Shadows Have Gone (30 page)

“I don’t mean I killed him,” Justin said. “Sorry. I meant I left him there when I took the truck. He’s okay. Really.”

She blinked, trying hard to keep her cool, professional demeanor.

Aw, dammit. These people are supposed to be the enemy.
Justin exhaled slowly. “What’s your name?”

“Sandra. I mean, Corporal Cassandra Mallon.”

“Corporal, if you’d lead the way? I’m not sure where I’m supposed to go.”

She gave a little nervous cough but nodded. “Yes, please follow me, First Sergeant.”

Justin shook his head. “I’m out. I don’t use the rank.”

“Um, what should I . . . uh, Mr. Thatcher?”

Justin sighed. He raked a hand through his hair. “Call me whatever you want, okay?”

She nodded. “If you would, um, this way.”

Justin gave her a small smile, and she smiled back, a little tentative, but he saw the tight grip she had on the rifle relax.

They walked down the gravel path toward a one-story office. Behind it, he saw the ghostly outline of large, cylindrical tanks, like white submarines docked in a row behind the building. Men and women in uniform began to peer from doorways and windows and to creep around corners to watch them pass. Justin counted thirty or so, most of them with soft faces like the young woman beside him, not the cold, cynical, battle-hardened bastards Justin had assumed Lewis would collect.

Cassandra sneezed.

“Bless you,” Justin said, and she laughed, a sudden, stark sound in the crisp night air.

“You’re nothing like I expected.”

“Yeah, same here. Lewis always manages to surprise people.”

She sneezed again.
 

“Sorry. I don’t have a tissue to offer.”

She waved a hand. “It’s okay. Just a bit of a cold I picked up on my last scouting mission.”

Here they were, talking like ordinary people. Was she one of the ones Lewis had stationed out front in case Justin decided to go the bloodbath route? His anger rose again.

They reached the door, and she opened it with a snappy salute. “It was nice to meet you, First Sergeant.”

Justin tapped his fingers to his forehead. “You, too, Corporal.”

Justin stepped inside. A man was waiting for him. “Good evening, First Sergeant. I’m Lieutenant Craig—”

“Can you just please drop the formality and take me to Lewis?” Justin said.

Craig’s smile wobbled, then fell. “Yes, right away, First—”

“Justin, please. This isn’t the army, and I’m not in the mood for pretending it is.”

“Whatever you say. End of the hall.”

“Where is my wife?” Justin spoke loudly, hoping if Carly was in the building, she would hear his voice and make a sound.

Craig looked uncomfortable for a moment. “Why don’t you talk to Lewis about that?”

Justin fought back the urge to slam Craig against the ugly faux-wood paneling and demand answers. His fists clenched so hard he could feel his nails digging into his palms, but he held back.

Justin headed down the hallway, his boots crunching on the leaves of the dead potted plants. The narrow, dark walls and low ceiling seemed to close in on him. Justin forced himself to relax and take deep breaths.

He passed dark, empty offices, searching for signs of Carly anywhere. Two of the doors were closed, but when he paused, he heard nothing from within. Craig’s eyes actually held sympathy as he halted to wait for Justin to continue.

The door at the end of the hall loomed before him, not because the hollow core panel was particularly imposing but because he knew who was behind it. Justin had to collect himself for a moment before he could raise his hand to knock.

“Enter,” Lewis said, and the sound of his voice was a knife in Justin’s gut.

He twisted the knob and pushed the door open. The room was brightly lit by florescent panels and a lamp on the corner of the desk. Justin had to let his eyes adjust for a second, unused to the glare of artificial light after two years of candles.

Lewis sat behind the desk, wearing a neatly pressed, olive drab officer’s dress uniform. His tie was perfect. His hands were folded, resting on the leather blotter, the only thing occupying the desk’s wide, gleaming rosewood surface. Other than a single chair in front of the desk, the office was empty, its walls blank, its carpet still bearing the ghostly depressions where other furniture had been removed.

Lewis hadn’t changed, but Justin hadn’t expected he would. His face was still unlined, unremarkable, a disguise without artifice. And he still had that slight, amused quirk to his lip.

“Hello, Justin,” Lewis said.

He didn’t bother with a greeting. “Where is she?”

“She’s not here,” Lewis said. “We did have her, but she escaped. And now you’re here. How marvelous.”

A wave of relief swept through him, so powerful that it was difficult to remain still, not to let it show.

She was out and hopefully headed for home.
Please let her be headed for home.
Hopefully her motherly instincts would drive her to go check on their baby, not to linger here.

Lewis was watching him with that little smile still in place. Anger replaced the relief. “Fuck you, and fuck your games.”

Lewis shrugged. “I tried asking nicely.”

“You really think this is going to make me want to come back?”

“Perhaps. Especially if you see the safety of your family is in jeopardy.”

“I will kill you where you sit, Lewis.” Justin didn’t care if he had to do it with his bare hands. He would find a way.

Lewis could see he meant it. Justin knew that from the hard glint in the older man’s eyes, but he spread his hands as if in protest.

“I didn’t mean from me. What I meant was that it’s obvious you need more security for your family. If my troops could get her—new recruits only barely beginning their training—who else could harm potentially her?”

“You leave her out of this, Lewis. I mean it. No more games. No more ‘demonstrations’ that you can get to us. Nothing. Do you hear me? This shit is between you and me, and my family stays out of it.”

“Free and clear, Justin. I won’t touch them. I swear it.”

“And I swear that—”

“Justin, have you ever known me to go back on my word?”

“No.”

“I won’t touch your wife or daughter. I swear it.”

“Good.” Justin turned to leave.

“Hear me out, and I’ll never trouble you again.”

