Dystopia Chapter 42: The Rest of the Story?

To my surprise, within twenty-four hours, a dozen men arrived with a wagon to collect the bodies. With a proclamation. “The bounty on your head is now doubled, and anyone associated with you will have a bounty placed on their head, DEAD or ALIVE. The Regional Governor expects you to surrender within forty-eight hours, or else the Governor’s militia will return to finish the extraction.”

Looking around now, I saw all eyes on me. I had no words. The best I could do was shrug and wonder what the ramifications of this threat might ultimately mean. Turning my attention to the rabble, I felt something familiar. I’m not good at recognizing faces, especially in an unfamiliar context, but scanning this group, I paused. Is that near the back, Brett and Cord? Overgrown beards, hats lowered, coated in a layer of dust, not making eye contact.

The wagon loaded, heads out. Addison, standing nearby, asked, “Do you recognize those hombres?”

“Should I?”

“Yeah.”

Hmm, waving, yelling, I added, “Please let the Regional Governor know we’ll set a table with snacks for her arrival.”

The lead flipped me off.

“Let her know she should come alone, unarmed. Tomorrow, I will meet her here at the gate. If she does not drop by, I’ll be moving on, so there’s no reason for you, your companions, to return to die. I will soon be elsewhere, but eventually we will meet.”

As if on cue, a flash of lightning followed by a crack of thunder echoing off the nearby mountain. The wagon pulled out. Meanwhile, two seemed to lag behind. Looking closer now, I saw it was Brett and Cord. Brett dismounted, acting as if his horse had pulled up lame. Waved and yelled, “We’ll catch up.”

Approaching the gate, grinning, he said, “Open the gate, we’re baaack.”

Hugs all around. Then, mixed feelings felt overwhelming. They were back. But, with good news or… bad. Frank offered to stable their horses as we headed to our table. The walk took forever while my mind raced.

At the table, Addison, with a joyful salutation, said, “First, welcome home! I mean, how did they not know you? Not…?”

“I think they did. They just thought they were playing us, and besides, their goal was to find Jesse, seeking retribution,” Cord added.

Sitting at the table felt uncomfortable, perplexed. Wanting to know, not wanting to know. They did not appear as two men with good news to share. Looking at each other, Cord began, “Good news or bad?”

For a moment, I felt unsure. In the background, voices were beginning a new day. Steps plodding along the walkway, folks headed to the kitchen or the fields. Each taking a quick look at us, some displaying anger, others fearful, non amicable. We represented unrest. A necessary immorality.

Looking down, elbows on the table, holding my head, breathing deep, I sighed, “The good.”

“We found them, both nearby, alive and well,” Brett said.

“The bad.”

“They had no desire to see you, or talk to you, or have anything to do with you,” Cord added.

My throat tightened, the air felt thick as I stared downward. This information begged a question: I was afraid to ask. I heard a chair move; looking up, saw Diana had joined the group. I thought about the sacrifice her father made, leaving her here entrusted to us to protect, to train. She hadn’t seen him for months. I recalled how fondly Addison spoke of her dad and his devotion to her education and ‘talents’ to survive in this decomposing world. And now my daughters, so close, wanting nothing to do with me.

Looking up, facing reality, I saw Addison watching me. “It’s time for the rest of the story,” she said. “Or walk away.”

“The rest of the story,” I mumbled.

Brett began, “You, your family, this was a setup from the start engineered by Max, the elder Eldridge son. You were scheduled to tutor that afternoon. Knowing this, Max sent his hooligans to town to do what they did, except to your wife. That was unplanned, an unpleasant situation that got way out of hand.”

“Mr. Eldridge owned the cafe and was planning to give it to your…to Stacy and Max was being cut out. They sent this crew to threaten your family. To send a message. To walk away from Mr. Eldridge’s offer.”

He was going to do what? I was unaware of this arrangement. She never mentioned this. “I don’t understand. She was about to take over. Why, what…this makes no sense.”

