Larry glanced up at them. “They say that music sooths the mind and boosts the I.Q.” His gaze turned to Nikki. “Do you know what this is?” he asked holding the instrument in the air.
“A fiddle,” she replied, not entirely sure if this was a trick question.
He laughed. “A fiddle is something you don’t mind spilling beer on. This beautiful lady here is a violin.”
“It’s nice,” Aiden said.
“Only six of these were ever made,” Larry told them. “And this is the sole survivor. There may be similar masterpieces housed in some dusty museum somewhere, but with no one to take care of them, they’ll slowly begin to rot and die.”
Nikki wasn’t sure what Larry was talking about, but she knew it had nothing to do with violins.
“Before The Shift, men like me only gazed upon art like this through bulletproof glass. Back in those days, guns had the distinction of being called the great equalizers. Didn’t matter how big you were or what you had in your pants so long as your aim was straight and true. I submit that The Shift is the real equalizer for a world that was so desperately out of balance. The old wicked ways have been torn to shreds, and now it’s up to us to rebuild it.”
“You make The Shift sound wonderful,” Nikki said with disgust. “If it had never happened, my parents would both still be alive.”
Larry made a series of quick, dismissive gestures with his hands. “One must break a few eggs to make an omelette, no? You know how that old chestnut goes, I’m sure. Shit has a habit of getting sloppy when you’re changing the world.”
Nikki felt the blood rising up her neck and into her face.
Larry didn’t seem to notice, or care. He stood and laid the violin on his desk, circling around toward them. “Both of you kids have a gift.” He stopped less than a foot away and laid a hand on each of their shoulders, his eyes, depthless sapphires that swayed back and forth in the dim light, seemed to stare right through them.
To Nikki, those eyes were far deeper than they’d been the time she and Larry had spoken in his office. Back then, she’d seen a father abusing a son for being weak. But now, much of that was buried over by something else, something darker.
The image she saw in Larry’s eyes was a man in a purple robe sitting by an open window. Outside, an ancient city was engulfed in flames. The man had a laurel wreath on his head and a fiddle in his hands. But it was the smile on his lips that seemed the most out of place. He stuck the fiddle under his chin and began to play, humming along with a tune Nikki didn’t know. She was seeing a memory from centuries ago, and that’s when a name popped into her head.
“Who’s Nero?” she asked him.
For a moment, Larry seemed startled. “A mad Roman emperor,” he replied, almost instinctively.
“He also liked to play the violin,” Nikki said, matter-of-factly.
“Yes, he did, and according to legend,” Larry added, “he fiddled while Rome burned to the ground.”
Except Nikki knew now that wasn’t a myth at all. Nero really had celebrated the burning of the city he was sworn to protect, and whatever was in Larry was getting ready to do it again.
Finn
Early the next morning, Finn came awake when he heard the commotion from outside. Joanne was snuggled next to him in a cot barely large enough for one. A few of the other colonists were already up, along with about half the people who shared their tent.
“What’s going on?” Joanne asked him with a hint of panic.
He kissed her forehead. “I thought you were asleep.”
“These ears are dialed into danger.”
He touched her cheek. “Wait here. I’ll go find out.”
Finn rolled out of bed and pulled on his coveralls and boots. The minute he got clear of Tent City, he spotted the source of the disturbance. One of the guards overlooking the front gate was shouting at someone on the other side. Had stragglers arrived, looking for a handout? There hadn’t been many of those lately. Most everyone had either banded together and laid claim to a patch of land or died within the first few weeks of The Shift.
It was only when Finn reached the bridge and peered through the giant doors of the front gate that he saw who was on the other side.
“I know them,” Finn shouted to the guard in the tower. “Open the gates and let them in.”
Larry, Donavan, and a handful of armed cult members were heading their way. The guard turned to Larry who nodded and shouted, “Open the gate.”
The latches, which dug into the ground, were raised, and the massive doors swung open.
In drove nearly a dozen Humvees. The one in front brandishing a .50-caliber machine gun manned by a sailor in blue and gray fatigues.
