by James Cook
“So that’s what you’re here for? To win these people to your cause?”
“No, Mr. Garrett. I’m here to help them take back their country. To build a future where their children don’t have to spend every day in fear for their lives, a future where they can prosper and live in peace.”
I stared at him for a long moment, searching for any sign of deception. Nothing tripped my bullshit detector. Either Captain McCray was being sincere, or he was a damned good liar. Nevertheless, I wasn’t quite ready to trust him just yet.
“So you expect me to believe that you don’t have your own agenda here. You’re just being a good soldier, following orders and doing your duty to God and country. I’m supposed to believe that?”
The solder’s face darkened, his eyes turned hard and angry. “You believe whatever you want to believe.” He said, keeping his voice calm. “I told you what you need to know. It’s up to you to decide what to do with the information. Just remember that you’re in a position to help these people, Mr. Garrett.”
“Help them? After they decided to keep me captive and try to extort me? Why would I want to help them?”
“Because they let you in and helped you when they didn’t have to. Because Eric would be dead now if not for these people. They’ve fed you, provided you with medical treatment, given you a safe place to live, and now all they’re asking you to do is give something back. Is that too unreasonable for you?”
An uncomfortable silence stood between us for a moment. I didn’t want to admit it, but he had a point.
“You’re right.” I said, letting out a heavy sigh. “In their place, I’d probably do the same thing.”
Steve’s anger faded. “Listen, we stand to accomplish more if we work together on this. Talk to the mayor tomorrow, then come find me. We’ll figure something out.”
I nodded. “I guess that’s as good a plan as any. See you tomorrow, Captain.”
“See you tomorrow.” He said, then turned and walked away.
I stood there alone for a while, staring at the moon and feeling old, tired, and damn near used up. I guess there really is no rest for the weary.
*****
I didn’t make it to the poker game; the Glover’s place was as far as I got. They could tell something was bothering me, and were kind enough to let me crash the in the spare bedroom for the night. Allison had left for work the next morning when I got home, and Eric was in the kitchen cooking breakfast in a predictably chipper mood.
“Gabe-man.” He called as I shut the door behind me. “What’s shakin’ buddy?”
I took a seat at the bistro table. “Looks like you are, amigo. I take it things went well last night?”
“Come on man, you know a gentleman doesn’t talk about things like that.” He replied as he stirred eggs in a bowl.
“Gentlemen don’t, but I’m asking you.”
He looked up at me and frowned. “And here I was about to make you some breakfast.”
I held up my hands. “Mea Culpa. Seriously though, everything go okay with Allison?”
He stopped stirring for a moment. A quiet smile that I had never seen from him before tugged at his lips.
“Yeah. Yeah it did. I had a great time.”
I grunted, nodded, and left it at that. “What’s for breakfast?”
Eric beamed at me. “You’re going to shit your pants.”
“Over eggs? Don’t think so. I’ve had those since we got here.” I said.
“Oh no, my friend.” He said as he walked over to a plate covered with a tea towel. “Over this.”
He snapped the towel away with a dramatic flourish and held a palm out toward the plate. My eyes went wide at the sight of it.
“Dear sweet baby Jesus, is that what I think it is?”
“That depends. Do you think it is the most perfect meat in the world, fit for the gods, but nonetheless available for consumption by mere mortals such as we?”
“Bet your ass.” I breathed, getting up from my seat and walking around the island to stare at it. “I was beginning to think I’d never see this stuff again.”
“And yet here we are, basking in the glow of pure ambrosia.” Eric picked up a slice of meat and dropped it into a skillet on the woodstove. The sizzle made my stomach growl, my mouth watered at the smell.
“Behold, dear Gabriel. Behold the wonder that is bacon.”
I beheld. For once, I didn’t find Eric’s smartass mock theatrics annoying, I was too busy trying not to drool. Put me on death row and ask me what I want for a last meal, and I’ll tell you to bring me three pounds of skillet-fried bacon. Two years had passed since the last time I enjoyed it, and the prospect of eating it again was almost too much to handle. I’m not ashamed to admit that I choked up a little bit. Come on, we’re talking about bacon here.
Normally I’m a fast eater, but on this occasion I took my time, savoring every little bite and wishing it could last forever. It was that good. Maybe I’ll write a poem about it someday.
“So what did you get into last night?” Eric asked as I used a fingertip to pick up the little meat crumbs that broke off onto my plate while I was eating.
“I ran into your friend Steve.”
Eric raised an eyebrow at that. “Really. What was he up to?”
I filled him in on my conversation with the Special Forces operative. Eric’s good mood evaporated.
“Fuck’s sake.” He said. “What do you think they want us to do?”
I shrugged. “I imagine they want us to make the Free Legion go away permanently.”
“And how exactly are we supposed to do that? We don’t even know how many of them we’re dealing with.”
“I don’t know.” I said. “I’ll see what this mayor lady has to say, and then we’ll talk it over with Steve. He’s been gathering intel on the Legion for a while now, maybe he’ll have some ideas.”
Just as we finished cleaning the breakfast dishes, a knock sounded at the front door. Eric and I exchanged a glance.
