by lake, e a
Hastily, he moved to the opposite side of the stage, continuing loudly. “These people you trusted for oh so long were liars. They wouldn’t even tell you my group’s proper name. They besmirched us at every opportunity.” He screamed, raising his red bandana over his head. “We are the Red Rangers, people. Not the Red Shirt Raiders.”
A loud, rousing cheer came from his soldiers circling the people, causing fear to move through the crowd.
“If they couldn’t even be truthful about our name, something that simple, what other lies have they filled you with?” he said.
“Who the hell are you?” a young man shouted from the middle of the crowd. Many nodded and followed with a chorus of “Yeah, who are you?”
The corners of his mouth rose, but only by a fraction of an inch. “I’m Willem Tarlisch. I guess you could say that given the circumstances, I’m your new mayor.” Turning his head away from the crowd, he spoke softly to the dead bodies. “Like it or not.” Focusing back on the crowd, he raised his arms over his head. “And I am here to lead you out of the wilderness. Away from this oppressive clan and into a better, brighter future. Just like the Prophet Smith did, so many years ago. Together, we will prosper. Together, we will all enjoy the fruits of our labor. Together,” his voice softened finally, “we will live as a free and decent society.”
A single clap began in the center of the crowd and spread, albeit sparse and unenthusiastic.
Tarlisch nodded several times, though the acceptance of his words was mostly quiet. “There are going to be some difficult changes we’ll have to make. All change, especially during these uncertain times for humanity, is difficult. But if we stay the course and all move to the same golden prosperous goal,” he paused, wiping away faux tears, “we just may make it, friends.” Surveying the group, he noticed more and more people paying closer attention. His heart raced, realizing the crowd just may be buying this. “And finally, after 12 long years of suffering, we may be able to do more than simply exist. We, my family, may live again. Just like the olden days.” A few more nods and positive looks. “Salt Lake will once again become the shining beacon of the West, the prosperous golden city that brother Smith brought our forefathers to.” More hearty applause broke out, even a few cheers. Tarlisch waved at the crowd, stepping from side to side on the stage, careful not to tread in any blood or gore.
CHAPTER THREE
After being dismissed by Tarlisch and his men, the crowd hustled away from the common area in front of the Masonic Temple, away from the death and back to their homes… and safety. Some cried as they walked, not believing what they had witnessed just moments earlier. Shock showed on many faces.
A raven-haired, slender woman stopped to catch her breath. With hands on his knees, her husband leaned against her.
“What the hell was that, Bets? And who is that guy?” Jeremy asked.
Betsi waved him to renew their jog home. Increasing their pace, they ran south on Windsor Street, only a half-mile away from the scene Betsi Albrecht had already tried to forget. When they turned south on Iowa Street, almost home, she finally walked.
Glancing back to be sure Jeremy was still there she began. “That’s Willem Tarlisch. You know him and his reputation.” When she looked into his eyes, she noticed no recognition. “Red Rangers, Jeremy. Come on, we know all about them and their shenanigans. And now we know they’re murderers. Like that’s any shock though.” She opened the back gate to their home and ran to the rear steps. “Come on, we need to hurry.”
Jeremy grabbed his wife’s wrist and pulled her to an abrupt stop.
“What?” she demanded, staring deep into his frightened eyes.
“Betsi, they just killed six people, and that Tarlisch acted like it didn’t bother him. Then his thugs surrounded us so we had to listen to some lecture about better times ahead. And then we sprinted home, and now you’re talking about hurrying?” He searched her eyes for something. “What gives? I need answers – and now, please.”
Betsi plopped onto the rear wood steps of their modest bungalow and rubbed her forehead. Jeremy could be so thick-headed sometimes. So believing in others. How could he not see the danger in staying here any longer?
“They want the town. And all the people. They’ll make all the people slaves for them now. They’ll expect us to do everything while they sit back and enjoy whatever we provide.”
“How do you know this?” he asked, taking a spot next to her on the step.
