“A crime this serious can only be met with a single response. Death.”
A cult member to Timothy’s right shouted: “Brother Larry, it was your job to protect the colony, and you failed.”
Another angry voice nearby spoke next. “How can you work us into the ground without food?”
Then someone else from the crowd: “What good are all these walls if we can’t eat?”
Larry’s hands flew up, palms out. “I’ve got half of you out hunting for food as we speak.”
“And why aren’t you out there with them?” a woman shouted. “We’ve never seen you lift a finger.”
A large man wearing a cowboy hat and leaning on a pick ax was next: “There’s a rumor going around you got your own stash of food. That true?”
Nikki saw Larry look directly at her, anger flashing in his eyes. She’d seen his private cupboard, although she hadn’t said a word of it to anyone.
“That’s a vicious lie, nothing more.”
A middle-aged woman with short greasy hair this time. “Maybe we need to give someone else a shot.”
“Make no mistake, people. I’ll find out who stole our precious resources and set this right. All I’m asking is for a little more time.”
There was a touch of fear in Larry’s voice, a tiny quaver, as though he was starting to lose control and wasn’t entirely sure how to get it back.
“A plan is currently in the works that will secure enough food for an entire year, maybe even longer.”
“More useless promises,” a man in a torn plaid shirt shouted.
That was enough for Larry, who turned and stormed off.
As far as Nikki was concerned, this was supposed to be a time to honor her mother’s memory, not an opportunity for political grandstanding and uttering death threats. No doubt, stealing the food was a crime, but folks here were starving, and hunger had a funny way of bringing out the worst in people. She remembered Sprucewood Elementary where hunger had driven a group of Wiper children to cannibalism.
But even as Larry stormed away from the angry crowd, Nikki could see a single face among them was smiling. And she couldn’t help but wonder what it was Timothy was so happy about.
Finn
“Herb,” the older-looking man in the orange jumpsuit said, holding a weathered hand out to Finn. The parts of his face not covered in a frosty-white beard looked about as creased as the man’s hands. Finn accepted the gesture and was about to introduce himself when the old man said, “You’re Finn, I know.”
Finn was checking his coveralls to see if his name had suddenly appeared over the breast pocket. It hadn’t.
“I haven’t survived this long on my good looks,” Herb said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
They were in a hollow, somewhere between the walls in a tiny alcove Herb must have carved out for himself.
“The cell I pulled you into wasn’t mine,” he explained. “Belonged to a man named Jesus. I shit you not. Mexican fellow who was as quiet as a toothless woman and smiled about as much. Stayed away from most of the gangs. That’s how it works in prison. A gang is a man’s ticket to mutual protection. Watching each other’s backs, you know.”
“That isn’t too different from how things are on the outside right now,” Finn told him. He went to stand and felt a sharp pain in his side.
“You just relax a minute. That big guy might have broken a rib.”
Finn explained to Herb how he’d been shot.
“Ah, that’ll do it, too,” he said, bursting into a phlegmy bout of laughter. “What was I talking about again?”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah, that’s right. ‘Cept, he didn’t pronounce it Geezuz. Way he said it sounded more like Hay-zeus.”
Finn smiled, thankful for Herb’s help and humor, but wishing he could get back to Foster and in particular Joanne. To make sure they were all right. He’d found information in the warden’s office he hadn’t expected. Finn had been searching for some more details on the crime he was accused of committing, and instead he discovered that Joanne was his wife. A pill he hadn’t entirely managed to swallow just yet.
“Don’t worry about your friends,” Herb said, noting the concern clouding Finn’s features. “They’ll be just fine, and once you’re able to get on your feet without feeling like you been shot all over again, then I’ll do my best to get you back to them. Here,” he said, handing Finn a cup of yellow water. The bucket at Herb’s feet looked just like the one they’d seen in the showers. Finn was too thirsty by this point to be picky and drank it all down in one long pull. It tasted like rust.
“I know it looks like hell, but it sure beats the pants offa dehydration.”
Finn handed back the cup and thanked him.
“Only thing Jesus wanted to do was bust outta Ely State, and he spent a long time chipping away at the wall under his bunk so he could do just that. Then one day, everybody loses their minds. I was in the showers at the time, saw guards and inmates rushing in together attacking people. Eight other men were with me. Three were killed outright. The rest of us escaped, but most of those were taken down over the next few days. And here I am, lone survivor. Maybe the last inmate from Ely State who didn’t lose his mind.” Herb looked long and hard at Finn. “You a religious man?”
The question threw him off balance for a moment. Wasn’t a question he’d really given much thought to lately, not when you were focused on just staying alive. But more than that, he couldn’t remember if at some point, before all of this, he had been.
“You don’t need to answer that. Man’s relationship with his maker is his own business. But I noticed something in people after the change happened. Was like a switch went off somewhere. The folks who had darkness in their hearts to start with, well that only got worse. Was like their inner demons, the real deep desires they kept tucked away so no one would see ‘em. The change only seemed to magnify that.”
“The evil became more evil.”
“There you go. See, you went and said it in nothing but a handful of words. Some of the inmates who were half decent – and trust me when I say there weren’t too many of those – well they were acting weird, too, but most of them were running away, trying to hide.”
