by TW Brown
There is no court of law these days. Sure, some settlements have their own version of law and order; but I have seen people ended based solely on hearsay. Again, that is the world we live in. Not that it was all that different before, but it is even more lax in actual justice and quick to condemn. It reminds me of stories of the Salem Witch Trials. Point and scream and you got a conviction.
All that said, I don’t have any doubts this woman has done what she is accused of doing. And now that I am hot on her trail and confident that she no longer has the baby with her, I am eager to catch her and put her down like a mad dog.
But on nights like this when I can hear the screams of a man being broken on the wheel (who thought of that nasty little sentence?), I wonder if I am part of the problem, or part of the solution. I tell myself that I am some sort of avenger, but I am really nothing more than a contract killer. What is worse, I don’t even require payment in many cases. Does that make me evil? Am I the one who people should be hunting?
Entry Thirty-seven—
She slipped my grasp again.
I was right on her heels. In fact, at one point, I bet we were within fifty feet of each other. Only, this time, I feel like it is just a matter of time before I have her. She made a big mistake. It is also obvious that she has no idea that I am on her trail; unless she actually wants to be caught.
Early this morning, I was sitting down to breakfast when there was a huge commotion. I walked out onto the street, my senses tingling. Sure enough, this lady drops to her knees in the middle of what passes for a street in this little community. She starts screaming and crying about how her baby is gone.
Naturally, everybody is all twisted up and unsettled. One guy even spins on me. Newcomers are always the easiest target. That is also why I sleep in a public place most times when I stop over for a spell. It ensures that I am not unaccounted for at any time.
I gave a description of Mary and asked if anybody recalls seeing somebody that fits the bill. Sure enough, the mother said that Mary stopped at her home just before sunset. She said that she was just passing through and wanted to know if there might be a wagon for sale. The woman had directed her to a neighbor.
That man picked up the story from there. He recalled Mary and admitted to selling her a small cart as well as one of his old mules. As it was, she could barely afford either, but he felt so sorry for her seeing as how she was just trying to escape the clutches of a terrible man who beat her regularly. He did not recall at any point seeing a child.
Runners were sent to each of the gates. (This particular community covers an area of about ten square blocks.) The north gate came back with an affirmative. While we were waiting, I managed to let a few of the calmer folks know who I was and what I was doing. As soon as I knew which gate she left from, I was on the move.
I bent my rule about not accepting any form of pre-payment when one of the people who had heard everything made the offer of lending me a horse. I swore that I would return it if at all possible. The man told me that it would be mine to keep if I brought the baby back. As I started to ride away, he amended his offer in a harsh whisper that it would also hold up if I only managed to bring back the head of this evil woman.
I am certain that I will catch her tomorrow. Currently I am just waiting for the ferryman to return to take me across. I can actually see the wagon on the flat-bottomed barge that is just now halfway across this river. The man who took my fare affirmed that a woman fitting Mary’s description was the driver of that wagon. Also, she was in the company of a very fussy little boy who could not yet be a year old.
It is still a few hours until dark. There is simply no way that I can imagine her escaping me.
14
The Geek’s Wife Makes Waves
“I think maybe we should send for Elliot,” one of the guards managed to choke out.
“How long have you been in this place?” Catie said with a scowl. “And lay that body down. You don’t need to hold him any longer. He won’t be putting up any more resistance.”
The two security guards laid the body of Clarence Carson down on the floor. The hole in in his temple was still oozing dark blood that smelled almost as bad as the cell.
Catie had demanded that the two guards hold Clarence Carson so that she could put him down. One of them had laughed, thinking that she might actually be joking. She ended that notion when she grabbed the young man in a wristlock and slammed him against the wall. She told him he could either help, or she would break his wrist and then make him do it anyway. Only, with an injured wrist, it might be possible that Mr. Carson would get loose or perhaps land a few good licks.
There had been no further argument after that display. The two men had opened the cell door. Oddly enough, Clarence Carson did not put up a fight. He stepped forward and looked Catie in the eyes as she held the spike in her left hand. She asked him if he had anything he wanted passed along to anybody in particular.
The man looked at her in open disbelief. Something harsh came to his lips, but he bit it back. His eyes changed just a little, going softer. It was not anything to do with the tracers; no, his glare retreated, and there was actually something warm and human in them for a moment. It was in that instant that Catie had to brace herself for what she was about to do. It was also then that she was hit with the largest wave of doubt that she’d had so far in regards to if she was on the side of good.
“There ain’t no more good and bad,” Kevin had said one night when they talked about some of the things that they had seen, done, or said. “Now it is all about the shades of gray. You just have to choose how black you will allow your gray to become.”
“I have a son back at Montague. His name is Kelly. If you guys go in there and you are able to find him, don’t let him do anything stupid. Tell him that I want him to at least find out. And if he is one of you people, try to make sure that he does right.”