Sighing noticeably, she tried to smile at her husband of 10 years. “Jeremy, that’s why I went to so many meetings these past six years. I wanted to know what was going on out in the desert, the place where the Rangers had been banished.” He gave her another puzzled look.
“My Dad always warned me about Tarlisch’s group. Ever since he joined the Salt Lake Militia. He warned me it was only a matter of time before that ass did something like this. He waited for the militia to weaken. And now he’s here.”
“Betsi, there’s a lot more of us than them. We can band together and drive them out. They can’t win; we’ll crush them.”
Betsi’s head slumped forward. “Oh sweetie,” she began, “I love you dearly, but you don’t understand the big picture.” She turned to face him directly. “He has more than 2,500 men and women under his command in the desert. What we saw today was only a sliver of his power. And do you remember when the council called for arms about 10 years ago? Right after we got married?” He nodded his remembrance of the month-long event. “Well, he has control of them now. They’re all locked up in the basement of city hall.”
Jeremy’s mouth opened a little, but no words came out. His eyes showed his understanding of the news. “Most of our militia’s gone now,” he muttered. “They went to help secure Brigham City.” He stared at his wife’s hands, rubbing the corners of her eyes. “They’re 60 miles north of here.” Standing up from the porch, his left hand slowly came to his mouth. He turned back to face his wife.
She nodded slowly. “We don’t stand a chance. He has all the weapons, he has huge stables of people, and they’re all angry from living in the desert. Once they start, it will be like the Nazis taking over Paris.”
“We don’t stand a chance,” he added in a whisper.
“And that’s why we need to get packed and get out of here, sweetie.” Betsi stood and reached for Jeremy’s hand. “We’ll make it, but we got to get going this afternoon. We need to get out of here before he blocks all the roads.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek softly. “We have to get into the mountains and find my father. He has to be warned. And it’s our job to do it,” she whispered softly.
Jeremy nodded many times at his wife’s wisdom. Suddenly, he stopped, giving her a last puzzled look. “I thought your dad marched north with the militia,” he stated, seemingly unsure now what he had been told.
Betsi cringed at the statement. Slowly her eyes met his. “Dad had heard rumors of Tarlisch having it in for him. The mayor and the council thought it was better if he went somewhere until the rumors blew over.” She paused, thinking of her father. “So to be honest, he’s not up in Brigham City. He’s in the mountains to the east. In a small encampment with some displaced people.” She sensed the betrayal in her husband’s eyes. Looking away, she heard him spit.
“Where is he then, Bets?” he asked. “And the truth this time.”
Standing, she took Jeremy’s hands in hers and came clean. “He’s about 30 miles east of here. I’m not 100 percent certain of what the camp is called, but I’m sure we can find it.” His eyes narrowed. “Honestly, that’s all I know, sweetie.” Starting for the back door, she called to him one last time. “We need to hurry. We have to figure out what to pack and what to leave. We can only take what we can carry, okay?” With her eyes, and a pained smile, she pleaded with her husband to drop the questioning.
“How long?” he asked quietly.
“What?”
“How long do you plan on us being gone?”
Her eyes fell, no lon
ger willing to take the disappointment from Jeremy. “I don’t think we’re ever coming back. So pack all you need.”
Solemnly, she entered the house alone.
CHAPTER FOUR
Inside the old stone temple, Tarlisch and his men set about finding the objects of their desires, his desire. Striding confidently down the marble hallway, he spun into the office marked “City Clerk” over the door.
“Get digging, men,” he called to his group, pointing at the gray metal file cabinets on the far wall. “We’re looking for militia locations and census records first.” Six of his most trusted comrades read the small typed labels on the front of each drawer.
Finally, one called back. “Militia over here, sir.”
Tarlisch grinned. Now he’d have information at his fingertips that would have taken months of reconnaissance before this. The musty odor of old paper filled the room as he moved closer to the reports being spread out on the conference table for his inspection.
