Last Freedom: Book 4 in the Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series: (The Last City - Book 4)

by Kevin Partner

  Laverne followed Devon around the apartment like a guard dog, only drawing a line at coming into the bedroom as Devon got undressed. They'd ransacked the place and clothes were strewn everywhere, so he wasn't surprised to find that they'd taken his jewelry and the small revolver that was his decoy weapon. He itched to go check the place behind the oven to see if they'd found his Glock, but couldn't shake Laverne. And, in any case, he'd be searched before he went in to see Marianna.

  Marianna DeMille. The innocent, somewhat nervous young woman he and Jessie had taken with them out of Salt Lake City on their journey east. Her father had insisted. What had happened to him? What had happened to her?

  And what had happened to Jessie? His stomach tightened as he pulled the T-shirt over his head while ignoring the sound of Laverne turning stuff over in the living room. Devon had sent Jade to the Bowies with a note asking them to keep an eye on her if anything happened to him. Not that there was much they could do, but any protection was better than none.

  "Come on! You don't wanna keep Ms. DeMille waiting!"

  Devon ignored Laverne. He'd dealt with his kind often enough during his time with the police force. An anti-social loner who'd cocooned himself away from the community, he'd struck lucky when the world had turned upside down and now someone like him had the skills and attitude that would give him an evolutionary advantage. At least, that was how he'd seen it. So, he'd come from his log cabin with a pump-action shotgun and a brutal attitude, and he'd found a place with the Sons.

  Devon couldn't leave the bedroom in such a state, so he gave it a quick tidy up before finally opening the door, disturbing Laverne from his search. The big man turned to him and, without a hint of shame, led Devon from the apartment.

  It was a bright morning that promised a warm summer's day, and the people of Hope were walking to their assembly points before being taken to the fields. There was a silence and lifelessness to the place that was utterly foreign. As they walked from the apartment block to the main intersection, a military truck passed them, heading along the highway before turning down one of the residential streets.

  "It's roundin' up the old folks, and the sick," Laverne said.

  Devon didn't give him the satisfaction of asking the obvious question, but his stomach sank. Hope was beginning to feel like Nazi-occupied Europe, or so he imagined. The useful went to the fields to toil. The unfit went … where? The Bowies were only a few blocks away. Had Joe and Dave managed to hide Martha again?

  "They take 'em to the camp. Not far. In the copper mines."

  Again, Devon didn't take the bait. Laverne would tell him what he chose to whether he got the satisfaction of being asked or not.

  "Don't reckon they'll last long. Survival of the fittest, ain't it?"

  Devon marched past the Bowies' store, ignoring the nervous glances of other Hope residents scurrying on their errands. He might have been able to surprise and overpower Laverne as he walked a pace behind Devon, seemingly relaxed, but then what? No, he needed answers, and Marianna was his best hope of providing them. His world had contracted to a sphere made of the here and the now. The past was dead, and the future didn't exist. In truth, that had always been the case, but back then he could participate in the delusion that it was possible to plan for what was to come, to daydream about the future. Now, the shape of things to come was simply a black tunnel and he could do nothing more than shuffle forward blindly, arms outstretched, and wait for the oncoming traffic to wipe him out.

  Four guards in black masks stood outside the community center and Devon suspected there would be others out of sight around the building. One stepped forward as Laverne approached.

  "What is your business here?" The man had what sounded like a South American accent and Devon thought he could see brown skin surrounding the eyes that flitted from him to his nursemaid.

  "Miss DeMille asked to see this prisoner. Maybe she's changed her mind about hangin' him." Laverne's mouth split in a sick smile that exposed rotten front teeth with gaps where his canines had once been.

  The guard made no attempt to hide his contempt for Laverne, but the big man didn't seem to notice as stepped to one side to allow the guard to frisk him before handing his weapon to a colleague and searching Devon.

  A man in a black suit, with a bolo tie and round glasses emerged from the entrance and strode toward them.