Justin looked back over his shoulder. “Is that another promise?”

Lewis hesitated. What was that cold, reptilian mind of his calculating? The chances of Justin being pissed off rather than being convinced by further antics?

In the end, he couldn’t go without asking. Justin dropped down into the chair. “Why?”

“Why
what
?”

“Why all of it?”

“That’s a ridiculous question. You want the answer to life, the universe, and everything? It’s forty-two. Try to be more specific.”

Justin took a deep breath. He felt a little tickle in his throat as he did, but he didn’t want to turn his head and cough lest Lewis take it as a sign of nervousness. “Okay, we’ll start with why are you here?”

“Because
you’re
here—as your friend’s radio message so helpfully informed me.”

“What do you want from me?”

“What I always wanted from you.”

Justin shook his head. “Even more of an impossibility now.”

Lewis gazed at him for a moment. “Your wife is lovely.”

“Thanks.” Justin picked at the laces of his boots in a deliberate display of indifference.

“She has Carl’s eyes.” Lewis took the handkerchief and dabbed at his temples before he swiped it over his forehead. It wasn’t because of the temperature—the room was unheated and downright chilly. Justin was surprised. He’d never seen the man sweat, even in the worst of situations.

Justin felt sweat gathering on his forehead, too, and swiped his sleeve over it. It had to be nerves, as much as he hated to show it.

“Yeah, she does have her father’s eyes. And his chin, if I recall that picture in your office properly.”

Lewis gave him a wide smile, his white teeth gleaming in the shrill light of the florescent bulbs. “You remember that, do you?”

He seemed to be waiting for Justin to ask why he’d had it so prominently displayed. Justin wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

Lewis did something odd. He reached down and touched a drawer on the desk. He seemed to consider saying something but changed his mind. When he looked up, his face had suffused with a red undertone.

Anger or embarrassment? It was unusual either way.

“In any case, I’m glad you’ve found happiness.”

Justin arched an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Lewis laughed. “No, not really. But if Carl didn’t survive, I’m glad his daughter did. He would have willingly given the vaccine to her if I’d presented him with the choice. He adored that girl.”

“And I’d willingly give my dose to my daughter. That’s fatherhood, Lewis.” Justin wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve. He glanced at the baseboard heater and considered reaching down to turn it on. The nervous sweat he couldn’t seem to stop was making him downright cold. He wished he’d worn a jacket over his long-sleeved shirt, but he’d been thinking of maneuverability, not warmth. He saw the curtains behind Lewis move slightly and realized the window behind it was open. Justin wondered if the unheated room was some kind of psychological tactic, to make him uncomfortable so Justin would—

He inwardly laughed, because he suspected Lewis of everything, even manipulating the temperature of a room for sneaky reasons.

Lewis tapped his fingers on the blotter. “I never imagined you as a family man.”

“Well, that makes two of us.” Justin waved a hand, and he saw Lewis’s eyes follow it as his ring caught the light.

“That’s Carl’s ring.” Lewis’s face went blank, and he froze in place, not seeming even to breathe.

“Yes.”

His skin looked pallid under its odd flush. Lewis’s eyes flicked up to meet Justin’s. “Carly gave it to you?”

“Obviously.” Justin glanced down at it. It was now Justin’s wedding ring, slipped onto his finger as he’d said his vows to Carly. She had worn it on a chain around her neck when they left Alaska, and he knew how much it meant to her, the only possession of her father’s she had left. “It’s the only one I’ve ever seen.”

“It was the only one ever made.”

Justin tilted his dead. “Did you give it to him?”

Lewis didn’t answer.

“I guess that would make sense if it was the only one ever made.” Justin lowered his hand. “Let’s stop the dancing, Lewis. Why are you here?”

Lewis seemed to recover some of his equilibrium, but he looked pale and waxy under that hectic flush. “Following orders, as always.”

“Orders? From whom?”

“My superiors.”

“Washington?” Justin stared at him hard. “You’re telling me you’re in contact with Washington?”

Lewis gave him a small smile. “You thought we’d let a little apocalypse stop us?”

“Why aren’t you with them?”

“Them who?”

“
Them
them. The big guys. Washington.”

“Your wife asked the same thing.” Lewis sat back in his chair and folded his hands again. The amused quirk returned to his lips.

“And I bet you gave her as convoluted a non-answer as you’ll give me.”

“No, I’ll just say again that I’m following orders.”

“They told you to come and get me? Me, Justin Daniels?”

Lewis was the one who arched a brow this time. “Your name was Thatcher.”

Justin didn’t feel like explaining he’d taken Carly’s last name because of the respect he’d felt for her father and the lack of attachment he’d had to the name assigned to him in foster care. Then again, Lewis wasn’t really the kind who needed things like that explained to him. He’d probably infer it and come up with half a dozen other psychological reasons why Justin had done it that he, himself, hadn’t even known.

“No one asks for ID anymore. I can call myself whatever I want. Answer the question. They sent you for me? Specifically for me?”

Lewis gave him a rare, straight answer. “No, that was my own little detour. But I was told to collect the best people for the task at hand, and when I discovered where you were, I headed this way.”

“With your band of merry men, apparently.”

“I’ve been gathering men and women as we travel.”

“I doubt our purpose in gathering folks is similar. You’re not intending to set up farming, are you?”

Lewis gave a soft laugh. “No, I can’t say that I am.”

“Then what are you doing? What are your orders?”

Lewis shrugged. “It’s not terribly complex. Establish order and the authority of the United States government.”

“Well, I’m already doing that, and I don’t need to join you to get the job done. You can pack up and head on out to the next lawless territory. Send me a postcard now and then.”