Bad Moon on the Rise (Soldiers of New Eden Book 3) Page 5

  Hell, he might even like them enough that the eyes will get the chance to report what they see.

  ** ** **

  Marcus looked around, his fellow New Lords drinking in his every word as he recounted his run in with the sheriff. He's shaken his tail days earlier. No James Bond stuff, though he'd probably leave that out of the stories he'd tell later. Just leaving town took care did the job well enough. Now he had to deal with his own crowd. "That's about it. It was Calvin though, and they're looking for you."

  Declan nodded. "Interesting. What about this 'Investigator Hernandez'?"

  Marcus shrugged. "I don't know anything about her, except that she's the head Ranger down in New Eden."

  "I think I know who she is," Ramirez volunteered.

  "Oh?" Declan ask, his eyes raised and a mischievous look on his face at the thought of new information.

  "When Calvin and his people came to Somerton, it was in part because of the New Edeners we'd taken. The other part was we'd taken a family that escaped from their sentence of indenture. The woman was named Megan Hernandez. She got placed under the Conklin's…special attention."

  Declan smiled. The feral nature of it sent a shiver down Ramirez's spine. "Did she now?"

  "Yes sir. Drove him nuts because she wouldn't break," he said, putting on as brave a front as possible.

  "So, she's a tough one," the New Lord's leader said.

  Ramirez nodded. "Very much so. Hell, if she and Calvin are working together, they're not going to stop unless they're forced to."

  Declan nodded, then turned his attention back to Marcus. "You've been on their turf long enough now. What'll force them?"

  Marcus pondered for a moment, then said, "They've set up a system a lot like cops before the nukes. Made jurisdictions for themselves and all that. If we're out of their territory…"

  "Easy enough. I've seen what I need to see. For now, at least. We'll deal with him later. Right now, we're not in the right position," Declan said.

  "What about the Somerton refugees?" Ramirez asked. "They'll help. Gladly. Plus, they're a well trained force. No offense to your boys here, but you don't have our background."

  Declan glared at the former number two man for the Somerton Army. "We're not ready. I'll deal with Calvin in due time, but not right now."

  "BULLSHIT!" screamed a voice out of the crowd.

  "Someone have a problem with my leadership?" Declan fired back.

  Movement to the left of the assembled crowd soon parted, admitting Walker. "I've got a problem. You're not the only one with a score to settle. Why the fuck do we need to wait. Let's just take this shithead down. He's just one fucking guy," Walker belted.

  Marcus looked at the man and slowly shook his head. Leadership of the New Lords was won, not earned. Walker didn't have a prayer of beating Declan, and everyone knew it. Especially Walker.

  "I've given an order. I expect it to be followed," Declan said. "That is, unless you want to challenge."

  Silence.

  "Then you will do what I say," Declan barked.

  "Except you gave everyone an out," George said, a malicious smile crossing his lips.

  "Oh? Do tell the class."

  "The strong rule. However, the ruled have the right to seek new lords at any point. No vassal is tied to any lord."

  Declan nodded, recognizing his own words being spit back in his face. "Your point?"

  "My point is, you don't own me, or mine."

  Declan nodded again.

  "So if you don't go after this motherfucker, me and mine are leaving. I've taken your shit all this time…hell, I've been scared of you all this time, and you're nothing but a punk ass mother fucker who doesn't have the balls to go after some small town sheriff."

  Leaning back in his seat, Declan looked at Walker for a long moment than laughed. "You really are a stupid son of a bitch, aren't you? I'll tell you what. You want to go? Go. You're right, the laws are clear and I don't have the authority to stop you or any of your vassals that want to go with you."

  Declan stood up and stepped down from his chair, closing the distance between he and Walker in a handful of steps. Declan stood a full head taller than the other man, so he leaned down to peer eye to eye with Walker, his nose only millimeters from the other man's. "You all go. Anyone not here twenty-four hours from now is out. You're also out from under my protection—protection that your brother wasn't under since he joined the Somerton Army, I might add—and will be fair game. Not only that, but if you or your people are seen by any New Lord, they will be obligated to kill you on sight."

