The Dead Series (Book 2): Dead Is All You Get (28 page)

“I’ve lost hope,” I said.

“I still have enough for both of us. I love you.”

“I love you too. I wish …”

“Shh.”

After locking the door, Holly undid my belt, laid me down gently and reminded me of what we used to have when things were good and right, before all the craziness. I felt myself letting go of the pain. Things would work out somehow. We would survive and raise our child together. We would have a life again.

I kissed Holly deeply and fell into the sweet nothingness of lovemaking with the only person in this world who could save me. My one true friend.

Pederman refused to sit as he laid out the situation for us in the conference room. I had to give it to him, he was holding it together. I couldn’t have. All of us were there—Holly, Warnick, Springer, Erzen and Griffin. And Fabian, who kept his distance from me and avoided eye contact.

“Here’s what I know so far,” he said. “Our plans to rehabilitate homes and apartment buildings in the town have been put on hold. We are to focus solely on protecting the citizens here at the command center. That is our new mission.”

“What about the draggers?” I said.

“If we encounter them, we take them out. Now, the mayor has called a meeting at City Hall. I’m to report there at seven o’clock tonight. I’d like all of you to be there.”

“Better make sure we come armed. I wouldn’t want any surprises.”

“I agree. Everybody’s on edge. I think it’s reasonable that we take the appropriate precautions.”

“Is it true they’re ending our mission?” Warnick said.

“We’ll find out tonight.”

“Can they do that?” Holly said.

“Our contract with the city clearly states that, in cases of nonperformance, they have the right to early termination.”

“Nonperformance?” I said.

Pederman sat wearily. “My guess is, they’re going to bring up the incident at the checkpoint and claim that we needlessly endangered civilians.”

“But they were armed!” Holly said.

“Nevertheless.”

“And if we go, what happens to Tres Marias?” I said. “What happens to all these people we’ve been protecting?”

“Didn’t you hear the man?” Springer said.

“We’ll find out tonight,” we said in unison and laughed bitterly.

“I want out,” I said.

Holly sat next to me in the cafeteria, holding my hand as I stared at Warnick. As usual, his expression was inscrutable. I waited for him to react. Eventually he cleared his throat. “So, Dave, what are you thinking?”

“This thing is going south fast,” I said. “Pederman won’t have a choice except to do what he’s told, which means we have to do what the mayor says. I’m worried that if we remain with Black Dragon, we won’t be able to protect ourselves.”

“As civilians, you’ll be in an even worse position.”

“All we need are guns,” I said.

“If you leave us, you can’t keep your weapons, Dave. You know that.”

“I think I know where I can get some.”

“Guthrie? How will you get there without a vehicle?”

“I’ll find a way.”

“You mean, like Evie did?” Warnick appealed to Holly. Though we’d talked about this before meeting with Warnick, I knew she was scared. “Are you on board with this?”

“I think we need to take our chances. I’m afraid of the mayor.”

Warnick drained his soda and brought his hands together. For a second I thought he was going to pray over us. “It’s a bad plan. You have all our resources at your disposal here. Weapons, medicine, everything. Out there you’ve got nothing. Okay, some skills. But you’ve seen how even skilled people can die. No, it’s a bad plan and I’m opposed to it.”

“You can’t stop us, Warnick,” I said.

“True. But I don’t want to see you die out there.”

Holly smiled. “Warnick, are you going soft?” She reached over to pinch his cheek but he waved her hand away.

“But what about the mayor?” I said. “Warnick, he murdered those researchers and tried to kill the rest of us.”

“Dave, you’re always safer when you’re with the larger group. This is no different from Afghanistan. There, you have the ‘legitimate’ government, warlords and Taliban fighters. You can’t trust anybody. But what you don’t do is quit and go off on your own. That’s a ticket to a quick death.”

Though I didn’t like what Warnick was saying, it made sense.

“So we have to stay here and ride this thing out?” I said.

“Stay with the group. It’s the only way to survive. We’ve got your back.”

“Seriously, though,” Holly said. “What about the mayor?”

Warnick sighed deeply. “That’s an open question. Let’s see what he says at the meeting tonight.”

“I hate your logic,” I said.

As we got up to leave I tried to think of a way Holly, Griffin and I could find our way to Guthrie’s house on our own. Just in case.

Downtown Tres Marias
might have been described as charming back in the day. Quaint stores and restaurants used to line both sides of the main drag. On any Saturday night, teens in their parents’ late-model cars cruised, windows rolled down, music blasting. Families went to the movies, then to the Tip Top Café for milk shakes and ice cream sundaes. In darkened alleys, cops roughed up surly stew bums and hookers out of sight of the general populace. All very orderly.

That was the Tres Marias I remembered as we drove past the dilapidated Dunkin’ Donuts and approached City Hall. But what we saw was nothing like those memories. Shops were boarded up, most of their windows busted out. Trash lay strewn everywhere. Most of the buildings were bullet-scarred and bloodstained. It would take a crap-ton of money to make this place look habitable again.

