Dystopia Chapter 22: Good Day Gentlemen

What was he thinking? Jesse, educated and creative, once a teacher by trade, recently a kitchen helper, now leads our Scout Team. Average-looking — five foot ten, brown hair and brown eyes — physically fit. Capable of reasoned thinking. Mostly. A southpaw — left-handed and proud of it. Independent, a bit of a loner. Occasionally, I wondered if he had a death wish. Thoughts concealed. Moody, as if carrying a weight, a sadness and, like all of us, a history unwilling to share. Looks like a family affair. The cause of this unhappiness lurking somewhere in the background. Just a hunch.

I suspected something was up when I overheard him ask the stable hand to keep his horse saddled. He would be back later. And he was, just before dusk. Thought he was sneaking out. Amateur move. It didn’t take a genius to predict a likely destination. From my vantage point, easy enough to observe his moves. The only question, why. But regardless, trouble seemed to find him like a magnet. And because none of us wanted to be promoted, figured we needed to watch his back.

I’m certainly not opposed to trouble. Learned years ago, I rarely needed to seek it out; always some yahoo, like a peacock, ready to flaunt his bravado. They underestimated me, and there was a trail of bodies left behind, no longer able to brag about macho exploits. Dad taught me how to handle men who thought I was a fragile flower and how to turn away unwanted attention. And how to end a relationship. My ex slapped me once. He went missing after that.

So we follow. Saw him enter the town, ambling along, eyes down, slumped over, looking beaten down by time, a lone wolf.

We halted outside the settlement to plan. Never visited, just one of many collectives filled with users and used. In our community, they were a noticeable, yet unremarkable, part of the universe, distinguishable only by gunfire. This would be our first interaction.

The plan. I appear the least threatening. The easiest to approach and enticing. Petite, female, alone, a soft target.

“I’ll enter and move toward where there seems to be activity, lights, voices, and several horses being attended to, fed and watered.”

“Cord and Joshua, once you identify the structure that I go into, look for a back entrance and be alert. You may need to bail us out.”

“Frank, after I enter the town, follow and note issues we may encounter when we exit. If there are indeed attendees caring for horses, chat them up. Wait, because when I come out with Jesse in tow, we may leave in a rush, and if followed, create a diversion, hopefully shooting no one.”

“Brett, (pointing) locate a position on the ridge offering a view of the street. If this all goes sideways, we’ll likely need cover.”

“Good luck.”

I undid the top two buttons, exposing what men couldn’t resist: a look. A distraction. Few sources of light were available along the street, casting eerie shadows. Chap sitting close to an open workshop, a lantern nearby, moths circling the flame, either a worker or guard? Whatever, smiled. Once by, he stood up, watching my progress, stepped onto the street, rifle in hand.

Reached the end of the street, two attendants jumped up, smiled, and offered to take care of my steed, distracted, and any other needs. Again, a toothy smile, “No charge.”

“Later, boys.” Inquired where I could find a meal. Jesse must be nearby. I spotted his horse as they directed me toward an aged, rundown structure with a distinctive, manly odor clouding the entrance. Entered the building, stopped to adjust myself, and listened, trying to get a sense of what was happening. The room was rough and crowded, then I heard Jesse was in trouble. Voices on my right upon entering. I had a view of the entire area. Perhaps a dozen men sitting in groups. Candles struggling to illuminate patches of floor scattered about an unlit room.

I heard, “Interlock your fingers and place your hands behind your head and shut up.” More conversations, mumbled.

Jesse said, “Okay, so you seem convinced I’m the one, and there’s not much I can say to convince you otherwise. So… is your goal to shoot me where I stand?”

Then another, “Shoot you where you stand, that’s ironic, no, we’ll vote, then I’ll shoot you. We’re not executioners, we’re law-abiding citizens.”

Again, “Everyone in here that heard his BS and thinks he’s innocent, raise your right hand. Hmm, seems they all think you're a liar.”

Stepping forward into the light, “I’d like to hear more. Heard a different version. Can I vote?”

More banter ensued when Cord and Joshua joined the confrontation, stepping into the room. Suggesting everyone relax, eat, drink, and not get involved, and “keep your hands on the table.”

Attention now divided between two dudes, or the recent appearance of a well-formed, soft-spoken woman.

Scowling at me, “Listen, you need to butt out, none of your…” the aggressor, distracted by the movement, shifted focus and bellowed.

Unable to complete his sentence before Addison drew, cocked, and finished the sentence, “…business,” demanding he stand down.

Addressing Jesse, “So, having a bad day? Your lucky day? Now get your pistol and put it back in your back holster. Tip the nice lady. Then exit through the front door where another awaits with horses readied for our exit,” and to everyone listening, “if someone should stick their head out the door before we’re gone, our other friend will greet you with a scattergun. Clear? Oh, and dude, be sure to limp. It was so realistic.”

Jesse collected his SOB. He approached the door and dropped a silver round in its place, distracting Mitch. I smiled, stroked my neck, tilted my head back, and added, “Oh, bro, holster your weapon. If you think I won’t drop you where you stand and then Mitch before you hit the ground, you’re absolutely mistaken.”

Slipping back, “Good-day, gentlemen.”

Cord and Joshua slipped out the back. We hustled out, grabbed and mounted our horses, flipped the attendees another round, Frank emptied a barrel above the entrance, spurred our rides, cantered a step, then pushed to a gallop. Cord and Joshua appeared from an alley. Shit. There in the middle of the street, the guard, please run, move, get out of the way. I heard a single gunshot echoing off the buildings. A lantern to the left flipped, ignited, flames ablaze. The guard spun, surprised, dropped his rifle, hands up. We rode back to safety. Home. Strange, never thought of it as a home.

The stable staff bedded the horses for the night.

Jesse stepped aside, vomited. He stood, walked away with a card in hand. I just shook my head. Not a word.

What was on the card? There would always be a tomorrow.

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