by David Lucin
“I never had you pegged as a wino,” Liam said. “The most I know about wine is the difference between red and white.”
“Don’t forget rosé,” Gary joked.
“I’m full of surprises, Commander.” The sheriff took a seat beside Gary, brought his cup to his nose, and inhaled long and deep, eyes closed. “Nothing short of divine.”
Liam sniffed his own cup. Surprisingly, he smelled leather and tobacco, not fruit. The cheap wine he and Erin used to drink reminded him of juice or jam.
“A cheers,” Wilson said and lifted his cup. “To your Flagstaff Militia coming to our rescue and once and for all snuffing out the Major and his crew. You just might have secured our southern flank for the foreseeable future.”
The three men bumped cups. Gary said, “Don’t sell yourself short, Sheriff. It was a combined effort. I’m sure a few slipped through our noose.”
“Some, but without your help, I’ve no doubt we would’ve been overrun.” Wilson took a sip of his wine and sloshed it around in his mouth before swallowing. “Oh my. If you gentlemen need proof of a higher power, look no further than what’s in your cups.”
Liam tasted some. It was smooth, almost velvety on the tongue, with a touch of spice. And admittedly very good, unlike any wine he’d ever tried. He made a note to take it easy, however; he hadn’t had any alcohol in months, and with his stomach perpetually empty, he might wind up drunk after a single cup.
Upon his first sip, Gary attempted without success to hide his grimace. To Liam’s knowledge, the man only drank one brand of cheap Canadian beer. Yet Liam had no doubt he would finish his share and pretend to enjoy it. A sacrifice in the name of diplomacy.
“I was thinking, Sheriff,” Gary began as the three settled in, “that we could discuss having some volunteers from Prescott train with the Militia, maybe with the long-term goal of establishing some sort of bilateral defense agreement.”
Wilson had another sip of wine. “You’d have to talk to the mayor and city council to hammer out the details, but I’m in full support of the idea and will do my best to advocate on your behalf.”
“We should consider bringing the Navajo Nation into the fold at some point as well. To secure our northern flank, if you will.”
“Contact with them has been sporadic,” Liam said. “The chapters were independent enough before the bombs. Now, as far as I’ve heard through traders and scouts, communities are surviving mostly on their own, even raiding each other sometimes. We might have to deal with them individually.”
“Or choose sides,” Wilson added ominously. “If they’re at war.”
Gary ran his finger along the lip of his cup. “Once the Militia’s done here, we can consider sending some envoys to the president in Window Rock. I’d prefer not to take sides if some of the chapters are in conflict, as you say.”
The sheriff had finished his first cup and was pouring himself a second. “Let’s talk about politics later, gentlemen. Right now, I’m dying to get a closer look at one of them combat drones I saw patrolling the line up there. What’d Sergeant Murphy call it? A DLC?”
“LCD,” Liam said. “Legged combat drone. And I’d be happy to show you. Care to join, Gary?”
“Yes, but I should say hello to Jenn first, if she’s around and available. I expect I’d get an earful from her if I didn’t.”
Liam laughed at that. “Oh, I imagine you would.”
* * *
From a nearby fold-out table and chairs, Jenn watched as Wyatt and Tanis fumbled with a plastic bin. As they lifted it into the trailer attached to the solar Dodge, Wyatt’s grip slipped, and the bin fell to the asphalt. The lid popped off, and blankets tumbled out. Tanis cursed at him while he rushed to clean up the mess.
“Maybe I should help,” Jenn said.
Sam rested his ankle on the opposite knee. “What about the perks of rank? Don’t you get those? I don’t see Dylan helping load any trailers.”
“But he’s a platoon leader. I’m a squad leader. It’s different.”
“You’re fine here. Besides, look.” He waved toward one of the supply tents, where Quinn directed a trio of grunts inside. “Quinn’s got things under control.”
“Yeah, she can be pretty bossy.”
Sam nudged her with his foot. “Kind of like someone else I know.”
“I’m not as bossy as I used to be. You have to admit, I’ve gotten better.”
“Or are you more bossy but the Militia just gives you an outlet for your bossiness? A way to channel it.” Again he nudged her. “You ever think of it like that?”
“Maybe, but you shouldn’t complain. You were my only outlet before. Now you’re off the hook.”
“I wouldn’t say I was your only outlet. Gary took a good brunt of it, too.”
“Indeed I did,” Gary said from the direction of the command tent. “But I also agree with you, Jenn. You’ve gotten much better.”
“Gary?” Jenn said. “I didn’t know you were coming down here again so soon.”
He ambled over, holding a cup of something red in one hand. Was that wine? Where did he find that? “Sheriff Wilson wanted a tour of the place, so I figured I’d show him myself. It was a good opportunity to do some diplomacy. I thought I’d get in trouble if I didn’t come say hi.”
