She slid down the wall and took the cup of coffee from Marvin, who'd set up a camping stove in the corner. Beyond him, Paulie could see the first of a row of steel lockers that ran around a central landing. Most had been broken into at some point since the Long Night and the personal possessions stored there stolen. How pointless it all was, she thought. Just like this mission.
Then the floor began vibrating. "Something's coming," Lee said.
Paulie got up onto her haunches and looked out over the window sill. A small convoy of military vehicles was approaching from the left. Several trucks followed two tanks. Ahead of them all was a jeep. "I know him!" Paulie gasped. "It's the leader of those bandits who threatened Arbroath."
"Good grief," Lee responded, "So do I. He works for the Lee Corporation."
The gates swung open, and the convoy trundled into the compound. The leader waved and jumped down from the jeep, receiving cheers from the soldiers. Paulie watched as, after some handshaking and backslapping, he shepherded them to the rear of the convoy—the trucks had come to a halt with their rear doors facing where Paulie and the others were. He swung open the doors of the first and the cheer went up again. Between the bobbing heads of the onlookers, she could see what looked like boxes of food, enough to feed an army.
He moved along to the second one and, this time, two armed soldiers jumped down first. Paulie squinted into the dark interior of the truck and then gasped. "They've got people in there!"
Again, the cheer went up and Paulie wondered whether they had rescued these people, but one look at the first person to walk down the steps banished that thought. It was a youngish woman wearing stained clothes. Her body was stooping, like a trapped animal, and her hands were tied. A man followed her. His face was bruised and the t-shirt she could see beneath his jacket was splashed with blood. He was also bound around the wrists and two guards manhandled him so he stood beside the woman alongside the truck.
Paulie was unable to glance away from the procession of men, women and children who hesitantly climbed down the steps and into the light, only to be lined up next to the others. It was like a scene out of Schindler's List.
"The most valuable resource in this new world is going to be manpower," Lee said. "How big is this base?"
"Big enough to hide a small army. Who is their leader?"
Scott Lee continued watching the sad parade. "Lad Melua. He was appointed head of security for the Seattle building. Born in one of the old Soviet states but came over as a child. Brutal."
"What was the Lee Corporation doing hiring thugs like that? It's a tech company isn't it?"
He settled back down to take a swig of his coffee. "Technology is expensive and has to be protected. Anyway, this particular company had a mission or, at least, I thought it did."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, clearly it had a mission, it just wasn't the one I thought I'd signed up for. The alleviation of suffering; that was my calling. And being given a good cause to continue my research."
The guards herded the last of the people into a low building behind the loading bay, and Paulie sat back down to finish her coffee.
"Ain't there nothin' we can do?" Tucker said, withdrawing from the window. "Them poor folks. It ain't right. I swore an oath to protect the constitution and there ain't nothin' in there about treating people like cattle."
Paulie tried to hide her surprise at this compassion in someone who, only days ago, had been willing to string up a petty thief.
"I know what you're thinkin'," he said, "but he was a criminal and caught in the act. These are probably just innocent folks. Could have been us if we hadn't stood together and I figure we have you to thank for that."
"Look over there," Graf said, saving Paulie the embarrassment of coming up with a reply.
The gate was lifting and a small group of people carrying large backpacks came out. Two of them wore military uniforms, but the others were dressed in civilian clothes though they were, Paulie noticed, clean and in good condition.
"Foraging party," Paulie said. "Though surely this area must have been stripped clean by now?"
Lee shook his head. "Seattle's a big city and there are plenty of apartment blocks not far from here. It would take years to strip them of everything useful. I guess they send out their expeditionary force to seize people and supplies in large quantities, then use local scavenging to top up the stocks."
"I think we should follow them and get some answers. Just me and one other. Not you, Pastor. Jon?"
Graf looked uncertainly at her, but his answer was cut off by Tucker. "With respect, Sheriff, Jon here's a good cop, but what you need is a military man and that's me."
Paulie glanced across at Graf, who gave the tiniest of nods. She wasn't sure she felt comfortable trusting a man who'd come so close to disobeying her orders, but she'd appointed him as a deputy and if she wasn't going to trust him in situations like this, she should have removed him back in Arbroath when she'd had the chance.
"Okay. Get your stuff together. You two get the truck ready for a quick exit. If we're not back in three hours, get yourselves out of here under cover of dark."
"We're going nowhere without you," Graf said.
Paulie took his hand. "If we're not back in that time, Jon, then we're not coming back. But I'll be careful, honest. You know me."
Graff mumbled something noncommittal and then handed Tucker's pack to him. "Oh, and Marvin: I hold you personally responsible for making sure the sheriff gets back safely. Do you understand me?"
Tucker's eyes narrowed as he held Graff's stare but, after a moment, he nodded and followed Paulie out.
Ramos and Tucker shadowed the foraging party as it headed into a residential area. They kept their weapons in their hands and followed as far behind the group as they could without the risk of losing them. Dusk was falling as they passed a big blue self-storage building and climbed a hill lined with single story houses.
