A New Start: Final Dawn: Book 9 (Volume 9)

by Darrell Maloney

  “Before, it was the most effective means they had of keeping people in. Now it’s your most effective way of keeping people out. But it doesn’t work when both of the gates are open.”

  “But we did it that way to make it easier for the drivers. We’re bringing in about a dozen trailers a day now. And taking out just as many empties.”

  “I know it’s easier to leave them both open. But it’s also a big risk. Look, can I play devil’s advocate for a minute?”

  “Sure. That’s why I asked you here.”

  “Anybody with any sense knows you’re stocking the prison in anticipation of something big. It’s obvious from all the truck traffic.”

  “So? We’ve already told all the people of Eden. It’s not a secret anymore.”

  “I’m not talking about the people of Eden, Marty. The prison is in the middle of town on a main highway. Highway 87 is the main route between Lubbock and San Antonio. It gets an awful lot of traffic by people who are just passing through.”

  “Okay? And again, so?”

  “So all it takes is for the wrong person to see your trucks coming and going. And to wonder what it’s all about. And he might be curious enough to ask around, and you can damn sure bet one of your citizens would spill the beans to him.”

  “Still not following. The word is bound to get out sooner or later.”

  “Yes. And that’s why you’ve got to tighten up your security. Look, say that same guy who finds out you’re stocking the prison starts to worry. Maybe he wants a safe place to go too, if another catastrophe happens. Maybe he hasn’t got a secure prison to go to when the stuff hits the fan.

  “That’s okay, from his perspective. Because he doesn’t need his own prison. Not when he just has to gather up forty armed men so they can storm your prison and take it.”

  “I think that’s pushing it a little, don’t you?”

  “Marty, have you forgotten how desperate people were to survive last time? They were shooting each other on the streets, in broad daylight, just to take a little bit of food off the bodies. Your prison, even partially stocked, is like a big neon sign saying, hey, the shit’s going down, and here’s a safe place for you to stay with plenty of food to eat and water to drink.

  “You don’t think you’re gonna have people who decide to try to take it away from you? No, Marty. I’m not pushing it at all.”

  Marty sighed. He had a point.

  “Okay. I’ll have them start operating the Sally port again. It’ll be a pain in the ass. And I’ll have to get the mayor to hire a couple more bodies. But you’re right. What else?”

  “The guy at the gate. Your alleged frontline security. Fire him. Give him a job he can handle. Have him sweep the loading dock or something.”

  Marty grew silent.

  “What?”

  “That’s Tony. The mayor’s son.”

  “Well, if you leave him there he might get people killed. Maybe even the mayor if he happens to be here. That’d serve him right for having the little dummy.”

  Marty almost asked what Tony did that was so unforgiveable. Then thought better of it.

  “Marty, I’m sorry. But you told me on the radio you wanted me to give you an honest assessment of your operation. And the two most important things were awful. Just awful. Personnel access is the biggest vulnerability in a prison operation. Vehicle access is a close second. Once you get those two things tightened up, the rest is a piece of cake.

  “Or, you can look at it another way. You can spend all your time making security within the walls airtight. You may think you’ve won the security battle.

  “And then somebody can get through an unguarded gate, or an open Sally port, and you’re screwed. They can lock down the prison so you’re stuck in the cellblocks. They can cut your power. Your water supply. If they want to kill you they can flood the ventilation system with carbon monoxide or some other poison gas.

  “Marty, have you ever heard of the Maginot Line?”

  Marty felt foolish.

  “No. What is it?”

  “It was a long line of defensive positions and walls France constructed along its borders with Luxembourg, Germany and Switzerland during the 1930s. The line was strong and virtually impenetrable. It was meant to repel the German Army for an attack they were sure was coming.

  “And the attack did come, in 1940. But the Germans didn’t try to penetrate the Maginot Line. They just went around it, through Belgium, where there was no line.

  “Be smart, Marty. Don’t build yourself an impenetrable defense in one area that’s totally defenseless in another.”

  “Gee, thanks for taking it easy on me, old buddy.”

  “Hey, you asked me to give you an honest assessment. Be careful what you ask for, my friend. Because you just might get it.

  “As I said, those were the two biggest things. Nothing you’re doing on the inside will be as critical. Let’s do a walkthrough and I’ll give you some recommendations. Then I have something even more important to talk to you about.”

  “Even more important than the safety of seventy people?”

  “From my perspective, yes. Or at least maybe.”

  -47-

  The tour took more than an hour. Frank found a few more things which concerned him and made some recommendations.

  But all in all he was pretty impressed.

  With the exception of the problems at the front of the prison, everything else from a security standpoint was relatively minor.

  And from the stockpiling and preparation side, they were at least as far along as the people in the mine.

  And Frank said so.

  Marty offered his opinion why.

  “If you thought we wouldn’t take it seriously, you were wrong. Dead wrong. I think we have even better motivation and more dedication than your people in the mine.”

  “But why?”