“Find out if Talbot Bond went north with them.” Tarlisch stroked his thin cheeks as two soldiers ran through the reports. “I think he’s a captain now, almost certain of it.” His words trailed off, as did his thoughts. Finding Bond was his first priority, but there were others as well.
Turning quickly, he spotted another pair of men lounging by the door. “I have three names for you to find on the census, boys. Three families I’m just dying to meet.” Taking a small slip of paper from his shirt pocket, he handed it to one of the two. “Kane, Cormat and Williamson. First names are all on there.” He turned to check on the progress of the others, but called back with an afterthought. “I want addresses and family members. I’d like to make some visits tomorrow.”
The pair chuckled as they began scanning labels for census information. They knew exactly what Tarlisch had in mind for these families.
The faint sound of running came from the hall. As the slapping of boots on linoleum came closer, Tarlisch stopped his reading in the militia folder and paused to listen for a voice.
“Willem,” a woman’s voice came from the door.
Tarlisch rolled his eyes and screwed up his mouth. “What is it, lieutenant?” His words dripped with boredom in her presence. “I assume you found something interesting to report?”
She nodded briefly. “Yes sir. Would you like to come see?” She watched as he slowly turned to face her, now leaning back against the cold cabinets lining the wall.
“I can’t think of anything duller than to run off with you and play ‘see what I found’, Melinda. Please,” he rolled his hand in her direction, “just give me your report, and make it snappy.”
Coming to attention, she placed her hands squarely behind her back. The blonde soldier cleared her throat. “Weapons, sir. In the basement. A lot of weapons…” Her equally blonde eyebrows rose, showing her excitement.
Tarlisch squeezed his nose, hoping for more. “Like, how many? Hundreds?” Her head shook quickly. “Thousands?” She smiled and nodded. Tarlisch grinned, seeking out the eyes of his second-in-command. “See Howard, I told you they were well stocked.”
“And,” Melinda interrupted his thought, “quite a stockpile of ammo. Rodgers is down there counting right now, but I’d say at least 100,000 rounds sir, maybe a lot more.”
Clapping his hands, Tarlisch let out an evil laugh, deep and throaty. “I told you boys, these people were loaded for bear. They took every citizen’s weapon in the name of peace. All for the militia.” Strolling toward the only woman in the room, he slid an arm over her shoulder. Giving it a squeeze, he continued. “And now our wonderful Lieutenant Melinda has brought us the good news we deserve.” He lightly kissed her cheek before releasing his grip. “The militia of Salt Lake has only the weapons and ammo currently on their bodies. No backups, no seconds. They are at our mercy now. Just like the 6,000 or so residents they left behind.”
The group shared a laugh, congratulating one another on their coup. As their voices quieted, a sole man stepped forward with a pile of cream-colored folders.
“Better hold off on that number, Will.” Andy Tarlisch set the folders on the conference table in the center of the room and scanned the others’ faces. He noticed confusion on most.
“What am I missing, cousin? You have more news?” Tarlisch asked. Quickly, he scanned through the top folder. “These are the census reports?” Andy’s head bobbed up and down several times. “And?”
Opening the first folder, Andy began. “Each page has 50 names. It also has addresses, ages, sex, militia status and several other columns I’m not sure of yet. Each folder has 10 pages, so 500 names per folder.” Andy stared up into his older cousin’s questioning eyes.
“And?” Tarlisch responded.
“There are 27 folders, Will.” The collective group stepped closer. “That means the population is a lot closer to 14,000, not 6,000.”
Tarlisch’s open palm slammed down on the table, causing many to jump. “I knew it,” he shouted. “I just knew that Erickson was a liar.”
“But sir,” a man asked from the side of the table, “why would they lie? Why not just tell the people the real number?”
Plopping into a chair, Tarlisch studied the folders like a miser counting gold. “Because,” he paused, casting a glance at the old tin ceiling, “they only produce enough food every year for 5,000 or 6,000 people. Not double that.” Leaning back, he stared around the room at the confused faces of his troops. “You see, once upon a time they had a nice stockpile of food. And they told the population four or five years ago it was gone. But, they’ve been using that last bit of the stockpile to shore up the deficit.” No expressions changed; everyone was still as lost as before.
