Beyond All War

by Eric Keller

  Before he could express this to Griff, Hale walked inside, and everyone grew quiet. He stepped to the front of the room, the wall behind him blackened with char from a recent fire. He calmly said, “Alright, I’ll get right to the point. Everyone’s mainly back on their feet so the patrol will soon be heading back to Thule.”

  A man from the back called out, “Better get eating double-time then.”

  This got a few laughs which Jacob did not understand. Another called out, “Hope them women back home all got a good rest.”

  More laughs.

  Hale cut off the laughter by raising a hand and continuing, “Ok, it’ll make for a long trip but, by using that firewood cart and the mules, I think we can take all the supplies-”

  “What about us?”

  The shouted question came from the back of the crowd. A couple men began to tell the interrupter to shut up, but Hale interjected and said, “Fair question, Marvin.”

  “It is, and we could use a fair answer.”

  Hale took in a deep breath before saying, “Right. Unfortunately, it’s not all that simple, but I decided it’s not right for us to free you all and then leave you with nothing. Anyone who wants to come back to Thule with us can. Otherwise, you can remain here, and we’ll leave some perishable supplies to help get you through to harvest.”

  Confused chatter filled the room. One of the patrolmen loudly called up to Hale, “We can’t bring ’em back. Harrison won’t allow adding a bunch of useless mouths.”

  Again, Hale lifted his hands, “Alright Clarence, that’ll be my problem, not yours. You newcomers need to appreciate that when we get back to Thule, the leader of the Bank may not accept you. You’ll have to prove that you have value and if you can’t do that you might be left outside. Every Banker needs to pull their own weight and then some. I won’t lie, life there is not exactly easy. I suggest you speak with myself and the men from the patrol to get a sense of what coming back with us will mean to you. You may choose to stay here or strike out to on your own instead of trying to join with us.”

  With that Hale stepped down from the front of the room and people broke into conversations. Jacob looked at Griff who said, “Ok, you were right. I guess we can head home.”

  “Problem of not knowing where to go still’s a problem though.”

  Tina added, “I don’t know. That guy sounds like he’ll help us maybe. We ask how to get to the river and head upstream ‘til the scenery gets familiar. Maybe they’ll even let us take some food and gear.”

  That made sense to Jacob but recent experiences kept him concerned for Malden, he said, “Right, right. But I’m worried, I mean these guys are better than the others but they’re still killers and looters. We start asking about how to get home, they’re going to ask questions and I think they’ll realize there’s stuff at Malden worth going to get.”

  Tina said, “Might be right. But, we could stay here for a while, at least there’ll be shelter to rest up in, and then we can figure out how to find the river on our own.”

  The torture of the march remained centered in his mind. And, even without kidnappers, the idea of wandering around in the woods, starving and freezing again did not appeal to Jacob. He said, “I’m not sure, we’d be pretty lost out there.”

  Griff nodded. “You know, I gotta say when that guy said we could go with them, the thought of seeing Thule struck me as interesting. We could see the ruins of the legend. Rest up there and more carefully figure out how to make it back home. It might mean waiting longer, but it’s better than starving to death in the woods. Plus, it’d make for a pretty cool story when we get home.”

  An intriguing idea but Jacob remained wary. “I don’t know, you wanna trust these guys?”

  Tina added, “Yeah, I don’t like being around strangers like this.”

  Griff shrugged, “No, but I don’t want to stumble around in the woods starving to death either. We’ve all had enough of that lately.”

  Jacob was pondering his response when one of the patrolmen sat down across the battered table from them. Through a mouthful of the pasta he spooned into his face from a massive bowl, the man asked, “Hi there, you three feeling better today?”

  For a second, Jacob considered their new company. More slender than the others with straight dark hair. Predictably, Griff answered for them, “Yeah, quite a bit better. I guess we owe you guys for saving us from those guys.”

  Setting down the heavy bowl the man handed them each a fork and said, “Good timing for sure. I’m Clarence.”

  The three awkwardly introduced themselves, Tina, unable to even look up from the table as she muttered her name. However, they all eagerly shared his rich breakfast as Clarence asked, “What happened to that old guy who came in with you?”

  Griff said, “Not sure, he was a trapper those guys caught on our way here. Think he took off, back out into the woods I suppose.”

  Clarence nodded and grunted his understanding as he ate.

  Chewing the wonderful food, Jacob nervously asked, “You’re from Thule?”

  Throughout his life, Jacob was enthralled by thoughts of Thule. His father and Uncle Leo would sit around the table in the dark nights of winter or out on the porch in the cool air of spring and endlessly discuss all the amazing luxuries they used to enjoy. Jacob would ask questions about his forgotten hometown and bask in all the older men would tell him. The idea of actually seeing the mythical place never occurred to Jacob as a possibility, but now it seemed shockingly close.

  Clarence swallowed a mouthful and said, “Yeah. I’m the second in command there.”

  “Really? Hale is in charge?”

