She shrugged. "I'm not in here much, so no need to fill it with crap, you know?"
"Fair enough. Nice place though. Doesn't look like you really need the tavern to make a living though," he said with a sly grin.
She smiled in return. "It's kind of complicated. Let's just say not to judge too much by the house. The gym is this way."
"Gym?"
"Oh, you're going to love this," she said, then walked through the double doors leading out into the courtyard. The apple tree was there, as were a number of fruit shrubs and other vegetable plants.
Rather than the neat rows so many used, or the raised beds New Eden tended to be fond of, they seemed to be arranged in a way most pleasing to the eye. A mishmash of colors seeming to be more important than keeping beans all together.
Jason followed her through the garden, his eyes drinking in every sight. She led him through another set of double doors, into a room filled with more equipment than he ever thought he'd see again.
A weight bench, it's padding worn but otherwise in good shape sat along the far wall, an Olympic style bar resting in the cradle-like rack at the top. A rack nearby was mostly bars jutting out, each bar contained an assortment of plates in various weights as far as the bar would allow.
To one side, a speed back and heavy bag hung a few feet away. Like the bench, both were worn, but in fairly good repair. The heavy bag had a few spots were duct tape patches held the contents in, but they were small.
On the other side was a massive squat rack, something Jason had never seen outside of a gym. Next to that rack, something he remembered was called an EZ-curl bar sat nestled in a rack of its own. Another plate rack sat between the two, as well as a few other pieces of equipment Jason was less than familiar with.
Jason let out a low whistle.
"You like?"
"Nice. Looks like you've got a better set up than we had back in high school."
Tabby smiled. "That's funny, because that's where I got most of this."
He nodded and said, "I guess it didn't get looted too badly."
"Not really. The cafeteria was trashed, but the gym? Not a bit. Go figure, right?"
Jason laughed. "Silly looters. Worrying about food and not their abs."
"I know, right?"
She gestured toward a blank section of floor. Nearby, a jump rope hung on a hook. "I've got someone coming by to help spot you the bench just in case you get heavier than I can get solo, but a warm-up isn't going to hurt. I don't really figure you're going to need it, but…"
"I thought we were going to get rid of this," he said, patting the pooch he'd formed.
"We are. Best way to do that is build muscle. Well, that and diet. You do that, and your body starts burning more fuel. Maybe not such a good thing right after the nukes, but now? For what you're wanting? It's a very good thing when you watch the diet, and since you eat in my tavern, I've got that covered."
"Can't say that I've ever been good at putting on muscle. I was the skinny kid in high school. Then started putting on weight right after Rick was born."
She nodded knowingly. "Metabolism changes as you get older. You used to burn fuel fast, but then it slowed and you kept eating like you had been. Right?"
Jason nodded. "Pretty much."
"Then grab the rope and get hopping."
Jason did as ordered. Or attempted to, at least. Over and over, he kept slipping up and catching the rope on his feet, but from time to time he'd his a bit of a rhythm and make a handful of jumps until his feet got in the way again.
A door opened somewhere in the building, but Jason couldn't tell where. All he could tell was that Tabby wasn't alarmed, so there was no reason he should be.
When a shape walked into the gym area, Jason turned his head to look. The man stood about six feet tall. He was shirtless, and it made Jason rather self-conscious, something he hadn't felt in a long, long time because of someone else. He was built like a Greek statue, all muscle put in place through hard effort and practical use. The newcomer's build putting Jason's mind to Declan somewhat. No malevolence, not of the attitude, but functional muscle just like the New Lord leader.
"Jason, I want you to meet Wallace Killian. He's an old friend of mine."
Jason nodded in greeting.
Killian smiled. "Nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."
He shook his head. "Don't believe most of it. All lies, I promise."
"Well, Tabby tells me otherwise, but fair enough," he said with a warm smile.
Jason returned it.
"Well," Tabby said, "I guess it's time to get busy. Hit the bench."