  “We’re all survivors. But compared to the people in the mine, we went through hell to get there. We weren’t in a safe dry place where the air temperature was a constant sixty five degrees. Where we were, the air temperature never got above freezing, and tended to hover in the teens. We wore several layers of clothing. We had to keep a fire burning twenty four seven for six and a half years. Because if the fire went out we risked freezing to death. And if that weren’t enough, we were under constant threat of attack from people who came after what we had, because they were even worse off than we were.

  “Or because they were too lazy to fend for themselves.

  “Your people are dreading having to go back into the mine and being inconvenienced while riding out the cold. Ours are dreading freezing to death on the streets, or dying of starvation because we can’t get a fire lit in the bitter cold. Or being shot in the head in our sleep because somebody wants to steal a bag of dried beans from us.

  “When those are the alternatives, you find the motivation to get things done.”

  Frank had no response. It was an indefensible viewpoint.

  So he changed the subject.

  “Marty, I have a confession to make to you.”

  “If you have a crush on me, forget it. You’re not my type.”

  “Damn it! How did you know?”

  “Seriously?”

  “No. Of course not. It’s about your murder case. I know more about your victim and his killers than I’ve let on.”

  Marty cocked an eyebrow.

  “Oh?”

  “Your victim’s name was Nathan Martel. You were right about the tattoo on his back being prison grade. He was one bad dude, and spent a lot of time in the joint.”

  They were walking across the exercise yard, the last stop on the prison tour. Marty stopped and sat atop a stack of half a dozen empty wooden pallets.

  He was ready to give his friend his full and undivided attention.

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because he was the man who kidnapped Sarah Snyder and held her hostage. They captured him when they rescued her.”

  �
�Then how did he get away from you?”

  “He didn’t. Three of our people took him on a one way ride. When they came back, he wasn’t with them.”

  “Holy crap, Frank. Your guys are supposed to be the good guys.”

  “In my heart they are, Marty.”

  “So I’m just supposed to overlook it? Pretend it didn’t happen? Ignore the fact that we had to bury a two hundred pound slab of meat that was once a human being?”

  “That’s what I’m asking you to do, yes.”

  “Frank, you’ve been a cop for a long time. I haven’t. I’m only doing this because the town council asked me to. But for the love of God, even I know this stinks.

  “And I also know you should be ashamed of yourself for asking.”

  “For what it’s worth, I am.”

  “Which three of your people was it?”

  “You know I’m not going to tell you that.”

  Marty fell silent and buried his face in his hands.

  Frank continued, “Marty, I’m not just asking you this for myself.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. I’m sure your three murderers belted you into your truck and started it up for you.”

  “Eva came to me in a dream.”

  Marty suddenly felt like the worst friend in the world. This was the first time he’d seen Frank since Eva’s funeral. Yet he didn’t even remember to ask how he was doing. Or console him. Or offer him a shoulder if he needed one.

  “She told me to mention a name to you. To see if you remembered it. She said it would have some significance to you.”

  “A name? What name? What are you talking about?”

  “Scott Burley.”

  The blood ran from Marty’s face. He quite literally turned ghostly white.

  A full thirty seconds of silence went by. Then Marty’s face turned slowly from white to red. Frank could actually see the rage building within his friend.

  Marty looked at his friend and yelled, “That son of a bitch! I’ll kill him!”

  Frank was startled, almost afraid of the rage he’d unleashed.

  “Marty, calm down. You’re not going to kill anybody. Now exactly who is Scott Burley, and why is he a son of a bitch?”

  Marty looked at him as though he had three heads. As though he didn’t understand what Frank was asking.

  Then he shook his head and said, “Not Scott Burley. Lenny Geibel. My supposed best friend. I’m gonna strangle that rat bastard with my bare hands.”

  -48-

  “Why, Marty? Why are you pissed off at Lenny? And pardon my language, but just what does the hell does Lenny have to do with your murder case? Was he a fourth man? Did he help my three?

  “What in the hell did Lenny do, exactly?”

  Marty looked at Frank with an accusatory tone.

  “You mean before or after he told you about Scott Burley?”

  Frank’s head started to swim. The conversation was getting so convoluted he felt he needed a playbook to keep track of it.

  He took a deep breath.

  Then he tried to sort it all out.

  “Marty, I’m trying to remember, but I don’t think I’ve ever talked to Lenny when you weren’t present. Hell, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve even seen the man. And he struck me as the kind of guy who would just as soon walk away from me as carry on a conversation.”

  “Then how in hell did he tell you about Scott Burley?”

  Frank placed both hands on the sides of his head in frustration.

  “He didn’t. Eva did.”

  “Eva? When the hell did he tell Eva? Has he ever even met Eva?”

  “Geez, shut up and listen, Marty. Eva came to me in a dream. She told me to pull back on the murder investigation.

  “She told me to talk to you. And get you to back off too. I told her you were on the case like an attack dog. That there was no way in hell you were backing down.

  “She said to mention the name Scott Burley to you. And to tell you it was a lot like that.”

  Marty’s face went blank.

  “Now damn it Marty. Tell me who the hell Scott Burley is.”

