“As long as you think so,” Abby said, shaking her head but smiling. They kissed each other before following behind the rest of their group.
***
More men and military equipment continued to arrive throughout the rest of the day and through the night: Abrams tanks, Apache gunships, V-22 Ospreys, MRAP and MAT-V troop transport vehicles, and more. Crates of ammunition were opened up and their contents distributed liberally.
The senior enlisted leaders of every platoon, company, and battalion all ran battle drills while commanding officers received instructions from General Sloan. He intended to make an example of this Edmund, should he refuse to surrender, and to send a message to the Cubans regarding what they could expect if they intended to hang onto their gains in Florida.
But Abby and her squad were not included in any of this. They slept in late that morning, ate a hearty breakfast with the President, and relaxed until the time came to load into a couple of MAT-V’s and drive to old Comiskey. The MAT-V was basically a gigantic, armored four-wheeler that carried four people plus one turret gunner.
Waiting for clearance to leave, Abby sat in the back of one of these steel beasts next to Hiamovi, while Jax held the vehicle commander’s seat up front and Miguel took the wheel. Chad was up in the turret, behind the M2 Browning .50 caliber machine gun. Abby shrugged her shoulders, trying to adjust her plate carrier. It’d been years since she had worn body armor like this so it was a little uncomfortable.
“Never liked being in these things,” Jax said, speaking loudly to be heard over the noise of the massive idling engine as he looked over his map. “Just a giant steel coffin.”
“My dad felt the same way,” Abby replied. She pointed down at her Belleville boots and added, “Said he’d rather take the Belleville Express, and boy did he think that was funny every time he said it.”
Everyone joined her in chuckling. “Your dad sounds like a grunt after my own heart,” Jax said.
“And the kind of grunt who would be a huge pain in my ass,” put in Miguel. “You guys are fuckin’ reckless, you know."
Jax laughed again and replied, “We just do our job. The hazards come with the territory.”
“Hey, stop laughing down there!” Chad called from up top. “You know I don’t like feeling excluded from the fun. God, I fucking hate being in the turret.”
“That’s what you get for messing with the pepper shaker at chow this morning,” Hiamovi called up to him.
“Fuck you, ‘Movi. I was just trying to lighten the mood around here.”
“Quit your bitching,” Jax said without looking up from his map. “We’ll swap on the way back anyhow, and ‘Movi will be in the turret.”
“Alright, some back-of-the-bus time with Abs. I can dig it,” Chad teased.
Abby reached a gloved fist up and hit Chad in his junk, not hard enough to do any damage but hard enough to make her point.
The other occupants of the vehicle laughed, and Jax fist bumped Abby. “Alright, everyone lock it up,” he said. “Time to get serious, we’re rolling out.”
***
Before too long, the armored vehicles found themselves driving down the mostly empty streets of Chicago. Some few people were out on the sidewalks, but nothing like the crowds they saw the other day. Abby guessed that the people who lived here feared being caught in the middle of a battle and were busy preparing to shelter inside their homes.
Miguel made the last turn that would bring the three-vehicle convoy up to the chosen meeting spot: an open parking lot across the street from U.S. Cellular Field, where the Chicago White Sox used to play. In the north parking lot, the home plate and batter’s box area of Chicago’s old Comiskey Park still lay, years after that stadium was demolished. And it was at the site of this baseball relic that Edmund had wanted to meet the President.
Thunk. Something struck the vehicle!
“The fuck was that?” Jax yelled up to Chad as the vehicle came to a sudden halt.
“Just a baseball!” Chad said.
Jax looked up ahead and saw some people gathered around the old Comiskey home plate across the parking lot, and sure enough one of them held a baseball bat. He shook his head and gestured for Miguel to continue.
The convoy rolled up into the open parking lot and put some distance between each vehicle before parking about one hundred feet away from the other group of people, though the vehicles remained idling. Several heavy armored doors swung open as everyone but the turret gunners and vehicle drivers stepped out into the cool spring air.
