Sam stopped the colonel mid-sentence. “How long?” he insisted.
Takashi remained silent for a moment before answering. He knew what he wanted to say but thought it best to wait a few hours and let the shock of a group of soldiers randomly showing up wear off. The hell with it, he thought. Full disclosure was agreed upon before they even set foot in Pepperbush. Telling them now or later really made no difference in the grand scheme of things. “Twenty-four to thirty-six hours.”
Mayor Lancaster ceased his eavesdropping. “Jesus H. Christ, you led them right to us. We would have been just fine if you hadn’t shown up!” he shouted. “I told you people we were just fine. No outsiders, no problems. Now look.”
Just outside the door, Radzinski heard the exchange and decided it best to insert himself into the conversation. “Excuse me, sir, but we didn’t even know you people were here.” Radzinski pointed at the mayor.
Takashi picked up the conversation. “We were about five klicks out when we saw your lights.”
Radzinski couldn’t help himself; he got in the mayor’s face. “We went out of our way to come warn you people. Shit, for all we knew, you were already dead. Just so we’re clear and to avoid any misunderstandings, if it was up to me, we would have kept going.”
Miller returned as well. “That’s why it’s not up to you.”
Takashi pointed at the door. “Stand down, Marine. That’s enough! You will maintain discipline. I told the both of you to fall out. I won’t say it again.” Takashi continued as his men complied in silence. “There was no way of knowing if the carriers following us would have passed you by or if they would have been drawn to your location. We couldn’t take that chance.”
Mayor Lancaster had a suggestion of his own in light of this newest revelation. “I think it best if we keep this little turn of events to ourselves—only for the time being, of course. Wouldn’t you agree, gentlemen?”
His subordinates were quick to agree, offering reasons of their own why the townsfolk should be kept in the dark. Takashi and his unit had other plans for Pepperbush, it seemed.
Takashi replied without missing a beat. “Absolutely not. These people have the right to know exactly what’s going on and that they need to protect themselves accordingly.”
Tobias was overflowing with contempt for the mayor. “What part of imminent danger isn’t registering with you?”
Jeremiah addressed the mayor as well. He had a monotone, clinical way of speaking. His fellow servicemen often called him a robot for it. “Perhaps you weren’t listening. Colonel Takashi told you that your home could be hours away from attack and you would hide this information from your community?”
Mayor Lancaster attempted to save face. “No disrespect implied, Colonel. I was merely suggesting that we don’t cause a panic, is all. Why don’t we talk about this a little further before jumping into commitments that can’t be undone?”
“No offense taken,” Takashi said. “I plan to formally address your town in a few hours. I would appreciate it if you didn’t make me go door to door with what I have to say.”
Marisol spoke on the town’s behalf. “Consider it done, sir.” She radioed back to the police station, entirely disregarding Mayor Lancaster’s thoughts on the matter.
Sam offered assistance as well. “I’ll give my people a heads up. They’ll help spread the word.” He nodded for his men who were in attendance.
“We’re on our way, Sam,” Tobias said as he and Ron left.
Sam turned to Takashi. “Does 9:00 a.m. at Town Hall work for you, Colonel?”
“Thank you, Sam, 9:00 a.m. it is,” Takashi added with a look of contempt in the mayor’s direction.
Mayor Lancaster went ignored. His fellow townsfolk and these new strangers alike were making plans for his town and leaving him no say in the decision-making, all right in his face. He stormed out of the bed-and-breakfast, cursing under his breath. His cronies followed quickly behind him. The group of would-be elder statesmen pushed past Rachel.
She was another of Takashi’s unit, a bubbly, short-haired redhead. Her arm was bandaged up at mid-bicep, and red bled through the wrappings. “What was that all about?” Rachel asked. She might or might not have purposely gotten in his way, pretending to not see him as she picked food scraps from her teeth.
“Our esteemed mayor thinks he knows what’s best for his town,” said Marisol.
“His town?” Rachel chuckled.
“Very little happens around here without his say so.”
“Interesting.” Rachel’s eyes followed the mayor out of the room.
