by AJ Powers
Shelton felt comforted with Clay’s response. Clay had become a good friend—a loyal friend—over the years. After what he and his family had been through the past few days, tagging along for a risky prisoner swap was a slightly bigger favor to ask than borrowing a cup of sugar. Shelton’s face went grim as he spoke, “For several years, I feared this day would come,” he spoke quietly, as if to make sure he wasn’t heard by those behind him. “I even sent people out to look for them.”
“I’m sorry?” Clay replied.
Shelton realized his out-loud thinking would be confusing to anyone who didn’t know the story.
“So you know these people?” Clay asked.
After a moment, Shelton nodded. “I do,” he said. “Well, Arlo and Brendan, anyway.”
Clay glanced over his shoulder at the wagon, the sneer still on Brendan’s face. “What happened?” Clay asked as he returned his focus to the path ahead.
“Arlo and Brendan used to live in Liberty, even back before the eruptions,” Shelton replied.
“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say their departure from town was not of their own volition,” Clay said.
“That’s a pretty accurate assessment,” Shelton said before briefly getting lost in his thoughts, replaying history in fast forward to come up with an appropriate summary of the past. “It was about three months after Yellowstone. Things weren’t totally upside down just yet, but everyone knew those days were ahead. Food and supplies were already slowing, and first responders sometimes took up to twelve hours to arrive, if they came at all.”
Clay nodded along. “I still remember those days. Even though I didn’t believe it, I was hopeful that things would eventually return to normal,” Clay said, followed by a dry laugh.
“Some folks back in town held out hope, too, but those of us on the town’s security council had to plan for the worst-case scenario—we were on our own. For good.”
“It’s a good thing you did, because obviously, you were on your own,” Clay responded. “But how do Arlo and Brendan play into this?”
“As I mentioned before, we formed a town security council shortly after the eruptions. We had several other men and women involved—including Arlo. Arlo had been a district attorney in the next county over. The man was a brilliant attorney but as shrewd as they came. Our paths didn’t cross much before the collapse—I probably knew more about him from newspapers and internet headlines than personal conversations—but once things started to go south, we all knew he would be a valuable member to our community,” Shelton said.
“How so?” Clay responded.
“He made significant contributions to our town’s defensive measures. He had an insight into criminal behavior that most of us couldn’t comprehend and that intuition saved the people of Liberty a lot of grief on more than a few occasions.
“Arlo was a rising star and had made many friends with local police and government officials over the years. Those connections gave us access to some critical resources, while there were some left, anyway.”
“Wow,” Clay said, annoyed with the hint of admiration in his voice.
“I can’t say that I really ever cared for Arlo all that much as a person, but his contributions to the foundation of our town’s self-reliant state were invaluable. To be perfectly honest, if it weren’t for him, we might not have made it through that first winter.”
Clay’s natural response was to have respect for the man who played such a crucial role in Liberty’s establishment, but after personally digging a half-dozen graves the other day, Clay still visualized a bloody death for the man. “So, what happened?” Clay asked.
“It was greed!” Shelton said, his words wrought with anger. His body stiffened and his hands shook. There was a twitch in his cheek as he clenched his jaw. He took a deep breath before continuing. “That first winter had been rough. Food and supplies were already stretched thin and we had no choice but to get creative on how to make the remaining supplies go even further. We had established a community food bank, which we heavily regulated—only so much food per person per week. And, if you were able-bodied, you were expected to work for those rations.”
“That seems fair,” Clay said. “I assume Arlo disagreed?”
“No, he was fine with it, but what he wasn’t okay with was people keeping their own food and supplies from before the eruptions. He didn’t agree that the citizens should have undistributed food caches in their home. So, he proposed we go door to door and confiscate all food and medical supplies that had not been issued by the town.” Shelton took another deep breath to try and calm himself. He had had maybe twelve hours of restless sleep since the attacks and many more still to come. Finally, he continued, “What’s worse, Clay, is that most of the people that already had food stored in their house rarely took food from the community pool. Only some perishables, like milk and eggs. And they often donated some of their own stock to the community as supplies dipped. It was more than reasonable that they hang on to what was theirs from before.”
“So, the people who had the good sense to prepare ahead of time were told to donate their food…or else?”
“Pretty much, although Arlo felt it was only fair to take a quarter of the confiscated items and distribute it amongst the newly formed town government—of which he was part of.”
The true motives were revealed. It wasn’t about the greater good of the town; it was an opportunity to proliferate his own personal fortune. Once the ash fell, a man’s true character surfaced.
“I assume that idea didn’t fly with the rest of you?” Clay said.
“It didn’t, but just barely. The vote shouldn’t have even been close, yet it was seven to six. I had a good mind to smack each one of the ‘yes’ votes upside the head. When I vented about it to Sarah, she reminded me that everyone is just scared and that it’s easier to rationalize questionable decision under such pressure. I still detested their votes, but her words helped me to see things from their view.
“Fortunately, the idea quickly faded away for everyone who voted in favor of the motion. Except for one person.”
