“What are you saying?”
Their eyes locked. Dim light trickled in from outside. Even after all these years she was still stunning.
“I’m saying, who’s going to lead them if something happens to you? You’re always lecturing others about mitigating risk and then you run straight into the line of fire.”
“I’m a complicated creature,” he said, removing his tactical vest. “What can I say?”
Diane smiled, tiny crows’ feet forming at the corners of her eyes. “So how did it go?”
John undid his gunbelt next along with the leg strap and hung it in a cabinet he was using as a makeshift weapons locker. “Surprisingly well. Seems our signal’s getting out. By the time we got there, the folks in Huntsville had already taken care of the Russian agent and his men.”
“By taken care of you mean they were shot?”
“No, the townspeople hanged them. Hey, did you know Huntsville had a hanging tree right next to the mayor’s office?”
Diane swallowed hard and shook her head.
“Moss said it’s been around for decades.”
“You’re not thinking of setting one up in Oneida, are you?”
“Maybe. It would look good, don’t you think?” John said, teasing. “Worst case, we could set up a scaffold right outside the kids’ bedroom.”
Diane giggled. “You sick man. Sometimes I wonder about you.”
His mood darkened. “I’m kidding, although I hope it never comes to that.”
“One thing at a time, John. You’ve been in charge less than three days and you’re already talking about hanging people.”
“I’m just saying now that people are free here, we’re still gonna need to make sure folks obey the laws.”
“There are plenty of prison cells,” Diane told him. “Trust me, the kids and I should know.”
A flash of guilt spread across John’s face.
“It wasn’t your fault, honey. You need to stop taking responsibility every time something bad happens.”
He nodded. She was right, as always.
“There is someone you should to talk to though.”
John undid the laces of his boots and slipped into a more comfortable pair of sneakers. “Oh, and who’s that?”
“Your daughter. Ever since the Chairman hauled Emma in for questioning…” Diane’s voice trailed off. “Well, she hasn’t been the same.”
“Can you blame her? She saw you strapped to a chair after you’d been beaten. She probably expected the two of you were about to be killed, or worse.”
“I don’t know what she thought. But since then she’s gone into that shell of hers.”
A couple of years ago, Emma had developed a fixation on her weight. It didn’t matter how often people told her she was beautiful, she’d become convinced she was fat. John suspected her complex had originated when a boy at school Emma had had a crush on had asked her when she was going to lose her baby fat. It was a stupid and insensitive comment, but the germ had been planted and no amount of telling her otherwise seemed to make a difference. Soon she’d begun withdrawing into herself, spending hours in her room starving herself while she sketched on a notepad and wrote short stories. There was talent there for sure and perhaps it was one of the few things that made her feel good about herself. John wasn’t a shrink and never pretended to be. All he knew was that whenever she felt depressed the sketchpad would come out.
“All right,” John said. “I’ll have a conversation with her. Where is she?”
Chapter 4
John had to knock three times on the door to Emma’s room before she invited him in. She was sitting in one of the beds they’d brought over from Tobe’s Motel and Restaurant on Alberta Street. She glanced out the window, sketching a tree whose leaves were turning yellow and red. Her arms looked thin like the twigs on her notepad. Dark circles ringed her eyes.
“Honey, when’s the last time you had something to eat?”
Emma glanced at the window and then back at her sketchpad. The edge of her pencil traced a branch. “I’m not hungry. Mom’s already been after me and I told her the same thing.”
John sat down on the edge of her bed, wondering where to start. “It’s gonna be fall soon, so you’ll need to add some more color to those leaves.”
“This is only a sketch. The color will come later.”
“I see.” John glanced around the room. The floor was littered with other drawings his daughter had done. One of them was a woman in a chair with her face full of cuts and bruises. “You know, I can’t undo what happened to you kids and to your mother.”
Emma didn’t look up. “I know, Dad. It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault. We live in a crappy world filled with bad people.”
“We do, honey. But not everyone’s bad. In fact, it might surprise you how many good people there are out there.” He drew in a deep whistling breath. “When’s the last time you saw Brandon?”
“He came and knocked earlier, but I was busy. I think he’s digging a trench now.”
“Not a trench. He’s helping dig foxholes. There’s a chance enemy soldiers might swing through here on their way to D.C. The Chinese, Russians and North Koreans wouldn’t have sent the Chairman ahead of time if Oneida wasn’t worth holding.”
“That’s why I’m drawing.”
John’s face squished up. “I don’t understand.”
“They’ve already taken most of the country. If the army gets beaten along the Mississippi there’ll be no stopping them. So there’s no point in worrying.”
“I never took you for a quitter, Emma.”
She must have sensed the disappointment in his voice because she stopped and tightened her grip on the pencil.
“I’m not quitting, Dad, I’m being realistic. Maybe no one has the guts to say it straight to your face, but if those soldiers and tanks start heading this way, we’re all gonna die.”
“I didn’t ask to be put in charge of this place. You know that as well as I do. We owe it to each other and to everyone else to hold out as long as we can. After the Chairman’s men came, part of me was sure the three of you were already dead or at least long gone. That little voice kept telling me I’d never see you again. I should give up wasting my time and keep myself and Brandon safe. Sometimes that little voice makes so much sense, but that’s when you need to question it the most. Listen, Emma, I’m gonna bring you something to eat and after that I want you to think about ways that you can contribute. There’s nothing wrong with being creative, but I’m the mayor now and I can’t very well order people to fetch and purify water and plant crops while my own daughter is sitting in bed drawing.”
Emma looked up at him with hurt and anger. “You think I’m wasting my time, don’t you?”
“I think you’re hiding.”
A tear ran down her cheek.
“We miss you,” John said, pulling her into a tight hug. Emma’s arms remained limp by her side.
His entire life John had been about getting things done. If an objective needed to be seized, he would get there or die trying. He’d fought insurgents in Iraq and organized the defense of Willow Creek Drive, but for some reason, getting through to his own daughter seemed the biggest challenge of all.
Just then, a brisk knock came at the door.
“Come in,” John said, expecting Diane, certain she must have been listening at the door.
When the door swung open, it wasn’t Diane at all. It was Henry and the tension on the young man’s face was unmistakable.
“Sir, I have Colonel Higgs on the radio. He needs to speak with you right away. Says it’s urgent.”