The lead Humvee came to a stop, and Commander Zhou got out, along with Callahan and Kulik, the Polish XO’s shotgun slung over his shoulder.
Finn greeted them warmly. “Wasn’t sure you were gonna make it.” The sight of Zhou and his men was a reassuring one. Between Timothy’s execution and Alvarez’ murder at Larry’s hands, things in New Jamestown had felt on the verge of spiralling out of control.
“Welcome to New Jamestown,” Larry interjected. “You must be Commander Zhou.”
Zhou held out his hand. “And you must be Larry.”
“Indeed. But please forgive me if I don’t shake, I’m afraid I might be coming down with something.”
Behind them, the Humvees rumbled past on their way to the parking area by the rear wall.
“While he was our guest,” Larry said. “Callahan has told us so much about you.”
Zhou and Callahan exchanged a look. “Only good things, I hope,” Zhou said.
“Always.” The two men stood, smiling at one another.
“We don’t intend to stay long,” Zhou told Larry. “Our plan is to head east and attempt to link up with whatever might be left of the government.”
“The government?” Larry asked. “That old thing. Don’t you know it’s long gone?”
“You know that for a fact?” Kulik said, shifting the shotgun onto his other shoulder.
Larry smiled with false modesty. “For a fact? No, but I arrived here from New York City, and I can tell you with some authority, there isn’t much of anything left that way.”
“Have you received any survivors from the Washington area?”
“We haven’t,” Larry conceded. “And surely that in and of itself can’t be a good sign. The folks you see around you were brought here by a message broadcast over a shortwave radio. Other communities have surely sprung up since we arrived, but ... ”
“But what?” Zhou asked.
Larry rolled his eyes in embarrassment. “Trust will always be an issue. Small groups of survivors spread out in a sea of Wipers. Sometimes, that brings out the worst in people, wouldn’t you say?”
“What do you know of these Wipers?”
The grin on Larry’s face was wide and almost menacing. “They shouldn’t be a problem anymore.”
Finn laid a hand on Zhou’s shoulder. “There have been some developments lately you should know about.”
“Oh, enough of that,” Larry said. “There’ll be plenty of time for serious talk. But first, let’s welcome our guests properly. Surely, you and your men are hungry.”
“Starving,” Zhou replied, touching his belly unconsciously. “But I can’t impose. I’ll have my men form into groups and hunt for local game.”
“Game-shmame,” Larry sang. “Don’t be silly. You’re our guest. How many men are with you?”
“Our crew is down to 49 souls,” Zhou said, and something about the way the commander said the word ‘souls’ made Larry’s eyes sparkle.
“What an apt way of putting it. Well, tell your souls to meet us in the gymnasium. We’re going to get you fed. New Jamestown is proud to host any member of the armed services.”
Larry ushered Zhou away toward the compound then, and all the while Finn’s gut kept telling him something wasn’t right. Larry was never that nice unless he needed
something or he was up to no good. Could he have plans on convincing Zhou’s men to stay in New Jamestown? Bolster the colony’s defenses with some extra muscle and fire power? Or could Larry have his conniving little sights set on something else entirely?
Jeffereys
In his note, Alvarez had said a message would arrive shortly, and as always, the creepy bastard was true to his word. Jeffereys was outside, overseeing the repair work on the cars and trucks that had managed to escape the Ely State Prison massacre, when a whistle came from the lookout on the Grand America’s roof. One short blast, which meant whoever was heading their way was coming alone. It wasn’t more than a minute or two later when a chocolate-brown Trans Am came screeching around the corner and into the hotel’s roundabout.
The lone occupant emerged, dressed in full camo with a lock of short dark hair and nice features. The cleanliness of his skin told Jeffereys he was likely one of the ass jockeys who’d attacked the hotel while they were away. The one-armed Wiper by Jeffereys’ side pulled a pistol from his pants waistband and would have taken a shot if Jeffereys hadn’t put a hand on the barrel and told him to get rid of it. If this lone guy was looking for trouble, he woulda come out guns blazing. Jeffereys might not know him, but he was willing to bet this was Alvarez’ messenger.
