"So, a pile of other Mormon decided to buy. Built some nice homes here too. Kept Warrington from going bankrupt until the hysteria died out."
"So, they're resistance now?" Rick asked.
Holliman nodded again. "Yeah, they've got their own persecution stories, and they're not interested in tyrants who could wipe them out with a stroke of his pen."
Jason nodded. "Can't say I blame them there."
As they reached the gate, two men in gillie suits stood up.
"Al," one of the men said with a nod.
Holliman greeted the two men by name, then turned toward Jason and Rick. "Jason and Rick Calvin, from New Eden."
The two men nodded a greeting. Friendly bunch, Jason thought, but said nothing. Instead, he smiled and nodded back.
Holliman led them through the iron gates and down the street. As they walked, weapons in hand, kids played in the street. Yards, once a point of pride for so many people in subdivisions like this, were now turned over toward food production. Everywhere Jason looked, vegetable plants as well as fruit bearing trees and bushes had taken the place of roses and holly.
As they got about half way around the loop, as far from the gate as they could get, a tall, lean man met them.
"Jack," Holliman said. "These are the folks I told you about."
Jack looked Rick and Jason up and down, as if sizing them up. Based on the look on the other man's face, Jason figured he wasn't particularly impressed.
"You the guy behind that half-assed attack on Somerton?"
Jason took a deep breath. "Not exactly."
"What does 'not exactly' mean?"
"It means not exactly. I wasn't calling the shots, but I probably should have done more to stop it."
Jack rolled his eyes. "Great. This is what you bring us, Al? Really?"
Holliman held up his hands defensively. "Wait a minute. You know the story about that guy down in Georgia? Went through a whole heap of guys to get his wife?"
Jack nodded.
The Somerton man nodded toward Jason. "That's the man."
The tall man's eyebrow raised in surprise. "That so."
Jason nodded, surprised. How far had that damn story gotten? "Yeah, but I've heard it got blown out of proportion in the telling, so don't get your hopes up. Ain't like I'm looking to take out Conklin's people all by my lonesome."
The other man held out his hand. "Wouldn't dream of it. Names Jack Lassiter. Good to meet you, Mr. Calvin."
Jason took his hand. "Might as well call me Jason. I'm not big on the whole 'mister' thing."
Holliman laughed. "Only person I've ever heard call him 'Mr. Calvin' was Conklin."
He shrugged. "Bastard pissed me off."
Jack smiled. "You know, I think I like your style just fine."
** ** **
Jason wasn't sure he was still alive. I mean, he didn't remember dying, but he figured he must have died. Air conditioning sure felt an awful lot like Heaven to him.
He closed his eyes and let the cool air wash over him, a tidal wave of simple pleasure he'd thought he would never feel again.
"Nice, isn't it?" Holliman asked.
Jason nodded, his eyes still closed out of fear that opening them would take the magical coolness away.
"Most of Somerton has power. Lots of places do, really. Surprised you guys don't in New Eden."
He shrugged. "Can't say we do. Didn't have it in North Georgia either. Most of the power plants went offline after the war, didn't they?"
"Not really. Some did, but a lot of folks who worked at the plants kept them going. Manufactured parts from scratch, whatever they could. After all, their families were supported by the power too."
"The EMP?" Jason asked, remembering how the electromagnetic pulse had fried his own car, making it necessary to walk home.
"Worse in some places than others," Holliman said. "For better or worse though, there are a lot fewer customers now, so the plants that did get fragged aren't needed so much now."
Made sense to Jason. "Wonder if there's anywhere in the valley with power," he said as he opened his eyes, now mostly convinced the cool air wouldn't disappear now that he could see the world around him."
Holliman shrugged. "No clue, but worth looking into."
"Okay, so what are we doing here? I mean, as awesome as AC is again, there has to be a better reason to stop by."
