He crammed the small Raven pistol along with the other supplies into the pack, adjusted the newly found revolver comfortably on his right hip within its holster, and slid underneath the stalled garage door. Come on! He struggled to bring the overstuffed pack from the garage, pulling, straining to edge it from below the door. Finally!
Xavier blinked hard, trying to bring the yard into focus, his eyes working to adjust from the darkness he crawled out from. The bag dangled from his hand as he carried it to the end of the driveway’s retaining wall. He set it to the ground, his arm beginning to burn from the weight of it.
It was early, and the heat was already starting to build. Another sweat was certainly on its way. He looked for relief. A rain barrel showed slightly above the tall grass. The gutters had poured yesterday’s storm within it. The water looked fresh—smelled fresh. This will definitely do. His hands brought the water into his mouth. He drank until satisfied, but his stomach still had a deep ache—the memory of the tuna from yesterday had long left it. Xavier knew it best that he ate breakfast before he set out.
He looked for anything of substance. Wanting to eat, but not willing to resort to the canned food just yet, he meandered through the unmown lawn touched with the morning dew. It wetted his lower half. His boots collected the seeds of dandelions as he kicked about, scattering the blades of grass and weeds away from his path. Nothing—no garden, no fruit trees, only Simon’s smoker pushed up against the side of a shed.
The smoker was poorly built, barely held in place smooshed between stacks of firewood. The black potbelly stove with a large wooden box fitted upon its stack pipe was missing a leg, propped level with an old dictionary. He didn’t care as long as it served its purpose. No luck. The wooden box contained no more than a few hooks hanging from a bar—no meat, not even scraps.
That was it. All the yard had to offer. With no other choice, he unbuckled the top flap to the bag and unloaded two tins. One contained pears and the other, baked beans. Not exactly the best choice for breakfast, but Xavier welcomed them both, tipping the cans and drinking as he sat on the retaining wall. The syrup from the pears was thick and lukewarm, delicious, almost a dessert. Baked beans had once been his favorite at summer cookouts. Now, anything could be his favorite depending on how hungry he was.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and bowled the cans under the garage door. They clattered and rolled about for a moment. He then lifted his pack and carried it to the fence line, heaving it to the other side. Xavier followed, but took a few minutes to view the old neighborhood before lifting the bag onto his shoulders.
There it was—his chimney stack. The thought of entering his home hadn’t crossed his mind. It would be too much—his mother leaving, his sister’s death, the horrors of the gangs. He knew he didn’t want to relive those things, and besides, it was empty. It had been cleared out completely before they had left. Good-bye. He turned from it, knowing better than to hang on to the past.
It wasn’t long before Xavier’s boots were wet, standing in the creek while stuffing the trash bags full. The den in the side of the embankment was deep but filled quickly. He pushed the bags, oddly-shaped and stubborn as they were, further and further into the wall of the creek. At least now his findings would be waterproof as they sat waiting for him.
Xavier clumped the dirt together over the hole, concealing the bags, then scattered the remaining soil in the water. It was no secret what had been done here. An obvious patch job. If anyone were to come along, they would pocket all his hard work.
He touched it up with some branches, making them look like roots from a nearby tree, and with a few more rocks and leaves, it looked more natural—not so obvious. Xavier checked his pockets one last time. There was nothing compromising. It had all been buried. He only took the binoculars and pocketknife. He climbed the root ladder and took the overgrown path back to the school.
The thick line of trees across from River’s Edge gave him ample cover while he lay there observing the town. Business as usual it seemed. Two Sentries in the outposts by the gate. The goats were grazing in the field. It looked like Matt patching an outer portion of the wall, but he couldn’t tell. Xavier removed the binoculars from its pouch and glassed the school, running his eyes along its hard lines.
There weren’t any extras, just two Sentries in the outposts and one Guard with the shepherd. It was Matt on the outside. He looked for Jenny, but didn’t see her. They always work together. Then he remembered. Remembered that he was supposed to meet her last night. Damn. She probably got caught past curfew, and it was his fault. Why else wouldn’t she be there? He had failed her, unintentionally, but still it happened. She would understand, or so he hoped. If he had time to make it right, he would. He would explain it to her. She would have to forgive him once given the truth. Hopefully, she would decide to join.
Xavier put the binoculars away, and he simply observed the activity from afar. Doesn’t feel like home anymore. Knowing the Second Alliance was there with their dark secrets cast the town in a different light. The brick building. The large metal wall. The barbed wire. None of it represented security any longer. No, it was something much different. A prison. A place where freedom and morality no longer existed. A place no longer needing protection from the world. The threat lived inside the walls.
Quietly, he waited for the right moment to approach the gate. It could end poorly if he wasn’t recognized and a Sentry decided to fire a few rounds his way. He couldn’t risk it. Patience is all he could rely upon. It would be best if he had someone escort him to the gate. He needed to get to Matt, but there was too much working against him—the Sentries, the goats, the distance, but then, as if the world had read his thoughts, the Sentries stepped down from their towers.
Without hesitating, Xavier pushed back from the ground—away from the field—withdrawing into the trees. He moved. Branches. Bushes. Trees. His arms shielded him from the snapping twigs and brush as he ran as softly as he could toward the other side. Matt would only be twenty yards away from that point. Xavier could get his attention without alerting anyone else. He took sharp glances toward the towers when he could. Still no Sentries. Then, an iron screech stopped him dead in his tracks. The door was opening.
He hurried to the edge of the trees and hunkered down into a position where he could see. The heavy doors crept open, and the Sentries stood at the ends of each one—their rifles scanning. They motioned for something within the town, but nothing came. Xavier waited, his eyes focused solely on the opening in the city walls. Still nothing. What’s happening? Why would they leave it open for so long? Xavier took out his binoculars and watched over the area. Are they taking something in? There was nothing except for the goats, but they were still eating, paying no attention to the town.
Finally Rupert emerged, pulling his clunky, filth-covered cart, cluttered with the waste-filled buckets. He walked slowly toward the trenches, his nose and mouth wrapped with a bandana. He certainly didn’t seem to be in a rush to get there. Who could blame him?
Rupert looked back as the gate closed, maybe finally reconsidering his place in life. The Sentries returned to their post, and one called out to Rupert. He looked up. There appeared to be some sort of an exchange, but Xavier couldn’t make it out—Rupert simply waved the Sentry off and continued.
It appeared Rupert would go it alone—no Guard. Xavier hated it, but this may be his only chance. A favor from Rupert might be impossible. Xavier didn’t even want to speak with him. The conversation would be excruciating, but he didn’t have a choice. With the Sentries back in their posts, Matt would no longer be an option—he stood too closely to the towers. Now or never I guess.