by T. K. Malone
“Nonsense,” said Irving. “Man always gravitates to self-destruction, it’s in his genes. What we did was save mankind from itself. Now all we have to do is make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“By doing what, exactly?”
“By ruling the peace, of course,” said Irving, to which Walter nodded.
“And how do you propose to do that?” Zac asked, a quick glance at Laura making him wonder why she’d remained so quiet.
“Zac, Zac, Zac,” said Irving. “We’ve told you all this as a courtesy for your recent efforts, for your valiant support of our cause. How do we rule the peace? Please, the same way man has ruled since time began.” He checked himself and then held up a finger and wagged it. “Just because you’re afforded our time doesn’t mean you’re a trusted member of our elite group.” Silence fell between them for a few moments, until Irving drew in a short breath. “Would you like a drink? Food is being prepared for you and your party. We could then have a little drink together, perhaps.”
Zac glanced at Laura. “Laura?”
“As long as they leave the bottle,” she said.
“Take after your mother, do you, eh?” Walter tried to joke.
Zac flinched at the look Laura shot her father, but Irving had been tapping away on a pad attached to his wheelchair, and before the old man had looked up, a knock came at the cabin door. “Enter,” Irving barked, and in came a man carrying a tray laden with a bottle of whiskey and four glasses. He poured their drinks and swiftly backed out of the room, leaving the bottle on the table. Clearly military, Zac thought.
“My valiant effort to your cause?” Zac inquired.
“Indeed, certain items that were needed. For instance: technological products which could only be developed in Black City, ingredients impossible to find out here. Though I have to say, the cigarettes in this part of the forest are absolutely divine; Saggers, I believe they’re called.” Walter eyed Zac’s own pack, which he pushed across the table toward him.
The man shifted in his wheelchair. “Let me give you a scenario, Zac. Whatever you think of the signed accord, far from making war acceptable, it risked the un-riskable. What was at stake was the majority of those who’d voted them into power in the first place, certainly in the case of The Free World. You see, Zac, the wider populous just wasn’t trusted anymore. Take Oster Prime, for instance, I doubt he’d have attracted a rural mandate, though in the end the vote was a bit gray, I’ll admit that. No, the accord should never have been broken, but then what shouldn’t often is, and that was the very future we’d planned for.”
Zac took a sip of his scotch. “You planned for the apocalypse?”
Irving looked surprised. “No, I planned for the end of the stalemate—the breaking of the impasse—as Josiah likes to call it. I planned for a game of chess where the king and queen start throwing their pawns at the other side, not moving their knights elegantly around the board, a board I planned to a clear.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point? I’ve already told you that you aren’t privy to my point. My proposal is this, though: given all that’s happened, what do you want to happen next? How would you like the world to proceed?” Irving left his question hanging as he drank down his drink and then patted his son on his arm. Walter stood up and made to wheel his father out, but then hesitated.
“I’d suggest,” he said, “that you discuss all this with your friends, then come to conclusions—you too, Laura. Then we can talk over breakfast, maybe, and see if we can’t come to some agreement as to how we go forward, together or apart.”
“So, if we don’t, we can leave?”
He shrugged. “You can. Yes, let’s say that,” and with that he wheeled Irving from the room, the door clicking ominously shut behind them.
Zac drummed his fingers on the table. “Not the most family oriented, are they? Seems your fate’s linked to ours, Laura.”
“Linked? Possibly, though their judgment of me may be harsher for my defying them.”
“Defying?”
Laura smiled, yet her eyes betrayed her reticence. It was as though part of her appeared to rue a path she’d long ago taken. She reached out and grasped his hand.
“While they tolerated it when my mother was alive, they weren’t impressed when I elected to stay in Christmas after she’d passed on. You have to remember their roots had been severed, ripped out of the ground and erased when England was lost. Family, future, it was all precious to them, all they had. They took it to heart when I stayed away—and they haven’t forgiven me.”
