Fifty Years of Peace (Abrupt Dissent Series)

by Andrews, Charlotte

  He glanced to the damaged stage and saw the assemblyman escaping on a cart with two of his aides. The trapdoor that separated life and death for Richard was still intact, and Sheriff Dickson watched as Jenny rushed the stage and was doing her best to protect her grandpa from a group of Texans. The girl had all the bravery in the world, but he didn’t think it would be enough.

  “Come on!” he yelled to his rebels. He only hoped he wouldn’t be too late.

  ***

  When she leapt off the sheriff’s horse and onto the stage, Jenny felt a brief moment of panic. She wanted to turn to the fairgrounds and see how the citizens were doing, but there wasn’t time so she focused on her grandfather struggling to strip the noose from his throat with his bound hands.

  Two Texans stood in her way. One of them drew his gun, but a boot knocked the pistol from his hand. Her grandfather, as spry as ever, smiled at her. She pulled the pistol that the sheriff had given her as the other Texan closed in on her, but as she backed away from the soldier, she stumbled on an uneven board. The Texan smiled and cocked the hammer on his revolver.

  Just then, a man flew into the Texan’s legs, knocking the soldier to the ground. The two men wrestled around until the man was able to grab hold of his weapon, and knock the Texan out with the butt of his pistol. He rolled over in exhaustion and relief. Jenny scrambled to her feet to face the other Texan, but three men from town had already pinned him to the stage. She ran to her grandfather’s side and cut the noose from his neck.

  “Jenny!” he cried. The joy in his voice made her heart sing, and she threw herself into his arms.

  “I’m so sorry Grandpa. I’m so sorry.”

  “Oh child you never need to apologize for doing what’s right.” They hugged for what must have been minutes. “There is one thing though Jenny…”

  She stepped back to look into his eyes.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “I think the townsfolk would like a word with you.”

  She turned, and her mouth fell open at what she saw in front of her. Everywhere she looked, the townsfolk held the Texans prisoner. They’d done it. They’d really done it. She looked behind her to thank the man who’d saved her and she saw the sheriff rising from one knee, wiping blood from his knuckles. He looked just as startled by the view as she was, and together they watched as people were pushing their prisoners forward, cheering and whooping. She expected the sheriff to step forward, or her grandfather, but instead they together took hands and pushed her out to the lip of the stage.

  The crowd went silent.

  Jenny had never been in a situation like this before, and normally her nerves would get the best of her, but after everything she had been through, she didn’t feel nervous at all. She was different, stronger, braver, and she knew the people needed her now.

  “Everyone!” she called. “Everyone we did it!”

  A great wall of sound rushed back at her. The joy and pride she felt gave her entire body goose bumps. As the cheers died, she knew she needed to tell them more, tell them everything. She thought of George and his mother, and what the New States had done, and she felt so overwhelmed. She clasped her hands and turned to her grandfather. He smiled and stepped closer to her.

  “They need to be led Jenny,” her grandfather said. “Tell them what to do.”

  “The Texans are likely regrouping, so we don’t have much time right now, but you all deserve an explanation.” Jenny paused briefly, and then continued, “Nothing you’ve heard has been true! Assemblyman Arnold and the rest of the New States government have been sending our harvests out of the country. While our own countrymen are starving and struggling to survive, they are selling our food to other countries and increasing our quotas!”

  From the gasps and murmurs that accompanied her speech, she knew that she’d shocked everyone.

  “Arnold and the Texans have been building an army with the money and weapons they are receiving from other countries in exchange for the quotas that we put our blood, sweat, and tears into filling. And with that army, they are planning to attack the United States.”

  The gasps from the crowd grew louder, while the Texans stood hard-faced and silent. The townspeople began throwing questions back and forth, clearly shaken by what they just heard.

  “What do we do?” someone called.

  She raised her hands to quiet crowd, but as she waited for them to silence, she heard a new sound; the sound of boots pounding the earth. She looked past the crowd to see a line of Texans just crest the top of the fairgrounds.

  “They’re coming!” she cried. “Those of you with weapons take cover and defend yourselves. The rest of you, get to your houses, get what supplies and weapons you can, then go to the Old Louisville High School across the river! Go!”

  She turned back to the sheriff and her grandfather.

  “That’s where the radio is,” she said.

  Sheriff Dickson nodded, “You two better be off then. I’ve got a defense to coordinate.”

  “Lou,” her grandfather said, “these are trained soldiers. You can’t stay here. You know what will happen.”

  “I do, which is why they need someone to lead them. Now go.”

  He nudged them toward the stairs, and Jenny gathered her horse’s reins.

  “Here Grandpa, take the horse. I can run fast enough to get there.”

  “We’re not going to the high school just yet Jenny.”

  “What?”