  Instead Marty picked up his radio.

  “Lenny, do you copy?”

  There was a pause.

  Then, “What’s up, Marty?”

  “You back from that run yet?”

  “Pullin’ into town now. I’ll be there in ten minutes or so.”

  “When you get here drop your rig at the dock and come out and see me. I’m in the center of the yard.”

  “Surer thing, Marty. What’s up?

  “Just come and see me.”

  Marty turned back to Frank and took a deep breath. He looked like a scared little boy confessing his sons to his priest.

  “During the big freeze, maybe four years in, the snow pack started to dissipate. I think it was the fourth summer when the temperature went into the high twenties and came close to break freezing a couple of days. The sky lightened a little so it wasn’t quite so dark, and the snow pack softened and compacted, and even melted a little in some places.

  “Of course, it froze back solid when winter returned, but the snow pack was smaller and it was easier to get around than before.

  “And we noticed that Scott was disappearing at night.”

  “Marty, you still haven’t told me who the hell Scott is.”

  “Was. Who the hell he was. He was a hanger on. A fair truck driver but with one of those personalities that grated on people, you know? He just got on everybody’s nerves.

  “But he was one of us so we tolerated him as best we could.

  “Then he started disappearing for hours at a time. Actually leaving our shelter and going out into the snowpack. At first we figured he was just going into the yard of the truck stop, looking through the trailers, trying to find the golden load of frozen cheeseburgers or something.

  “There was a family of farmers named Mason who owned the land directly behind the truck stop. Nice family. Middle aged couple and some daughters. A few days before Saris 7 hit the earth, they gave us permission to set up our shelter on their land. In return, we offered to let them come into the shelter with us.

  “They passed, saying they’d be more comfortable on their own farm. So we did the next best thing. Took them a reefer full of food and backed it up to their front door. Then we wished them well and hoped they survived.

  “Well, they did survive. That’s where Scott was going. He started out watching their daughters through their bedroom windows. Then one night watching them wasn’t good enough. He climbed through the window and raped one of them. A pretty little fifteen year old who would never be the same again.

  “The farmer followed Scott’s tracks in the snow and they came directly back to our camp. He went back and got his daughter and dragged her to our camp.

  “She was in bad shape. Seemed like she wanted to be anywhere else in the world. She was ashamed for what he did to her. She was ashamed. He wasn’t. She was. She was bearing his cross for him.

  “She identified Scott as the one who raped her. The old man pulled out a gun, but Scott begged for his life and he just couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger. His hand started shaking and he dropped the gun in the snow.

  “The daughter picked it up and couldn’t do it either.”

  He paused for a few seconds before going on.

  “I didn’t have no qualms. I drew my own weapon and blew his brains out.

  “We dragged his carcass outside the camp. We couldn’t bury it because the ground was frozen. So we did the next best thing and just covered it with a big mound of snow.

  “He’s still out there, the son of a bitch. Out there in that field, although he’s nothing but a pile of dusty bones now. We thought about burying what was left of him once the ground thawed out later.

  “But some people just don’t deserve a Christian burial. Some people just deserve to rot away to dust.”

  He looked Frank directly in the eye.

  “Now then.
You and I have been friends for awhile, Frank. I’d hate for anything to come between us. Stop the bullshit and tell me how you found out about Scott Burley. There were only a few people there and they’ve scattered to the wind except for me and for Lenny. You say you didn’t hear it from Lenny. Then tell me just who the hell you heard it from.”

  “I told you, Marty. Eva came to me in a dream. We always said that the first of us to go would come back to watch over the other. We said if we could find a way to communicate, we would. Eva came to me in a dream. She was concerned for my well-being. She said she came to help me with my grieving. To tell me she was in a better place. For me to move in and look forward to going there with her someday.

  “Then she said she was worried about the three in our compound. Our good friends who took us in when things got very hard for us. She said she didn’t want them to spend their lives in prison for ridding the world of a mongrel who spread pain and death wherever he went. She gave me Scott Burley’s name because she knew it would make you think.

  “She wanted to show you there wasn’t much difference between what you did to Scott Burley and what the boys did to Nathan Martel. That they were both rabid animals who needed to be got rid of. That you did the world a favor and exacted justice by getting rid of Burley. And that the boys did exactly the same thing with Martel.

  “She said you’d see the parallels and understand. That both of you did the right thing for all concerned. That it wasn’t the way things used to be done in the old world. But that perhaps sometimes the situation in the new world calls for such things.”

  “Frank, I never really believed in guardian angels or ghosts. The whole concept of such things means that by default there’s a heaven and a hell too. And that scares me. Because I haven’t been a good person my whole life. And yes, I killed Scott. He may have deserved it, but I killed him in cold blood.

  “And that in itself punched my ticket to hell. So I’ve always just accepted that there are things out there we don’t understand. But I hoped there wasn’t really a heaven and hell. I hoped the Bible was just a book of short stories written long ago by a bunch of guys with time on their hands and good imaginations. I hoped that so I didn’t have to pay for the things I’ve done.