The Survivalist - 02 (9 page)

“For everyone,” added Mason.

She turned back at him.

“Yes, for everyone. Someone had to pick up the pieces. And that’s what I did.” She walked over to Coveralls and patted him on the shoulder. “I truly believe that I was born for one reason—to lead the citizens of York through the most difficult times we’ve ever faced. We all have our destinies, right?”

Mason shrugged. “So I’ve been told.”

“When my townspeople were dying and afraid, I stepped up and provided a little order. My men, a few of whom you’ve met, enforce that order.”

Mason looked over and saw Coveralls beaming from her attention.

“Makes sense,” he said. “There are a lot of convicts on the loose right now.”

“Right again. Not to mention the blister faces.”

“The what?”

She grinned. “That’s what we’re calling the people who were infected with the virus. They’re as ugly as sin, and the name just seemed to stick. One of the first things we did was roll up our sleeves and drive them out like roaches from a kitchen.”

“Why’d you do that?” Mason thought about his encounter with Erik back in the town of Boone. If anything, he felt only pity for the man.

“Are you kidding? York is being rebuilt from the ground up. We don’t care about race so much, but, by God, we have to draw the line somewhere. Before you know it, those nasty creatures would be making babies, and York would become some kind of carnival freak show.”

Mason knew enough history to appreciate that similar arguments had been made in the past. Whether it was Nazis, Bolshevists, or Hutus, countless leaders before her had found reasons to expel or murder those whom they felt didn’t belong in their society.

“Do you know what the country needs right now more than anything else?” she asked.

He shook his head, allowing her to go on with a speech that he was sure she had given many times.

“Leaders,” she said. “People who are able to step up and make difficult decisions. That’s a rarity right now.” Without giving him a chance to reply, she continued. “As you can imagine, people were initially reluctant to follow a woman. For some reason, they mistakenly assumed that women are weak. They forgot about Cleopatra, Margaret Thatcher, Joan of Arc, and countless other women who led armies to victory.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Leading an army?”

“You bet I am. We’re facing all kinds of threats, not the least of which is an impotent federal government.”

“Impotent?” He raised his eyebrows. “Interesting choice of words.”

She grinned. “My point is that we’re on our own. Like you, Marshal, we’re working without a safety net.”

He glanced out the window.

“It looks like you’re doing okay.”

She moved close and took his arm.

“Come on,” she said. “I want to show you our town. A man like you will appreciate what we’ve done here.”

Mason noted that she didn’t ask him if he was interested in seeing the town; she told him.

Alexus led him out onto Liberty Street, the main thoroughfare that passed directly in front of the courthouse. Coveralls and the other two guards followed closely behind.

“Two weeks ago,” she said, “people were literally decomposing on these very sidewalks. No one would move them for fear of contracting the virus. Now look at it.” She spread her arms like the ringleader at a circus.

Mason looked around. The street was peaceful, and, while it still had some signs of damage and neglect, it was free of bodies. An elderly couple walked down the sidewalk picking up debris. A woman and several young boys were on the opposite side of the street, washing store windows. Other than the men pointing rifles at him, Mason didn’t have any particular objection to what she had done. York was certainly in better shape than the other towns he had passed through.

“It looks like you’re keeping people busy.”

“Everyone does their part. It’s one of our rules.”

“What happens to those who don’t go along with your master plan?”

“A fair question,” she said. “Let me show you.”

She led him east on Liberty Street, past a small cemetery. In front of the graveyard stood a tall metal arch with the words “Rose Hill” stamped across the top. A white cloth banner had been hung below the arch, which read:
Punishment Yard
. At the center of the cemetery was a small wooden stage, on which several four-by-six beams had been used to erect a primitive gallows. A man hung from the noose, swaying from side to side like the pendulum of a grandfather clock.

“Does that answer your question?” she asked, waiting for his reaction.

He nodded, not at all surprised by what he was seeing.

“Our laws are kept very simple,” she said. “And we post all decrees so that no one can hide behind the excuse that they didn’t know what was allowed.”

“Why the noose?”

“I know that it must seem a bit barbaric, but public hangings are very symbolic of justice.”

“And does it work to keep order?”

She smiled. “You’d be surprised.”

“What was his crime?” Mason asked, pointing to the dead man.

“I don’t remember.” She looked to Coveralls, who shrugged. “Whatever it was,” she said, “he had it coming.”

They walked down the street another quarter mile to a large outdoor strip mall. The buildings remained closed, with many of them boarded up, but an open-air market had been set up in the parking lot. A hundred or more people milled about under large revival tents, bartering for food and other supplies.

“You see?” she said. “We’ve even set up our own free market. While the town provides the bare necessities, the townspeople are encouraged to trade amongst themselves. Most of it is stuff they stole from other people’s homes before we took over, but I don’t hold that against them.”

“Impressive.” Mason thought that in many ways, York was Boone’s twin sister—the vain one who insisted that you tell her how beautiful she was.

They turned and started back in the direction of the courthouse. As they did, a man suddenly broke away from the crowd and sprinted into the street. Several people shouted for him to stop.

Alexus swung around and motioned for Coveralls to take action. To Mason’s surprise, her lieutenant was surprisingly fast. He broke into a full run, catching the man before he had even reached the far side of the street. He swept the thief’s legs out from under him, causing him to go down hard on the pavement. The man rolled to his back, staring up at Coveralls, and, more important, the rifle in his hands.