Holliman nodded. "Yeah, there is. Jack is part of the resistance. A big part. These guys are better supplied than most of the folks were after the war. Most had a year or so of food, but scavenged just like everyone else, so they kept themselves better fed."
"Which, let me guess? Made them more effective at it."
Holliman nodded. "They shared what they got, but it gave them a certain standing with most folks. When Conklin came in, he took the region, but knew he couldn't hold it if he took Jack out, so he didn't."
"I take it Jack knows that's a temporary thing?"
The resistance member nodded. "That's why he's kind of a big deal with the resistance."
Lassiter walked into the room, looking somewhat amused at the sight of Jason beneath the air conditioner vent. "Am I interrupting anything?"
Jason smiled. "Just the greatest thing I've ever experienced besides my kids being born."
The other man nodded with a wry grin. "Please have a seat," he said, motioning toward a rather comfortable looking leather chair. "Can I get you anything? Water, soda?"
"You guys have soda? I thought Mormons didn't do soft drinks?"
"Not necessarily. Coffee and tea are off limits, but soft drinks are more of a gray area. Most folks don't seem to realize it."
"Interesting." He'd studied Mormonism more than most non-Mormons, but this was new to him. Not really important either.
Jason took a seat, looking over as the other man took a seat next to him. "Jason, like I said, I like your style. However, I can't say that I trust you," Lassiter began.
"Tell me how you really feel," Jason said with a wry grin of his own.
"It's nothing personal, but your boys got their asses kicked. You wouldn't be the first people to pretend to want to attack while really just trying to get intel for Conklin to buy their way off of his list."
Jason nodded. "Fair enough. Did I mention the son of a bitch killed my wife?"
Lassiter closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and look Jason in the eye. "I'm sorry to hear that. Unfortunately, that's not enough of a reason for me to trust you. I'm sorry for that too."
Well. This is going to shit quick, fast, and in a hurry. Despite the cool air, Jason rolled up his sleeves, digging in for a long discussion. Suddenly, he felt a hand grasp his right arm and pull. The tattoo.
"What is this?"
Crap. This doesn't sound good. Just what I need, more of this conspiracy theory shit. "Yes, I'm a Freemason. No, we're not responsible for the war."
"I know we're not."
Jason breathed a sigh of relief, then caught as he realized exactly what Lassiter said. "Wait. 'We?'"
Jack Lassiter began a series of odd, cryptic sounding questions. Jason answered equally cryptic to those who didn't know. Signs and handshakes, phrases that made little sense to most, all filling him with growing confidence.
When they'd finished, Lassiter smiled deeply. "I wanted to trust you. Needed a reason. That tattoo on your arm? Gave me what I wanted."
Jason smiled. "I'm glad, because I've got to have the help."
Lassiter nodded. "Your people."
Nodding, Jason said, "Among other things. But I can't do it alone. Officially, I'm not even here. I'm off the reservation, so to speak."
"The other man with you?"
"That's my oldest. My son. He wants some payback for his mother."
"Seems young."
Jason nodded. "He is, but he's held his own against Conklin's boys before."
"He'll do what needs to be done?"
Jason laughed. "The biggest problem won't be him freezing up. Might just be h
olding him back."
** ** **
"We've got you set up. Resistance people will be waiting for you," Lassiter said as they lined up just inside the iron gate.
Jason grunted. "If we survive."
"Yeah, well, there's always that."
"So," Rick said, "it's not like we couldn’t just die in our sleep or anything."
"Your son makes a valid point," Lassiter said.
Jason nodded. "You're sure they don't watch you guys?"
Lassiter nodded. "Yep. We check periodically. Random intervals. Never found anything."
Nodding, Jason said, "Alrighty then. I guess we need to get a move on."
Lassiter held out his hand. "Brother Jason. It's been a pleasure. I hope we can catch up some other time when you're not off to kill and maim my fellow Republic of Somerton citizens," he said with a smile.
Jason returned it. "I make no promises, but it would be nice."
