by T. K. Malone
“That one?” Zac said, pointing.
“Yep.”
“So, what’s ’is name?”
“Saggers.”
Zac let out a long whistle. “Grimes is gonna shit—”
“Sure is.” Noodle smiled. “We just rescued us a gold mine.”
“Well, time for a chat.” Zac ambled over to the man.
Saggers was sitting in a circle of others, a woman and the child Zac had kept seeing by his side. The kid was asleep, his head in the woman’s lap.
“Cute kid you got there,” Zac said by way of introduction.
Saggers looked him up and down. “Thanks.”
“You Ethan Saggers? The Saggers I’ve been hearing a lot about?”
“Depends what you’ve been hearing. Listen, and I fully appreciate you got the guns ‘n all, but are we free or not? Or have we just been captured again?”
Zac crouched down. “You can walk now if you want.”
Saggers shifted uneasily. He glanced at the boy, then straight back at Zac. “I sense an or.”
“Or… Or we can drop you in Aldertown.”
“Heard the place was flattened.”
“At least you know the land.”
“You preppers? You don’t look like preppers. Mind you, you and him and the big man, you don’t move like military, either.”
“You guessed right, Ethan Saggers; we’re just tangled up in some shit at the moment.”
“But you’re headed toward the prepper compound—if yer going past Aldertown, that is.”
“It’s Aldertown or here,” Zac told him. “But when my shit’s over—if we’re both still alive—I’ve got a proposal for you; for your family.”
“Oh, he’s—”
“What Ethan’s trying to say,” the woman beside him said, “is that we’re open to options, and I don’t believe he’s thanked you for rescuing us, if that’s indeed what it is.”
“I can’t promise anything…”
Saggers smiled. “Only a liar or a fool would.”
Zac inclined his head. “True. Difficult times. So, I won’t promise you anything. What I will do, though, is let you know I want a life worth living, once the dust settles, and I’m looking for people to live it with.”
Saggers laughed. “And let me guess: you like a smoke.”
Noodle sniggered. “I believe he has you there, boss.”
Zac glanced behind. “I believe he has,” but then he held Saggers’ gaze in his own. “So, do we have a deal? Can we say if you survive the next few days then we’ll talk?”
“You’re dropping me in Aldertown and I haven’t got a truck, not even a bike or a donkey. Way I see it, whatever happens, I ain’t gonna be far away. Tell you what, when you do drop us off, I might just be able to find a token of my appreciation—fer the rescue and all that.”
“Can’t ask for much more than that,” Zac said and got to his feet. “Say, do you know how famous you are?”
“Me? Now, that’s a worry. Don’t imagine it’s a great time to be in demand…” but then Saggers narrowed his eyes at Zac. “You got a name?”
“Never did say, did I? Well, if you’re coming, better get back in the truck; next stop Aldertown,” and as Zac walked away, he called back, “Name’s Zac, Ethan. Just call me Zac.”
19
Zac’s Story
Strike time: plus 9 days
Location: Road to Morton
Zac sat up front with Loser and Laura. Renshaw’s men were looking out for their rear. Though the back of the truck was crammed, Loser was throwing it around the mountain trail, appearing happy he wasn’t carrying a load of guns and fuel. At least they were making good time out of the valley and away from Banks’ forces.
“Sooner we get outta here the better,” Zac muttered. “You think Banks’ll come after us?”
“Tactically,” Loser said, “he shouldn’t.”
Just as Zac wondered if that was it, Loser puffed himself up and lit a smoke. “Technically, it’s the wrong move. If I were in command, I’d have swept the place for evidence of dug-in hostiles. As we’ve all buggered off, that search would have come up empty, so I’d have fortified, shrunk the perimeter and carried on. ‘Course, that’s just me.”
“Makes sense,” Laura said, absently. “That man you were talking to, what was his name?”
“Saggers.”
“The one who makes the smokes?”
“Yeah, that’s him. Why?”
