Crossing Bedlam (30 page)

“I want to know who put this on my friend, Mr. Allred,” Cassidy demands before anyone can speak. She holds up the sticker and scans faces for any sign of guilt, but everyone remains calm. “A mob attacked him over this and he ended up killing a preacher in self-defense. Now Judge Mason is going to execute him. So I want who did this to come forward and help me clear his name. If not that then help me free him from jail.”

“You are very rude,” Henry states while using a rag to polish his beehive pin. The man remains quite while the exile is escorted out of the building and told to never return. “That woman causes a ruckus every day and thinks she is helping us. We will not win back our lands through open defiance and violence. So we refuse to help you. I will tell you that such an evil decal is not from us. We prefer to sneak our pins onto people and make others believe that our numbers are bigger than they really are.”

“What?” the blonde blurts out, her mind struggling to make sense of what the rebellion leader has said. The headache that has been brewing behind her eyes blares for a few seconds, stopping when she takes a small drink from her canteen. “All I got from that is the sticker isn’t part of your operation, but you do something similar. Also that you won’t do anything out in the open or use violence. Yet I see everyone here has a gun, which means you’re at least prepared for a fight. Why make the Christians think you have a large army if you aren’t going to do anything that would require a large amount of people?”

“The invaders will surrender when they feel outnumbered,” the Mormon leader replies as if the answer is obvious. Pulling his own sniper rifle out from behind the chair, he goes about cleaning the weapon and proving that he knows what he is doing. “Only a savage uses violence while a civilized man wins through subterfuge. These people may have stolen our land, but they are not all evil. Sure, the other rebel groups around the state have decided to use more primitive means and create a body count. Yet Salt Lake City is where the real victory will come from. I prefer to do so without bloodshed. As for why my people and I have guns, it is in case we are attacked or need to hunt for food.”

Cassidy processes what she has heard and tries to think of a way to get these people to help her save Lloyd. None of the rebels hesitated to aim their weapons at her, so she wonders how serious they are about not killing. The exile even told her about the high profile preachers that have been murdered over the years. Cassidy considers that Henry’s definition of self-defense might not be the same one she is used to. Meeting his gaze, she can see the spark of a killer mixed with the warmth of a man who feels he is doing what is right. It is something she remembers seeing on the faces of mercenaries and bounty hunters before the lifestyle hardened their hearts and minds. A shuddering breath rocks her body when she remembers seeing the expression on her mother’s face.

Cassidy scratches her head and takes another look at the devil sticker, which she is sure holds the key to Lloyd’s freedom. For some reason, she finds herself sniffing it again and there is a faint smell that she struggles to identify. Realizing that she is keeping the Mormons waiting, she puts the decal back in her pocket. The odor lingers in her nose and she begins thinking about how this mess could have been avoided if the jeep had not been damaged again. Like a bolt of lightning, Cassidy realizes what the smell is and cracks her knuckles. As if energized by the new information, her mind races with a plan that will make a scene and give her a sense of sweet revenge.

“I guess I owe you an apology for jumping to the wrong conclusion. So I’m sorry for mistaking you for my enemy and barging into your home,” Cassidy says, flashing her best smile to put the locals at ease. Reaching into her pea coat’s pocket, she places a bag of dried fruit on the floor and steps away. “Consider this small amount of food a peace offering. It isn’t much, but I hope it makes us even and clears any bad blood between us. By the way, I should probably mention that my friend is Lloyd Tenay. I’m sure some people here remember hearing about him before the collapse.”

“Then we are less inclined to help you,” Henry states while getting off his chair. He picks up the dried fruit and hands it to an elderly woman who brings it to a group of children. “He is a demon that should be destroyed for his crimes. If you are protecting a murderer then it brings your own soul into question. Perhaps the harshness of the outside world has destroyed your moral compass and you have done whatever you can to survive. I hope your parents are not around to see the company that you keep.”

“My mom was killed and Lloyd is helping me travel to fulfill her dying wish,” the young woman replies, hoping to score some sympathy from the Mormon leader. She scowls at not being able to see through his smile, which she knows is nowhere near as sincere as it seems. “I’d try to preach about giving people a second chance and how this new world has changed everyone. Life isn’t as black and white as it used to be. Monsters can be heroes in a world of madness and all that other stuff that I wrote down on the way here. Figured grandstanding speeches was the only way people listened to you around here. Instead of all that, I want to tell you what Judge Mason has planned for Lloyd and how it relates to your rebellion.”

Henry takes out a comb to fix his hair, which looks the same as it did when Cassidy first arrived. “If you want me to believe that Mason will connect this killer to my group then you need to think of a better lie. Nobody will believe that because he is an outsider. I doubt any of our symbols were found on his personage. The devil sticker is a problem for your story too. It means he is seen as a Satanist and not a Mormon, but some uneducated people do believe the groups are one and the same. Perhaps it is best for you to save your breath and find another organization to help you.”