Alexus led Mason and the two remaining guards through the crowd. As they pushed into the makeshift market, everyone retreated to clear a path. The woman who seemed to be the center of attention looked around nervously, trying to decide what was expected of her.

“What did he take?” asked Alexus.

“My late husband’s gold watch,” the woman said softly, lowering her head. “But I didn’t mean for this to happen. There’s no need for violence.”

Alexus put her hand on the woman’s shoulder.

“That’s for me to decide.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did he hurt you?”

She rubbed her wrist, hiding it like a child might hide a toy he had taken from his older brother.

“Not really.”

“Let me see.”

The woman reluctantly held out her hand. There was a red welt around her wrist and a small bruise forming on her palm.

“He did hurt you.”

“Really, I’m okay.”

“You know the rules.”

The woman looked down.

“I’m okay,” she repeated softly.

Alexus motioned to Coveralls by pointing to her hand.

He said something to the man on the ground, who immediately began to protest. Shaking his head, Coveralls aimed his rifle at him. For a moment, Mason thought that he might shoot the unarmed man. After a few seconds, the man rolled over and slowly placed his hand, palm down, on the pavement.

Coveralls raised his boot and stomped as hard as he could. Only those closest to them heard the snapping of bones. Everyone heard the agonizing scream. Coveralls reached down and snatched the stolen watch from the man’s wrist. Then he walked back to the woman in the crowd and handed it to her.

Alexus turned to Mason.

“Are you familiar with Hammurabi’s Code?”

“An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.”

She smiled. “What could be fairer than that?”

“Perhaps, but it must be administered in a just way.”

“And was this just?”

Mason looked at the man lying in in the gutter, cupping his broken hand like a kitten that had just been run over.

“It seemed more about making a point.”

She touched him gently on the arm.

“Exactly. We were telling everyone who witnessed this that there are consequences for their actions.”

Mason shrugged. The man would live, and there seemed no point in pressing any sort of self-righteousness. Lord knows, he had certainly administered his own brand of justice on more than one occasion.

They turned and walked slowly back toward the courthouse. Alexus moved close and slid her arm through his.

“Why are you here, Marshal?” she asked.

“Like I said, I’m just passing through.”

“To where, if I might ask?”

Mason considered how much to tell her. He didn’t see any harm in her knowing his plans since they in no way impacted her town.

“I’m headed to the law enforcement center in Glynco, Georgia.”

“To see if you can help?”

“Yes.”

“That’s noble. Really, I’m impressed.”

“It’s my job.”

She laughed. “There are no jobs anymore, Marshal. Just things we do to survive.”

“Is that why you set up the Free Militia? To survive?”

“That’s one reason, yes. I suspect there are similar militias forming all over the country. The Free Militia is small, barely forty men and women. We’re starting with the simple goal of establishing an orderly society here in York. That’s not something to be feared, is it?”

“I’ve fought for similar causes,” he said, thinking back to Boone.

“I thought as much,” she said, squeezing his arm. “The truth is that you and I are not so different.”

“Strong and good-looking?” he teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Driven by purpose.”

He nodded. “Where are we going now?”

“You need some rest.”

Again he noticed that she told him rather than asked him. In this case, however, she was right. It was already dusk, and he was growing more exhausted with every hour that passed.

“I could use a bit of down time.”

“Let’s start by getting you fed. Then we’ll find you a warm bed for the night. We southerners are known for our hospitality.”

CHAPTER

10

As nightfall approached, Samantha grew more anxious. She stared at the broken doors leading from Outdoor World to the street beyond as if expecting a horde of undead to stagger in at any moment. Given the pile of blistered bodies already lining the floor, it didn’t strike her as an unreasonable concern.

Tanner sat with his back to a small pillar, the Savage .22 rifle in his hands. The empty shotgun lay beside him, currently about as useful as sock full of quarters.

“Relax,” he said. “As soon as it gets dark, we’ll head out.”

“And then?”

“We’ll go to the Jeep for supplies and ammunition.”

“And after that?”

“After that, we’ll find a safe place to crash for the night. It’s too risky to stick around here, in case your Secret Service friend decides to show back up.”

“You heard what he said. He’s willing to kill me too.”

Tanner thought about it for a moment.

“I wonder what he’s up to. Do you have any enemies?”

“I’m eleven.”

“Right. What about your mom?”

“She’s the president. Of course, she has enemies.” Samantha stared off into space for a moment, thinking. “Wait a minute. I remember her talking about a very dangerous guy named Al.”

“Al?”

“Al Kayduh. I think he’s a terrorist.”

“Ah,” Tanner said, smiling. “All right. So, let’s assume this has to do with your mom. You’re probably just leverage to get to her.”

“They should know I won’t do anything to help them.”

“Just having you in their hands would be enough. They could make all sorts of threats. And, from what we’ve seen, they’d be more than willing to follow through with them if needed.”

“Evil people are just so . . . evil.”

“Can’t argue with that one.”

Samantha stood up and paced the floor. She couldn’t help but look at the man who had been butchered inside the front doors. Her eyes weren’t drawn to the bloody gore, but rather to a small white piece of paper sticking out of his front pocket. She glanced back at Tanner, but his eyes were closed as he rested his head against the pillar. Careful not to step in the thick pool of dried blood, she tiptoed over to the man’s body and slid the paper from his pocket. It was a single sheet of plain white paper, folded into quarters. She carefully made her way back to Tanner, studying the paper, unsure if she should even unfold it.

When she looked up, he was staring at her.

“What’d you find?”

She held up the paper.