The Razor's Edge: A Postapocalytic Novel (The New World Book 6) (8 page)

He was greeted soon after with room service and a fresh set of clothes. The two things he wanted more than the eggs Benedict and Egyptian cotton sheets were his phone and a weapon. He could only imagine how terrified Samantha and Haley were. Once again he had taken a chance and gotten captured. But looking at his treatment so far, it didn’t appear he was a captive but a guest. He hoped to find out soon and that it would be the latter. Or was this some sort of scheme? Thoughts of John Steele and what looked like his death darkened his already somber mood. If he survived, he’d have to explain to John's wife and son how he'd put John in harm’s way, which caused his death.

He and Jacques had forged a treaty months ago, which included a clause to mutually support each other with military aid and support, to include troops, but as soon as Gordon called on him after his defeat at Mountain Home, Jacques was unresponsive, proving Jones and John correct in their earlier assessment of him.

Gordon walked to a large window and looked out. The snow-covered mountains were majestic and sloped down to the banks of the Bow River. This was truly a beautiful location, and if one had to be a prisoner, this was a nice spot for it as opposed to the scorching dry desert east of Barstow.

The door to his spacious room opened.

He turned to see a young attractive woman step inside; behind her two men carried a folding table and white sheets.

“What’s this?” Gordon asked.

“Hello, Mr. President, my name is Megyn; I’m the prime minister’s chief of staff. He thought you’d like a massage before your meeting,” Megyn said as the men set up the massage table.

“Um, no, thank you,” Gordon said awkwardly. This entire situation was beyond odd.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I can have either a man or woman perform the treatment, you merely need to tell me what you want.”

“I’m sure, one hundred percent. I’ll pass,” Gordon said.

She snapped her fingers and the two men folded the table back up and exited. “Can I get you anything in the meantime?”

“I’m good, but you can answer a couple of questions,” Gordon said walking towards her.

The woman’s thick brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun and her posture was erect; she definitely must have worked here during its heyday. “Not sure I can answer everything, but please ask.”

“Where is President Cruz?”

“He’s a floor down from you.”

“You mentioned I had a meeting soon. I imagine it’s with Jacques?”

“Yes, sir, it’s with the prime minister.”

“Can I leave the room if I want?”

“Not right now, so sorry, sir.”

Gordon thought about anything else he could ask, but he was sure she knew nothing, and if she did, she wouldn’t divulge it.

“Will that be all?” she asked.

“That’s it, thank you.”

Megyn turned but stopped short of leaving. She pivoted back to face Gordon and said, “Can I give you some advice?”

“Why not, I can use all the advice I can get now.”

“Do as he says. If you think you have one up or believe you can get one up, put those thoughts away. The prime minister is a master at this; he’s always more than two steps ahead of everyone.”

“That’s interesting advice,” Gordon said.

“I only offer that wisdom because I hear you have a reputation.”

“I hear that, what have you heard?” Gordon asked.

“That you’re a strong man, very resourceful but you’re also impulsive. Now unless there’s anything I can get you, I’ll take my leave,” Megyn said and left.

It wasn’t the first time Gordon had heard those descriptions. He would heed her advice, at least until that powerful urge hit him to take action. He turned back to the window and looked out. This entire thing was strange, but then again, the world had been turned upside down for some time. He knew that the pleasantries would come to an end soon and he’d have the major question answered as to what Jacques truly wanted.

Cheyenne, Wyoming, United States

“What do you mean there aren’t any remains of the president?” Baxter asked.

“Just that, sir, we haven’t yet been able to find anything, but that doesn’t mean we won’t. The bomb was placed in the floor underneath the first row of pews. That is where the president normally sat, so it’s quite possible his body was obliterated but normally we find a piece, something that we can use to identify. A finger or toe, even an eyeball to match against the biometrics we had for him. As you know, it’s a mess and will take some time to comb through everything,” the coroner replied.

“I just would like a confirmation. What about the remains of his personal protection detail, any of them?” Baxter asked.

“We’ll know soon, sir.”

“Keep me and only me apprised, do you understand?” Baxter ordered.

“Yes, sir,” the coroner said and got up to leave. “Sir, you seem to think the president might not have been there. Is there something that leads you to that thought?”

“I’m just being thorough is all,” Baxter answered although he was growing increasingly doubtful. At first it appeared Cruz was dead as he was scheduled to be there, but two survivors recalled not seeing him there. When that word trickled down to Baxter late last night his excitement at being the new commander in chief waned. Had Cruz survived?

“I’ll go back and continue the work, sir, and one other thing, if the president is alive, where is he?”

Baxter didn’t want to answer that. He gave the coroner a hard look and said, “Thank you for coming. Keep me informed.”

The coroner opened the door but was pushed aside as Eli Bennett barged in. “We need to talk.”

Laura, Cruz’s executive assistant, came in right behind Eli. “Sir, you’re not allowed in here.”

Baxter leered at Eli. “You need to schedule time with me. This is highly inappropriate.”

Eli walked up to the desk and asked, “Why haven’t you been sworn in?”

“Sir, you have to leave,” Laura demanded.

The coroner still hovered in the doorway, curiously watching the dramatic scene.

“Laura, it’s fine. Please go and take the coroner with you,” Baxter ordered. He stepped out from behind his desk and walked to the door and locked it. He turned back to Eli and asked, “What are you doing here? Just your mere presence looks suspicious; are you a damn fool?”

“Answer me,” Eli said referencing his first question.

