American Apocalypse Wastelands (39 page)

“Yeah.” Meadow Mills was the sheriff's town. “How many did we lose, Max?”

“Three civilians, none of them skilled. We'll probably lose the two who were working the tollbooth. That's a loss. One of the squad—that's a real loss. Losing Gunny is a pisser. Other than that we have three minor wounds. Not bad.”

I was bummed about Gunny. “He was a good guy.”

“Yeah. Plus, he knew what he was doing, which is rare these days.”

We had begun to gather a crowd. We could hear the comments and crying from where we stood. The three downed civilians had family, and they were still showing up. The pastor and Miss Edna had arrived. The militia had mustered. They were talking shit about what they
could have done, but it was obvious to me that more than a few were glad they were late.

People would look at us, start to approach, see what I had swinging from my hand, and decide it could wait.

“So tell me, G, did you have Freya in your head during all this?” Max asked.

“Yeah.” I thought for a couple seconds. “It was not a problem like you'd think it would be.”

Max grinned. “I'm surprised you noticed her—what with all that space she has in there to run around.”

“You're a funny man, Max.” We laughed, him more than me. I didn't realize until later that he hadn't said whether she had been in his head.

“G, what are you planning to do with it?” It took me a second to realize he was talking about Danny's head.

“Put it on a pole by the tollbooth. Maybe right next to the sign that says Welcome and lists all the clubs in town that no longer exist.”

He shrugged. “Sounds good. Go get cleaned and gear up again. After I deal with the grieving families and the town council, we're going for a ride.”

I let Max deal with the politics of the situation. I started walking to the station when I remembered I still had Danny to deal with. Or at least his head. I yelled at the militia who were standing around in a group. They had gone silent when I had walked by.

“Come here,” I said, pointing at one.

The one I yelled at looked and silently mouthed
Me?

“Yes, you.”

He walked unhappily toward me. I waited until he got about fifteen feet away and tossed him the head. “Catch.”

His hands went up automatically. He caught Danny cleanly but then dropped him.

“Make sure he gets cleaned up. Then I want you to put him on a stick by the Welcome sign next to the tollbooth.” As I walked away I heard him throwing up.

Must be some food poisoning going around
, I thought.

I headed to the station to clean up and see how Night was doing.

Donna met me inside. “She's asleep, G. I gave her a sedative.”

“How is she?”

She reached out and touched my arm. “She lost the baby. I'm sure of it.”

“I know. Can I see her?”

“Sure. We have her in the conference room. Try to let her sleep. I'm going to spend the night here. Just in case.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

I went in. They had spread some of the army surplus blankets on the table to pad it for her. She was asleep. I sat on the edge of the table watching her breathe for about five minutes. Then it was time to get ready.

I gave her a light kiss on the forehead. “Sleep tight, Night.” Saying that used to crack me up for some reason. It didn't today.

I left the room. Donna was waiting in ambush. “What about you? I know that can't be your blood or you would be dead.”

“I'm fine. Where's Freya?”

“I'm right here,” the kid said. Donna jumped. I was getting used to it.

“Want to go for a ride after I clean up?”

“Sure.”

“Donna, do me a favor?”

“Sure, G. Name it.”

“Go to the diner and have them make up some sandwiches—at least four. Freya, are you hungry?”

“For pancakes.”

“Take her with you. I need you back soon.”

“Sure, G. Not a problem. Come on, Freya.”

I went to the storage room and got a clean BDU. Then I hit the shower room that was set up for prisoners and turned on the water. To my amazement I actually got hot water. It had been a long time since I had taken a really hot shower.

When I got out, I realized how much time I'd spent. I needed to pick up the pace.

I tossed my dirty stuff in the corner, where it would probably remain until I picked it up. I took my gear over to Gunny's desk and cleaned my weapons. Someone had come in and left my Colt on my desk. I got a rag and wiped down my armor. Then I sharpened my knife.

I was strapping stuff back on when Donna and Freya came back.

“Pancakes good the second time?”

“Yes. Will Meadow Mills have cookies?”

“I doubt it.”

One of the militia guys—I think it was Leroy—stuck his head in the station door, “Mr. Gardener, the chief is waiting for you.”

“Fine. Tell the big guy I'll be out in a minute.”

“Okay.”

“Take care of Night, Donna. Are those our sandwiches?” Freya was holding a plastic bag, recycled at least twenty times by the look of it.

“Yes.”

“Let's go sightseeing, kid.”

Freya and I walked out of the station. There was a weird moment when everyone stopped what they were doing to gawk at us.

I paused to gawk back and asked the kid, “So when did you become a superstar?”

“I am a goddess.”

“Kid, all twelve-year-old girls think they are goddesses.”

“I am not twelve years old!”

“Well, then you are a runty sixteen-year-old.” I could tell she was getting ready to say something. We really didn't have time for it, so I started walking. The gawkers quickly went back to what they were doing.

I spotted Max standing next to the dump truck. The truck bed had been elevated, and there was a pale red puddle underneath the back end. My guess was they had washed out the bed.

“Hey, Max. What's the plan?”

He looked at Freya but didn't say anything about her. “I asked for volunteers. We are going to do a drive through Meadow Mills and let them know that it's time for them to reconsider.”

“Reconsider what?”

“You know, I really got to stop letting you talk to the prisoners.” He held out a folded paper. “Take a look at this.”

I took the paper, unfolded it, and began reading. There were two pages, an arrest warrant for each of us for murder.
Mine had more details, as I had apparently been far more evil. I handed the warrants back to him.

“You're slacking off, Max. It's not often anyone wants me more than they want you.”

