Fight for Power (27 page)

Herb rummaged around in a bag at his feet and pulled out some body armor. “You better put this on,” he said, trying to hand it to Lori.

“I already have a vest.”

“You do?”

She pulled open her jacket to show him. “Yes, Adam gave it to me.”

“What a nice present for a boy to give a girl these days,” my mother said. She threw me a hard look. “And just what were
you
planning on wearing?”

“This is
your
body armor?” Lori questioned.

“I wanted to make sure you'd be safe.”

“And that you wouldn't be? How do you think I'd feel if you went out without anything and got hit?” Lori demanded.

“How do you think
I'd
feel knowing that I kept the armor and sent you out without—”

We were back to the same argument we kept having these days. Was it an argument? Or was it a conversation? I couldn't tell.

“This is all very sweet,” Herb said. “Let's just not let ‘sweet' get in the way of ‘smart.' Adam, you know that nobody should leave the neighborhood without body armor.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“Sorry is good as long as you don't let it happen again.” He handed me the extra armor and I slipped it on. “You're too valuable to this entire neighborhood to risk your life.”

“And too valuable to
me
,” my mother said.

Herb turned to her. “What's the situation on the walls?”

“We're all set,” she said. “I'll be monitoring the patrols on the walls. Howie and Brett and their patrols are definitely in place by now. I just wish I could go out there, too, but the captain has to stay with her ship.” She looked at Lori and me. “You two take care of each other.”

I nodded. Herb hadn't wanted Lori to come out in the first wave, but I'd convinced him. She had the best relationship with the tent people, and having her there would be good for them if not necessarily for her.

“It's time to go,” Herb said.

We walked along the inside of the wall to join a group of guards already assembled at the gate. Herb insisted that Lori be at the rear, which meant I had to be there, too. As we arrived at the gate Herb gave the word. Slowly one of the two heavy wooden doors swung inside. He stepped out first and was followed by the long column of guards. Lori and I followed behind the last two men through the gate. The line from my neighborhood stretched before us, and while the main group was filing down the path, others started to fan out along the edge of the woods.

“Your attention, please!” It was Herb's metallic voice blasting from the bullhorn. “We are coming out to offer assistance. We are coming to help. Please do not fire, please do not fire on us!”

I could feel my adrenaline starting to surge with each step we took. Now I was glad not to be at the head of the line and equally glad that I had on body armor again. Giving it up had really been more stupid than sweet. I could have gotten Lori another suit instead of giving her mine.

We hit the edge of the forest. We were now more protected from view and more vulnerable to attack. Again, I was grateful to have so many people in front of me. The sounds of feet on gravel and bodies moving through the brush should have been reassuring but were ominous because there was no other noise. The air was tinged with the smell of smoke, the residue of last night's fires. We came up to Herb's side.

“You two stay right together, understand?” Herb said.

“Like glue,” Lori said, and gave a weak little smile.

She looked scared and I was working hard not to be scared.

Herb gestured—a slight movement of his head—to the left. Among the trees lay two people, obviously dead, and three of our men standing over them.

Lori gasped and skidded to a stop.

“C'mon,” I said as I followed Herb.

Now there was noise up ahead, the sound of many voices.

We quickly came upon the center of their little compound—the people who had been burned out of their condo had encountered tragedy again. There was utter chaos, tents shredded to pieces or burned to nothing, a few people standing around, or huddled on the ground, crying, yelling, and our guards everywhere.

I scanned the scene, desperately looking for Madison and Elyse—and there they were. They came running toward us. Both of them wrapped their arms around Lori. Madison was weeping and Elyse was talking, but her words hardly made sense. Repeatedly she tried to talk and each time just dissolved into tears, Lori comforting them as if they were both her children.

I felt uncomfortable, but I also needed to know what had happened. I edged away to where Herb was standing around the center fire pit, surrounded by other people from the tent town.

It was like everybody was talking, but nobody was saying anything. There was so much desperation in their voices, in their expressions.

“Everybody, stop!” Herb yelled.

I jumped. It was so rare to hear him raise his voice.

Everyone fell silent. Herb pointed at one man. “Friend, I need you and only you to tell us what happened. Understand?”

It was Mr. Armstrong. I knew him, but I didn't know if Herb even knew his name. His eyes were wide, his expression glazed, his face dirty, hair sticking up, and what might have been blood on his jacket.

Another man started to talk, and Herb held up a hand to silence him. Herb then looked from person to person to emphasize his point. They all looked too beaten, too scared to argue.

“Now, please, talk to us,” he said to Mr. Armstrong.

“They came—there were a lot of them,” he said. “We couldn't tell for sure how many. It was just so confusing. They were like shadows and they swept in before we knew what was happening. They began firing at people, shooting into tents, setting them on fire. It was all so fast we couldn't even defend ourselves.

“They shot people who weren't even fighting back, who didn't even have weapons. They just shot people who were standing there with their hands raised and—”

“Do you know how many were killed?” Herb asked.

Mr. Armstrong shook his head. “The woods … plus we haven't looked in all the tents and—” Mr. Armstrong stopped midsentence, overcome.

In front of me I noticed two men from our neighborhood tending a woman and a small child, huddled together on the ground. As our men unwrapped the victims' blanket I could see red, raw, burned skin on the mother's arm. I shuddered. One of the men was Dr. Morgan. I hadn't even realized that any of our medical people had come out with us.

“And then we saw the lights go on and the shots being fired from the walls, and then that horrible, wonderful yelling, and suddenly they were gone,” Mr. Armstrong said.

“Thank you for what you did,” one woman said, and others echoed her.

