SHEDDING BOUNDARIES: an EMP survival story (The Hidden Survivor Book 4)

by Connor Mccoy

  “We’re meeting,” he said.

  “I need a minute.” She took a breath. Did he know what she was thinking? Was he imagining it himself?

  He disappeared from the doorway, and she attempted steadying inhalations. Slow the heart, calm the mind. Get yourself under control. She saw the binoculars flash in her direction and she waved at Robbie. Attempted a smile. Then she followed in Melvin’s wake, making her way back down to the apartment where she would pretend she wasn’t a raving maniac.

  Glen was pacing when Mia walked in. He glanced her way and said, “Good. You are here,” waving her into a chair. Or that’s how it felt to her, anyway. She stood behind Christian’s chair, her hands clutching the back for self-control.

  “We have to be careful,” Glen said, “not to fall into the morass of immorality that the court engenders. I want revenge, I can see Mia wants revenge, I’m sure others of us feel the same.”

  There were nods all around.

  “I want to draw and quarter them all,” Sally said. “Lovely Arthur would have advised the rule of law,” she choked on the words, “but there is no rule of law. Just barbaric power hungry bastards and I want them all dead.”

  Mia nodded. Sally was moving from grief to anger in a hurry, she thought. Hating the system that stole a wonderful, good-spirited man from them.

  “We need a plan,” Melvin said. “We can’t just walk in there and demand justice. We’ll be slaughtered.”

  “I don’t think so,” Glen said. “I think with the proof of their treachery in our hands, they’ll have to listen, have to bargain with us. They broke their own word. We had a month to prove our worth. It’s been two weeks. How can they justify such inconsistency?”

  “I don’t think they have to justify anything,” Melvin said. “They are the power in this city. The keepers of the flame. Well, it should be a flame. Here’s it’s more like torches and pitchforks.”

  “The deep chasm in Moria,” Sally said.

  “The what?” Mia asked.

  “The place Gandalf went before he turned white,” Sally said. “Or Mount Doom in Mordor.”

  “Gandalf was burned by the Balrog’s fire,” Christian said. “But I don’t think these people have the power of the Balrog, they are more like the drums in the deep. So many Orcs it’s impossible to flee them.”

  “Except that there aren’t that many of them,” Melvin said. “They are relatively few, but they rule with such brutality that the masses don’t dare defy them.”

  “So what do we do?” Mia said. “How do we defy them?”

  “I think we should take their enforcer back to them,” Glen said. “Tell them he’s killed one of their own and ask them what they will do about it. Press their own style of justice on them.”

  “I think we’ll all end up dead if we do that,” Melvin said. “They have no sense of justice. They are capricious and disorganized. The Chief Justice has lost control and without Arthur to balance his brutal counterpart the Court will turn into a place of vengeance. There will be no justice.”

  “We have to do something,” Christian said. “Someone needs to seek vengeance for Arthur. He did not need to die.”

  “We will do something,” Glen said, “it’s just a question of what. Do we charge in there, guns blazing, or do we do something more subtle?”

  “What is the point of subtle against people like that?” Mia asked, her voice coming out much louder than she intended. “They don’t understand subtle. They understand brute strength, and that's about it. We go in with concealed weapons and kill everyone we can before they take us down.”

  “Arthur wouldn’t have wanted us to die,” Sally said. “That’s why he was with us, to discover reasons we should be kept alive. He would be sad if we died avenging his life.”

  Mia struggled with her instinct to tell Sally she was wrong, to say that Arthur would have wanted them to inflict mayhem. But she knew that wasn’t true. Arthur would rather they flee to another city than stay here and live in fear for their lives. “Argh,” she cried out. “This is so hard. How can we do the right thing, but not get slaughtered?”

  “I say we take our assassin and throw him before the Court,” Melvin said. “If things go south, and I think they will, we hot foot it out of there. We each probably should have a concealed weapon, just to give ourselves a fighting chance.”

  “We need to leave Robbie here,” Mia said. “Put him in charge again. I don’t want his blood on our hands.”

