by Mark Lingane
“I don’t know, but it scares me. Back home, these things came out of nowhere. What I want to know is where they came from. There? Or here?”
“Did they have a name?”
“Sullivans.”
No one claimed to have heard or seen anything about these giant creatures. Sebastian sat down and looked around at the wreckage of the town. A promise was a promise. The Peacemaker should have honored his. He made up his mind.
He stood up and got the crowd’s attention. “I’m sure we all agree that what happened here was terrible. The destruction and death is second to the Peacemaker’s betrayal. I had a friend who promised to protect me until death.” He looked at Memphis. “And I’ve made the same promise to my friend. We make promises. It’s the only currency of any value we have left. The Peacemaker promised these people he would protect them. He’s made the same promise to all of you.”
The wind picked up and his cape rippled out behind him. He slid out his sword and pointed it north. They all watched the easy way he held the enormous blade in one hand.
“I’m going to meet the Peacemaker and make him answer for this crime. I don’t want anyone to feel they have to come, because I can’t look after you. You all have to look after yourselves.”
He looked back at the sea of faces. “But if anyone here feels, like I do, that what happened here is wrong, and you want to confront the Peacemaker, then come with us. I’m not your leader. I’m not your savior or protector. You’re all free people, and part of the responsibility of being free is to take responsibility to look after yourself, and to look after each other. Remember that if you follow us.”
He lowered his sword, and watched the fading light glance off the blade. This sword had delivered so much death, always in the name of defense, but now it was time to turn the tables. He slipped the sword back into the scabbard.
“That was never my intention. I never wanted to meet the Peacemaker. That was your journey. But I can’t stand by and see little kids killed. I want to see justice done.”
Memphis beamed at him, making clapping motions as he walked back to the bike. “Infected. Sullivans. Snakes. Poisonous spiders. Is there anything that doesn’t kill you? Your home doesn’t sound like a nice place.”
“We were at war for a thousand years. Technological and military developments were the priority. We learned to survive when everything got worse. In America you don’t seem ready to face the kind of weaponry we created. I’m sorry.”
54
THE NEXT DAY, as he and Memphis led the way on the steambike, Sebastian locked himself away in a pensive fug. He thought back to Melanie’s promise to him, when he was so young. She had sacrificed everything to stand by him, right up until the last moment he had seen her. He felt like he was the only person in this unfamiliar land who understood what a promise meant.
A couple of the men had not recovered from the previous night’s entertainment, and drove their truck dangerously close to the bike, deliberately. They laughed raucously. He fell back and let them lead the way as they careened from one side of the road to the other.
The men’s reckless behavior continued throughout the day, until they set up camp. The general consensus was that tomorrow would be the day; Salt Lake City was only half a day’s travel away.
When everyone was gathered around the campfire, he stood up. “Listen up, everyone. Tomorrow is an important day. We need to be prepared for possible combat. I suggest you all get some sleep.”
There were a few jeers, followed by a few shouts of “a quick nightcap” before he gave up and went back to the tent with Memphis.
“They need to sleep and be ready for tomorrow,” he said. “Why won’t they take it seriously?”
“I thought you didn’t want to be a leader.”
“Thanks for reminding me.”
“We’ll be in Salt Lake tomorrow. You can show them your stuff then.”
If only I could, he thought.
He lay in the tent and tried to get some rest. As the hours ticked by without sleep, the sounds of merriment from the campfire grew. The men were rowdy and the noise continued to amplify. Several small skirmishes broke out, and he heard tense, raised voice. His frustration grew until he gave up trying to sleep and crawled out of the tent.
He went back to the campfire, and started telling the men stories of his battles, hoping the distraction would calm them down. They engaged briefly with his stories, but when he got to the zombie-mermaid-vampires, disparaging laughs came from his audience. He stumbled over his words and lost the thread. He tried to be as flamboyant as possible, but the men weren’t interested and began to drift away.
On his way back to their tent, a scream from Memphis sent him bounding across the camp. The tent was empty, but tracks led in from the plain. He heard a muffled cry. He drew his sword and charged toward the sound. In the dim light of the fire, he could just make out several shadows.
He ran forward and grabbed the first man, who twisted out of his grip and took off. Another man followed. Sebastian grabbed the next man around the throat and pulled him back. Memphis broke free of the man, and stumbled before falling to the ground. The man kicked back at Sebastian and connected with his shin. He pulled free, but Sebastian slashed down with his sword, cutting across the man’s hand. The man ran.
Sebastian knelt down next to Memphis. She was halfway between crying and rage.
He helped her back to the tent, then laid her down and waited until she drifted off into an uneasy sleep. He made his way back to the men and searched for a man with a slashed hand. In the chilly night air, with hands tucked firmly into pockets if they weren’t holding a bottle, it was impossible.
“Chet, have you seen a guy with a cut hand? Someone attacked Memphis and I’m trying to track him down.”
“I’ve heard whispers. It’s okay; he’s gone now, although you can hardly blame him. These guys are putting themselves in danger for no reward.” Chet’s eyes drifted over to Sebastian’s tent, and he licked his lips.