“I got it.” I said.
Sheriff Elliott stood framed against the morning sunlight on the front step, holding his wide-brimmed hat in his hands. “Good morning Mr. Garrett. Wonder if I might have a word with you.”
I stepped back and held the door open. “Of course. Come on in, Sheriff.”
He wiped his feet and stepped inside, pausing in the foyer to look around. “Been a long time since I seen the inside of this place.”
“Did you know Doctor Laroux’s grandmother?” I asked.
The Sheriff nodded. “Long time ago. Seems like another life.”
“I know what you mean.” I said. “Sometimes I feel like forty years just can’t be enough to cover everything I’ve seen.”
Elliott gave a tired laugh, deepening the wrinkles and creases around his eyes.
“Tell you what son, come talk to me when you hit your sixties.”
I smiled at that. “Be glad to, assuming I’m still around. Care for something to drink, Sheriff? I’m afraid all we have at the moment is water. If you stick around a minute I could make some tea.”
“I can’t stay long, unfortunately. I’m just here to deliver a message from Mayor Stone. She’d like to speak with you this afternoon at three-thirty at her office in Town Hall. Would you be able to do that?”
I exhaled and crossed my arms over my chest. “Do I have a choice?”
Elliott shifted uncomfortably. “Of course you do. If you’d like to meet some other time, we can work around that.”
“That’s not what I meant, Sheriff.”
His eyes hardened. Now he looked like a cop. “There’s no need to be stubborn about this, Mr. Garrett. You took advantage of the services this town offers knowing full well you’d be expected to pay us back. If we wanted to, we could simply take what we feel is just compensation and send you on your way. We don’t want to do that, we’d rather negotiate a fair price.”
I ground my teeth and nodded. Eric came around the corner behind the Sheriff and l
eaned against a wall, listening to the conversation. He shot me a pointed stare and tapped a finger against his pistol. I uncrossed my arms and made a small negating gesture with one hand.
“You’re right.” I sighed, doing my best to look defeated. “I knew the score when I got here, no sense arguing about it now. Tell the mayor I’ll be there.”
Elliott nodded. “I appreciate that.” The old man put his hat on as he turned and opened the door to leave. “Life is better in this town than just about anywhere else, Mr. Garrett. The mayor just wants to keep it that way. You should keep that in mind.”
“Is that a warning?” I asked.
He shook his head. “It’s a piece of friendly advice.”
The door clicked shut behind him. Silence filled the room for a long moment.
“What’s the plan?” Eric asked.
I shook my head. “For now, there is no plan. I’m going to go meet with the mayor and find out what she wants. After that,” I shrugged, “we’ll just have to wait and see.”
*****
A couple of streets over, a frumpy Hispanic woman named Carmella Delgado ran a laundry service out of her house. I’d seen people picking up and dropping off clothes there a few times in the last couple of weeks. If I was going to meet with the town’s leader, I figured I should at least show up looking something close to presentable. I stuffed a roll of toilet paper in a cargo pocket, folded up my best pair of pants and a button down shirt, and knocked on the little woman’s door. She smiled up at me when she answered.
“Can I help you?” She asked, her accent thick.
“Um, yes ma’am. I understand you can clean and press some clothes for me.”
“Sure,” She said brightly, “what you need?”
“Just washed and pressed would be fine.” I said, handing over the outfit. “They’ve been in the bottom of a bag for a while.”
“No problem. What you pay with?”
“Well, I have this.” I dug the roll of toilet paper out of my pocket. “If it’s not enough I could-“
“Deal.” She said, snatching the roll away from me before I could finish the sentence. Her smile widened. “Come pick up in an hour, okay?”
“That would be great, thanks very much.”
She waved and said goodbye, then closed the door. Something told me I just got the short end of that particular stick, but I let it go. It was worth the price to get out of doing my own laundry for a change.
A shave and a haircut at the local barbershop was my next order of business. The barber was a kindly old fellow named Benny who reminded me of my uncle Aaron. He motioned for me to have a seat when I walked in and shook out a black apron. I didn’t realize how long my hair had gotten until I sat down in the barber stool and looked at myself in the mirror. Tangled black locks hung nearly to my shoulders, framing a beard that a medium-sized bird could comfortably have built a nest in.
“So whadya have?” Benny asked, stepping on a pedal to lower the chair.
I stared in the mirror and shook my head. “It’s been so long, I don’t even know what to tell you.”
“Well, if you trust me to it, I’ll work a little magic and have you looking good as new.” The old man replied.
I smiled. “Fair enough. No Mohawks, please.”
He chuckled at that. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Half an hour later, a thick carpet of dark hair covered the tiles at my feet. The place looked like someone had detonated a black Labrador. I leaned forward to look in the mirror, running a hand over my face.
“You look about ten years younger, son.” Benny said as he reached for a broom.
I almost didn’t recognize myself. So much time had passed since the last time I was clean-shaven I had forgotten what I looked like under all that scruff. My head looked a lot smaller with close-cropped hair. I paid Benny with ten rounds of .45 ammo from one of the spare magazines for my pistol, and made my way home. Carmela waved me down as I passed her house and brought out my clothes. They were clean, dry, and pressed to perfection. She had even hung them up on little wire coat hangers.
