by Anna Oney
Psycho, she thought. She bit her bottom lip and shook her head. Be positive, damn it. Positive.
The two men halted about three feet from Fawn and her companions. Instead of their faces drawing Fawn’s attention, it was the circular patch on the right side of each of their chests. It read, NWA in black thread.
“What does NWA stand for?” she blurted out.
“Fawn,” Pete scolded.
“It’s a legitimate question.”
Pete ignored her and turned his attention back to the two men.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m Pete.” He stepped forward and offered his hand. The shorter man accepted and shook Pete’s hand vigorously. “These three are Clancy, Laken, and Hunter. Sorry for my sister.”
“No trouble at all,” the shorter man replied and swiped his hand through the air.
“Are you the man who was doing all the talking?” Pete asked. “Back at our community?”
“Yes, sir,” he said, dipping his cap. “I’m the one and only Commander Byron Asher.”
Fawn noticed how he put emphasis on the word, “commander.”
The one and only? she thought, raising her brow. Well, hell, I declare.
“This gentleman behind me here,” Asher continued, bringing the taller man forward, “is my right-hand man, Logan Sneed. Most of us call him Big Sneed.”
Big Sneed said nothing. All he did was stare.
Fawn glared at Pete.
“Am I free to ask my question now?”
“Let’s get some lunch.” Asher clapped his hands together. “We’ve got a table set up for you all. We can discuss while we eat. Sound good?”
The enthusiastic nods from her comrades were more than what Fawn could handle.
I think I just vomited a little.
Asher and Big Sneed led Fawn and her companions toward the tent they’d exited. The commander spoke the entire time, moving his hands in such a way that dizzied Fawn. Nothing of what he said registered with her. Pete, Clancy, Laken, and even Hunter, already seemed won over. Before they’d met these uniformed strangers, Fawn would’ve never described them as naive.
No matter Hunter’s persistence for her to join his side, Fawn lagged behind and observed all she could. When they’d first arrived, no one stood guard outside the tents, but as they drew nearer, Fawn noticed two men had taken up posts outside of every one.
Hiding something, are we?
Each guard clutched their automatic rifles and stared straight ahead until Fawn passed them.
Hunter was so engrossed with whatever Asher was saying that he didn’t seem to notice.
Laken glanced over her shoulder, slowing her stride to match that of Fawn’s.
“Looks like they’ve never laid eyes on a creature like you,” she whispered, once Fawn had reached her side. “Be careful.”
Asher stopped at the entrance of the tent and turned to face his guests.
“Here we are,” he said, and held open the tent flap. “Go on in.”
Big Sneed left Asher’s side, making his way to the back of the group. The butt of his rifle collided with Fawn’s elbow as he brushed past her.
Fawn cut her eyes back at him.
Jerk.
Laken grasped Fawn’s forearm.
“Be careful around him, especially,” she whispered. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since we arrived.”
Fawn nodded and kept her gaze forward.
One at a time, they filed inside. A long table with foldout chairs stood before them.
“Everybody take a seat,” Asher said, and turned his attention to Big Sneed, who stood in the back. “Go fetch the servers.”
Big Sneed saluted and clicked his heels together before exiting the tent.
Fawn sat between Hunter and Laken, across the table from Pete and Clancy.
“Sir, yes sir,” Fawn whispered, nudging Laken’s elbow. “Are these guys for real?”
“Looks like it.”
“Ladies,” Asher said, and removed his cap. “If I can have your attention. We’re about to start.”
The commander had brown hair with patches of grey scattered throughout his scalp. A jagged scar stretched down the side of his face. He’d either survived a fierce brawl or a battle. Fawn never trusted a survivor until she learned what they’d done to stay above ground. Along with his scar, his deep-set eyes and thick eyebrows made him seem more menacing.
