by Stasia Black
“Well come on, old man. You gonna help me out or you want me to cut you out of those damn things, too?” Arnie waved the bolt cutters at the straps, a little too close to Eric’s face for comfort.
“No, no,” Eric mumbled. “I got it.”
He unbuckled the seatbelt and toppled to the ground. Arnie just laughed his ass off. “Damn, you look funny in that banana suit, man.”
Eric looked down at himself. He was wearing a yellow prisoner’s jumpsuit. Because he was a prisoner.
And Arnie had just blown up a military police van to free him.
Arnie was always doing crazy shit. But this? This was so beyond…
“Arnie.” Eric grabbed his arm, finally climbing to his feet and out of the van. “They’ll lock you away for this. For fucking ever, man.”
But the crazy fucker just laughed. “Who?” Arnie held out his arms, gesturing around him. That was when Eric really took a good look at the country he’d been fighting over a decade to protect.
“What the…” Eric’s words trailed off and then he let out a horrified yelp and staggered backwards several steps.
Bodies.
There were dead bodies, just out in the open. Dead, decaying bodies.
Eric ran to the side of the road and threw up.
When he finished and wiped his mouth with his forearm, he gagged again. The smell. Oh fuck, that smell.
He shook his head. No. No, this was wrong. This wasn’t America.
In the distance was a strip mall. Or rather, what was left of a strip mall. The glass of every single storefront was broken. Looted items were strewn across the parking lot, along with more bodies.
There were burnt cars, some still smoking, and dirt and filth were everywhere.
So maybe this was some Third World country. Eric had seen war zones that looked like this. Trashed cities in Syria. Pakistan. Central Africa.
But not America.
“It can’t be,” he whispered.
“Sorry pal,” Arnie came up and slapped him on the back. “They’re calling them Death Riots. People go fucking loco when all their women get sick and start dying.”
Women.
Connie and Sophia. Suddenly it didn’t matter what the fuck had happened in this little slice of hell. Eric only cared about what was going on in Kyle, Texas.
He grabbed Arnie’s forearm. “Where’s your car?”
“Now you’re talking.” Arnie led him a little ways down the road to his truck.
That ten hour drive down to Central Texas was the longest of Eric’s entire life.
If only he’d taken a plane. All flights were grounded by then, but fuck, he and Arnie could have stolen one. A little commuter plane? A helicopter? Anything.
Nowadays it would seem like a no-brainer. Jesus, they would have had their pick! It was before the EMP attacks.
But back then, fuck, none of them had any idea they were only days away from it all coming crashing down. Civilization its fucking self.
There were still rules. At least Eric had thought so. So he’d driven in that goddamned truck. Only driven twenty miles above the speed limit, for Christ’s sake. As if any of the police gave a fuck about traffic tickets at that point.
But no. He was an escaped felon, he kept telling Arnie. If they got stopped and anyone looked him up, he’d only be that much later getting to Connie and Sophia. So twenty above it was.
Arnie had already overridden the self-driving truck’s safety protocols so he could speed on his way to get Eric. Why hadn’t Eric just let him program it to go as fast as it could the whole way back?
Or what if the rioters had decided to break into the house one day later? Or one hour later?
One fucking hour could have been the difference between life and death.
If only he’d fucking driven faster.
If only.
But he didn’t.
So when he and Arnie stopped in front of his old house on Blueberry Lane, it was to find his front door kicked in, his wife brutalized and left for dead in the center of their living room.
“Connie!” He’d rushed in and crashed to his knees on the floor beside her. He pulled her up into his arms. Her face was barely recognizable because of all the blood.
But she was still breathing. Somehow, some way, she’d lived through it all, something that would haunt Eric forever. She’d felt every single, agonizing moment of all that had been done to her.
“I’ll look for Sophia,” Arnie said, disappearing down the hallway.
Eric nodded, praying for Travis to find his daughter and at the same time begging, Oh God, please don’t let Sophia be here. Don’t let her have seen any of this.
“So—” Connie croaked, her voice barely audible, blood bubbling out of her mouth along with her spittle.
Eric coughed out a sob and rocked her body. “Shh, it’s okay. It’ll be okay. I’ll get you to the doctor and—”
But Connie shook her head, features crumpling in pain. “Soph— Stair— Stairs.”
Eric pulled back, devastated. “Where’s Sophia, baby?”
“Stair.” Connie choked and coughed, specks of blood flying all over the white undershirt Arnie had bought Eric from a gas station somewhere in Oklahoma.
She whispered something Eric couldn’t hear, her eyes falling closed.
“Connie! No! Connie! Stay with me. Stay with me, baby. Where’s Sophia? Just tell me where she is and then we’ll all get in the car and go to the hospital and—” He cut off as soon as she opened her eyes again, not wanting to miss anything she said.
“Closet,” she finally gasped, and then she reached up with what must have taken all of her strength and grasped his forearm. “Promise me. Protect… her.” Gasp. “Protect.”
