The Last of the Freemen (2 page)

They drove without speaking over winding country roads; Erin sat in the back with Hughie, who had fallen asleep.  She found comfort in the familiarity of the route, watching the landscape level out as they descended into the valley; the houses grew more frequent, until finally there were uninterrupted expanses of housing subdivisions and half-abandoned strip malls.

“Harm?” she called with a slight concern, leaning forward and guiding a tress of hair behind her ear.  “I think back there was where we hop on the highway.  It’s a lot faster to get downtown that way.”

“I know.  But there are too many random checkpoints at the ramps that way, lately.  I go the way with fewer police, fewer license plate scanners.”

“Police are a bad thing?”

“In my life?  Always.”

“Oh.”  Her face tightened as she eased herself back; she suddenly had misgivings about the man at the wheel, and watched helplessly as he turned from one unfamiliar road onto another, entering dilapidated city neighborhoods she had never seen, but about which she had heard frightening things.

“Are we safe here?”

“Safer than around cops, these days.”

“We won't get carjacked?”

“This old car? Not likely.”

“But what someone tries?”

“Then I'll deal with it.”

“And we don’t exactly look like the people in this part of town.”

“Do you think they care?”

“I don't know.  Maybe.”

An abandoned brick row house with boarded windows, covered heavily with graffiti, sat close to the road as they slowed for a stop sign.  Prominent among the images painted there was that of a woman sitting cross-legged, holding a sickle in one hand, while cradling her abdomen with the other; in the circle of her womb, instead of a child, was a skull with bloody eyes.  Beneath were the words ‘WE ARE EVERYWHERE’.

“It gives me the chills,” Erin said, “that symbol of the Cull Warriors.”

“It’s meant to.”

“I still don’t get it.  They supposedly worship Gaia, or Earth Mother, or some bizarre blending of Gaia and Kali - I've heard different theories - and they believe in killing random groups of people, because the earth is overpopulated?  How can anyone be so twisted?”

“There’s no shortage of kooks out there.”

“They believe that killing is like a sacrament.  But how could anyone be sick enough to think that killing is spiritual?”

“Ever listen to
Battle Hymn of the Republic
?”

“And why can’t the police ever catch these guys?  How do they always get away?”

“That’s a good question.  If only more people would ask it.”  He glanced at her cautiously in the rear-view mirror.  “It’s enough to make you wonder.”

“Wonder what?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re starting to sound like my husband.  And look where it got him.”

As they pulled away from the intersection Harm drew a deep breath.

“You know,” he started, “that graffiti’s been there on that building for about a year now.  I used to drive this way pretty often.  Not long after that Cull symbol appeared, someone painted ‘Cull freaks wear pink undies’ and ‘Down with the government’ right next to it.  And within a few days, the city crews had pressure-washed those off.  Left the Cull graffiti there.  Makes you wonder.”

“Well, that’s just too conspiratorial for me.  It’s bordering on paranoid.  I can’t believe there would ever be any kind of collusion with people so evil.”

“So it’s easier to believe that a bunch of tattooed, muscle-bound freaks with shaved heads can just melt back into a crowd after they've killed fifty or a hundred people?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know how it happens.  And I don’t really want to think about it.”

“No matter,” he said, and slowed the car again to a stop.  “This isn’t good.”

Erin looked up to see a convoy of armored vehicles pass in front of them, six in total.

“They’re headed downtown, too,” Harm said.  “Just our luck.”  He removed his hat, ran a hand through his hair, and waited a few moments before following them.

“You’ll need to get your car looked at right away,” he said as an afterthought.  “There are a few government-licensed repair shops not too far from us, they’ll come and tow it for you, but it’ll probably take a few days.  I can get the numbers for you.”

“My phone was turned off a month ago,” she said with a sigh. “I couldn't pay the bill. Things are a little tight right now, financially, since I don't have an income.  Unemployment insurance is on hold while they decide if I'm an enemy of the state.  And the currency changeover, and the negative interest, they wiped out what savings I had left.”

