Moriah (10 page)

“No good, Riley,” said Dee. “We’ll take care of this.”

“We’ll take care of this
together.
” Tris twirled the sickles in her hands before replacing them on her back. “Including you.” She looked at Riley. “Dee, get her a gun. Bruce, Kevin. Grab your rifles. Carrie, you get ready too. We’re out of here in fifteen.”

“I’m coming,” Fred invited himself along.

“Do whatever you want, bishop.”

* * *

When Alex came to visit him that morning, Steve was playing cards with Brent. He’d heard about the double suicide in the hospital, known who they’d been. He found himself looking out the window often, but the corner across from his house was empty. It was reassuring to have Brent, his old friend, around.

A bottle stood unopened on the table between them. It’d been there since last night when Brent had brought it over.

“Hello, Alex.” Brent greeted the younger man who came into his house, Riley’s ex-boyfriend.

“I’m glad you’re up,” Alex said to Steve. “I wasn’t sure…” Alex knew from having dated Riley that there were nights Steve and Riley’s uncle Brent drank so much they didn’t move much before noon the following day. “I was hoping I could talk to you.”

Steve gestured to an empty seat at the kitchen nook. “Let’s talk.”

Alex settled down. “I’m going out there, to find Riley.”

Steve, Brent, and Alex filled the three seats where Steve usually sat with his son and daughter, both of whom had been gone for nearly two weeks, gone into the Outlands.

“That’s a bad idea,” Brent responded. “You don’t even know where they went.”

“I know where they were put down,” Alex forged ahead, intrepidly. “I talked to the helicopter pilot. Grimaldi’s going to take me.”

“That was a week ago, over a week ago,” Brent shook his head. “They could be…” he looked at Steve. “They could be anywhere now.”

“So what’d you want to come and talk to me about?” Steve asked Alex.

Alex looked at him, disappointed. “I don’t know.” He inhaled and puffed out the air. “I thought maybe you’d want to go with me.”

“Riley and Anthony are grown up now, Alex,” Steve reminded him.

“Which means,
what
? They can look after themselves?”

“They can make their own decisions. And believe me, this wasn’t one I agreed with.”

“Maybe coming here wasn’t…” Alex looked down at the table. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You two broke up, didn’t you?” asked Brent.

“She broke up with me. But so what?”

“So,” Steve put it to him plainly, “maybe you shouldn’t concern yourself—”

“See, that’s funny, because here I was thinking—seeing how Riley is
your
daughter—that maybe
you
should.”

Brent watched the look come and go across his old friend’s face, knew how close Alex had come to getting hit.

“Alex,” Steve said, “You’re a good guy. I wouldn’t want to see anything happen to you.”

“I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about Riley.”

“What about your parents, Alex?” asked Brent. “How would they feel if you went out there and something happened to you?”

“Like Steve said,” Alex gazed out at the man from the corners of his eyes. “I’m all grown up now, too.”

“I had to prepare myself,” Steve said quietly. “When they left, I had to prepare myself that maybe I’d never see them again. You know how hard that is? Any idea?”

“So,
what
, we’re just going to sit around—”

“Alex—” Brent attempted to interrupt.

“I’m hoping they’ll be back,” Steve remarked almost to himself, “I hope to God they are.”

Alex was breathing heavy, as if he were barely containing himself. Steve and Brent didn’t know if the young man was close to crying or screaming. When he could speak, he did. “I’ll be at the helipad, if you change your mind. Tomorrow morning, first light.”

He pushed himself away from the table and got out of his chair.

“Hey, Alex,” Brent called after him as he made for the door. “Be careful out there.” His comment went unacknowledged.

Sometime after Alex had left, the bottle on the table remained untouched. Steve sighed and laid his cards down. “My head isn’t in this.”

Brent looked at him. “Whatever you decide,” he told Steve, “I’m in.”

“Thanks, Brent.”

Steve parted the slats of the window blinds with his thumb and index finger and looked out onto an empty street and the dark night.

* * *

“Dee.” The man with the thick mustache behind the table in the armory tent smiled warmly at Dee and Riley. “New lady.”

“Jerry. We need to outfit Riley here.” Dee turned to her. “Well…” Dee wasn’t very happy that Tris demanded that Riley accompany them, and that Riley
wanted
to. “What do you want?”

“What’s this one?”

“Pick it up.”
Riley raised a black, mean-looking rifle in both hands.

“Heavy?” Jerry asked her.

“No, it feels good. It’s got some heft to it.”

“CETME semi-automatic battle rifle,” Jerry explained as Riley sighted down the barrel. “Chambered in 7.62 NATO. Big recoil on that sucker.”

“Can it mess someone up?” she asked him.

“It’ll ruin their day.”

“I think I can handle it.”

“That one’s got a fixed stock. We’ve got another here with a folding stock.”

“This will do. Thank you—Jerry, right?”

“That’s right.” Jerry looked seriously at Dee. “They have Victor, huh?”

“Yeah,” Dee answered glumly, then told Riley, “You’ll need a handgun.”

“Hey, Sharon,” Jerry called back further in the tent to someone unseen. “Could you bring up some seven-sixty-two NATO and whatever twenty round magazines we have for the CETME’s? Thanks, honey.”

Jerry turned his attention back to Riley and Dee. “My wife.” He smiled at Riley. “May I recommend this?”

Riley took the revolver Jerry handed her.

“Taurus Model 4510.” Jerry ran down the specs as Riley popped the cylinder, squinted down the barrel and felt the weapon in her hand. “Chambered for .45 Colt ammunition. Five rounds. Fixed rear sight, fiber optic front sight. Ribber—not rubber—grips. Nice little piece. Decent range for a hand gun what with those .45s, too.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Tris asked for a ballistic shield.” Dee relayed the request to Jerry.

