Darker Days (As the Ash Fell Book 2)

by AJ Powers

  “Where’s some power armor when you need it?” Clay mumbled.

  “Huh?” Megan glanced back.

  “Nothing,” Clay replied with a nostalgic smile.

  A mile down the road Clay had finally spotted a road marker. He wanted to collect as much geographical information as he could so he could accurately re-locate the cabin on the map when they got back to the FEMA camp.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Megan asked.

  “We walk. Except for the occasional rest stop, we don’t quit walking until we need to find a place to set up camp for the night,” Clay said matter-of-factly. “Unless,” he continued, “that is, we happen to see a hospital or gun store with a neon OPEN sign glowing in the window.”

  “So, we’re done scavenging?”

  “You got room in your bag over there?”

  “Good point,” she quickly conceded.

  “Plus, we should just be a day or two out from Liberty, so, we’re obviously running a bit behind schedule. We can poke around the places we stay for the night, but we’re at a point where if we take something, we’re probably going to have to leave something behind anyway.”

  With the game plan settled, the two trekked quietly down the road, focusing on their movements for nearly an hour before Megan broke the silence.

  “Do you think it’s worth it?”

  “Is what worth it?” Clay replied.

  “This,” Megan said, gesturing to their present situation, “Liberty…this war.”

  “You tell me,” Clay said before puffing for some air, “you’re out here risking your life for the town.”

  “No. I’m here risking my life for the people in the town.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “I mean I get why Mayor Shelton made a stand,” Megan continued, “and I even get digging in and trying to tough it out, but I mean…at some point you gotta throw in the towel. At the end of the day, it’s just a place. You can always find somewhere else to live, but you can’t bring back the dead.”

  Clay had pondered the very same questions in recent weeks. Although he had a bit more skin in the game than Megan—given his history with the little town—he, too, wondered why Shelton was going to go down with the ship while there were still life rafts hanging off the boat. The more Clay thought about it, however, he started to see, perhaps, what Shelton saw.

  “Well, to be honest, if you had asked me that question the other night—before our talk—I probably would have had a much different answer,” Clay said, trying to catch his breath as he walked. “But, to these people, it isn’t just some place where they survive…it’s not just a home, something they’d be willing to trade for a bigger and better model someday down the road. It isn’t even just a community of friends and family that they’ve grown to love. I think it’s bigger than all that. The town itself is a sign of hope. A hope that is starting to fade for a lot of people...present company included.”

  Megan’s head hung low with the response.

  “So,” Clay continued, “here we are, walking side by side down a snowy road, God knows how far from the nearest person we know, all on the slim hopes that the supplies we’ve found over the past couple of weeks will somehow make a difference,” Clay said before laughing ironically. “I mean you are willingly risking your life for a town you visit maybe a few times a year, because it, and the people, mean something to you, too. So, think about how much more it means to those who helped build a community, literally, from the ashes.”

  Megan’s silence was louder than any words she could have spoken.

  “So, to answer your question, I don’t know if it’s worth it,” Clay said, his answer catching Megan by surprise. “But, so long as they stay and fight, I will, too.”

  Chapter 45

  Dusty was filled with both pride and shame as she stood in front of Shelton and Kohler. The hurt in the old man’s eyes when he realized she had deceived him was less than subtle, tugging at a string in her heart that rarely got plucked.

  That hurt, however, quickly shifted to hope as Dusty uttered three powerful words: “I found them.”

  She went on in great detail, from every sniper perch she had uncovered to the path Arlo’s men took on their way to Liberty. With her scratchy throat drying up from the hours-long debrief, she ended the discussion by relaying what the one man had said—about the rumors of Arlo receiving reinforcements from someone called the Judge. The name didn’t sound familiar to either of them, which made it all the more perplexing to Dusty.

  “Outstanding job, Dusty!” Kohler said with optimism filling his voice. He stood to his feet and gave a salute. “Go get some chow, and if they give you any grief about waking them up or the extra rations, you tell them to come see me.”

  Dusty returned the salute. “Yes, sir!” The teenaged girl spun around on the ball of her foot and walked out of the house.

  Kohler immediately looked over at Shelton, who still sat on the couch. “Barry, I know what you’re thinking: I was way out of line to send her out against your wishes, but—”

  “Yes, you were out of line, Captain,” Shelton interrupted, silencing the veteran. He slowly made his way to his feet and walked over to Kohler. “And you had every right to do so.”

  “I know but—” Kohler said before registering Shelton’s words. After a brief pause, he continued, “Uhm, I beg your pardon?”

  “Daniel…I have no right making these types of calls. I’ve never been to war; I never even served in the military. I don’t belong in this kind of role, telling a man who knows far more than me how to do his job.”

  “Permission to speak freely, sir?” Kohler said.

  Shelton sighed, frustrated that the man had still not learned that he didn’t have to ask permission for that. “Go ahead.”

  “You have had some critical errors in your judgment since this war started,” Kohler stated bluntly.

  Shelton started to regret giving him permission.

