Роберт Уилсон - Days Since... - Xavier - Day 853

SITREP

Sir:

It pleases me to share that the plan is running smoothly. River’s Edge has proven to be a fine addition. As you know, upon initial contact, the town was unreceptive to vassalage. That decision has obviously been rescinded. We instituted a typical Stage Two against the town. We recruited a loner for trials, and he proved to be quite accurate. A bit apprehensive at first, but typically, the deal convinces them to cooperate. The staged attacks, utilizing the loner and percussion grenades, produced masterfully. It took a period of two weeks of measured attacks resulting in minimal casualties for them to request our protection.

Citizens of River’s Edge are enamored with the agreement and are often heard boasting of the three month period without attacks. A typical Stage Three process, as drawn up for LPH Fortress, should strengthen our grasp upon the town.

“Found it! Got it now. What you got there, boy?”

Stage Three has only recently begun with the introduction of a two-meal day and standard JCN procedures. We are still friendly with the natives, but occasionally they have to be put back in their place. The buildup of Second Alliance Guards has largely gone unquestioned. It should not be long until we have enough people in place to turn it over to ourselves without resistance. We do, after all, have a lot to offer.

Your request for Xavier has been received, and as you hold this letter, you will know that he is with you. It is important that you allow him to assist the Maintenance Supervisor, Marshall Grant, with the solar panels. I understand that Xavier may not be returning,

“What’s he mean by that?” Xavier whispered to himself.

but I do reiterate the importance of this project. River’s Edge needs substantial upgrades to their power situation. They have limited gasoline, which in all honesty, is impressive it still remains here. They are extremely frugal with their resources and have amassed a substantial holding of goods. The library of the school has held intact, and we will begin transporting books back Home. Their supplies are essentially being withheld from them at this point.

Do what you will with the loner. After this trip, he is of no real use to me. I would prefer him dead or moved to an eastern outpost to avoid him informing the town of the proceedings against it.

Professionally,

Haverty

Speechless, he stood holding the validation for his skepticism, everything that Xavier thought was true… was. Not the minor details, but the overall tenacity of the Second Alliance—the proverbial wolf in sheep’s clothing—a false prophet. He could believe their objective was needed. It was. The notion of reuniting people to rebuild the world had its merits. Biologists, pathologists, epidemiologists all put forth studies, scenarios, but then it actually happened, and no one ever laid out the blueprints for putting it all back together. Someone had to right the ship for humanity’s sake. Our species had certainly stumbled, fallen squarely on its face, but it had to get back up. For Xavier, there was no doubting that.

But the means, the tricky part of actually getting to the good. The path taken to the ends was just as important. The Second Alliance understood this. It was demonstrated in their carefulness for gaining submission from those who stood in their way. They would scoff in your face at the accusation of being the bad guy as they killed your loves ones behind you. And then weep and hold you the next day at the funeral.

Their killing of innocents in a manner done to shield the aggressor’s identity forced people to submit or make decisions from deceit. The veil had been drawn over River’s Edge. Most of its inhabitants were ready to live as normal lives as possible, but the Second Alliance wasn’t this pure savior of the region. They were bullies with a vision, and the people deserved to know.

Xavier creased the paper in half and started it toward his pocket, but he felt a pressure on his wrist. “Lemme see it.” Grant picked it from his fingertips and began to pore over the details. As the curtain was gradually pulled, Grant’s face sank with each stunning word.

Xavier’s mind grinded along—bogged down with the enormity of the letter. It was difficult. It seemed any decision was charged with great consequence. Should they tell? Share their newfound truth? It would certainly be met with harsh rebuke if they were found out. Treason and murder. A sentence of death upon the discovery of them distributing the truth about the Second Alliance

The consequences would be difficult to bear. All forms of stability would be shattered. Any semblance of normalcy didn’t stand a chance if they took it out on the school. River’s Edge would be made an example of. But that was only if they were caught.

The possibility of a revolution against the first government since the fall seemed likely. A revolution to strike the giant before it grew beyond the ability to control it. Xavier knew it had to be done—that it was the right thing to do. He patiently waited for Grant to finish the letter.

“Gotta get rid of this.” Grant said, his voice torn apart, dulled from the prospect of what lay in his hands.

“What!” Xavier scowled at him with disbelief. “You can’t mean that.”

“This will end it all,” he muttered lowly to himself, his eyes darting across the print. “I can’t let—”

Xavier snatched the letter from his hand and backpedaled away from Grant and his poor decision. “You can’t be serious.”

“Boy! I can’t…” His expression said it all—a conscience torn in two. Xavier knew that Grant was done fighting, done rebuilding after all the violence. He wanted a routine without those things. It was time for him to be taken care of. The Second Alliance created that sense of life before the virus. Still, it was disgusting the lengths they would go to obtain it. “I can’t go back to fending for ourselves. I need this.”

“Lynn! What about that, huh?”

Grant’s buried his chin into his chest. He knew the hypocrisy of his choice. The anger surrounding Lynn’s murder had caused a man’s death. That point alone would have to be enough to sway him to do right, to stand with Xavier against the Second Alliance, but only silence from his thoughts.

“Don’t do this,” Grant begged. “I know it’s hard, but I’m tellin’ you— Stay with me. We can figure this out.”

“To think, Dad left me with you. You to teach me right from wrong. You just want it easy.” Xavier lifted Simon’s pack onto his shoulders, snatched the rifle from the wheel barrow, and ran into the trickling of rain. “Tell them we got separated,” he yelled over his shoulder.

“Xavier! Don’t do this!”

The creek was filled from the earlier storm that swept through the western hills. A temporary rush of water moved over the rocks and broken branches that lay between the banks. Leaves rustled as Xavier, unable to slow himself on the steepness of the hill, crashed through them, bounding toward the edge. At the last moment before going over, he took hold of a thick wild vine. His feet left the ground briefly, and like a pendulum, swung back, settling on the ridge.

A nervous chuckle. Another soaking was the last thing he needed. That was a close one. Behind him were the skid marks his slipping feet left in the mud. Too close. He set his (Simon’s) pack in the nook of a fallen tree, moss covered and slightly rotted. Pressing down upon it to ensure it could bear his weight—This will work—he sat. The rifle lay across his lap as he stared out into nature.

Along the winding bourn, in the lower portion of the ridge, a large American Sycamore stood with its root bulb partially uncovered from the eroding soil. The thick trunk risen from its seed, grew tall—its brown and gray bark blended toward the naked white limbs toward the top. Its twigs and branches etched their way across the blue sky above him, shedding what bark remained. The sun hung low in the sky and glistened against its exposed skin. Xavier moved just underneath its spiraling magnificence and rested his hand against its base.