Wolves at the Wall

by S. E. Meyer

  Miss Cross will have an update.

  Thick smoke hung in the main room of the underground bar as Cornelius and his entourage found a table. Large clear tubes hung from the ceiling, spanning the room above their heads. A number hung from each one in bold print.

  A waitress set a glass of brandy in front of Cornelius as a woman sat down next to him.

  “Ah, Miss Cross. Glad you could join us.”

  “And for you?,” she asked Cornelius's campaign manager.

  “Double Vodka Cran,” Candice replied.

  As the waitress moved passed Cornelius, he reached out and pinched her thong, snapping it back in place along the crack of her ass. The waitress turned and smiled. “You like what you see? I can meet you in back.”

  Cornelius patted her ass cheek. “Maybe later dear, I have some business to take care of.”

  The bodyguard on Cornelius's right turned to face him with a smile. “Ah, got to love the revealing underwear around here.”

  “Yes, panties are nice, but they're not the best thing in the world,” Cornelius replied.

  “They're not?”

  “No, but they rank high on the list.” Cornelius smiled. “I'd say they're next to the best thing.” Cornelius's ensuing laugh turned into a sputter as the waitress continued around the table, taking orders from Cornelius's security staff.

  Cornelius turned to Candice. “So Miss Cross, how are we looking on the campaign front?”

  Candice raised a plucked eyebrow. “Quite well.”

  “You're confident we will get my opponent's votes?”

  Candice shook her head. “No, we won't.”

  Cornelius frowned. “What do you mean?” he choked.

  “The campaign is going well. Trust me. The Shepherd is doing its job and we've identified the persuadables for the campaign.”

  “You're going to persuade them to vote for me?”

  “No, we're going to persuade them not to.”

  Cornelius shook his head before taking a long pull from his glass. “I still don't understand.”

  “That's why you hired me. We will never get your opponents hardcore supporters to switch sides. The undecided voters of particular age and psycho-demographic will win this campaign. Within that group we started a movement. I planted seeds everywhere with the Shepherd's help and it has taken off. It's called Young Voters Matter. I even came up with a symbol for it.” Candice crossed both of her forearms in an 'X'. “My seeds flourished, and it has now spread organically. The message of the movement is that the particular group we're targeting does not feel represented. They don't feel that there is anyone that has their back, or caters to their needs. They want more options on the ballot.”

  “How does this help me get them to vote?”

  “That's just it, Sir. We don't need to get them to vote for you. We need them to stand up for what they think they are supporting. They won't get additional options on the ballot, it's too late for that, so we covertly continue to support the movement. We've been running continuous targeted ads with the message that neither you, nor your opponent are a good choice. We want them to believe it doesn't matter who they vote for. You see what I'm saying? We have enough supporters for you to win this.”

  Cornelius took another drink. “So you're saying I will win by telling people not to vote for me? Smearing my campaign? How is that helping?”

  “We're only targeting a specific group based on analysis of their social media accounts. We're able to create a psychological profile of everyone based on everything they say, where they go, and who they interact with. You know how the Shepherd works, this takes it to the next level. We're efficient at voter profiling. We know what the people will do before they do it.”

  The waitress arrived with her cocktail and Candice took a long drink before making eye contact with Cornelius. “Bottom line, Sir, this is about taking votes away from your opponent. I have given your opponent's supporters a cause to believe in so they stay home on election day.”

  A man stepped up to the table. “Place your bets.” As he spoke, a rat dropped into each tube at the room's end. They were each confined to the first section of tubing by a sliding door.

  Several people at the table picked a number and wager.

  “And you, Sir?” the man asked Cornelius.

  “Let's put a hundred thousand on number three.”

  The man nodded and moved along to the next table as Cornelius turned back to Candice. “How do you know this will work?”

  “I stole the idea from research I did on elections from the first part of the twenty-first century in several countries, including this one.