  "You can't do that," Walker said. His bravado appeared to be slipping away.

  Declan smiled and straightened up to his full height. "Oh, but I can. You see, I do have the authority to deny vassalage to anyone, and if you and your people leave? You're on the outside, and you know as well as anyone that I can order the death of anyone on the outside. Don't you?"

  Walker nodded grudgingly.

  "Good," Declan continued. "Now think long and hard about what you want. If I don't see you tomorrow, I'll have my answer."

  CHAPTER 5

  The Ranger garrison resembled what Jason once called "open bay barracks", something Rick's grandfather supposedly talked about a fair amount. Headboards of beds sat evenly spaced down each side of the room. Technically, Rick had a bed here, though he only used it when he was on a nightly call.

  However, during the day, it also served as a team room for the Rangers. Rick sat on his bunk, a worn paperback novel in his hands. The cover was lost long ago, yet somehow the title page suck around, as did the back cover. Darkship Thieves, it declared. When someone found it months before, Rick watched his father trade whatever he could to own it and bored half the town with his discussion of the author.

  Rick managed to talk his father into borrowing the book and endured many threats and promises of dismemberment if anything else happened to the book. He'd made all the necessary assurances and now read. Books like this, Jason explained, were what stirred many engineers to develop the old world, a world Rick barely remembered.

  He looked up from the book and scanned the room. A dozen other Rangers sat. A couple cleaned weapons or other equipment, while a handful more played cards. A footlocker served as an ersatz card table.

  "Hah!" one of the men, a guy named McLaren declared. "Full house," he said as he dropped his cards on the footlocker.

  "Son of a bitch," another grumbled.

  Rick turned his attention back to the novel. Some elite outfit, he mused to himself.

  "How do you keep winning?" another Ranger asked, a new guy. Rick didn't know the guy, but he didn't like this guy's tone.

  McLaren shrugged with a grin. "A combination of skill and luck," he quipped, oblivious.

  "I don't believe you," the new guy growled.

  McLaren stood. He was a big guy, almost as tall as Rick and only a little lighter in build. "What did you say?"

  The new guy stood as well, his every move screaming his desire to throw down, despite making a decent toothpick to the other man. "You heard me, bitch."

  McLaren's punch landed before the smaller man had a clue what kind of danger he was in, sending him flying back.

  The little mad crawled back up quickly, then launched himself at McLaren.

  Rick dropped the novel and sprinted to the ensuing melee, grabbing both men by their shirts and pulling them apart. The smaller man continued trying to kick and punch, despite it being clear he wasn't about to make contact.

  McLaren glared at Rick briefly before realizing who had him. "Sorry," the big man mumbled.

  The new guy continued trying to fight.

  Rick let go of McLaren and grabbed the other man with both hands, hoisting him up to the sky. "Is there a problem?" he asked, his voice as cool as a mountain spring in winter.

  "Yeah, motherfucker cheats," the new guy blurted out.

  Rick threw him on one of the beds. "You're an idiot, aren't you?"

  "WHAT DID YOU CA
LL ME?" the man screamed.

  He smiled in response. "I said you were an idiot. McLaren's smart. He folds when he doesn't have the cards and plays when he does. That's all. He plays smart, and so he wins an awful lot. But no, you can't accept that he's better than you are, so he must be cheating, huh?"

  "Who the fuck do you think you are? You're not the investigator, that's for damn sure, so you can blow me," the small guy said in defiance as he glared at Rick.

  Rick smiled again, then leaned forward. "Ask around. If I decide you're a personal problem, I will end you. Bluster won't save you. Got it?" With that, he stood up, walked to his bunk and picked up the novel, and walked out.

  ** ** **

  The rich wood tones of the tavern felt almost alien to Megan as she walked in. She hadn't seen anything like this in ages, making the door a portal through time. Sweet smells drifted from the kitchen, initiating a grumble from her stomach as she walked to the bar.