Soraya leaned against the wall outside of Grace’s place, one leg tucked up behind her on the wall. Her fatigues and ragged brown tank top looked as if she had fallen in a mud pit. Her tight bun was bedraggled, and stray hairs fell in her face and down her back. She carved an apple and fed herself the slices from the blade, all the while staring with contempt at the mayor and his lackeys as they passed. She caught enough from the conversation with Mayor Lancaster to begin forming a picture of the man in her mind. “Piece of shit,” Soraya said in Hebrew with a glare that could have burned a hole straight through the man.
Though Mayor Lancaster couldn’t understand the foreign language, he knew well enough from the inflection that she wasn’t introducing herself. He hesitated for the briefest of moments but thought better of the exchange and continued on his way. He didn’t even bother with one of his usual quips, although he would certainly commit her face to memory.
Standing beside Soraya was Aiko, a Navy medic. She was tending to a wound in the Israeli’s side while her patient casually ate. Aiko wore a long, straight black ponytail that was caked solid with dried blood. The mess soaked through her clothes and left a reddish-brown trail down the back of her white T-shirt.
Like Miller’s, both Soraya’s and Aiko’s pants were burned, leaving them with intact but still dirty and blood-soaked shirts, almost as if the trio had been on fire and had to abandon their tops and gear.
“Let him be, Soraya. He’s just scared. In shock, most likely.”
“You are probably right, Aiko, as usual.”
The youngest and final member of Takashi’s unit, Broderick, exited the building in time to catch the near exchange. He was the cleanest of the group, though not by much. “Old-timer probably thought they would be safe out here in the middle of nowhere. Shit, I would have.”
“I am not so sure. Something about him I do not like,” Soraya replied. “I do not trust his look.”
CHAPTER TEN
A Warning
From all outward appearances, Emily’s general store looked like it had been looted. What little supplies remained were spread all over. The noonday sun peeked through dusty windows, highlighting antiques and collectibles used for trade in recent weeks, which were piled up in no discernible order. It was hard to imagine that an old woman in the earliest stages of Alzheimer’s could operate a business alone, but she managed. Surprisingly enough, no one took advantage of her diminished capacity, even in these uncertain times. The piles of items left in trade were a testament to that. Family heirlooms and irreplaceable items of sentiment littered her store, having been traded off for one last round of vital supplies.
Isabelle browsed the offerings while shaking her head in frustration as Tommy sat in an aisle and played with an antique wooden toy car. Isabelle was fond of Emily. The sweet old woman had been kind and gentle for as long as she could remember. As a child, she visited this very same shop with her own mother. Even then Emily seemed old. Ancient, really. Watching Emily’s mind slip away these last few years upset her. She had always been patient and understanding with the old woman, but lately, with all that was happening, Isabelle had lost most of her patience for Emily’s dementia. “Useless junk. Why didn’t I get down here days ago?” she reprimanded herself, placing a turn-of-the-century oil lamp back on the shelf.
“What’s that, honey? Not much left, I’m afraid,” Emily said apologetically as she slowly mad
e her way to a flashing neon open sign in the front window. “Not much sense leaving this on, I suppose.” Emily unplugged the sign and locked the front door.
“Any idea how long until the power will be back on, Emily?” Isabelle asked, not expecting an answer.
“No one’s sure, honey. Word around town is it could stay on for another month or five more minutes,” Emily said as she plugged the sign back in and unlocked the door.
“What happened? I was just here Tuesday and you had plenty of things left. And where’s Thomas’s produce and all the venison? There was more than enough to go around.”
“Well, between the power failure and those soldiers arriving last night, the whole town seemed to panic. Did you know there was a line around the corner when I opened up this morning?”
“No, I didn’t know that, Emily. How could I?” Isabelle said sarcastically.
“That’s okay, dear. How could you?”
Isabelle shut her eyes. If she tried hard enough, she could just barely manage to tune the old woman out long enough to collect her thoughts.
“I’m expecting a truck in the morning anyway, but don’t tell anyone, dear. I want it to be a surprise. Carlos is here every Friday with my order. He hasn’t had a day off in thirty years, bless his heart.”
