This Shattered Land - 02 (42 page)

“Gentlemen
don’t, but I’m asking you.”

He
looked up at me and frowned. “And here I was about to make you some breakfast.”

I
held up my hands. “
Mea Culpa
. Seriously though, everything go okay with
Allison?”

He
stopped stirring for a moment. A quiet smile that I had never seen from him
before tugged at his lips.

“Yeah.
Yeah it did. I had a great time.”

I
grunted, nodded, and left it at that. “What’s for breakfast?”

Eric
beamed at me. “You’re going to shit your pants.”

“Over
eggs? Don’t think so. I’ve had those since we got here.” I said.

“Oh
no, my friend.” He said as he walked over to a plate covered with a tea towel.
“Over this.”

He
snapped the towel away with a dramatic flourish and held a palm out toward the
plate. My eyes went wide at the sight of it.

“Dear
sweet baby Jesus, is that what I think it is?”

“That
depends. Do you think it is the most perfect meat in the world, fit for the
gods, but nonetheless available for consumption by mere mortals such as we?”

“Bet
your ass.” I breathed, getting up from my seat and walking around the island to
stare at it. “I was beginning to think I’d never see this stuff again.”

“And
yet here we are, basking in the glow of pure ambrosia.” Eric picked up a slice
of meat and dropped it into a skillet on the woodstove. The sizzle made my stomach
growl, my mouth watered at the smell.

“Behold,
dear Gabriel. Behold the wonder that is bacon.”

I
beheld. For once, I didn’t find Eric’s smartass mock theatrics annoying, I was
too busy trying not to drool. Put me on death row and ask me what I want for a
last meal, and I’ll tell you to bring me three pounds of skillet-fried bacon. Two
years had passed since the last time I enjoyed it, and the prospect of eating
it again was almost too much to handle. I’m not ashamed to admit that I choked
up a little bit. Come on, we’re talking about bacon here.

Normally
I’m a fast eater, but on this occasion I took my time, savoring every little
bite and wishing it could last forever. It was that good. Maybe I’ll write a
poem about it someday.

“So
what did you get into last night?” Eric asked as I used a fingertip to pick up
the little meat crumbs that broke off onto my plate while I was eating.

“I
ran into your friend Steve.”

Eric
raised an eyebrow at that. “Really. What was he up to?”

I
filled him in on my conversation with the Special Forces operative. Eric’s good
mood evaporated.

“Fuck’s
sake.” He said. “What do you think they want us to do?”

I
shrugged. “I imagine they want us to make the Free Legion go away permanently.”

“And
how exactly are we supposed to do that? We don’t even know how many of them
we’re dealing with.”

“I
don’t know.” I said. “I’ll see what this mayor lady has to say, and then we’ll
talk it over with Steve. He’s been gathering intel on the Legion for a while
now, maybe he’ll have some ideas.”

Just
as we finished cleaning the breakfast dishes, a knock sounded at the front
door. Eric and I exchanged a glance.

“I
got it.” I said.

Sheriff
Elliott stood framed against the morning sunlight on the front step, holding
his wide-brimmed hat in his hands. “Good morning Mr. Garrett. Wonder if I might
have a word with you.”

I
stepped back and held the door open. “Of course. Come on in, Sheriff.”

He
wiped his feet and stepped inside, pausing in the foyer to look around. “Been a
long time since I seen the inside of this place.”

“Did
you know Doctor Laroux’s grandmother?” I asked.

The
Sheriff nodded. “Long time ago. Seems like another life.”

“I
know what you mean.” I said. “Sometimes I feel like forty years just can’t be
enough to cover everything I’ve seen.”

Elliott
gave a tired laugh, deepening the wrinkles and creases around his eyes.

 “Tell
you what son, come talk to me when you hit your sixties.”

I
smiled at that. “Be glad to, assuming I’m still around. Care for something to
drink, Sheriff? I’m afraid all we have at the moment is water. If you stick
around a minute I could make some tea.”

“I
can’t stay long, unfortunately. I’m just here to deliver a message from Mayor
Stone. She’d like to speak with you this afternoon at three-thirty at her
office in Town Hall. Would you be able to do that?”

I
exhaled and crossed my arms over my chest. “Do I have a choice?”

Elliott
shifted uncomfortably. “Of course you do. If you’d like to meet some other
time, we can work around that.”

“That’s
not what I meant, Sheriff.”

His
eyes hardened. Now he looked like a cop. “There’s no need to be stubborn about
this, Mr. Garrett. You took advantage of the services this town offers knowing
full well you’d be expected to pay us back. If we wanted to, we could simply
take what we feel is just compensation and send you on your way. We don’t want
to do that, we’d rather negotiate a fair price.”

I
ground my teeth and nodded. Eric came around the corner behind the Sheriff and
leaned against a wall, listening to the conversation. He shot me a pointed
stare and tapped a finger against his pistol. I uncrossed my arms and made a
small negating gesture with one hand.

“You’re
right.” I sighed, doing my best to look defeated. “I knew the score when I got
here, no sense arguing about it now. Tell the mayor I’ll be there.”

Elliott
nodded. “I appreciate that.” The old man put his hat on as he turned and opened
the door to leave. “Life is better in this town than just about anywhere else,
Mr. Garrett. The mayor just wants to keep it that way. You should keep that in
mind.”

“Is
that a warning?” I asked.

He
shook his head. “It’s a piece of friendly advice.”

The
door clicked shut behind him. Silence filled the room for a long moment.

“What’s
the plan?” Eric asked.

I
shook my head. “For now, there is no plan. I’m going to go meet with the mayor
and find out what she wants. After that,” I shrugged, “we’ll just have to wait
and see.”