The pieces started to fit together now.
“Almost immediately following the vote, Arlo started swindling people out of their personal reserves. He told them that if they didn’t cooperate, he would personally see to it they never got food from the community pool.”
“That’s sick!” Clay commented.
“It was. But what were the people to do? Everyone in town was already terrified about the unknown and having their names scratched off the supply list was threatening enough to get most people to cave.”
“How long did he get away with it?”
“It went on for about six months. He walked around from house to house in the middle of the night, demanding payment like he was part of the mafia or something. But once we found out about his little racket, he was kicked off the council and warned of the steep consequences that would occur if he continued harassing people.
“About a week later, Jasper, the man who first came to us about Arlo’s scheme, was found beaten half to death in a field just outside town. That was strike three for Arlo.”
“Good Lord,” Clay gasped. Ever since finding Liberty years ago, he just assumed that the town’s bright, optimistic manner had always been, as if they jumped into the apocalypse head first, ready to be a beacon of hope in the world. But, as is all too familiar to Clay, most stories of hope are peppered with darkness. “Were you sure it was him before you kicked them out?”
Shelton sighed again. “Not entirely, no. And I’ll be the first to admit that we should have been certain before coming to such a serious conclusion. However, we were vindicated when Jasper finally regained consciousness and confirmed our suspicions.”
Clay shook his head. “I had no idea,” he said, stunned from it all.
Shelton pressed his lips together and nodded. It was obvious that, regardless of the justification behind the decision, banishing the man and his son from
the community still gnawed at the mayor’s conscience. Sending a man out into the wild was not far off from signing his death warrant.
“For years, I expected him to retaliate, but after five years had gone by, I figured if they hadn’t already died, that they were settled in well enough elsewhere to just let sleeping dogs lie.” Shelton released his grasp on the reins and cleaned his glasses with the cuff of his shirt. “Guess I was wrong.”
Shelton battled a myriad of emotions and with the group closing in on the park, Clay stopped prodding so they could be prepared for the exchange.
The roads became more chaotic as they got closer to the park, making it difficult for the convoy to traverse. While the others helped maneuver the wagon around obstacles, or push decaying car husks off to the side of the road, Clay kept his eyes peeled in every direction. Distractions, such as clearing a path on a road, made for an opportunistic ambush. With one hand on the reins and the other firmly attached to his LaRue, Clay covered the group as they plowed through the last mile.
The park was in even worse shape than Clay expected. Nature had once again reclaimed what it felt entitled to. As the group closed in on the meeting location, they saw a body hanging from a tree. The ominous sight of rotting flesh and exposed bone suggested it had been there for weeks, if not months. The body hung like a puppet, swaying ever so slightly in the gentle breeze that was persuading the last of the leaves to let go of the branches. The corpse was an appropriate decoration for the mood in the air.
Shelton held up his hand and the party came to a stop. Both Clay and Shelton climbed off their horses and walked about thirty yards over to a pavilion next to a kid’s water playground. Shortly after reaching the decaying structure, Arlo and another man rounded the corner of the park’s rec center. Good to his word, it was just Arlo and one other man approaching. As the men advanced, Clay felt a familiar spike of adrenaline and anxiety. It was a feeling he never got used to; he hated the tightness in his chest that came with it, but the heightened senses kept his focus razor sharp.
Clay heard a waver in his breath that was in sync with the thump in his chest. He looked over at Shelton for some words of encouragement, but felt like he was looking into a magic mirror that projected the future—Shelton was as apprehensive as he was.
“Barry, so glad you could make it,” Arlo said as he stepped onto the poured concrete platform. “I do hope your travels were smooth.”
“Where are they?” Shelton asked gruffly, brushing past Arlo’s greeting.
“Come on, Barry, there’s no reason why we can’t keep this civil,” Arlo replied. The look on Shelton’s face suggested otherwise. “But, I suppose in the interest of time we can get right down to business.” Arlo looked past Clay and Shelton to the wagon of prisoners. “I assume my boys are all in good health, yes?”
“They’re still breathing,” Shelton replied, trying to sound as cold-hearted as his counterpart standing in front of him. Sounding scared and defeated would only add to Arlo’s already over-inflated confidence.
“Hmm. Well, I suppose an exchange is in order then.” Arlo looked over at the man he was with and nodded.
The man took one of his hands off his CZ Scorpion and made a hand signal back toward the rec center. Shortly after, several armed men rounded the corner with a little less than a dozen kids and a few older prisoners. Shelton turned around and whistled, prompting Stevens and Horton to jump off the wagon.
“So, how did you get your hands on that?” Shelton asked, nodding toward the armed man’s short-barreled carbine.
Arlo smiled. “There are benefits to being me,” he replied with a leer.
The sound of whimpering and soft cries was the first indication that the kids were near. They walked in a line, tied together at their wrists. Clay looked at each face as they passed.
“Son!” Arlo said, his face lighting up with a genuine smile as Stevens and Horton escorted their prisoners to the exchange point.
