about him. She had no idea where he had gone, but it must have been too far for him to even show up in his office. She hoped he hadn’t run across a large group of these prisoners somewhere else. He never wore a bullet-proof vest and any one of these criminals would kill a cop the moment they saw the badge and uniform.
As Gwen and Bryson walked toward the library, she saw other people being forced out of their homes. Mrs. Johnson was ahead of them being shoved by an inmate with the butt of his rifle. Mr. Ingram had blood running down the side of his face, but was being led in the same direction. She couldn’t quite hear what he was saying through his tears. Something about his sweet, sweet Julia. Had they killed her?
When they got to the library, Bryson and Gwen saw a lot of bleary-eyed people who had no idea what was happening to them. Most of them wore only pajamas or shorts and undershirts.
Near the entrance of the library, Jim Savage met her eyes and smiled. “I want you to stay near the front,” he said. He called out to one of the inmates carrying an M4 rifle. “Blake,” he said. “I want you to guard this one personally. She goes nowhere unless I say. No one lays a finger on her unless I say, you got that?”
Blake seemed to hesitate, then looked at Savage as though he couldn’t believe he was being asked to take on guard duty. He didn’t say anything, but nodded and let out a deep breath.
The man was large and the rifle looked like a toy in his hands. One of the guards shoved Bryson forward and Gwen almost called out as he was forced away from her further back into the library. Bryson looked back at her, but disappeared among the crowd.
Gwen tried to get an estimated headcount. Maybe 200 people? More? They were stuck in the middle of the room like sardines, the oldest and most frail were given chairs to sit in, but there were only a few of those. What was Savage’s aim here? Why gather so many people and shove them into the library? Then it hit her. They were all hostages, and the benefit was two-fold. Not only was he gathering enough people to quell a resistance against him, but he wanted to bring her dad into a trap—give him a fat target to aim for. Anything to lure him in.
And I’m the main bait, she thought.
Gwen started moving toward the others, but she was quickly stopped by her guard who held onto her hoodie and pulled her backward. When she looked at him, he lowered his eyes and glared at her. It was clear she was not to be among everyone else. Savage wanted her near the front of the library so he could have easy access to her, so he could have her ready whenever her dad finally showed up.
She just wasn’t sure if her dad would ever show up. In brief moments throughout the nig
ht, she had tried to think about what was going on. The power outage didn’t make any sense to her, and it didn’t seem to make sense to anyone else either. When she listened to the prisoners talking, she had heard the same concern. In one conversation she even heard that the power outage was what freed them from the prison.
She also noted the prisoners’ devotion to Jim Savage. It was clear that he was their leader, and it was clear that he had a hold over them and they were more than happy to comply with his demands. Gwen knew if she were a prisoner, she wouldn’t have gone along with taking over a town, rather she would have kept on running. There was no doubt in her mind that Savage had a captivating personality. He was a good speaker. In an odd way, he could make you feel comfortable. There was something about him that was inviting. Other than the jumpsuit, he didn’t look like he had that lust for blood like the other prisoners.
That was partly what scared her the most—that a man could be so normal-looking yet so cold, so deadly. This man wanted nothing more in life than to destroy her dad, and he was using her and the rest of the town to accomplish his goal. He didn’t care who died in the process.
As the inmates brought in more townspeople, they started filling in around her. Gwen was situated near the front of the library near the entrance. She recognized an older woman who was sitting next to her. Miss Morgan. The woman was probably in her seventies and her eyes darted back-and-forth as she held her shawl close to her chest with both hands.
“I forgot to take my medicine last night,” she said over and over. “I forgot to take my medicine last night. I forgot to take my medicine last night…”
Gwen wasn’t sure if anyone else heard, but she could hear her perfectly. “What kind of medicine do you need?” she asked.
Miss Morgan looked at her with wide eyes, then her jaw fell open. “Where is your father?” She whispered. “We need him to get us out of this mess.”
Gwen wasn’t sure what she thought about that, considering her dad was only one person. He was a good sheriff, and he knew how to deal with bad people, but he wasn’t an army. He wasn’t a SWAT team.
“I don’t know where he is,” Gwen said. “What kind of medicine do you need?”
The woman shook her head. “It’s my heart medicine. I don’t know the name of it. But I’m not supposed to miss it. Ever since I was prescribed it, I’ve never missed it. But I don’t think I took it last night.” Sweat formed at the top of the woman’s forehead and she patted it with her sleeve. Gwen noticed that she was particularly pale, paler than she had remembered seeing Miss Morgan.
“What happens if you miss a night?”
Miss Morgan shook her head again. “I’m not sure. I just know I’m really not supposed to miss it.” She clutched her chest and took a deep breath. “I don’t think I would’ve thought about it if I didn’t feel so strange.”
Gwen wasn’t sure what to think. This woman looked next to death, but was it because she forgot her medicine last night, or was it because she had been dragged out of bed by men in prison jumpsuits carrying guns? That was enough to make anyone sweat and feel pain in their chest. Still, the paleness of her skin and the lack of color in her lips made Gwen think it was something more serious.
Gwen looked up at her personal guard and cleared her throat. She wanted to be as polite as possible because there was no reason to make the guard angrier than he already seemed. “Excuse me. Can I talk with you for a second?”
“I’m not talking to you.” His voice was deep and it made Gwen cower. This man wasn’t going to show compassion. He couldn’t care less if the woman died. He certainly wasn’t going to disregard an order by Savage.