“This looks great, ma’am. Thanks very much.”
“No problem.” She replied, her bright smile revealing straight white teeth. “Come back anytime.”
I smiled back and walked home. Time to get cleaned up.
One of the perks of being in such a small town was the local water tower. Gravity-fed plumbing meant that even without electricity, we still had running water. A sheriff’s deputy had briefed us our first night in town about water restrictions, and made sure we knew to keep showers as short as possible. I violated that rule. If this town wanted me to fight their battles for them, they could damn well let me take a nice long shower.
I showed up to the meeting a few minutes early, smelling like soap and wearing my freshly laundered clothes. The town hall was a small affair with a building for the Sheriff’s office attached on one side. A polite middle-aged woman and a younger lady who looked to be in her early twenties greeted me at the front desk when I walked in. I opened my mouth to introduce myself, but older woman interrupted.
“You must be Mister Garrett.” She said, peering at me through a pair of bifocals.
I nodded. “That’s right. How’d you know?”
“Oh, I know everyone around here. Besides, no one else in this town looks anything like you do, sweetie.”
I smiled at that. She had a point, I do tend to stand out a bit.
“Where should I wait to speak with the mayor?” I asked.
“Go on upstairs and take your first right. There’ll be a little room with a couple of nice chairs in it, just wait there and Miss Stone will be with you shortly.”
I climbed the staircase and took a seat in one of the plush leather chairs standing against the wall outside the oak door to the mayor’s office. A soft murmur of conversation drifted up to me from the front desk. I closed my eyes and concentrated, slowing down my breathing. My ears are pretty sharp, and I could just make out what the two ladies downstairs were saying.
“…well I think he’s hot. He reminds me of Hugh Jackman, only taller and buffer.” It was the younger one speaking.
“I don’t know honey.” Came the older voice. “Did you see those scars? He might be bad news.”
“I like the scars. I always did have thing for bad boys. And you have to admit, his body is pretty ridiculous. All that muscle.”
Who the hell are they talking about? I thought. Can’t be me. They must be looking at a magazine, or talking about a local boy, or something.
My musings were interrupted when the door to the mayor’s office opened. An attractive woman with long brown hair tied back in a loose bun and a broad, disarming smile stepped out to greet me. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, and wore a Florida State t-shirt over a pair of faded jeans. I made it a point not to look at her chest. It wasn’t easy, she had a lot going on there.
“You must be Gabriel Garrett.” She said.
I stood up and smiled, figuring she must be the mayor’s assistant. “Yes ma’am. I have a meeting with Mayor Stone this afternoon.”
“Come on in.” She held the door open and allowed me inside.
Floor to ceiling windows with cherry-stained wooden panes stood behind an unoccupied desk with two chairs in front of it. The room was fairly small. A bookshelf lined one wall, while picture frames displaying degrees from two different universities adorned the other. The windows overlooked a well-tended lawn that stretched out in front of the building. The woman who let me into the office walked around the desk and stopped behind it, reaching out for a handshake.
“I’m Mayor Elizabeth Stone. Pleasure to meet you Mister Garrett.”
I must have blushed from my toes all the way up to the tips of my ears.
“Oh, uh…sorry ma’am. I mean mayor. I didn’t realize…”
Her expression broke, and she doubled over laughing. She had to sit down in her chair to keep from falling over. After slapping the desktop a few tim
es, she sat back and regarded me with warm brown eyes.
“Oh God. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. You just looked so serious. And call me Liz.”
I got a hold of myself and sat down across from her. This mayor was definitely not what I was expecting. My mouth opened a couple of times to speak, but I couldn’t seem to get my brain to send it anything to say.
“So how do you like the town so far?” She said, letting me off the hook.
“It’s very nice, I appreciate you letting me and my friends stay here.”
“Right, which brings us to the point of our little meeting.” Her expression sobered, and she sat up straight in her chair. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now that the town levies a fee for services provided by its citizens.”
“Actually I’ve heard it’s your office that charges the fee. At your discretion.”
She shrugged. “Tomato, to-mah-to. Either way the end result is the same. The Sheriff tells me it was a run-in with the Free Legion that brought you to my town’s doorstep.”
I didn’t quite like the way she referred to the town as hers. “It was.”
“Care to tell me what happened?”
I leaned back in my chair and laced my fingers over my stomach. “They ambushed us. We had a woman with us, so they didn’t just slaughter us outright, they wanted her alive. We used that to our advantage and turned the tables on them.”
“The report I read said that twenty bodies were found where the Legion ambushed you.”
“Twenty three, actually.”
The mayor nodded. I saw a shrewd, calculating intelligence behind those pretty brown eyes.
“So you were outnumbered over four to one when you were attacked, and yet you’re still alive to talk about it. You know, my husband was in the military, God rest his soul. He told me about a really bad firefight he got into in Baghdad where he and his friends were surrounded, and they had to shoot their way out of a building. He told me that when you’re in a bad situation, and it looks like there’s no way out, you have two choices.”
