Epilogue
- Dawn Song by Eliot Ireland -
Before Isla Haley can even sit down in the nearly empty noodle shop she is served a bowl of thick noodles swimming in a rich brown broth. Her meal is paired with a glass of aromatic black wine. She sips on the wine nervously, her eyes fixed to the front door.
“Isla,” a voice says and she jumps.
Sara Grace and Rayne Washington had come up behind her from a door in the back and their sudden appearance brings a nervous smile to her face. They are both tall, striking and impeccably dressed.
Isla wiggles her fingers to the toddler in Rayne’s arms. She still thought of the boy as Skylar, but as he sat between his parents his face betrayed that he was Zacharias Washington.
“I hope my staff have treated you well,” Rayne says to her.
Isla nods quickly and the couple sits in the booth across from her. She's never spoken to Rayne Washington before, his voice is dripping and deep.
Almost as soon as they sit down more drinks and food are put in front of them. Sara quickly moves the hot soup out of the toddler's grasp.
“We’ve been discussing an appropriate amount,” Rayne says not wasting anymore formalities. “I can afford 5 million.”
“That works,” Isla said, trying not to show her shock at the amount. She’s expected 500,000 at the most.
“You don’t have to take it,” Sara reminds her. “You can still come around if you’d like.”
Isla shook her head. She had appreciated Sara returning and letting her have a long proper goodbye the day they took Skylar away. But Isla hadn’t been ready to be a mother in any sort of capacity. She was only 21 and she'd lived more of her life carrying the burdens of others; her mother then her brothers and then her husband. It had all made her angry and callous at life --she didn’t want to feel that way anymore.
She was ready to be on her own for once. She wanted to get away and see what was outside of the small community she’d grown up in. She wanted to see the world. And when Sara had agreed to offer her some compensation for keeping her son safe she'd agreed.
“I’m ready to let go,” Isla says."I actually already have some trips planned."
Isla reaches into her bag and pulls out a stuffed small pink lamb. The 2-year-old immediately scooped it up and Sara smiled with a sigh.
“He put this in Alex's trunk when we mailed it. We thought we should give it to you,” Isla explained. “It was inside the swaddling when I took the baby in. I thought it might be special”
“It is. It was mine,” Sara tells her quietly. “My parents gave it to me,”
They sit in silence as Rayne makes the transfer of money to her account.
“Do you think he will be alright ?,” Isla asks, making the toy lamb leap across the table.
Sara and Rayne exchange deep looks.
"I don't know," Sara admits quietly. "We live in an...unstable world."
Rayne grips her shoulder.
"But we love him and we're going to do everything in our power to protect him." Rayne interrupts. "He got away from us once and we won’t let that happen again.”
+++
Five Republic Liberation Army soldiers are sent to Fort Pride for a disciplinary outpost.
The isolated fort was built 1,000 miles from the sprawl in nuclear wasteland that still gave
off heat radiation with too much exposure. They'd all heard the rumor that Ft. Pride had been named because it was the place arrogant men were sent to lose their pride.
When the soldiers deplaned they were met with a landscape of cleared nuclear ash dotted with thick military tents and a single ominous brick structure--the notorious Northland Penitentiary . The men stood to attention as Command Sgt. Kenneth Maxwell approached them through the dust. The sergeant wore his ranks pinned to a wrinkled fatigue shirt he had left unbuttoned to reveal a black undershirt.
His skin was tanned to an even bronze from the sun and his dark eyes stared lifelessly, barely landing on any of the men for more than a second.
Removing his sweat soaked fatigue shirt Maxwell read the corporals the riot act:
"Fort Pride is the home of Northland Penn--a maximum security prison for the most violent and psychotic offenders in the Republic. Keeping this criminal population contained will be your only job and I will tell you this now--you will hate your job. You will work everyday. You will be asked by the Republic to execute at least one of these vile motherfuckers if not more and they will fight you when their time comes.
