Lionel Jacobs had been one of the Prophet's first followers, and had even tried to convert David at one time. In fact, his mockery of this disciple was the origin of the bad blood between the psychopath and the Soldier.
Before David could get too nostalgic, the barrel of the weapon was removed from his head, leaving the kneeling man with a vestige of hope. In the next instant, however, it felt like a freight train smacked into the back of his skull and he pitched forward. As the earth turned to a black abyss intent on swallowing him whole, David wondered how in the world he had been knocked out by a guy who ran ponzi schemes....
50
Lisa Brittsen was panicking. Worse yet, she had no plans to stop panicking at any time in the near future. She had remained still as she watched David dragged into Webster, but that was only one part strategic decision, and ninety-nine parts paralyzing fear.
That had been an hour ago, at least. She was now well into the anxious part of her dread as she realized she couldn't hide behind the well forever. The wind was dying down, stealing away the concealment the blowing sand had offered. Her options would soon be reduced to heading into Webster to hide, or making a break for Midling and hoping she wasn't caught sneaking past this little death-trap of a town. Eyes catching the lifeless body half-covered with sand, Lisa didn't rate her chances as outstanding.
Guilt raged up within her, forcing her to tear her eyes from the dead man. The man I killed. Now she wondered about David's fate. A felon; an inmate at her prison. Convicted of the attempted murder of a federal agent. Abandoner of the family who loved him. Remorseless player in the criminal underworld of our nation's capital. A man who, to hear him tell it, alcoholic didn't begin to describe. By his own admission, evil.
And one of the most noble men she had ever met.
As the desert wind died down to a whisper, Lisa collected up their gear. For once in her life, it was going to be about someone else. All her life she had been overly emotional, but not a tear was shed as the old Lisa died. She may not be a hero yet, but she was going to have to become one now. Something in those books better have stuck with me! Brittsen stood bravely facing the town of her rebirth.
Slinging a full pack over each shoulder proudly, the weight shifted, pulling her off her feet and flat onto her back.
Maybe she would make two trips.
51
Adam choked on his chicken leg when Lionel and a man he didn't recognize strolled into town carrying one he did. Seeing Saul bound between them like a pig on a spit was enough to shatter his newfound peace of mind. Well, maybe "peace" was the wrong word, but there was definitely something to be said for committing to a path in life, even if he wasn't absolutely sure it was the right one. Whatever it was, since deciding to follow the Prophet, he hadn't experienced any of those queasy, paranoid sensations he used to get when he shot up in his girlfriend's basement. The dreams that came to him now were probably just the result of all the stress of the past week. Or maybe the change in diet. Either way, he knew it wasn't related to joining the Prophet and his men. The old junkie wasn't even sure why he thought of the dreams at all.
Ignoring the questions from the group he shared his meal with, Adam found himself drifting along behind the prisoner as he was taken toward the town hall. It was there that the Prophet had set up his Temple. Of course, their leader claimed to hate that term for it, preferring the secular "headquarters," or even "throne room," but his disciples did notice that his arguments were shallow and half-hearted, so the name stuck.
By the time Saul arrived at the Temple, their little party had gained a significant following. Although he had kept largely to himself in prison, the Soldier's confrontations with the Prophet were well known. When added to the reaction of the boss when he eluded them, those confrontations swelled to mythological status. Adam himself, as the cause of one such legend, was able to slide to the front of the crowd with relative ease.
Once he had a clear view, he immediately regretted it. If Saul was executed in front of him, how would he react? Sure, their values were often in direct opposition, but the older man had always taken care of him when no one else would. He even introduced him to a world where everyone seemed to care about him despite his past. Now, he kept the company of those who accepted him because of his past. This new group didn't demand apology for things he had done, but sometimes he missed being judged. It was strange how the guilt he buried deep inside himself needed outward expression, and yearned to be convicted by someone else.
Shifting his attention to the top of the stairs, he watched Lionel emerge from the building and raise his arms to quiet the expanding crowd.
"Gentlemen, if I could please have your attention," he intoned loudly. "The Prophet has been made aware of our new guest and is looking forward to meeting him for tea. In the interim, he has ordered Mr. Saul to be placed under my guard in the jailhouse. His orders were explicit: No harm is to come to this man until he has specifically authorized it. Thank you very much."
Lionel's speech was met by emphatic groans as those hoping for a spectacle slowly left in disappointment. Adam watched as his former mentor was carried away, an odd mix of fear and anticipation flooding his body. Fear that the resourceful Saul was in their camp where he could ruin this new world if not watched carefully. Anticipation that his Prophet would finally best his chief opponent and put a memorable end to that chapter of the young man's life.
Or is it the other way around?
52
Stainless steel benches had become very familiar over the last few years. David was amazed--and a little depressed--at his ability to quickly get comfortable in his new cell. For a small town, Webster had a fairly modern jail, especially since it probably didn't serve as much more than a drunk tank the majority of the time. He lied on the impeccably shined metal with his windbreaker rolled up as a pillow. The other side of the room held more shiny accommodations in the form of a toilet-sink combination, separated by a waist high wall to give the illusion of privacy. The only throwback to small town jails was the wall of iron bars holding him just out of reach of the nearest guard desk. It was through these bars that Lionel Jacobs watched him.