  "Oh, you're here. And this is Mr. … ahem … Murphy. You are a little early, but you may take a seat in the waiting area. That is, if this officer has completed his search?"

  "Yes, Administrator," the guard said, with an unmistakable hint of fear to his voice.

  "Very well, then. Follow me."

  The man spun on his polished heels and strode toward the entrance which opened as he approached.

  "Lynda!" Devon blurted out.

  She glanced at him as she hurried away, but said nothing.

  "I see you know Mrs. Strickland," the man said, heading toward the staircase to the upper floor. "Strange, as I don't recall her including the name Murphy on her list of associates."

  "What is she doing here?"

  The man turned to him as he reached the bottom stair. "She is working in our new administration. A sensible woman who has chosen to sail with the wind rather than against it."

  At the top of the stairs, the rooms used for council meetings and for the mayor's private business seemed almost entirely unchanged, except that the usual bustle and murmur of conversation had been replaced by complete silence save for the clacking of a typewriter.

  "You will wait here," the man said. "Miss Kuchinsky, you will inform the Leader that her next appointment is here."

  A young woman looked up from behind an ancient black typewriter and nodded. "Yes, Mr. Simmons."

  They didn't have to wait long. The door to the mayor's office opened and a masked face leaned out. "Come in, now."

  "Does she want to see me too?" Laverne said, clearly hoping for an answer in the negative.

  "Yes."

  Laverne got up and gestured at Devon to go ahead of him.

  Marianna sat at what had been the desk of Gil Summers and then Paul Hickman. She wore a white blouse that made him think of a naval uniform, but no rank insignia. In fact, she looked like a junior office worker, if anything. Behind her stood two black-masked guards in fatigues with conspicuous sidearms.

  "Hello, Devon," she said as she looked up. "Sit down, please."

  "What the hell is going on, Marianna?"

  The guard who'd ushered them in put his hand on his weapon and barked, "You will address the Leader with respect!"

  Marianna gave a curt nod. "We have been familiar in the past, Devon, but those days are over. You will refer to me as Leader, or Leader DeMille."

  "Where's Mendoza?"

  A flicker of anger passed across her face. "Do not force me to demonstrate my authority. General Mendoza is the chief of our armed forces. I am in day-to-day control of Hope. You must deal with me, but do not mistake me for the woman I once was. Much has happened since then."

  "I can see that," Devon said, before adding, "Leader."

  She seemed to relax a little before looking past him. "Laverne, you may slink back to the sheriff's office."

  Devon caught Laverne's expression of mixed relief and annoyance but turned back to Marianna before she could speak again. "Where's Jessie?" he said. "Leader."

  "She has been taken to our new facility for her own safety and that of her child. The other child went with her also."

  "Was she in danger?"

  "You tell me. You're the one going under a false identity."

  "What do you expect? I've seen the Sons in action."

  One of the guards stepped forward, but Marianna put her hand up to stop him. "I will not remind you again," she said, before sighing. "Devon, we are a new and disparate organization and it may be that some of our cells don't yet implement our vision entirely as we would wish. Hope will be the beacon for them all. We will be the exemplar."

 
; "But how has this happened? Last we knew, you were at the church with Fred and Tori at…where was it?"

  "Cedar Run. Yes, it was very sad that they were killed, but I have learned since then that removing the dead wood is necessary if the forest is to thrive. "

  Devon leaped out of his chair. "Dead wood? They were human beings, dammit! They took you in!"

  The two guards swept out from their positions, grabbed Devon by the arms and thrust him back into the chair, almost toppling it in the process.

  Marianna leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "This is your final warning. I have tolerated your disrespect for old time's sake, but if there is one more outburst, I will be forced to punish you and those you love."

  Devon gritted his teeth, brushed himself down and forced out an apology.

  "To finish my account: I soon learned that the way of the Sons is the only future for humanity and this planet. I made myself useful and, it seems, I have something of a talent for organizing the people we bring into our community."