“Apparently, it was to be a surprise? A birthday gift? Or a precursor to the announcement of… another child,” Brett continued.

My head was spinning as I tried to grasp this narrative. Choking back anger, I found the absurdity of such news. Surely a fabrication. The world around me had now gone silent. The only sound was my hands striking the table. Looking up… “Child?”

“Mr. Eldridge, did he know about this plot?” Cord said.

“No, he did not,” Brett said.

“This crew, as you know, attacked your family, and as you know, raped your wife, and kidnapped your daughters. Brought the girls back to the ranch. Hid them and... The next day, Mr. Eldridge found out and sent his son, your daughters, and this deviant crew to his ranch in Wyoming.”

“I spent two years searching, and he said nothing.”

“He eventually moved with his wife, younger son and daughter to northern Arizona to a place called Meadview to reestablish his domain. His ranch here was unproductive, no grassland or water. Meanwhile, Max ran a semi-legit business, a cattle ranch with a cathouse on the side, where he provided young women for his clientele.”

“A whorehouse?” Addison surmised.

“Yes,” Brett said, nodding.

Cord continued, “Sandra became pregnant. They moved your daughters to Meadview. She gave birth to a daughter and soon after, both returned to the barrio.”

“They’re here now?”

Ignoring the question, Cord stated, “So, Max, not actually disowned. Still ‘family’ by blood, but more of a business partner. An associate, an inherited accessory.”

“He operates a sex slave operation,” Addison scoffed.

“Yes,” Brett said.

Cord continued, stating, “They conditioned the girls into believing you never attempted to find them.”

“How could they believe that?”

“They were young, trusting, and with few options,” Cord said.

“Susan now owns ninety percent of the cafe. Mr. Eldridge, the other ten percent.”

“How can she partner with him?” Diana asked.

“He treated them all adequately. At least compared to Max. And we all do what we can to carry on, to endure,” Brett added.

“Simple,” Addison added, “Mr. Eldridge kind of protected them, got them away from Max and the ranch, provided medical attention, returned them to a familiar setting and handed them a livelihood. It’s just ended with Sandra choosing a different path.”

“Sandra? A distinct path?”

“Upon her return with her daughter, Sandra allied herself with local miscreants, demonstrating a talent for manipulating and taking advantage of people,” Brett continued.

“Mrs. Eldridge, a talented businesswoman in her own right, taught Sandra the art of manipulation — how to use people. Sandra had risen in rank and now, somehow, people deemed her the Regional Governess. But you knew that.”

“Changed her last name, Rojo,” Brett added.

“One wants no contact, the other wants me dead? And both thinking I had abandoned them, betrayed them. And a granddaughter that will never know me other than stories built on lies.”

“This world has always existed and will always exist on the lies we tell others and ourselves,” Joshua added.

Sitting up, Frank interjected, “Something needs to be done, man! This is wrong on so many levels.”

Dazed, I slouched, sighed and felt emotionally exhausted and physically beaten.

To know one in particular, I mouthed, “I...”

“You need to meet with her… Susan,” Diana said, completing my thought.

“Susan?”

“Not the most emotionally aware man — no offense. There are two things you need to consider: the three-by-five card you still carry about, the one you pulled off the bulletin board down the road, weeks ago. Susan isn’t trying to eliminate you — she’s just not ready to let you back in,” Diana replied.

“Brett… Cord…, how? I need this. Please find a time and place I can bump into Susan unexpectedly, alone, just her and me.”

“I’ll try. I’ll need a day to clean up,” Cord volunteered.

“As will I,” Diana added, looking at Cord.

How could they believe I would do such a deed? The sun rose in the sky; I felt sweat dripping down my neck. Time to seek shade. Time for lunch.

“Brett… Cord…, thanks for finding the girls and willingness to bring back good news, bad news, hope.”

“Hope,” Addison said, “can be a cruel joke.”

Return to Table of Contents