Death Springs Eternal: The Rift Book III (39 page)

“Well, it seems the general, the guy who put this whole organization together, has an eye out for your lady. So I was supposed to come get her, then get rid of
you
in the process.”

Josh gulped.

“That’s right,” said Pitts. “If I wasn’t having a crisis of conscience today, you’d be one dead-ass fuck.”

“And what about the others?”
Josh asked, in shock, his voice barely a whisper.

“The
Meat Market
.
That’s what all the
boys’re
calling it. Getting all the girls together—from your group, and a bunch brought back from
Pittsburgh
around the same time you got here—and selling ‘
em
off.”

“Holy fuck.”

“I know. Even with all I seen,
that’s
some fucked-up-shit. Ain’t right, no
see
, no way, no how.”

Pitts twirled around and started storming down the steps again. Josh stayed on his heels, peppering him with questions. Once more his mind swirled with horrible images of what would happen to his friends, to his love, his unborn child, only they were new scenarios of torment this time. He actually wished for the old ones to come back.

When they reached the ground floor, Pitts opened the door slightly, peered through the crack, and then urged Josh to join him outside. They exited into a brick-walled alley lined with garbage. In the dim radiance coming from streetlamps a hundred feet away, the knotted forms of the stuffed plastic bags looked like discarded bodies.

“Listen,” said Pitts, his tone hushed. He pointed down the alley in the opposite direction, the side bathed in darkness. “Stay that way. The south end of the city isn’t lit up yet. Hide out for the night, and tomorrow. When the sun goes down, the
boys’ll
have their fun. That’ll leave only the COC guys on patrol. A mistake if you ask me, they ain’t all that trustworthy, but hey, they didn’t…” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, don’t let
no one
see you, and get the fuck out the city quick as you can.”

Josh shook his head.
“Can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not leaving them behind. I can’t.”

Pitts chuckled.
“Your funeral, fucker.”

“So says you.”

He started walking away, saying, “I don’t care what you do, just stay outta sight until tomorrow night. Got it?”

“And what’re
you
gonna do?”

Turning to him, his air serious, Pitts said, “I’m getting the fuck outta dodge, hombre. This place ain’t for me no more.”

With that, the man turned the corner and joined a throng of soldiers as they passed by. Josh took that as his hint and ran the other way, heading into the darkness.

CHAPTER 14

A TALE OF TWO KINGDOMS

Allison’s eyes gazed into nothingness. Tom snapped his fingers, waved his hand in front of them, backed up and made quick forward motions trying to scare her, but still she didn’t budge. It was as if she’d gone catatonic on him.

He slumped down in the chair opposite her and tugged on his virtually nonexistent hair. Allison hadn’t spoken in going on four days now—ever since he’d betrayed their friends. When that was all over, after the shots had been fired and the men who’d come to treat him as one of their own had been slaughtered, she’d retreated within herself, sealing him out in the process. Nothing seemed to break through to her, not even Shelly. The little girl would lay in her lap, crying for mommy to wake up and play with her, but there was no response. She simply sat there, mindlessly chewed food or sucked on a straw when they were placed in her mouth, soiled
herself
, and stared straight ahead. Even though she existed in a physical sense, she’d become dead inside.

Just like the rest of the world
.

Tom shook his head. He felt tears coming on, and he lifted his chin to stare at his wife once more, allowing guilt to churn in his gut.
I
will
have this
, his free will demanded.
I deserve it.

But, of course, it didn’t last. As soon as those pangs of human emotion entered his psyche, there was his master, returning to his mental web and clearing the detritus away.
You will not worry yourself with such uselessness
, it said.
You have a greater duty to perform, one that ends with you by my side.

Tom nodded, though not a part of him wanted to.

Someone rapped on the door. Shelly, her head buried in her mother’s thighs, looked up. She’d been crying, and her puffy eyes glimmered in the soft lighting. Tom glanced at the clock.
11:13 PM
.
She should be asleep already
, he thought.
It’s past her bedtime.

Then those thoughts disappeared.

He stood up without looking at his daughter again, crossed the room, and opened the door. A pair of soldiers stood there—young kids, no more than Doug Lockenshaw’s age, a realization that caused another swell of shame for the alien conscience to obliterate.

“Mr. Steinberg?” one of the soldiers asked.

Tom nodded.

“Please come with us, sir. The general will see you now.”

“Will do.
One moment please.”

Tom strolled back across the room. He lifted Shelly from beneath her arms, stood her up straight, and brushed back her hair. He then did the same with Allison, whose body responded like some huge action figure. After he flattened the wrinkles in her blouse and skirt (which he’d labored to dress her in), he knelt in front of his daughter once more.

“Darling, we must present our best face to the powerful man,” he said. “Do you understand?”

“You’re not daddy,” Shelly replied. “You’re Sam. I don’t like you.”

“Don’t be silly.” He pinched his cheeks between his fingers and pulled her face close to his. “I
am
your daddy. I always have been
,
I always will be. It’s best you remember that.”

Shelly recoiled, moving behind her mother’s legs and hiding there.

“That’s better,” Tom said.

I love you baby girl, forever and ever
, his mind screamed, but it was quickly silenced.

He walked out of the renovated apartment complex he’d been calling home, tugging Allison along behind him, and followed the soldiers across the street. Streetlights shone down, turning the road into a checkerboard of light and darkness. There were no automobiles parked at the curb, giving the space a wide-open feel. He heard raucous laughter coming from a brightly illuminated building, along with the constant tinkle of glasses clanked together. His mind retreated backward, recalling the times he’d sit alone in the back of his federally supplied town car, sipping on his scotch and puffing a cigar. Other circumstances came to mind, occasions when he’d gone to bars much like this one, using the dim and deafening settings to craft all manner of surreptitious deals with powerful men. He’d been so confident then, so full of answers. Now he was nothing. If not for his master, he imagined he’d be a lot like Allison—an empty shell.