  The woman behind the bar smiled. "You must be the new investigator," she said.

  Megan nodded. "Sure am. Megan Hernandez."

  "Tabitha Hardesty. Everyone calls my Tabby."

  "As in 'Tabby's'?"

  Tabby smiled. "Guilty as charged. What can I get you?"

  "I heard you've got a pretty good burger?"

  "Best in the TVA," the other woman said. "You want bacon and cheese on it?"

  Megan smiled. "You read my mind."

  Tabby scribbled notes on a pad, ripped the page off and pushed it through a small window. "Anything to drink?"

  "What have you got?"

  Tabby considered for a moment, then said, "You a beer person, or liquor?"

  "Scotch."

  She smiled. "A woman after my own heart." Tabby reached for a bottle and poured a glass, setting in front of Megan.

  Megan took a sip, carefully considering it. "Oh, that's good. What is that?"

  The other woman grabbed the bottle and turned it so the label faced her. Springbank 10 year.

  Megan let out a low whistle. "Nice. More than I can afford."

  "It's on me."

  She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" She was always suspicious of people who tried to ingratiate themselves to her without a really good reason.

  Tabby raised her hands in supplication. "I watch out for cops. I was a Marine MP, back in the day."

  "Really?"

  She nodded. "Yep. Did my four years, then got out to start my next career."

  "And that was?"

  "MMA."

  Megan nodded. She didn't follow the sport, but knew enough about it from watching sports reports to know it was hard to make it. "Do well?"

  "UFC Women's Bantamweight World Champ."

  "No shit?" Megan said, then raised her hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry, I just…well, it's kind of surprising, you know?"

  She nodded. "Yeah, I understand. Even before the war, there weren't that many people walking around who could honestly call themselves world champs at much of anything. I get that a good bit actually."

  "I bet."

  "Also, there's another reason I'm hooking you up."

  Here we go, Megan thought. "Oh?"

  Tabby nodded. "I heard about what happened with you; what that Conklin guy did to you. I also heard he didn't break you. Any chick that tough deserves dinner and a few drinks on me," she said with a smile.

  "I'll take it," Megan said with a smile of relief.

  "Just so you know," the other woman started, "if you need to talk to anyone, I kind of know what you went through. Anything I can do to help…"

  Megan smiled again and shrugged. "All I need to is to learn how to sleep through the night again without seeing that asshole's face as he did whatever he wanted."

  "Did he…?" Tabby asked.

  She shook her head. "No. Not sure why he didn't, but no. He just…well, he did enough to screw me up enough that I can't tell the difference."

  Tabby nodded. "Yeah, I bet. Seems like it's the violence of the act that does the damage, the powerlessness you feel in it. That's what messes you up. Sounds like you got a taste of that yourself."

  Megan nodded. "And I'm dealing with it. It's just the sleep thing. And sounds making me jumpy. And terrified of the dark. And…aw, hell, who am I kidding?"

  The other woman smiled. "It's not that unusual. In this day and age? There are too damn many of us that understand what you're going through."

  She shook her head. "I don't even know why I'm saying any of this. Sorry, but I don't even know you." She gave a pained smile, trying to lessen the sting of her words.

  Tabby smiled. "Well, for one, I think you really wanted to tell someone. For another, I'm a woman, and not likely to judge you based on macho bullshit. And another, well…" She shrugged and tore off a piece of paper from the order pad and slipped it through the window leading to the kitchen.

  Megan raised an eyebrow in question.

  "Well, I bribed you with good scotch," she said, beaming.

  She smiled in response. "That must be it."

  Tabby's smile faded. "Seriously, trying to deal with this yourself isn't always the best idea. I'm here if you ever need to talk."

  "I thought the bartender-slash-psychologist thing was a vicious stereotype," she quipped.

  "You realize that stereotypes come from somewhere, right?"

  The door to the tavern opened, allowing in a rather large and clearly aggravated Ranger.

  Rick made his way to Megan. "We've got a problem, boss."

  Tabby retreated and Megan raised her eyebrow and said, "Oh?"