Miss Morgan closed her eyes and buried her chin in her chest. She looked like she was in pain. Gwen felt for the knife in her hoodie, wondering how far she could make it out the door after stabbing her guard and making a run for it. Probably five feet, she thought. There were other guards in the library, harassing citizens, making jokes, slapping some on the back of the head. She hated what was happening to her town. It wasn’t that she had a fond devotion to them, or that she had a deep compassion for them in the least, but to see them pulled out of their homes and treated this way made her blood boil. If Gwen had learned anything from her father over the years it was that she hated a bully. And her town was full of them right now.
She set a hand on Miss Morgan’s shoulder. “You’re going to be okay. I’m going to get your medicine for you.”
Miss Morgan shook her head but didn’t say anything.
Gwen wasn’t sure what she needed to do, but she knew she needed to help Miss Morgan or something awful would happen. She tried to push thoughts of escape from her mind, knowing she couldn’t just leave someone in such a state as hers. Gwen leaned in close to her, asked her what her address was, and Miss Morgan whispered it back to her. Her house was two blocks to the west, on Marble Street, the medicine on the shelf in her downstairs bathroom. Without prisoners coming after her, Gwen could be there in less than a minute. But if she was going to be stealthy, it might take her a while.
First, she had to find a way out of the library.
Chapter Twenty-One
Leland had no idea what he would find once he reached Hope.
The sky was turning a pale shade of gray and soon the sun’s rays would poke through the tree branches. It was a new day and the sheriff had never been more unsure of himself. He walked with a fugitive, he had no way to communicate with other law-enforcement officers, and he had no idea if he was about to walk into a trap. Worse than that, he had no idea how his daughter was doing.
Still, in the last two miles, Leland and Henry had at least come up with a plan to reach the northwestern edge of town because there was a spot on a hill where they could see onto Main Street from far away. Leland hadn’t been up there in a while, but he thought it might be close enough to see what was happening in the town. If he saw men in jumpsuits, he would know there was trouble ahead. Part of him felt like it would be worse if he didn’t see anyone in jumpsuits because then he wouldn’t be able to confirm whether or not there was an enemy unless he was close. If he saw even one escaped prisoner, he would have to assume there were more. Even if he wasn’t able to confirm the number of enemies, he was still considering enlisting the help of the McClures just so he would have some back up.
Henry scratched the back of his head and let out a deep breath. “I can’t imagine any prisoners would stay here very long with such a major power outage,” he said. “If it’s as large scale as I think it is, then they would want to be getting to their families—figuring out a way to get to a safer place.”
Leland had seen videos and movies about EMPs, but they were always conspiratorial in nature and he didn’t often subscribe to such things. He knew that most conspiracy theorists were just people trying to cope with and make sense of the world. They were people who didn’t want to believe that the bad things that happened were just a matter of chaos and that they weren’t controlled. Leland had lived long enough and had seen plenty of tragedy to make him think there was no such thing as fate. There was nothing but chaos, and the only mission of mankind was to control the chaos as much as possible.
Leland had lost control of the chaos several times in his life, and he had come to the realization that the chaos itself was more powerful than his ability to stop it. Otherwise, he would have been able to save Travis.
He thought about that day almost every moment of his life. He wondered if there were things he should have said to his son, and if he should have hugged him or intentionally made conversation their last morning together.
As much as Leland tried to remember the early parts of that day, he couldn’t. Had he said kind words to his son? Had he tried to connect on any level or had he buried his nose into his newspaper as he normally did when his kids we’re going off to school. And before that day, when was the last time he had simply asked Travis how he was doing? His son had turned down many invitations from Leland to go camping, hunting, or fi
shing. Leland knew Travis had never been interested in those things. But those were the only things Leland knew how to do. He didn’t know how to connect with someone who only liked to play video games, who buried their nose in their phone, who was constantly drowning out his family with his headphones. How long had Travis been trying to escape the world?
The world was chaotic, but that didn’t mean they didn’t live in it. And if they had to live in it, then they might as well make the best of it, and do everything they could to keep the chaos from happening. That is what Leland had failed to do, and Travis was dead.
Melanie was dead, too.
Melanie’s death proved to Leland that not all chaos could be avoided. There was absolutely nothing he could’ve done to stop her breast cancer from killing her. That didn’t mean, however, that he didn’t regret not trying to pour himself into her. That he didn’t regret forgetting anniversaries and birthdays, or working when he should’ve been at home with her and the kids.
With both of them gone, he learned what it felt like to live with regret. What was he missing with Gwen and Cora now? After Travis had died, Leland promised himself that he wouldn’t let the same thing happen with his daughters. And yet, looking at his life now, nothing had really changed. The only thing that had changed was that Cora had moved off to Chicago, Gwen practically ignored Leland, and none of them had any idea how to deal with their losses.
Over the past few years, over the past few months, Gwen had slowly been slipping away from him. Leland had fallen into the same old habits. He used the excuse of giving her space. It was easy to say that because that’s what they both wanted. Teenagers will always tell you they want their space, and for you to encroach upon that is the ultimate violation.
Was it laziness or fear that kept him silent and withdrawn? He knew it would take effort to reach out to his girls. And he knew whatever meager effort he had made up to now was not enough. It was not working. It seemed that no matter what he did, Gwen slipped further and further away. But he wondered to himself if there was ever any way to bring her back. The trauma of losing a brother and losing a mother was probably too much for either of them to bounce back from. She was eighteen now and was about to begin her life without him. What would he be able to do in the next few months? In the back of his mind, he thought perhaps that her leaving would actually strengthen their relationship.
Fallen Earth | Book 1 | Remnants Page 11