Abby left her rifle in the vehicle and went to stand next to Heammawihio, and then the two of them approached Edmund and his friends. The other party pretended not to notice the newcomers as one of the men continued to throw baseballs at Edmund, who stood in the batter’s box.
“Oh, you fucking whore!” Edmund screamed in his thick Irish accent as he swung and missed at a pitch. “Come on, right over the fuckin’ plate!”
“Right, boss!” the man yelled back. He grabbed another baseball from a large bucket next to him, and pitched this one to Edmund.
Edmund stepped into his swing and connected perfectly with the baseball. A loud crack reverberated through the air, and the baseball went soaring out of sight. “Ha! Fuck you, ball!” said Edmund as he pointed the bat at the rapidly departing baseball.
Edmund turned to face Abby and the others, pointing the Louisville Slugger at them. He checked his watch and said, “Precisely punctual. We’re off to a good start. And that’s good for you.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“How are you, Edmund?” Abby asked as she and Heammawihio approached the group of men.
“I’m good,” Edmund replied. He sauntered forward, holding the bat in one hand and resting it on his shoulder in a relaxed pose. “Hey listen, before we get started I wanted to apologize for getting angry with you the other day. I’ve got a terrible temper, and I don’t usually get mad at my friends but it happens sometimes. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. Believe it or not, a whole lot of people have done much worse things to me than you ever have,” Abby said, trying to keep the mood light.
Edmund laughed. “That’s funny, but also not so much. It breaks me heart to think that you’ve run in with worse men than Edmund. That’s scary.”
An awkward silence stretched for a couple seconds, just long enough for everyone to hear the distant roar of a jet engine. Edmund looked up and saw the outline of an AC-130 gunship circling high above them. He looked back down, noting the body armor on Abby and the others.
“Your friends don’t trust me, do they?” he asked with a wicked smile. “I’d be offended if that wasn’t smart of them.”
“They’re just being cautious, Edmund,” Abby said, waving her hand. “This is the President, and you know how the government gets about the President. Speaking of which, I think it’s time for introductions. Edmund, this is Heammawihio. Heammawihio, this is Edmund.”
“Pleasure,” said Edmund as he extended his free hand. “I’m Edmund, but don’t call me Ed or I’ll cut your fuckin’ tongue out.”
“Indeed,” Heammawihio replied as he shook Edmund’s hand. “You may call me Hector, if you wish.”
“Good, cause I’ve already forgotten whatever that long-ass name was.”
Heammawihio chuckled and said, “Most folks do.”
“You came here to talk, so let’s fuckin’ talk.”
“Well, Edmund, let me first say that I’m blown away by your city. Never in a million years would I have guessed that we’d find people living here, let alone living so well. This is impressive work.”
“Aye, a lot of goddamn work. My work.”
“Yes, your work indeed,” Heammawihio replied, following Abby’s coaching from the previous night about keeping any conversation light and complimentary.
“And now you’re gonna rip it away from me, aye?”
“No, actually I am not. I want you to keep your city.”
Edm
und narrowed his eyes. “But?”
“No ‘but’ is needed,” said Heammawihio, raising his hands in a friendly gesture. “You’ve done an incredible job getting Chicago back to a semi-civilized state, so it makes sense for you to remain in charge here. I’m going to keep moving east and once that is done, once all the state governments and offices have been restored, you’ll be named the first mayor of New Chicago.”
“Mayor?” Edmund said, spitting the word out of his mouth.
“Yes, the mayor. I don’t know if you remember, but before all this zombie business, the mayor of Chicago was actually one of the most influential people in the country, not counting United States Senators and the like.”
“And what about all my crimes? I’m sure our dear friend Abby has told you all about me and the things I’ve done.”
“Forgiven,” Heammawihio said. “This is a clean slate I’m offering, Edmund. You keep your city, your past is effectively wiped out, and nobody dies.”
“Why would you do this? What’s the catch?”