“So, they throw their lot in with a bunch of smugglers and bikers? I kind of doubt that.”
“No, they threw their lot in with their vision of the future. That’s all that’s important to them now. I get the distinct feeling they care little for anyone who doesn’t share it.”
“But they haven’t explained what their vision is.”
She reached for the bottle of whiskey. “No, no they wouldn’t. You see, they can pick and choose now. Once upon a time governments did their bidding, signed accords they’d devised, but those states had merely bent to the wind to gain their favor. It would appear they’ve had their fill of insincerity. That, I imagine, is why they have their little army of mercs around them. And if I know my grandfather and father, that won’t be the only army they have an affiliation with.”
But Zac found the idea fanciful. That these two men could have had governments doing their bidding seemed highly implausible, that two chemists from a defunct country had had a hand in the fate of the world. Although, he had to admit to himself the current situation did seem to lend the idea a great deal of plausibility, in particular this invisible network of cabins protected by its own army, something which went a long way to giving credence to their boasts. Was it enough, though? Now everything had gone, what influence could this place still have, cut off as it was?
Could their way be the better one, though, he then had to consider, theirs better than the old ways, better these two strange men than his own father and Nathan Grimes, than maybe even the preppers or possibly Josiah Charm. With Switch’s death still so raw, it was no easy task to forget the last act played and to look to the finale to come. But somehow he knew, for the sake of Laura, Noodle, Billy Flynn and possibly even Connor, that was what he had to do, and he was also well aware he’d omitted one name from his list—Loser’s.
“Johnny,” he muttered, and laughed.
“Johnny?” Laura said.
“Loser’s name. Walter, your dad, called him Johnny.”
“Yes, he did, didn’t he?”
“Why do you say it like that?”
Laura appeared to be deep in thought. “The boy! I remember him now. I never met him, but I do remember seeing him, if only a few times, in and around the forest. I don’t ever remember seeing him close to the village, though, nor in it, not as far as I recall, but I do remember seeing an older boy and I guess it must have been him.”
“When you were living here?”
“Yes, before I left, about fifteen or so years ago. It was while my mother was still working here. It would be about right. I’m guessing Loser’s in his mid-thirties.”
“About that.”
“Then yes, it fits. Just used to run around the woods, throw stones into the lake, stuff like that. You’ll have to ask him about it; I was never allowed to meet him.”
“Allowed?”
“Thinking back on it, it was as though I was always in our cabin or the labs when he was around, like it was prearranged somehow.” She shrugged. “I might just be imagining it all, of course.”
Zac looked absently around the room, taking nothing in, trying to make a connection where he knew there might only be coincidence? Another one, he thought. Four valleys and a dead city, but before, it had been a city with four valleys leading from it, and so not entirely implausible people would meet and form acquaintances. This, however, was turning into something of a web, one littered with people and place
s, all linked somehow. Except this wasn’t a typical spider’s web, for it had more than one lurking creature, and every time a thread was triggered, a different monstrous spider appeared.
Billy, Loser and Noodle finally pulled him from his musings when they all walked into the cabin. They looked fairly bemused, as if they’d been released without explanation.
“Everything all right, Zac?” Billy asked, but Zac didn’t answer straight away, only stood up and hugged his friend close to him.
“Is everyone okay?” he finally asked them over Billy’s shoulder.
They all nodded, even Noodle appearing lost for words.
“So,” Zac told them, “if you think you’re confused now, wait until I tell you what I’ve just learned.” He relayed what he’d been told. At the end, he sat back down and took a swig of his whiskey.
Loser coughed. “Before you get too comfortable, you might want to hear my own little story.”
“Highly doubtful,” Noodle said, taking one of the chairs.
Shooting him a look, Loser muttered a few unintelligible curses, then went behind Noodle and put his gnarled hands on the man’s shoulders. “You think you’re so bloody funny, don’t you? Well, you’re not. And no, I had to leave here because I wasn’t wanted. I was a safeguard, nothing more.”
