by Roger Hayden
“Nonsense,” Layish said loudly. “You couldn’t be more wrong. Why can’t we all work together?”
“For the better of the community,” Phelps added.
“Whatever you say. Just remember, some day he’ll pay for all that he’s done. And you two will be judged right next to him.”
Phelps did a one-eighty and leaned close to Rob. “We have to be careful. Arthur has spies everywhere,” he whispered.
Rob turned to him, his brows raised.
“You appear to be in good health, Mr. Parker,” Layish said loudly. “Try to take it easy on the back.”
“We don’t have much time, so I’ll make this fast,” Phelps continued. “We need to stop him before it’s too late.”
“What are you talking about?” Rob whispered back.
“Dr. Layish and I have been coerced to help him, just like you. He made promises to me as well, and I have to play along.”
Layish then spoke in a whisper. “I heard them talking. Crazy things. Unbelievable things.”
“Like what?” Rob asked.
“Just a couple of days ago, they captured an old army truck and killed the two soldiers driving it. Before he died, one of the soldiers revealed that the military was making its way up here to restore order. It’s taken a while, but it’s happening all over the country.”
Phelps cut in. “Arthur said that if that ever happens, he would see to it that everyone in town was dead.”
“How?” Rob asked. “By shooting them?”
“No,” Layish said. “He doesn’t have the manpower or ammunition for that. He’s going to poison the food supply. He’s calling it The Last Meal. Then he plans to flee. Him and all his men. Just like Jim Jones, leader of the Peoples Temple, and the mass Kool-Aid killings in Guyana.
“The difference,” said Rob, “is that most of those people drank it willingly.”
Phelps tapped Layish on the arm and signaled to the door. Layish perked up, stepped away from Rob, and began speaking loudly again. “So, Mr. Parker. You’re in good health. Just make sure you dress warm out there. You don’t want to catch cold!”
“We don’t know when he plans to do it,” Phelps said quietly. “But if the military come outside those walls, that’s what’s going to happen.”
“Just tell the people what he plans to do,” Rob said.
“I told you,” Phelps said. “He has spies everywhere. Dr. Layish and I have played along far enough. We need to put an end to it.”
“Why are you telling me this? What do you want me to do?” Rob said.
“We’ve both talked secretly of killing him. But we can’t do it. I-I’m a man of God. Dr. Layish, well…”
“You want me to do it?”
Phelps reached into his suit coat and pulled out a switchblade.
“We just need you to get close enough to make it happen.”
“So I think our work is done here, Pastor,” Layish pronounced loudly. “Why don’t we give Rob some time to rest? Big day tomorrow.”
Phelps leaned in close to Rob’s ear. “Tomorrow he’s going to perform another mock ceremony. He wants me to declare him a saint in front of the entire town. I don’t think I can go through with it.”
“I have a family,” Rob said. “A wife and two children. Killing him puts my life in danger, and we don’t even know each other. How can I even trust you?”
“Please,” Phelps said, holding the knife for Rob to take. “It has to be you. You can save these people.”
The outside bolt unlocked as the door creaked open. Phelps pushed the knife into Rob’s hesitant hand. “Please…” he said.
The bearded guard walked in just as Phelps backed away from Rob. “Trust in Arthur,” Phelps said, patting Rob on the shoulder. “Together we can get this community through the winter and beyond.”
The guard watched them suspiciously as Rob slipped the knife into his pocket. “Five minutes are up. Let’s go.”
“Of course,” Layish said, turning to Rob. “Be well, Mr. Parker.” He walked to the door just as Phelps gave Rob one last urgent glance.
“Good day, Mr. Parker,” he said, leaving the room.
The guard remained for a moment and shook his head at Rob. “Like a bunch of snakes in the grass. Arthur will wise up soon and put bullets in your heads. Outsiders.”
Rob said nothing as the guard turned and left. The door swung shut, and Rob slid back down the wall onto the mattress as the bolt slammed home. The cold steel of the switchblade protruded from his pocket. His mind raced with options, and he wasn’t sure what to think of any of it.
What have I gotten myself into now?
***
Over fifty of Clarkson’s vengeance-seeking residents followed behind the Buick LeSabre, relieved as they approached Bear Mountain. The trip had taken hours, with a few rest stops along the way. The roads were wet and sleek. Now that it was evening, there was no other choice but to stay at camp for the night. The people needed rest, and Mila had to deliver news of their plan to everyone else in the camp.
The sheriff was behind the wheel, with Mila in the middle and Carlos in the passenger seat. The backpacks of their sizable entourage were packed into the backseat and trunk. If there had been another way to make the trip, Mila would have been all for it. Time was of the essence. But there wasn’t a single working vehicle left in the entire town of Clarkson, and they had to deal with what was on their plate.
Traveling by foot or bicycle was the only way most people got around, and for many of Clarkson’s finest, it was the farthest they had ventured outside of town since the EMP strike. Arthur’s initial attack had left them scarred and afraid to explore.
As hopeful as their mission seemed, Mila knew that a much more difficult and violent road was ahead. She anticipated and dreaded the assault at the same time. No matter what the end result, people on both sides would die, but she tried to remind herself what it was all about. Freeing Rob was crucial, but they also had the opportunity to reclaim their town and drive the cancer of Arthur and his gang out for good.