She hugged him and said, “That’s right—you would’ve.” She pulled away and nodded toward his cup. “What do you have there? Some grape juice?”
In true Gary fashion, he ignored her joke. “This is very old and, I assume, very expensive wine Sheriff Wilson brought to celebrate.” He offered her the cup. “You want it? It doesn’t quite . . . suit my palate, let’s say.”
“I’d love some, but if Dylan caught me drinking on shift, I’d be on outhouse-cleaning duty for sure.”
“Sam?” Gary asked as they shook hands. “How about you? I’m told it’s ‘divine,’ so you might enjoy it.”
“No thanks, Mr. Ruiz. I’m driving later.”
“Looks like you’re stuck with the fancy wine,” Jenn said as they returned to the table.
“It seems so.” He set down the cup and told Sam, “Your mom’s excited for you to come home. She’s been asking about you more and more these past few days.”
Jenn gave Sam’s hand a squeeze. He had been trying so hard with Barbara, an uphill battle with her depression only worsening as fall turned to winter. It would mean a lot that his mother was thinking about him.
“That’s good,” Sam said. “I’m glad she’s holding up all right.”
“Anything else new, Gary?” Jenn asked.
“Well, it snowed again last night. That makes three times this week. I’ve never seen this much so early in the season. Not even close.”
“Great.” Jenn used to love the winter; it was one of the reasons she chose NAU over the University of Arizona in Tucson and Arizona State University in Tempe. Now she feared it. Was this how the first settlers in this part of the country felt? “What about the flu?”
Gary’s eyes roamed away like they always did when he was distressed or uneasy. “A few more cases, but we’ve got things under control.” Now he made eye contact. “Before you ask, we’re coming up with a plan to make sure nobody brings it home by accident. Well, Nicole’s coming up with a plan. Lots of handwashing, and Nicole might have to start living somewhere else for a while since she’s dealing with sick people. Whatever she decides on, I trust it’ll work.”
Jenn did, too. Nicole took her job as a nurse-in-training as seriously as Jenn took her job with the Militia, so she had no doubt Maria would be safe. Still, Jenn hated being threatened by an enemy she couldn’t see. She’d rather take on men with guns any day.
“I hope she doesn’t have to move out,” Sam said, “but I understand if she does. Let us know if there’s anything we can do.”
“Will do, Sam. Thank you. For now, I think you guys getting home will be more than enough. I haven’t seen Maria this excited in as long as I can remember.” He spoke directly to Jenn next. “
I told her about what happened to you. Most of it, anyway.”
“Why would you do that? She doesn’t need to know I was literally kidnapped and that if Freddie missed his shot by a few inches, he would’ve hit me instead.”
“Those are some of the parts I left out.” Gary massaged a muscle on his hand. Had he heard about what she did to Victor? He must have. The story had spread among the Militia like wildfire, probably thanks to Wyatt and his big mouth. Hopefully it wouldn’t reach Maria; she didn’t need to know that Jenn stabbed a man in the neck. Twice. “She was going to find out the broad strokes sooner or later, so I got the jump on it and told her myself. I’m only giving you the heads up so you can brace yourself for what I suspect will be lots of hugs and kisses and questions.”
Jenn was kind of looking forward to the hugs and kisses part. She loved Maria like a mother and couldn’t wait to see her again. “All right. Thanks for the warning.”
They watched Quinn bark some orders at her grunts, who rushed supplies from a tent to a nearby trailer. Gary slapped his thighs. “Well, I should find Sheriff Wilson.” He pointed at his wine. “Last chance, if either of you want this.”
“Nice try, Gary,” Jenn said.
He grumbled and pushed himself out of his seat. “I think we’re convoying up to Flagstaff with your platoon, so I’ll come check in when we’re ready to head out.”
“Okay. Have fun with your diplomacy.”
“I will.” He collected his cup and held it in the air like he was offering a cheers. “You can’t ever say I didn’t make sacrifices for the greater good.” With that, he forced down a small sip, screwed up his face, and coughed.
Jenn laughed at him. “I’m sure this one will go down in the history books.”
“It better.” He sauntered off, taking a moment to exchange pleasantries with Quinn on his way to the barricade.
“That’s a shame about the wine,” Sam said. “Kevin would’ve been foaming at the mouth about it. He’s such a snob.”
Jenn recalled the empty wine rack at the cabin in Payson. The thieves who ransacked the place must have stolen Kevin’s collection. “Honestly, it’s good for Gary to drink that. He needs to get off his crappy Canadian beer and try something new.”
“Might be a while before we have much to choose from. I’m surprised the sheriff still had wine. Ed’s on his last few ounces of bourbon.”