"Can I go now?" David asked.
Lionel snorted, which seemed to mean no.
"How about now?" Sometimes being unbearably annoying was the only way to fight back.
"No! You're not going anywhere until I hear the word."
"Please?"
"Not that word; until I get word from the Prophet."
"Pretty please?"
"Shut up!"
"Pretty please with white-collar crime on top?" As expected, taking a shot at the impromptu jailer's less-than-tough criminal background brought about a reaction. Jacobs was extremely jealous of his new posse's violent reputations. He had tried picking a fight in the yard to boost his rep once, but ended up in the infirmary after having his nose broken by a man with a cane. That incident had prompted Saul to refer to him as the Prophet's favorite niece in front of a cafeteria full of inmates, which hadn't endeared him to the man.
"You're lucky he doesn't want you touched, Saul!" Lionel squeaked in what was probably supposed to be an intimidating voice. "Otherwise I'd come in there and show you just how tough you really are!"
David just raised an eyebrow.
"I mean how tough you're not! I'd whoop you!"
Saul laughed as Jacobs got flustered. "You scammed people with that silver tongue? After a chat with you they probably thought they were donating to Jerry's Kids."
Losing his temper, the man took one step toward the cage, then thought better of it. Stepping back and turning to the door, he settled for getting the last word.
"Talk all you want Saul, but at least I have friends here. You're all alone." He exited quickly to keep his small victory before his captive could respond.
Hopping to his feet, David moved to the bars to survey the room beyond his cell. Two desks revealed nothing of interest, and the personal property lockers against the far wall had already been looted.
Webster wasn't quite Mayberry enough to have a gun cabinet this close to the lockup, a fact that hit him like discovering his favorite restaurant had changed their menu and discontinued his usual dish. I'm probably going to have to deal with that, too.
Moving along the bars to get a different view, even a childhood spent watching MacGuyver reruns couldn't help him formulate a plan. Finally he acknowledged that all he could do was wait, and plopped back down on the bench. His head hit the jacket pillow and quickly rebounded as something poked him through the light fabric. Stealing a quick glance at the door to make sure he was still alone, he rifled through the pockets until his fingers gripped metal.
With a smile, Saul thanked God that he had been brought in by the worst criminal in the Prophet's crew. Any of his street thugs would have never missed a knife when they searched him, even one as small as this. He cut a slit in the waist of his jeans and slid the weapon in, safely away from pockets that might be patted down, then settled back to wait. He still couldn't go anywhere, but a few things were turning out alright. The knife was nice, but the real good news came when Lionel bragged about having friends while the prisoner was alone.
Lisa must have managed to escape. With the storm dying down, she was probably well on her way to Midling by now.
Run, kid, he thought. Good luck out there!
53
I should have ran.
Instead, Lisa had made two trips between the old well and a possibly older shack that at one time may have passed as an inhabitable structure. Storing the packs in the stablest looking corner, the nurse now found herself second-guessing this whole hero thing.
First of all, she had never read a book where the savior of the world as we know it needed to make extra trips to carry all her gear. If she had, it would have been proven a wise conservation of energy when she fought off a dozen trained assassins moments later. But Lisa just watched a cockroach crawling across the floor, afraid to step on it for fear of losing the fight.
Some hero she turned out to be.
Still, a life packed with memories of quitting, backing down, and taking the easy way out stung her spirit and spurred her forward. No one had ever needed her before. David had the honor--possibly unfortunate--of being her first rescue target. Maybe she couldn't do it. Maybe her failure would be as epic as all her previous collapses combined. And maybe, just maybe, she was a bit on the pessimistic side. But she would still try.
She had no plan. She had no experience. She had no relevant skills to speak of. But she would still try.
Think, Brittsen! Lisa scolded herself. If I were in a book, what would I do? Recon. They always start with recon. She dug her partner's binoculars out of his bag and moved to a south-facing window to get a better view of the town. Neighborhood kids were probably responsible for the spray painted panes of glass, if the number of cigarette butts and crushed beer cans were any indication. A small corner broken out provided what she hoped was a safe spot to observe from.
Spying out the window with her naked eye first, Lisa could see the main buildings of Webster across a small, densely populated trailer park with several of the homes on their sides. Poor trailer parks, if it's not the wind, it's the earth.... No signs of motion were evident, so she brought up the binoculars and let the town proper jump into view.
From this vantage point, she had a partially obstructed view of the town hall and a few other buildings on what must be the main thoroughfare. Small pockets of men--some still in prison uniforms, others seeming to be local recruits--sat around, idly snacking on meat pulled from a hastily constructed barbecue pit. Some few of the men stumbled out of what must have been the local watering hole singing loudly enough to annoy Lisa at her post. Judging from the laughter of those around them, she suspected that not being able to make out the words was a good thing.