Herb’s words were slowly sinking in. If there was truth to what he was saying, that the actions of those affected by The Shift wasn’t entirely random, then what did it say about him and about Joanne?
“What’s your story?” Finn asked. “What were you in for?”
Herb scooped up a cup full of yellow water and drank. “Lost my job in the fall of 1981 when the Reagan recession hit. Money stopped coming in, but the bills didn’t, not that they ever do. What’s a man supposed to say when he’s got kids to put through college and a wife who’s never needed to work her whole life? No one’s there to catch you when you fall. We’re all left to sink or swim by our own devices. It’s the greatest thing about this country and also the worst. Anyway, the only ones still making money in all that mess were the banks, and so I went into a few and asked if they’d be willing to share. Took my pistol along, too, in case some of them refused.”
“And did they ... refuse?”
“Those greedy bastards? ‘Course they did. And when they finally caught up with me, the district attorney decided to make an example out of me so no one else suffering like we were would be tempted to follow in my footsteps.” After a minute, Herb pointed the cup at Finn’s chest. “How’re those ribs doing?”
Finn tried to stand, and the pain this time wasn’t nearly as bad. The difference must have been visible on his face because Herb said: “Few hours with Herb beats an army of doctors, doesn’t it?”
Finn smiled and then broke into a laugh. “Now you’re pushing it.”
“A’right,” Herb said, getting to his feet, lifting the hard drive and tying it to Finn’s back. “Let’s see if we can’t get you to your people.”
Dana
It took some time following Larry’s well-meaning, but rather disappoi
nting, speech, before any of the colonists agreed to return to work. Lou, Tanner, and Ethan were doing their part, attempting to reassure the masses that everything was being done to find food. But platitudes are cheap, and it was only when one of the hunting teams returned with two deer they’d killed, that the grumbling began to fade.
Since Dana had learned of the theft, questioning everyone in New Jamestown for leads had taken precedent. Always at the back of her mind was the niggling question of whether there were a connection between the stolen food and the murder of Lou’s wife. Simon was next on her list of colonists to speak with, and when Dana found him heading back to the jail to watch over Bud, she asked if they could have a word. He agreed in the polite way he seemed to address everyone, and the two walked to the trailer that doubled as her office and New Jamestown’s police station.
When they got inside, Dana removed her gun belt and set it in the desk drawer. Simon sat across from her. As she lowered herself into the chair, she studied him briefly for any signs of stress without detecting any.
“I think you know why I’ve asked you here,” she said.
“Yes. I think it’s horrible what’s happened.”
Dana paused, waiting for him to elaborate. Lots of horrible things had happened lately.
“Stealing from those who have so little is what I mean,” he added.
He tripped over his words and for the first time seemed a touch nervous. Was the quiver in his voice simply the product of being questioned by an authority figure, or was there more to it than that?
“I didn’t have anything to do with what happened, if that’s what you’re thinking. There are a few of us Rainbowites who still think doing harm to another is an absolute last resort.”
“But you’d be willing to kill for the right reasons.”
Simon nodded, reluctantly. “I wouldn’t be guarding prisoners if I didn’t, but the situation would have to leave me no other choice.” He took in a deep breath. “Are you questioning my participation in the theft or my willingness to take a life?”
Dana glanced down at the names she’d already scratched off her list. “Maybe both. Where were you last night between 11 and 4 a.m.?”
“Sitting in the jailhouse, doing my job. I chatted with Bud briefly. Then he went to bed, and I read a book.”
“Chatted?” Her eyebrow arched. “What about?”
Simon smiled. “Same thing he always talks about. You.”
It suddenly felt 10 degrees warmer. A bead of sweat rolled down Dana’s cheek.
Who’s doing the sweating now?
“What book?” she asked changing the subject.
“Pardon me?”
“You said Bud was reading a book, which one?”
“Uh, Animal Farm by Orwell,” he said.
“What about outside? Did you hear anything unusual?”
Simon shook his head. “Nothing out of the ordinary. If you’re asking me if I know who did this or whether I’ve heard any names being tossed around, the answer is yes, and I won’t lie, one of those names is yours, Sheriff.”
Dana’s head snapped up so fast it left a creak in her neck.
“Not that I put much weight in it,” he amended rather quickly. “People are scared. And fear has a nasty habit of turning a bad situation downright dangerous. My father taught me that.”
“You miss him terribly, don’t you?”
“I think about him every day. About his final instructions to follow Brother Larry’s every command. Rainbowland was his life, and he would have wanted it to live on after him.” Simon began to stand up. “Was there anything else?”
“Just one thing.” She produced the cassette recorder and hit the play button. Simon listened to the coordinates being read in that slightly distorted voice. Then she flipped the tape and played the other side. “You recognize the person in that recording?”
“To be quite honest, when you first started playing it, I heard my father’s voice.”
“That’s what I thought, too.”
“But then you played the other side, and I knew I was wrong. That sounded more like my uncle.”
Dana swallowed hard. “Timothy?”
“Sure. He wasn’t always in the cult, you know. Took a while for my dad to convince him to quit his job and join us.”