“You can call from my place when we get back.” He watched intently as the convoy turned right at a large intersection, and he likewise turned to the right, down a narrow side street, while still several blocks back.

“You need to know -” he paused as he swung the car into an alley, then backed up to turn around, “you need to know that Bern will be gone in a week.”

“He did say something about packing.”

“He’s going back to live with family.  And I’ll be gone within a month, or less.  Everything is worse here than in most other states, except for the ruling caste.”

He parked alongside the curb and shut off the engine.  “We won’t be around to help.  So you’d better find some distant relative who can help you, or get a lot better at growing your own food.”

“We’re stopping here?  Where are we?”

“We’ll walk the last few blocks,” he said, getting out of the car and putting his hat on again.

“Why?” she asked, her voice growing louder in frustration as she tucked her hair behind her ear.  “There’s a public parking lot right near the county building.  This doesn't make a lot of sense.”

He opened the rear door where she sat and looked her squarely in the face.  “I’m here to help you,” he said, sounding near the end of his patience.  “I’m not here to explain myself.”

“Okay, I get it.  I know I should be grateful.”  She turned and unbuckled Hughie.  “I just find your paranoia a little alarming.”

Once she had gotten out of the car with Hughie, Harm closed the door and led the way down the deserted side street.

“You didn't see those riot trucks?” he asked.

“I did.  But they’re probably normal for this part of town.”

“They’re not.  And did you see where they deployed?  Along Washington Street, which controls access to the public parking, and to the highway ramps.  It would be stupid to go in there.”

“I’m sure it's just a terror drill, or something like that.”

He looked around cautiously in every direction as they reached a cross street.  “Maybe, maybe not, but I can tell you this, if it weren't for the hungry baby, I’d be turning around and leaving you here right now.”

Erin groaned and struggled to keep pace with his long, brisk strides.  “So you guys are leaving the farm?”

“Yeah. It’s not really a farm these days, though, hasn't been for years. We do other things there now, and that’s coming to an end soon, too.” He stopped and peered around the next corner, then went on.  “You know, you’ve got food on your land you might not know about. There’s nearly an acre of asparagus on your west property line, a little overgrown, but still producing. And other things, like topinamburs and hop vines, that should still be holding their own. You had apples rot on the ground last fall, two acres’ worth.  And walnuts that went to the squirrels. I’ll show you around before I go, if you want.”

“Thanks for the offer. We knew about the apples, we just didn’t have time to grab many of them.  I had no idea about the asparagus or walnuts, though, or those other things.  I thought those were just overgrown fields out there.”

“Overgrown fields can have a lot of food, if you know what to look for.”

“I’m curious, though, how do you know so much about my property?”

He considered a moment before answering.  “I... knew the people who used to live there.”

After maneuvering around several dumpsters and an overflow of garbage on the ground, they turned down an alley between tall office buildings and came to a large public square.  It was paved with cobblestones and flanked by various government buildings in unsightly array; to their left stood the Greek Revival county courthouse, directly across was the Beaux Arts city hall, while wedged in between at the corner was a tall new postmodern structure - clad in dark glass - housing the regional offices of various Federal agencies.  To their right, at the far end of the plaza, stood an ugly and deteriorated piece of concrete brutalism, the county services building.  From there a queue of people stretched nearly half the length of the expanse.

“Oh my God!” she said, smiling.  “You got us here after all!  I have to hand it to you, you know your way around here pretty well.”

He nodded but said nothing as he surveyed the area, and seemed unwilling to cross the square.

“Lined up and corralled like at a slaughterhouse,” he said.

Erin ignored the comment.  “Well, let’s go.  There’s already quite a line.”  She looked at her watch.  “And it’s not even nine o’clock yet.  The office doesn’t open for another twenty minutes.  Come on!”

Jerking her head in that direction to prompt him, she started off, and he reluctantly followed.