“That’s close enough,” Jeffereys told him. “State your name and your business.”
“Name’s Donavan. Got a package for Jeffereys.”
Jeffereys smiled and pointed to the big guy next to him. “This here’s Jeffereys. Slide it over.”
Donavan did as he was told. Jeffereys took a step back while the one-armed Wiper knelt down and opened the bag. Packages had a nasty habit of going kaboom, and there was no way Jeffereys was going to take any unnecessary risks.
“Looks safe,” the Wiper told him in broken English.
Donavan was already getting back into the Trans Am and looking mighty happy to be doing so. Jeffereys grabbed the package at about the same time as Donavan’s car tires screeched away.
Inside he found a note and an Iridium satellite phone.
The note read:
Dear Jeffereys,
I’m a man of my word, not that you ever doubted that for a moment. I’ve changed my skin, so to speak. I guarantee the next time we meet you won’t recognize me. But you were never fooled by appearances, were you? Prepare the men. Enclosed, you’ll find a radio. Keep it close and await my signal.
Eternally,
Larry
Jeffereys looked down at the satellite phone, half expecting it to crackle to life. He turned to the one-armed Wiper. “We’ve got work to do.”
Dana
“What do you mean it wasn’t him?” Dana asked. She was standing over her desk, studying a road map, trying to plot the fastest route to the facility near Chief Mountain in Northern Montana.
“There’s someone else in there with him,” Nikki said. She sounded frightened. Aiden was close beside her, his blue eyes twinkling in the soft light.
Bud and Lou were at the back of the trailer, loading .45 slugs into a pair of Glocks.
Dana traced a line along US 287 North. “The trip to Montana will take us 10 hours,” she told the two men. “Make sure we have extra gas cans and enough provisions in case we break down somewhere.”
“Worst-case scenario: We call in AAA,” Lou shot back, hardly able to get the words out before his belly started to gyrate.
Nikki wasn’t amused. “Have you been listening to a word I said?”
Dana looked down at Nikki and the scowl across her face.
“You’re right, Larry’s been acting erratic, but couldn’t stress be to blame for what you’re saying?”
“To blame for what?” Bud asked, only now clueing in to the conversation.
Nikki explained, and at once Bud’s face blanched.
“What is it?” Dana asked.
“The guy from Tevatron who blackmailed me, his name was Harry Thomson. When I arrived in Salt Lake City from New York, I met him again, only this time he wasn’t Harry anymore. His name was Alvarez, and he’d gone from a pasty-white dude, to a short Hispanic-looking fella.”
Dana glared at Bud, wondering if he’d lost his mind.
“Sounds crazy, I know, but I’m telling you the truth. Somehow” the guy’s able to change bodies.”
“Like one of those frickin’ shape-shifters in that movie.” Lou spat. “You ‘member it? Oh, God the one with whatsherface ... ”
“He can’t morph his features,” Bud said, ignoring Lou’s pleas for help. “It’s more like something inside him – ”
“Jumps into someone else,” Nikki said, finishing Bud’s sentence.
“Yeah.”
Dana let the highlighter fall from her hand. “So, you’re saying whatever was in Harry Thomson went into Alvarez, and now it’s in Larry?”
Bud and Nikki nodded at the same time. “Musta happened when Larry killed him,” Bud said.
“You sure you aren’t mistaken?” Dana asked, dreading the answer she knew was coming.
“I saw things,” Nikki told her. “Old, horrible memories.”
“Older than Larry?”
Nikki swallowed hard. “Ancient.”
“Night of the Mutants,” Lou said, crossing himself. “Thought that was gonna torture me all night.”
“We need to leave,” Dana said. “Straightaway.”
•••
Twenty minutes later, Lou was out front with the battle wagon. Extra gas cans hung from the back. Inside was a range of small arms and enough food to last them a week. Dana, Nikki, Aiden, and Bud scrambled down from the trailer and got in.