  Devon wanted to say so much, to expose the truth behind her words. The suffering, the death, the loss of freedom. But he looked into her eyes and saw madness there. What had they done to her to break the free spirit she had once been? Was there anything of the old Marianna left, or was that personality as dead as Fred and Lori? He listened as she chilled him to the core.

  "General Mendoza will return once he has completed his current mission. When he arrives in Hope, he will find it a model community, an example of what can be achieved by people working together for the common good. If, by any chance, he does not, then you can expect him to exact extreme punishment. Not only of those who have defied us, but on their families and random members of the community they betray. Do you understand me?"

  Devon nodded, then let out a deep breath. "Why are you telling me this, Leader?"

  "Because I know you. You are a resourceful man and, until you truly understand us, you are likely to be trouble."

  "And so you have taken Jessie into custody. To keep me in line?"

  "To incentivize you. I said that the General will expect Hope to be completely pacified when he returns, and that there will be serious consequences for the people if they are not."

  "So you want me to stay out of trouble? Be a good boy, keep my head down and allow the overseers to abuse me?"

  Marianna's cheeks flushed and the guards behind her put their hands on their weapons again. They were itching to blow his head off; he could see it. "Yes, I expect you to behave as a model citizen. I also expect you to take responsibility for your community."

  "How?"

  Marianna stood up and stuck out her hand. "Congratulations, you are now mayor of Hope."

  "What?"

  "I presume you wish to help the community during this time of transition? Keep people safe? Give them the best possible conditions?"

  "Of course."

  "Then shake my hand, Mayor Myers, shake my hand."

  "On one condition—I get to see Jessie."

  Devon shambled along Avenue K as his mind desperately tried to make sense of what had just happened. He'd stepped open-eyed into a trap. He was the Judas goat. In that one action, Marianna had painted a bull’s-eye on his back, making him the target for all the hatred and resentment that would follow as the Sons tightened their grip on the town.

  He'd barely been paying attention as she'd told him what his duties were. He would be based in the community center, though not in the office previously used by the council leader. No, she would have the power—both symbolic and actual. He would be held accountable.

  Oh, he was certain she was also on the line. If the general returned to find anything other than perfect order, then he would punish Marianna, but Devon would be the sacrificial lamb.

  And there was nothing he could do other than to play along. Jessie was being held, and she'd be safe enough as long as he cooperated. He slammed his hand against his leg in frustration. If it weren't for her, he'd be free to act. If it weren't for her. And Dorothy. What hole in his soul did these foundlings fill? What flaw did they patch? And Jade, of course.

  He stopped, and the dull thudding of Laverne's feet halted a moment later. "I'm heading this way," he said, pointing down a side road.

  "What d'you want me to do, boss?" Laverne sneered.

  Devon shrugged. "You're the sheriff, apparently. Go sheriff." He turned and strode across the road, aware of Laverne watching him as he went. He couldn't help Jessie or Dorothy, not for now, at least. So he headed for the Bowies'.

  Devon breathed a sigh of relief when Jade appeared at the gate, Joe Bowie at her side. It had taken him twice as long as it should have done to get here because he'd been stopped three times and, each time, the patrol radioed back to the community office to get confirmation that he was, indeed, the new mayor. He felt their eyes on him as he walked along the sidewalk. Perhaps he imagined that they were all laughing at him, though he doubted it.

  They were still watching him as he stepped past Joe and embraced Jade.

  "Is Martha okay?" he asked when they were inside. He'd gotten so used to her king-size bed dominating the living room that the place looked empty without it.

  "Yeah, they found her alright, but they didn't take her this time. They say she's got a week to report for work," Joe said.

  "Or what?"

  Joe shrugged. "Well, there's all this talk of the mine buildings."

  "Yeah, I reckon that's where Jessie's been taken."

  Dave Bowie came down the stairs and joined them. "So, what's goin' on? I heard you was a condemned man. Word is, you took a swing at one of the guards."

  "Uh-huh, and I'm lucky to be alive. At least, I think I am." He then told them of his meeting with Marianna.

