Fight for Power (12 page)

Brett and I walked along the perimeter fence, which looked strong in some places but flimsy in others. It offered a line between us and them, the inside from the outside. Of course, that protection was just an illusion to an RPG. I couldn't help but think about our enemy out there, maybe a hundred strong, fully armed, dangerous and angry, and ruthless.

“This looks like a good place to get over,” Brett said. He climbed up onto a little perch that normally would hold a sentry and dropped his bow and quiver of arrows over the side and then jumped to join them. I followed but stood for a minute scanning the woods. I knew I looked a little paranoid, but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” Brett asked.

“Just checking things out. Better safe than sorry.”

We started walking.

Being outside the neighborhood felt a little strange. Sure, I'd been away—a lot farther than anybody else had—but that was in the air. There was a safety that height and distance offered. Not just from real dangers but from seeing real things. The illusion of normal was stronger the higher up I got.

Following the slope down to the little creek, we came to an open spot where later on in the day more people would gather to collect water. It was so early that the flow was still high, but not so high that it covered the rocks, which formed stepping-stones across the creek. I jumped from rock to rock and reached the other side in four steps. Brett was right behind me.

“You know where we're going, right?” he asked.

“I used to play down here all the time. We had a fort in the bushes over here.”

“Then lead the way.”

The little trail went away from the creek and into the woods. Instinctively I slipped my free right hand under my jacket, placing it on the butt of my pistol. I needed more than a bow and some arrows to keep me feeling safe.

“Do you think we'll run into anybody out here?” I asked.

“We can handle whatever or whoever we do run into.”

He spoke with such certainty. I didn't think he had any doubts. Through all of this, Brett had seemed to be getting more confident as everything else was becoming more and more unsure. He seemed to be thriving amid the chaos. There was something about him that reminded me of Herb and then other parts that seemed so different. Was it just the age difference?

“Hey, buddy, you seem a little distracted,” Brett said.

“I guess I can't get yesterday out of my head. I keep picturing those women and kids walking out of the building.”

“It was strange.”

“I just don't know how they could have done that, locked them up to die.”

“Yeah, pretty awful, but you almost have to admire them for what they did,” Brett said.

I skidded to a stop. “Admire them? You
admire
them for trying to kill those helpless women and children?”

“Look, of course I know it's wrong.”

“‘Wrong' is shoplifting at a store or not paying all your income tax. That was inhuman, barbaric, monstrous, and—”

“Okay, maybe ‘wrong' wasn't exactly the right word.”

“And maybe ‘admire' wasn't the right word either,” I suggested.

“Look, I'm not so good with words. That's why I'm a cop instead of a poet.”

“My mother is good with words.”

“I said
cop
, not
captain
.”

“My mother is a cop.” I knew she hated that word. She was a law enforcement officer.

“Your mother
was
a cop, but now she's a captain. Big difference. Being a captain is being half administrator and half politician. I wouldn't take that job if they offered it to me.”

“I don't think there's any danger they're going to offer it to a
rookie
,” I snapped.

“I may be a rookie, but I think I've proved to everybody just what I'm capable of doing!”

He showed a flash of anger. His face was suddenly red and his nostrils flaring. He looked like he wanted to take a swing at me. I didn't want to fight him and maybe I was angry, too, but he was right—he had proved himself and he didn't deserve me crapping on him.

“Look, I'm sorry. You've shown your stuff—I crossed the line,” I apologized. “We could probably use another dozen rookies if they were like you.”

“Hey, I'm sorry, too. I guess I met you at least halfway in crossing that line. I didn't mean anything about your mother. She is my captain, too.”

His angry expression was gone as quickly as it came, like a summer storm blowing away. He smiled and offered me his hand, and we shook.

“Thanks, and to be honest, out here, you're one of the people I'd like to have at my side. And I think everybody feels that way,” I said.

“You know, kid, you're high on that list, too. Herb has a lot of faith in you, and I have complete faith in him. No offense to your mother, and believe me I don't want to start anything, but he's the guy who should be running the place.”

“He plays a pretty big role in influencing the committee. People talk and he listens.”

“If they'd listened faster, we wouldn't have found an empty compound,” Brett said.

I knew Herb had wanted to move sooner, but still, maybe it was better they did get away. If we'd gotten there earlier, maybe one or both of us wouldn't be here to have a conversation.

“Herb is pretty good at convincing people to do things. He says that words are like weapons,” I said.

“Still, if it comes down to a fight, I'd rather have a loaded gun than a big vocabulary.”

“I think Herb has both.”

“Tell you what, if we run into trouble today, you talk and I'll aim. But back to what I was saying, it's not that I admire what they did but that they're prepared to do whatever it takes to survive.”

“If it comes to that I'd rather not survive.”

“You better be careful or you might get your wish,” Brett said. “There are going to be more times ahead when hard decisions have to be made, and I'm not sure if our group can make them. Sometimes being kind can get you killed.”

I felt like arguing, but I knew what he was saying was right. It was the same sort of thing Herb had been talking to me about.

We continued to move through the trees. We were almost all the way to the river and well away from the neighborhood now—from the safety of the wall. Although the trees and thick brush did provide a level of cover and protection, it also helped to have Brett here with me.

“Doesn't it feel good to be out here?” Brett asked.

“I'd rather be up in the air, but this does feel pretty good.”

“I'd like to spend more time here. I'm going to ask Herb and your mom for permission to set up a special unit, you know, the guys I really trust, to go out, especially at night and scout around to see if we can—”

Brett stopped suddenly and froze in place. He held up a finger to his lips to silence me and then pointed. For an instant I didn't see, and then they came into focus. There were deer—three, no four, of them down the steep slope of the ravine.

