“What’s his name?”
“Hugh,” Tom replied – and even though it felt stupid, he added, “Hugh, son of Anders.”
The Safety chief snorted as if that was all the confirmation required.
“Exactly,” he said. “Caught up with Akira and his ancestor-worshipping cultists.”
“Cultists?”
Tom was sick of his own lame-sounding rhetorical questions. Ortega only agreed, hooking his thumbs into the webbing of his ammo harness, the rifle slung across his back as Tom’s eyes drifted across to the carnage at the parked truck and the dead woman on grisly display.
“Driver was a woman,” he observed.
“You’ll be a long time waiting if you want anything in this place to make sense.”
Ortega eyed Wilhelm’s back with surprising acrimony, though he snapped his attention back to Tom amid a train of quick assumptions.
“You’re working with Dan MacLaren, right?”
“That’s right,” Tom said.
Ortega nodded slow and thoughtfully.
“Council’s got no appetite for the real work that needs to be done around here,” he said. “Ask MacLaren to come see me, if you see him tomorrow.”
That said, the security chief nodded and moved to join his underlings, and Tom stood with the AR15 cradled uselessly in his arms, nodding to himself as if it meant anything, before walking away himself, back in the direction he’d come.
*
LUCAS RUSHED FOR him the moment Tom re-entered the dining hall, though his father was slightly thrown off to see Lilianna send him just a fey wave, deep in a forced conversation with Beau. The handsome young Administration officer looked just as enmeshed, and Wilhelm’s words about Lilianna finding a place within the Enclave rushed back to Tom.
He gave Lucas a reassuring hug, in no rush to end it and momentarily gladdened to feel the vulnerable boy he remembered. The entire City Council remained in the chamber with them, and President Lowenstein emerged from a huddled briefing to stand a respectful distance away with her eyes on Tom and his son showing restraint despite her usual air of command.
With a final squeeze, Tom set Lucas aside and his son’s tension dialed down a notch.
“Madam President,” Tom said.
The formality was weird and again threw him back to his days as a cub reporter.
Dana Lowenstein gave a forced smile, impatiently waiting as Lucas peeled away to intrude unwanted on his sister’s chat. Somehow, Tom smiled, despite whatever the growing bond between his daughter and the young man augured for the days to come.
“You’ll have to excuse us tonight,” Lowenstein said. “When Ernie said he wanted to bring you along to thank you for all your efforts, I didn’t realize it’d be the occasion for us airing so much dirty laundry.”
“It didn’t seem that way to me,” Tom lied with an affable smile that was equally as forced as her own.
“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Tom,” she said. “Do you mind if I call you that? I’m Dana.”
“It’s been a long while since I relied on formalities,” he said.
“Yes,” Lowenstein replied. “I heard you were a journalist, once?”
“Once.”
“Not tempted to join Delroy Earle, then?”
“Not the slightest.”
Lowenstein’s smile broke into a more earnest look of relief and he was struck by the stoic handsomeness of the woman, despite her likely interest in her own sex, rather than Tom.
“That’s good to know,” she said. “I support the free press as much as anyone, but. . . .”
Tom allowed her her “but” and also the lack of any further explanation as she let the thought drift off. In Tom’s mind, you either supported a free press or not at all. There were no caveats. But he didn’t let those doubts register on his face and the President moved slightly closer so their conversation was private. Delroy Earle, whatever his Council interests, was nowhere to be seen.
“You’ve had a better insight into the workings of our group now than most people,” she said. “Which side do you think you’ll choose?”
“There’s sides?”
Lowenstein gave a gruff and unamused laugh, too much tiredness in it for levity. She gestured towards the back of the room and the mounted pin-up boards. Since they’d drawn his curiosity earlier, Tom used the excuse to move that way with the President in his wake.
“There’s factions within factions in this place, as you can see,” Lowenstein said.