  "So, she's gonna use you as her shield. She must be terrified of this Mendoza fella."

  "Oh?"

  Dave slumped down opposite Devon. "Can you think of any other reason why she'd want someone else as mayor? I mean, it ain't exactly a big job, though old Gil did his best to puff it up. We don't even rate a mayor here. If she weren't afraid of the general, she'd want to keep the credit for herself, wouldn't she? You're her insurance plan, mark my words."

  Devon considered this as Jade leaned against him on the couch. Dave was a sharp one. It wasn't simply that Marianna wanted someone to take the heat from the people of Hope. No, she needed a fall guy for when Mendoza returned from wherever he'd gone. And she'd backed him into a corner so he couldn't refuse.

  Devon sighed and looked down at Jade as she lay in the crook of his arm.

  He was mayor of Hope. And a dead man walking.

  Chapter 19: Crawford

  Ezra was like an ant hill that had been kicked over and flooded by boiling water. There seemed to be fewer people than ever, and those who did walk the streets kept their heads down and paid no heed to the group of five dressed as Sons.

  They'd brought the Land Rover as close to the hospital as they dared and then walked the rest of the way across the wasteland until they'd gotten to the parking lot. Pretty quickly, Hick regretted bringing Brain along. The man had barely walked anywhere for two months and whatever that woman had done to him, aside from simple starvation, had turned the big bear of a man he'd known into a scrawny raccoon. They'd left the woman back at the mining complex. She was more than halfway to madness and Hick reckoned the isolation of that place would finish the job, and there were plenty of sharp implements. It might have been kinder to finish her off there and then, but he knew that May and Kris wouldn't allow it.

  They'd cleaned up the hospital since the last time he'd been there. Then, he'd fought with the defenders to keep what he thought were bandits and thieves out, and had only learned the truth afterwards. Mayor Hawkins had sure fooled him, but she'd gotten her comeuppance, by all accounts.

  Only one ward was open, and Hick could see injured people in the beds, but no sick. It was as if the hospital had become merely a place for patching up workers, ready to send them back into the fields.
No one challenged them, and most turned their backs as they approached. A blanket of fear smothered all curiosity, and Hick used that cover to move without hindrance toward his destination.

  Kris took the lead, striding confidently through the mainly deserted streets and toward Crawford's headquarters which, she said, were in a Kingdom Hall just the other side of what had once been a recreation park.

  Dozens of people toiled in the bright evening sun, bent low over rows of spring-planted beans and potatoes. There were more guards here, but Kris's confident manner combined with an unwillingness to see anything suspicious meant that they made their way without drama until they reached the street containing the Hall. On one side lay the flat plots where a row of ranch houses had stood a few months ago. Tents, chain-link enclosures and other temporary structures had been built on the grass and pulverized rubble, as out of the ruin of a quiet city suburb framed on all sides by mountains rose a military camp.

  They walked past the converted Kingdom Hall, which seemed pretty empty to Hick. The hall was set back from the road and surrounded by a parking lot. One guard stood in front of the dark green door, but when they took a left at the end of the road, they couldn't see any other protection.

  "Are you sure this is the place?" Hick said, as they turned around and began walking back the way they'd come. "Surely it'd be better protected than that? One guard?"

  Kris looked back at the hall and rubbed her chin. "This is definitely the place; I've been here often enough. Maybe he feels confident."

  "And maybe he can't spare the men," Hick said. "Let's see if we can get in around the back."

  Kris shook her head. "That's not what we agreed. We need to find cover somewhere out here and watch for him."

  "Look, we know he's either in there, or he will be soon enough. It's quiet and there's no guard. Come on!" With that, Hick walked directly across the land between the side road and the parking lot. He glanced across at where small groups of figures milled around the equipment and shacks that occupied the plots of what had once been family homes. From this distance, it looked as though they were entirely engaged in their own business. On one plot, a small fleet of civilian vehicles had their trunks open, people going back and forth as if packing.