by AR Shaw
Austin nodded his head. “Yes, that was him.”
“That’s a relief. I don’t want to go through that again today.” He was still trying to catch his breath. “Guy was relentless. Nearly killed me.”
Holding on to the edge of the wall with a firm grip, Bishop leaned outward and looked below. Men in black were still wandering around looking for the enemy.
“Who are those guys?” Bishop gestured with his chin.
Austin laughed. “They’re hotel security and bellboys and staff.”
“Did they like this guy much?”
“No one liked Roman.”
“So, you don’t think they’ll miss him?”
“That, I don’t know. They did what he said without question. If they didn’t, they were dead men.”
“Well, let’s send them a message,” Bishop said and pushed Roman’s body over the edge where the man had attempted to send him earlier.
Now, in silent descent, the black-suited dead man tumbled through the vast empty space; his suit jacket flapped in the wind, and then, with an audible thud, the body hit the snowy ground and caught the attention of all those on watch.
Observing, Bishop leaned out the window farther, gusts of wind drying his eyes. Three armed men approached the body, then stood again and looked up. While one returned quickly inside the building with his rifle jangling behind him, the other two wandered away, leaving abandoned footsteps in their wake.
“Let’s get down there and see where we’re at. Same rules as before—stay close behind me.”
Austin nodded. “The only way out is through.”
“Yeah,” Bishop said and exited the penthouse. They hit the elevator down button and waited cautiously. Soon the car opened, and once inside, Bishop hit the lobby button.
“You sure?” Austin asked with concern.
“I have a hunch we’re done here, but if we have any issues, follow my lead.”
Descending the fifteen floors took too much time for Bishop to think. He’d been away from Maeve too long, and he pictured them huddled in the dark, worried and scared while they waited for his return.
Suddenly, the elevator door opened. Bishop craned his head around the corner to sneak a peek into the lobby, where he saw several men dressed in black standing in front of the raging fireplace facing him.
No one said a word. On the ground in front of them was a pile of rifles. Bishop looked from one face to another and said to Austin, “They’re all boys. Not one over twenty-five.”
“Roman made sure anyone who went against him died. The older men were the first to go.”
Tentatively, Bishop stepped out of the elevator. “Raise your hands where I can see them,” he yelled loud and clear.
One step after the other, Bishop kept his rifle trained for any sudden movement. There were at least twenty young men standing in the lobby. Most of them bore looks of shame; some of them even cried.
Bishop used that to his advantage. With a commanding voice, he yelled, “Take off your black shirts and your black pants now. Any sudden movement and you all die.”
They looked from one to the other, and slowly they did as Bishop demanded. Soon the young men stood in their underwear. Some wore boxers while a few wore briefs.
As Austin watched his back, Bishop motioned his rifle at a smaller man on the left. “You. Pick up the clothes and toss them into the fireplace.”
The scared boy nodded and did as Bishop said.
Sparks flew out as he hefted the load inside. The enormous fireplace whooshed with a fresh blaze.
“That’s it. You.” He pointed to a taller kid. “Are there any more of you anywhere?”
“No sir!” he said at first and then looked around. “Well, a few left already.”
“Where did they go?”
The kid looked around. “Home, sir?” His statement came out more like a guess.
Bishop looked at their young faces again. “You damn stupid kids!” He couldn’t just let them go. They were murderers and thieves. They were the minions of a tyrant much like the soldiers that served the horrors of Hitler.
“You don’t blindly follow anyone! Use your damn brains!”
His angry voice rattled them. Each of them took steps backward in nervous fright. He had to do something. The people in the town were terrified and dying because of them. Because of Roman’s demands, but ultimately because these boys gave Roman that power by following his orders and complying with his requests without questioning authority.
“Never will you wear that uniform again. Is that understood?” he bellowed.
“Yes, sir.”
“That uniform is what terrified these people now. You’ve succeeded in ingraining that terror into them. They’re dying out there. Your families, remember them? The people you’ve abandoned? That uniform is no different than a swastika. If I see anyone wear it again, they’re dead. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir!” they said in unison, more loudly this time.
“All of you…leave. Just as you are. In your shoes and underwear. Go to your homes and beg forgiveness from your loved ones if you have them. If you don’t have a home here, you’ll have to beg entrance somewhere else. Some of you will die in your attempt for salvation, but that’s the price you paid. You’re at the mercy of these people now.”
Again they each looked to one another, and when no clear leader emerged, one of them edged toward the door, as if uncertain they were really free to go. They all went as a group. Some of them ran immediately in no particular direction. Some followed others. With the weather well below freezing, they wouldn’t get very far.
45
Opening the door, Bishop began to walk out.
“Where are you going?” Austin asked. “You can’t just leave now!”
Putting a hand on Austin’s shoulder, Bishop asked, “Is there an intercom in the building?”
“Yes, in the control room.”
“Can you use it to address any guests or anyone else still in the building to come to the lobby? We need to get some things in order.”
“Yeah, I can do that.”
“Good, get them down here. Put those guns in a secure place and I’ll be right back. I have an errand to do.”