“Oh, okay. Well, I’ll come back tomorrow then.” Isabelle was not in the mood to humor the senile old woman. Everyone in town was well aware there were no more trucks coming. Not tomorrow and not next week, either. As far as Isabelle was concerned, there were no more trucks coming, period.
Isabelle and Tommy walked down Main Street. She would have preferred to drive over taking the forty-minute walk each way, but Tobias didn’t want to waste the fuel. Just in case, he would say. She rarely argued over those matters; the logic wasn’t lost on her, though she didn’t have to like it. Isabelle’s gray spaghetti-strap dress blew in the breeze, whipping around and snapping at the air. Of course, Tobias warned against wearing something so impractical on the off chance they needed to up and leave town at a moment’s notice. They wouldn’t have time for her to change into something that offered a little more protection. Whatever, Tobias, she imagined. Go play town savior with your friends. I’ll wear whatever the fuck I feel like wearing since you’ve left me to play single parent.
They turned off Main Street and walked through an alley beside Bob’s Hardware, the usual shortcut back toward the northernmost cluster of homes. Two college-aged men followed closely behind, their obnoxious conversation broadcast for all to hear.
“Yo, last night was crazy, bro. I told you to come out,” the louder of the two said.
“Shit, man, my mom was being stupid, whining about it not being safe. I wasn’t trying to hear that shit, dude. I said fuck it and went to bed,” the other replied, already disappointed that he missed out before even hearing the story.
“Ah, you missed it, bro. All night those chick bartenders were doing belly shots off each other. I’m telling you, it was hot as fuck, dude.”
“Oh man, goddammit! See, I knew I should have come out anyway. Fucking bullshit.”
“Yeah, I’m telling you, man, a few more drinks and they’d have been going down on each other right fucking there in front of everybody. Dude, and when they started making out, I swear—” The louder one’s anecdote was cut short.
Isabelle turned and grabbed the kid by his collar, slamming him against the brick wall. An arm to his throat, a hand firmly clenched his balls. She squeezed hard while pressing against his neck. Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes. Isabelle’s face was twisted in a sudden fit of rage, eyes wide, face flushed. She breathed heavily in the young man’s face. Her warm breath oozed over his cheeks and mouth. Her teeth were so close to the boy’s skin he was sure that, any moment now, this woman would tear into his flesh just like one of those things on TV. “That’s my daughter you’re talking about, you little piece of shit,” Isabelle growled.
The second boy promptly backed away from her. “What the fuck? Let him go, lady. You’re hurting him,” he pleaded. “Stop!”
“Stop?” Isabelle snarled. “I haven’t even started yet. Shut your mouth or you’re next.” She returned her attention to her prey. “Even think about her again and I’ll rip these little things off. Do you hear me?” She clamped down harder and began to twist. The corner of her lip quivered as the boy trembled beneath her grasp.
The loud boy whimpered as his legs gave out from beneath him. She followed him to the ground, clamping harder and harder on her target for the duration. Isabelle released her hold a few seconds after he hit the pavement. The loud boy immediately scrambled to his feet, assisted by his friend. Then the two quickly ran off.
“You fucking crazy bitch,” the second boy yelled back as they disappeared down an alley, away from Main Street.
Isaac caught the tail end of Isabelle’s altercation while stopped at an adjacent streetlight. He wasted no time rushing to Isabelle’s side. “Everything alright, Isabelle?” He scanned the alley for signs of the young men Isabelle chased away.
“Oh, it’s fine, Isaac. Just a couple of kids that don’t know when to shut their mouths.”
“Okay then. Well, no harm, I guess. Where you headed?”
“Back home. Grace’s store’s been ransacked. I guess we’ll just have to make do with what we have stored away until this blows over.”
“Oh, Isabelle, I have more than enough food at my place if you and the kids need something,” Isaac offered.
“Thanks, Isaac, but no, we’ve got more than enough. You know, Tobias is always prepared. Overgrown boy scout that he is.”
“The man is relentless with it, isn’t he?” Isaac added, chuckling with an eye roll.
