by Patten, Sean
She didn’t need to say anything else to make it clear she wasn’t being serious in the slightest.
“Okay,” I said. “We park this thing, get through the wastelands, and speak to Mason. You sure he’s going to meet with you?”
“No reason why he wouldn’t,” said Steve. “As far as he knows, he just left me in Vegas. If anything, he owes me and the rest of the troops an explanation for that bullshit.”
“What if he doesn’t take the conversation well?” asked Kelly. “What if…”
“Then we take him out of power,” I cut in.
The others went quiet at that, and the rest of the drive was in silence, the three of us preparing for the events ahead. Part of me was still sick at the idea of going back to the camp, knowing that all it’d take would be for Mason to decide that we were traitors to the cause.
But the more I considered the matter, the more I knew that we had to see this through.
Soon after making the turnoff, Steve drove us to the small maintenance complex. To all our relief, the place was empty. Steve pulled in front of the garage and Kelly and I got out to open the sliding door.
Once the car was parked and the door pulled back down, we were off. We started towards the camp, and after an hour or so of walking we spotted the outermost rings of the wastelands. The moon was high, and visibility was limited.
Without saying a word, the three of us stopped, as if simultaneously understanding just how much was at stake.
But the look we shared made one thing more than certain—we were ready.
Chapter 25
The smell hit us like a damn train the moment we crossed over the threshold of tents into the wastelands.
“Jesus,” said Steve. “This place is a nightmare.”
That was putting it lightly. The outer rings of the wastelands were a scene of deprivation and squalor like nothing I’d ever seen before. Men and women and families were huddled together in dirty clothes, trash all around them. A few ditches had been dug here and there for a method of human waste disposal that was only slightly more sanitary than the alternative. Cries sounded out here and there, and as we passed every face had the same vacant expression, the hope gone out of their eyes as if they were simply waiting for the end.
“How can people be living like this?” Kelly asked lowly. “This is…”
She trailed off, obviously at a loss for words.
“They don’t have any other options,” I said. “It’s either stay here, or take their chances out in Vegas and the desert.”
Truly, I couldn’t think of a worse place to be stranded during a catastrophe. If we had been stuck in LA, for example, the city might’ve been a disaster zone but at least people could take their chances in the surrounding area. The weather was better, and a person with a little survival sense could likely make do for a time.
Vegas was another story altogether. It was hot, it was dry, and it was isolated. More than that, it was dependent on the shipping infrastructure of the United States to stay alive. Now that those lifelines had been cut, it was only a matter of time before the city sank into the desert.
And likely took all these people down with it.
What Mason—or Lambert or Donahue before him—had planned was beyond me. There was water, sure, but the desert was hardly the type of place to be able to support a population of this size. Maybe in time some agriculture could be set up to provide for a downsized number of people, but…
I caught myself. “Downsized number”—it struck me as the kid of euphemism that Mason would use. No, what would happen was going to be far worse than that bland phrasing suggesting. There had to be well over a hundred thousand people here, just in the wastelands. Unless something happened, some kind of miracle, most would be dead of starvation, or worse, before the month was over.
And that’s assuming that whatever Mason had planned for these people didn’t do the job first.
Steve stopped in his tracks, like he’d put his boot in something.
“Please,” came a voice over the rest of the sounds of agony around us. “Officer, please.”
It didn’t take me long to see the source of the noise. A woman, her clothes caked with sweat and grime and whatever else, was huddled next to Steve, her hand on his pant leg.
“Officer.” She must’ve seen the uniforms and thought that we’d come to help. Poor woman.
Steve turned to me, as if hoping for some kind of guidance on the situation.
“Justin,” said Kelly. “We have to do something.”
At first I felt cold. This was one woman among tens of thousands, and any help that we gave her would only relieve her suffering temporarily.
But I couldn’t tell her no, and when I saw past her to the two small children huddled behind her, two little girls who couldn’t have been older than five, I knew I had to do something.
I reached in my pocket and took out the pair of energy bars that had been given to me with my uniform. Quickly, so that none of the other refugees around could see what I was doing, I passed them to the woman. She took them, the look on her face as confused and shocked as if I’d just handed her a pile of diamonds. Then her eyes went wide and she looked up at me.
“Thank y—”
I put my finger to my mouth, giving the signal to stay silent. Thankfully, she was aware enough to understand. Without hesitating for a moment, she unwrapped the bars and handed one to each of her girls, saving nothing for herself. The children ate quickly, hungrily, their big eyes moving from me to Steve to Kelly. The bars were gone almost instantly.
I dropped down to the woman.
“Listen,” I said. “We’ve been out of the city since earlier today. What’s the scene like at camp?”
I hated to do a trade of food for information, but I needed to see if there was anything I could learn about how things had changed since Mason had taken charge.
“It’s…it’s awful,” the woman said, her voice cracking with thirst. “The man in charge, that new man, he stopped people from coming into the camp past the fence. And he’s shooting anyone who tries.”