  A group named Cambridge Analytica swayed the vote by using the exact tactics I've explained to you. They did it globally, getting into bed with the largest search engines and social media companies before selling their wares to the highest bidder. And they did it for decades.”

  Candice took another drink, a grin tugging her lips.

  “That's the wonderful thing about psycho demographics and targeting ads. We only show them to the people who will respond. And we're able to promote the fake movement to only those who would most likely join it. No one else will even know what it is.”

  Candice leaned in towards Cornelius. “Ever see a social media post and wonder what the hell some people are talking about? Most often during election years? That's proof of select targeting. You were not aware of the information prior because you were not the target. It’s not until people share such a post that makes it visible to others outside of that target, but by then it doesn’t matter. By then the message has done its job. All for one purpose, using manipulation through psychological warfare to sway an election just enough to change the outcome.”

  A bell sounded and the doors to the tubes opened. Twelve rats ran across the ceiling as the room erupted into a thunderous roar. It was over in less than a minute and the number three illuminated on the wall. A man dressed in a suit walked to Cornelius's table holding a receipt. “Will that be cash, credit or wire transfer today, Sir?”

  Cornelius smiled. “It is turning out to be a rather productive day. Place the winnings on my account and open the bar for the night.”

  The man nodded. “Very generous, Sir.”

  James leaned in towards Cornelius's ear. “How do you do it? What's your secret?”

  While taking another drink, Cornelius flipped through the contacts on his phone, stopping at Damarion. He pressed the call button.

  “It's easy. I always bet on the biggest rat.”

  CHAPTER XVIII

  “Is it true?” Atticus asked Anna as they walked towards the church.

  Anna swung her head. “No, but I had to come up with something. You said we had to get them back to Easton,”

  Atticus nodded. “I hope it works, but it's good to hear Cornelius isn't bearing down on us just yet. That would be terrible news.”

  They entered the packed church and approached the front, passing cramped pews and a few dozen townspeople standing along the wall for lack of seating. Richard was sitting in the corner, cuffed and chained to the nearest pew.

  Sheila stood in front of the pulpit. “Is everyone here?” she yelled over the murmuring crowd. She raised her arms, and the church quieted.

  “Dear people of New Easton. We have some news to share with you and we would like you to vote on what we should do about it. We’ve been told Cornelius Cromwell has found out about our little town.”

  Gasps ran through the sanctuary, followed by an uproar of conversations.

  “Quiet!” Sheila said. “According to the information we received he is coming here and we don't know what he will do.”

  Anna stepped forward. “We know what he'll do.”

  The crowd erupted, taking several minutes for Sheila to quiet them. “We must decide to stay here or go.”

  A man in the front row raised his hand.

  “Yes, Jim.”

  “Go where?”

  “Back to Easton,” Anna replied.


  “We can't go back there. Everyone here has been banished, we can't even get inside.”

  “We have a plan for that.” Anna said.

  A man in the third row stood up. “How do we even know this information is accurate?”

  Sheila turned to the man. “This is Anna Wool. She has just come from Easton to let us know.”

  “How do we know she’s speaking the truth?”

  “Yeah, maybe she works for him and is trying to get us out in the open. Maybe she's a Cromwell spy!” a woman yelled from the back row.

  Richard got to his feet. “Oh, she's telling the truth, there's no doubt about it.”

  The woman who yelled turned towards Richard. “We can't believe a word you say. You’re infected with Fleishman's. You're just crazy!”

  “I have proof,” Richard replied.

  “What are you talking about, Richard?“ Billy asked.

  “Look at the back of her neck. There's a small cut and a bump below the skin. I've seen that before. It's one of my grandfather's GPS trackers. He knows she's here and knows about this town by now.”

  Anna tensed. She placed a hand on the back of her neck. “What?”

  Atticus took Anna's other hand and turned her back to the crowd. He lifted her hair and Anna pulled her hand away, exposing the bump on her neck. “I don't understand,” Anna said. She looked at Atticus with wide eyes. “What does this mean, Cornelius actually knows about this place?”