  “No, he’s only running this patrol. There’s a brilliant guy named Harrison back at Thule who leads us. I’m his right-hand man. Together we decide who gets in and who doesn’t. You guys thinking of coming back with us?”

  Griff quickly said, “Considering our options.”

  After a pause for more eating, Clarence asked, “Where you come from?”

  Clearly, they could not tell these men the truth about their home. So, with no reason to come up with a new story, Griff told an abbreviated version of the tale about them being sent out to find food by their sickly parents when the boat took them far away. For a long time, Clarence looked at him and Griff and then he said, “You two don’t look like brothers.”

  Jacob did not understand this, he did not think brothers looked any different than any other people. He asked, “What do you mean?”

  Suspicion filled the man’s face as he answered, “He’s a curly redhead, you’re dark and taller. Obviously strange to have that big a difference in siblings.”

  Griff shrugged, “Don’t know about all that, but I know we’re brothers.”

  A laugh which somehow sounded both fake and chilling was followed by, “Maybe your mom spent some time with the mailman.”

  With no idea what he was talking about, they all gave bad fake laughs of their own. Apparently realizing they should change the topic away from their lie, Tina asked, “What’s Thule like?”

  “Thule? It’s pretty much nothing but rubble that nature’s spent the last ten years growing over. But, we’ve carved out a nice bubble of civilization. We got an entire apartment building the Bombs missed.”

  As they ate the pasta, Clarence enthusiastically told them about the place, focus on the abundance of not only food but of comradeship, hinting about willing female company. With their stomachs churning through the unusually heavy meal, surrounded by impressive men joking and laughing, the Malden residents listened intently, soaking in the stories of a place they thought of as myth. Finally, done describing, Clarence, asked, “So, you got any skills that’ll make it easy f
or me to recommend letting you in?”

  Hearing about Thule and all it had, the idea of not going with them faded somewhat. Even though he desperately wanted to get back home, Jacob told himself it presented a possible opportunity. They could go and learn about this other civilization and, upon returning to Malden, they could tell everyone all about it, perhaps bring new ideas, maybe even make some allies of a sort.

  Plus, Jacob had to admit, spending time in a well-supplied group seemed far superior to more cold nights wandering alone in the woods. Jacob shared a look with Griff and, his lifelong friend managed to express the same thought with a slight shrug. Tina, however, shook her head slightly with a confused and worried look on her face.

  Before the trio could come up with a response, the captive who spoke up, stopped at their table, putting his palms down and leaning over them. “What’s your name?”

  His stomach immediately tensing with worry, Jacob answered, “Jacob.”

  “Well, Jacob, I wanted to let you know, before these guys leave with all our food, that you and your friends are not welcome to stay here with us. I suggest you tag along with them because, once they’re gone, there will be promptly be nothing for you three here. Understand?”

  Jacob, tired and overwhelmed by all that had happened, was not sure he entirely understood what the stranger was implying but the words were abrupt and harsh, making it clear how he should reply. He said, “I understand.”

  With that, the captive gave a quick nod and strode back into the crowded room. Clarence, plucking up the now empty bowl, stood and laughed, “Guess that’ll limit your options somewhat.”

  . . .

  Enjoying thoughts of seeing Kinma again, Hale eagerly packed his travel pack, carefully wrapping two absconded boxes of cookies for her in his extra shirt. Milo knocked and walked into the small room. He immediately and exaggeratedly averted his eyes, pretending not to see the valuable supplies being squirreled away.

  “Think we’re all set for dawn, boss.”

  “Great. Any change in the tagalongs?”

  “Nope, all the captives decided they don’t want to come. They’re going to try to make a go of it here. Sounds like they dislike the idea of living under someone else’s control again after what happened here. Can’t blame ’em.”

  “And the new ones they were bringing in?”

  “That old timer they brought in took off on his own, disappeared back into the woods, so we don’t got to worry about him. I think those two young guys and the one-armed girl, the walking dead trio, are thinking of coming with us.”

  This surprised Hale. They seemed scared of everyone. He asked, “Really?”

  “Yeah, I think Clarence told them life in the Bank was nothing but parties and ice cream.”

  Hale figured, all in all, this was not a horrible outcome. The idea of dragging all the captives to Thule only to have Harrison turn them away or worse did not appeal to Hale. The news that Clarence apparently encouraged the kids to come troubled him as they seemed very naïve, plus, everything Clarence did worry him, especially when he did not understand his motivation.

  The boys were battered, but they were young and, by the time they made it back, they would be healthy enough Harrison might view them as worthwhile enough. The girl with the burn scars would likely be accepted simply because she was a youthful female, but Hale figured her treatment at the Bank would be especially unpleasant given the scars and amputation.

  Regardless, Hale figured he could get the three alone on the trip back to Thule and educate them about the realities of their choice. He could slip them supplies and convince them their best option was to disappear into the night with his help. That would allow them their freedom without anyone knowing he let a young woman go.