“Oh my God,” Kelly murmured.
“And it’s more than that,” the woman said. “Anyone who does anything bad, anyone who steals food or gets into a fight or is suspected of being in one of the gangs…he’s telling his soldiers to take them away. I don’t know where they’re going, but people are saying he’s just taking them to the lake and shooting them without a trial or anything.”
It was a rumor, sure, but it sure as hell sounded like what Mason had mentioned before about dealing with troublemakers. Considering how he’d dealt with Donahue and his men, it didn’t surprise me in the slightest.
“Can’t be,” said Steve. “He’s probably just throwing them in the brig.”
“Wherever they’re going, they’re not coming back,” the woman said. “And we haven’t gotten any supplies today—people are starting to wonder if they’re finally cutting off the wastelands. You three are soldiers; you have to know something about that!”
The three of us shared a look.
“Sorry,” I said. “Like I told you, we just got back from the city. But I’m sure they wouldn’t do that.”
We needed to get going.
“Just stay safe,” I said to the woman. “And don’t let your kids out of your sight.”
She nodded as we backed away, and I could feel her eyes on me as we left.
“This is terrible,” said Kelly. “They’re killing people in cold blood—just like what we saw with Donahue.”
“Do I need to remind you guys what ‘rumors’ are?” asked Steve. “People are scared and desperate and they’re imagining the worst. I’m going to need more proof than just what one person has to say before I write Mason off.”
I shot my brother a frustrated glare.
“What would be good enough?” I asked. “What possible explanation could he have for what he’s done? Steve, if he’s really cutting off food and water to the wastelands then
that’s sentencing tens of thousands of people to death!”
“But we don’t know that’s what he’s doing, okay? Just…just let me get to him. Let me hear what he has to say.”
Kelly and I regarded one another, both of us knowing that trying to talk Steve out of what he had planned was as pointless as endeavor as they came.
The three of us continued on, passing more scenes of squalor and misery. “Wastelands” wasn’t even close to describing what I saw. “Hell on earth” would’ve been far more fitting.
I spotted a few rough-looking men huddled in small groups, all of them giving us the same hard stare as we passed. I couldn’t put into words how thankful I was to be armed. It was just a pistol, but between that and the uniform it seemed to be enough to keep the worst element of the wastelands at bay.
It took some time, but we eventually reached the western entrance to Camp Esperanza.
And it was loaded for bear. Lambert had kept the entrances manned, of course, but what Mason had done made them look like a welcome committee. A dozen guards were posted at the entrance, all of them armed with rifles. A Humvee was posted just behind, a soldier stationed at the machine gun mounted on back.
A half-ring of refugees stood on the wasteland side of the entrance, all of them seeming to be waiting for something. I considered that they wanted to be the first ones to be given any supplies that were sent over. For all I knew, they could be waiting for nothing.
The eyes of every soldier their locked onto Kelly, Steve and me as we approached. One of them, who looked to be the officer in charge, stepped up from the mass of troops and made his way to us.
“State your business,” he barked.
“We’re with the civilian soldiers,” I said. “At least, she and I am.”
“We were with Mason on the recon op into Vegas,” Steve explained. “We were separated from the rest of the squad and—”
“General Mason,” the soldier said, placing emphasis on the rank.
He regarded us with steely eyes, and for a moment I worried that Mason knew everything, that he’d seen us at the scene of the crime and had ordered these men to shoot to kill.
“I recognize them,” said one of the lower-ranking troops in back. “General Mason was looking for them for debriefing.”
Relief washed over me. It looked like we were at least going to get into the camp before the general, or whatever the hell he was, took us out of the picture. And my gut told me there was a good chance that’s what he had in mind.
“Let them in,” said the CO. “And bring them right to the general.”
The troops didn’t waste a second before forming up around us and taking us through the entrance.
Whatever was going to happen, it was going to happen soon.
Chapter 26
The soldiers took us directly to Mason’s command tent. There, a handful of troops awaited us, their expressions so steely and hard that I couldn’t tell what their reactions were to seeing us.
A quick scan of the men’s faces revealed that more than a few of them had been present at Donahue’s murder. All it would take was for one of them to have seen me and Kelly there to have this whole plan go south in a hurry.
“They were with the other team,” said the CO who’d brought us there. “And they’re ready to let Mason know what they found.”
The highest-ranking soldier stepped up, gave us a look over, and stood firm.
“Their guns,” he said. “Take them.”
“What?” I asked. “Why the hell do you need our guns?”
The expression on the soldier’s face suggested he didn’t care to be spoken to in that way.
“General’s orders are that any soldiers outside of his support staff be disarmed before entering the command tent,” said the soldiers.
“But,” said Steve. “I was…”
He trailed off. I could sense that he wanted to point out that he’d been part of the crew who’d actually pulled off the coup. But the soldiers had to know it, and it didn’t matter to them. And in that moment, Steve seemed to realize that he wasn’t as high in Mason’s esteem as he’d hoped he was.