“And you’re wondering where I sit?” he asked. “I’m new here.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “But something tells me, now that I’ve met you, you’re someone others would listen to. Level-headed. Capable. Not much time for horseshit.”
“Sounds like you’ve got my number,” Tom agreed.
Pages from a downtown street atlas were central to the main pin-up. Like a prop from the old theater, strings of red wool connected pins to index cards tacked haphazardly around the frame, each with its own little write-up on different community leaders and emerging factions. Tom’s quick scan left him bemused. There was no card for the Urchins and whoever their shadowy Fagin-style leader was, and likewise no reference to Akira’s “ancestor worshippers” who were the source of Chief Ortega’s derision.
“Looks like you might’ve missed a few.”
“We always welcome more intel,” Lowenstein said. “One of the trade-offs of the ivory tower’s not keeping an ear to the streets as well as I’d like.”
She stood by his side now close enough to suggest some kind of flirtation if Tom didn’t know better, and he did. This was seduction of a much more political bent.
“Funny,” Tom said in a tone that left no doubts he wasn’t much amused. “I don’t see any of your Council factions here.”
“Our factions?”
The President raised an eyebrow, but what she’d said earlier came back to haunt her. Tom wasn’t swallowing any bullshit either, and trying to bluff that there weren’t Council divisions was a waste of effort. Her skepticism collapsed into a wry smile and Lowenstein turned and cast her eye back over the different huddles in the room right at the moment Ernest Eric Wilhelm III and his partner walked back in, a palpable unease between the romantic coupling obvious in the distance between them.
Tom turned back to the President.
“You asked me which side I was going to choose,” he said. “And I didn’t think you were asking me if I’m one of these male supremacists Chief Ortega’s worried about.”
“No,” Lowenstein said and sighed.
She followed Tom’s eyes to the unhappy-looking couple.
“Councilor Deschain is tired,” the President said. “I mean . . . fuck, being honest here Tom, we’re all tired . . . but some of us are losing the heart for the fight. Or at least that’s how it seems.”
“Wilhelm?”
“Ernie’s staunch,” Lowenstein said with an air that encouraged Tom to keep his doubts to himself. “It’s not easy for them. Shacked up when we were just three hundred people trying to make a go of it in an abandoned Air Force base. We’ve come a long way since, and wouldn’t have got anywhere without those two helping guide us every step of the way.”
There was a spike of volume in the room coming from Colonel Rhymes, motioning irritably at another clean-cut Administration recruit who looked to be trying to guide him by one elbow from the room. It conjured another faint laugh from the Council President, not that Lowenstein looked anywhere near amused either.
“Then there’s him, huh?” Tom said.
“Carlotta’s tired and thinks maybe the Herald is right, we should be thinking about elections and some kind of transition of power,” Lowenstein said. “The Colonel’s old. Aileen Leng and Shakes Ben-Gurion . . . the man’s a genius – hell, they both are – though Abe’s more on the smartass end of the spectrum. And they won’t be around forever.”
Tom said nothing and the President cracked him another one of those raised eyebrows made t
heatric under her hard dyke’s fringe.
As if dissatisfied with his candor, Lowenstein added, “Aileen’s pushing seventy and has a blood disorder. Abe’s got MS, and there’s nothing like the medicine he needs and he knows it. Only makes him worse, really.”
“His condition?”
“Yes,” she said. “But I meant his . . . care-factor. Knowing he’s only got a few years more before the deterioration hits him completely, he takes his . . . devil’s advocate role right to the edge, sometimes.”
“I gather he’s not in your inner circle, then.”
Lowenstein said nothing, but Tom detected her nuanced freeze at the mention.
“What about new blood?” he asked more brightly. “Dr Hamilton seems smart. A few people out of sorts, the way you co-opted him as an adjunct or whatever you call it.”
Tom wasn’t even sure he should be part of this conversation. Compliance felt like acquiescence, and there was nothing he wanted less than for the Council President or Councilor Wilhelm or even Colonel Rhymes to think they could coerce him into becoming another fawning lackey.