“Really? What kinda work did he do?”
“Not sure, something in electronics, I believe. Worked for a big company that handled government contracts. I think it was called Tevatron.”
Larry
About an hour later, Larry called the newcomers from the ice cream truck back to the police trailer for the second part of the debriefing. Larry’s mood was decidedly glum when a knock came at the door. It was Dana and a cult member named Donavan
. The latter was well built for a former Rainbowite. His face chiselled with sharp features and eyes deep set and penetrating. He also was the first to become proficient with the most common rifle they’d found in the nearby farm houses, the AR-15, and for that reason, Larry had put him in charge of the colonial militia. A militia whose orders were simple: Keep the Wipers and any other aggressors outside the walls. And if there was one thing cult members did admirably, it was take orders. All they needed was continued assurances that this was how All Father had wanted things.
“You asked to see us?” Dana asked as she and Donavan entered.
“Yes, I was just getting to know our new guests.”
Russell and the others nodded hello.
“It’s come to my attention recently,” Larry began, “that the group of sub-human savages holed up at the Grand America Hotel have taken every last bit of canned food in the city and are sitting on a massive stockpile. More than enough to sustain everyone in New Jamestown as we begin to make a difficult transition from eating out of cans to living off the land.”
Russell agreed. “We watched for over a month as trucks came and went. A few at first and gradually more as Wipers were being taught how to drive and find weapons.”
“We’ve noticed a change in the Wipers as well,” Donavan added. “When they first attacked us, they used clubs and crude swords. Now, when they come in small groups, they shoot at the towers with rifles.”
Callahan clapped his hands. “Good thing for us they couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.”
“Not yet,” Larry amended. “But like everything else, it’s only a matter of time before that changes.”
“I see where you’re going with this,” Dana said. “You wanna attack the Wipers and take their food? Sounds to me like an easy way of getting a lot of innocent people killed.”
Now Lou chimed in from the rear. “Way I see it, we ain’t got a ton of options. Sitting back and hoping for the best won’t get us through the winter. And I ain’t saying this to save my own skin. Many of us have loved ones who are also starving.”
“I’m sorry, but attacking the Wipers is plain suicide,” Dana said, and suddenly the room exploded with arguments on both sides.
Larry called for silence. “No one’s saying we’re going to attack the Wipers. We’re only talking. But I need to know from the people who’ve been there how feasible it would be before I make a decision.” Larry looked at Russell, Holly, and Callahan. “This Alvarez character who leads them. What kind of person is he?”
Only Russell’s face showed any real emotion. But the streak of fear visible beneath the man’s hardened exterior spoke volumes.
“If I didn’t think there was a bit of good in every man, I’d be tempted to say he was pure evil.”
Russell described what he had seen the night they’d been captured, trying to steal some of the very food they were now discussing. How Alvarez had forced Carole into the arena and made her fight for their lives.
“And he kept his word?” Larry asked incredulously.
“Sure, he did,” Russell replied. “But not out of the kindness of his heart. He ordered his men to hunt us down as we fled, hoping we’d lead him back to the others.”
“So,
he’s smart and twisted,” Dana added, her eyes narrowing as though she were fitting together two seemingly disparate pieces of a puzzle. “Charming combination. I just hope he isn’t the same Alvarez I knew.”
“History’s full of twisted characters,” Lou added.
Russell shook his head in despair. “It sure is. You find me somewhere with a touch of ethnic cleansing, and I’ll show you an evil mind behind the whole thing.”
“Anyone building up resources and training men on that scale,” Callahan said, “has to be preparing for something big.”
“Damn right,” Lou shouted. “They attacked us once already, what’s to say they aren’t planning on finishing what they started?”
Larry was enjoying the pleasures of sitting back and allowing them to inch toward the solution all on their own. This Alvarez was apparently smart, but Larry was smarter.
“So, let’s get down to brass tacks,” Larry said, giving his knuckles a good crack and succeeding this time. “We need to know how many men he has, how they’re armed, and what kind of defenses we’re likely to encounter.”
Callahan was the first to step up. “I’m a sailor, not a grunt, but I do know a thing or two about combat. From what I saw, Alvarez’ men are using small arms. Handguns, shotguns, rifles. Stuff like that. Their tactical training was average to low. Very little discipline. Poor marksmanship. They sure do whoop and holler like Rebs in the Civil War, which can be intimidating, but it seems to me like this Alvarez is aiming to put as much lead on target as he can and hope he gets lucky. One thing I will give his men. They’re bloodthirsty and above all, fearless.”
“Fearless,” Dana said, “because they’re dumb as shit.”
Callahan laughed. ‘That may be true, but don’t underestimate them.”
“What about numbers?” Larry asked.
“A wild guess and that’s all it is, would be a few hundred at any given time. Also keep in mind, Alvarez probably keeps a few men stationed on the hotel roof as lookouts. Not to mention any pickets he’s got set up along the perimeter. Although judging from the few defensive positions I saw in the streets around the hotel, the guy’s confident to the point of arrogant.”
Primal Shift: Volume 2 (A Post Apocalyptic Thriller) Page 13