“I think you can blame him,” Sebastian said, glaring at Chet, “and I do. I hope for all your sakes he’s the only one. This plan is only going to work if we keep focused on the goal. You only need to keep on track for one more day. How about a little less beer?”
“That won’t work. Beer is part of the culture. You might as well tell us to hold our breath.” Chet turned his back on Sebastian and walked away.
“You need to hold something,” Sebastian muttered.
He went back to the tent, crawled inside, and was just drifting off to sleep, with the drone of the men providing distant white noise, when there was a nasty laugh followed by an ear-piercing howl.
He sat bolt upright. “What was that?” he shouted. “What are those men doing now?” His face turned red with rage.
He ran back into the center of the camp. To his horror, he saw an infected … a female, tied up with a dog collar around her neck. A man was prodding a steel bar into her back to keep her at a safe distance. Her body was acutely thin, and she could barely move. Her body was twitching constantly. The steel bar moved and the man forced her face into the ground.
“Oh, God, can’t we get rid of them?” Sebastian cried. “I feel like I’ve been trying to escape these things my whole life. Finally, for the first time, I feel like I could be free of them, and now you turn up with one on a leash.”
He withdrew his sword and stepped toward the nearly dead infected. He looked around at the gathered men. “Don’t you know how stupid this is? How long have you had it?”
There was silence before someone said, “Only a couple of days.”
“Only! This creature you’re torturing is lethal. Has it touched any of you?”
The man with the steel bar turned to the other men and laughed knowingly. “Oh, yes.”
“Okay, I don’t want to know what you mean by that, but if this infected has cut any of you, you’ll be like it in a week. And there’s no coming back. In fact, if you do get cut, there’s only
one thing worth doing.”
He stepped forward and drove his sword into the back of the infected. It writhed around in pain, howling. He sliced its head off and the scream cut short. He looked around. “You might want to check yourselves,” he said to the stunned crowd.
“You get cut?” someone asked the man with the bar.
The man was still staring at the decapitated body. “No. But I think I’ll go and wash off this muck.”
Sebastian walked away; he could feel the anger pouring out of him. He was beyond the point of being able to put words together in a meaningful way. He reminded himself that it wasn’t going to be his problem in a few days. Then they’d see if they could survive without him.
For the first time, he had felt sorry for an infected.
A small group of men slipped into camp in the morning. They kept their hats low and their faces concealed. Sebastian had had enough. Being a leader wasn’t much fun. Memphis reminded him that if all went well today he would be a hero, and they could be on their way to Denver by the end of the evening.
“I promise you I’ll find us a motel,” she said.
“It’s all about that bed,” he kept muttering to himself.
As they rode around Utah Lake, Salt Lake City appeared on the horizon, with the citadel towering above the surrounding buildings. The morning sun bounced off the mirrored windows, glaring into Sebastian’s eyes.
A blockade was stretched across the main road, manned by several guards. The trucks barreled straight through the barrier, reducing the insubstantial defenses to sticks. People jumped out of the way as the convoy raced through the streets. Shops, factories, and homes swept past as they approached the gleaming tower.
Like every other settlement he had seen, walls were crumbling, windows were broken and boarded up, and buildings lay in ruins. But Sebastian couldn’t help but notice that despite this, the city was alive, unlike any other place he had been in.
A cold gust of wind blowing in from the north speared a pain into his head that nearly blurred his vision. But even that didn’t weaken his resolve. This was it. Today, he was going to make a difference.
He was going to make the madman pay for his deceit.
55
THE MORNING SUN warmed the room, easing the Peacemaker’s throbbing joints. “Where’s the q-backer?” he demanded. “Where is Charlie?” He stared at the pale face on the dim screen.
“Still no word, sir.”
“Where are the girl and the tesla?”
“Still no word, sir.”
“How can there be no word? They are two people, two people! Word travels, people gossip about strangers. They can’t be that hard to find. If you want support, I suggest you find them, and quickly.”
The Peacemaker pressed the disconnect button, distorting the watery image on the screen. His blood was boiling. “Fools. Idiots,” he shouted. He pounded his fists against the desk until his anger was spent.
He wheeled his chair out from behind the desk and gasped. “You’re the …”
“I am.”
“How did you get in here?”
“I let the people know the truth, and it prevailed.”
The Peacemaker noted the large sword, held easily by the towering young man. He gritted his teeth. “The truth? What level of truth could you possibly know, outsider?”
Sebastian smiled. He pulled out the cloth from the outlaw’s medipack that sported the same insignia as the Chargers and the 49th. He threw it into the lap of the Peacemaker.
“What is this?”
“Did you make it?” Sebastian said.
With a face of disgust, the Peacemaker picked up the cloth between two fingers and threw it onto his desk. “We make many things here. We’re a center of industry. A center for hope.”
“Hope? You turn people against each other. Your city crumbles to the ground.”
“I do what’s required to keep the peace. By the looks of it,” he said, indicating the sword, “you’re doing the opposite. Guards!”
“The guards have been detained.”
“Using the truth, or using a showing of arms?”
Sebastian sheathed his sword and stepped toward the Peacemaker, who wheeled away.
