John, on the other hand, became lost in his own thoughts, about where they were and what they’d have to do next. They currently were in the middle of Ryerson Station State Park, in southwestern Pennsylvania. They were a long way from the farmhouse, but an even farther distance from Kentucky.
Should they really continue to Kentucky? After all, it was a big state. Without phones, there wasn’t much chance of contacting Max. It wasn’t like they could send him a telegram. Their only hope was the radio, but as far as John knew, Max didn’t have a radio of his own. And even if he found one somewhere along the way, the chances of connecting with him were slim to none. Unless there were other communication networks of radio operators springing up across the country, John didn’t see how it could possibly work out. To make it all worse, Max had no idea John was looking for him.
But where else could they go? The cities were certainly in ruins. Maybe there was a town somewhere that hadn’t fallen to chaos, but would they be interested in accepting newcomers? Probably not. New people meant new problems.
Dale had told them more than once that they should build a little shack near his cabin. But John and Cynthia weren’t having any of that. They knew that it was too close to the area the militia was spreading to. And too close to the cities. Dale’d told them not to worry, but they knew better. Dale was his own man, though, and he could do what he thought best. That was the way John saw it, at least.
“You doing OK, John?” said Cynthia.
“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine,” said John, waking up out of his reverie.
It was dark now, and it was almost time to hit the sleeping bags. They got them out of their packs, as they’d done so many times before. The bags were covered in dried mud with a healthy coating of good old dirt. John’s had been torn when it’d snagged on a branch, and Cynthia’s had become threadbare in portions after many nights of not realizing she’d chosen to sleep on small rocks.
“Who’s going to keep first watch?” said John. He said it out of habit, forgetting the pattern they’d established the last week with Dale.
“Come on, John,” said Dale, laughing. “Kiki will keep better watch than any of us. I’ve got her trained.”
“I hope so,” said John, glancing over at Kiki, who turned an eye towards him. She was a good dog, but he wasn’t crazy about putting his life in the hands of a dog. But each night that they’d had this discussion, John had been too tired to protest. It was easier to give in, not to mention get a full night’s sleep.
The pit fire gave off very little light, but with his darkness-adjusted eyes, John was able to see Kiki curling up next to Dale in his sleeping bag.
Cynthia, in her own bag, squirmed over until she lay next to John. “It’s cold,” she said sleepily.
And it was cold. John tightened the drawstrings of his own bag. His body was exhausted, and he knew he’d be asleep in less than a minute. Sleeping on the cold ground instead of a bed no longer meant anything to him. He couldn’t even remember what a bed felt like.
His thoughts turned to the man they’d met earlier that day, and the compound. He’d seemed like an honest man…
4
After the disaster of the escaping visitors, Kara had taken extraordinary measures to eradicate any traces of democracy from the compound. She now ruled with an iron fist, and she wasn’t going to let that change.
She enjoyed the way the others cowered when they saw her, the way they averted her eyes.
Max had killed Jeff. He’d been too useful to Kara, and it’d been hard to find a replacement. Right now, she was relying heavily on a tall muscular man who went by the name of Smitty. He was power hungry, just like Kara. He wasn’t as subtle or intelligent as Jeff, but he was willing to do almost anything to advance his position in the compound. That was just how some people were.
Kara’s trick was to use Smitty to her own advantage while not letting him get too far ahead. She knew that his loyalty would only go so far. The minute he smelled an opportunity to undermine her, he’d take it and try to seize total control for himself. Her plan was to use Smitty until he was just at the brink of being out of her control. Then she’d make him destroy himself with his own momentum.
“Anything to report?” said Kara in a low voice.
She was sitting on her bunk bed in the building that was her own. She was still the only woman in the community.
Smitty sat on an empty bucket opposite her. “Everything’s going well,” he said. “Everyone’s fallen in line well. Not many murmurs of dissent.”
“We can’t afford any. When you say ‘not many’ what do you mean?”
“I’ve heard a few grumbles. Some are resentful of your takeover.”
“’A few’ is far too many,” said Kara. “They need to be too scared to even grumble. Give me names.”
“Well, there’s Mark Koppel. I heard him whispering something to one of his friends, something about democracy.”
“He’s a trouble maker,” said Kara. “Bring him in.”
“What? Now?”
“Right now,” said Kara.
“He was on shit duty. I’ll go see if he’s back yet.”
“Fast,” said Kara.
She sat there as Smitty left, tapping her foot impatiently. She had dreams of power, dreams of growing the compound to something that everyone would know, something that would continue past her own lifespan. She’d go down in history as one of the new founders of law and order. Sure, there’d be some skeletons in her closet. People would have to die, but that was the way things worked. Only the truly powerful understood the costs in human lives required to establish true order.
People like Koppel should have been on their hands and knees thanking Kara that they had a place to live, that they were safe from the chaos of the cities and surrounding areas. But instead they were grumbling, complaining, and trying to undermine her new rule.
Smitty came back a couple minutes later, dragging Koppel by the collar. Smitty was much bigger and stronger than Koppel, and he threw him roughly to the concrete.
Koppel hit the floor hard, and looked up at Kara with a pleading look. “I didn’t do anything,” he said. His voice reeked of weakness. Kara couldn’t stand him. Maybe it was time to eliminate him. But he might know something. If there was a plot underfoot, Kara needed to know about it.
“I’ve heard,” said Kara, “that you aren’t happy with the changes here.”
“I didn’t say anything,” said Koppel. He stayed on the floor. He knew better than to get up.
Kara gave a nod to Smitty, who took his .357 Magnum out and pointed it at Koppel’s head. Koppel stared at the gun, terrified. His whole body started to shake.
“Now you know how things go around here,” said Kara in a sickly sweet voice. “You know that it’s better to just tell the truth. It’s better not to keep things inside. It can be damaging psychologically. We’re a group, and we all have to look out for one another.”
“I don’t know anything,” said Koppel. “I was just saying that I was still hungry. That was it. I swear.”
Smitty moved rapidly. He gave a hard kick to Koppel’s torso. Koppel cried out.
“Enough of the bullshit,” shouted Smitty. “I heard you. I know what you said.”
“There’s only one way out of this that I can see,” said Kara. “You’ve already outlived your usefulness and now you’ve become a real threat to our community. We can’t have rebel elements like you. We have to put out the sparks before they start a big blaze. The only way we’ll let you live is if you give some real information.”
“I don’t know anything. Really.”
“It’s easy. Name names. Give me what I want. Tell me who’s plotting against me.”