I seriously missed my gun.  As the days of our imprisonment dragged on I began to realize more and more how slim the chances were that I would ever see my beloved M1 again.  It was probably still sitting behind the grandfather clock in our rooms in the capitol building a couple of clicks away.  So close yet so far, never to be held by me again.  I considered going back for it after Shields sprung us, but immediately realized how ridiculous it would be to risk life and limb for it.  But it was a gift from someone important to me, and it had been my only friend for the past two decades.  How could I just leave it behind?  And so that was first issue that had me infuriated.

The second was Nick.  Nick had done his fair share of pissing me off in the past on numerous issues (most often we butted heads over what was best for the Roadhouse), but usually I recognized that he only thought he was doing what was best for everyone, and often he or I would come around and discover that the other was right.  This time, however, he was being foolish.  Lacey incited a quick but brutal war between Nick’s wisdom and his libido, and his libido had scored a decisive victory.  So now I counted one less person that I could trust during our extended stay in enemy territory.

The third and final item on my list of grievances was Shields.  Our great and noble savior, David Shields.  Before he was kind to us, and then he took a huge risk springing us, risking his title and his life.  But to hole us up in his own home with his family, to risk their well-being?  Foolishness.  Or, even more worrisome, he had a plan, and it was working perfectly.  I needed to get into his head and figure out what he really wanted.  Nick was content to accept favors as simple acts of nobility and kindness, but I always tried to look for those ulterior motives.  People called it paranoia until it saved their lives, then they praised your foresight until they forgot and resumed calling it paranoia.

I am alone.  Utterly alone.

I was in the room assigned to Nick and I, silently searching the walls and furniture for anything out of the ordinary.  I didn’t trust Shields.  He was either horribly irresponsible or brilliantly devious, and either way it was quite possible that the room was tapped.  So far though, nothing.  The room wasn’t cluttered, but it was large and certainly not sparse, and this made my search long and slow.  I was on my hands and knees, peering into an air duct when I heard the door open and close.  I knew without looking that it was Nick.

“What are you–” he began, but I held my hand up to him without looking back, and he stopped short and waited.

I grabbed the duct’s slotted cover and worked the tips of my fingers behind it.  The house was nice, but, like all pre-Crossing houses, it was old, and the cover came off, albeit a little noisier than I had hoped, with a good hard yank.  Nick was across the room now, hovering above me, watching as I reached into the duct and pulled out a small blue baby monitor.  A small green LED light was ignited, telling us it was on and functional.  And listening.

I considered smashing it, but instead I handed it to Nick and went up to the roof for a smoke.  It wasn’t long before Nick came to join me.  Habitually, I offered him a cigarette that I knew he would refuse and then placed one in my lips and lit it up.

“So what now?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.  ”I really don’t.  We’re far away from home, and everyone between here and there will be looking for blood and we’re completely unarmed.”

“David said that he sent a letter–”

“David also had a baby monitor planted in our room,” I interrupted impatiently.

“Regardless, when we don’t come back, they’ll send someone looking for us, Kevin.”

I nodded, taking another hit.   ”I admire your optimism.”

Nick sighed.  ”Shields isn’t our enemy.”

“Maybe not, but he’s not to be trusted,” I replied, and then, in a whisper: “The Hub still wants our oil.  They put us next to each other in that prison hoping we’d talk.  Now Shields suddenly risks his job, his life, and his family for us, only to spy on us?  What if it’s all for the oil?”

“That’s a pretty elaborate ruse,” Nick responded doubtfully.

“It’s oil, Nick!  Oil!  We don’t know what they’re liable to do.”

“Alright,” he resigned begrudgingly, “we’ll be careful around him, all of them, but he’s still our best chance of making it out of this in one piece, so why don’t you try to be at least a little less paranoid?  At least in appearance.”

“Fine,” I laughed.

We heard footsteps padding up the stairs then, and we both turned to see Joy emerge from inside.  ”Gentleman,” she greeted us.  ”My husband is home.”

We followed her quickly down the steps to find David Shields in the kitchen, panicked and packing supplies into three backpacks.  Great.  Three.

“David,” Nick began, “what’s wrong?”

“They’re going block by block.  I can’t stop them.  You two have to leave now or I’m dead.  All of us will be, actually.”

David tossed me and Nick each a bag.  ”You’ll probably get back home on that food if you ration it.  Where’s the woman?”

“I’ll get her,” a pale Joy offered, and she hurried away.