Jason groaned with a smile as he complied.
CHAPTER 10
Walker studied Grayson as he looked over his troops. Dog and pony bullshit, he thought. He fought the urge to say it out loud. This shit always annoyed him. Mike squatted down beside him.
"What's on your mind, boss?" Mike asked.
"This guy is pissing me off. He may know his shit, but damn. It's not like they're an army anymore."
"I've thought about letting the boys loose, let them try for some converts. Might make it easier to deal with Mister High-and-Mighty later."
Walker smiled. "I'm loving how you're thinking. Maybe take care of this asshole, then take an outfit of trained soldiers to go and chat with Declan about his attitude?"
Mike nodded. "He'd have to rethinking cutting you loose. Assuming you care if he rethinks it. At worst, it'll be enough to tear this 'Tennessee Valley Alliance' a new asshole. Maybe make us a little place like up in Kentucky. Only this time, we don't leave it behind for whoever else wants it."
"I'll think on it. Go ahead and give the boys the go ahead, but have them be subtle about it. Let's not rock the boat until we're ready to rock it."
"You got it," Mike said, his voice low as Jim Grayson approached.
"Well, Mister Dennings, what did you think of your first operation with my people?" Grayson asked, looking down at the seated man.
"Not too shabby. They know their trade, that's for sure," Walker replied, making sure to look as relaxed as possible.
"My understanding was that you did well yourself."
Walker shrugged. "Not my first rodeo, you know."
"You may have done things here or there, but not as part of an organized military force," Grayson replied.
He shrugged. "Sure as hell felt the same to me."
The Somerton man spun on his heel and stormed off.
"Well, boss," Mike said, smirking, "I don't think he likes you."
"Hell, I'm not in this for a popularity contest. He's going to show me some damn respect, or I'm going to feed him his own fucking liver."
Mike looked around at the Somerton men, along with the relatively few black vests visible. "Just a thought, but you might want to wait until the odds are a bit more in our favor."
"Don't worry. I'm not half as stupid as Declan seems to think I am."
** ** **
Jason collapsed on the bench. He'd already done his max there, pathetic though it had been. Now, he just needed somewhere to lay that wouldn't be too hard to get up from. His heart pounded in his chest, as if it were a prisoner trying to escape by busting out a wall. Sweat poured off him, a salty Niagra.
"Feel better?" Tabby asked.
Jason held up one finger until he could muster enough energy to speak. "I'm beginning to wish Rick had been a bit slower that night."
She laughed. "It's not that bad," she said, swatting at him with a towel.
"Maybe not in an hour. Right now? I'm going to disagree with ya on that one."
"Come on. I'll buy you breakfast."
Jason forced himself upright. "You talked me into it. Be advised though."
"Oh?" she asked, an skeptical eyebrow raised.
"Yeah. You might have to carry me the rest of the way."
She laughed. "You realize the tavern's only about twenty yards from the front door, right?"
"That's what I'm talking about.
That's a long way when your legs are in open rebellion."
"Oh, quit your whining and let's go," she said as she turned and walked out of the gym. As she walked through the double doors, she looked back over her shoulder and said, "Catch you later, Wallace."
The big man with close cropped hair nodded in acknowledgement.
Jason waved to the other man as he followed Tabby all the way to the tavern. She opened up the back door and walked in. He followed hesitantly.
Tabby apparently picked up on his tentativeness. "Come on. It's not like the boss will have a problem with it."
He smiled and proceeded with more confidence. He always felt weird going in the back door of a place, like he was sneaking in or something.
Donna, Tabby's head cook, chopped vegetables as he walked by. He waved a greeting, which she acknowledged with a smile and a nod.
Tabby lead him into the main dining room an pointed toward his usual bar stool. "Coffee?" she asked.
"You've got coffee?"
"Some instant stuff. That's it. I've got a source that found a bunch put up for long term storage. Not as good as beans, but I'll take what I can get, you know?"