A waitstaff of five, slender men entered the tent with incomprehensible grace, baring expressionless faces. Fawn couldn’t help but gawk at them as though they’d floated in on a cloud. They carried plates, glasses, and napkins. Their hair was slicked back, and their jaws were shaven. Their khaki pants, and forest-green, button-down shirts had been ironed to pristine condition. There wasn’t a sloppy one in the group, which seemed to make Hunter feel self-conscious.
“You’re staring,” he whispered, pinching Fawn’s side.
“Yeah,” she said, and pinched him back. “Have you seen a cleaner bunch?”
“I’m not clean enough for you?”
“Well,” she replied. She grinned and tipped her head to the side. “Now that you mention it.”
Asher cleared his throat, drawing their attention.
“These are our waiters. As you can see, they’re not fit for soldiering. We all have our places here.”
I’m just as skinny as these men, and a foot shorter, she thought. Has he already assumed that I’m the weakest link?
“Go ahead boys,” Asher continued, motioning toward the table. “Get to serving.”
They were young, but definitely not young enough to be referred to as “boys.”
If he calls me “girl” one time, she thought, I’m leaving.
Laken brushed her elbow against Fawn’s.
“Doesn’t look like he has much respect for those he considers lesser men,” she softly said, raising her brows.
“Not at all,” Asher cut in, having overheard Laken’s comment. “I have respect for everyone, especially those who serve us. They should know how important they are.”
Fawn paid close attention to the face of the waiter that provided her with a plate and glass. The eyeroll and open mouth brought on by Asher’s statement had Fawn struggling to contain her amusement. She failed, and a light giggle and snort escaped her. She prayed it had gone unnoticed.
Pete widened his eyes, kicking her foot beneath the table.
“Sir,” Big Sneed interjected from the entrance of the tent. “Food is on its way. I see them now.”
Thank God, Fawn thought, grateful for the distraction.
“It’s about time,” Asher replied, checking his watch.
The commander drummed his fingers across the surface of the table and whistled an elaborate tune.
I don’t understand what compels a grown man to whistle, she thought, wishing she could cover her ears without it being blatantly obvious that she was annoyed.
Big Sneed held open the flap for the two women Fawn had noticed slicing bread. Each carried a tray stacked with flat, circular pieces of meat and bread.
The older of the two women carried herself in a hunched way. She had a drawn, weathered face that looked as though it had experienced its share of scorning. The younger girl’s icy-blonde hair was slicked back into a tight bun. She looked to be at least twenty years younger than her partner. A pale-green bruise adorned her cheek.
The younger girl leaned between Fawn and Laken’s shoulders, placing the tray before them.
Poor girl can’t be older than seventeen, Fawn thought, and placed her hand on the girl’s forearm. She’s shaking.
These women weren’t happy and, at best, the waiters were annoyed. At that moment, Fawn had more in common with the servants than she did with the man sitting at the head of the table.
“Thank you for the food,” Fawn said, peering at the girl’s nametag, “Noelle.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am.”
Fawn could tell a lot about a person from their eyes. Noelle had doe-like
, silver, worried eyes that didn’t change when she spoke.
“How’d you get the shiner?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, ma’am,” Noelle replied, her bottom lip trembling. “I’m just clumsy.”
Standard battered victim’s response, Fawn thought. Wonder which one of these jerks is beating on this girl.
“Be careful,” she said, gently patting Noelle’s forearm. “I wouldn’t want you getting another.”
Noelle looked to the older woman who’d finished placing her tray on the table. The woman nodded anxiously toward the exit. Together, they ducked their chins, and rushed toward the flap of the tent where Big Sneed stood. As the older woman passed by him, the tensing of her shoulders sent them an inch higher than they were before. Noelle wasn’t permitted to pass as easily as Big Sneed latched his hand onto her arm.
The force he used to pull her toward him propelled Fawn from her chair.
“Hey,” she exclaimed, slamming her palm on the table. “That’s enough!”
Big Sneed shot Fawn a grin and whispered something to Noelle that made her flinch. With a flick of his wrist, he sent her cowering off.