“A safeguard?” Zac said.
“Yeah, my old man was fuming the day he found out—flogged me to the army that very same day.”
“Found out what?”
“That they weren’t going to use me for whatever it was they wanted me for. Did his nuts, apparently. Threatened to bust the cabins up, all of that. That got us thrown out, escorted out of the valley—though he did get a bundle of money, which he then drank his way through, selling me off while pissed out of his mind. Never knew what happened to him after that.”
Zac sat up straight, realizing Loser was telling him something without telling him anything.
“What? What were you a safeguard for?”
“I dunno—never did find out. All I know is: they found someone new, someone younger. Now, what was it that bastard of a father said to me?” He scratched at his chin. “Something along the lines of ‘Too bloody late for us, and it’s all your fault; you’re too old now.’ You know, he hated me—my dad.”
“So, they found someone else?” Noodle said. “Someone better—”
“Noodle,” growled Zac. “Leave it.”
“Why? What’s up?”
Zac stared at Noodle, but then glanced at Loser in passing as his gaze finally fell on Billy Flynn.
“Connor?” said Billy.
And Zac nodded, “Connor.”
14
Zac’s Story
Strike time: plus 7 days
Location: The Meyers’ Retreat
Zac leapt to his feet. Billy was already on his own and marching for the front door. Following him, Zac heard Laura shout his name, but he ignored her as he slipped out behind Billy.
Out on the stoop, they both hesitated. Before them, the forest framed two mercs who’d leveled their machine guns at them.
Billy banged the wooden railing around the stoop. “No way forward,” he said through gritted teeth.
“No way back,” Zac muttered, transfixed by the guards. “Take a breath.”
“What?”
“Take a deep breath and let’s see if those gun barrels go up.”
“Whatever you say, Zac,” and they both made as though they were just taking in the air.
“So, let’s just think about this,” Zac said, softly, letting his wave of adrenaline subside. “You reckon Connor was Loser’s replacement?”
Billy let out a long breath. “It sure looks like it.”
“Them guns aren’t lowering.”
“Nope.”
“What are you thinking now?”
“That our choices dictate our fate.”
“Yep.”
“Fucking English.”
Then Laura was at the doorway, her hands on her hips. “What now? What crazy conclusions have you jumped to?”
“It’s Connor, I know it is,” Zac growled, going back into the cabin.
“And just what do you think they’ve done to Connor?” Laura pleaded.
“Whatever they’ve…” but then Zac only looked at her, poker-faced. “Only they’d know that, now, wouldn’t they?”
“Know what, Zac? What are you hiding from me?”
“Me? Hiding?” and he felt his face flush with anger. “I’m not bloody hiding anything. You heard Loser, and the timeline—it all fits. Fifteen years ago, my father was arrested and we—me and my family—first came under Charm’s beady eye. Fifteen years ago, we moved into Black City, and I’ll bet that was about the time Loser got dumped. Five years later, Connor has his accident, and we start shipping up here.”
Laura grabbed his wrists, tugging at them. “Don’t you see? That’s just coincidence. You can’t presume it’s all connected, not just because of something Loser overheard; you just can’t.”
“If I’m wrong, they won’t mind telling me why Loser was too old, and what he was too old for.”
“Zac, it could be any number of things—a handyman, a cook, a driver, a trainee bloody chemist, who knows? They could have been looking for anything.”
“Except,” Loser said. “Except you know that can’t be right.”
Zac looked past Laura and at him; she turned to follow his gaze.
Loser took a couple of steps toward them. “It can’t be a handyman, because age makes no odds, nor a driver—you can’t be too old for that at fifteen; too young, maybe. Nope, it has something to do with age, with a window, and whatever they wanted for the child, and whatever it was, they cherished it. All those five years I lived here with my father, we were looked after, that I can confirm.”
“Looked after?”