"There are no weekends. There is no leave. There is no recreation .There is no air conditioning or running water and this site is low tech so you will only be able to use satellite radios. There is no complaining. You will be here 5 weeks--I live here. I have very little patience so don't fuck up,"
Maxwell pointed towards the largest tent.
"Claim your bunks and meet me back here in 30 minutes," he barked.
The men were quick to follow the order. Maxwell turned his back on them and slowly paced to the thick, high framed tent he used as an office and barrack. He doesn't even wait to be out of the new corporals eyesight before taking a long hit on his pipe and letting thick smoke flood out of his mouth.
After being released by Strange or Gray or who
ever the hell he had been Maxwell went to headquarters and came clean to Lt.
Winthrop about everything. He took Gray's video and returned it to
Hinkley as a peace offering. Maxwell didn't want to lie and blackmail and scheme anymore. He'd
decided to stop running.
He'd
waited days for his official court martial.
But it never came.
Instead Headquarters found a better punishment.
Fort Pride.
Cass had told them he could go to Ft. Pride as a prisoner or as a warden.
He'd chosen the latter and it had become clear he would never be welcome back in Headquarters.
In the short time he'd been here he'd
a been attacked in his sleep by prisoners attempting to escape--twice.
He'd dragged dozens of men and women to get their lethal injections.
Two corporals had gone mad from the monotonous silence and despair. One weak willed soldier had even thrown himself into the cremation furnace.
Two degrees from Berkley, a JD from Stanford, a fellowship in the Attorney General's office and he's somehow landed here.
Maxwell steps into his office and hears his satellite radio crackling as a fuzzy RLA News Network broadcast comes in. His desk was covered with projections of the endless paper work he had to do to keep track of all the prisoners.
"The leaders will be meeting to discuss more potential cease fires and Secretary Finch will present her plans for economic equality and land sharing ," the radio blares. "In front line news a stand off between two convoy jets..."
The radio dissolves into static.
Picking up his coolant lined water
bottle Maxwell rests his eyes on Haley who sits cross legged
on the desk slowly moving the radio's satellite lines to reconnect the signal. The tips of his ponytail just barely tapping his back with each movement.
"It's broken," Haley says quietly.
Maxwell sits in his desk chair and stretches his legs on the top of the desk. He take a long drink from the bottle and kicks the radio hard. It lands on the floor with a smack. The radio goes silent before starting up again, this time the sound of Meredith Barrister Finch herself doing her usual reading of the names of the dead and missing every hour on the hour.
"Moira Tannis, enemy fire. Hansard Morgan, biochemical warefare. Cole Sampson, captured..."
Maxwell leans back into his chair and Haley moves to straddle Maxwell's waist with his knees and lowers his head. Maxwell doesn't make eye contact.
"Sgt. Maxwell ?," Haley says quietly
Maxwell closes his eyes.
Haley takes the water bottle from his hand and puts it to his own lips. After a small sip he immediately spits it out.
"That's not water," Haley whispers harshly.
"It's mostly water," Maxwell
says with a frown.
Maxwell takes another long drink, this time keeping the ice in his mouth, sucking away the alcohol and letting the ice cool him. Haley leans forward and their tongues and then their lips connect over the melting ice. Icy water drips down between them and rolls down Maxwell's chest but he acts as though he can't feel it--his expression remaining distant and flat.
"Jon Halbeck,
captured. Ian McClare, fuel accidents. Harry Morton, AWOL."
"Shoot me in my sleep tonight," Maxwell grumbles. He said things like that weekly.
"No," Haley says. "Do it yourself."
He'd actually thought about what it would be like to kill Maxwell but Maxwell didn't care if he died anymore.
“When does my this end ?,” Haley asks moving his palm across his lips.
Maxwell frowns and his hand
aimlessly traces the spine in Haley's back. It brought back the memory of being locked in that room and Maxwell freezes up. Maxwell knew Haley was counting
down the days until his sentence was up.
