WWIV - Basin of Secrets (2 page)

With great intention to keep his gait slow, a lone man stepped between the dead bodies covering the stage. Some had bravely risen and faced their death. Others had turned and sought an exit. But none of their actions made any difference now; each was as dead as the next.
 

The tall, lanky man glared at the crowd whimpering before him. Slowly, maliciously, he grinned. Gazing blankly down, he stepped over the dead mayor. Only then did he notice the smattering of blood and brain material on his otherwise spotless boots.

“Cretins,” he whispered to himself. “They were all to be dead by the time I started out.” He shook his head in disgust. “Just how am I supposed to lead these people when I’m surrounded by so many morons?”

The crowd attempted to slip away as his eyes roamed the edges, but his troops moved in quickly, cutting off any escape routes. The man smirked as the crowd focused on him. Three hundred soldiers in red bandanas and armbands pushed the gathering closer to the stage. One last evil grin snuck out before he bent over and picked up the megaphone from where Marshall Erickson had dropped it.

Lifting the device to his mouth, the crowd heard it click to life. “Good morning people of Salt Lake,” he began in a nasally tone. Looking at the mayor behind him, he spoke again. “Let’s just call this
wonderful
place Salt Lake from now on. No more of this ‘Salt Lake Community’ crap.”
 

Not a sound, not a cry, not one single voice rose from the huddled mass.
 

Satisfied, he moved forward. “I am here today to free you from the bondage of a corrupt mayor and council. An evil body that made your life so much more difficult than need be.” Extending his left arm, he made a sweeping motion across the stage. “While this may seem extreme, you’ll have to believe me when I tell you it was the only way to free you.” No longer grinning, his voice softened. “And free you are, thanks to me and my people.”

With these words, the man watched as his army pushed the group closer. A young man, perhaps 12 or 13 years old, tried to dodge the guards and make a break from the carnage. When he didn’t heed the warnings from the troops, his skull received a crack from the wood butt of a rifle. The boy staggered and turned to face his oppressors. Reluctantly, he allowed himself to be drawn back to the crowd by several concerned citizens.

“Please pay attention, people,” the lone living man on stage called out without the megaphone. “The next five minutes will be very important, important to me and important to you. They may mean the difference between life…and death.” He paused to be sure he had everyone’s full attention.
At least your lives,
he thought to himself. “You see,” he shouted, without need for any amplification, “your council and fine mayor were nothing but a pack of liars. Liars and thieves. They haven’t told you the truth in years.” His head turned from side to side, letting everyone see his frown. “They’ve kept you like mushrooms, people – in the dark and covered with crap.”

A smattering of dissent moved through the crowd.
 

Unhappy with the interruption, the man raised his hand to quiet the scene. “I understand your concerns. And each of them will be addressed, in due time. For today, please try and keep an open mind to what I have to say.” He grinned again, a toothy grin exposing his dull grayed teeth to the people in the front rows. “If you listen to me today, I will listen to you in the future. I promise.”
 

“Why have you killed these people?” shouted a woman in the front row. “What did they ever do to you? And just who are you and your thugs?”
 

Focusing his attention on the gray-haired woman, he stepped several paces in her direction. “Fair enough,” he said, measuring his words. “Let’s answer those one at a time, shall we?”

Several brave souls nodded stoically, hoping to show more courage than they actually possessed.

“These people…” Again, he waved at the dead bodies. “…are traitors! They are traitors because they served their own interests, not yours.” Many heads in the crowd shook, showing their disapproval. “In time, you’ll see that. As for what they did to me? Well, they denied me admission, a presence if you will, in the very place that was purchased with my father’s sweat and tears – the city of my birth; the city of my youth. They branded my father and my brother as rebel scum. Even though they only served the best interest of the basin all of their lives, my father and brother were sought out and murdered by these people. Six years ago, they were brutally taken from my life.” He stared, his eyes narrowing. “Remember the saying, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’”
 

Hastily, he moved to the opposite side of the stage, continuing loudly. “These people you trusted for oh so long were liars. They wouldn’t even tell you my group’s proper name. They besmirched us at every opportunity.” He screamed, raising his red bandana over his head. “We are the Red Rangers, people. Not the Red Shirt Raiders.”
 