He grinned. “That will change shortly. I'm going to make some calls later. I don't think it's a big deal. It looks like a county judge signed it, which doesn't mean shit, especially as this isn't his county.”

I didn't really care. I figured if they really wanted me, they were welcome to try. “So what are we doing?”

“We are going to burn as much of Meadow Mills to the ground as we can.”

I looked past Max and saw that he had about three dozen Molotov cocktails. The wicks were sanitary napkins. I shook my head and asked, “Jeebus, what was harder to come by, the napkins or the gas?”

He grinned. “You don't want to know.”

 

The plan was to drive the dump truck back through Meadow Mills. Anyone who saw it would think it was the boys returning from the raid. We would take Route 11 right through town until we hit Lee Street. Then we'd turn right until we hit Black Mountain Road. That would be where we started heading back home.

Once we entered the town, it would be light and toss until we ran out of cocktails. Max was going to ride in the back with Freya and me. We would have a couple of the squad with us to provide security and toss Molotovs out the other side.

We filled another stakebed truck with volunteers, all of them either part of the squad or kin to the people who died. The entire squad was going. Apparently they felt
they needed to redeem themselves for their poor performance earlier.

Max was already in the truck and yelling at people to mount up. I told one of the militia to find me an empty metal trash can and put it in the back of the dump truck, pronto. Fortunately, he didn't have to go far to find one.

“There you go,” I told Freya. “Stand on that and you can see the world.”

We hit the road. The locals we passed waved to us. “Hey, Max”—I had to yell in his ear to be heard—“does everyone in the world know what we're doing?”

“No. Why?”

I shrugged. He was the planner. But I wondered,
How did the kid know, then?

I figured we had about an hour and a half of sun left. We would be coming home in the dark. It was windy and a bit chilly. I liked it. So did Freya, who was clinging to the side of the truck bed. It was too windy to talk, which was also nice.

Once we got about ten miles out of town I noticed that a lot of fields were fallow. There should have been corn or something in them; instead there was nothing growing in at least half of them. Also, a lot of the farmhouses looked vacant. I am not a genius, but if this was what the rest of the country looked like, then cookies were going to be scarce everywhere.

We passed the green Welcome to Meadow Mills sign, and Max handed me a lighter. He yelled in my ear, “Don't lose it. It was my Dad's!”

It was a Zippo with a crest on it—blue with stars and a red “1” on the field of blue. Inside the red number, there were faint letters. I tried to make out what they said in
the fading sunlight, but they were too worn. I'd have to ask Max about it later. I thought it might say “Guadalupe,” which didn't make sense. Maybe it was his mother's name? But I didn't have a lot of time to think about it.

Max had already pulled one of the Molotovs out of an ice chest. He braced himself, held the bottle out for me to light, and tossed it overhand into the front of an old building. It went
who-o-omp!
spectacularly.

The guys from the squad started tossing theirs. We were cruising through what looked like the Meadow Mills version of a historic district. At this rate it was going to be the site of the place once known as the Historic District.

Max was laughing; he loved this. So did Freya. She was giggling, clapping her hands, and singing a song in whatever the hell her native tongue was. I wasn't smiling. This didn't feel right to me. There was no honor in it.

I understood it, but I didn't like it. This would break their backs. Their food supplies were probably elsewhere, but this and the death of so many of their warriors would shatter their resolve. That was the point. This was “no mercy.”

We ran the entire town with only minimal resistance. A squad car came whipping down a side street and pulled in behind us. That did not turn out to be a good idea. Max shattered a Molotov on their windshield. We had a few scattered rounds thrown our way, but nothing intense enough to matter. It was over for them.

Somewhere on Lee Street I handed Max his lighter. He was high—high on fire and destruction. Looking back, we could see smoke and flame. Given the condition of most local fire departments, Meadow Mills was going to burn for a while.

We passed a silver sign that the state used to mark historic sites in Virginia; one of the squad busted a couple rounds through it.

He and his buddy thought it was funny until I yelled, “Knock that shit off.” The world was filled with fucking idiots.

I leaned over and yelled in Freya's ear, “Having fun?”

Her reply startled me: “I prayed to my Father for this.”

I pointed at the fire that was receding behind us. “For that?”

“No. Fire and Sword. For the rebirth.” The way she said the last part, her tone, sounded like an explanation for an idiot.

“You know what my Momma always told me?”

She shook her head.

“Be careful what you pray for. You might get it.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

I spent the night sitting in the station. Night woke up around 0400 and I helped her get to the bathroom. On the way there, she said, “Damn, G, you smell awful. Somebody sell you unleaded aftershave?”

“No, I was busy earlier burning a town down.”

“Not ours, I hope.”

“Nope. Meadow Mills.”

“Oh, I guess that's alright, then. Don't go anywhere.” She shut the door. When she came out she clutched my arm. “Damn, my ribs hurt.”

I got her back to bed, woke up Donna, and asked her to check on her. Then I went in the storeroom, picked out a jacket, and went outside to sit.

I had never seen so many stars in the sky as I had in the past few years. I wasn't surprised when Freya sat down next to me.

“Couldn't sleep, kiddo?”

“I do not sleep now. I slept for too long before.”

“So you want to tell me who you are? I mean, if it's painful, we don't need to talk about it. Plus, where is your coat?”

“I do not need a coat for the same reason I do not need to sleep. I am not human. I am a goddess.”

“Okay.” I thought about that for a bit. “Is that how you get inside my head?”

“Yes.”

“Are you there now?”

“No.”

“Why not?'

It was her turn to pause. “Most of the time it is boring.”

“Oh—sorry about that. I'll see if I can do something about that.”

“No.” She was serious now. “I like you the way you are. You remind me of someone I knew a long time ago.”