Heammawihio chuckled. “There is no catch. I’m doing this to avoid needless bloodshed. God knows we’ve had enough of that the past few years. I need strong, competent people running the country once we start getting things back to normal, and you certainly fit the bill.”
A distrustful sneer emerged on Edmund’s face as he stared at Heammawihio. After a pause he looked at Abby and said, “Who does this fuckin’ guy think he is, huh?”
Abby shrugged. “I think he just wants to settle this peacefully, Edmund. I do too. I don’t want to see you die over a pissing contest.”
Edmund nodded his head and turned his back on Heammawihio and Abby. He stepped back into the batter’s box behind him and motioned for the man with the bucket of baseballs to throw him another. The man did, and Edmund swung the bat and sent the ball sailing several blocks away.
The Raiders exchanged nervous glances with each other as Edmund swung at another baseball, missing this one and cursing loudly. Abby turned to look back at Hiamovi. He seemed worried, so Abby smiled and blew a kiss.
Crack! The sound of Edmund connecting with another baseball brought Abby’s attention back to the matter at hand. She watched him adjust his feet and ready his bat again. What goes on in that head of his, she wondered. It must be a terrifying place, knowing him as she did. Crack! Another hit that would have been a homerun in the stadium just across the road.
Abby hoped he was just venting his frustrations for a moment before accepting the deal. She’d told the truth a moment ago: she didn’t want Edmund to die. In years past, she sometimes imagined thrusting a knife through Edmund’s heart, or slitting his throat open like he’d done to her friend Diana. The thought of killing him would always bring a joyless smile to her face.
But since running into him again a few days ago, she simply couldn’t imagine doing anything like that. Even the thought of somebody else killing Edmund, a fate he certainly deserved, made her queasy. She didn’t understand these feelings at all, and though she hated this part of her that apparently liked Edmund, she didn’t know what to do about it. All she knew for certain was that she wanted him to accept this deal, for the sake of all the soldiers who would die as much as for his.
Crack! Edmund nailed another homerun and promptly tossed the bat aside. He walked back to Abby and Heammawihio with his hands on his hips and stood still for several seconds before opening his mouth to speak.
“No,” he said.
“No?” Heammawihio and Abby said in unison.
“You fuckin’ deaf? ‘No’ is my answer to your deal. You want me to be your mayor, dance on your fuckin’ puppet strings? Make me answer to you, aye?”
Heammawihio shrugged. “I mean, there’s some oversight, yes. But you’d be largely autonomous, and frankly I—“
“Fuck you!” Edmund screamed. “There’s your answer, now fuck off.”
Edmund turned on his heel and walked off, but Abby immediately jogged after him and got in his way.
“Edmund, wait! Wait a second!”
“Why are you even friends with these pricks?” Edmund demanded, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder.
“Because I am, okay? Why won’t you take this deal?”
“Because this is my fuckin’ city! Mine! Edmund’s! And it’s going to stay that fuckin’ way!”
“It will! You’ll still be in charge if you just accept our offer.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Edmund said as he bent down to retrieve his bat. “A clean slate, aye? Oh you can bet your sweet arse there’s a million fucking strings attached to that. A man like that doesn’t let a man like me off the hook entirely. No fuckin’ way.”
“But you don’t know that for sure. You’re being paranoid, Edmund.”
“Even if he means it, then that just makes him a fuckin’ idiot and someone I ain’t gonna follow.”
Abby scoffed. “Oh come on, now you’re just being stubborn.”
“No, why should I grovel before someone I don’t respect? I’m not gonna be a goddamn puppet or a stooge. I’d be mayor for, what, a few years? Then motherfuckers would be voting and shite, and do you think ol’ Edmund will get elected by these fucks? What do you think happens to me when no one needs me anymore? Think that clean slate is gonna mean a damn?”
“You can figure that out later. But for now the choice is clear. Do you really think you’ll be able to hold on to the city once the entire US military shows up to take it? Be practical, Edmund.”