During the trip, the sheriff talked a lot about his history in law enforcement, his family, and the sudden and tragic passing of his sick wife, months before the EMP strike. With her gone, he was completely focused on the people of Clarkson.
“None of them care to hear me blab on about myself,” he said, indicating the group following behind. “I imagine they’re sick of hearing me talk. But it’s nice to meet new people.”
“Especially people who aren’t trying to kill or rob you,” Mila added.
“You got that right,” the sheriff said.
Mila and Carlos gave some background on themselves. Who they were and what they did. Carlos worked for the post office. Mila was a nurse. The sheriff seemed impressed on both regards.
“Good thing I can shoot,” Carlos said. “Not much use for post office employees after the apocalypse.”
“Nonsense,” the sheriff said. “Correspondence is more important than ever. You get your hands on a horse, you’ll be just like Kevin Costner in that one movie.”
“Where can we get some?” Mila said, taking his suggestion at face value.
“There are a few ranches around Clarkson,” the sheriff said. He then hung his head and sighed. “But Arthur’s gang slaughtered a lot of livestock. The horses too.”
“That’s terrible…” Mila said, covering her mouth.
The mention of Arthur aroused Carlos’s anger all over again. “When do we attack?” he asked. “I mean, what’s our strategy?”
“We go into town early. Take ’em by surprise,” the sheriff said.
“I’m certain Arthur expects us back,” Mila said. “But he may not have counted on it being this soon.”
“I’m gonna put a bullet right between his eyes,” Carlos said.
The sheriff turned his head. “I reckon a lot of people feel the same way.”
They came upon the muddy dirt road leading up the mountain and to the camp. Visibility up the mountain was
severely limited—more so than the road there, as the headlights no longer worked. None of their cars had working bulbs, even though almost everything else ran okay. Carlos grabbed some ChemLights from his backpack and offered to lead the way.
“Sure thing,” the sheriff said.
Mila moved over as Carlos got out. He announced to the large group of weary travelers that they were close, and several of them sighed, saying “At last.”
“I can’t thank you enough for this,” Mila reiterated to the sheriff.
He nodded in acknowledgement. “You get us into town, past those damn walls you say he’s built up, and we’ll take it from there.”
“I can fight,” Mila said. “This is my battle too.”
Steering through the bumpy terrain, he looked at her, impressed. “Well, aren’t you the original badass.”
Mila laughed then felt more focused than ever. She had tossed her doubts aside and wanted only to get Rob, reclaim their town, and restore peace and well-being to herself and those hundreds of others. Was that too much to ask?
The Clarkson fighters arrived at the camp after an exhausting slosh up the soggy dirt road that led to their temporary sanctuary. Mila had lost track of the time, but judging from the look of the camp, it was late. No one was outside. All the cabins had their thick curtains drawn. There was no guard on site or in the tower—a clear sign of the fracture in their normally cohesive group.
“So this is where y’all been holding up, huh?” the sheriff said.
“That’s right,” Mila said. She wondered if anyone had heard the car coming, but nobody came outside.
He slowed the car to a halt near a platform and benches, looking around and admiring what he could see in the darkness. Mila got out of the car as Carlos headed immediately to his cabin. She needed to get everyone on the same page as quickly as possible. Brad, Ashlee, Peter and Krystal, Elliott and Reba—she knew that they would most likely opt out. Most of them wanted to leave the camp altogether. If there was any chance she could convince them to stay and fight, she would. Her morale had lifted greatly in recruiting the sheriff and his people to their cause. She hoped her friends would feel the same way.
Carlos walked out of his cabin with Mayra, who looked as if she had just been woken. They went right to Peter’s cabin, and Carlos could be heard knocking on the door. A feeling of panic hit Mila as the deal she had made with Peter concerning the Buick resurfaced. It was brave of Carlos to handle it first thing. There were other cars. There might even be hope to recover their own. Already, the others were settling in.
The sheriff stepped out of his Buick and went over to his people, who were looking for dry ground to unpack their sleeping bags. “Great job so far,” he said.
Mila glanced over to her cabin. “I can fit a bunch you in my place. As many as possible.” She thought of Josh and Kelly, not wanting to wake them. But she knew she had to at least see them.
“What are you talking about?” Peter’s voice could be heard yelling in the distance.
Great, she thought. It’s starting already.
Carlos had wasted no time telling Peter about the deal, wanting to get it over with. Now Peter was huffing over, approaching Mila.
“What does he mean, you bargained my car away?” Peter asked. He had tossed a jacket over his striped pajamas. The commotion had brought Brad and Ashlee out of their cabin. Peter stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed the large, mingling group behind Mila.
“Whoa,” he said. “What’s this? Who are these people?”
“Please, relax,” Mila said, fanning her hand. “I’ll explain everything in a minute.”
Carlos came toward them, with Brad and Ashlee trying to keep up with Carlos’s long strides.
“What is this?” Brad asked. “Who are all these people?”