  “But, you have done an excellent job leading the men and women of this town for so many years. There’s no doubt in my mind that this town wouldn’t even be here to defend if it hadn’t been for your superb leadership, hard work, and self-sacrifices.”

  Shelton felt a little better after hearing the second half of Kohler’s statement. “Well, I do appreciate the kind words, Captain, but I am feeling like the furthest thing from a good leader right about now.”

  “A leader can’t be expected to do it all. You’ve more than proved that you would never ask anyone in this town to do something you wouldn’t do yourself, but that doesn’t mean you should do it yourself. A good leader knows when to take charge and when to hand off the reins.”

  Shelton stood in silence as he reflected on the statement. “You’re right, Captain,” Shelton said, “which is why, effective immediately, you are in charge of this town.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you doing, Barry?”

  “Being a good leader, knowing when to hand off the reins to a more capable individual.”

  Kohler shook his head, “That was not what I was getting at, sir. I was just saying that sometimes you’ve got to just trust other people to do their jobs, even if you aren’t sold on the idea yourself.”

  “I understand, Captain, but I also realize that I am no longer the leader this town needs. You are.”

  Kohler was honored that Shelton thought so highly of him, but the unexpected turn of events didn’t sit well with him. “Sir, I don’t know if this is the best idea. To be honest, I think it will do more harm for morale than good.”

  “Then we don’t tell anyone—at least not until after this war is behind us.”

  “Wait a second,” Kohler said, analyzing Shelton’s last statement, “’until after this war is behind us?’”

  Shelton walked over to the kitchen and poured himself some water. He took several large gulps before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Daniel, you have been by my side almost every step of the way since this town was founded. You’ve let
me bounce ideas off you; you’ve provided me with invaluable counsel. I tasked you with important jobs because I knew they would always be done right…” Shelton finished off the water before wiping the glass down with a rag and replacing it in the cupboard. “You said if it weren’t for me, this town wouldn’t have made it. But, the truth of the matter is, if it hadn’t been for you, I would not have been nearly as effective at my job as I was.”

  “Sir, I don’t know…”

  “You know how much this town and each and every person in it means to me,” Shelton said.

  “Without a doubt, sir.”

  “Then you understand that I would never make a decision that I didn’t think was in the town’s best interest.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kohler agreed.

  “Daniel, I did not come to this conclusion lightly. It’s been one I have been considering even before this war even started. But, as I stand here right this moment, I don’t believe I could make a better decision for the people of this town than to put them in such capable hands.”

  Kohler was speechless.

  Shelton extended his hand. “Take good care of them, Captain.”

  Kohler reached out and firmly shook Shelton’s hand. “Thank you, sir.”

  Noticing the fatigue in his eyes, Kohler said, “You look dog-tired, Barry. You should try and get some rest.”

  Shelton nodded. “Yeah, I think I’ll do that,” the old man said as he turned and headed for the stairs.

  The single-digit air assailed Kohler’s lungs as he stepped out onto the porch and headed to his own house. It was late—easily past midnight—but he had stopped looking at his watch weeks ago. Anymore, there were only two hours in a day: daylight and night.

  The newly appointed mayor of Liberty swung by his house, picking up the last map in his possession, and then made a beeline to the mess hall. He received a wrathful glare from Estelle, who waited for Dusty to finish her meal so she could lock up for the night—again.

  “Why don’t you go home, Estelle, I’ll see to it that everything is secure before I leave,” Kohler said.

  The old woman grumbled something under her breath before putting her coat on and walking out.

  Kohler sat across the table from Dusty, who had plated as much food as she could get away with. Given everything the girl had been through over the past couple of weeks, he wasn’t about to comment on her indulgence—especially after the success of her most recent mission.

  “How ya feeling?”

  “Better now,” Dusty mumbled through a mouthful of instant potatoes.

  “So, I meant to ask earlier, but…what’s that about?” Kohler asked, gesturing to the blood-soaked sleeve.

  Dusty looked at her arm. “Oh, that? Well, I guess I don’t have to tell you that interrogation is a dirty business,” she said, giving the captain a deceptive smile. After the good, long cry she had endured in the woods, she managed to rebuild the wall that had crumbled down. But as images of the fatal wound she delivered to Rhett came to the front of her mind, she suddenly lost her appetite. Putting her plastic spoon down, Dusty nodded toward the folded map in Kohler’s hand. “What’s that about?” she asked, relieved to change subjects.

  Dusty moved her tray of food to the next table over as Kohler unfolded the map and placed it in front of them. He pointed out Liberty’s location to Dusty and asked her to locate Arlo’s camp.

  “It’s riiiiiight…” she said as her finger hovered around the map, “there!” She gave the map a definitive tap with her finger.

  “You’re sure?”

  Dusty picked at some food stuck in her teeth with her tongue before answering, “Positive.”

  Kohler used a red Sharpie to circle the area. Using the scale provided on the map, he used his finger and thumb to guesstimate distance. “Looks like it’s a shade over eight miles away—as the crow flies.”