Eric nodded, tears clogging his eyes so badly he could hardly see her face. “I swear it. Whatever it takes I’ll protect our little girl. I’ll fight for her. I’ll steal for her. I’ll kill for her. And I’ll die for her. I swear to you that I’ll protect her. No matter what. I swear.”
With that he pulled Connie to his chest, whispering his promise over and over, kissing her forehead, her hair, just holding her.
When he pulled back, knowing he needed to go get Sophia, he wanted to pretend he’d find his wife still breathing.
She wasn’t.
So he laid her gently and reverently on the floor and covered her with a blanket. And then he ran as fast as his legs could carry him upstairs, first to the master bedroom closet. Sophia wasn’t there.
Then he went to her bedroom and there, huddled in a ball in the very back of her closet, behind a stack of suitcases, was his little girl.
She’d looked up at him with those big, beautiful brown eyes, the same as her mother’s that had closed forever only moments earlier.
“Daddy, I knew you would come and save us from the bad men.”
How could the same world hold the cruelty of what had happened downstairs and also the pure beauty of his child’s faith?
He swept her up into his arms, squeezed her tight to him, and swore to himself, he’d never ever let her go.
You weren’t any more real than a prince in a story book. Except they didn’t make her cry.
Eric dropped his head into his good hand, and then raked his fingers roughly through his hair.
“Fuck!” he shouted as he grabbed the oil lamp and stalked out into the hallways, all of which earned him more than a few looks from the group of people standing in the narrow passage outside.
He needed to go find Drea. Of course, he’d been paying only the faintest attention when Sophia showed him around last night but after asking a few people here and there, he found his way to the main gathering cavern. There were three huge mountainous formations that stood like ancient kings fifty feet high in the center of the cavern and a track had been worn around them. People were gathered all along the worn track, several oil lanterns casting shifting light to illuminate the cavernous hall.
He knew he was in the right place because he
heard Drea’s voice echoing off the dripping, waxy walls long before he got to the actual room itself.
But she wasn’t the only one talking. There were lots of voices. Shouting too.
What the hell had Drea gotten herself into now? He hurried his pace.
“No. How many times do I have to tell you?” It was the low, clipped voice of General Cruz, and as Eric rounded the last corner, he saw he was right.
General Cruz and Drea were in a standoff, a crowd circled all around them. Not just a crowd though. No, behind General Cruz stood a large group of his soldiers, and behind Drea, the women she’d rescued from the compound. More from Jacob’s Well and those who’d originally been hiding in the caves when they’d first arrived were gathered too.
This was not good.
“The Black Skulls are allied with Arnold Travis,” the General continued. “That alliance was powerful enough to topple the San Antonio territory and murder a president. Now he has the army that was stationed at the joint army and air force bases there, too. All loyal to Travis, who’s now proclaimed himself President of the Republic.”
“You have an army, too.” Drea waved an arm at the men grouped behind General Cruz. “Maybe most of your men are scattered and hiding in the hills, but that’s even more reason to strike now before Travis and the Black Skulls can pick them off battalion by battalion.”
“And how exactly do you suggest we amass this army of mine without drawing the attention of Travis’s soldiers on us? Even if we moved at night during a new moon, you’re forgetting, we only have so many anti-infrared trucks. Travis has access to President Goddard’s computers so he can watch the infrared satellite feeds. They’ll have fixed some of their planes by now, too. I’d be sentencing my soldiers to their immediate deaths if I tried to mobilize them.”
But Drea was already shaking her head. “I have a plan. One that doesn’t involve us all hiding here like rats until The Black Skulls realize we’ve been hiding right under their noses. How long do you really think we can keep this a secret?” She asked this not to General Cruz, but to the crowd around them.
“We need to strike now. While Travis is still scrambling to get his foothold—not after he’s got the whole New Republic by the balls.”
The crowd’s heads swung back to the General for his response, like they were observers at a tennis match.
Eric got the sense that though none of the soldiers would say it or ever openly disagree with their General outright, a lot of them felt the same way as Drea.
These were men of action. Judging by their ages, Eric would bet many of them had fought in the War for Independence. This kind of go-to-ground, sit-and-wait inaction had to stick in their craw.
The General stayed calm and cool, however, Eric would give him that. Only the twitch of the vein in his neck gave away the fact that Drea was still pushing the limits of his tolerance.
“I will not recklessly endanger my men. So we will not be engaging with the Black Skulls or the army left guarding San Antonio until I am confident we have found a plan of action with an acceptable risk quotient.”
“Tell that to the women there who are being raped every day,” called out one of the women from behind Drea.
Another stepped forward—Gisela. “Drea took down an entire MC compound, just one woman by herself. We all saw her do it.” Gisela gestured behind her at the women and they all nodded. “Are you saying that with five thousand, or even five hundred, you can’t do what one woman half your size did?”
Cheers rose from behind her and there were murmurs from the General’s men, too.
Eric saw the surprise register on the General’s face even as he turned to look back at his men. Poor bastard. He had no idea what he was getting into sparring with Drea. So maybe this one time, Eric could throw the guy a bone.
