Rise of the Huskers (The Raven Falconer Chronicles) (8 page)

“Gross dude, you’re covered in blood.  I could use the hug but shower before you try that again.”

Chief Darwin Gladue sat alone at the end of a long, oak conference table, his leather boots resting comfortably on the edge.  He leaned back, his bulky frame easily filling the large leather chair, which he’d pulled close to the table.  A timid knock sounded on the thick, frosted glass door that separated the conference room from a spacious hallway.  Through the murky haze Darwin recognized the immense shadow of his security man, Louis.

“Yeah,” he shouted, not taking the time to get up from his relaxed position.

The door swung open a few inches and the face of a giant appeared in the narrow gap, almost seven feet off the floor.  “You said to let you know when the GAW guys were here . . . they are.  What do you want me to do?”  The oversized security guard looked a little confused when his boss did not immediately reply.  Louis, or Lou as he was commonly known, was not an intellectual, by any stretch of the word, but he was exactly what Darwin wanted . . . he was loyal.  The two had been friends from their childhood, fighting their first battles together, drinking their first beers and kissing their first girls.  As Darwin had risen to prominence in the tribe, leveraging his understanding of spiritual matters to serve on the governing council, Lou had stayed in the shadows, helping his friend in ways not seen but felt throughout the community.  His hulk-like presence often dissuaded conflict before it could build steam, and now, as head of security, Chief Gladue knew he had a man he could count on.

“Chief?”

“I heard
ya . . . just thinkin’.  Make them wait ten minutes than bring them in.”

“But . . . you busy?” Lou questioned, looking about the empty space.

“No, not really, but I want them to stew for a few minutes before I talk with them.”

“Gotcha,” the behemoth acknowledged.

Louis gently closed the door and informed the three GAW leaders to have a seat.  The men quickly did as they were asked, without question.  Stories of the security guard’s strength had preceded him for years, and the much smaller men knew never to challenge him, even concerning insignificant details.  Lou stood over them, his hands held before him, fingers interlaced and thumbs rotating around one another.

Trevor
Arcand smiled and tried to converse with the all-too-serious gargantuan.  “You like working with Darwin?  You guys have been friends for a long time.”

“You mean Chief Gladue,” he said, correcting the informal nature of the slender man.

“Yeah, I guess,” Trevor replied, looking at the men seated on either side of him, shrugging his shoulders.

“Yes, the chief and I go back a ways.  What’s it to you?”

“Nothing, just trying to make small talk.  Listen man, we’re all friends here.  I think we’re on the same page, right?” Arcand intimated, sliding his darkened sunglasses from his nose and resting them on his head.

“Listen MAN,” Lou replied, his tone thick with sarcasm.  “I may hav
e to work with you because the chief wants me to but I don’t have to like you, or your buddies,” he said, sweeping his hands wide, narrowly missing slapping the two men on either side of the skinny GAW leader.

“Whoa, where did that come from?” Trevor asked.

“I’m watching you Trevor, you and all your minions.  You make one move I don’t like and I’ll deal with you, with or without Darwin’s permission.  I hope I’ve made myself clear.  Now get your asses out of those chairs . . . the chief will see you now.”

Louis opened the heavy door and ushered the trio inside.  Chief Gladue had assumed a more business like position behind the expansive table: his head down appearing to scrutinize a single sheet of paper in front of him.  “Thanks, Lou,” he said, without lifting his eyes from the page.  “Have a seat, boys.  I’ll be with you in a second.”

The three young men quietly walked to the end of the long slab of finely crafted wood and sat, Trevor taking the seat closest to the chief.  “What’s his problem today?” the GAW leader asked, after he heard the glass door seal the room shut.  Darwin glanced up for a moment but did not reply, opting to continue his perusal of the paper’s content.  Again, Trevor looked at his friends, lifted his shoulders and one brow.

Gladue finally pushed himself back a couple of inches and looked at the man directly.  He made it a point to initiate eye contact with each, sizing them up by peering into their soul, or at least, making them believe that he had.  Suddenly he smiled, easing the tension in the room.  “Thanks for coming.  You had an issue with Lou this morning?”