“Your sentence ends in 4 months," Maxwell said tersely."You know that."
"Marissa Carr, friendly fire, George Moore, suicide..."
Haley sits back on his heels and looks at the radio and out the window at the uniformed corporals lining up in formation.
“No, I mean...when does this end ?”
***
"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT," I cry.
I hear Sage laugh at me.
Jean is holding my forehead down in the chair and uses his shirt sleeve to wipe the sweat from my forehead. I look up into his bright pink eyes and his smiles at me reassuringly.
After what feels like an eternity of pain, ice cold water is sprayed down my arm, tempering the redness and making the dark ink stand out against the skin of my arms. I sit up in the reclining chair and look at the ink; the scars from having the blades removed have all but disappeared under Pretty Boy's expert hand--even if it had hurt like hell.
When I sit up I see Minnow had walked into the ink shop at some point. She's somehow found space for herself in Sage's chair. Her legs are draped over the handle bars and when I catch her eye she windmills her legs to stands up.
"What does Rayne want now, little sister?," Jean sighs.
I hadn’t seen Minnow as much anymore.tI still wasn't used to her being Rayne's errand girl.
"He wants fucking everything," she answers with a smile. "I'm not here for Rayne. I'm here to tell Alan and his pretty little freak show that they should go back up north."
"Hey--," Sage starts.
"I said you were pretty," Minnow counters.
Sage scowls.
"Why the hell would I go back ?," I ask. I'd barely been back a few weeks and most of that time was in surgery getting the blades removed. "I've been exiled long enough...I'm ready to come back. Rayne said I could--"
"Rayne is in I have my son back la-la land. Things have changed, Alan. Shit is tougher now--"
"I don't have much of a choice," I reminder her. "I can't just walk away from the cartel and I don't have anywhere else to go. I may as well stick around... make some money,"
"Listen to me, Alan. Being Shy Cartel puts a target on your back. The Mjollner and the Cavolcotti are still out to kill us," Minnow tells me. "The RLA has been picking people off the street."
With each word she steps closer to me, I put my hand on the small of her back when she is inches from me. She looks down and looks at the Shy ink that now covered my arms to hide the scars from the blade. At some point during the tattoo Pretty Boy had run out of Shy Cartel art and kill signs so I'd told him to just start stenciling things; mechanical bodyparts, small fish, scythes and other random shit.
"I know shit is
insane," I tell her."Shit has has been insane for me since I was
kidnapped three years go...but I'm here and I want to be here. I get that things are bad but, it feels like now that Rias is back...I don't know this place
feels less toxic. His kidnapping started this bullshit, maybe him coming back can end it."
I heard Pretty Boy laugh and Jean nods like he agrees with something.
"Bless your heart, Alan Gray" Jean laughs. "It's never that easy."
"That adorable baby is still a Washington," Pretty Boy smiles "One day he might fuck us all up--"
"If the Cartel doesn't fuck him up first," Minnow counters. "I mean... you see how crazy Luce is."
"So, what ?," I say. "We shouldn't have brought him back ?"
Minnow shrugs.
"I don't know. Atleast Sara is happy," she says.
The room is silent for a while.
"Fuck it," Jean says loudly. "Maybe one day he'll be fucked,
maybe one day we'll be fucked but since we are in the present lets worry about
tonight. Alan is back and we are going to get fucking drunk and celebrate our little homecoming--"
"Are we going to dance ?," Minnow asks shaking her hip and Jean
laughs.
"Oh, we will dance--," Jean smiles spinning her in his arms.
"And gamble," I add. I’d just gotten 50,000 cold from Rayne for returning his kid and I intended to double it.
"And fuck ?," Minnow winks at me
"And get high," Jean adds. "And laugh. And...and..."
"What ? And then what ?," I challenge him.
"And then…tomorrow."
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