“Now what’s she got in mind?”

“Who knows.”

“I think we’ve got something. Hey, Sharon, hon? Could you bring up that riot shield too, please?” Jerry lowered his voice and spoke seriously to Dee and Riley. “You all go and bring Victor back.”

“That’s the plan,” acknowledged Dee.

* * *

“Okay, Frankie, I want you a few hundred yards behind me, over there,” Gammon pointed. “And Toby, you’re over there.”

Frankie and Tobias looked towards the woods where Gammon indicated. They’d have the trees behind them and the grass to cover them, but Gammon was going to be sitting here exposed.

“Now, when they show up,” Gammon instructed them, “ya’ll don’t go doin’ anything stupid. Don’t show your hand until you have to is what I’m sayin’. Stay where you are, let me get the girl and cover us on our way out. These people got no trouble with us, they just want their Victor back.”

“What if they try and kill you once you tell them where they can find their Victor?”

“Well, see Toby, I’m kind of counting on that
not
happening. But if it does, that’s when you two step in. But both of you wait for my signal.”

“Which is…?”

“Which is what, Toby?”

“What’s the signal, Ed?”

“Well, it’s not like I have one worked out. But if you see me hollerin’ and shootin’, that’s a sure good sign right there. Any other questions? No. Good. Get yourselves out there now.”

“Ed?” Frankie asked. Toby, gripping his scoped rifle, trudged off through the grass.

“What’s on your mind, Frankie?”

“Red.”

“What about her?”

“Rodriguez ain’t happy about Red.”

“Yeah, I know that…”

“No,” Frankie warned, “you better keep an eye on him.”

“I’m hearing you, Frankie.” Gammon looked out at the night. “We get this girl, we get back to the others, the both of us can keep tabs on Rodriguez, all right?”

Frankie nodded. “See you later, Ed.”

“Yeah, I’ll be seeing you, Frankie.”

* * *

“Here,” Tris tossed a hand grenade to Dee. He caught it but yelled at her, “Tris—for Christ’s sake!”

“Don’t worry, they’re smoke.” Tris gave Riley the once over. “Give your rifle to Dee.” Riley figured it was better not to ask. “Okay, let me see your sidearm.” Riley handed Tris the Taurus 4510. “Revolver. Nice.” Tris stuffed the Taurus in her own web belt. “Here, hold this,” she handed the riot shield to Riley, “and this.” Riley looked down at the roll of duct tape Tris had placed in her other hand.

“What’s the shield for?” Dee asked Tris.

“In case we need it.”

“Hey, what about my guns?” Riley demanded.

“It’s all part of the plan,” said Tris. “You trust me?”

“No.”

“Good.” The corners of Tris’ mouth lifted, sending ripples up her scarred face. “You found a smart one, Dee.”

“Where’s your AR, Tris?” Bruce was feeding cartridges into the internal magazine of an M24 SWS bolt-action sniper rifle.

“AR’s my zombie-killing gun.”

“Then what’s that?” Riley indicated the submachine gun Tris held in one hand, a folding-stock Calico M960A fitted with a hundred round magazine.

“This is my man-killin’ gun.”

“Wait a minute.” Riley looked confused. “I don’t get a gun?”

“We don’t have time for this.” Tris sounded annoyed. “I’m going to give you back your pistol on one condition. When I ask for it again, you give it to me, and you do everything I say.
Everything
.”

Dee looked at Riley. His expression read,
Don’t do it
.

“Okay.” Riley consented.

“Now that’s what I like to hear.” Tris handed the Taurus back to Riley, butt-first. “Dee, you keep hanging out with her. You might learn something.”

* * *

“They all think I’m crazy.” Fred Turner looked pleased as they marched. He didn’t carry a gun, but he carried a Bible under one arm and his stuffed cat under the other.

“You’ve been through a lot.” Bruce was generous.

“Nah,” said Tris, “the Bishop is just crazy.”

Fred laughed. “What do you think, Riley?”

“I don’t think the cat helps.”

“Mr. Vittles, my old friend.” Fred asked Riley, “Where you come from, are there Christians?”

“A few. There’s some religious groups, but they’re spaced out.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’,” commented Tris.

“I mean geographically.”

Kevin and Dee were ahead, leading the group from their quads to their destination.

“So,” inquired Fred, “what do people believe?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do people think happens when they die?”

“Well…” Riley herself harbored no beliefs in any afterlife or deities. “I can’t speak for everybody. But I think when you die…I don’t know, that’s it. You’re dead.”

“And where do you think we came from?” There was a spring in Fred’s step. He looked completely different from the skeleton of a man Riley had first set eyes on the previous day. Some animating force was present in him now. He’d shaved. “Why do you think we’re here?”

“I don’t know.” Riley thought Tris might be right about the man, especially after his leap-of-faith story. “About fourteen million years ago the universe expanded and cooled and now we’re here. Look, I’m no scientist.”

“That sounds plausible to you?”

“You know, Fred. I’ve been thinking a lot…especially since my brother died. Maybe the important questions aren’t how we got here and why. Maybe we should be thinking of the future, about where we’re going.”

“A couple more clicks,” said Tris.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Fred understood Riley’s point.

“And I’m thinking, whatever unites us and helps us live together, peaceably—is that a word?—that those are things we should be encouraging. Everything else…”

“Everything else,” Bruce rasped, “is pretty much just bullshit.”

“Pretty much,” Riley agreed. “We don’t have a lot of time. Any of us, individually I mean. But I’ve seen things, getting here. I think maybe human beings will continue on, different maybe than what we’ve been used to. I don’t think humanity is going to just disappear. So it all goes back to what you said, right? About having a second chance?”