  “Agreed,” Glen said. “Robbie stays here, and we give him instructions to escape anyway he can if the enforcers turn up here.”

  “What if they set fire to the place?” Sally said. “Will he know what to do?”

  “It’s a stone building,” Melvin began.

  “No way!” Mia felt the rage flare up inside her. “You are not leaving that child here to deal with the enforcers and building fires. Send him home. I don’t want Robbie’s blood on my hands. And neither do you.” She turned her back on them and turned around again. “We are supposed to be the good people. Good people don’t put children at risk. Not even smart and resourceful children who volunteer.”

  “She’s right,” Glen said. “Robbie is not a member of the team, not in an adult way. He’s one of us, but as someone we protect. He’s not old enough to choose the risk, because he’s not old enough to understand the risk. We’ll send him to Mia’s family’s apartment. He should be safe there.”

  “Do we go now, or wait until dusk?” Melvin asked.

  “Dusk, I think,” Glen said. “Our enforcer should be awake by then and, somehow, arriving at the Court as the sun is going down seems right to me.”

  “Alright, then I’m going to wash poor Arthur’s blood off the floors and walls of the medical clinic. I brought this upon you, it only seems fair I clean up the mess.” Melvin nodded and left the room.

  “I know where Robbie is,” Mia said. “I will go tell him what to expect and what to do.”

  She left the others discussing what they would do to prepare, and she let herself out the side door of the building. She walked into the park, looking for the tree that held their junior member. It took a minute. The view from down below wasn’t quite the same as from the balcony, but she found him, still keeping watch, in the tallest tree in the park.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Robbie, come down,” Mia called to the boy. “I need to talk to you.”

  “What?” his voice floated down through the remaining leaves.

  “Come down!” she called.

  “Coming.”

  Leaves rustled, branches cracked, and a variety of profanity reached her ears before Robbie was on the ground beside her. She plucked some dried leaves from his hair.

  “Come and sit down,” she said and led him to a nearby bench where she sat, and he didn’t.

  He stood at parade rest in front of her, watching her intently. He was doing a good imitation of a serviceman. Head tall, hands behind his back, legs wide, and she wondered where he’d learned to stand like that. She’d have to remember to ask him sometime.

  “Sit next time me,” she said. “I won’t bite.”

  “I prefer to stand, if it’s all the same to you, Ma’am.” His eyes looked straight ahead.

  “For Pete's sake,” she said, “this isn’t the military, but suit yourself. You remember the apartment where we were living before we came here?” She knew he did, but wanted to engage him in conversation, not give him orders.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he said.

  “This evening we are going to take the enforcer who killed Arthur down to the Court. I’m afraid of what the other enforcers might do while we’re gone, so I want you to take any children who still might be living in the guest house over to the apartment and stay there until we give you the all clear. Do you understand? We want to be sure that none of you get hurt.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. I understand.” He still was looking right over her head.

  “What do you understand, Robbie?” she asked.<
br />
  “That I am to take the others to the apartment and they are to stay there until you give the all clear,” he barked.

  “Robbie, you are to stay at the apartment too,” she said.

  “I cannot do that, Ma’am,” he said.

  “And why not?” she asked.

  “Because it is my duty to help you in any way I can, Ma’am. The Judge told me so, and I promised I would.” His lower lip quivered the tiniest bit before he got it under control.

  So that was it. He was hiding his grief behind a mask of duty and obligation. Arthur had treated him like an adult, and he was honoring Arthur by behaving as much like an adult as he knew how. And pushing his pain underneath that. He wouldn’t sit beside her because he was afraid she would be nice and he would cry.

  “Is it your duty to obey orders, Robbie?” she asked.

  “Yes, Ma’am. I am to obey orders, Ma’am.” He was blinking hard.

  “Then I order you to stay with the other children in the apartment until I give the all clear. Do you understand?”

  “Ma’am, yes ma’am.”

  She was tempted to order him to stop talking like a soldier, but she figured that once he’d found a time and place to have a good cry, he would go back to his usual self, and only revert to armyspeak on occasion. At least she hoped so.