“Come on,” I muttered. “Let’s just do this.”
I took my pistol out of my holster and handed it over to the nearest guard, Steve doing the same with his rifle.
“Okay,” said the commanding officer. “Go on in.”
Steve glanced over at me, his expression suggesting that he felt less comfortable about this situation than he had before. But that didn’t matter—we’d passed the point of return. No going back.
The soldiers spread apart and we entered the command tent.
It looked different, that was for damn sure.
The place was spotless. Every last trace of Lambert’s “controlled chaos” had been removed. The shelves were neat and orderly, the floor free of trash. Only a small stack of papers, a few pens and, surprisingly, Lambert’s grenade were on top of the desk.
And seated behind it, his back straight and his eyes on us, was Mason.
Steve, Kelly and I stepped into the middle of the room, standing three abreast.
No one said anything, and I worried that if I were to open my mouth, the first thing out would be an accusation of murder. Standing there, Mason in front of me, all I could think about were the expressions on Lambert’s face as he was led from the camp, and that of Donahue as Mason raised the gun to execute him. Rage boiled inside of me.
Mason stood up, relief appearing on his face.
“There you are,” he said. “God, it’s good to see you three.”
He rose and stepped around the desk until he was in front of it. Once there, he looked us up and down, as if inspecting for damage.
“Well,” he said. “Tell me what you found.”
“Nothing to report, sir,” said Steve. “We were cut off from the rest of the squad during a firefight, and were unable to reconnect with them.”
Mason nodded. “It’s a nightmare in that city. Total chaos. I only wish that I had the manpower to do more.”
He brought in a breath through his nose and shook his head. Then he glanced up at me.
“Men like you, Justin,” he said. “And women like you, Kelly. You’re what I need. Once I’ve solidified my command one of the first orders of business will be to find more troops among the refugees. But we have more pressing matters to attend to at the moment.”
“The rest of the men,” said Steve. “Did they make it back, sir?”
A brief expression of sadness flashed on Mason’s face.
“Some,” he said vaguely. “It’s a real tragedy. The gang you encountered turned out to be merely the scouting wing of a larger operation. They fled the fight, came back with more men, and ambushed the squad.”
“Oh my God,” Kelly breathed.
“Only a few made it back,” Mason said. “God, what a waste.”
Mason making a show of lives being wasted was enough to make my stomach turn. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“But you three seemed have been resourceful enough to get back to me. Which is good—I’ve got some big plans in mind for you all.”
“Donahue,” I said.
The name seemed to just drop out of my mouth.
Mason fixed his eyes on mine, staring at me for several long seconds.
“Yes?” he asked. “What about him?”
“Where is he?” I asked. “What did you learn?”
Mason’s eyes narrowed further.
“If I didn’t know better,” he said. “I would think that you were demanding information.”
“Just…just would like to be in the know,” I said.
Another long look, and I couldn’t tell if he got that I knew more than I did, of if he was just beginning to suspect it. Either way, I was having a harder and harder time holding my tongue.
“We met,” said Mason. “But Donahue was stubborn. I was straight with him about my methods, but he insisted on being more…by the book about it. We r
eached something of an impasse, and I decided that he needed a little time to cool his head before we met again.”
Lies. All of them.
“But,” Mason went on. “I’m convinced that he’ll eventually come around. Once Donahue sees what kind of operation I’m running here, how much better Esperanza is operating under my command, I’m sure he’ll realize that his fears were misplaced.”
It was all I could take. I knew it might’ve been the mistake of my life, but I wasn’t about to stand by and be lied to in such a way.
“You killed him.”
The three words sucked every last bit of air out of the room. Kelly and Steve turned to me, their eyes wide with shock.
“What did you say?” Mason asked.
“Cut the shit,” I said. “You shot Donahue. I was there. He wasn’t on board with your plan of sending Lambert off into the desert and you killed him for it. Him and his men, shot in cold blood. And now you’re looking us in the eye and telling us you had some kind of disagreement. Spare me the bullshit.”
“Justin…” Steve said, his voice a warning.
But I kept my eyes locked onto Mason, and he did the same. Several long moments passed.
“You saw it, then,” he said.
“Better late than never with the truth, huh?” I asked.
“Sir,” said Steve. “It’s…true?”
Mason nodded.
“It’s true,” he said. “But you’re wrong to think it was done in cold blood. I did what I did to protect the lives of every man, woman and child in Esperanza. Donahue was a fool, like Lambert—always had been. But he hadn’t been here, he didn’t know what kind of situation we were in. All he cared about was preserving the chain of command as he imagined it should be, and damn the consequences.”
“Why did you do it?” asked Steve. “Why kill him and his men?”
“It was all I could do,” Mason said. “If Donahue had taken me into custody, it would’ve sent the camp into chaos. Just imagine what would happen here if two commanding officers were removed in such a short period of time? Supply distribution would be disrupted, troops would mutiny, and thousands would die.”
