Normally, Mary would accompany me to take notes, but the talks were not at all important, and she was having far too much fun playing in the sun and sand. In fact, with the exception of arranging for a new batch of weapons and the related ammunition, I don’t think any of it mattered. As if I care about the logistics of moving men from Hawaii and other outposts to Yellowstone the following spring. I’m on the receiving end. The government has the planes. They have the soldiers. They have the refinery that produces fuel. All I can do to help is guarantee a safe spot to land. The rest is out of my hands.
In addition to the military / militia conferences, there was one other social event, a dinner shortly before we were to leave. Before I get to that, let me state that Briggs, while a proper commissioned officer, was considered to be essentially the same as me. We both led militias composed of local survivors. They were not soldiers, and Major Briggs never treated them as such. It was as if he was on detached duty or something.
To the social dinner. Okay, this was a momentous occasion with all of us present. Briana spent most of her time with Christine Lawson. They had their own table to the side so the children would be out of the way. Several others nearby held the families of other guests. It is a bit amusing how children are now included in far more events than in the good old days. I think it is due to the massive death toll. With so many gone, the little ones are a greater treasure than ever before.
Mary was hanging around me. The twins were with Briana, and Major Briggs was off speaking with Senator Fletchle. I had definitely been wrong about that man. He was every bit as supportive of the military as Briggs had previously stated. As a part of this, Fletchle tried to arrange for us to get some fighter jets. I quickly pointed out that while it was a nice sentiment, I didn’t have any use for them, not any longer. Instead, I asked for equipment to upgrade our civilian aircraft, such as the heat sensing technology on the Cessna Kimberly had flown when we were fighting the prophet. I didn’t expect to get it, but the senator made it happen. That would be going back with us.
“I’m bored,” she said.
“This is getting to me too,” I agreed. “We don’t seem to be as popular as the first time around.”
“Yeah, we’re boring now. It’s probably your fault.”
“That or they’re all afraid you’ll tell them exactly what you think.”
Mary smirked. “It’s easier than lying, and I always do the easiest thing.”
“You are pretty lazy, not as much as me of course, since that’s impossible, but a close second.”
She looked around. “How much longer until we can go?”
I shrugged. “Another hour at least. Briana is having fun, so there’s no chance of prying her away. She looks to be feeling fine too, at the moment, and you know there’s no way she’ll let that go to waste.”
“God,” she sighed. “Maybe I should go play with Asher.”
“Don’t you dare leave me alone. If you do, I’ll have to either mingle or go back to Briana myself, and I don’t want to listen to another conversation on the best type of cloth to use for diapers. That’s all those two have been talking about.”
“Hey, you were the one who got her pregnant. It’s your fault that Briana is dwelling on baby stuff.”
I repressed a sigh of my own. “Don’t I know it. Besides, you shouldn’t be on the floor while wearing that dress, not unless you want to flash everyone.”
Mary turned bright scarlet. The gown she was wearing was a present from the president’s wife. It was a lovely shade of charcoal that went well with Mary’s blonde hair and fair complexion. There was also a relatively high hem line, and it was cut in a manner that didn’t lend itself to bending over. This dress was exactly the sort of thing my daughter should not be wearing, but Briana had declared it gorgeous, vetoing my objections before I had the chance to utter them.
“The major is talking to some woman now,” she observed. “Think it’s a girlfriend? They seem kinda close, and I know he doesn’t have one in Yellowstone.”
“He tell you that?”
Come to think of it, I had never heard Major Briggs mention a significant other, nor had I seen him associate with anyone in a romantic way.
“No, Michael did. It’s common knowledge over there. The gossip doesn’t ever reach us.” Mary took another sip of her lemonade. “I wish Michael was here, but I’ll be able to see him soon.”
“You should fill a jar with sand,” I suggested, “to give to him.”
She regarded me carefully. “Whatever for?”
“As a visual aid for when you’re telling him how great Hawaii was, how nice the beaches are, how warm the water is, you know, all the things he didn’t get to see.”
“That’s horrible.”
I chuckled. “Only a little. Michael will be asking you about everything you did, so why not have some fun when he does?”
“I am going to take a little sand back,” she decided, “but I plan on putting it in a big bowl with Asher’s sea shells on top.”
“The runt will like that. Let’s try to keep that in the living room though. Just think of Briana’s reaction if she finds sand all over his room or in the bed.”
One of the other guests, a senator I thought, staggered past us on his way to the open bar. It was the fourth time the man had done so since the buffet style dinner began. Actually, calling it a dinner was an overstatement. There was food, but it was more along the line of glorified snacks than a true meal.
“We should take a surfboard home too,” said Mary. “There are lots to choose from that no one wants.”
“What would you do with it?”
“Hang it on the wall. I know, we can have Steph do a tropical style restaurant or bar. It could be the first decoration she…”
Mary squealed and spun about, slapping the hand of the inebriated senator. He had grabbed her backside.