“He is. Trust me. Truth is, I really just needed to get out of the house for a while. Being stuck inside all day, every day is getting to me.”
“I imagine it would, but at any rate, I can give you guys a lift. It’s not a problem, really. I’m heading in that direction anyway, sort of.”
“No thanks, Isaac. I think we’ll walk today. Nothing else to do anymore anyway, right? Besides, I think we’ll stop at Nisha’s house for a bit. I haven’t seen her in a few days.”
“You do have a point there, Isabelle. There really is nothing to do anymore, is there? Well, if you need anything, please don’t hesitate,” Isaac offered a final time.
“I won’t. Thanks, Isaac.”
Isabelle and her son continued their trek north. They walked in silence until they finally broke through a wooded shortcut out onto the road that led home.
Tommy was fidgeting most of the way until curiosity finally got the better of him. “Mommy, why did you hurt the man?” Tommy stopped walking and tugged on his mother’s arm.
Isabelle crouched down to eye level with her son. She pulled him close, and she wrapped his tiny hands in hers. “He was a bad man, Tommy,” she said with sincerity. “And when you see a bad man, it’s important to hurt him before he hurts you.”
11: 25 am - Burke Residence
Tobias and Seth finished up a late breakfast. Lunch, really, by that point. Isabelle left a couple of plates in the oven before heading down to Main Street for some shopping with Tommy. The men sat back in their chairs, sipping hot coffee and still reeling from the morning’s revelation.
Seth spent six years in law school, unhappily going through the motions because that was what he was supposed to do with his life. His parents both toiled away in the service industry, the latest in a long line of blue-collar workers. The backbone of the country, as his father liked to describe it. They put in ridiculous hours and hoarded every spare penny to put Seth through college. It was in their hands to break the cycle started generations past of working like a dog for sixty years and dying broke. No, their son would not suffer through that lifestyle as well. Whatever it took, they would pay for his schooling and put him on his way to a better life than theirs.
Only a semester away from graduation, up late studying evenings, tired and i
n desperate need of a break, he would walk to the local convenience store for a much-needed cup of coffee and a decent conversation. Seth looked forward to his chats with Mohammed. The friendly late-night clerk always served as a welcome respite from the monotony of his studies. Mo, as he insisted his friends address him, immigrated to America three years prior in search of better opportunities. Seth wasn’t the prying type but learned in passing that Mo had given up a lucrative career as an attorney back in Egypt to come to America. That struck Seth as odd. Why would anyone choose to give up the relatively comfortable life that a lawyer’s salary afforded just to up and move somewhere else, to go largely unnoticed behind a counter? Mo would explain to him over the course of a few months that material wealth was the lie that we’d all been fed: eating up every last drop, striving to have more than your neighbor, was the trap we were all stuck in.
“What point is all the money in the world if you are miserable?” Mo would say. “Life should be about doing what makes us happy, consequences be damned.”
Seth would dwell on those conversations for months until it finally reached the point when, without him even realizing it, his favorite moments during any given week were his talks with Mo. Seth had a few questions about life in Egypt that had been on his mind for weeks now. He was determined to get the answers before Mo dominated the conversation, as he was apt to do. As he rounded the corner from the backside of the building, flashing lights caught Seth’s attention. Blue and red beacons danced across the parking lot, reflecting off the shattered glass of the storefront. He rushed into the shop, which by then was filled with police officers taking notes and speaking with witnesses. His friend was nowhere to be found. A blood-soaked white sheet covered a large mass behind the counter. “Please, no!” Seth pushed past the officers for a better look. A hand lay protruding from the shroud, its wrist adorned with a trinket lovingly prepared by a child. There was no mistaking it: his friend Mohammed had been murdered.
Seth spent hours talking with the police. No leads, of course. The convenience store owner, cheap bastard that he was, had no equipment hooked up to the hollow cameras on the wall. Mohammed’s murder would go unsolved. It was over money, no less. Seventy-six dollars and change to be precise. Something inside Seth changed that evening. What started as grief evolved into a sense of purpose. Mo’s voice echoed through Seth’s mind.
The Roaming (Book 1): The Roaming Page 10