“Nick, take this,” Shields said, handing him a folder.  ”It’s got information in it that you’ll need to read when you get to safety.  If they catch you, burn it, because they can trace that back to me.”  Nick nodded.  ”Kevin,” he said turning his attention to me, “I left two pistols and a few boxes of ammo out in the living room.  It’s all I could get without raising too much suspicion.  Also, I found your rifle, and it looks like it’d be hard to replace.”  I followed him into the living room, where I saw three pistols and a bag laying on the couch, and just inside the door, leaning against the wall was my M1.  I grabbed and checked it over, cradling it in my hands lovingly.

Nick, Joy, and Lacey soon joined us in the living room; Joy near tears, Nick looking at me with his “I told you so” face, and Lacey looking rather confused.  ”So I’m going with them?” she asked.

“You don’t have to,” David replied, “but you’re not staying here.”

She nodded, and David now addressed us as a group.

“I want to apologize for your treatment, ambassadors.  The Hub wasn’t always such an oppressive regime.  I’d like you to know that there are those of us, even in the government, who are working tirelessly to make this great place into a democracy once more.  Tell that to your people so that perhaps we can avoid a senseless war.”

He shook hands with Nick and I and wished us Godspeed, and resting a hand on Lacey’s shoulder, he told her he was “sorry you got mixed up in all this madness.”

“Head south until you reach the river, then follow it west,” Shields instructed us.  ”You’ll find a small ferry operation there.  Tell them I sent you, and they’ll take you out west into Harrier lands, outside Hub influence.  Then it’s up to you to get home.  Best of luck, my friends.”

And with that, we left.

+

Under cover of darkness, the three of us darted through alleyways and across quiet streets.  Nick and I had been in similar situations (though much less dire), and so were well prepared for the slow progress through the city.  My concern had been that Lacey would slow us or get us caught, but she too seemed to have a good idea of what to do.  I was impressed by her patience and dexterity.

About an hour later, we reached the river that ran along the southern edge of New Richmond.  Nick crouched down and rested on his haunches, taking a swig of water from the canteen provided to him by Shields while Lacey stretched with feline grace.

“Five minutes,” I said softly, and went to find a place to piss.  I found a tree and watered it, and then leaned against it and lit a smoke.  I watched the silhouettes of Lacey and Nick from where I was as I smoked.  Lacey sat down beside Nick, and they spoke quietly.  I couldn’t make out what they were saying.  I slid down the tree until I was squatting.

Watching them reminded me of things.  I missed her, and with hollow grief came boiling hate.  I wanted to kill Adam.  I clutched my rifle hard and shut my eyes tight.  I can’t, though.  I can’t kill my own brother.  I can’t do it.

“Hey,” Lacey said softly.

I flinched at the sound of her voice.  I hadn’t seen her coming while I was lost in my memories.  I looked up, but the moonlight was behind her and all I saw was her shadowy outline against the sky.  I stood quickly, and knowing she could see my face even if I couldn’t see hers, I assumed a harsh yet passive expression.  ”What is it?” I asked.

“Look, I know you hate me and all, but I was wondering if maybe it’d be alright with you if I came back to the Roadhouse with you guys.”

I grinned, not an amused grin, or any type of grin, really.  It was an empty, flat grin.  ”I don’t hate you,” I replied.  ”And even if I did, you’d be in pretty good company.  Ask Nick if you can come, I don’t care.”

“I did,” Lacey said.  ”He said I had to ask you if it was alright.”

I sighed.  Nick was doing this to appease me.  And it was working.  ”Very well, let’s go then.”

We went and got Nick and then headed west along the river, keeping our eyes peeled for the ferry Shields had instructed us to find.

+

It was early morning when we heard the distant sound of a harmonica.  I raised my rifle, prepared for the worst.  We crested a hill, and from the top we saw an old man sitting on a lawn chair on the river bank.  Behind him, what could only be described as a raft was on the river, tied to a post on the shore.  I lowered my rifle and the three of us approached.

When we were still thirty feet away, the man stopped playing and smiled at us toothlessly.  He waved.  ”Ho there,” he called in a raspy voice.  He sported a long handlebar mustache and was otherwise dressed like a cowboy biker.

“Hello,” Nick called back. ”David Shields sent us, with his regards.”

The old man nodded and stood.  ”It’s a pleasure, in that case,” he replied jovially.  ”Name’s Phil.”

“Nick,” Nick responded.  ”And this is Lacey and Kevin.”

We now stood face to face with Phil.  ”So,” he said, producing a can of chew, “you’re all headed west, eh?  Got some heat on your tail?”  He put a massive wad of tobacco into his cheek and offered some to Nick.