  Rick outlined what had just happened, then finished by saying, "It's not the first of these fights either."

  She nodded. "Yeah. So I've heard."

  ** ** **

  Ramirez made his way out of the main building and toward the RV he called home these days. No power, no nothing except for the candles he use for lighting, but it was a roof over his head, which is more than most of the Somerton refugees had these days.

  "So tell me, soldier boy…you gonna be Declan's bitch? Or do you want a little payback?" Walker said as he moseyed around the corner of the RV.

  Ramirez glared at the other man. He couldn't stand Walker, and Walker-boy knew that. Why come to him? "What do you want?"

  "Oh, I want to know where your buddies are hiding."

  Ramirez grunted in amusement. "You really think they'd follow you?"

  Walker smiled. "Not me. You."

  He shook his head. "I get paid here. I'm not interested in starving to death out there."

  "So your loyalty can be bought?" Walker asked, disgust tingeing his voice.

  "Everyone's can. The thing is, once mine is bought, it stays bought."

  Walker stepped toward him. "Tell me where I can find your friends. If you're not willing to come along, at least let them make the choice for themselves. What do you say?"

  He considered it for a few moments. On one hand, he knew Walker wasn't the most charismatic guy out there, so they'd be desperate if they decided to follow him. On the other, Walker wasn't as stupid as he looked. Uneducated, maybe, but not stupid. He was ruthless and violent too, but he understood the New Lord philosophy and really bought into it. He'd direct it toward the appropriate parties. Like it or not, Ramirez really did want to see Jason Calvin strung up. Declan didn't seem inclined to do it right now, but maybe Walker would.

  "I'll draw you a map. Come on in while I get you set up," Ramirez finally said as he stepped toward the door.

  Walker smiled as he followed the other man inside.

  ** ** **

  Jason was out of breath as he leaned against the wooden wall that was the outside of someone's home. The man he was chasing had just snagged an apple, nothing major, but it was still a theft. Still, the guy was fast and Jason hadn't chased anyone in a while. I'm slipping back into the old ways, he thought to himself as he patted the small but noticeable gut.

  Over a decade ago, Jason had been morbidly obese when he saw the first mushroom cloud. Little food and
a long haul cross the state had worked that out nicely. More meager food and the constant struggle of survival kept it off.

  However, the last couple of years had seen New Eden with plenty for a change. That, coupled with a ridiculously low crime rate had led him to let things slide. His labored breathing drove home the fact that he'd let them slide way too much.

  The more he thought about it, however, the more he came to realize that the weight itself wasn't the problem. He'd known guys who were bigger than he'd been back in the day who could run for miles and miles. What bothered him was that he'd lost that edge, that hardness.

  Jason made his way back to the market. He paid for the apple himself and told the vendor that he saw the kid was dirt poor, so he figured he'd throw a little charity out.

  So he lied. It wouldn't do for people to think that the sheriff couldn't catch bad guys anymore.

  After that, he made his way back to the office. Billy sat at his desk. At another, a thin man with wire rim glasses sat at another desk, his hands furiously scribbling on a pad of paper. Jason's eyes lingered for a moment on a third desk, now empty.

  "Gentlemen," he said, forcing joviality into his voice. "I have officially become a fat ass."

  Billy laughed. "You're just now noticing that?"

  Jason raised his middle finger in a gesture of friendship and moved around to his chair and sat. "Where's a Planet Fitness when you need one?"

  "You're wanting the free pizza, right?" Billy fired back.

  "Hey, Sully?" Jason said.

  The thin man perked up. "Sir?"

  "You want Billy's job? He's cruising for a firing."

  The color drained from Sully's face.

  "Relax," Billy said. "He's not firing anyone."

  Jason laughed. "No, I'm not. Geez, Sully, you really are skittish about this, aren't you?"

  Sully nodded. "It's just…well, with what happened to Hector…"

  "I get it," Jason said. "The thing is, you won't get to pick the moment when the shit will hit the fan."

  Sully nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, I know."