“David’s a brilliant immunologist in a world that needs mechanics, plumbers, and engineers,” Lowenstein said. “And troopers. Don’t forget that. Is it true, some of the dead gunmen tonight were Department of Safety assigned to Foragers patrols?”
“Afraid so.”
“You knew one of them.”
It wasn’t a question, but rather a strategic disclosure, Lowenstein flexing her muscles to show Tom she knew things about things he didn’t even know existed yet. He smiled nonetheless.
“Not really.”
Lowenstein pursed her lips, no longer interested in the pin-up board. Her hard brown-eyed gaze sought out the Australian scientist where he’d moved across to continue his good-natured jockeying with Lucas, throwing Lilianna an inadvertent lifeline to keep chatting with Beau undisturbed by any annoying little brothers. A lightness shone in the scientist’s eyes.
“David’s as brilliant as any of the others,” the President said. “I wouldn’t have tapped him for a place on Council if he weren’t. He’s . . . damaged, though. Deeply wounded. I don’t know the story.”
“He had kids,” Tom said with no proof other than his own observations.
The President nodded.
“No one’s got the story out of him yet,” she said. “He’s a fish out of water. Or a ‘shrimp off the barbie’ or whatever they might say. His family’s the Council now, or that’s how I see it.”
Tom didn’t say anything to that, and they stood there long enough that Tom could discern the tiredness in his son’s drawn face as he playacted with Dr Hamilton in return. The scientist offered the boy a handful of wrapped sweets Lucas took eagerly, but there was nothing in the foreigner’s demeanor to put Tom on edge except a deep well of barely-guarded sadness.
Lowenstein’s casual words slapped Tom awake.
“Ernie thinks you found something in the wreck and you’re not telling.”
Now she rounded on him with the full, but passive force of her gaze.
“That’s not true, is it, Tom?” she asked. “You’re not holding out on us?”
This wasn’t Tom’s first rodeo. His half-smile at his son’s antics stayed locked in place as he exhaled slowly and deliberately met the stern woman’s powerful stare.
“I hoped there’d be a handgun or something in the cockpit,” Tom said and shrugged, uneasy sometimes at his own ease at bending the truth and making outright lies sound somehow plausible – even to himself.
“No dice,” he said. “But I got my weapon back from the arsenal – one of them, anyway – so, not such a big deal now.”
The Council President nodded and dropped her intensity as if it wasn’t a big deal either, and as soon as he could comfortably allow it, Tom excused himself and then extracted his children from their huddles and headed home to bed.
*
Six killed in City firefight
by Delroy Earle
A Department of Safety trooper is dead and five gunmen were killed in a shock firefight outside the City Armory last night.
A Safety crackdown has immediately gone into effect, with Chief Ortega personally overseeing searches and a round-up of close associates believed connected to the incident.
Most Citizens heard the gunplay which erupted just before Curfew and followed the weekly City Council meeting.
Sources with knowledge of the incident said at least two of the dead gunmen were rogue troopers assigned to Foragers duties.
It was believed the raiders targeted the City’s ammunition supply.
Four gunmen and the driver of a getaway truck were shot dead by City troopers.
City trooper Angel Mendina was killed during a protracted exchange of gunfire.
Chief Ortega told the Herald motives for the attack were unconfirmed.
“Anyone associated with this appalling and cowardly attack on the City will face justice,” he said.
Chief Ortega believed dissidents unhappy with City control of stockpiled ammunition were behind the attack.
“The dead attackers were members of the Brotherhood, so we’ll factor that into the ongoing investigation,” he said.
Councilor Ernest Eric Wilhelm III, who was present during the incident, said he was “appalled” any Citizens would take arms against the Administration.
Foragers chief Edward Burroughs – who has repeatedly denied leading the City’s “male supremacist” Brotherhood movement – told the Herald he didn’t know anyone involved.