He nodded and smiled. "Same here. I haven't had java in so long that I don't know that there's any reason to get picky."
She smiled and poured some hot water from a tea pot sitting on the bar into a cup filled with the instant coffee. A few quick stirs, and she handed up a cup. "No sugar, but I've got honey."
"Nah, this is great," he said, then blew on the cup. Once he felt he'd moved enough air over it, he took a sip of the bitter brown liquid. "Oh, that's good."
She laughed. "It's bad when instant coffee is gourmet stuff, isn't it?"
He shrugged. "Well, it could be worse too."
"Really?"
"Yeah," he said with a nod. "We're alive. Best we've been able to figure, only twenty nukes went off, so that's why we're not worse off. Lots of bad stuff happened, sure, but there's been some really great stuff too."
"I'll take your word for that."
"You don't have to. Ask Billy."
"Oh?"
Jason nodded again. "Billy wasn't exactly a country boy. Grew up in Dallas, Texas. Got a scholarship to play football at Auburn—which I try to forgive him for every day, I might add—then got drafted by the Falcons. He had money and all that. Everything he wanted. Then the nukes hit."
"Atlanta?"
"Flowery Branch, actually. That's how he survived. He was outside of the blast zone and the winds were blowing in the opposite direction."
"Lucky."
"Yeah, he was. But then the riots happened. They came to his neighborhood. He thought they were looking for food or whatever, but they didn't realize those people were going as hungry as everyone else. It's not like rich people stock months' worth of food just because they can. He was hungry, but he knew something ugly was coming so he ducked out."
"Smart too, sounds like."
Another nod. "Yeah, he is. Well, there he is, this rich pro football player, living on the streets, and it's getting cold. He's not really ready for it. Then, he meets up with this homeless guy. This guy Billy probably wouldn't have thought much about, maybe give him a few bucks and then move on, starts teaching mister big and bad football player how to survive."
It was Tabby's turn to nod. "I can see that."
"Yeah. Billy's convinced that that old homeless guy saved his life. So, it's not all bad. In every horror, there's bound to be profound examples of human kindness. Barbarism may look like the default for humanity, but barbarism doesn't mean dog eat dog either."
"Civilized men are more discourteous than savages because they know they can be impolite without having their skulls split, as a general thing."
Jason smiled. "Robert E. Howard. Nice."
She shrugged. "Big Conan fan. What can I say? Kind of impressed you recognized it though."
"I loved Conan too," he replied with a smile.
A long silence descended upon them, their eyes locked. It was like each waited for the other to make the next comment, but neither was sure what that should be.
Suddenly, Donna walked out of the kitchen. "Eggs, toast," she said, dropping two plates between them.
"Thanks, hun," Tabby said, reaching under the bar and pulled out a couple of forks. She looked at Jason and smiled, "Guess it's time to eat up?"
He nodded. "Sounds good."
** ** **
Jason sat at his desk. It may have been his first day back to work, but he was too wiped out from the workout at that point to do more than make sure his desk didn't move. Luckily, things had been slow inside the town, so he had time.
A knock on the door pulled his attention from his daydreams to the door. Rick stood just inside the door.
"Hey, you okay?" Rick asked.
"Workout with Tabby. Supposedly an assessment of where I'm at right now. I'm pretty sure it's punishment for something."
Rick laughed. "It's good for you. Besides, it's not like you're having to suffer through it in public like the Rangers."
"True."
"By the way, there's someone I want you to meet," he said, then motioned toward the door.
Before Jason could move, another man entered. He was thin and severe looking, with a dark gray shirt and black pants. Even the braces holding up those pants were part of the same color scheme. Draped over his arm was a dark brown coat.
"Dad," Rick said, "This is Malachi Kane. We brought him down here to try and help us track the Somerton crowd."
Jason stood and held out his hand. "A pleasure."
Malachi shook his hand. "Please, call me Mal. It's a pleasure, Mister Calvin."