“Fawn,” Pete scolded, looking to Asher apologetically, and then back to his sister. “Sit. Down.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Asher interjected, baring a seemingly forced smile that showed minimum teeth. “I apologize. Big Sneed is a little rough around the edges,” he said, glaring in Big Sneed’s direction. “He’ll answer for his behavior later on.”
Hunter grasped Fawn’s wrist, pulling her gaze toward his.
“Come on, Fawny,” he whispered, grazing the pad of his thumb across the top of her hand. “Come back to me.”
Fawn peered into Hunter’s pleading eyes and gave in. His fingers stayed intertwined with hers until she sat down. He seemed aware of the signs that had Fawn and Laken on alert.
Took you long enough, she thought, as he kissed the palm of her hand.
“Now,” Asher continued, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s dig into these juicy hamburgers, shall we?”
Hamburgers? she thought, picking at the patty of meat.
Fifteen minutes after Asher had shone them how to assemble their hamburgers, Pete and Clancy exchanged pleasantries with their host. Fawn, Laken, and Hunter busied themselves with scarfing down their hamburgers. Every now and then, when Fawn came up for air, she’d catch the tail end of their conversation. As far as she could tell, it bounced between family and the founding of each community. It gave her a small sense of relief that Asher hadn’t begun fishing for information about their weaponry.
Maybe I was too quick to judge, Fawn thought, as she assembled her second burger and sipped at her water.
“So, what does NWA stand for?” she asked and took a bite.
Sucking at his teeth, Asher leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table.
“New World Army.”
“Army?” Hunter said, ditching the bread, and biting into his third patty. “What exactly is y’all’s mission?”
Asher grinned, tapping the table with his finger.
“To restore this country to what it once was.”
“I think that’s just great,” Clancy interjected, clapping his hands. “Just great!”
Give me a break, Fawn thought, as she finished the last of her second burger.
“How do you mean to do that?” Laken asked, rubbing her full stomach.
“First,” Asher replied, rising from his chair, “we plan to restore the electricity.”
“Sixty-three years is a hell of a long time to be disconnected,” Laken countered, leaning back in her chair.
“How do we come into play?” Pete asked, pushing his plate forward.
“We’ve made our way from state to state, and city to city,” Asher replied, strolling around the table. “We’ve compiled all smaller towns into one. You all’s area is the last on the list.”
“Go on,” Clancy urged and nodded.
“Our mission is to establish a relationship — a working relationship,” Asher said, placing his hand on Fawn’s shoulder. “Big Sneed!” he called. “Bring us a map!”
Seconds after he’d exited the tent, Big Sneed returned, clutching a crumbled, folded piece of paper.
“Unfold it for us, will you?” Asher asked, squeezing Fawn’s shoulder before taking his hand from her flesh. “And hold it up.”
Without question, Big Sneed did as he was told, and then stood stoic, staring straight ahead.
“This,” Asher said, “is a map of the United States.”
“What’re the red dots?” Pete asked, leaning forward.
“They’re indicators for the voltage transformers we’ve reconstructed in each state.”
Fawn’s skepticism had reached its peak.
“So, you’re saying all these states have power?” she asked.
“Not yet,” Asher said flatly. “We have specialists working day and night to restore the grid in Austin. That’s the last piece of the puzzle. While they’re doing that, our mission is to prepare you for the new world. After all, we are the government, and we’re here to help.”
As Fawn mulled over her next retort, a cardinal flew in and landed on the middle of the table. Smiling, Fawn wondered if it was the same bird that had stopped by her tepee three months before. Her smile was diminished by the sight of Asher backhanding the creature out of the way. The bird stumbled forward and had trouble taking flight. Once its fluttering wings were in synch, it made a staggered departure.
Fawn’s opinion of Asher had been sealed.
“Tell me, Commander,” Fawn said. “What would you do if someone like me were to ride up to your camp unexpectedly? Would you open fire?”
“Fawn,” Pete interrupted, his eyes darting anxiously between her and Asher.