“Maybe, but who says we can’t make our own beer someday? There’s a ton of old breweries in Flag. We could get one of those up and running again.”
“Someone’s feeling optimistic today.”
“Yeah, so? Why not?” She left her chair, sat on his lap, and interlinked her fingers with his. “New River and the Major were hanging over our heads for months, and now they’re dealt with. I mean, there’s the flu, but other than that, we’re looking okay, right? We’re mostly set up to keep warm, and the woodcutting crews are working nonstop. I’ve helped Gary with his calculations for rationing like fifty times. We’ll just barely make it to next year’s harvest if nothing crazy happens.” She laid her head atop his. “I also have a boyfriend who risks his life to save me. What more could I ask for?”
“Boyfriend,” he repeated flatly. “I hate that word. Boyfriend. Girlfriend, too.”
“Um, okay. This is news to me. Since when?”
“Recently, I guess. When I first found out you were missing, I was trying to get into the operations tent and—”
“I knew it!” she blurted out. “I always imagined you busting in there and giving everyone what for.”
“I wouldn’t say I did either of those things.” He asked, “Are you going to let me finish my story or not?”
“Sorry.” She ran her fingers through his beard and decided she would drag him to their old house for some proper private time later tonight. The thought sent butterflies soaring in her stomach. “Please, continue.”
“Like I was saying, when Quinn told me you were missing, I went to the operations tent to find Liam, and some Guard soldiers wouldn’t let me in. I tried telling them you were my girlfriend, and the word just stung. It wasn’t enough. Six months ago, sure, it was fine, but I feel like we’re past being boyfriend and girlfriend, if that makes any sense.”
“I know what you mean. When I was locked up in that horse stall, all I could think about was getting back to you. I was afraid I’d—” The rest of the sentence caught in her throat, so she joked, “You could start calling me your partner. That sounds more official than girlfriend, doesn’t it?”
He moved some hair out of her face, then said, sheepishly but with a smile, “Or wife.”
She expected the word to frighten her, or at least catch her off guard, but it didn’t. When she repeated it in her head, it sounded natural. Yes, she was only twenty, but deep in her heart, she knew that she and Sam were forever. All they had gone through over the past month only brought those feelings to the forefront. This world might be dark, bleak, and full of death and suffering, but the one true bright spot remained Sam. The prospect of spending their lives together gave her hope for the future in a way nothing else could.
“Wife,” she said playfully and poked him in the chest. “I could get on board with that.”
* * *
Desolation 5: Night Before Dawn is available on Amazon.
Click here to download!
A mother fights to reunite with her son.
The only thing in her way is the end of the world.
Ground Zero tells the story of how Allison and Charlie survive the nuclear attack on Albuquerque, New Mexico. It is free and exclusive for subscribers to my newsletter.
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Afterword
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed As Darkness Falls (or not), I invite you to leave a short review on Amazon, Goodreads, and/or BookBub. Reviews help me reach a wider audience and become a better author, and I read every single one of them.
First off, thanks as always to Gaby Michaelis, who continues to play an invaluable role in the production of these stories. Thanks also to Covers by Christian and Deranged Doctor Design for the cover art and text branding, respectively. I should also thank my wife, who I’m sure is growing tired of hearing about all the research I do for my books. But at least we know how to build a wood stove from a beer keg now.
I’ve been asked a few times if the COVID-19 pandemic occurs in the Desolation universe. The answer is no. I began writing Desolation in early 2019, and by the time the first wave really hit, I was halfway through The Wolves Within and had plotted out most of As Darkness Falls. While the consequences of the pandemic—widespread unemployment, the accelerated decline of brick-and-mortar retail, an increased flow of wealth away from the middle class and toward the economic elite—presage the prewar world of Desolation in some unsettling ways, I decided against incorporating COVID-19 into the books’ backstory simply because we don’t know how this whole scenario is going to play out.
As a fairly serious student of history, I believe we need a good twenty or twenty-five years of hindsight in order to fully understand how any event fits within its proper context. For example, only now are we beginning to see how massively 9/11 transformed the United States and the West in terms of politics and culture. Will COVID-19 be a blip or a watershed? At the moment, it very much feels like the latter, but only time will tell.
So all in all, you can think of Desolation as occurring in an alternate timeline that splits off from our own in mid-2019.
Desolation 5: Night Before Dawn sees Flagstaff continuing to deal with New River flu, confronting the peak of nuclear winter, and defending against a new, strange, and terrifying external threat. It is available now on Amazon (click here to download).
About the Author
I was born and raised in the mountains of British Columbia, Canada. After earning a master’s degree in military history and spending a good chunk of my twenties studying the British Army in the First World War, I returned to BC and began writing fiction. Nowad
ays, I’m a husband, a pet owner, and the commissioner of my fantasy baseball league (though sadly not the champion).
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