Dystopia Chapter 55: The Exit

I spent a restless night grappling with questions — unanswered, punctuating moments of slumber. Why did Addison intervene? Everyone participating, uninvited? Did Brett lie to my face, and if so, who did he kill? Joshua, Frank, where were they? And Addison mentioned that there were seven horses, her words, “At the end there will be seven horses waiting, one each with supplies.”

One for me, Cord, and Addison. I vaguely recall seeing Joshua and Frank. Brett was not there; I heard his shot long after we exited the Barrio. Closing my eyes, I did my utmost to reconstruct the scene. Two others? Surely it could not have been.

From my corner, I could hear the kitchen staff setting up, the smell of… something in the air. Time for me to run away. That reminded me of the words to a song from the past. ‘50 Ways to Leave Your Lover.’ Caring for others is meaningless, ending in disappointment. Gotta run.

In the staging area, my mount fed, watered, and brushed as I prepared for my last exit. My choices were few. Next, I trudged up the ladder to my cubicle for the last time, gathered a few remaining artifacts: a bedroll, saddlebag, a couple of books, and tacky knick-knacks from my past. In a few minutes, someone will occupy the space. How could I miss so little?

Head down, I approached the main gate alone. I could see small groups huddled about, whispering, staring at me while a few flipped me off. Days earlier they would have cheered me, or us, as we arrived with a wagon of sought-after supplies.

Outside, a line had formed at the gate. Here, the homeless arrived each morning before sunrise, hoping beyond hope they could receive an invitation to stay. Few ever made it in. I could see Ms. Bishop interviewing newbies. She looked up, and upon seeing me, her face showed a mixture of disappointment and anger. Mr. Maddox stood nearby. He is always serious, focused on the task at hand. He approached and asked, “What do you think you are doing?”

Society was not improving, more tribal, certainly more violent, still broken, struggling, and… as a ‘retired teacher and lover of words’ seeking that all-encompassing term to describe our shared situation… turbulent, characterized by conflict, disorder, or confusion; neither controllable nor calm. Uprooted communities and broken lives filled my mind as a bolt of lightning struck nearby, making my horse rear up while folks cringed.

There was a plan! The night before, we sat for the last time around this table.

Everyone sat waiting, listening. Silence. It was simple, but first, “Time for that conversation.”

“Who should I hold responsible for yesterday’s turmoil?”

Brett answered, “Everyone.”

Joshua remarked, “We played the hand we were dealt.”

Cord added, “We just thought, ‘What would Jesse do?’”

“There was no way Susan’s plan would pan out. From the very beginning, it carried an air of inevitable failure. Susan had no control over any aspect of her proposal… zip. Sandra, full of hate, would never stand down.” Frank summarized.

Addison? Locking eyes, she asked, “What outcome did you anticipate from this foolhardy meeting?”

“I thought.”

“Grow up. Our days are running out; our choices are few. This way Susan still has a choice: she can stay and forget. She can stay and regret that she didn’t pull the trigger and fulfill her commitment to Sandra. Meanwhile, our welcome has ended, and we believe it’s time to move on.”

“She’s right, it’s decision time,” Brett said, the tension in the air almost palpable, “as the bounty grows, the likelihood increases that someone or some group will plot to collect the reward.”

As the sun set, shadows approached, stepping into the light generated by a flickering candle. Four or five figures, bunched together, arrived with a mission.

“Indeed, trouble,” Joshua warned.

Stopping at the table’s edge, a familiar voice announced, “As a representative of the committee and Mr. Maddox, our security officer, we’re here to share our concern that you have placed us on the map and the word is, trouble is coming.”

Silence.

“So, after expanding the Well’s capacity and providing materially, you are expelling us?”

“We feel that perhaps you all should vacate the Well.”

Standing, I asked, “Is this a request or—? Mr. Maddox, a question… when trouble comes, would you prefer we are inside the gate or outside, looking in?”

Silence…

“Trouble is here, and certainly we all appreciate all you’ve done, but the governor’s demand is clear. Hand you over or expect a grim reckoning.”

“And this is how you repay us for our loyalty? Just kicking us out?”

Head down, stepping back, he said, “You’re the problem. You’ve gotta go.”

Silence, until a single gunshot broke the moment.

“They outnumber us… we outnumber you… Get gone.”

A flash of lightning lit the sky for a moment, followed by a rumble announcing the approaching storm. The lightning exposed the group, fearful yet determined, as well as others nearby, backup in the shadows, prepared to join in the fray should there be resistance.

“Guess the plan is clear, see you all in the morning,” Frank concluded.

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