Clarence said all of that while he looked directly into Catie’s eyes. Then he glanced down at the spike and back to her. He gave a nod and stared straight ahead. When she brought the weapon up, the man had one last thing to add. “We ain’t so different, you and I. And of all these punks that I have met since being brought here, you got more balls than any of ‘em.”
It took all of her effort to finish, but Catie drew her hand back and then plunged the long, thin metal spike into the temple of Clarence Carson. The man went rigid for a moment, and then he began to shudder violently as his brain apparently fired off one final barrage of information to the body. At last, Clarence’s eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped, going completely limp. Neither guard seemed prepared for the sudden amount of dead weight that they were holding and had to struggle to keep from dropping the corpse.
Catie turned and went back up the hall. She waited for the two young men to join her. Now she would see what came next. Maybe she would talk to Elliot first. She wanted to be the one to tell him that Clarence was, in fact, dead. She also wanted to warn him to never put her in a position like that again. But that was one option, and not likely the direction she was headed.
“I’ve been here three years,” a voice said, snapping Catie out of her ruminations.
“What?” She turned to see both men standing a few feet away.
“I said I have been here three years,” the man with the skin problems spoke after clearing his throat.
“You act like that is the first time you have been around death,” Catie said as she folded her arms across her chest and leveled her best military inspection gaze at the young man.
“No, ma’am…err…well…” the kid stammered and stumbled, his face turning a bright and very embarrassed red.
“First time around a living person dying?” Catie amended.
The young man said nothing. He simply stared at the ground. His head might have given the slightest of nods in affirmation.
“That bother you back there?” Catie stepped close to the man and hid a smile when the other guard actually stepped a
few paces back.
Once again she did not receive a verbal confirmation. However, at least his head bobbed a bit more perceptibly this time. Catie put a curled index finger under the young man’s chin and tilted his head up so that his eyes were no longer glued to the ground.
“Good. It should always be a struggle to take the life of a living person. If that ever becomes too easy, then you might want to consider the possibility that the next life that needs taking is your own.” She saw his eyes widen and his mouth opened, but Catie fixed him with her own look that was equal parts compassion and command. “Killing is not something you should ever take lightly. So if you feel bad right now, that’s okay.”
“Do you feel bad?” the fresh faced guard asked.
“Jeez, Trevor, what do you think?” the other scolded.
“Let her answer, Jimmy.”
Catie eyed the two young men for a moment. She took a deep breath and then searched herself for the truth. That was the problem; in the past couple of days, her truth had shifted. She was still trying to pin it down.
“I feel bad that I had to take a life.” She once more fixed first one of the young men and then the other with her gaze, trying her best to ensure that she got her point across. “But killing Clarence was a mercy. He would have suffered otherwise. There was no need for him to endure that slow change.
“Also, Clarence is a soldier in this new world. Soldiers die. That has been the truth for an eternity. That does not mean we don’t mourn their loss, but it is something that they face each day knowing of the possibility that it may be their last. In the Old World, I think too many people forgot that simple truth.”
Catie recalled a few times right after all of that terrible madness of September 11, 2001 before she had enlisted; she recalled an instance in particular when she saw a man in uniform get off the bus as it stopped in her town on its journey to wherever. People started clapping. Sadly, that sentiment of appreciation faded just like anything else. But until the day she had signed those papers for herself, she always made it point if she crossed paths with one of the men or women in uniform to walk right up to them and say “thank you.”
“Now, I want both of you to go find something to wrap the body in so it can be disposed of properly,” Catie said with a sigh that was partially coming off the adrenaline of the situation and partially from a deep fatigue that threatened to never release its hold on her soul.
Catie turned and made her way outside. She reached the street and decided to take a walk around before returning to Elliot. Eventually she passed a massive building that showed signs of a great deal of life. Despite most of the exterior sign having fallen off over the years, she still recognized the remnants of a Marriott logo. Unlike the other buildings, this one looked like the bottom three floors had been cleared. None of the windows remained on those levels. Armed individuals could be seen roaming the length of the open floors. One actually waved at Catie as she stood looking up at the building. A large section of the sidewalk in front of the building was heavily stained as if perhaps some great battle had taken place.
“Thinking about staking your own quarters?” a voice said from behind her.
Catie had mixed feelings about not immediately reaching for her weapon. She had let some of her guard down; or perhaps it was an effect of being tired and a shade wrung out. Still, she turned to face the owner of the voice.
“What are you doing out here, Marty?” Catie asked.
“Melvin is more of a book guy than I am. He was walking around in a daze with drool coming out of his mouth as he roamed the aisles at the library,” the big man said with an easy smile. “Just passed one of the boys that you traumatized and he said that you headed this way.”
“There are some surprisingly naïve people here for as open as this place is.” Catie turned back to the hotel-turned-housing complex. “For all their freedom, they are very isolated from what is out there.”