"Jason, please. Hate being called Mister Calvin."
Mal nodded. "Sounds good to me."
"So, you think you can find them?"
The new man shrugged. "It depends on how smart they are. If they know we have trackers, it might be a bit harder, but only if they know what I'm looking for."
"If they know what you're looking for, they'll know how to not leave it for you to find?"
"Pretty much."
"Well, they're smart enough, but at least their former commander was arrogant as hell. He thought he was Grant, Patton, and Napoleon all rolled into one."
Mal nodded. "Understood, sir. I was one of riders at The Pass, so I heard a bit about Conklin."
"Really? Well then, I owe you a drink a little later."
He smiled. "I'll have to pass. I don't really drink."
"Ah, well, Tabby tends to get non-alcoholic drinks from time to time. A guy up north bottles it himself, and she sells them at the tavern. You game?"
"Now that I can do," he said, smiling a toothy grin.
"Good," Jason said.
"Well," Rick said, "I've got to get him checked in at the garrison, so we'll catch you later."
Jason nodded. "Good meeting you, Mal."
"Same here, sir."
He watched as the two men wandered off, forcing his exhausted muscles to move him around his desk and toward the door. The new man carried himself differently than most, as did Rick. Both walked with a swagger, like they knew deep in their core that no one would dare cross them. Yet, at the same time, both had a compassion in their eyes that told how much it would take to cross that line.
Jason had seen it before. Jess, God rest her soul, said Jason had it too, though he'd always doubted it. No, his father and his friends seemed to be cut from a similar cloth, now that he thought about it.
In the distance, Simon approached. His old friend seemed worried as he strode forward.
"Simon," Jason said with a welcoming nod.
"Hey, you got a minute?"
Jason nodded and motioned inside. Simon stepped through the doorway, easing past Jason. Jason returned to his desk, slowly lowering himself to the welcome rest of his chair.
Simon sat without prompting. "We've got a problem."
"When do we not?" Jason quipped.
"The Grand Council."
Jason let the three words hang in the air, waiting for some explanation. After a few moments, he gestured for Simon to continue, making no effort to hide the confusion from his face.
"We've got Somerton trained men running around, shooting up buses, burning homes, and now they hit a trader."
"Who?" Jason asked. "When?"
"We just got the word. Old Joe's caravan got hit on his way between here and Littleton."
Jason cursed under his breath.
"Then, to make it worse," Simon continued, "the Grand Council is saying we don't have the authority to raise the militia."
"Since when?" Jason asked. "That was supposed to be preserved in the constitution."
"Yeah, but they pulled a legal trick a few months back. They prevent local communities from paying the militia in one law, then pass a law that the militia can't be mobilized without an agreement for pay already being in place."
"So, you can call it up, but because you can't pay it, you can't call it up," Jason said.
Simon nodded. "Yeah."
Jason shook his head slowly. What the hell.
"Plus," Simon said, "They won't permit the Rangers to participate in a, and I quote, 'illegal paramilitary action against an unconfirmed enemy'. End quote."
Jason stared at the other man, then said, "Is it wrong that I almost wish she'd never formed the TVA?"
"I'm right there with you, actually. Then, to make matters worse, Norman Botham is rattling sabers."
"Over what?"
"Your job."
Jason laughed. Norman Botham was a weasel, though to say it aloud was to insult a small animal that deserved no such dispersions upon their character.
"He really thinks he can do it?" Jason asked.
Simon shrugged. "Honestly, he's arguing that you can't. He's using the attack on you to prove you can't cut it. His words."
"He's an old man doing good to not fall and bust a hip."
"He's not that old."
Jason smiled. "Close enough. Plus, he carries himself like he's a decade or two older than he is."
"Maybe. But, for better or worse, he's making some headway. People are actually listening."
He rolled his eyes. "You've got to be kidding me. They think he's physically able to do better?"
Bad Moon on the Rise (Soldiers of New Eden Book 3) Page 11