  “Can you come to help me get some provisions together, so there is food and water at the apartment for everyone? I think Sally made some pumpkin soup we could take.”

  He followed her back to their home base in the museum, and they packed up old milk crates with food and water. He loaded them onto his wagon and sent a few of his troops – the older of the children – to the apartment to prepare for a stay of indeterminate length.

  Mia was about to find Sally and see what else needed doing when Robbie got her attention. “We’ve got a bunch of blow-up mattresses we got from a sporting goods shop. Should we take them over to the apartment too? So people can sleep? Not everyone is used to sleeping on the floor.”

  “Yes, you can take those over, Robbie,” she said, “and then spread the word.”

  She found Sally checking the enforcer’s wounds. He was conscious, but Sally had taped his mouth shut. “He was vile,” Sally explained. “Or I wouldn’t have done it.”

  “Why bother to clean him up?” Mia asked. She would have liked to give this enforcer a good kick.

  “Because of humanitarianism. The laws of war say we don’t mistreat prisoners. That means stitching their wounds, cleaning them up, and letting them use the bathroom. It doesn’t mean taking their foul abuse, though. So, I had no reservations about taping his mouth shut. I also sedated him, so he’ll be drifting back to sleep soon.”

  Mia shook her head. “I wouldn’t do it,” she said. “This guy can die a long slow death of starvation as far as I’m concerned.” She turned to the man, “You killed an honorable man with a kind soul. The kind of man who makes the world a better place. To me, that makes you a piece of shit. You’re lucky the others decided to let you live. I wouldn’t have.” She refrained from spitting on his face, but only because Sally would disapprove.

  She stayed with Sally until she finished and then locked the man back in the cupboard. She double-checked the knob and threw the bolt as well. He’d be there until they were good and ready to let him out.

  At dusk, they dragged their prisoner from the closet, and Melvin looked him over. He seemed whole enough to make the walk to the Court, and he gave the others the nod. They’d debated about what to bring. Should they be armed? Guns or knives? What did they hope to accomplish? In the end, Glen and Melvin concealed-carried, and the others came unarmed. They didn’t have any experience firing firearms in a crowd, and the Court might be full of people pleading their innocence tonight.

  Melvin volunteered to take one of the enforcer’s arms and Christian the other, and once they were out the door, Sally walked next to Melvin, while Mia flanked Christian. Glen took up the rear.

  “If you run, I’ll shoot you,” Glen told the enforcer when they’d removed him from captivity. “Don’t mistake me for a good guy. I’m not.”

  The enforcer had stopped struggling and now was cooperating with the two men. They came up the driveway and turned on the street, which should have been barren at this time of night. It wasn’t, though. There were people, lots of people. They fell in behind Glen as the party passed. They walked in silent vigil, showing their support to the people who were trying to bring them stability.

  It wasn’t a crowd of hundreds, but Robbie had taken Mia at her word and spread the news. Not just to his posse of children, but to the families who used the clinic. He was there among them, and Mia was hissing at him to go back to the apartment. The group swelled for about four blocks, but as they neared the center of town the numbers dropped, and when they reached the alley leading to the entrance to the Court there were a scant fifteen people who still followed, and fewer yet reached the stairs down to the jackal door to the Court.

  Glen turned. “Go home,” he said. “We appreciate your support, and Arthur would be humbled, I’m sure, but you are in danger here, and none of us wants you to be injured. They’ll be other times for you to step up. This isn’t that time.”

  Melvin wasn’t sure about that. It would be nice to have a crowd to disappear into if they ever got out of here again. As they approached the stairs the enforcer started to struggle, he kicked out and caught Melvin in the shin.

  “Blast.” Melvin let go of the enforcer. The man struggled to get away from Christian, who was able to keep hold of his other side.

  There was the sound of a barrel slide, and Glen said, “Stop!”