The party was walking along the low picket fences without looking to the left or right—they knew exactly where they were going. As Paulie reached the first house, she glanced across to see that the door was open and two black bags lay outside, with cable ties sealing the top.
Marvin touched her arm and crouched down as their quarry stopped a few houses up. Each took a white boiler suit from their pack and climbed into it. Two of the suited figures went into the house and the rest dispersed, two by two, into the neighboring properties.
Paulie gestured right and Marvin followed her around the back of the first bungalow, the one that had been cleared on a previous expedition. They flitted into the garden, keeping low, until they were around the back of the house.
"Oh, my G—" Paulie moaned, before slapping her hand over her mouth.
The remains of a bonfire lay on the lawn. Blackened garden furniture and firewood piled around an upright post. And tied to the post was the charred remnants of what had once been a human being. The legs had been totally consumed, but the torso remained, and, at the top, the head was untouched by flames.
"Didn't happen long ago," Marvin whispered. "Couple of nights, I reckon."
The victim's face was twisted into a grimace of unimaginable agony, eyes staring at the heavens as if begging for deliverance. A young man, his shoulder length hair fell over the collar of a white boiler suit.
"Animals," Marvin said.
"Come on," Paulie responded, dragging her eyes from the hideous scene. "Let's get behind one of the houses without a guard." It was simple math—there were a dozen boiler suited house cleaners and two armed men watching them. That was the reason, presumably, for such brutal treatment of transgressions.
The guards were standing on either side of the road, each outside one house. She and Marvin slid until they had two properties between them and the guards. They wouldn't have long, but she needed answers. She had to understand what was going on here—she couldn't return to Arbroath without knowing the true nature of the threat to the north.
They
found a side door. Paulie could hear heavy footsteps inside. The workers were dragging something across the floor. Her nose burned with the stench emerging through the gaps in the door frame. "I think they're disposing of a body," she said, gasping, "so we're going to have to wait for them."
Marvin's face dropped. "In there?" he hissed.
Paulie nodded and turned the door handle. It was locked, but Marvin levered open the small window above it, letting out a cloud of the disgusting gas, before reaching around and unlocking the door from the other side.
She pushed the door open gently, bracing herself against the smell, and they ran quickly through the living room, ignoring the black stain on the couch, and into the hallway, jumping into the shadows as the boiler suited workers came back in, wiping their gloves on their overalls.
At a nod from Paulie, they swept forward as the figures went to return to the living room. Marvin's knife caught the fading light as it swung into place over the jugular of the nearest worker, just as Paulie pressed her handgun against the forehead of the other.
"Silence!" she hissed. "Now, into the kitchen."
They followed the two figures inside and shut the door.
"Who are you?" the first stammered, as they were released.
"We're cops from out of town," Paulie said. "And we want some answers. Good grief, you're women."
The one who'd spoken first pulled her hood down. "Of course. This is women's work, or so we're told. But look, the guard will be here any minute and if they find you here..."
"Yes, we've seen what they do to those who cross them, but we can handle ourselves," Paulie said.
The other woman, of Latino appearance, shook her head vigorously. "No, you must not do that. If you kill the guards, we cannot return, and if we do not return, they will kill our friends. And they will find us."
"Then answer our questions quickly," Marvin rumbled, silencing the women.
"Tell us about the settlement. Who runs it and how did you come to be there?"
The women exchanged glances and the one who'd first spoken, a middle-aged woman with heavy bags under her glasses, responded. "It is run by Colonel Melua. He and his band came to our town and took everyone they could find, and all our possessions."
"Are you imprisoned?"
"Yes. We have converted some buildings to live in, though they are getting overcrowded, especially with the new ones who arrived today, poor things, I wish there was something we could do about them — "
Paulie cut off the woman's stream of consciousness. "Okay, I've got the picture. What are the people used for?"
"Some of the men are taken into the militia. Colonel Melua, he calls it his New Model Army, though they are really just bandidos," The Latino woman replied. "The rest he puts into work details or uses for menial tasks around the compound. He says we will move out soon, to somewhere better, but I do not know."
"So, you're held against your will?"
The first woman shrugged. "There are gates and razorwire, but where would I go if I escaped? I did not want to come here, but I would have died if I'd stayed where we were. This life is better than no life. But you must go!"
"Lydia, Maria, how are you getting on?"
Paulie cursed to herself and waved the two women out of the kitchen. She heard footsteps on the path before they echoed in the hallway.
"There you are. What have you been doing? There ain't time for chit chatting. Darn women. Now just you get on wi—What's that you say?"
"Don't kill him," whispered Paulie, though she wasn't sure Marvin heard her.
The door burst open, and a shot rang out. Paulie grabbed the arm and pulled it inside. Cries came from the road and a whistle blew in the gathering darkness. She brought her fist down on the man's head and he fell back, senseless.
"We'll split up," she said. "Meet back at the armory."
Marvin shook his head. "Nah, better chance together."
"That's an order. And if I don't make it, tell him Paulie says 'Wiggie' and he'll know you're not responsible. It was the name he gave his favorite dog as a child."
She sprang up. "You head out the back, I'll lead them off."
Marvin went to protest, but she'd run into the night.