Dana was putting on her seat belt when she paused. “What about Finn and Joanne? They’re the ones who told us about this in the first place. If anyone should be going, it’s them.”
“Fine by me,” Bud said. “But it’s gonna get mighty cozy.”
“We got some extra space up here,” Dana told him patting the long bench-style seat in the front. “And we can sit someone in the very back.”
All eyes turned to Aiden, who sighed. “I always get the short end of the stick.”
“With age comes privilege,” Nikki said, jumping out. “I’ll go get Finn and Joanne.”
She ran off while Lou killed the engine. There was no sense in wasting precious gas while the car idled.
They hadn’t been waiting for longer than five minutes when Aiden tapped Dana on the shoulder. “I think someone’s coming.”
She glanced over, expecting to see Finn, Joanne, and Nikki, but instead she saw Larry and Donavan approaching along with a dozen armed men.
Larry drummed his fingernails on the passenger window. Dana rolled it down.
“Planning a sightseeing tour?” he asked.
“We’re heading out on business,” Dana told him with a dismissive tone.
“Oh, I see,” Larry replied. “Business. Yes, of course, then I assume you’ve received permission to leave New Jamestown.”
“Permission,” Lou said, and it sounded like he chewed off the word before it fully left his mouth.
Larry leaned in. “Morning, Louis. We were having a nice meal with our new Navy friends when we heard a rumor citizens were planning an illegal excursion.”
“We’re free to come and go as we please,” Dana told him. “I’m the appointed sheriff, don’t forget.”
“Were, Dana darling. You were the appointed sheriff, but not any longer.” He reached in and tore the badge from her chest. “And nobody leaves New Jamestown without my say-so.”
Larry turned to Donavan and the men behind him. “Confiscate their weapons, will you, and when you’re done, see to it that our Navy friends are disarmed as well. If anyone resists, shoot them. We can’t have hooligans running around endangering innocent lives, now can we?”
Larry
The number of firearms in New Jamestown was truly astounding, and it took the better part of the day to collect them all. The trick was to descend on each unsuspec
ting group of colonists with overwhelming force. A few of the more dim-witted folks had attempted to reach for hidden pistols and were cut down straightaway. Larry had made sure Donavan’s orders were clear. One couldn’t run a successful tyranny with an armed population running around. The arrival of Commander Zhou and his unsuspecting men had only been the icing on the proverbial cake and a sign that Larry’s plan was coming together.
He was in the middle of relishing that very thought when Donavan entered his office and laid a box of spark plugs on his desk.
“The vehicles have all been disabled. Humvees don’t use plugs so we boxed ‘em in with the other cars.”
“And the confiscated weapons?”
“Those are being stored across from the interrogation room.”
Hearing that stirred something deep within Larry. An old memory that tasted about 100 years old. The image was faint, but clear enough. He’d been heading into that room to brandish his Rainbowite initiation robe. It was the day he was set to become one of them. The same day he’d discovered Patty Mae across the hall, strapped to that chair. He couldn’t possibly have imagined then that Timothy had been the one behind it all, although at the time, finding the woman had helped to feed him the ammunition he would use to dethrone All Father.
Speaking of thrones, Larry was enjoying the polished oak seat Donavan had commissioned for him. It wasn’t quite as nice as the throne made from human bones he’d enjoyed at the Grand America, but he couldn’t have his taste for exotic furniture shocking the sensitive people of New Jamestown, not yet at least.
“Throw them in with the guns,” Larry said about the spark plugs, waving a hand with disdain.
The sound of a struggle near the compound basement doors caught Larry’s attention. Two men were struggling to enter. The guards at the door, trying to stop them.
“Let them in for goodness’ sake,” Larry called out.
The two men entered his office and stood before him. He vaguely knew one was named Hobbes and the other Singleton. Their clothes were torn and faces bloodied. It looked as though they’d been fighting.
“What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?”
Hobbes pointed at Singleton. “This bastard’s a thief. He went into my footlocker and stole my 1933 Double Eagle gold coins.”
Primal Shift: Volume 2 (A Post Apocalyptic Thriller) Page 26