“Looks like you brought the whole town back with you,” Ashlee said, looking around in wonderment as the Clarkson crew unpacked.
“They’re from Clarkson, and they’re here to help,” Carlos said.
“Help with what?” Ashlee asked.
“Help us take back Nyack,” Mila said. “We’re invading the town tomorrow and ending this once and for all.”
Civil War
It was a surprisingly bright morning in downtown Nyack. Light frost was on the ground, and smoke trails from small fires everywhere drifted throughout the town like ghosts. A ceremony was in the works above the steps of Town Hall. Many people were already up and moving, preparing for the day’s events. A newly constructed wooden stage was being carried by several men and placed at the top of the stairs. Rows of chairs had been placed at the bottom of the steps, empty for the time being. It was an important day, for Arthur intended to solidify his questioned leadership of the town and their defeat of the outsiders.
By celebrating their survival against the odds, he hoped to bring the town together, united against further attacks from the outside world. A world that he was convinced was out to get them.
Arthur watched the ceremony setup from the second-story window of his office. He had taken a liking to his tan fatigues and beret, but that morning he was wearing a suit and tie.
For Arthur, today was a dream come true. Regardless of the circumstances surrounding it, he was finally mayor. No one could take that away from him.
“How do I look, Larry?” he asked while straightening his tie.
“Just fine. Remind me why we’re doing this again?” Larry asked.
Jerome and Dwayne were in the room as well, sitting across from Arthur’s desk, looking bored.
Not paying attention, Jerome said, “Need to find me a good woman. Sick of this shit.”
“You and me both,” Dwayne agreed.
Arthur turned from the window and looked at his men, disappointed. “Where’s your spirit?” he asked. “Today is an important day for Tartarus. We’re going to declare our own independence and sovereignty. We’re going to celebrate our recent victory. And most important of all, we’re going to announce expansion into neighboring counties. You gentlemen play your cards right, and you could be mayors of your own towns someday.”
“These people just want a way to stay warm,” Larry said.
“And they want food,” Dwayne added.
“I’ve got both avenues covered,” Arthur said, leaning on the back of his leather office chair. “I’ve got a shop crew examining those cars to figure out why they still work. There has to be something in their design, similar to our two cargo trucks. That could be the key in getting the heat back on in this town too.”
“I’ll save them the trouble,” Dwayne said, tilting his head back and yawning. “They’re old.”
“I understand that, Dwayne,” Arthur said. “But we need the specifics. We can learn and rebuild. Make this town functional again.”
“And the food?” Larry asked.
“Everyone who attends the ceremony will be given a healthy food ration from our private stock. That should keep them happy for the day.”
“But everyone is required to attend,” Larry added.
“Yes,” Arthur said, fastening his cufflinks. “So make sure that happens.”
Someone knocked at the door. Arthur looked up and signaled to Larry. “See who it is, please.”
Larry walked across the carpet and opened the door a crack. Reverend Phelps peeked in.
“What do you want?” Larry asked.
“Hello. I came to see the mayor,” Phelps said.
Larry opened the door fully to see a line of people outside the office, all the way down the hall.
“You’ve got visitors,” he called to Arthur.
Arthur waved Phelps in and told Larry to close the door. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “This early, and I’ve already got a line outside. The trials of being a mayor!”
Townspeople often gathered outside his office first thing in the morning for personal requests, complaints, food, supplies, and a litany of other requests. His newly established “open-door policy” was starting to h
ave its consequences.
“How can I help you, Pastor?” Arthur asked as his men eyed Phelps suspiciously.
“Good morning, Mr. Mayor. I just wanted to let you know that the guards transported Mr. Parker to the building.”
“Perfect,” Arthur said while patting his hair and studying his reflection in the window.
“Would you like them sent in? Perhaps we can all have a one-on-one,” Phelps said.
“Certainly. But first, I want to make sure that we’re clear on what you’re saying this morning. I want everything to go perfectly.”
“Yes. I’ve got it all up here,” Phelps said, pointing to his head.
Arthur turned around. Various conversations could be heard coming from the hall. He told Phelps, “You will speak of your vision of a true leader. And I think you know the rest.”
“Of course, Mr. Mayor.”
Arthur approached the pastor and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Do this, and I’ll hold up my end of the bargain. Just remember,” he said, pointing. “Upon their release, your people aren’t to speak of this town to anyone. If they betray my trust, they will suffer the consequences.”
Phelps nodded with enthusiasm. “They understand that.”
“And of course, if they choose to live here, that’s fine by me as well. I did, after all, relocate them from their cells to a nice town home.”
“And they’re deeply grateful” Phelps said.
Arthur slapped him on the back. “Just tell me what they decide at the end of the day. Go ahead send Mr. Parker to me.”
“Right away, Mr. Mayor,” Phelps said, turning to the door. As he opened it, outside conversation spilled into the room. Once shut, the room went quiet again.
“You’re not really going to let them leave, are you?” Larry asked.
Arthur laughed. “Of course not. He’ll understand later. I just need him on point right now.”
A knock came at the door again. Larry went to open it and saw a burly, gray-bearded guard standing there with Rob, who was zip-tied at the wrists.