*****

A
couple of streets over, a frumpy Hispanic woman named Carmella Delgado ran a
laundry service out of her house. I’d seen people picking up and dropping off
clothes there a few times in the last couple of weeks. If I was going to meet
with the town’s leader, I figured I should at least show up looking something
close to presentable. I stuffed a roll of toilet paper in a cargo pocket,
folded up my best pair of pants and a button down shirt, and knocked on the
little woman’s door. She smiled up at me when she answered.

“Can
I help you?” She asked, her accent thick.

“Um,
yes ma’am. I understand you can clean and press some clothes for me.”

“Sure,”
She said brightly, “what you need?”

“Just
washed and pressed would be fine.” I said, handing over the outfit. “They’ve
been in the bottom of a bag for a while.”

“No
problem. What you pay with?”

“Well,
I have this.” I dug the roll of toilet paper out of my pocket. “If it’s not
enough I could-“

“Deal.”
She said, snatching the roll away from me before I could finish the sentence.
Her smile widened. “Come pick up in an hour, okay?”

“That
would be great, thanks very much.”

She
waved and said goodbye, then closed the door. Something told me I just got the
short end of that particular stick, but I let it go. It was worth the price to
get out of doing my own laundry for a change.

A
shave and a haircut at the local barbershop was my next order of business. The
barber was a kindly old fellow named Benny who reminded me of my uncle Aaron.
He motioned for me to have a seat when I walked in and shook out a black apron.
I didn’t realize how long my hair had gotten until I sat down in the barber
stool and looked at myself in the mirror. Tangled black locks hung nearly to my
shoulders, framing a beard that a medium-sized bird could comfortably have
built a nest in.

“So
whadya have?” Benny asked, stepping on a pedal to lower the chair.

I
stared in the mirror and shook my head. “It’s been so long, I don’t even know
what to tell you.”

“Well,
if you trust me to it, I’ll work a little magic and have you looking good as
new.” The old man replied.

I
smiled. “Fair enough. No Mohawks, please.”

He
chuckled at that. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Half
an hour later, a thick carpet of dark hair covered the tiles at my feet. The
place looked like someone had detonated a black Labrador. I leaned forward to
look in the mirror, running a hand over my face.

“You
look about ten years younger, son.” Benny said as he reached for a broom.

I
almost didn’t recognize myself. So much time had passed since the last time I was
clean-shaven I had forgotten what I looked like under all that scruff. My head
looked a lot smaller with close-cropped hair. I paid Benny with ten rounds of
.45 ammo from one of the spare magazines for my pistol, and made my way home. Carmela
waved me down as I passed her house and brought out my clothes. They were
clean, dry, and pressed to perfection. She had even hung them up on little wire
coat hangers.

“This
looks great, ma’am. Thanks very much.”

“No
problem.” She replied, her bright smile revealing straight white teeth. “Come
back anytime.”

I
smiled back and walked home. Time to get cleaned up.

One
of the perks of being in such a small town was the local water tower.
Gravity-fed plumbing meant that even without electricity, we still had running
water. A sheriff’s deputy had briefed us our first night in town about water
restrictions, and made sure we knew to keep showers as short as possible. I
violated that rule. If this town wanted me to fight their battles for them,
they could damn well let me take a nice long shower.

I
showed up to the meeting a few minutes early, smelling like soap and wearing my
freshly laundered clothes. The town hall was a small affair with a building for
the Sheriff’s office attached on one side. A polite middle-aged woman and a
younger lady who looked to be in her early twenties greeted me at the front
desk when I walked in. I opened my mouth to introduce myself, but older woman
interrupted.

“You
must be Mister Garrett.” She said, peering at me through a pair of bifocals.

I
nodded. “That’s right. How’d you know?”

“Oh,
I know everyone around here. Besides, no one else in this town looks anything
like you do, sweetie.”

I
smiled at that. She had a point, I do tend to stand out a bit.

“Where
should I wait to speak with the mayor?” I asked.

“Go
on upstairs and take your first right. There’ll be a little room with a couple
of nice chairs in it, just wait there and Miss Stone will be with you shortly.”

I
climbed the staircase and took a seat in one of the plush leather chairs
standing against the wall outside the oak door to the mayor’s office. A soft
murmur of conversation drifted up to me from the front desk. I closed my eyes
and concentrated, slowing down my breathing. My ears are pretty sharp, and I
could just make out what the two ladies downstairs were saying.

“…well
I think he’s hot. He reminds me of Hugh Jackman, only taller and buffer.” It
was the younger one speaking.

“I
don’t know honey.” Came the older voice. “Did you see those scars? He might be
bad news.”

“I
like the scars. I always did have thing for bad boys. And you have to admit,
his body is pretty ridiculous. All that muscle.”

Who
the hell are they talking about?
I thought.
Can’t be me. They must be
looking at a magazine, or talking about a local boy, or something.

My
musings were interrupted when the door to the mayor’s office opened. An
attractive woman with long brown hair tied back in a loose bun and a broad,
disarming smile stepped out to greet me. She looked to be in her mid-thirties,
and wore a Florida State t-shirt over a pair of faded jeans. I made it a point
not to look at her chest. It wasn’t easy, she had a lot going on there.

“You
must be Gabriel Garrett.” She said.

I
stood up and smiled, figuring she must be the mayor’s assistant. “Yes ma’am. I
have a meeting with Mayor Stone this afternoon.”

“Come
on in.” She held the door open and allowed me inside.

Floor
to ceiling windows with cherry-stained wooden panes stood behind an unoccupied
desk with two chairs in front of it. The room was fairly small. A bookshelf
lined one wall, while picture frames displaying degrees from two different
universities adorned the other. The windows overlooked a well-tended lawn that
stretched out in front of the building. The woman who let me into the office
walked around the desk and stopped behind it, reaching out for a handshake.