“It’s just…” Laura ran her hand through her hair, twirling its tips through her fingers, as though it helped her think. “I reckon he knew you from your name. I was a little too far away, but when you said you were called Zac, he glanced at the boy, then the woman, and then just…”
“Just what?”
“Covered it up. Looked around.”
“You sure?”
“Been playing it over and over in my mind. Sure as I can be.”
“How would he know me? Nah, just must have been nervous—probably terrified. Shit, we’ve all been through a lot recently.”
Loser slowed the truck to a halt, then backed up a bit. “Think we’re about to go through a bit more,” and he hissed as he grabbed his rifle. “I suggest we take a look down into the valley’s lower reaches, and sharpish.”
“What?” Zac said, grabbing his own machine gun.
“That last break in the trees gave sight of at least five glints of reflected sunlight. I’ll bet you a credit to a corndog it’s a convoy.” Loser jumped down from the cab. Zac got out, too, and rounded the truck, calling out to Renshaw, then the three of them walked back up the road toward the gap in the trees. As they neared, Loser put his hand up.
“Hear that?” he said.
Zac could hear nothing at first, but then a low rumble. They were soon off the road and into the trees, scrambling down the slope until they’d found a rocky ledge. All lined up on their bellies at its edge, they looked down into the valley below. The road from the mouth of the valley up to Banks’ forces positioned around The Hell’s Gates was plain to see, its length now crammed with troop carriers, armored vehicles and assorted artillery.
“Now, that’s what I call luck, and they’ll still call me Loser.”
Zac looked down, seeing the gold and black flags of The Free World fluttering from each and every vehicle. “Oster Prime’s army,” he said softly.
“A very small part of it,” Renshaw noted. “Though it depends on when that snake ends. Where the fuck did they hide that lot to avoid the EMP?”
“That’s actually mostly bollocks,” said Loser.
“What is?”
“One thing I know about guns and motors: most don’t get fried by an EMP, at least, it don’t kill ‘em. Might send the dash a little crazy, but that’s about it. So, I guess they just kept ‘em outta harm’s way. And look, they’ve got the old-fashioned type of artillery—not so much of the computerized shit. Maybe the blast fried the complicated stuff.”
Zac shrugged. He knew when he was beaten. “Two things,” he said.
“What?”
“Guns and motors, that’s two things, Loser.”
Renshaw spat a laugh. “You’re an asshole, Zac.”
“You better believe it. Now, where the fuck did that Free World army come from?”
“More to the point, why? They’ve already got victory over the compound in their grasp.”
“Well,” Loser said, “we’d best get off this road and outta sight while they pass, then outta this valley for good, cos with that amount of reinforcement, Banks will certainly come looking for us now.”
Loser had smeared mud all over the truck’s windscreen and windows, to avoid any giveaway reflections, leaving a small porthole to peer through. Zac and Billy walked in front, Renshaw’s men well ahead, Noodle covering the rear. The convoy had taken two hours to pass, its sheer size knocking the wind out of them. When they’d elected to uncover the camouflaged truck and move on, they’d remained fearful of bumping into a straggling rearguard unit in their ha
ste to get away.
Loser coasted down the hill, not chancing the noise of the engine giving them away. When it wasn’t downhill, the freed captives would hop out of the back and push, soon jumping back in once the truck got going downhill again. The air of the valley had been left with a heaviness, as though the threat of the passing army still hung there, somehow more oppressive the closer they got to its mouth.
“That’s one mighty big army we’re up against,” Billy muttered.
Zac scoffed. “Noodle just may have picked the wrong side.”
“That he might. That he might indeed have,” Billy agreed. “When it comes down to it, y’know, I don’t think I’d personally be able to kill Connor, so you’ve no chance, Zac.”
“Nope.”
“And so, I wonder why Meyers was so adamant you had to do it.”
Zac looked at Billy. “Wonder?”
“Well,” Billy said, his gun resting on his shoulder, every inch of him relaxed in contrast to Zac’s own posture. “Surely it would make more sense for Renshaw to do it, or one of his men or Loser. Hell, even Noodle—after all, he doesn’t even know him? But you? What can you do close up that Loser couldn’t do from a few hundred yards away?”