These were his thoughts as the guides escorted his family up the steps of the
Richmond
Town Hall
. It was a beautiful building, capturing
Virginia
’s rural roots with its wide white columns while simultaneously representing the height of modern urban architecture with its penchant for oversized windows and ornate brickwork. The two boy soldiers held open the front doors, and Tom pulled his family through.

The office they eventually arrived at was large but sparsely furnished. A few framed documents adorned the wall, along with three amazingly detailed watercolor paintings of a woman with red hair and green eyes. There was a middle-aged man sitting behind the desk, a man of below-average height and attractiveness. The only thing that stood out about him was his eyes, which were achingly gray, staring at Tom from beneath a head of mostly white hair. When this man nodded, the soldiers who’d brought them in offered a brisk salute, backed out of the room, and closed the door. In the recesses of Tom’s mind, his master expressed his approval.

This is the one who would be king
, the voice said.
Proceed with caution.

Tom turned to his family. He lowered Allison into a chair against the wall and crossed her hands over her lap, manipulating her like a doll. Then he gestured for Shelly to sit beside her, which the young girl did, nestling her head of curly hair into the crook of her mother’s arm, hiding her face.

“That’s my girls,” said Tom. “Now sit tight.”

He faced the man-in-charge once more. Neither said a word. Tom felt overwhelmed with nostalgia, and his old self started to resurface. This wasn’t his first go-round with a man of influence, and the quiet, sizing-up moments were what he excelled at.

Finally, the man behind the desk flinched. His eyes dropped and he cleared his throat.

“So,” he said, “you must be Thomas Steinberg.”

Tom cleared his throat as well—a reciprocal gesture, demonstrating a shared state of mind—and replied, “I am.”

“You look different than I remember.”

“I’ve lost a few pounds, but I am still me.”

“I realize that,” the man said sternly, as if he’d just been insulted. “I was simply commenting on how much you’ve changed.”

“I hope it is for the better.”

“Not entirely.”

“Opinions are opinions, or so they say.”

The man nodded.

“So you know my name,” said Tom, “but I haven’t been given the pleasure of yours…”

The man stood up, again considering Tom with those chilly gray orbs. “General Bathgate,” he said.
“Commander General of the Soldiers of Newfound Freedom, leader of the New United Brotherhood.”

“Pleased to meet you, General,” Tom answered.

Bathgate grunted, walked out from behind his desk, and clasped his hands behind his back. “Time will tell if the feeling’s mutual,” he stated. “However, many of my reservations may be resolved if you answer a question.”

“Which is?”

“Why the fuck did you demand to see me?”

Tom grinned. “As presumably the last member of not only the Cabinet, but the entire United States Government left standing, it would be my duty to meet with the military leaders and discuss an appropriate plan of act—”

The general silenced him with a wave of his hand.

“The
US
doesn’t exist anymore,” he growled. “You hold no sway here.”

“That may be so,” said Tom, “but—”

“But nothing.
Right now, the three branches of government have as much meaning as the power structure of ancient
Mesopotamia
. You’re a representative of a dead culture, Mr. Steinberg.”

Tom nodded.

“Let’s just say you haven’t quelled any of my fears with that answer.”

“Well,” said Tom with a grin. “You didn’t let me finish.”

“So finish.”

“I will. As I said, it
would
be my duty to meet with you, but as
you
so ably stated, the power structure didn’t survive the apocalypse. Go figure. But luckily you did, and you created something wonderful. Just look at what you’ve accomplished with the revival of this city. It’s an achievement you should be proud of.”

“Thank you,” said the general.

“No problem. On the other hand, you must realize there are other organizations out there just like yours, groups of individuals with the same endgame in mind. It is only a matter of time before you discover each other. The question is, will you cooperate or clash?”

Bathgate frowned. “What are you getting at, Steinberg?”

“I’m not a representative of a dead culture, General,” said Tom with a grin, “but one that’s alive and quite well.”

The general laughed. “Is that so? And I suppose you’re here to issue a set of demands?”

“In a way, I suppose.”

Pulling his sidearm, Bathgate strode up to Tom and pressed the barrel against his cheek. Tom wanted to shriek and run away, but the presence inside him kept his jaw rigid, his eyes
piercing,
his smile unwavering.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he said.

“And why not?”
Bathgate growled.

“You don’t know what you’re dealing with. You don’t know the power our leader possesses. Even as we speak, his army is steadily moving in on this city. Our forces outnumber you ten-to-one. Should you choose to act rashly, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“And I’m supposed to believe this…why?
Because you used to be someone important?
I don’t think so. I’ve seen nothing to indicate another colony of survivors has banded together, especially one as large as you say. Hell, when my boys found you ten days ago, you were running from a group of harmless douchebags west of here. That doesn’t fly with your story.”

Tom’s hand reached up, grabbed the gun barrel in his fist, and brought it up to his temple. He heard Shelly gasp. She was probably hiding behind her mother, and he realized that if she were to survive all of this, she would be in desperate need of therapy. He wanted to rush over, take her up in his arms, and hold her tight to his chest, whispering into her ear how he’d make everything all right.

But he didn’t. He considered the general instead.

“The circumstances of my arrival are irrelevant,” he said. “You can believe me or not believe me. That’s your choice. But for your peoples’ sake, don’t underestimate what you may face in the future. Truth be told, our leader doesn’t want a fight. He’s simply searching for someone, someone who wronged him. He feels the need to set things right, and the rest of our people can’t move on until this particular individual is brought to justice. And to show his good graces, he’s more than willing to leave you on your merry way if you assist in his search.”