“Don’t think he likes us very much,” Trevor answered.

The reply brought a boisterous laugh from Darwin, who slapped a big hand down on the table, startling his visitors.  “Hell, boys, he doesn’t like anybody . . . don’t take it too personal, but if I were you, I’d steer clear of pissing him off.”

“Sounds like good advice,” one of the followers agreed.

“It is,” Gladue confirmed, in a more serious tone.  “Okay, let’s get to the reason for the meeting.  I’ve been going over our numbers this morning and can’t say that I’m all that pleased,” he said, leaning in towards Trevor, his forearms and elbows resting firmly on the table’s surface.

“How do you mean?” Trevor asked.

Chief Gladue lifted the paper from the table and read, “318 rescued survivors, 81 men over 18, 35 children and the rest women.”  He paused, bringing his gaze back to the young men.  “Not much of an army.”

“Yeah, but . . . ”

Darwin stopped him with a quick flick of his wrist, bringing his palm up and flush in front of Trevor’s face.  “I understand of the 81 men, there are a number who wish to be left out of a fight, any fight, for that matter.  Is that true?”

“I don’t know the exact number but there are some,” the GAW leader confirmed.

“Who?”

“You mean their names?” he asked.

Gladue moved in even closer, causing Trevor to lean in his seat.  “Exactly.  Who are they and what are their names.  I want you to write everyone of them down,” he said, sliding the single sheet of paper to the three and flipping it over on the blank side.

“Now?” Arcand asked, looking at his friends for help.

“Sure, why not?” the chief replied, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head.  The motion made the small
dreamcatcher, hanging from his ear, pivot and swirl before coming to rest at the side of his neck.

“I don’t th
ink . . . do you guys know? I mean, how are we supposed to know all of them?”

Chief Darwin Gladue suddenly lunged forward, slamming his fist down on the table, very near the blank-sided sheet of paper.  “Because it’s your job to know!  What abou
t that do you not understand?”  The intense glare coming from their leader was unmistakable and direct.  “How many areas are there still to search for survivors?” he asked, retreating slightly and calming his voice.

“Uh, none, or none that we can think of.  There are still a few hundred people unaccounted for but we
believe they must have gotten trapped in Calgary or someplace else when the virus hit.  John’s gone over the master list of tribal members and he’s pretty sure we’ve located everybody that can be found on the reserve.”  Trevor looked down the table at his friend who was nodding his head.  “That’s correct, right John?”  The fellow slowly agreed, avoiding eye contact with Gladue.

“Good work.”  The chief again lightened the mood with an almost imperceptible wry smile.  “I’ve been thinking about where we go from here but I wanted your confirmation on a few things first.”  Trevor signaled with a tip of his head as if he understood where the conversation was going.  “Perfect, so let’s see where we stand.”  Before he continued, Darwin sat back and appraised his guest’s demeanor, again smiling.  “Hell boys, you all look like you’re about to fill your shorts . . . relax.  I’ve not asked Lou to kick your asses . . . ah . . . yet.”  He laughed; enjoying the bit of torture he was putting the men through.  Standing, he walked around behind them and patted each on the shoulder.  “Just want you boys to be on the same page as me.  You good with that?”

“Oh yeah,” they each confirmed, in their own variation of the agreement.

“K, so are our borders secure?” he asked, still pacing the floor.

“We’ve got every main road blocked with armed men.  Nobody can get in or out without your permission,” Trevor gladly offered.

“Good, very good.  Secondary roads?”

“There are only a few that are even drivable right now and we don’t have permanent positions set up but I’ve got a roving unit checking on them every few hours.  They make a wide circle and they’re on it 24/7,” the GAW leader confirmed.

“Our supplies?  How much longer can we hold out before we have to secure more?”

“John, you take that one,” Trevor ordered, happy to be out of the spotlight for a minute or two.