Thinking about it, Billy’s words had only confirmed the conclusion Zac was already coming to. Neither of the Meyers men wanted their creation destroyed, unless it really was out of control. Neither wanted their years of work to be for nothing. They both knew Zac was the only one qualified to judge, to judge whether Sable should live or die, and by default, whether Connor should.
“I can look into his eyes,” Zac finally said.
Billy checked his pace. “But can you make the right decision?”
“That, Billy, is up for debate. But for now, I’m thankful to Meyers—each of them.”
“Why?”
“Because they’ve given me the choice. Like you said, they could have just executed him from afar.”
Zac put his hand up, hearing the whine of the truck’s brakes behind him. He went around to the cab. “How much farther?”
Loser shrugged. “I reckon we’re about a twenty-minute dash from the freeway, half hour to Morton. What you thinkin’?”
Zac drummed his fingers on the truck’s sill. “I’m thinking we’ve made it this close but the trees won’t cover us forever. We gotta make a dash for it sooner or later.”
“Reckon you’re right.”
“Take five. I’ll go on a bit, link up with Renshaw, see what he thinks.”
“Okay that lot getting out?” Loser pointed over his shoulder.
“Sure, give ‘em a break. But they’re to keep close, mind.”
“Will do, boss.”
Looking across Loser at Laura, Zac held her gaze for a moment. “You wanna stretch your legs?”
Laura got out of the truck as Billy walked on ahead.
“He’s giving us some space,” Laura pointed out. “So, while we’re alone, I’ve got something to say. You don’t need to mollycoddle me, Zac. I can fire a gun, walk on ahead, take my chances.”
“I know you can. It’s just…”
“Yeah, I know, it’s just you trust your boys but you don’t trust me.”
Zac grabbed her arm, pulling her closer. “That’s part of it, I can’t deny. I know them, yeah, but more to the point, I don’t really know you.”
She pushed away and shrugged. “So, shoot; ask me a question. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“Why didn’t you mention them before, at Christmas, at The Angel Bay? Why didn’t you happen to mention your father owned Black City?”
“Out on the stoop, why didn’t you mention yours killed young women and strung them up on drones?” She stopped and lit a smoke, but then carried on. “I didn’t mention them because, apocalypse or no, I was just getting to know a man who’d stumbled onto a bar’s stoop I happened to be at. That okay for you, Zac?”
Her words bit hard, but the truth behind them hurt more. The truth was: he’d been happy when she was just the mysterious Laura Meyers, the fun Laura, now though, since he’d found out about her father and grandfather, he was having second thoughts.
“But why were you even on that stoop?”
She took a long drag. “Jesus, Zac, you’re fucked up. I love a bar but sometimes can’t stand the company—like now.” She picked up her pace and went ahead. Zac watched her go, watched her catch up with Billy Flynn, with whom she seemed to fall into an easy conversation.
Was it that simple? he wondered. Just a coincidence? He stared past the two of them, along the road, and wondered if Teah was alive. His mind had kept returning to her, as though the current talk demanded it. Deep down, he knew why. He knew the rage she would feel, which everyone around her would feel. He knew she’d move heaven and earth to save Connor, and yet he, Zac, Connor’s own brother, was considering the other option, a wholly other outcome. Did he really need her now more than ever? In his heart, Zac knew the answer to that question.
“Family,” he muttered, and unslung his gun. “What the fuck was I thinking?”
Breaking into a run, he soon passed Billy and Laura. “Zac!” Billy shouted, reaching out to him, but Zac just shoved him off. “Going to find Renshaw,” was all he said.
Renshaw was a good half mile up the road, standing beside it as though waiting for Zac.
Zac slowed.
“Could you make any more noise? You might just as well have brought the truck.” Zac didn’t reply, just stood there, breathing hard. “Come on,” Renshaw said. “You might want to see this.”