“Bishop, I can’t do what you do.”
“Austin, you’re the man now. Your dad would expect this of you, and you’re capable. There’s no more time to be a boy. Point and shoot if you have to. I’ll be right back.”
Bishop left without looking back and climbed past the body he’d dropped, walking down the road going east the way he came. Gusts of wind blew flurries by, metal street signs barely visible above the snow shuddered in the strong breeze. He had no doubt many of the nearly naked boys would die out there tonight.
Fighting the wind, several blocks later Bishop stopped where his snowmobile lay covered and half-hidden in the snow from earlier that morning. Looking for the little boy who’d landed in the icy berm, he only saw boot marks near where the child was thrown. He had no idea if the boy lived or died, but at least he had a chance.
Starting the snowmobile in near darkness, Bishop soon pulled up to the storage unit. With his night vision on, his heart pounded the closer he came. There was no mistaking something had taken place by the marks in the snow and blood splatters on the walls near his unit.
“Maeve?” he yelled. “Maeve?”
Seeing the lock obliterated, he held an AR-15 out and ready, having no idea what he might find on the other side. He slowly lifted the door.
Inside, he found her glowing eyes watching him, and her hands trembled around her Glock that aimed at him.
“Maeve, it’s me, Bishop.” He lifted off his helmet as she rushed into his arms. His voice alone confirmed his identity.
“Oh thank God, it’s you.”
He held her tight. She couldn’t stop shaking. “It’s me, it’s going to be OK now.”
Taking her in his arms, he realized soon the cold temperatures would be too much. He had to get them to safet
y now. Having cleared one menace, he now needed to get them somewhere warm.
“Let’s go,” he said and loaded them onto Jake.
As the snow fell, he found himself retracing his previous tracks back to the hotel. With Maeve and the both children mounted on the back of his horse, he led them down the familiar road. But this time, it was different. In the houses lining the streets, people didn’t shy from the windows now. They opened their doors and yelled out to him.
“Hey, mister!”
He waved to them. “Follow me,” he said.
By the time he could see the hotel, a bright warming light glowed from within. Streams of dark figures were filing into the building.
Soon they were surrounded by people in dark rags on either side. The crowd of townspeople who’d watched from their silent houses made way for him between them, and then someone began to clap. Another took up the cheer, and Bishop stopped and looked up to Maeve as if to ask, “What’s going on?”
“You saved the town, Bishop. You saved us all.”
46
Bishop stopped near the entrance and helped Maeve and the children down from the horse. As he went inside, the first thing he saw was Austin’s smiling face.
Already a banquet table was set up, and warm food was in preparation. People lined the inside of the enormous lobby where the cheery fireplaces blazed.
“Who are these people?” Bishop asked Austin as he gazed at the many workers passing out plates of food and warm blankets.
“Some of them are the guests who were hiding out here. Others are staff who stayed away when Roman took over. I sent out word to get them to come back and help. Word travels fast.”
Austin was in his element. He shouted orders to several people. “Someone take this man’s horse to the office at the end of the hall and give him whatever he wants.”
Bishop laughed and handed the reins to an older gentleman who took Jake away. Then he led Maeve and the children to a seat near the fireplace to get them warm. Austin stopped by and said, “I’ve got a room for you and your family upstairs.”
Before Bishop could correct him, he handed him the keys. Maeve put her hand over his and said, “You’re not getting out of my sight again, mister. We can share.”
His eyes found hers. He wasn’t sure if he could share the same space with anyone for long, but for her, he would try.
They sat down on a cushioned bench. Ben at his right and Maeve, with Louna on her lap, on his left. Their rifles by their sides. People were still filing in with only the rags on their backs covered in snow, looking like the ghosts they nearly were, when suddenly Louna screamed out.
Bishop jumped and held his rifle out. The blond hair of the woman running toward them was an unmistakable match for the girl’s.
Maeve cried, “You’re alive!” but that was all that was needed to be said. It was clear the woman clutching Louna, both of them sobbing, was a relative. Maeve clung to Bishop’s side after giving the girl up freely to her mother.
Bishop took a blanket and wrapped it around them, enclosing them in safety together. There was no separating the two.
Like a scene from a medieval past, people huddled in groups eating from plates handed to them while candle and firelight fought off the darkness from outside.
Austin’s helpers passed out hotel room keys to those that had no place to stay, washed dishes, and gave directions, and everyone pitched in where needed.
After they’d eaten, Bishop held a sleeping Ben to his shoulder and led Maeve through the crowds and up the elevator. When the doors were shut, Maeve said, “How did you do this?”
He lifted his shoulder as if he had nothing to say.
“Man of few words.”
47
With dim light cascading into the room, Bishop woke. At first, he had no idea where he was, but as he stared up at the white ceiling adorned with metal sprinkler heads instead of the cave ceiling of his typical surroundings, the reality of what had taken place a week ago rushed back to him. Maeve…Ben?