He leered at her. “Don’t be so…”
Before Mary could punch him – she was pulling her arm back to do exactly that – I had my own hand around his neck, and I wasted no time in slamming his head against the wall. The glass he was holding fell from his grasp and bounced on the carpet.
“You ever touch my daughter again…” I bashed him into the sheetrock a second time, cracking it and leaving a streak of blood on the white paint. “…and I will cut off your balls, stuff them down your throat…” A third strike. “…and then stake you out on an ant hill!”
All three of the security personnel in the room were heading directly for me. Tara and Dale reached us first.
I let go, and he fell to the floor.
One of the police officers – there was no more secret service, but the local equivalent of law enforcement also doubled as guards for the president, at least when the military wasn’t doing the job – tried to push past Tara. She swept his legs out from under him. Before he knew what was happening, he was flat on his back.
“Tara, Dale!” ordered Briana. “Stand down. Jacob is through.”
The siblings glanced at me, but it was over, the man incapable of doing anything. To be fair, I wanted to hit him again, several times in fact, but I held back. I’d already broken his nose and knocked out several teeth. Anything more was going to get me into trouble. My daughter was less concerned about possible consequences. She grabbed the container of gravy off the serving table and upended it over the man’s crotch. It wasn’t boiling. At least, I don’t think it was. He screamed.
“Both of you!” exclaimed Briana. “I swear I can’t take you anywhere.” She was glaring. The remainder of the room was deadly silent. “My God. Just kill the fucking pervert molester next time.”
She looked over at Christine Lawson apologetically. “Sorry about the mess they made.”
“Should we kill him?” asked Dale.
“No killing,” ordered Major Briggs. He pushed his way through the crowd. “Oh, that asshole,” he added, looking down and seeing who it was.
Such comments were not typical of the office
r, and I had never heard him speak in that manner about someone before, not in a public setting.
“Mr. President,” he continued, “sexual assault of any sort is not tolerated in the Black Hills or in Yellowstone.”
“We would string the bastard up for grabbing a child like that.” This came from one of the Yellowstone officials who’d accompanied the major on this trip.
Mary stiffened. She hated being referred to as a child.
“Senator Mons has been drinking,” pointed out the President Lawson.
“No excuse,” stated Martin, “but a good whipping is in order, at the very least.”
There was no reaction.
“Look here. If you allow old men to go around fondling little girls with no punishment, then Yellowstone is going to go from being autonomous to independent.”
“Do not try to coerce me,” said the president, stiffly.
“Okay, everyone,” declared Major Briggs. “Let’s calm down.”
“I am not going to calm down,” protested the man. The other representative from Yellowstone gave a nod as well. “I want to know if this piece of shit is going to be punished or if he gets to walk away cause he’s a damn senator.”
“Mons crossed the line when he got physical,” said Lawson. “I’m requesting impeachment hearings immediately.” He looked at one of the security officers. “Get him to the hospital and once he’s thinking straight arrest him. I’m not sure what the penalty is off the top of my head, but it’s somewhere around a year in prison.”
“A year?” inquired Martin and Briana, almost simultaneously.
“You are going to waste a year’s worth of food and all the work those watching him could otherwise do by keeping him in jail that long?” she added. “Martin’s right. Just tie him to a pole and give him a good sixty or seventy lashes. It gets the point across far better.”
“We do not engage in torture here,” said some woman.
“It’s not torture, and you being such cowards when it comes to dealing with crime is why you have so much more than us.” Briana was on a roll. “I’ve seen your records. It is way safer where we live, zombies and crazies notwithstanding, than it is here in paradise. Jacob, we are going.”
I followed my wife out the door. Mary paused briefly to kick Senator Mons in the side of the head. That was sure to help. He was groaning though, so at least I knew she hadn’t killed him.
* * *
“The good news is that there are going to be no charges against any of you,” said Major Briggs.
“Why would there be?” asked Mary.
We were in the hotel suite packing the last of our belongings. Asher was playing on the floor while the twins were cleaning their weapons.
“Jacob, or possibly you, gave him a concussion. And you, Mary, gave him second degree burns.”
“He deserved it,” she stated, resolutely.
“Alfred Mons did at that,” confirmed the major. “He used his family connections and the many cargo ships they control to get elected in the first place. He used his position to bully and abuse anyone who got in his way. He is also very unpopular and had no chance of staying in office past this term. Additionally, Mons has been accused of being too forceful with women, especially young ones. No accusations of rape, but there are reports of groping and flashing, among other things.”
“And he ended up a senator?” inquired Briana.
“He will be thrown out in the next couple of weeks,” continued Briggs. “With more women and girls coming forward to talk about how he treated them over the past few years, that’s all but guaranteed. I don’t think the court will give him any jail time though. You’re leaving, so you won’t be here to testify against him, and…” He paused. “…he may not recover.”
“How badly is this going to affect us diplomatically?” I asked. The man’s well being meant nothing to me.