"We ready?" Holliman interjected. Jason was surprised how antsy the other man was.
He nodded. "Yep. Let's get moving."
"Yep. Countries just don't overthrow themselves you know," Rick said, smiling. Jason raised his kid to be an optimist.
With final goodbyes made, the three men headed down the road. Rick and Jason had hidden their rifles in their packs, per Holliman's suggestion. Apparently, Conklin didn't trust his own people with guns, so carrying rifles without a uniform would have stuck out like a sore thumb. However, they were able to secure pistols beneath their clothes. They weren't idiots, after all. Luckily, the packs were big enough, and the rifles were short carbines.
"How much longer?" Jason asked. They'd been walking for hours and he had no idea where he really was.
"About a day or so. We should hit it sometime tomorrow morning," Holliman said.
Rick tugged on his pack straps, testing the tightness. "You kind of seemed in a hurry to get back. You missing out on something?"
Holliman smiled nervously. "Just be glad to be home. Even if Conklin's an ass, it's still home, you know?"
Jason nodded. "You realize you're not going to be able to take a night out on the town or anything, right?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I know. I'm really pretty cool with just hanging out with my roommate for few days."
"Out of sight?"
"Yep."
"These resistance folks of yours. How many are we looking at?"
Holliman shrugged. "Not really sure. We're mostly in a cell structure. I knew Jack and a few others from something we'd done a couple of years ago, but that's kind of unusual. We could have thousands. Might only have a dozen or so."
"Wow, Al, you're filling me with unspeakable confidence," Rick said, deadpan but still somehow dripping with sarcasm.
He laughed. "Don't get me wrong. I mean, I don't know how many, but I seriously doubt Jack would have passed the word unless he figured we could actually pull it off with the numbers there."
"So he knows?" Jason asked.
Holliman hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. One of the few who does, but yeah."
"That means bad things for him if we get caught," Jason said.
He shrugged. "Maybe, but I don't plan on talking."
"You plan on being dead?"
Holliman stopped dead in his tracks, looking at Jason as if an appendage and sprung out of his forehead. "What the hell kind of question is that?"
Jason stopped and faced him. "It's a fair one. Look, I made a living getting people to talk to me. One of the people who talked to me was a former prisoner of war. The truth is, everyone talks eventually. You don't want to, and the longer you hold out, the more you didn't want to, but everyone talks. It's even more true if you have an asshole like Conklin who won't think of hurting other people."
He seemed to consider it for a moment, the nodded. "I guess. I'm damn sure not going to make it easy for them though."
Jason smiled. "Kind of my plan too."
Rick walked, seemingly lost in his own world. Something about his body language made Jason think that his son had no intention of going at all.
** ** **
Conklin liked it here. The dark of the basement felt more like home as he looked down on the bruised and bloody Megan Hernandez.
She was scared. He drank it in like a vampire, basking in it. Conklin knew what kind of reputation he had, a reputation for getting off on hurting women, but it was really more than that. He felt powerful.
He knew there were multiple kinds of power, and he enjoyed all of them he could get. He had the ability to have people killed with a snap of his fingers, intoxicating all on its own. He had the ability to demand things from women who didn't really want to give them, which was something else entirely. Most importantly, he enjoyed taking a stuck up bitch like this and making her scream.
"Bet you wish you'd have been nicer to me, don't you?"
Megan sobbed. For him, that was as good as any yes ever could be. The truth was, he preferred it if they weren't bitches to start with. The fun was in making them regret it.
A knock on the door drew his attention. He turned and walked to the door, opening it just a crack.
Outside, Ramirez stood. "Yeah?" he asked as he stepped through the door, closing it behind him.
"We've got a problem, sir. The OP we placed outside of that old, crazy guy's place went missing."
Conklin cursed under his breath. "Alright, meet me in my office in twenty minutes. I want everything we know about this, got it?"
Ramirez nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Good. Now get lost. I've got business to finish up down here."