  “They’ll kill Mayor Trestle if we don’t get him out of that jail.”

  She knew it was true, but she was afraid. The sounds of gunfire began to ring out, and the scream of a wounded townsman sent chills up her spine.

  “You’re right,” she said, and swung up onto the saddle behind him. She dug in her heels and prayed they’d have enough time.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sheriff Dickson ran along his militia’s makeshift line, trying to coordinate enough of a resistance to give the rest of the townspeople time to escape. Many of the townsfolk were hunters, good shots in their own right, but they weren’t used to being shot at and he pushed them down behind any cover they could find. Bullets churned the earth on either side of him, and he made sure that his men and women kept their heads down and picked their shots. He’d told them to bring whatever weapons they had, but he hadn’t told them to prepare for war. He only hoped some of them would live.

  He took cover behind an old gazebo and found four men inside armed with pre-war semi-automatics. Ammunition cases littered the floor.

  “Now where did you boys find these?” he said in wonder.

  “Our parents were in the guard, served with Jenny’s grandfather.”

  “If we had a few more of you,” the sheriff said, “this fight might be even.”

  They smiled as bullets chattered around them, returning the Texans’ fire, but it was going to be a rout. Dickson had maybe sixty shooters against what looked to be two hundred Texans, every one of who knew how to use a rifle and fight as a unit.

  “Can you hold here if I get the rest of the line back?” the sheriff called.

  “We’ll give you everything you need.”

  “Good. Once we get behind you, you need to fall back. Head for King Bridge, and then the high school on the other side. That’s the rally point.”

  The men nodded and the sheriff took off, calling orders up and down the line. The citizens picked up and ran, a few staying to provide cover along with the gazebo. Many of them were wounded, and he saw a few prone forms unmoving. His heart was breaking, but he was proud of how the townspeople fought and supported each other. He could see the Texans’ advance stalling as the reality that they were in a battle, not a security action, sank in. That was due to Jenny again. She’d told them all what to expect in the night. She’d known the Texans would come hard and strong.

  But even so, they had to get to a more defensible position, and quickly. He signaled to the shooters in the gazebo, and they followed him as he ran through town to
ward the old highway to reach the bridge. The Texans followed, but the pursuit broke up as more and more citizens flooded the streets and bogged the soldiers down. They weren’t going to shoot civilians; at least they had some kind of honor left.

  “Come to the high school in the old city!” the sheriff shouted to anyone he could see.

  He picked up a few more straggling shooters and his ragged militia ran toward the bridge together with a few dozen townspeople. They crossed the bridge as shots ricocheted off the trestles. He stopped on the other side of the bridge, panting, and climbed on top of an old traffic barrier to watch people stream across. There were hundreds of them, scared and frantic, pushing to get to what they thought was safety. A few bullets still flew, but they’d largely outrun the Texans.

  The townspeople were smiling as they streamed across the bridge, thinking they were safe, that they’d scored a great victory, but he knew better. The Texans didn’t need to pursue them at all. There was nothing in the old city beyond boarded up buildings, and the only way out would be over the mountains. They had no food, and any siege was just a function of food and time.

  ***

  The hooves of Jenny’s horse sparked the asphalt. She could hear shouting and gunfire south of her, but the town seemed deserted this far west.

  The door to the sheriff’s office was open. She pulled the horse to a halt and sprung off with her grandfather. He winced when he landed, but all the farm work still kept him agile. She ran for the office but her grandfather held her back and peeked inside.

  “There’s no one inside.”

  “Let’s go!” she called and rushed past him. He tried to grab her but it was too late. Someone pushed her grandfather inside after her and slammed the door shut. Pressing her eyes to the peephole, she saw a cowboy hat and a leering grin.

  “Linden is going to be happy to see you two,” the man’s muffled drawl came through the door. “Nothing but trouble from you two since the day…” The Texan’s eyes rolled up in his head and he fell away from the door. Keys rattled in the lock, and Jacob stepped through.

  “Jacob!” she cried. “What are you doing here?”

  “Come on, there’s not much time.”

  He opened the prison door and they ran inside, but Mayor Trestle’s cell was empty.

  “Oh no,” her grandfather said, “we’re too late.”

  Then the mattress shuddered and fell off the bed. The mayor had been lying on the springs underneath, hiding from anyone who might want to harm him. He smiled as he levered upright.

  “Well isn’t this a welcoming crew! I…” he trailed off as he saw Jacob. “Jake. Which side are you on now?”

  Jenny turned and saw the boy’s eyes fall.

  “I…I can’t go with you. I don’t think it’s right what they are doing, but I have to try and fix things. Just know that…that I’m not your enemy. Jenny, please know I want to help.”

  “I know Jake, and thank you,” she said. She gave him a quick hug, then followed the mayor and her grandfather out into the street.