Brendan walked up and gave Arlo a hug. “Good to see you, Dad.”
Arlo put his hand on Brendan’s shoulder and gave him a squeeze. “I trust that our old friend, Mayor Shelton, treated you well?”
Brendan made a sour face. “Not exactly a five-star hotel,” he said as he glared at Shelton, “but I suppose it could have been worse.”
Just then, Clay caught a glimpse of her face—Olesya. Both Clay and Shelton immediately noticed the bruising and swelling around her eye.
Arlo turned to see what they were staring at. “Ahh, yes,” he said, “that one is a bit feisty. She nearly killed one of my men with a broken bottle.” He turned back to look Shelton in the eye. “Not very lady-like of her, huh?”
Shelton was seething, but refused to let his anger take control—at least not while Arlo could still harm the kids. After fighting the urge to give Arlo an up close and personal introduction with the business end of his Browning Hi Power, Shelton was finally able to calm himself enough to speak. “Arlo, if you so much as touch a hair on another person in my town…”
Arlo was unconcerned with Shelton’s vague threat. He looked at the last of the children walking by then back at Shelton. “Whether any more of your people get hurt or not is not up to me—it’s entirely up to you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shelton replied.
“Ten years ago, you gave me an impossible choice to make. Now, my dear friend, I am returning the favor.”
Brendan revealed that sinister grin that caused Clay to cringe.
“You and your people have seven days to vacate the town,” Arlo said.
Shelton felt as if he had just been punched in the gut by a gorilla. The rage boiling in his blood had gone stone cold with Arlo’s words. His demeanor transformed from an angry, protective father to that of a little boy being bullied on the playground. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, his words disrupted by a tremble. “Is this how you’re getting back at us?”
Arlo scoffed. “Do you really think I am that petty, Barry? I assure you, the history between us is just that—history. This is not personal; it’s just business.”
“Just business?” Shelton responded. “How is this ‘just business?’”
“It took me a while to find my footing out here, but once I did, things have been going quite well. As you can see,” Arlo gestured toward the men standing guard behind him, “And, as luck would have it, a few months ago I ran into an old friend who, like me, had taken a sizeable group under his wing. We decided it would be in our best interests to combine arms—to work together and build something great!” Arlo’s lips slowly bent into a belligerent smile. “Unfortunately, for your precious town anyway, we’ve outgrown our current accommodations and need a more suitable location. It just so happens that Liberty is the perfect fit. Like I said, just business.”
Shelton’s silence was music to Arlo’s ears. “And if we don’t leave?” Shelton asked, almost timidly.
Arlo took a comb out of his pocket and ran it through his greasy, black hair. The grin on his face faded and his malevolent eyes narrowed. “Well,” he said as he leaned in toward Shelton’s ear, “I do believe that’s a bridge you don’t want to cross.”
Chapter 21
Bed…It was only twenty feet away, yet might as well have been in El Paso. Since returning late last night with Shelton and the kids, Clay had been unable to find more than five consecutive minutes to sleep. After observing the tearful reunion between Vlad and Olesya, Clay was pulled into meeting after meeting with Shelton and the other town leaders to discuss the situation with Arlo.
Clay hadn’t been expecting a thirty-six-hour day to cap off the hellish week he had been through. Though he was grateful to be on the right side of the soil, he felt like death. Ignoring the call of the comfortable, over-sized mattress upstairs, Clay still had one last matter to address before bed and he dreaded it.
Clay checked his watch as he tapped his feet on the hardwood floor of Vlad’s living room. A brew of exhaustion and frustration came out in the f
orm of a sigh while he waited for everyone to arrive. He felt a soft, reassuring hand on his arm, gently stroking his bicep. Ordinarily, Kelsey’s touch brought immediate relief to any angst-filled situation, but not tonight. In fact, her caress seemed to make him feel worse.
Geoff and Ruth came downstairs about the time Megan and Lona walked in, fresh off their shift at the infirmary, which was evident by the bags under their eyes and the stains on their clothes. A few minutes later, Blake had returned with Levi and Dusty; everyone was present.
Every eye in the room was fixed on Clay, expecting an update on what had happened—except for Kelsey, who sat on the couch, staring at the floor; she already knew what Clay was about to say and it took her every ounce of strength to keep her composure.
“So, what’s going on?” Megan asked.
“Well,” Clay said before pausing for a moment. He racked his brain to find the right words, but all that managed to come out was, “Liberty is preparing for war.”
Clay’s words hung heavy in the air like storm clouds on the horizon. A rogue sniffle from Kelsey was the only thing that broke the palpable silence.
“The men who attacked us last week…that wasn’t just some random strike by a bunch of bandits. It was carried out by someone who knows this town very well…” Clay shut his eyes for a minute as the room began to spin a little. “Listen, I don’t have it in me to go into all the details right now, but the man made it abundantly clear: in seven days, he and his crew will be back to take over this town,” Clay said. He took a deep breath before adding, “One way or another.”
