Dystopia Chapter 22: Good Day Gentlemen

What was he thinking? Jesse — educated, if unpredictable, creative, once a teacher by trade, now leads our Scout Team. (Although not by choice.) Average-looking guy, 5’10’’, brown hair, brown eyes, southpaw, physically fit — capable of thoughtful thinking — mostly. Independent, a bit of a loner. Occasionally, I wondered if he had a death wish. Thoughts buried. Moody, as if carrying a weight, a sadness and, like all of us, a history he was unwilling to share. Looked like a family affair. The cause of this unhappiness lurked 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. I thought he was sneaking out. Amateur move. It didn’t take a genius to predict a likely destination. From my vantage point, it was easy enough to observe his moves. The only question, why. But regardless, trouble was his superpower. And because none of us wanted to be promoted, we figured we needed to cover his keister.

I’m certainly not opposed to trouble. I learned years ago that I rarely needed to seek it out; there was always some yahoo ready, like a peacock, flaunting their manliness. They underestimated me, and there was a trail of bodies left behind, victimizers no longer able to gloat 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. Now he’s gone missing.

So we followed. 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 used and users. From our community, they existed only as noise — an indistinguishable overlay, except for the 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, wait, cause 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. There was a chap sitting close to an open workshop, a lantern nearby, winged bugs buzzing about, either a worker or guard? Whatever, I smiled. Once by, he stood up, watching my progress, stepped onto the street, rifle in hand.

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

“Later, boys.” I inquired where I could find a meal. Jesse must be nearby. I saw his horse as they directed me toward an aged, rundown structure with a distinctive, manly odor clouding the entrance. I entered the building, stopped to adjust myself, and listened, trying to get a sense of what was happening: interactions in the room were lowbrow, the room full of bodies, then heard and realized 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’s voice, “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?”

“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.” Lucky snorted, laughing at his own diversion. “Everyone in here that heard his BS and thinks he’s innocent, raise your right hand.”

As I stepped into the light, I asked, “I’d love to know more.”

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

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

Big brother scowled at me. “None of your business; you need to butt out,” he bellowed, shifting focus.

Not a man alive tells me what to do. I drew, cocked, and strongly suggested, “Stand down, now.”

Addressing Jesse, “So, having a bad day?” I asked, “Your lucky day? Now get your pistol and put it back in your back holster. Tip the server. Then exit through the front door where Frank 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. As I recall, it was the other leg.”

Jesse collected his back holster, moved toward the doors, while dropping a silver round on the table. I smiled, stroked my neck, tilted my head back, and added, “Oh, not so lucky, Lucky; 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.”

As I retreated, I said, “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, surprised, dropped his rifle, hands up. We exited back to safety. Home. Strange, never thought of it as a home.

We bedded the horses for the night.

Jesse stepped aside, vomited, shock setting in, trying to catch his breath. Standing, he walked away with the card in hand.

I just shook my head as we watched. Not a word.

I stood there, wondering what was on the card. Tomorrow we will deal with this mayhem.

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