  ***

  Linden wore a set of headphones, pacing behind his communications tech and chief of security in the trailer.

  “Train is three hours out sir.”

  “Excellent news,” he answered. “What’s the disposition of the town?”

  “Light losses on our side, seven KIA reported, five more missing. Captain Renault reports that he’s captured a good chunk of the townspeople, but the majority have fled across the bridges into the old city.”

  Linden smiled. He wondered what the townspeople would do when they heard his terms. There was no reason to fight them. They’d be hungry soon enough, and when they saw tanks enter the town, they’d know there was no point in resisting. He could still bring them around.

  “Bring me Mayor Trestle. I’d like to have a word with him.”

  “We have a problem there sir.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The mayor is gone. We believe the girl and her grandfather helped him escape.”

  “Where are they?” Linden snarled.

  “We don’t know sir. They tied up our guard and the Johnson boy, and left.”

  “Bring them both to me, and get me Renault.”

  The radio crackled, and he heard Captain Renault’s southern drawl through his earpiece.

  “We’re holding on the western shore awaiting your orders Assemblyman,” the captain said. The occasional sharp crack of rifle fire spun through the ear piece “Loss of civilian life is minimal.”

  “They’ll be starving soon enough. I want you to keep a close guard on the river for three fugitives, Jenny and Richard Williams, and Mayor Trestle. Patrol up and down the shore; use rowboats if you have to. Those three are not to survive the night, do you understand?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Excellent. Thank you.”

  Then he threw off the headset and barged out of the trailer. In the distance, the pops and snaps of the battle picked up in their intensity. He couldn’t see anything, but only hear the firing in the dying sun.

  “Enjoy your last night,” he whispered to himself. He pulled his pistol and spun the chamber, then resettled the piece in his holster, “Your fifty years of peace are over.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The sheriff felt everyone’s spirits sink as the sun began to fade. The fighting had largely stopped, and he’d deployed every shooter he had to the three bridgeheads while volunteers watched the river. Those who’d run to the school expecting salvation had found only Doc Stinson, who was doing the best he could for the wounded in the ancient infirmary, and a woman who seemed to be a fine shot and handy with a radio, but had no idea that an entire town would be coming to her doorstep.

  “Where’s Jenny?” she asked.

  “The last I saw her, she was going to get Mayor Trestle. If she’s not back yet…then I’m not sure. Have you heard anything on the radio?”

  The woman nodded, grim-faced.

  “They’ll have an army here tonight. A full tank brigade is three hours away by train.”

  Sheriff Dickson’s stomach sank. He turned behind him to see if any of the townspeople had heard. He saw hundreds of scared faces in the hallway, all looking to him to lead them. They were terrified as the reality of what happened set in, and they had every right to be.

  “We need to think about surrendering,” he said to the woman.

  “We can’t give up yet, my son is out there, and he can stop the train. We must wait.”

  “With all due respect ma’am, do you have any suggestions other than waiting?”

  “Yes,” Lenora said. “Pray.”

  ***

  George didn’t know how long he ran. The railroad tracks north of New Louisville seemed to stretch endlessly through the forest. All he knew was that there was a bridge over a ravine somewhere in front of him, and he had to get there before the train. His pack’s straps dug into his skin and he’d run out of water long ago. This was worse than any training he’d done, but he couldn’t let Jenny down. If those tanks reached the city, everything they’d worked so hard for would have failed.

  Finally, he emerged, stumbling and sweaty, onto the lip of a bridge that spanned what must have been a thirty-foot drop. For a moment, the memory of crossing that first bridge into the New States flashed into his mind, but he pushed that thought away. The mission was too important to think about the past.

  He unshouldered his pack, pulled out the charges, and clambered down the embankment to where the iron supports met their concrete pillars. He unwrapped the C4, and stuck it to the rusted metal in multiple sections. Then he plugged two wires into each brick of explosives, and unspooled the trigger wire behind him as he ran back up the embankment. He knelt at his pack, fishing for the detonator, then froze. He thought he’d heard something.

  He honed in his senses, and could just make out the wails of a train whistle. He had to hurry.

  He dug into his pack for the small box that would connect the wires an
d send the electrical detonation signal to the blocks of C4, but it wasn’t there. He went through again, found his ammunition, extra C4, extra wire, a toolbox with wire cutters, and a driver set, but the detonation box was gone.

  “Looking for this?” a voice said behind him.

  He spun around and saw a lean man standing ten feet down the tracks with the yellow box in his hand. He had a sniper rifle slung over his shoulder and a pistol at his side, but he hadn’t drawn them.

  “Who are you?”

  “I have to say, your little family has been much more clever and resourceful than I’d expected, even after I finished off your father.”