Paulie kept herself visible for long enough to draw the remaining shooter behind her. If she killed the man, then the women would suffer and, even though she'd been betrayed by them, she didn't want that to happen. She was running in the opposite direction to the route back to the armory where the others were hiding.
She darted between two houses. Now it was time to lose her pursuer—Marvin should be half way back to the others by now. Graf would be furious. But Paulie wasn't going back. She'd never intended to.
Smith's suggestion of this fool's errand had presented the perfect opportunity. She was finally going to deal with the long-borne burden of her daughter's fate. One way or another, she would find out what had happened to Luna.
Paulina Ramos hid beneath a willow tree in the garden of what had once been a well appointed dwelling and watched the guard run past. She waited for ten minutes and then headed from yard to yard. She was looking for a vehicle. Paulie was heading south.
Don't worry, darling. Mommy's coming.
Chapter 12
A set of stepladders had been placed beneath a street light, and Solly watched as Carl climbed them at gunpoint. It was now mid-morning on the day after Neil's murder and they'd just come from his graveside. As part of his punishment, Carl had been forced to dig the pit and fill it in, trembling in abject fear as he labored.
A noose hung from the light and a man Solly didn't recognize climbed the other side of the ladder and looped it around Carl's neck. He spoke a few words to the condemned man and descended.
Hanna stepped from the gathered crowd and stood beside the base of the light. As she opened her mouth, the man on the ladder began to cry.
"Please. Please. I'm beggin' you, Hanna," he sobbed. "I was wrong to do it, I know, but I just wanted their weapons to protect us. You know I've been faithful. Done my best by you."
A woman standing to Solly's right spoke. "He's right, Hanna. He saw off them bikers. He's kept us safe."
Hanna waited for a moment, perhaps to see if there would be any further protests. "If we are to survive as a community, then we must respect the rule of law and we must be true to our word. When we offer sanctuary, we must provide it. There are enough weapons on that truck to kill every one of us and if our visitors had suspected us of being faithless, then we would all be dead now."
"This man's attempt to steal these weapons would be cause enough to have him banished from the community but last night he killed someone who had sought our protection — "
"I didn't mean to," Carl wailed. "Honest to God, I swear I didn't mean to kill him."
Hanna turned to look up at him. "No, you meant to kill them all, Carl. And you were going to drive away in their truck and leave us to pick up the pieces. A life here obeying the rules got a bit stale, didn't it?"
"No! It weren't like that. I swear it. Please Hanna."
She faced the crowd again. "People of Breezewood, you granted me full executive powers when you elected me mayor and so I don't need your approval to punish this man. But I invite any here to speak for him if you will."
Carl's wide eyes scanned the faces of the people watching him, begging for someone to plead for him.
The woman who'd spoken before was the only taker. "Like I said, Hanna, he has fought for us. That ought to count for something."
Hanna nodded gravely. "You speak wisely, Christine."
She stepped to the side and gestured to the man standing beside the ladder. In one movement, he kicked it away and, with a shriek, Carl fell before, like the cracking of a whip, he jerked and kicked for a few moments and then was still.
Solly stood, open mouthed, at the hideous spectacle. The crowd gasped as one but went silent as Hanna put her hands up. "He has been put out of his misery, as a kindness, but let no one be in any d
oubt that if our community is to survive, it must be just. Without law, we have nothing but anarchy. We do not have the facilities to keep prisoners, so justice must be swift and, perhaps, harsh. But we can have no dead wood in Breezewood."
Ross, who'd been standing in Solly's shadow and under his instructions had not looked at the makeshift gallows or the man hanging from them, tugged on Solly's arm. "Can we go now?"
"Sure," he responded, and turned to leave these people to their grim business.
The people of Breezewood had filled the jerry cans with diesel and had added some of the food they'd gathered in their foraging. Solly pulled out the rifle and handed it to Hanna who was striding across the hotel parking lot.
"Thank you," she said. "You are welcome to stay longer, if you'd like. I'm truly sorry about your friend."
Solly lifted his pack into the cab. "We need to get back to the road, but thanks for the offer."
"Or perhaps you don't like our way of delivering justice?"
He turned back to her and shrugged. "I came pretty close to killing him myself last night. Neil had a family that survived the Long Night, you know. A miracle. And he was a good man. Didn't deserve to die. Maybe his killer did."
"I'm sure you think I'm a hard woman, Solly, but the world needs people like me right now, otherwise we'd all be following low-lifes like Carl, the ones who shout loudest and wave their weapons around. The community is better off without him and his idiot accomplice."
She embraced him and wished them both a safe journey. "What about Ross? Do you not think he'd be safer here?"
"Why don't you ask him. He's man enough to make his own mind up."
Ross accepted her hug. "No thanks, ma'am. I'll stick with Solly. He'd be lost without me."
They headed out onto I-76 which soon became snarled up again and, in the end, Solly was forced onto the country roads that shadowed it. They were heading for Pittsburgh, aiming to pass it on the south side as Solly had no desire to head into the city. It seemed to him that however horrific the countryside might be, it would be an order of magnitude worse in the urban areas.
The Long Night Box Set Page 26