He followed the army man into the woods, trying to match his carefully planted feet, his noiseless walk, but the steep slope kept tripping him up, and Zac soon felt like a liability. Renshaw’s prophesy they would get his soldiers killed rose fresh in Zac’s mind. After about thirty yards, Renshaw took a sharp turn across the slope and they came across one of his men. He was lying flat at the edge of a cliff face, and they both crouched down beside him, looking down the road below.
“How many?” Renshaw whispered.
“About a dozen. They aren’t up for it.”
“Up for what?” Zac asked.
The soldier grunted. “Being left behind this close to camp. They’re digging in, though.”
“We gotta take ‘em out?”
“What do you think?”
“What are we waiting for?”
Renshaw patted Zac on the back. “Patience; you need to have patience. Information is what we’re after. Once we have that, one by one, they’ll be picked off. Last thing we need is one of them radioing ahead to the army.”
They came away from the cliff edge, quietly down its side and nearer the men below, finally settling down under cover and close enough to hear. Snippets of conversations drifted to their ears, griping mostly, as Renshaw’s soldier had surmised. The Free World soldiers were making camp and posting lookouts, clearly here to make sure nothing untoward came up the valley behind the army. They appeared jittery, though, maybe having heard of the earlier attack, but they also appeared confident, too. Numbers did that to you, Zac thought, and this army had the numbers. Just as Zac was settling in, there was a sharp shout, dying almost immediately. Zac wondered if it had been stifled by someone.
Renshaw and his man shot to their feet, scrambling out of their cover, Zac jumped up, following them. Another of Renshaw’s men appeared a few dozen yards ahead, a Free World soldier limp in his arms. Zac hurtled down the slope behind the other two toward him, but then they separated, no doubt with their own target in sight. Shots rang out, though, any stealth advantage they may have had now ruined.
But Zac carried on, crashing through the undergrowth, aiming straight into the enemy’s camp, clicking the safety off on his gun before leveling it at two soldiers who’d spun around to face him. Hesitating at which one to choose, he squeezed off a quick burst of fire, one of the soldiers flying backward. Then his pace became checked by bullet after bullet slamming into his body, and he, too, toppled backward, la
nding flat on his back, cracking his head on the road. But then someone barked his name and a figure hurdled him. He rolled to his knees, his chest exploding in pain, and took a deep breath, trusting to his armor as he pushed himself to his feet once more.
Renshaw was already on top of the man who’d shot at him, his knife arcing down. Zac faced the one he’d shot and who was now scrambling toward what looked like a radiophone. Having dropped his gun somewhere, Zac just lunged at the man, grabbing him by his tunic and pulling him away. He fell on him, breathing heavily, and brought his fists down against the man’s face, the pain in his ribs and stomach lost to the adrenalin now coursing through him. In a fury at everything which had happened these past ten years, Zac mercilessly pounded down on The Free World soldier, incensed by the badge of The Free World army the soldier bore. Then Zac felt hands grab him, pull him away, away from what was now nothing more than a bloody corpse.
Renshaw at first stared down at him, then grabbed his arm, forcing Zac to his feet. He said nothing, his judgment plain to see before Zac doubled over, his hands on his knees, as he tried to regain his breath. By the time he could straighten up, the road was clear, the bodies already dragged away, then he was roughly pulled back into the undergrowth.
“Bit of a red mist, there, Zac. Lucky for you this armor is near invincible,” Renshaw said as they made their way back up the slope. Zac winced, the pain in his ribs now intensifying as his adrenalin waned. “There was no need to beat on the boy like that.”
“Yeah,” Zac gasped, still all fired up, still panting, but Renshaw was already well ahead. Then it dawned on Zac the noise of their fight had likely blown their cover, and so he was soon back on the road, making an easier dash for the truck. As Zac got nearer, he met Billy and Laura, Billy giving him a look of confusion. “No time,” Zac shouted as he ran past, and Billy and Laura hightailed after him.
As they reached the truck, they found confusion abounded. Loser was running around, looking under the truck, then in the back before Saggers rushed off into the forest, the woman on his tail.
“What?” Zac shouted.