“If it’s true there were City troopers involved in this attack, perhaps the Council should be looking at some of the problems I’ve raised repeatedly during meetings,” he said.
“Last winter showed us it doesn’t take much for this place to become a powder keg.”
Mr Burroughs was “not at all surprised” at the apparent insurrection.
Troopers who didn’t want to be named paid tribute to their dead comrade Ms Medina.
However, there were fears the incident could incite revenge attacks.
Council President Dana Lowenstein called for calm.
“We will be strictly enforcing Curfew until peace is restored,” she said.
“All peaceful Citizens should take care with their safety during this brief period of turbulence and the Council asks loyal Citizens to follow all instructions from Security personnel.”
*
TOM SET DOWN the single page newspaper wondering if Delroy Earle had his latest story legalled before rushing to print before dawn, but guessed good defamation lawyers were probably thin on the ground in Columbus these days. The one-off broadsheet was stamped as a “special edition” and carried the usual lineage advertisements on the back featuring the full gamut from chickens for sale to what once would’ve been called “adult services”. Tom crumpled the sheet and twisted it into a stick ready to serve as a firelighter.
He’d agreed to let Lucas go hang out with Einstein and connive them some breakfast, and his son returned with the Herald saying young women working the street for Earle gave the special editions away to anyone they could.
The late summer sun still rose early, giving him and his children a brief moment of solemn quiet as each prepared for the day. It wasn’t the right time – or maybe after the shocking events of the past night, Tom simply lacked the heart to argue his point with Lucas, cooking their eggs on the portable gas stove as Lilianna made like the innocent teenage girl she should’ve been, traipsing back and forth to the bathroom and its slow-flowing faucet and chirping along to happy thoughts about possible work in the Enclave Tom had no idea whether he should fear or not. For all he knew, the offer relied on him rolling over and becoming one of Wilhelm’s pets. He didn’t want to disappoint his daughter, nor thwart her obvious yet unstated wish to get closer to Beau, but Tom couldn’t see any scenario in which becoming yet another of the Council’s trained attack dogs served his family best.
He drifted into the kitchen. Wi
th a studied reluctance undermined by the inevitability of it, he sighed and cracked open the slightly-diminished coffee tin and fixed himself a bitter brew while Lucas and he ate, Lilianna’s eggs and refried beans turning cold as she showered, just as cold, and fussed her hair into an elegant braid. The salvaged computer disc sat neglected on the kitchen bench and Tom fingered it by its donut hole and carefully tucked it away while Lucas eyed him, refreshed and seemingly eager for the day in stark counterpoint to Tom’s own ongoing reluctance. More Reclaimers work beckoned, but clocking in for such basic duties seemed oddly anticlimactic given the previous night. Dkembe emerged from the front room fully dressed and waved off Tom’s not-exactly heartfelt offer of breakfast, though the fresh food and the morning’s eggs bartered by Lucas were already gone.
“Another day, another dollar,” the younger man said.
“I appreciate you fixing the door,” Tom told him. “And being here. Gives me more peace of mind than I could tell you.”
“Well, I just appreciate the chance for somewhere to sleep where I don’t have to worry about getting bit.”
His eyes strayed to the dark stains on the bare floorboards from Laurance’s blood. The irony and ineptness of Dkembe’s words were evident to everyone and somehow the dark-skinned youth blushed.
“Sorry,” he said.
“Me too.”
“And me,” Lucas said.
Tom’s son astonished him by holding Dkembe’s stare, sincerity in every line.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“Hey, you know, it’s cool,” the twenty-something said. “Or, not cool, but, you know, it’s OK. I understand.”
“We’ll get the hang of this, soon enough,” Tom said and poured the remainder of the coffee into another mug and offered it to him. “Strength in numbers, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
With Dkembe gone, Lucas relaxed a little more, and Tom sat watching him get ready as Lilianna appeared and ate only half her meal, her brother finishing off the rest.
“Classes today?” Tom asked the boy.
After The Apocalypse Season 1 Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 35