“That’s less certain,” confessed the major. “There is already a debate going about the differences between the people here and those who are still living under the threat of the zombies, as well as that of groups like the raiders and The Brotherhood. People are cutting you a lot of slack because, as the reporters have been saying all last night and most of this morning, you are living day to day trying to stay alive and to keep your families free from harm. What Hawaii might consider an excessive response or vigilante justice is what you are forced by circumstances to do.”
Hawaii has a single functioning television station that broadcasts round the clock. Most of the shows are old reruns, but they do have a morning and evening news show. Additionally, their reporters – there were only two of them – sometimes broke in at other times to give alerts. The same applied for the lone radio station.
“That’s stretching things,” said Briana.
“Helps us out,” I countered. “Are they looking for excuses to let us off the hook?”
“In short, yes. Like I said, Alfred Mons is widely despised, and with so many speaking out against him, his supporters are fleeing. Even his family is keeping quiet. Don’t think they aren’t standing with him however. You have an enemy for life with that clan.”
More enemies. Hurray for me.
“It will die down, but this is not going to be forgotten. You can expect a place in the history books.”
“Jacob will be in the history books no matter what,” said Briana. “He founded and runs one of the only two big settlements still in existence on the mainland.”
“We set it up and run it together,” I corrected.
She snorted. “You set it up. I just do the hard work that keeps it functioning.”
“I also mentioned that Mons started a diplomatic crisis by grabbing the underage daughter of a visiting dignitary. The Black Hills is an autonomous body. That is also all over the news.”
I smiled. The major was quite good at political maneuvering.
“Martin dropped his threats of independence,” he added. “You may not realize it, but you have a tremendous degree of power. Without Yellowstone and the Black Hills, it is likely that there would be no attempt to reclaim the mainland. The people here and on the other islands do not want to return to their old homes. When there are surveys and polls, it is something along the lines of ninety percent refusing to move to the continental United States, even if it is cleared of the dead. They don’t consider it safe.”
“There aren’t enough people that they would have to either,” mused Briana. “Not like they need us to grow food to feed them all.”
“Good point,” I agreed. “Okay, we dodged what might have been a nasty bullet. We go home, and we stay quiet. No more diplomatic trips. We can go ahead and say formally that the vastly different living conditions and dangers have resulted in contrary cultures. While Hawaii is focused on rebuilding, we are concerned with staying alive. Not completely true, I know, but it protects us and sets up the understanding that we will react harshly to any perceived threats against our families.”
“I’ll speak with Senator Fletchle prior to leaving. He will be elated to have something this juicy to spin. It’s the sort of thing he lives for.”
“Can he do it the right way?” asked Briana. “He didn’t seem super sophisticated.”
“Well enough to suit our needs,” replied Major Briggs. “The military is siding with you, unofficially since it would be inappropriate to issue statements, but the rank and file have no love for Mons. They do, however, respect those willing to defend their own. You need to remember that unlike on the mainland, the current government always had a large group of soldiers on hand, and it was these men and women who primarily cleared the zombies. Those in uniform consider you a close cousin, far closer than the typical civilian in Hawaii. I’ll direct Fletchle toward a few officers who will help him out.”
“I don’t like games like this.” Briana pulled on her hair for a moment, then twisted it into a braid which she draped over one shoulder. “Can’t hurt. I think Christine Lawson was a little upset when I said to just kill the man
instead of beating him up.”
“Swift justice, especially in a time of great stress, is easier to explain away than you might think,” explained Briggs.
“She has a daughter of her own,’ I commented. “The woman will get over it, or not.”
Interlude – Renee’s Story
“What are you thinking for tonight?” asked Rudy. “Roast venison?”
“I’m leaning toward quail, but I’ll wait and see if they have anything else, something new.”
“When did they get quail? There wasn’t any yesterday.”
Renee shot him a smile. “One of the hunters brought back quite a few this morning and traded them to Diane in exchange for a small cask of ale. I was over at the time, and she said they’d be cooked up for dinner, first come, first serve.”
Diana is the proprietor of one of the numerous taverns in Baltis. Many of these establishments brew their own beer and serve light meals, but their true popularity is as a place to relax and unwind. The majority of the settlement’s residents continue to eat in the large dining halls run by Steph, with a few preferring to cook for themselves in their cabins. Beer and liquor, which was once strictly regulated and all but outlawed, is everywhere nowadays, and there is a large communal brewery which produces a seemingly endless flow. This particular ale, however, contains a very low alcohol content. It’s primary purpose is to provide a drink safe to consume. Lacking large scale water purification, this remains a constant concern.
“I need to become friends with more hunters,” he commented. “They always have the best stuff.”
“Rudy, you need more friends, period.”
“Plenty of lovely ladies find me quite charming.”
Renee laughed. “Cute, maybe, but not charming. You’re never charming. You can be nice at times, but even that’s pushing it.”
Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 3): Salvation Page 31