He launched himself from the couch and found them both lying motionless on the queen bed, still sound asleep. Nearing the side of the bed, Maeve’s hair cascaded out over the pillow like a radiating flame. Softly snoring, she had one hand clutched around her son’s wrist; even in sleep she was a good mother.
Without resisting the urge, Bishop nudged a strand of hair out of Maeve’s face, exposing her slender neck, and then he wished he hadn’t because the bruising there in shades of purple and green caused the muscles in his arms to flex with malicious intent against those who had hurt her.
Despite that, Maeve was every bit as beautiful, possibly more so, in her peaceful sleeping state. Tearing his eyes away from her was difficult, but then he heard a distant noise. A familiar noise. When he walked over to the window and looked out over the ice, he recognized the man on the snowmobile from before. There were two of them this time, and they were heavily armed.
Just in case this meant trouble for them, Bishop quickly put on his outerwear and grabbed his recovered AR-15 and Beretta out of habit as he began to leave.
“Where are you going?” Maeve asked sleepily.
He wasn’t used to answer to anyone about his actions. He stared at her, and she reached for him, her arm outstretched for him to take.
Staring at her gesture, as if this meant more than mere words, he went to her and wrapped his rough hand beneath her slender forearm. His voice raspy, he whispered, “There’s a party of men coming over the ice. I need to go out and meet them—see what they want and where they’re from. I saw them once before. He seemed dejected. I need to make sure they’re no threat to us.”
She held on to him while she rubbed her sleepy eyes with her other hand. As he watched her, she stared up at him, and then he felt a tug as she pulled him toward her. He bent down as she led him to her lips. Pressing her own to his lightly, she kissed him, and he found himself responding before he’d even made the decision. His arm slid behind her neck, his other behind her back. When they finally pulled away, her look of shock mirrored his own. Never had such an encounter sent such a shockwave through him. “I…I won’t be long.”
She looked confused suddenly. “Please don’t. Please come right back.”
“I will,” he said and cleared the thick feeling in his throat as he left.
In the lobby, his mind wandered over the past few days while they’d stayed in the hotel. Much had been accomplished. Austin was turning out to be a great leader for the town.
Once downstairs, he found Austin peering out the big window to the south.
“What do you think they want?” Bishop asked, causing Austin to turn.
“I’m not sure. I think that’s the sheriff who left and went to Rockford Bay when Roman and Frank were taking over.”
Bishop thought about that for a moment. “Would you call the man a coward?”
Austin shook his head. “No, I think he just knew he was beaten. I know he took several people with him and tried to warn the rest. I’m sure he feels responsible, but he has a family and another community to protect there as well.”
Bishop nodded as the snowmobiles stopped on the edge of the frozen lake. The riders stepped off, removing their helmets and looking at the building with questions on their faces.
“They’re expecting Roman’s men to come out and meet them. They look confused.”
“You’re the boss here, Austin. You want to invite them inside? Ask them what they want. I’ll cover you.”
“I…I’m not sure. I think you’ll be better at negotiating with them.”
“I’m not the leader here, Austin. You are. This is your show. You’ve done a great job of rallying this town so far. I’ll back you up.”
“OK,” Austin said, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.
“I’ll go with you, but you’re the man. I’m just your backup. You can do this.”
Austin nodded. “OK,” he said, sounding more confident than before.
Neither
of them was prepared for the even colder brisk air tightening their lungs the moment they set foot outside. Drifts of snow had piled up in berms as wisps of air swirled out over the flat ice. Once a winter wonderland, the lake now looked formidable. The men waiting were adorned with frozen mustaches despite the helmets they’d worn.
The temperature had dropped even further, so there was no question of remaining outside for long. Instead, Austin, followed by Bishop with his hand on his rifle, stepped outside. When the other men saw them, Austin attempted to speak, but the wind stole his words right away. Instead, he waved for the two men to follow them into the building.
He and Bishop retreated as the two men cautiously joined them. After shaking off the snow, one man extended his hand to Austin.
“Hi, I’m Carl Hanson. I was sheriff here. I think I’ve met you before. It’s my understanding that Roman has taken over here. I’d like to speak with him if I may.”
Clearing his throat, Austin said, “There’s been a change in management here. Roman is no longer with us.”
Bishop watched as the man looked from Austin to himself and back. Bishop detected fear in the man the second he stepped inside. Carl took a deep breath. “Who’s in charge now then?”
Austin stood a little taller than before and glanced at Bishop. “I am.”
A look of utter relief washed over the man. He looked to his partner, who had so far remained silent, and Bishop could see tears in his eyes too.
“Then, please, Austin, my people are dying. I need your help.”
Austin smiled and led them to a sunken sitting area. The fireplaces kept the lobby so warm that the two men began taking off layers of coats, then held their hands out to the blaze, warming them for the first time in weeks, Bishop guessed.
“Who are you?” Carl asked, referring to Bishop.
Austin answered, “This is my associate, Bishop. He helps me keep things in order.”
A smile came to Carl’s face. He stretched out his hand to shake Bishop’s. “I know a military man when I see one.”
Bishop only nodded. The other man with Carl introduced himself as Tom Maloney.