“We’re conducting an investigation. I’m in charge, but I haven’t taken the formal steps.”

“You need to do so immediately,” Eli barked.

“Why? What difference does it make? If Cruz is dead—”

“If? He’s dead and you’re now the next in line,” Eli scolded.

“We don’t know if he is dead. What, are you deaf?” Baxter replied. “Last night two survivors mentioned not seeing Cruz there. I called the coroner and asked him if they had found any evidence, body parts, something that would confirm Cruz was there, and guess what, he hasn’t.”

Eli’s expression went from anger to shock. “That’s impossible. He goes there every Friday, Sunday and all holidays, like clockwork.”

“Well, maybe he got wind of your little plan and is in hiding somewhere. Maybe he’s trying to smoke us out and your dumb ass is running around doing victory laps, barging into my office and being seen around the executive offices when you’ve never stepped foot in here before. You’re making this look bad, and I suggest you cool down and tell your friends to be patient.”

“Could he be alive?” Eli lamented.

“He could be.”

“I have to tell the others,” Eli said, racing back to the door.

“Hold on!” Baxter barked.

“No time, I must warn the others,” Eli said, grabbing the door handle.

“No, hold on!” Baxter snapped.

Eli turned and asked, “What?”

“I want to meet everyone, the leadership. We need a strategy, and if I’m back involved with this, I want a say in how this goes down.”

“Not going to happen.”

“It does or I don’t do a damn thing you ask,” Baxter warned.

“You’ll do what we say or we’ll expose you,” Eli threatened.

“I was with you before, but I changed my mind and recommitted myself to fulfilling the reunification of the country. I don’t want any part of your plans unless I have a say. Otherwise I’ll have you arrested now, and I’ll expose myself.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Try me,” Baxter snapped, his eyes fixed on Eli in a death stare.

Eli returned the glare, opened the door and left.

West of Joseph, Oregon, Republic of Cascadia

Lexi stared out the large picture window that overlooked the front driveway of a house she had spied when she had first arrived in the area. Knowing her campsite had to be abandoned following the altercation and needing a place to house the man, she went against her gut and brought him there. By the looks of the interior, no one had called the place home for a long time.

After dumping him in a bed and dressing his wounds, she raced back to break camp and bring everything back. She half expected to return to find him awake but he wasn’t. She imagined he had lost some blood and was weak. Who wouldn’t be? He had suffered several small cuts to his arms but there was a large gash on his left side, just below his third rib. It wasn’t a fatal wound unless he was to get an infection.

Taking care of the wounded was something she shied away from. Her new mission was to neutralize what evil she came upon, including injecting herself in any altercation or situation; but after the threat was disposed of, she’d leave. One reason was she never really knew who was truly friend or foe, but normally it was easy to spot.

Nervous about her predicament, she chewed the skin on her fingertips, a habit she had been working for years to quit.

Rustling from the back bedroom pulled her away from the window. She quietly crept down the hall and stopped just outside the door that was cracked opened slightly.

She peeked in; the orange glow of the afternoon sun slipped through the sides of the curtains and lit the room enough for her to see him toss and turn.

She felt pressure on her calf and looked to see Beau standing there. He too was curious about the man.

Lexi watched until it felt like she was being a voyeur. She pulled herself away and went back to her spot looking out the window.

What am I doing?
she thought.

She couldn’t risk many bad moves, because bad moves in this world got you killed. But there was something about this man, something she couldn’t quite peg, but she felt he was a good person. She squashed that idea as quickly as it had popped into her mind.

“As soon as he’s good, I’m gone,” she said out loud.

She often fought this internal struggle, but any time her generous side would start to win, she’d remind herself of Carey. It was tough, but it kept her mind sharp, and what helped her deal with the loss was vigorous training, including calisthenics, meditation, plyometrics and good old knife play. Before she had used alcohol to drown her sorrows but it really only made things worse and actually put her life in jeopardy. Regardless of how good a fighter someone thought they were, their skills were deficient when plied with too much alcohol. In fact many bad judgments and their disastrous outcomes were the result of too much booze.

After killing Rahab, she'd chosen the life of an apocalyptic vigilante and the only way she was to know success was to be at the top of her game. The months that followed Rahab’s demise took her across the northwest, killing the evil and freeing the innocent. Occasionally she’d leave her calling card,
Nemesis
, so that she could strike fear in those hell-bent on pursuing lives of abuse and mayhem.

Outside of her training and being sober, she had created a set of rules she lived by with the discipline of a Tibetan monk, until now.

“Stephanie!” the man cried out from the bed.

Lexi tore herself away from the window. Like before she stood at the door and peeked in but this time the man was awake. The nightmare he was having was too much for sleep to overcome.

He sat up in bed, sweat streaming down his stubbled cheeks, and his bandages showed signs of fresh bleeding. He looked around, surprised to find himself in a house. He touched his side before swinging out of bed. When he stood, he noticed he was only wearing his briefs. He frantically looked around the dimly lit room for his pants.

Lexi watched him carefully. She thought about saying something but held back. She wanted to watch more, get a feel for him by examining his actions.

The man found his clothes in a pile in the corner, put them on and opened the door.

“You feeling better?” Lexi asked standing in his way.

His eyes widened with the shock of seeing her. She was mere inches from him. “Um,” he mumbled then paused when he looked down to see she was holding a pistol and had it pointed at his stomach. He took two steps back and asked, “Did you patch me up?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Lexi thought then replied, “That’s a good question. I normally don’t do that sort of stuff.”