“Perhaps you’ve come looking for weapons,” the Peacemaker said. “But there are none here. Perhaps you’re looking for armies. There are none. Perhaps you’re looking for the reason you want to invade this peaceful domain.”
“No. I bring people who want answers. They’ve been betrayed and abandoned by you and your empty promises.”
“You’ve brought an army into my lands?”
“I’ve brought innocent people who trusted you.”
“Where are they? Let me see this army of yours.”
“With pleasure,” Sebastian said.
The Peacemaker wheeled to a rusty, ancient-looking elevator, almost hidden in a corner of the room behind bookcases and plants. Sebastian followed, taking in his surroundings. The room felt strange—insubstantial and thin—and was full of plants swaying in a gentle breeze. He stood beside the Peacemaker, waiting awkwardly for the doors to open.
“I’ll give you some advice, young man,” the Peacemaker said, wheeling inside the elevator and pushing the button for the first floor. “You need to know when you’re beaten. If you leave now, you have a chance of surviving to see tomorrow. If you walk away now, you walk away with your dignity, which is a lot more than you’re going to have in a few minutes.”
“You don’t frighten me.”
“Strange, I didn’t know that was my objective. What else have you got going on in that head of yours? Defeat? Humiliation? Rejection?”
Sebastian gave him a look of disdain. Then his expression changed to confusion. “There was no breeze.”
“What?”
“In the room—”
The doors opened, and the Peacemaker rolled out of the elevator and through the great citadel doors. Standing on the steps leading down to the road were the fifty men who had come with Sebastian and Memphis. Local enforcement members surrounded them. The Peacemaker signaled for the enforcers to disengage. They stood down, but remained nearby on high alert.
Standing on top of the steps beside the Peacemaker, Sebastian saw Memphis and gave her a thumbs-up.
The Peacemaker bowed his head in front of the crowd. Uncertain cheers echoed across the front of the building. He kept his voice low. “This is it? This is your army? Simple plainsmen without a plan? How delusional.”
“It’s not an army,” Sebastian said.
“I agree with that. They look more like an unruly mob of vigilantes and hooligans.”
The Peacemaker raised his hand and the crowd went silent in anticipation. Several birds fluttered above their heads as the turbulent winds gusted around the golden building. He cleared his throat and his voice, deep and authoritative, rang out.
“Thank you all for coming to me with your concerns. I’m glad you were able to respond to my request to attend.”
The group looked around uncertainly.
Sebastian gave him a sharp look. “That’s not—”
“Like all of you, I have also been concerned. There are those among us who seek to unsettle, to scare”—he glanced up at Sebastian—“and to threaten.”
“Threaten. That’s all you’re doing,” Sebastian said.
“Is it not fair that for protection we all band together in these times of uncertainty?” The Peacemaker continued speaking to the crowd. “You’re all plainsmen, so you know about survival and the importance of reliable relationships. We’re only as strong as our weakest link. All of you here, you’re not the weakest link, are you? You all look like fine strong men, true of spirit.”
Several of the plainsmen who had been defying their local authorities began to waver.
“Our friendship, my friendship with all of you has always been there if you need help. I want nothing but the best for everyone. We make sure our prices are the lowest possible. There is nothing for me, just for
the hard workers who create what you buy. But this means nothing if we don’t stick together, and look after one another.”
“But you’re a man who stands to profit from the current situation,” Sebastian said.
“Profit? Show me the profit. I quest for peace. I feed and look after tens of thousands of people in this city. They look to me for warmth and shelter from the harsh northern winds. I live modestly within the citadel, asking for nothing. I take nothing from the people. Profit? I think not.”
This felt familiar to Sebastian. It reminded him of the Steam Academy, when Kerry Constantine had seized power of the city by making teslas enemies of the state. His anger rose at the way the man was toying with his words. “I didn’t mean profiting through money. That’s not why I came.”
“Why did you come? Was it to threaten the innocent inhabitants of our city, flexing your muscles like an oversized bully?”
“I brought these people here because they say you threaten them if they don’t join your alliance.”
“Where are the people who heard me making these threats? Bring them here and let me listen to their testimony.”
“Chet,” Sebastian called, “could you come here?”
No one stepped forward. The crowd shifted uncertainly as people hid and tried to avoid the spotlight.
“How convenient,” the Peacemaker added. “Unless everything’s changed drastically since we came down here, I can’t feel any wave of dissatisfaction with my efforts. I’m a humble man who has been dealt cruel blows by life, who seeks solace in a better world for all.”
“You seek power, that’s all.”
“Power? Did you lead these men here, or drive them in front of you with threats of violence? Who is it who seeks power?”
There was murmuring in the crowd at these words.
“Did you walk quietly, suggesting and inspiring?” the Peacemaker said. “Or did you swing a big stick and shout like an outsider who doesn’t understand the delicate nature of our politics? My success is measured by my failures. If there were no conflict, and no bullying, the people of this great city and myself could move toward a different future. If people could just slow down, and listen carefully and considerately to me, and each other, there would be no war. Everything could be resolved. All we need do is sit down like adults and discuss the issues, and listen to one another rather than bullying people into following an outsider.”