Chapter 4

For more than half an hour they stood in line; hundreds of others had filed in after them, but there was no forward movement.  Harm remained agitated, constantly shifting from side to side and looking around.  A black man in his late fifties, wearing a threadbare suit, stood behind them, smiling and making faces at Hughie.

“Won’t you smile for old Leon?”  he said with a gentle whiskey-throated voice.

“He doesn't really smile yet,” Erin offered.

“I miss my own grandkids.  Don’t see ’em much.  Their mother hooked up with some new guy and moved to Baltimore.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.”

He noticed Harm’s anxiousness.  “Yeah man, it’s kinda spooky, ain't it?  All these offices closed down. One of those energy shortage shutdowns. I know, ’cause my brother-in-law works security over there, at City Hall. They all got those automated calls last night, tellin’ ’em not to come in today.”

“That’s not good,” Harm said.

“But we didn't get calls, did we? We got to get our food. I’m hoping they got generators at the county building. They got to. They can't just cancel on us.  They can't just let us go hungry.”

“Nobody here but us and the riot police,” Harm said grimly.

“Yeah, I saw that. Prob’ly a terror threat from one of those liberty groups again.”

“I’m sure it's just a training exercise,” Erin said with a shake of her head, “and that’s why they had people stay home, to keep things from getting too snarled up. And I’m sure they’ll open the office soon.  You always get bureaucratic slowdowns with any unexpected changes. They probably have to send out a formal request to some other agency for generators or something.”

“Oh yeah, you’re prob’ly right,” Leon said. “I bet it’s gonna be a while before this line starts to move.”

Faintly at first, then more loudly, the hum of engines could be heard as a procession of unmarked vans, all windowless at the back and sides, poured into a street parallel to the square, behind City Hall.

“I’ll bet that’s the generators now!” Leon beamed.

Harm was frantic, and stepped out of line to look down the nearest alley.

“
Scheisse!
” he yelled, bounding back; he placed a firm grip on Erin’s arm.

“We have to go!”

“Get your hand off me, you psycho!” she cried, pulling away.

“Cool it, man,” Leon interjected, “everything's gonna be okay.”

Suddenly there erupted an overwhelming clamor; hundreds of terrified screams mixed with the murderous bellowing of nearly a hundred men, all shirtless and tattooed with Cull symbols, shaven-headed and bearded, variously armed with baseball bats, machetes, and swords.  They charged from the alleys like berserkers, screaming and setting upon everyone in their path; though Hughie wailed with the onset of the terrible noise, Erin felt paralyzed, and watched helplessly as a wild-eyed maniac – brandishing a machete over his head - locked eyes on her and sprinted in for the kill.

With a remarkable leap before the machete descended, Harm intercepted him with a punch to the face of such force that he slammed unconscious to the ground.  In one fluid movement Harm then whirled around, retrieved the fallen machete, and rammed it through the neck of another Cull who was beating the head of a prostrate woman; Harm snatched the bat from his grip as he fell to the pavement.

Leon stood bloodied and staggering, trying to block a pickax-handle attack with his arms and roll with the blows as would a boxer. When his assailant glanced over, in fright, at Harm, Leon took advantage and landed a well-schooled right hand to the chin, dropping the Cull onto his back; the man quickly rolled over, and was scrambling to his feet, when Harm closed the distance and finished him with a single crack to the head.

The rest of Cull men had now bypassed them in pursuit of those who fled across the square; as the droves neared the other side, a second phalanx of Cull warriors poured forth from there, cutting off their escape and continuing the slaughter. Some fleet-footed victims ran toward the public parking lot on the far side of the courthouse, from where the sound of automatic gunfire commenced.

Harm scooped Erin up - and Hughie along with her – into his arms and headed for the nearest alley, which was guarded by a single Cull man with a samurai sword.  As Harm set them down and moved in, predator-like, with his bat, the man looked uncertain and held out his blade in a defensive posture; Harm quickly knocked the sword aside and jabbed the bat into the man’s face, then, before the Cull could regain his balance, delivered a second, crushing blow across the side of his head.