The younger man nodded, spun on his heels, and walked away.
Conklin walked back into the room and closed the door, the audible click of the lock echoing eerily throughout the chamber.
"Now," he said as he turned and smiled wolfishly, "where were we?"
** ** **
Ramirez waited in Conklin's office. The walls filled with awards. They were all meaningless, even the ones Ramirez understood. No one cared either way, these day. No one except Conklin, anyways. Inside, he thanked God that he'd been given a bit of a reprieve from having to meet his boss immediately after seeing what he was doing to the Hernandez woman.
He considered himself a hard enough man. He'd personally killed plenty of folks and committed plenty of atrocities of his own. Somehow, though, Conklin's proclivities bothered him so much more than anything else.
To make matters worse, Ramirez knew that the woman was married. He'd pulled her and her son out of the church himself, putting the gun to the kid's head to make the husband come along quietly. He didn't have a clue why it mattered that she was married, but it did. He figured it might have had something to do with his Catholic upbringing, but that was so long ago, he didn't really know any longer. It's not like this was the only iron he had in the fire.
His reflecting ended abruptly as the office door banged open. Conklin stomped into the room, not saying a word, and plopped down on the other side of the table.
"Report," he barked.
Ramirez nodded and said, "A relief team left out several days ago on horse to the observation post outside of the old man's place. When they got there, our guys were gone. Some indication of blood, though how old it was, they couldn't tell."
Conklin said nothing for a moment. "Any word on the OP watching New Eden?"
"Yes, sir. They radioed in via relay earlier today. They accepted relief and were returning home."
"No word on any troop movements?"
"Negative, sir. They did report that no signs of Calvin anywhere within the town, however."
"HumInt?"
"Rumor has it that he headed south to visit his mother-in-law outside of where Rome, Georgia used to be. Seems we got his wife in the shelling."
"Too bad the bastard hadn't been home at the time," Conklin muttered. In a more casual tone, he asked, "Any confirmation on that?"
"Negative, sir. None at all."
Conklin was silent once ag
ain. The silences made Ramirez nervous. He'd been there too many times when the silence meant hell on Earth was about to be brought against someone who'd done nothing wrong. Duty, however, was duty.
"Alright, there's a possibility he's coming here instead. Agreed?"
The question took Ramirez back. Conklin didn't usually ask for input unless it was in raw information. "Um…yes, sir. It's possible. If so, he's most likely only got his son with him. From what we understand, he's just a kid though."
Conklin smiled. The feral nature of that grin chilled Ramirez, though he'd had plenty of practice hiding any shivers. "He probably thinks he's being clever."
Ramirez watched as his commander stood and paced. "Oh, yeah. Finally. Someone who's seen the elephant in my presence, and still has the balls to bring the fight to me. I've been waiting for this," the man muttered. Ramirez did the best he could to interpret it, but sometimes, it was just better to ignore your boss than to accept that he was nuts.
Finally, the man stopped. "Put the city on heightened alert. If he's coming, I'd hate not to put on a spread for our guest of honor."
Ramirez had heard plenty about Jason Calvin. All indications were that the man was a true survivor. At this moment, he actually felt pity for the man.
What's coming to him is going to hurt. Better him than me though, you know?
Chapter 13
Their contact was late. They had pushed through the day, humping hard to make sure they were at the rendezvous point on time. They'd done it, actually arriving a couple of hours early.
Now, they hid in the trees on an old divided highway median. Since the war, the growth and taken over, providing plenty of concealment.
What it was wasn't comfortable.
"When the hell is this guy supposed to be here?" Rick asked with the typical patience seventeen year olds have been known for throughout the centuries.
Holliman shrugged. "Should be here."
"Yeah, I kind of noticed that," the younger man spat back.
"Easy," Jason said as he reclined against a log. "Bitching won't get them here any faster."
Bloody Eden (Soldiers of New Eden Book 2) Page 12