  Hale said, “Alright, like I said, leave some of the perishable food for those staying behind, maybe those wrinkled up carrots. Give ’em something to start off with.”

  “You think that’s necessary?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, do you think them slaves might be considering turning the tables on their former masters, making them into jerky?”

  Hale knew things would not go well for the remaining Preppers being left behind with their former slaves, but his mercy could only extend so far. He merely shrugged and said, “I’m gonna be glad to leave this messed up hell hole behind. Thule ain’t all rainbows and puppy dogs but at least no one’s getting eaten there.”

  Milo used his serious tone, “You know, at some point, we need to talk about what we gonna do when we get back.”

  Hale knew this was coming. “Once we’re on the road. I need some time to think about it now that this mess here is settled.”

  “Ok. But, I’ve been thinking already.”

  Throwing one of Milo’s usual jokes back at him, Hale asked, “Oh yeah? Did it hurt?”

  “Not too much. One idea kept coming through the fog: we might be better off if Clarence didn’t make it back with us. You know he’s going to be a problem no matter what we do. Plus, he’s almost as evil as Harrison. We could make it look like an accident or something, and then we’ve got one less enemy to worry about.”

  The reality of what they were discussing struck Hale again. A violent coup within the Bank meant people, people they lived and worked with, getting hurt and killed. He pulled on his parka and said, “I’m still hoping for something more, well, subtle, I guess. A compromise of some sort.”

  Milo shook his head and said, “You know how crazy Harrison is, I doubt he’s the type to make any sort of sensible deal.”

  Moving to the door, Hale said, “You’re probably right. Let me think on it tonight. I’ve got to go relieve Wilson on watch.”

  As patrol leader, Hale did not need to take a turn on watch, but he always did. It improved morale, and he enjoyed the peace and quiet.

  Clapping him on the shoulder as he walked by, Milo added, “Ok, but now I’m actually worried that, with all this thinking we’re doing, we might actually end up hurting ourselves for real.”

  . . .

  Setting the book on her chest, Louisa let out a sigh. She had read the novel before, a half-dozen times at least, and it was unable to distract her. Downstairs she could hear people talking, probably doing those odd jobs that never seemed to get finished like knitting scarves, darning socks, and mending tools. She used to enjoy these communal past times especially when it resulted in something useful being made or fixed.

  Now, however, her mind would not quiet during repetitive work. Before long she would be missing Jacob or worrying about Jacob or both. Books were a better distraction, but only barely, they always failed to hold her interest before long. For a while, she tried working on her crafts, weaving a basket out of willow branches, but she always ended up realizing the best part of those hobbies was getting to show her silly projects to Jacob.

  She got off the narrow bed. Walked three paces one way and three paces the other. Stared out the window. Walked three paces, thought about opening the door, walked three paces the other way. She could go downstairs to join the others, however, everyone looked at her oddly now and she knew they twisted the conversation to make sure not to upset her. She did not like her grief ruining their night. She thought about going to see Morreign but she was at her cabin that morning, and another visit would be imposing.

  Louisa sat back on the bed and realized the rare problem of boredom used to be alleviated by merely going to find Jacob. Her hands went to her face, and she began to cry. Not fair. A thousand times a day she saw something, heard something or thought something which made her immediately plan to tell Jacob about it when she saw him only to then have to realize she would not be able to see him. Her whole life, since ea
rly childhood, involved Jacob being with her, so it was no surprise that, now, everywhere she looked at was a memory or thought of him. Her life became a throbbing agony of repeatedly remembering then missing.

  The tears dried up fairly quickly, the crying jags still started easily, but they lasted less time these days. As if her tear supply was running low and rationing was in effect. She laid back down, picking up the half-read book when there was a knock.

  She wiped her face with her sleeve and opened the door to reveal Sam. Louisa spent time with him when she was a child, learning the basics of survival from the silent teacher alongside all the other kids but, once she crossed into her teen years and no longer needed the lessons, she hardly spoke with him beyond polite greetings, figuring that was how he preferred things. Staring at her with stony, black eyes he said, “Full moon, lots of animals moving around. Going to see what I can catch. You should come help.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  JUNE 19, 2046

  DAY THREE THOUSAND SEVEN HUNDRED AND SIXTY-NINE

  Alcohol was technically banned in the Bank. An unpopular rule but, after a handful of unfortunate events, no one could logically dispute its necessity. Despite the rule, brewing of discrete batches of hooch occurred. Plastic buckets of fermenting fruit hidden under beds and in closets. Harrison surely knew of this practice, but Kinma figured he looked the other way to maintain morale so long as no one became a drunken problem.

  Today, however, Harrison ordered the Vikings to conduct a search of the building and confiscate all the alcohol. People became deathly worried as rumours circulated about Harrison cracking down but, instead of punishment, everyone received an invitation to the common room to partake of the confiscated goods. Before the indulgence started, Harrison, with an unusual grin plastered on his face, explained that, since the patrol was undoubtedly gorging on the supplies they found, those working hard back home should also get to enjoy themselves.