Glancing back at Erin, who was still immobilized with fear, he saw that Leon had followed and was guiding her along behind; the men nodded to each other and Harm darted down the alley. At the far end stood a man clad in riot gear and armed with a tactical rifle, looking down at his cell phone; hearing Harm’s approach, he raised his head as he was tackled, and for a few moments they struggled, until Harm unholstered the man’s pistol and fired a single shot under his helmet.

He jumped up and cautiously peered out into to the street, where numerous vans were parked with their doors left open; then he went back to Leon, Erin, and Hughie, who had all traversed the alley.

“We have to run across,” he told them. “If we get to the next alley without them seeing us, we might make it.”

Erin shook her head in terrified refusal.  Leon looked down at the dead man.

“What’s goin’ on here?” he asked.  “I... I...”

“What’s it look like?” Harm asked.  “Don't call the cops.  They’ll be here to do the cleanup. No survivors.  Watch yourself.”

“Good Lord.” Leon shook his head and wiped a tear from his bloody cheek.  “All those people...”

“Come on!” He tucked the pistol in his pocket and again hoisted Erin – who seemed only more frightened by the act - and Hughie into his arms, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the street.  With a quick look in both directions, he took off running.

The nearest officer was at the mouth of the next alley, busily shooting other escapees who had come his way, and oblivious to all else. The street was otherwise deserted; the bulk of the tactical force had deployed to the parking area - the most likely avenue of escape - from where the sound of gunfire continued.

Once across the street they ran through the next alley, and came to a halt only when they neared the next block; Harm put Erin down and caught his breath, while Leon leaned against a wall and gasped for air.

“The streets will be busy with patrol cars,” Harm said, removing his blood-spattered shirt to reveal a muscled physique in a tight-fitting tank top. “We have to look normal, not draw attention to ourselves. Just out for a walk, like we have no idea what just happened back there. You should wipe that blood off your face.”

“Oh, yeah, good idea,” Leon said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. “I don’t have far to go. I just live a few blocks from here. Listen, if you need a place to lay low for a while...”

“Thank you,” Harm said, tying the shirt around his waist, “but we need to get out of here before they throw the city into lockdown.  Which they will, when they realize people got away.”  He led Erin into the street and they turned to the right.  Leon headed to the left.

“I’m goin’ this way,” he said.  “You folks be careful, now.”

Harm paused and turned. “Don’t tell anyone, remember, no survivors.  They’ll hunt you down.”

“Gotcha,” he answered as he walked away. “God bless!”

They walked back to the car, keeping several blocks away from the scene of the slaughter.  Calming Hughie helped Erin regain her own composure, but as a patrol car drove slowly past she started to panic.

“Should we run?” she asked tensely.

“No, everything's okay,” he said quietly. “We’re just out for a walk. These local cops probably don’t even know what happened. They’re probably on alert, just looking for anything unusual.  Don’t be unusual.”

The patrol car rolled up alongside them and the passenger side window opened; an officer in his thirties leaned over and called out.

“Jeez, Wolf, you turn up at the craziest times,” he said.

“Yeah, Tommy, tell me about it,” Harm answered.

“The Feds took over the whole city since yesterday,” the officer continued. “Training exercises, they said, but don't ask any questions. Now I hear automatic rifles. But we have to look the other way, or else, you know?”

“I never know anything.  You know that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the officer said wryly.  “Listen, heads up, the whole city is about to go into lockdown.”

“Thanks.  We’re on our way out.”

“Somehow I'm not surprised. Hey, say ‘hi’ to the Bear for me, if you see him.”  The officer drove off and swung around, going back the way he had come.

Mollified by the gentle motion of their stroll, Hughie finally quieted down and watched the changing scenery over his mother’s shoulder; Harm sighed with relief when they reached his car.

“Let's get out of here,” he said, opening the door for her. “And let’s hope the day doesn't get any more interesting.”