“I'm sorry we couldn't have done more,” Herb said.

We all knew there was more we could have done, but didn't.

“We're going to have to take the injured inside the walls to be treated at the clinic,” Dr. Morgan said.

I looked at Herb for his reaction. There was none.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” a woman sputtered through her tears.

“But what about the rest of us?” a man asked.

“We'll have our men search the woods and make sure your attackers are gone,” Herb said. “We have guards stationed up on the streets. You're safe.”

“Will they be here tonight to protect us?”

“We can leave guards out tonight,” Herb said.

“And after tonight?” the woman demanded.

“We'll talk to the committee. But we can offer you no guarantees.”

“But what's to stop them from coming back?” the man asked.

“Nothing,” Herb said. “Nothing. And they will be back. If not in two nights, then four. If not them, then somebody else just like them.”

“But what are you saying?”

“You'd be wise not to stay here any longer,” Herb said. “It isn't safe.”

“But where can we go?” the man demanded.

“I don't have any answers,” Herb said.

“You could let us into your neighborhood!”

I could see that every person was now listening, waiting, hoping.

“I'm sorry, but you can't come in,” Herb said.

His words hit hard. The brief second of hope had been slashed.

“You don't have to feed us; we just need the protection of the walls,” the man pleaded.

“We can't let you in and
not
feed you,” Herb said, “so we can't let you in.”

“But if we can't stay here, and you won't let us in, then what's to become of us?” the man asked.

Others joined in, trying to talk, asking questions.

Herb held up his hands and with that one gesture silenced everybody.

“We are not responsible for your lives!” Herb said. “For now, you're safe. For now, we'll take care of the wounded. Does anybody object to the wounded being cared for?”

“Of course not,” the man said.

“Then we'll do what we can,” Herb said. “You'll have to be grateful for what we can do instead of angry about what we can't.”

 

26

Late that morning, the committee members sat around our living room after calling an emergency meeting to discuss the attack.

“To begin, what precautions have been put in place to protect the survivors in the tent town?” Judge Robertson asked.

“As Herb promised, I've made arrangements to establish a sentry line this evening,” Howie explained.

“I'm worried about our people being outside the walls at night,” my mother said.

“We should be worried,” Herb agreed. “They're in danger and potentially could only stop a small force.”

“Should I put out more guards?” Howie asked.

“That just puts more people at risk. We have to remember that if a sentry line could provide security, we wouldn't have had to build walls around our neighborhood. Our guards being out there guarantees nothing but that the guards themselves are at risk,” Herb said.

“A risk we've agreed to take tonight,” my mother said.

“Yes, of course,” Herb added. “It's the least we can do … and probably the most as well.”

“This is all so unfortunate, but in some ways it was predictable,” the judge said. “We have been given reports by the away team of increasingly violent gangs operating at night, stealing and looting and preying on the unarmed and vulnerable.”

Brett had been telling everybody that the area was a combat zone. I had been starting to wonder if he was just saying things like that to make him and his men seem more like action heroes. But after tonight, well, who could argue?

“It's unfortunate that our away team wasn't there to intercept this group,” Councilor Stevens said.

“Or fortunate,” Herb countered. “They could have been easily surprised, outnumbered, and overwhelmed. The death count could have been higher and would have included members of our neighborhood.”

“Is there a final number?” the judge asked.

“Fifteen people were killed in the initial attack,” my mother said.

“And two of the people who were severely burned did not survive,” Dr. Morgan reported. “Given the severity of their burns and the limits in our facilities, there was nothing we could do for them.”

“We all know you did your best,” the judge said.

“We treated and discharged those with minor injuries. Three others still remain in our facility. I think two of them will be fine, but the third will require long-term care, assuming he survives.”

“Please update us again tomorrow. So at present there are seventeen souls lost. What do we know about the actual attack?” my mother asked.

“From interviews with the survivors,” Herb said, “an unknown number of heavily armed and masked men—”

Councilor Stevens sat up. “Masked? That's somehow even more horrible. Are you sure they were masked?”

“That's what we were told. They were wearing dark masks and dark-colored clothing.”

I looked at Herb for his reaction, but he might as well have been wearing a mask himself—there was nothing.

“They swept into the camp and began firing their weapons. They simply discharged weapons into tents—more than half the people killed were found still inside, under covers—and they then proceeded to shoot down anybody they came across.”

“Did they take anything?” Howie asked.

“There are no reports, but it's likely that they could have looted tents without any witnesses,” Herb answered.

“Or perhaps the lights and display of force from the walls chased them away before they had a chance to steal anything,” Judge Roberts suggested.

“Yes, perhaps that was it,” Herb agreed.

I could tell Herb was just agreeing even though he didn't mean it. I was positive there was something more about this that he was thinking and not talking about. I'd gotten to the point that even if I didn't know what he was secretly thinking, I knew when he was doing it.

“As well as discharging weapons they proceeded to set fire to tents,” Howie said. “Perhaps that was done as a way of creating a diversion.”

Again I looked at Herb to see if he agreed with this. Again his mask was in place.

“Herb?” I called. He turned around. “You don't think what happened out there makes sense, do you?”

He stayed silent for a moment and then slowly shook his head. “I have some questions.”

“What sort of questions?” my mother asked.

I didn't know if me calling him out would cause him to talk or to clam up, so I was relieved when he started telling us his theory.

“The whole thing doesn't add up. Why would somebody attack, wasting valuable assets—ammunition—and risk their lives for no gain?” he asked.

“Like the judge said, I was just assuming that we chased them away with our lights and gunfire before they could get what they were after,” Howie said.