“Money, credits, food, visits to Morton and Aldertown. Most anything we wanted. Trouble was, my dad got used to the money. The thought of it drying up threw him into a rage which surpassed all his rages. He got drunk in Morton and told me how bloody useless I was. That’s why he sold me on.”
Zac felt his anger wane a little, giving way to reason. He looked at Billy Flynn, and the big man nodded. Zac finally sat down, avoiding a conflict he most certainly couldn’t win.
“We need to think this one out, Zac Boy,” said Billy. “Won’t do Connor any good if we die here.” He glanced at the window, and Zac understood his meaning, understood a powerful force lurked out there. He held his head in his hands for a moment, before running his fingers through his hair as he then looked up at Loser. Knowing Billy’s words to have been true didn’t make them any easier.
“What else, Loser?”
“Me?” he said. “Not much. That’s it, really.”
“No idea why you were picked in the first place?”
“Not a clue.”
Noodle thumped the table. “Goddammit, Loser, you know it was your winning personality.” He poured a scotch into Irving’s old glass. “This one’s free,” he said, raising it to his mouth. He took a swig and smacked his lips. “Damn, but that’s good stuff. Now, first things first, Zac: keep calm—getting all heated up ain’t going to help anyone. Way I see it, we’re captives, or even emissaries, something like that, and we’re in hostile territory.” He pushed his chair back and put his feet up on the table. “Now, if this were another gang’s territory—”
“We’d trash it,” Billy said, his tone ominous.
“Be that as it may,” Noodle said, nodding. “Be that as it may, big man, but we’re currently surrounded by specials, a fair-sized cohort, and on our own, too. Plus, we’ve no guns left, seeing as Loser just abandoned the truck and let it blow up.” Loser tensed, but Noodle waved him down. “So, before you two start thinking of ways to get us all killed, I suggest you weigh up the pros and the cons.”
“Go on,” said Zac.
“Pro:” barked Noodle, “we’re obviously in the hands of some badass dudes with some bad
ass technology. Pro: they have an army, small, but an army anyway. Pro: they appear to know what happened to Connor—”
“We assume,” Laura interrupted.
Noodle wrinkled his nose. “Meh, they know. My gut tells me they know. So, that leads us to the conclusion they’re in cahoots with Charm.” He raised his finger in the air, a hint of intrigue glistening in his eye and his lips curling with a touch of humor. “So, we’re clearly in league with Charm.”
Zac sat up and made to speak, but Noodle held up his hand. “Hold on, hold on, I’m coming to Switch. We’re in league with Charm, and Charm is in deep with… What were their names?”
“Irving and Walter,” Laura supplied.
“The two old boys,” Noodle said with a smile and another sip of his whiskey. “And… And I don’t mean to keep pressing this but it is fairly important, they have an army of killers outside. Personally, I’m all in favor of a fight where we blast our way out, heroes to a man, and take out a much better prepared and manned army with hardly any casualties, but I’m painfully aware that never happens in real life, and we’d all die. So, if it comes to choosing sides, I’m all in with this mob.”
“Switch?” Zac mentioned again. Love Noodle as he did, he wasn’t sure he cared for the way the man had just glossed over Switch’s death. “Don’t you care about him? About what they did to Switch?”
“I was there, Zac,” and Noodle’s voice had become stern. “I was there, and I saw what happened. He bolted, ran, and the first chance of dying, he took it. I saw that, sure as hell I did. I also saw that Charm condemned one of us to die. Tell me, Zac, why did we go into that nuclear wasteland in the first place?”
“To take the casket there,” Zac whispered, knowing full well where this line of thought was leading.
“Why, Zac?”
When Zac at last looked Noodle in the eye, he saw no victory there, no humor, only dark pupils masking his friend’s true feelings. He began to wonder if he’d lost his edge by living in the city all that time. Noodle had spoken the truth, Switch had run to his death, and it was also true Charm had forced them into a position where one of them would die. What Noodle was trying to tell him, he concluded, was “So what?” So what, because at this particular time it didn’t matter; at this particular time, vengeance could wait.