“Look at you,” Asher said, cocking his head as he folded his arms across his chest. “You’re a fighter. Sure, you’re small, but you’re lean and strong.” His compliments were burned to ash as soon as the words, “Sweetheart, I’d bring you in and make a good soldier out of you, for sure,” escaped his mouth.
Sweetheart? I’m not some little brat with pigtails.
Fawn found that word offensive. A manipulation tool used by arrogant men to try and woo women. Unbeknownst to this stranger, he had again poked the irritable beast inside her. If someone made the mistake of calling her “sweetheart,” they were swiftly corrected. Hunter couldn’t even get away with it. A word like that shouldn’t be used to describe the most self-sustaining woman with a bow.
“You can’t hide the truth,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “No matter how sweet-sounding the words.”
Pete rose from his seat with such force that it sent his chair struggling to keep its legs balanced. He strode around the table.
“I need to speak to my sister alone for a couple of minutes,” he said, pulling at Fawn’s arm. “Is that okay with you, Commander?”
“Sure,” Asher said, motioning toward the exit. “Take all the time you need.”
As they passed through the tent’s flap, Pete uttered a vast number of obscenities under his breath. He tugged at Fawn’s arm until they were well out of earshot of the tent.
Pete took an exasperated breath, thrusting his hand in the air.
“You’ve got to stop!”
“I’ve never met a bigger piece of sh—”
“You can’t make that harsh of an assessment after only a few traded words. You’re impossible!”
“You’re such a hypocrite.”
“Oh?”
“Yes! What about the blind man?”
“Enough about the blind man, okay? You’re obsessed with the blind man! He wouldn’t have been able to contribute anything to Back Wood. These people can. And right now, they’re probably thinking that you’re far more difficult than you’re letting on.”
“If I cared about what every jackass thought of me, I wouldn’t be a very productive person now, would I?”
“Please,” he
said, suddenly on the brink of tears. “Just-just give it a chance.”
For the first time, Fawn saw Pete as a desperate man. One with the devil in his ear. To Pete, the newcomers were a sign. A sign that an easier, perhaps longer, life for his children had arrived.
“Think of Back Wood,” he continued, his glistened gaze switching between the NWA’s weaponry and stocked food pantries. “This could be us one day. Well equipped, well fed.”
“Brother, I’m sorry. I can’t ignore what’s in front of me. We were taught—”
“It’s time we’ve learned something new.”
Both siblings were born with an absurd amount of stubbornness, but Fawn was certain she was right.
“I’m done talking,” she said, brushing past his shoulder. Losing an argument always gave her a sudden urge to flee. “Do what you want. Continue this charade.”
“Sister,” he called after her. “Wait!”
Fawn stood outside the tent, but hesitated to enter as she heard Laken’s rattled voice from within.
“Preventative care?” she said. “Medicines? Vaccines? D-does this mean my boys could’ve been saved?”
“Depending on what ailed them,” Asher replied, “yes.”
“First it was pneumonia,” Fawn interjected, emerging inside the tent behind Asher. She spotted a tall, slender man who must have joined the group during she and Pete’s absence. “But then it turned into something far worse.”
“Same thing happened to our kin,” Pete said, almost tripping over the tent’s flap as he barreled through. “They had difficulty breathing, fever. Then there was the blood.”
“Sounds like sepsis,” the man said, as he stepped toward them. “Depending on how advanced, we could’ve saved their lives. You must be Pete and Fawn,” he said, and smiled, looking over the siblings’ hands before shaking them. “I’m Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Wenze.”
After Dr. Wenze’s appearance, Fawn was certain they’d acquired Laken’s vote. Hunter’s as well. The telltale signs no longer mattered. From the beginning of the meeting, Pete and Clancy didn’t seem to require any persuasion. As far as her comrades were concerned, these men had the ability to prevent death. Fawn’s skepticism remained, but she’d have to be careful when voicing her concerns, for the meeting ended with her comrades considering themselves members of the NWA.