  Billy moved in front of Anna. “What do you mean, actually knows?” He shook his head. “You lied to me, no, you lied to all of us. You’re just like Atticus, doing whatever it takes to get us to leave. How could you, Anna?”

  “How could I? I would lie, cheat and steal to bring down that monster after what he's done,” Anna said.

  Billy took a step closer. “That's makes you no different from the monster.”

  “I'm trying to save everyone's life here,” Anna said.

  “No, you're not.” Billy argued. “We both found out about the tracker at the same time. You weren't trying to save us, you were manipulating us to leave for your own reason, to take down Cromwell, just like Atticus here. Well, we don't care about what Cromwell does. We're happy here, in this little town. We have our health, peace, purpose and love.”

  Anna glared. “Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?”

  “It matters. You're not the same Anna I knew. You've changed.”

  “I guess a lot has changed, Willy,” Anna sneered.

  “That's not fair. I thought I would never see you again.”

  “You thought wrong.”

  Sheila raised her hands to calm the crowded room. “It's time we put this to a vote. All in favor of staying here and taking our chances, raise your hand.”

  About a quarter of the assembly raised their hands, one by one, turning their heads to see who else was in agreement.

  “Everyone in favor of leaving this place, please stand.”

  There was a rumble of movement as over two-thirds of the attendees rose to their feet.

  “I guess it's settled then. Everyone go home and pack a bag. Bring enough food and water for a few days and meet at the gate in two hours.”

  Anna rushed to Richard's side. “What the hell am I supposed to do about this thing in my neck? Can we remove it?”

  Atticus arrived next to her.

  “Yes. If it's done carefully. I can take it out, but I'll need a very sharp, sterile blade.”

  Billy was close enough to overhear the conversation. “We're not taking the cuffs off this crazy, never mind giving him a blade.”

  Richard shook his head. “We don't have time to screw around. There's a poison bead inside the implant and my grandfather can kill Anna on a whim.”

  Anna gritted her teeth. “Now you tell me?” she yelled at Richard through flushed cheeks.

  Richard shrugged. “You were being mean,” he said before mopping the drool from his chin with his shoulder.

  “We have a small clinic one block over. You’ll find what you need there,” Billy explained.

  He led them down the street to the clinic. Once inside, he pulled out a key and unlocked Richard's cuffs. Billy stepped towards a cabinet and removed a scalpel. “Here,” he said, handing it to Richard. His tone was anything but sure and his reluctance to surrender the blade forced Richard to pry it from his hand.

  “A sterile bandage for the bleeding?” Richard asked.

  “Are you sure you know what you're doing?” Atticus asked. “We're putting her life in your hands.”

  “Yes, everything will be fine.” Richard coughed, sending a spray of phlegm onto his hand.

  He directed Anna to lie down on the gurney and pulled the hair away from her neck. He rubbed the area with iodine and then felt around the bump with his fingers. Making a shallow incision to one side of the bump, he massaged the opposite side, coaxing the tiny tracker from her neck. It slipped through the cut and Richard plucked it from the trail of blood.

  “Here, hold this down on the incision and apply pressure.”

  Richard walked several steps away and dropped the implant onto the tile floor before stomping down with his heel and crushing it. He ground his boot side to side, ensuring he destroyed it.

  “There, nothing to worry about anymore,” he said, slipping his left hand into his pocket.

  They left the clinic and made their way to the gate. Dozens of people arrived with backpacks and bags, with more joining the growing crowd every minute.

  Billy and Sheila arrived with empty hands.

  Anna eyed Billy. “Where's your supplies?”

  Billy shook his head. “We came to say goodbye.”

  “What do you mean?” Anna asked.

  “We're staying. I'd rather take my chances here, and so would several others.”

  “Is everyone here?” Sheila asked the crowd as they assembled.

  “I think everyone that's coming, yes,” a man nearest them replied.