“That means,” he started again slowly, “that they must have been supplementing their stockpile from somewhere else. The logical choice is from the north, since we know about everything to the south. Right?” A few heads nodded, many faces still were confused. “They’re loaning their militia out like mercenaries, boys and girls. Guns for hire.”
“And that means exactly what, sir?” asked Melinda from a corner.
A grin crept slowly across Tarlisch’s dirty, tan face. “That means our honorable mayor, and the honorable council, and those honorable self-righteous three families who run this town, haven’t been so…” He rolled his hand hoping someone, anyone would finish his sentence. “Honorable, you cretins!” he screamed, causing a few to jump. “They’ve lied to their people about everything.” Rolling his head around his shoulders, Tarlisch sighed. “Including us being the bad guys. For years, they took from our farms and gave us no thanks. For years, we protected the south entrance for them. And what did they do in return?” His face tensed recalling the past.
“Treated us like ugly step-children, killed my father and my brother, took all of our southern farmland, and branded us the bad ones. The unfit. They banished us to the desert, took everything that was ours, and used it for their own.” Rising from his seat, he strolled to the large window at the front of the office.
“And all this so Erickson and his cronies could stay in the good graces of the Kanes, and the Cormats and the Williamsons, Salt Lake’s favorite families, the cream of the crop.” Spinning quickly like a snake about to lash out, he leaned on the far end of the conference table. “Well, starting tomorrow, those lucky families are going to learn something that the Tarlischs have known for years.” Striding confidently toward the door, his cousin stepped in front of him.
“What have we always known, Willem?” Andy asked.
Tarlisch patted his cousin’s shoulder and grinned. “Payback’s a bitch,” he snapped.
Andy finally grinned back.
Eyeing Melinda, Tarlisch winked. “Okay lieutenant, show me what you’ve found.” Quickly, the pair left the room. Willem’s second ran after them as they made their way to the dank basement.
CHAPTER FIVE
Skeptically, the middle-aged woman’s gaze darted between the enclosure’s gate and the footprints in the fully
encased garden. Her green eyes then surveyed the chicken wire overhead and every inch of the sides. Wringing her thin hands, she looked back at the garden supervisor for the camp.
“Explain that to me again, Dave. I don’t think I followed your explanation.” She knelt, inspecting the stalks of the harvested cauliflower. “You say animals snuck into a gated – and locked – space, and somehow managed to harvest 50 plants, and made off closing the gate behind them.” A gentle breeze caused a wisp of fine red hair to escape her tight bun as she quizzically stared up at the man.
“Well,” he started, blushing slightly, “now that you repeat it like that, I suppose that doesn’t make any sense, Cara.” He removed his ball cap and wiped his brow. It was still early morning and she could see he was already sweating.
“Who was supposed to be on duty here last night?”
Dave sighed. “Well, my Agnes was here until a few hours after dark.” He paused, holding the last name intentionally from her prying gaze.
“Isn’t Kirby normally on after her?” Cara rose with her question.
Dave stared down at the slight woman. “Yeah, but I haven’t confirmed that exactly yet.” His head tipped to one side, showing his apology.
Cara smiled without teeth, patting Dave’s forearm. “Where is he?”
Letting his eyes fall away, Dave shook his head. “Probably still sleeping, if I had to guess,” he answered.
Cara stepped carefully to the gate and the pair left the large enclosure. Starting back for the camp, Cara soaked in the early morning sunshine. Filtered rays, streaking between the pine branches, lightly lighted the woods. The smell of fresh pine filled the air. Birds chirped all around, singing their joy of another perfect day to come.
“I remember when my husband and all of you built these enclosures,” Cara stated. “I thought the chicken wire on the top was extreme, but Steven insisted. As did you, if I recall.” She peeked and noticed Dave’s boyish grin. For almost 40, he was still young in many ways.