“And that’s another damn thing!” Edmund hissed, stepping even closer to Abby and jabbing a finger in her face; she didn’t so much as flinch. “What fuckin’ right does that bastard have to take this city, huh?”
“They’re retaking the whole country, Edmund,” Abby replied. “This day was always going to come. You had to know that one day this country would try to bring things back to normal.”
“They abandoned this city! They didn’t even pack their shite before running away! They didn’t give a fuck about this city or the people here for years, but now that Edmund’s built something here, now that Edmund’s scraped together a real-ass city out of the fuckin’ mud, suddenly they want it back? Fuck them!”
“This isn’t about you! It’s about this city, and it doesn’t belong to you.”
“It belongs to me!” Edmund screamed. He paused to take a deep breath, then said, “I cleared the city of zombies. I got people back into homes and businesses. I got trading routes established, turned on the lights, hooked us up with running water. That’s why they can’t ‘retake’ Chicago. They gave it up!”
“But—“
“But nothing! Answer my question already: what right do they have to this city that I’ve restored? They’re the ones who stole it in the first place. At least when I took this land, nobody was here. I’ve got a better fuckin’ claim to this land than them! You’re a smart lass, Abby. You know I’m making good points here.”
Abby chewed on her lower lip. He was making good points. She shook her head and said, “Even if I agree with you, the fact remains that they’re going to take this city by force if you don’t take the deal being offered. Right or wrong, that’s what’s going to happen. And drop the innocent victim act, okay? You’re no saint yourself, Edmund. Your justice system here is appalling and in violation of so many human rights. It took one afternoon for me to see major problems with what’s going on here.”
Edmund laughed and said, “You think I give a fuck what’s in some old treaties and pacts about rights?”
“This isn’t about treaties and pacts, it’s about basic human rights! You don’t need to be freaking Gandhi to know what you did to those men the other day was wrong!”
“I’m in charge, I call the shots. If I say justice is served, then that’s that.”
“And that’s why you’re not a legitimate leader! You got electricity going and established a couple trade routes? Well whoop-di-doo for you! That’s not even half of what it takes to actually lead peop
le. You’re nothing but a two-bit thug only fit to lead a gang of marauders in a damn apocalypse.”
“So you do agree with those arseholes, aye? Can’t even see things my way for once?”
Abby clenched her fists and took her turn to raise her voice. “This is not about you! This is not about me! This is so much bigger than the two of us, you stubborn ass! People are going to die because you can’t get over your stupid pride, Edmund!”
“Good! Fuck ‘em!”
“That includes you, idiot.”
“Then I’ll die like a fuckin’ man fighting for what’s mine!”
“It’s not yours!”
“Fuck you!”
Staring daggers at each other, the two negotiators now stood nearly nose to nose. Edmund stood half a head taller than Abby and his knuckles tensed around the baseball bat in his hands, but she didn’t back down.
“You should get the fuck out of here, Abby,” Edmund whispered, “before I do something that I’ll really regret.”
“Take the deal.”
“No.”
“Do this for me. Please,” Abby said, trying a new tactic. It’d worked when she asked him to show mercy to his prisoner.
Edmund took a deep breath before responding. “Look, leading these dickheads in the Wild has been like riding a tiger, aye?” he whispered. “If I slackened my grip for a second, I’d be dead. And if I surrendered now, all these guys with all these guns would lose respect for me. They’d probably kill me the minute you’re gone.”
Abby’s eyes softened with a glimmer of hope. “You can come with me. My friends and I can protect you until order is restored.”
“Forget it, it’s too late to turn back now.”
“It’s never too late.”
Edmund actually glanced over at Heammawihio, who still stood silently with his hands clasped together behind his back. For a moment, he weighed his options, tried to imagine himself as the mayor. How bad could it be? He saw himself sitting at a big, fancy desk and making decisions for the city. He was still the man in charge and still someone respected. People who came before him would have to call him ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Mayor’ if they didn’t want to be tossed out on their ass.
His Name Was Zach | Book 3 | Their Names Were Many Page 23