 

11

Two of the deer were drinking from the river and the other two were on alert, looking around, but I didn't think they'd seen us or they would have reacted.

“I'm going downwind. You go the other way and drive them toward me,” he whispered, gesturing with his hands where he wanted me to go and where he was going to go.

I nodded.

“Give me time to get into position, then make a lot of noise to drive them forward. I don't think they'll come up the slope or go into the river.”

Brett moved off to the left, quickly disappearing behind a stand of trees and brush. I tried to follow his movement, but he soon disappeared from view. I couldn't even hear him. I was amazed at how quietly he moved for somebody that big. I certainly didn't hear him—but did the deer?

I turned my focus back to them. All four were females and around the same size. They hadn't moved, but now all of them were looking around anxiously. Had they heard Brett? Did they smell me? Were they going to sprint away?

Two went back to sipping from the river and the other two started eating, nibbling on the new-grown grass at the edge of the water.

Slowly I bent down until I was hidden behind the bushes. Keeping low, I followed the path around, trying to walk softly. I didn't want them to hear me—at least not yet. If they heard me now, it would be just as likely they'd run away from Brett as they would toward him, and that was assuming he was even in position yet.

The path branched and I took the route to the left, leading down into the ravine, to the river's edge. The slope was steep, and despite holding on to trees with one hand I stumbled and made a lot of noise—certainly enough for the deer to hear something. I hoped at this point it didn't matter. I was supposed to be loud. I picked up my pace, letting gravity pull me quickly downhill until I hit the river, and then I made a sharp turn to the left, toward where the deer were—or at least where they
had
been.

I crashed through the woods, now deliberately making noise, crunching down the underbrush. I wanted the deer not just to hear me but to think a whole pack of wolves was coming toward them. That would panic the bunch and push them toward Brett. That is, unless they went straight up the steep slope or even jumped into the river and started swimming to the other side.

I ran along the path and then skidded to a stop—this was the spot where the deer had been, but they were gone. A gun went off and I startled. The deer must have run by Brett, who at least had taken a shot at one. But wasn't he going to use the bow and arrow? More shots rang out. Wait, I thought, they sounded different from one another. They weren't coming from one gun. There was another shot and a
whizz
as a bullet tore by me. I dropped to the ground and scurried to take shelter behind an old log.

What was happening? Did Brett have a backup gun? Was he firing two weapons? Had a bullet that missed the deer almost hit me?

Before I could think what to do next, I heard the distinct sound of somebody coming down the path toward me. I pulled the bow off my shoulder, dropped it, and drew my pistol, holding it in front of me like a shield. Three of the deer came charging toward me, and the first leaped over me and the log I was hiding behind. I tumbled backward, discharging my gun, and one of the deer staggered and fell to the ground as the other two ran off—I'd hit it!

I jumped up. Another adrenaline burst overcame both my fear and my logic. I charged up the path, practically tripping over Brett, who was huddled down beside a tree. I scrambled over on all fours until I was right beside him, protected by the same tree.

“What happened?” I gasped.

“I took a shot at the deer and I got it,” Brett said.

For a second I thought he meant the deer I knew I had shot, but he was pointing up the hill in the direction he'd just come from. Had he shot a deer as well? I was going to mention the deer I'd hit—the one back down the path that he knew nothing about—when he said something more pressing.

“But then I got distracted,” he continued. “There was somebody shooting at me. Do you see anybody?”

“I can't see anything, but I heard the shots. Let's get out of here.”

“We have to sit tight and wait until I know where the shots came from. Besides, I'm not going anywhere without that deer.”

I didn't want to wait. I wanted to run away as fast as my legs could carry me, although right now I wasn't sure they could carry me very far because they were shaking so bad.

“There, do you see him?” Brett asked.

I did. It was a man—no, two, and they were working their way down the steep slope. They were both carrying rifles. “We aren't outnumbered but we're outgunned, especially from this distance,” Brett said.

“I don't think they see us here or they wouldn't be coming down like that,” I said.

“They must think I've fled. They have rifles, so we have to let them get closer to even up the odds.”

Here I was hiding behind a tree from two armed men who had taken a shot at Brett and we were calculating just how to get the advantage over these men so that we could take a shot at them.

Is this what it had all come to?

They got closer—they were coming quickly and carelessly, making lots of noise, talking, even laughing. But what was wrong with their voices?

“It's just a couple of kids,” Brett said.

The two of them ran over to the deer Brett had shot. They were whooping and cheering in high-pitched kid voices, and one of them was female and only one of them had a rifle. The girl was holding some sort of spear or club.

Brett jumped to his feet. “Drop the weapon!” he screamed as he ran toward them. The two kids stumbled backward, tripping and falling over, letting their weapons fall to the ground. Brett continued toward them, his gun out, screaming as he ran. I got up and ran after him. The two kids were huddled on the ground with Brett standing over them, his pistol in one hand and their rifle in the other.

“Why did you try to shoot me?” Brett screamed, his gun pointed right at them.

The two kids—a boy about thirteen and girl who wasn't that much older than Danny and Rachel—were both in tears.

I held my hands up. “It's okay,” I said. “It's all going to be okay.” I stepped forward, placing myself between Brett and the two kids. “How about if we all just calm down.” I turned around to face Brett. “They're just a couple of kids, and you have their rifle … Please lower your pistol—you're only pointing at me right now.”

Brett hesitated—he had a look of complete rage on his face—and then his expression softened and he lowered the gun. I let out a big sigh of relief.

“What are your names?” I asked.

They didn't answer. They looked terrified—too scared to talk.