Eric stepped forward. “Nothing can be decided with so many voices or in a public forum like this. Drea says she has a plan but we know Travis has embedded spies before. We need to appoint a council.” He thought quick. “Comprised of all represented parties. Then we could discuss next steps in a meaningful way so we can actually form a plan of action.”
The General scoffed. “Why would I need a council? I only see one army around here and it’s mine.”
Drea stepped up so that she was toe to toe with the General. “Oh, so are you saying that you get to be a dictator because you have an army? Isn’t that exactly what we’re fighting against?”
General Cruz glared at her. “You’re twisting my words.”
Drea held her hands up. “Just calling it like I see it.” Then she looked past him to the men amassed in the cavern. “Don’t you think you should have a say in your own future? You respect your General, that’s all well and good. He’ll be one of the voices on the council. But you should also have a say in your own future.”
Murmurs among the soldiers grew louder and Eric could see more than a few heads nodding. Drea’s points were landing.
The General’s back went stiffer than ever. “Inciting insurrection in my men is not the way to get off on the right foot with me.”
“Good thing I don’t give a shit about your right foot.”
“Excellent!” Eric said, clapping loudly before Drea could say anything else and escalate the situation beyond repair.
“So the Council will be made up of…” He thought fast, “You, General, and another representative your men democratically elect—without any undue influence from you. Does everyone agree?”
Eric looked to the General’s men where heads were nodding even more rapidly. He glanced at Drea and she gave a single, decisive nod.
“We should have a Councilperson,” said a man stepping forward, glaring at all of them. “We were here long before you came and took over our caves. We’ve been more than understanding as you crowd us out of our own homes. The least you can do is give us a say in our own futures.”
Eric knew from Nix last night that there was unrest among the cave’s original inhabitants but that they were a small faction. Most were people who’d originally fled here when the bombs had first dropped but who’d gone back to the surface after a time. They’d only returned when the Black Skulls took San Antonio. So their ‘occupation’ of the caves only predated the Jacob’s Wellians by a few weeks at most.
“Of course,” Eric acquiesced graciously. “Choose your representative.” Eric turned to the women. “Drea will also be a Councilwoman. And there should also be a representative from those recovered from the Black Skulls compound.”
“That will just mean two votes for Miss Valentine,” the General objected. “They’ll say whatever she does.”
“The same could be said of your men,” Drea answered icily. “Or do you have so little confidence in your decisions that you don’t think you’ll be able to convince them you’re right?”
The General bristled but Gisela pushed forward again, “Plus, we’re sick of our fates being decided without us. Those women under the Black Skull’s control are our sisters. There aren’t enough women left to waste a single one.”
She spoke passionately and as Eric looked around the room gauging everyone’s reactions, he saw more than a few of the soldier’s eyes lingering on Gisela. They’d have to watch that.
“You should also be on the council,” Drea spoke up, surprising Eric. He was going to suggest the Jacob’s Wellian’s elect who they’d want to represent them—he wasn’t sure he still deserved the role of Commander after failing the town so badly—
But taking over command of the town had never been something he’d done out of the kindness of his heart or because he cared for the well-being of strangers—even if those strangers were now friends.
And his guiding light was the same as it had ever been.
Sophia.
He needed to be on this Council so he could steer the future in a way that would create the best possibility of a stable and peaceful future for his daughter to live in. If that aligned with the townships’ best interests as had long been
the case, well then, so much the better for everyone involved.
Eric looked around and saw Nix’s clan along with several others. “Do you want me to continue representing you? Give me a show of hands who wants me to continue as your leader and to be your representative on the council.”
The number of hands that immediately shot into the air made his throat go tight.
They don’t know the real man they’re voting for.
Eric managed a tight smile. He knew the townspeople thought of him as a hero. As their savior, even.
Jacob’s Well had been like every other town after The Fall. Chaotic with mob violence and looting during the Death Riots. Bodies of dead women lined the streets because the burial squads had abandoned their duties, half of them joining the mobs.
So when Eric had shown up with a battalion of soldiers and two tanks and gone about restoring order, well, it was understandable that the townspeople had begun to put him up on a pedestal.
He’d encouraged it, even.
If they were in awe of him, that meant he had power over them. And power was something he’d desperately needed at the time.
It meant they never stopped to ask how exactly he’d gotten those tanks. It meant they never questioned why he should be their leader and set the rules. It meant they’d be the sheep to his shepherd.
So he took power, and he wielded it, and he wielded it to get more of it until his control of Jacob’s Well expanded to control of larger and larger territory.
To secure his hold, he and part of his battalion went to fight for the newly appointed President Goddard.
Eric bribed, begged, borrowed, and stole in order to get into the President’s inner circle on the front as they fought back the Southern States’ Alliance on the eastern border with what used to be Louisiana. Every word he uttered, joke he spoke, and name he dropped—it was all done with the single purpose of increasing his influence in the young General’s esteem.
And he was rewarded. He got to keep Jacob’s Well.
Sophia would have her safe place to grow and thrive. She would grow up in an environment he could control. He would keep his promise to Connie. He would keep their daughter safe.