  The enforcer stopped dead still, except for his head, which turned slowly. From the corner of his eye he looked at Glen, and the gun he was holding. Then he walked down the stairs with Christian, and into the jackal’s mouth. Melvin, who came directly afterward, noticed a bead of sweat running down the back of his neck.

  He doesn’t think he’s going to get out of this alive, Melvin thought. He thinks we’ve brought him here to die.

  The enforcer had the key, and they were able to enter without ringing the giant bell. They slid into the passageway and stood outside the Court, since there was a case being tried.

  “I didn’t fire the gun,” a woman was pleading. “It wasn’t even loaded. I just needed food for my children, and he had plenty. It was going to go bad.”

  “Nevertheless, you robbed a man at gunpoint, and that is a punishable offense.” It was Xander’s voice, and Melvin wondered where Chantal was. Did she have no compassion?

  “If you kill me, my children will starve to death,” the woman said.

  “They can come work in the kitchens,” Xander said. “Let it not be said I am without compassion.”

  The woman sucked in her breath.

  “As Judge Davis is not with us, and Judge Brown has not yet learned that he is here to balance you, Xander, I will argue for compassion.” So, Chantal was there after all. “Robbing a man of rotting vegetables with an unloaded gun is hardly an executable offense.”

  Xander was going to have the woman executed? He was a barbarian. Melvin felt his blood burn.

  “A month working in our kitchens is punishment enough.” Chantal’s voice was firm. “The children can help with the chores.”

  “Justice, she held him at gunpoint,” Xander interrupted. “That, in and of itself, is a capital offense.”

  “If we kill our citizens for trying to feed their children when they are starving,” Chantal said, her voice as still and cold as ice, “we soon will have no citizens left. I vote we let the woman go with a one month sentence.”

  A month in which the woman easily would be able to feed her children, Melvin realized. A compassionate punishment.

  “They will kill her if we do not enter,” Christian hissed, and Melvin realized he was right.

  With his hand gripping the enforcer’s elbow, Melvin pulled him into the Court and threw him down onto the f
loor next to the sobbing woman. The others followed behind him, and they stood bunched behind him. Then Glen stepped forward to stand beside Melvin.

  The enforcer looked only at Xander, but Melvin, and he thought Glen too, sought Chantal. She had blanched.

  “What is this?” she asked. “You have no business barging into the Court. As you can see, we are in session.”

  And about to execute a mother for feeding her children, Melvin thought.

  “Your enforcer came to our medical clinic and killed Arthur Davis, your own judge,” Glen said. “What have you to say to that?”

  Chantal sent a look of pure hatred toward Xander before she got her face under control.

  “And what is your proof?” Chantal asked.

  “Proof? They have no proof!” Xander roared. “They killed Judge Davis and took his bodyguard hostage. They must be put to death.”

  “Arthur Davis came to us alone,” Melvin said. “Your enforcer came to kill him. There are witnesses and others he injured.”

  “What witnesses?” Xander yelled. “There are no witnesses.” He glared at the enforcer, who dropped his head.

  “To begin with, we all witnessed the attack and tried to save Arthur’s life. Secondly, there were upwards of twenty-five patients in the clinic, many of whom were waiting in line to check in when this man came in. An innocent man was shot in the leg before Arthur was killed. There are many many witnesses.”

  Chantal stood up. “We will adjourn for a few minutes,” she said. “No one is to leave this room.” She looked meaningfully at the other enforcers in the room and then left the dais. “Come Xander.”

  Chantal was incensed. She stood in the judges’ conference room and fumed at Xander. That he looked angry and defiant only made it worse. “Tell me you didn’t command an enforcer to kill another judge. Tell me you aren’t the greatest fool in the city, Xander,” she demanded.

  “Arthur was soft,” Xander said. “But why do you believe what those medical people tell you? They harbor a fugitive, and by the way, I know which one he is.”

  “I do not care who Melvin Foles is at this moment,” Chantal raged. “You cannot take lives into your own hands. What right have you to order Arthur’s execution? I valued the compassion he brought to the Court. Left to you, half the city would have been executed by now, and the other half would have died of starvation.”