A loud, rousing cheer came from his soldiers circling the people, causing fear to move through the crowd.

“If they couldn’t even be truthful about our name, something that simple, what other lies have they filled you with?” he said.

“Who the hell are you?” a young man shouted from the middle of the crowd. Many nodded and followed with a chorus of “Yeah, who are you?”
 

The corners of his mouth rose, but only by a fraction of an inch. “I’m Willem Tarlisch. I guess you could say that given the circumstances, I’m your new mayor.” Turning his head away from the crowd, he spoke softly to the dead bodies. “Like it or not.” Focusing back on the crowd, he raised his arms over his head. “And I am here to lead you out of the wilderness. Away from this oppressive clan and into a better, brighter future. Just like the Prophet Smith did, so many years ago. Together, we will prosper. Together, we will all enjoy the fruits of our labor. Together,” his voice softened finally, “we will live as a free and decent society.”
 

A single clap began in the center of the crowd and spread, albeit sparse and unenthusiastic.

Tarlisch nodded several times, though the acceptance of his words was mostly quiet. “There are going to be some difficult changes we’ll have to make. All change, especially during these uncertain times for humanity, is difficult. But if we stay the course and all move to the same golden prosperous goal,” he paused, wiping away faux tears, “we just may make it, friends.” Surveying the group, he noticed more and more people paying closer attention. His heart raced, realizing the crowd just may be buying this. “And finally, after 12 long years of suffering, we may be able to do more than simply exist. We, my family, may live again. Just like the olden days.” A few more nods and positive looks. “Salt Lake will once again become the shining beacon of the West, the prosperous golden city that brother Smith brought our forefathers to.” More hearty applause broke out, even a few cheers. Tarlisch waved at the crowd, stepping from side to side on the stage, careful not to tread in any blood or gore.

After being dismissed by Tarlisch and his men, the crowd hustled away from the common area in front of the Masonic Temple, away from the death and back to their homes… and safety. Some cried as they walked, not believing what they had witnessed just moments earlier. Shock showed on many faces.
 

A raven-haired, slender woman stopped to catch her breath. With hands on his knees, her husband leaned against her.
 

“What the hell was that, Bets? And who
is
that guy?” Jeremy asked.

Betsi waved him to renew their jog home. Increasing their pace, they ran south on Windsor Street, only a half-mile away from the scene Betsi Albrecht had already tried to forget. When they turned south on Iowa Street, almost home, she finally walked.

Glancing back to be sure Jeremy was still there she began. “That’s Willem Tarlisch. You know him and his reputation.” When she looked into his eyes, she noticed no recognition. “Red Rangers, Jeremy. Come on, we know all about them and their shenanigans. And now we know they’re murderers. Like that’s any shock though.” She opened the back gate to their home and ran to the rear steps. “Come on, we need to hurry.”
 

Jeremy grabbed his wife’s wrist and pulled her to an abrupt stop.

“What?” she demanded, staring deep into his frightened eyes.

“Betsi, they just killed six people, and that Tarlisch acted like it didn’t bother him. Then his thugs surrounded us so we had to listen to some lecture about better times ahead. And then we sprinted home, and now you’re talking about hurrying?” He searched her eyes for something. “What gives? I need answers – and now, please.”

Betsi plopped onto the rear wood steps of their modest bungalow and rubbed her forehead. Jeremy could be so thick-headed sometimes. So believing in others. How could he not see the danger in staying here any longer?

“They want the town. And all the people. They’ll make all the people slaves for them now. They’ll expect us to do everything while they sit back and enjoy whatever we provide.”

“How do you know this?” he asked, taking a spot next to her on the step.

Sighing noticeably, she tried to smile at her husband of 10 years. “Jeremy, that’s why I went to so many meetings these past six years. I wanted to know what was going on out in the desert, the place where the Rangers had been banished.” He gave her another puzzled look.

“My Dad always warned me about Tarlisch’s group. Ever since he joined the Salt Lake Militia. He warned me it was only a matter of time before that ass did something like this. He waited for the militia to weaken. And now he’s here.”