  “Yep,” Dusty said as she took a swig of water from her bottle, “that seems about right.”

  “All right, Dusty, I know it’s late and you’re tired, but I need you to tell me everything you remember about this place. Layout, approach, nearby cars…whatever you can recall.”

  With Morgan in her thoughts, Dusty gave Kohler a sincere smile, the first one since her friend’s death. “I’ve got nothing else to do tonight,” she said, vengeance on her mind.

  Liberty had endured her share of beatings for long enough—it was now time to return the favor. Tenfold.

  Chapter 46

  Arlo tapped his foot as he waited for over an hour on a bench just outside the Judge’s “chambers.” He had detested the self-importance the man felt entitled to back when the two regularly met in the courtroom, but it had grown beyond absurdity since society collapsed. It wasn’t that Arlo was exempt from a bit of narcissism himself, but from the moment the Judge recruited his first minion, a dirty corrections officer who had been in his back pocket for years, he was no longer just some high-ranking official in the judicial system; he was a god in his own eyes.

  It didn’t take long for the crooked cop to round up a sizeable gang of criminals to do the Judge’s bidding. With a relationship built on smuggling contraband inside the prison, the drug dealers, murderers, and rapists had no problem teaming up with the well-known officer.

  The judge was no more corrupt in the fallen society than he was when he sat on the bench; the only difference was that the rule of law—as far as the US Constitution saw it—no longer existed. The judge had his law—and to break it was to sign your own death warrant.

  Arlo heard footsteps on the other side of the door just before it popped open. A short, Hispanic man stepped out. “He’s ready for you,” is all he said before turning around and walking back inside.

  Arlo followed the man down a long, narrow hallway. As they walked, they passed numerous windows and doors, each one looking into a depressing, jail cell-sized office; they were all equipped with the exact same desk, chair, and pair of cream-colored filing cabinets.

  As they reached the door at the end of the hallway, Arlo’s eyes couldn’t roll back far enough at the sight of the handmade plaque hanging on the wall.

  Hon. Joseph Patrick

  Arlo’s escort knocked twice.

  “Come in,” a muffled voice called from the other side.

  The man opened the door and walked inside, Arlo followed closely behind.

  The room easily swallowed four of the smaller offices just down the hall, and with room to spare. The beautiful Mahogany desk and the hand-stitched, leather chair no doubt came with a heftier price tag than the Swedish-made counterparts the rest of the former employees were issued. Sitting in the corner at a forty-five-degree angle was a tall armoire that looked as if it had been cut from the same tree as the desk. The office screamed executive, but still wasn’t quite as posh as the Texas-native judge would have decorated his own. However, it worked for the interim.

  “Thank you, Lorenzo. We’ll just be a moment,” the stocky man with an unfortunate comb-over said from behind the desk, nodding toward the door.

  “Yes, your honor.” Lorenzo slipped out the door, quietly latching it behind him.

  “Have a seat, Arlo,” the judge said. It was not so much an invitation as it was an order.

  Arlo sat down. “Thank you for seeing me today, your honor. I know that it’s quite difficult to pencil people in on such short notice with such a hectic schedule,” Arlo said, still irritated with his lengthy wait in the hallway.

  “Boy, I sure hope you didn’t come all this way just to show me how dry your wit is,” he replied with his heavy, southern accent.

  “Of course not, sir,” Arlo quickly backpedaled, sensing the annoyance in his tone.

  “Then, I do hope it’s because we’re all set to move in,” he said as he rolled up the sleeves on his Brunello Cucinelli button down, a shirt that cost more than a week of take home for some of his clerks back in the day.

  “Soon. Very soon,” he said confidently.

  “Oh, you’re gonna have to do
a whole lot better than ‘soon’, Arlo.”

  Arlo gave a nervous smile. Even though he found the man despicable, he still needed him. For now. “Unfortunately, your honor, the people in this town were a bit more resolute than I had initially expected.”

  “Mmmmhmmmm,” the judge said, as he leaned back in his chair and rested his folded hands on his stomach. “So, we’ve established that your visit isn’t just a social call, and you’re not here with the keys to my new home…” he leaned forward, transferring his clasped hands from his stomach to the desk. “Then tell me, Arlo, what is it exactly that you want from me today?”

  Getting straight to the point, which was how the judge liked it, Arlo said, “Well, sir, it would be quite advantageous to us—and our commission—if we could add to our numbers slightly.”

  “You want more men?” he said in disbelief.

  “Yes. Our efforts have been quite effective thus far, but—”

  "Not quite effective enough, it would seem,” the agitated man barked back.

  Arlo lost his cool. “Well, if you would just let me finish what I was saying, Joseph, I would—”

  “Your honor!” he shouted, interrupting Arlo again.

  Arlo suppressed his indignation with the outburst and calmly continued. “Please forgive me. As I was saying, your honor, my men have successfully worn down this town’s defenses. Our recent aggressions have indicated to us that they are low on supplies and would not be able to sustain another large-scale attack.”