“Maybe they prefer to kill zombies. Maybe they are not the boogeymen that Dean has been preaching.”
“That is fine until you consider the kidnappings.”
“How do you figure?”
“They are snatching kids from their families,” Catie pointed out the obvious.
“I hear that some of those kidnappings have been arranged. There were a lot of parents not happy with things at Montague. They wanted their kids to have a shot at a better life. Pretty normal stuff if you ask me.”
“Are you telling me that these kidnappings are simple relocations?” Catie turned back to the large man and planted her hands on her hips.
“Not all of them,” Marty said with a shake of his head, “but well over half. And where do you think they are getting their information?”
Catie opened her mouth and then shut it with a snap. That fact had never once raised itself as a question in her mind. She had assumed that it might be the bracers that the immune wore. Yet, even with markers to identify the immune, a kidnapping has to be targeted in advance for what was going on here.
“Okay,” Catie finally pushed that bit aside, “let’s say I give you that one. But here is my big question. You know what Elliot has planned for the people at Montague, right?” Marty nodded. “And are you okay with that? We would be killing innocent women and children.”
“And do you think that they will just line up voluntarily and take the shot?”
“So we infect people on purpose? You can paint it with any pretty color you like, but genocide is still genocide. We would be exterminating people for no other reason than they are not like us.”
“Or we can live under their heel? This takes the ‘what if’ out of the question. The more we can get on our side, the more people we have in place to stand against these communities that hunt us down, the ones that would just as easily kill us without any of the debate that you and I are having.”
“And that makes them the bad guys? Will we ever be able to call ourselves good or righteous after we commit this act?” Catie had to struggle to keep the tears at bay. Her emotions were all bubbling to the surface again.
“You have been alive too long to think that way,” Marty muttered with obvious discomfort; whether it was the topic or the fact that he could see Catie’s emotions seething just below the surface, she didn’t know. “It is as simple as survival. I’m glad that you are struggling with this. That sort of brings me to my next point.”
Catie had to sniff hard to continue holding back the tears. She looked up at Marty and saw something now in his eyes that suddenly helped her regain her composure.
“What?” she asked once she cleared her throat and was confident in her ability to speak without her voice cracking or sounding strangled.
“Elliot is way too gung ho for this. He wants to just hit these people and damn the consequences. He shows no reservation for what we are about to do.”
Catie let that hang between them for a moment. She actually looked around; almost like she was afraid that somebody might overhear them. Since the closest person was two stories above their heads and not paying them the slightest bit of attention as he or she walked the edge of the cleared out hotel floor, it was highly unlikely that anybody could discern anything they were saying.
Still, when she spoke, Catie made it a point to lower her voice and keep her lips from moving as much as she was able. “Just what exactly are you saying?”
“I am saying that he either needs to be neutralized or eliminated.” Marty’s eyes showed almost no emotion as he spoke. This was simple fact for him, and it was obvious. “If he won’t step aside willingly, then we kill him. You are the one who put this plan into motion. It is too late to change it now.”
“Wait!” Catie fought to keep from raising her hands for added emphasis. “We just got here. We are either guests or prisoners depending on how you look at it. There are a good number of people here. Do you really think we can just kill their leader and take over with nobody raising a fuss?”
“You were out for a while. I haven
’t slept since we got here. I have walked around and seen these people for myself. Most of them are drones. They have either managed to escape being hunted and are just happy to be alive, or they are kids that have been snatched up. In any case, you saw it for yourself today. These people are not fighters. There is a core group of about ten that do all of the nasty work. We might have trouble with them, but other than that, this place is like a Hollywood set. If you look behind that curtain, you will see it is mostly smoke and mirrors. Why else do you think that they haven’t launched an actual assault on Montague? They don’t have the manpower. This place is built for defense.”
Catie looked around. She readjusted her appraisal of this area. She had absolutely noticed that this place was big on holding a defensible position; but until this moment, she had not considered that it might be simply because they were not combat ready. Seriously, this far into the zombie apocalypse she just did not see how any culture could survive without having a certain degree of warlike ability.
Was this some sort of post-apocalyptic Athens? A society capable of functioning, but not adept in the fighting skills so necessary in this world of lawless chaos? And perhaps the whole Beastie Boy thing was nothing more than an image. Once again, she was looking at a Wizard of Oz sort of scheme. As long as nobody peeked behind the curtain, then those in the surrounding area were kept at bay by a façade maintained by a select few.
“Are you certain that I should remove Elliot from power and take over?” Catie asked softly, her mind whirling with the possibilities.
“I think my brother and I are as bad of a choice as Elliot. We would let this place go to our heads. Pretty soon I am sitting on some throne made of skulls having naked serving girls feeding me grapes or some shit.”
Catie stifled a laugh. “Given this a lot of thought, have you?”