“That’s right,” Nick replied, politely refusing with a wave of his hand.

“Well, then,” Phil started, spitting on the ground.  ”Seeing as how you’re friends with Mr Shields, I’ll cut ya all a break.  What’ve you got?”

“Excuse me?” Nick prompted worriedly.

“Ya know, fer payment.”

Nick sighed and nodded to me.  I sighed in turn and began to raise my rifle, but before I could, Phil had already produced a revolver in each hand, one on me, the other on Nick.

I let out a low whistle.  ”You’re pretty quick, old man.”

“Damn right.  Now let’s try this again:  What’ve you got?”

Phil wound up with Peterson’s phone, Lacey’s Zippo, and Nick’s wind-up pocket watch, all of which he took eagerly, but still reminded us that we were getting “a deal, a real hell of a deal.”  And proceeded to talk about the usual going rate for his services, and about how that one guy tried to get over on him but “no sir, I wouldn’t have it!  Shot him right in the eyeball from fifty feet.  Ever shot a man in the eyeball?”  He didn’t stop until the raft was loaded and we were well underway.  Then he sat down on his lawn chair and went to sleep.

We all wordlessly agreed with that idea, and soon Nick and Lacey were stretched out on the deck asleep and I was taking first watch.  I didn’t mind, the air out here was fresh, and I felt at ease for the first time since we had got on that damned rail car.

I was past exhausted.  The fighting and endless driving had all but wrung the last ounce of energy from my bones, but I couldn’t stop, not now.  There was work to do.

“DPM,” I started, but he was fixed on Adam, who was stalking away.  I snapped my fingers. “Mike, over here.”

He turned to me and shook his head, “Yeah, what’s up.  Glad you’re back.”

“Get a fire going and get all the lead you can find. I know we’ve got some fifty pound bricks lying around here, so get someone to round them up.   We need some lead sheets pronto.  And a Geiger counter.  I don’t suppose you’ve got one stashed away somewhere, do you?”

“Mike, what’s going on?”

“So that’s a no the Geiger counter?”

“Yeah, probably.  I don’t know why we’d have one.”

“Well, check anyhow.  I wonder if they’re hard to make, you should check into that too.”  I turned to the guard nearest me.  “Find my father and bring him here.  I don’t care what he’s doing, just get him here as fast as you can.”

I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers into my temples, trying to make the jumbled thoughts churning through my head coherent.  “DPM, hold up.  You said something Smarto and Kevin..?”

“Yeah, word is they’ve been captured at the trade summit.”

I let the words sink in for a few seconds before opening my eyes again.  “Ok.  I need you.  This may be the hardest we’ve been fucked in a long time.”

DPM started to ask something, but I cut him off when I saw my father coming down the hill from the Roadhouse in a trot.  “I need a garage,” I told him.  “Functional, but a few miles from the Roadhouse at least.”

Mike was quiet for a few seconds.  “I think I know one we can use.”

“Good.”

Skip stopped in front of us, no more out of breath than a man half his age would have been.  “What’s so urgent it’s got your panties in a twist?” he asked.

“We’re at war with the Associated North and we didn’t even know it,” I told him.

Dad seemed to slump just a bit at the weight of the news.  “You’ve got evidence I assume.”

I motioned to the tarped thing in the bed of the truck.  “I need it checked out, but…”

“But what?”

“I think that’s an atom bomb we intercepted.  We didn’t dare fiddle with it, but it reminds me of one.  DPM, do you know anyone..?”

“Sure, loads of people.  The tech’s only been dead for the last twenty years, but we’ve got loads of nuclear engineers.  Scratch that.  Nuclear weapons engineers.  Fuck me!”

“And you brought it here?  What if that was the plan and it’s on a timer?” Skip asked.

“We didn’t want to risk leaving it on the roadside to be found by harriers.”

Dad wasn’t very pleased with the answer, but he didn’t say more about it.  “DP, see if you can find someone who knows anything about bombs enough to tell us what the fuck this thing is.  Be discrete about it.  Get whatever you need from the garage and get this thing out of here, at least ten miles distant.  Take a dozen guards with you; I want Roney to hand pick his best men.  You’ve got twenty four hours to get some answers and get back here.  I’ll leave it to your best judgment if you want to bring the bomb back or not.”  Skip turned to me then.  “You look like shit.  Go get some sleep.  There’ll be an emergency council meeting when DPM gets back and I’ll need a full report from you.”

“Can’t do that just yet,” I said as I opened the back door of the truck. The AN prisoner fell to the ground in a heap.  “I’ve need some answers first.”