Trying to think like David, the nurse diagnosed the scene. She counted fourteen men sitting in three groups, separated by race. The drunk crowd had disappeared behind a building, but she thought she remembered seeing six in that crowd. Two men tended the fire and whatever they were cooking, while another pair stood at the top of the town hall steps with rifles.
Lisa dropped below the window and took some deep breaths. Twenty-four! Just counting those she could see, there were two dozen bad guys camped a quarter mile away! Sitting silently in her ramshackle home base, Brittsen tried to come to terms with the fact that she would probably not survive this hero thing.
54
Things sure had changed in Webster. Staring out the window of the old Smith trailer, Evelyn Teague--or Eve, as anyone who wanted to stay on her good side called her--wondered about the silliness of life in the country. For one thing, the whole planet never shook at her old house. Part of her mind thought that she should be scared by that, but too much other weird stuff was happening.
Dad had left early this morning and said he was going camping for a little while, but he never went camping without her and Mom! Maybe that's why everybody cried so much when he left. Eve was tough, though, she knew he'd be back. Dad hadn't taken one of his long trips since they left the city; they were so much more like a family now.
What was really strange was that Mom left her alone. It had been over an hour since she ran out of the mobile home crying, making Eve promise to stay in the closet. Mom never let her stay home alone.
Probably 'cause she knows I won't listen, Eve thought, guiltily eying the closet she had finally snuck out of. Just as she was about to move back, she saw movement in the Lincoln shack. At least, she thought she saw movement. That building was creepy and the only time anyone went in it was when the older kids dared each other to. No one had dared her yet, but that was probably because since they moved here she spent all of her time reading. Dad said she got her brains from Mom; she was a teacher when they lived back east.
Watching the scary old place a little longer, Eve decided there was definitely someone in there. She checked the other windows for any signs of her parents returning, but found none. Not noticing the tears that had slipped from her eyes, the little girl summoned up all the courage she had and started toward the trailer door.
If they thought I was big enough to leave alone, then they know I'm tough enough to go into the shack!
55
Lisa sat quietly, head in hands, desperately trying to think of a way to find and free David. So far, she had nothing in the way of plausible ideas.
Clink.
Her head shot up as the shack's only door moved. Frozen in fear, the nurse stared at the entrance and wondered how she would die. With her medical training, the thought to her wasn't a simple curiosity concerning her murderer's choice of weapons. Lisa wondered if her heart would stop before the lethal blow was inflicted. Would she lose bodily control at the last moment or retain some dignity? And--more existentially--would she see a light at the end of some cosmic tunnel? Or would there be fire?
When the young blond girl came hesitantly through the door, Lisa began to expect that she might survive this encounter. Staring wide-eyed at her, a trembling voice came forth with a terrified question.
"Are--are you the Lincoln ghost?"
Putting on her best reassuring smile, Lisa answered quietly. "No sweetie, no ghosts here. I just don't tan very well."
"Huh?"
"Never mind. What's your name?"
Eyes narrowing, the child obviously suspected that it was somehow a trick question. After a quick staring contest, Lisa tried again. "My name is Lisa Brittsen, I'm a nurse from Santa Maria. Can you tell me who you are? Or where your family is?"
"I'm Eve," she stated simply.
"Well Eve, it's very nice to meet you. Does your mom know you're out here?"
"She's not home. I just came over after I saw you looking out the window."
"Great," Lisa said under her breath. "Try to spy on a few felons and get caught by a nine-year old."
"I'm not nine! I'm ten!" Eve looked at her feet, obviously embarrassed by her outburst.
Studyi
ng the mysterious little girl, Lisa saw she was tall for her age, with her hair kept back in a long ponytail. Her eyes were the color and clarity of the desert sky in summer, and seemed to hide a wisdom beyond her years.
"I'm sorry Eve, I'm just a little nervous because I'm looking for my friend. Have you seen any strange men around here today?"
"I didn't see any, but I heard a bunch of people yelling yesterday." Eve spoke firmly, but the way she avoided eye contact was quite noticeable. She knew more than she was willing to admit, even to herself.
"So you live around here?"
"No, our house fell down, but the Smiths let us use their old trailer."
"Where are all your neighbors now?" Lisa asked gently.
The little girl shuffled her feet before answering. "Dad said they all went to a meeting. I heard him tell mom that it was being held at the school."
Analyzing the situation quickly, she translated that to captives being held at the school. Lisa wondered if David would be among them or held separately. Given his special relationship with Hutchins and his men, she suspected he would be kept in a different, more secure, location.
"Did your parents go to this meeting, too?"
"No," Eve began as a tear indicated her deeper understanding of the situation. "Dad left to go camping this morning, and mom went out for a bit after it thundered today."
"Thundered? When did it th--" Lisa froze with the word halfway through her lips. Eve looked at her with eyes begging for confirmation that it was just thunder. Oh God, this poor child!
She had never been especially good with kids, or very solid in times of crisis. But at that moment, Lisa opened her soul up to let the compassionate side of human nature come through. Without a word, she spread her arms and let the delicate little girl collapse into them. As they both cried, Lisa found herself more resolved than ever to find Saul. Somehow she knew that he could make this right again.
Early Release Page 9