“Well, I . . . I wish I could be sure but it doesn’t look like we’ve got as much stuff as we thought we had.”

“What?” Darwin’s voice growled, highlighting his displeasure with the response.  “What are you implying?  Have we got some thieves among us?”

“No, well at least I don’t think so,” John continued.

“You sure as hell better find out and let me make myself perfectly clear.  Do I have your attention?”  Gladue hustled to the opposite side of the table, leaned his tall, muscular frame over, and rested his hands flat on the wood surface.  He waited for each of the guests to appreciate his position and agree with his question.  “I will not . . . I cannot abide dishonesty . . . of any type.  Thieves will be executed . . . end of story.  I think I’ve made that clear to you . . . and, in fact, I’ll make it clear to everybody.”  The big man slowly wound his way around the table, thinking as he went.  “Okay, so how long?  At the rate we’re burning through the supplies, how long before we’re in trouble?”

John looked to the table, hoping the answer would suddenly appear there.  “My best guess would be three days on the inside and a week on the outside.  I don’t think people are stealing I’m pretty sure it’s just more survivors than we anticipated.”

“Okay, okay . . . good to know.  We need a tribal meeting . . . tonight.  Trevor, you’ve got a couple of hours.  I want those names.  You talk to every man and I mean every man 18 to . . . let’s say . . . 70.  Those unwilling to fight for our cause, you bring here in two hours.  I want to meet with them and explain our situation.  I think Lou and I can be a bit more convincing than GAW,” Darwin said, again smiling to himself.  “Tonight, six o’clock I meet with everybody in the lounge.  Make sure there’s room for everyone and John, tell the women to cut back on the meals.  We don’t need to stay fat, just alive.”

“Yes sir,” John blurted out, his enthusiasm not lost on Chief Gladue.

“I’ll see to that list and have them here in a couple of hours.  Anything else?” Trevor asked, praying there would be no further instructions.

“Not for you,” Darwin said, moving his dark eyes away from the GAW leader and letting them rest on the third of the party, who had been uneasily quiet throughout the meeting.  “
Ponyrider, you’ve been awfully quiet.  What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing really, just taking it all in and trying to make sense of it,” the good looking 24-year-old replied.

“How so?  You don’t like the way things are going?  Perhaps you’re unhappy with the new leadership?” Gladue asked, returning to his seat.  Away from the group’s view, he slowly slid a drawer open revealing the 9mm automatic he’d used a few days before to secure his position as tribal leader.  His hand casually found the grip and he returned his attention to Ponyrider.

“No, that’s not it.  That’s not it at all.  Can I be honest?”

“I’d expect nothing less,” Darwin confirmed.

“It was hard for me to be a part of the killing . . . you know . . . the people that were sick.”  He paused and looked to his hands, formulating what he might say to express himself without drawing the chief’s ire.

“Go on,” Gladue encouraged, his finger gently stroking the pistol’s trigger.

“I still think, I mean, I know it was the right thing to do but are we going to start attacking people who are healthy and just trying to survive?  There have got to be a lot of folks just like us that are trying to get through this.”

“There are, I’m sure, but in the bigger picture this is our time.  I thought we were clear on this point.  My vision . . . our vision for our future is much more than survival.  It’s about what is rightfully ours.”

“I get that and
I’m proud to be a part of it, but how do we achieve our goals without a slaughter?  I can’t help but think we’re going to bring the full weight of the Canadian military down on our heads.”

“You make good points.  Let’s look at them.  First, we’re not going to wholesale ‘slaughter’, I think was the word you used, anyone.  We’ll invite, albeit a forceful invitatio
n, those living within our God-given tribal land boundaries to leave.  I, and no one else, certainly not the Canadian government, will dictate the definition of said boundaries.  Those refusing will be dealt with.  Their infected will be treated as our own; they will be spared the life of a cannibal and relieved of their pain.  Are you all in agreement thus far?”

The three young men concurred with a simple nod.  However,
Ponyrider could not hold back, offering a quick, “But . . . ”