“Betsi, there’s a lot more of us than them. We can band together and drive them out. They can’t win; we’ll crush them.”

Betsi’s head slumped forward. “Oh sweetie,” she began, “I love you dearly, but you don’t understand the big picture.” She turned to face him directly. “He has more than 2,500 men and women under his command in the desert. What we saw today was only a sliver of his power. And do you remember when the council called for arms about 10 years ago? Right after we got married?” He nodded his remembrance of the month-long event. “Well, he has control of them now. They’re all locked up in the basement of city hall.”

Jeremy’s mouth opened a little, but no words came out. His eyes showed his understanding of the news. “Most of our militia’s gone now,” he muttered. “They went to help secure Brigham City.” He stared at his wife’s hands, rubbing the corners of her eyes. “They’re 60 miles north of here.” Standing up from the porch, his left hand slowly came to his mouth. He turned back to face his wife.

She nodded slowly. “We don’t stand a chance. He has all the weapons, he has huge stables of people, and they’re all angry from living in the desert. Once they start, it will be like the Nazis taking over Paris.”

“We don’t stand a chance,” he added in a whisper.

“And that’s why we need to get packed and get out of here, sweetie.” Betsi stood and reached for Jeremy’s hand. “We’ll make it, but we got to get going this afternoon. We need to get out of here before he blocks all the roads.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek softly. “We have to get into the mountains and find my father. He has to be warned. And it’s our job to do it,” she whispered softly.

Jeremy nodded many times at his wife’s wisdom. Suddenly, he stopped, giving her a last puzzled look. “I thought your dad marched north with the militia,” he stated, seemingly unsure now what he had been told.

Betsi cringed at the statement. Slowly her eyes met his. “Dad had heard rumors of Tarlisch having it in for him. The mayor and the council thought it was better if he went somewhere until the rumors blew over.” She paused, thinking of her father. “So to be honest, he’s not up in Brigham City. He’s in the mountains to the east. In a small encampment with some displaced people.” She sensed the betrayal in her husband’s eyes. Looking away, she heard him spit.

“Where is he then, Bets?” he asked. “And the truth this time.”

Standing, she took Jeremy’s hands in hers and came clean. “He’s about 30 miles east of here. I’m not 100 percent certain of what the camp is called, but I’m sure we can find it.” His eyes narrowed. “Honestly, that’s all I know, sweetie.” Starting for the back door, she called to him one last time. “We need to hurry. We have to figure out what to pack and what to leave. We can only take what we can carry, okay?” With her eyes, and a pained smile, she pleaded with her husband to drop the questioning.

“How long?” he asked quietly.

“What?”

“How long do you plan on us being gone?”

Her eyes fell, no longer willing to take the disappointment from Jeremy. “I don’t think we’re ever coming back. So pack all you need.”

Solemnly, she entered the house alone.

Inside the old stone temple, Tarlisch and his men set about finding the objects of their desires, his desire. Striding confidently down the marble hallway, he spun into the office marked “City Clerk” over the door.

“Get digging, men,” he called to his group, pointing at the gray metal file cabinets on the far wall. “We’re looking for militia locations and census records first.” Six of his most trusted comrades read the small typed labels on the front of each drawer.
 

Finally, one called back. “Militia over here, sir.”
 

Tarlisch grinned. Now he’d have information at his fingertips that would have taken months of reconnaissance before this. The musty odor of old paper filled the room as he moved closer to the reports being spread out on the conference table for his inspection.

“Find out if Talbot Bond went north with them.” Tarlisch stroked his thin cheeks as two soldiers ran through the reports. “I think he’s a captain now, almost certain of it.” His words trailed off, as did his thoughts. Finding Bond was his first priority, but there were others as well.

Turning quickly, he spotted another pair of men lounging by the door. “I have three names for you to find on the census, boys. Three families I’m just dying to meet.” Taking a small slip of paper from his shirt pocket, he handed it to one of the two. “Kane, Cormat and Williamson. First names are all on there.” He turned to check on the progress of the others, but called back with an afterthought. “I want addresses and family members. I’d like to make some visits tomorrow.”