  Only half the town showed up. One-hundred people by Anna's rough count.

  Sheila produced a cart and handed out sandwiches to everyone. “This will get you started so you can save what you brought. It's roasted and sliced grouse on fresh bread. It's not much, but at least you won't be going out on an empty stomach.”

  Billy approached Richard. “Should I put the cuffs back on him?” he asked Anna.

  “No, he'll be fine.”

  “Are you sure? He's turning and he could go full on crazy any second. Not that he hasn't been his entire life.”

  “Screw you, Billy,” Richard snapped.

  “It might be a prudent precaution,” Atticus warned.

  Richard took a step towards Billy. “You're the one who's crazy. My grandfather will level this town.”

  “You'll make sure of that, won't you?” Billy said, a flush beginning at his neck spread into his cheeks.

  “I've done nothing but try to help,” Richard argued.

  “Oh? You were helping when you threw me over the wall? I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for you. The only thing you're good at is ruining people's lives, Richard. Just like your grandfather.”

  Richard's eyes grew wide. “I'm nothing like him!” he yelled, pushing Billy away.

  Billy pushed Richard back “You're an asshole Richard. You were born an asshole and you'll die an asshole. And by the looks of you it won't be too far off.”

  Richard stretched his arm back, ready to swing, but two of the townspeople grabbed him from behind. “That's it. Put the cuffs on him. He's not trustworthy.”

  “I have to take a leak first.”

  Richard took a sandwich from the cart and stuffed half of it into his mouth while pacing from the gate. He turned, stepping between two vacant buildings looking for a private place to relieve himself.

  As he arrived at the back of a small shed, he placed the other half of his sandwich between his lips and unbuttoned his pants. Richard let out a quiet sigh as his stream hit the tall grass at his feet. As he finished, h
e heard a low growl. Richard turned to see Shadow with hackles raised. The wolf squared off, moving back and forth with his tail dragging the ground.

  “Go! Get away” Richard said, waving the animal off with his free hand

  Shadow snapped at Richard's shin, continuing to growl while baring his teeth.

  Richard stepped back, tucking himself in. “You better let me pass. Stupid dog.”

  He examined the shed’s door, placing a hand on the latch. After removing a piece of meat from his sandwich Richard threw it at the wolf. Shadow sniffed it before snapping it up and swallowing.

  Richard opened the door to the shed. “Yeah, there you go. Good boy,” he said, tearing off another piece and throwing it into the shed.

  Shadow cocked his head, pausing for a moment.

  “Go get it, boy.”

  The wolf jumped through the opening and Richard slammed the door closed behind him. “There.”

  He took his last piece of meat, throwing what remained of the bread and slipped his other hand into his pocket. “Screw you, stupid animal.”

  Richard retrieved a tiny round object from his left pocket. He shoved the GPS tracker into the meat and tossed it through the pane of broken glass on the shed's window. Shadow devoured it while Richard wiped the drool from his lower lip.

  “And screw you Billy,” Richard whispered, walking back to the gate with a smile.

  CHAPTER XIX

  Billy walked Anna to the gate, taking up the rear of the group. He stopped, pulling her aside. “I'm sorry for what I said back there. I know you're well intended.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and Anna melted into his embrace. “I'm also sorry for how this ended up, Anna,”

  Anna squeezed his shoulders, burying her face in his chest. “Me too.”

  She pulled away to face him. “Do you love her?”

  Billy nodded. “Yes.”

  Anna chewed her lip. “Then you're making the right choice.”

  Billy gazed into her eyes. “My Anna, with heavenly blue eyes.”

  Anna wiped a tear from her cheek. “Not anymore.”

  “You'll always be my Anna. You will always be in my heart. You don't understand what I went through when they sent me over here. Hatred for Richard eating away at me, wandering around out here with a broken heart, missing you every minute. Sheila made me whole again. She gave me a second chance at love and now there's no going back.”