Carrington ran in the opposite direction, down the middle of Grand, turning right at 1st Street, into the entrance of a two-story, turn-of-the-century brick building known as the Johnsons’ hotel, before housing the watering hole, Lovejoy’s bar and restaurant. Now, it was home to his “other” project. He raced through the building to the stairwell leading to the roof, knowing time was not on his side to get Zeus working.
30.
Making the Wright Choice
“What the hell am I doing here?” Darla whispered to herself.
“Shh,” growled Joselin, only a couple of feet in front of her.
Darla and Joselin were kneeling beside a bubbling stream, just in front of a fence that separated them from a hill that rose on the other side, up to the house that they were supposed to storm the moment they heard the signal.
She was no damned Army Ranger, and she felt ridiculous wearing her olive drab T-shirt and GA armband. She had no intention of shooting anyone, except someone who would harm Danny or her. These people were no threat and certainly had every right to defend themselves against these monsters she had been hanging with for the past month. She had been playing the game, pretending that it was okay and going along with what they were doing, all because they held Danny’s safety over her head. But, it was more than that. She had come to terms with a darkness that permeated her thinking, an evil that offered her safety and comfort if only she would look away from the unspeakable acts they were committing. Every day, she heard of or witnessed the violence they unleashed on innocents: people just like her parents or grandparents or friends, who were just trying to survive. She may have not pulled the trigger, but her ambivalence condoned and enabled, just as so many Germans allowed Hitler to commit atrocities against the Jews.
Yesterday, when she had come to that realization, repulsed by what she had become, she resolved to take action. They were leaving today, regardless of what happened. This morning, she packed her backpack with only a few essentials and her spear gun, so it wasn’t too obvious when she snuck it to the battlefield. And even though her plan was in motion, she couldn’t help but once again feel self-hatred for having taken part for this long.
She let go of her rifle, which dangled loosely from the sling. What if this were Mexico instead and the GA were waiting to storm the homes of her family and friends, all while folks like her did nothing about it? No, she wouldn’t do this any longer. It was time to make her stand.
“Do you realize what we are about to do?” she asked Joselin, just above a whisper. “We are going to shoot this family, and for what crime? They’ve done nothing wrong. It’s their food, not ours. Just because we’ve done nothing to prepare for this Armageddon, does that make it right to kill them for their food? What if this was your family, Joselin? Would you still march in and shoot your family so you could take their food? Would you kill your own family, just to save your own miserable life?”
Joselin said nothing, only turning her face toward her accuser. Darla had carefully chosen these words, knowing their barbs would dig in. Joselin’s shoulders lolled and tears welled up in her eyes, held from release.
Darla pushed up from where she knelt. “I’m done. I’m leaving and taking Danny.” She paused to make sure Joselin understood, “You’re welcome to come with us, but you have to decide right now. I cannot be here another moment.”
“B-but… what about Teacher?” Joselin’s protest was weak.
“What about him? He’s the reason we are here, about to kill innocent people.”
“B-but Teacher says no one is innocent in the eyes of God,” Joselin recited one of his many teachings just as she’d been taught to do when someone questioned the group’s actions.
“Fine, that’s between all of us and God, not the Teacher.” She took a breath. “He is just a man; no, not just a man, he’s a disgusting pig who drugged and tried to rape me, and he kidnapped my brother, and he makes me serve in this ridiculous fucking army.” Darla stopped herself, swallowing her repressed anger threatening to flare into rage. “Yes, Teacher is a charismatic man, and I can see the attraction, but he is just a man who is making you be something you are not. You are better than this, Joselin. I’m begging you, please come with us.”
Relief took the place of Darla’s anger. She had kept this bottled up for a month, knowing she was following the wrong path. And now that she had articulated it, she felt so much better for finally having done so.
A long, uncomfortable time passed, but Darla just waited, stalwart for her friend. Finally, she got tired of Joselin’s inaction, slung her rifle around her back, and then turned to leave, with or without her. Then she heard the answer.
“Okay.”
Darla spun around and grabbed her in a bear hug.
“Where are we going?”
“I don’t know, but we’ll get there together.” Darla set off quietly back the way they had come, still holding Joselin’s arm.
They walked side by side, purposefully, carefully.
Darla’s mind wandered through a loose collection of memories and emotions about her brother, her family, and finally about Steve.
Steve Parkington was positioned behind a big oak tree that must have been at least a hundred years old. Its broad, knobby trunk and a couple of low branches gave him an excellent rest for his rifle and perfect cover. Its elevation up the hill also provided a great view of a large portion of the hill’s base and the valley below. All where Wilber said he was expecting, “activity from the enemy.”
His father, John, lay prone on top of a shed bordering a pig pen between him and the ridge, watching the area from the base of the ridge all the way to where Steve sat. Wilber, his wife, and five townies who had joined them over the past month watched the rest of the hilly compound from behind an old rock wall circling the top of the hill. Wilber’s son was perched near the top of the windmill tower, armed with a signal mirror and a .22 rifle with suppressor and ample scope. Since the blades of the wind turbine faced away from them, picking up breezes from the other side of the ridge, Buck had a perfect view of the valley and was partially protected by a steel plate Wilber had recently installed in preparation for this precise scenario.
Wilber said this was enough, but Steve wasn’t so sure. He was no soldier; he was a geek. Give him a computer and he could figure out anything, but out here, he was like a babe in the woods—a nerdy little babe in the woods. He had never shot anyone, much less killed someone. He just hoped that he would remain steady and not be too terrified. He had read lots of fiction and was always amazed how the hero of the story could do anything and everything at the right moment, with few consequences. But that was fiction. This was real life, and it was about to get as real as it could get.
So real, that he could swear he heard voices from down the hill. Blinking himself from his thoughts, he squinted through the scope of his AR-some-number, he forgot the name Wilber gave it. There! It was a woman and a man—no, two women, just beyond the fence line, at the bottom of the hill. They wore the same shirts and some band around their arms. He could hear them talking to each other. The woman with a ponytail was arguing with the other and abruptly stood up. Then they were quiet and unmoving, and then they hugged and walked away.