Warnick and Springer sat in the front seat of our Humvee, with Warnick driving. Holly, Griffin, Fabian and I sat in the backseat—tightly squeezed. Greta rode in the rear. We’d treated this as a sortie and had come armed.

I tried to avoid looking as we cruised past Staples. I still had nightmares about my last day there—the day Missy attacked us in the store. The day I grabbed a policeman’s gun and shot down my manager and friend Fred Lumpkin as he staggered towards me, feverish and angry hot, determined to tear out my throat. But I looked anyway. The store was the same. The shattered windows, debris-filled parking lot. The outdoor lights illuminating the bloodstains on the concrete that even the rain couldn’t wash away.

“It’s so sad,” Holly said.

“You guys used to work there? At Staples?” Griffin said.

“Seems so long ago.”

Everything was wrecked, except for City Hall. It appeared to have been freshly cleaned and painted. The grass was cut, the hedges trimmed, and landscape lights shone on the building, making it appear almost as a white temple amid the rubble. My stomach twisted into a knot as we parked. The sky turned threatening and the air smelled like rain. The small parking lot behind the building already held a number of vehicles. I was glad I had my gun. We climbed out and did a sweep of the area, checking for draggers. Incredibly, the place was clear.

Pederman and Erzen waited outside the rear doors as we approached. Griffin had insisted we keep Greta with us, and I’d agreed. She and that dog were inseparable.

“Why don’t we meet over at the Beehive after for drinks?” I said. Holly glared at me. “Kidding. Nobody gets me.”

In truth, I wasn’t kidding. The trauma of the last few days had brought on a nasty thirst that consumed me. Every time I downed another Dew, I wished it was a beer. Warm or cold—it didn’t matter. The urge was always there—to drink and forget. Drunks never kid when it comes to booze.

“We still have a couple of minutes,” Pederman said. “Remember, stay cool. This situation is tense enough as it is. We don’t need any hotheads.” Though he didn’t look directly at me, I knew who he meant.

“I’m as reasonable as the next man,” I said. At the time I was standing next to Springer, who was picking his nose with a paper clip.

“That doesn’t give me a whole lot of comfort,” Pederman said. “I need you to keep it together.” He opened the door and held it for Erzen, Holly and Griffin to go through. A little civility in the middle of bedlam couldn’t hurt.

We marched through a dark hallway that smelled of old wood and moldy carpeting. On the walls hung framed black-and-white photos of various events from years past. I stopped at one of a Christmas parade from twelve or thirteen years ago. The crowd was clearly visible. There in the front, a cocky-looking kid with a huge grin waved frantically next to his mom, who seemed to be gazing off somewhere. He wore faded blue jeans and a black sweatshirt with a rendering of Arnold Schwarzenegger as “The Terminator.” The big guy was holding a massive gun, and the words
I’LL BE BACK
were emblazoned across the top.

That kid was me. Way before the drinking, when I used to play hockey like a skinny, crazed demon. Though my father had already passed away, I was a happy kid. Gave my mother hell, but she put up with it—I don’t know how. My eyes tearing up, I moved on, saying nothing to Holly. She probably would have stolen the photo. She was sentimental that way.

As we got closer I heard voices in the distance. One of them I recognized as the mayor’s. He and Walt Freeman were going at it—not in an open brawl kind of way, but they were definitely having a disagreement. As we passed through another set of doors, the voices fell silent.

The auditorium seemed large enough to accommodate five hundred people. Wrought iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their light sockets filled with CFC bulbs that gave off a yellowish glow. Rows of old wooden seats faced a huge, curved, raised dais. This was where the mayor and city council had sat in big, black leather chairs with high backs. Behind that was a stage, the heavy gold curtains drawn shut. On the floor directly in front was a table and chairs where, I assume, various aides sat. Towards the front row of seats in the center was a podium where ordinary citizens could come forward and complain about their water bill or the neighbor’s cat.

The mayor sat in the middle of the dais, with Walt Freeman to his left. The two cops, O’Brien and Hannity, sat on his right. And below at the table sat Becky, the pretty assistant, her laptop open and ready.

“Please make your way down toward the front,” Walt said, standing and gesturing, his voice echoing. “For some reason, the mikes aren’t working, and we don’t want to have to yell.”

Pederman led us single file to the front, where we took seats on the right in front of the imposing wooden structure. Greta lay at Griffin’s feet. Glancing at the dog, the mayor rolled his eyes. Walt, on the other hand, smiled generously. I did my best to contain the loathing I felt for the mayor. When our eyes met, he chewed his lip and looked away.

After a few moments the mayor struck his gavel and Becky began to type. “This special session will come to order. Let the record show that, in addition to the people representing the City of Tres Marias, the following people are in attendance.” He proceeded to read off our names from a printed list, and Becky typed them on her laptop.

“You forgot the dog,” I said. Then to Becky, “Let the record show, her name is Greta.” She tried not to smile as she typed.

Springer snorted and Pederman suppressed a grin. Ignoring us, the mayor flipped open a manila folder containing a sheaf of papers. “We planned to print the agenda, but we’re having problems with the printers. The first order of business is to talk about the security breach.”