“Not a deep thinker, are you?” Cassidy asks, patting the man on the cheek. She tucks her hands in her pockets and taps her foot, giving the illusion of being impatient. “All of this is about power and influence. The average person follows the Christian church because that is the organization that will keep them safe during in our new world. Sure, they talk about salvation and the afterlife, but it’s really about finding a haven from the chaos. Imagine what would happen if your enemies eliminate a monster like Lloyd. It will make it much harder to remove them from your territory.”

Stepping away from the outsider, Henry uses a handkerchief to wipe away the sensation of her touch. Cassidy scans the other faces and is disappointed to see that none of them are interested in helping. Every mouth is a stoic line and the blank expression reminds her of how she would stare into the distance during a boring conversation. A chuckle slips out when she realizes that it has been a long time since she has had one of those thanks to Lloyd’s insane ramblings. The idea of traveling alone and in utter silence holds no appeal to the blonde, so she opens her mouth to continue spouting whatever comes to her mind. She is cut off by Henry letting the iron rod in his hand slide to the stone floor with an echoing thud.

“It is obvious that you don’t understand this place,” the rebel leader says, returning to his chair and nodding to a pair of guards. The man and woman flank Cassidy, each one taking an arm in preparation for the ejection order. “Those who flocked to Utah for the Theist War aren’t your average followers. Most of them are devout fanatics who will not be moved from believing they are the only path. I’m sure our neighboring corner states are the same, but they are not our concern. We only care about those who stole our land and claimed it was their right by birth. So, your belief that the execution of Lloyd Tenay will strengthen our enemies is wrong. It will be like putting a drop of water into the ocean. Why are you giggling?”

“Sorry. The thought of karma came to mind when you were going on about land stealing and birthrights.”

“I believe we are finished here.”

“Just one more thing!”

Henry sighs and waves for the guards to start dragging Cassidy away. They do not get very far before the blonde slips out of their grasp and smacks them upside the head. She dodges their attempts to capture here, countering only with harmless pokes and finger flicks. Enjoying her little game, she bravely tweaks their noses and pinches legs as she constantly ducks and spins around them. Within a few minutes, she has the two guards so dizzy that they crash into each other. Wiping her hands on her pants, Cassidy heads for the exit under her own power.

“There’s something else to keep in mind, Mr. Allred,” she announces while waving over her shoulder. “If you really want to win without violence then you need to find another way to make an impact. Hiding in the shadows and creating illusions are good, but eventually you need to show that you’re abilities go beyond pulling pranks and being a nuisance. As my mom once said, horses don’t get annoyed with flies until they get bitten. Now if you excuse me, I have a trial to make a mockery of. Maybe you should watch and learn how to really do a rebellion.”

Hoping that she made some sense, Cassidy leaves the temple and confidently strides down the block. When she is sure that nobody is following her, the blonde takes a seat on a bench and lets her anxiety show. With the sun starting to sink behind the buildings, she prays seriously for the first time in her adult life that she can think on her feet and save Lloyd. For a brief moment, Cassidy thinks she hears someone whispering to her about friendship. The voice gets louder and she glances over her shoulder at a homeless man talking to his pet raccoon. Not wanting to get rabies from the hissing creature or catch whatever the coughing man is carrying, she leaves the rest of her food on the bench and heads down the street.

“Think you can give me a sign for being a nice person in need?” she asks the sky, receiving only a rumble of thunder. One by one, the electric crosses on the buildings and lampposts sputter to life and fill the street with an eerie glow. “Well fuck you too.”

*****

Even having never been in a courtroom before, Cassidy is sure trials are not supposed to be breaks for prayers and hymns. One or the other occurs between witnesses, who have been appearing on the stand for the last hour. The surreal scene reminds the young woman of the few times her parents took her to mass as a child and she lacks the curiosity of youth to retain her attention. Sitting behind Lloyd, who is sprawled on four chairs, Cassidy examines the stained glass windows for what feels like the hundredth time. At first they were as beautiful as the marble statue of Lady Justice that stands in the corner, but now they are nothing more than eyesores that block most of the sunlight. Above a baptismal fountain, a replica of Jesus on the cross is dangling and the wooden face always seems to be staring at whoever dares to glance at the ceiling.

The audience stands to recite a prayer under the guidance of Judge Mason, the stern Magistrate’s voice booming over the crowd. Cassidy ignores the glare from the man and goes back to tapping out her favorite songs with her toes. She reaches over to poke Lloyd in the chest, waking the man up for what could be his own funeral. One of the guards walks over to shove her arm back over the barrier and roughly sits the killer up. A few children laugh when Lloyd lies back down and Cassidy defiantly sticks the tip of her pinky over the barrier. By the time the praying stops and everyone sits down, the travelers have raised their spirits and are ready to go back to hearing another witness repeat the same tired story.

“Maybe they plan on executing me through boredom,” Lloyd whispers, causing the Magistrate to use his gavel. The killer claps his hands and gives the man two thumbs up that he wiggles back and forth. “Sorry. Go back to whatever this thing is. Most bizarre trial I’ve ever been to. It’s like you desperately want to let us know that church and state aren’t separated. Hey, can you get Jesus to stop staring at me?”

“Do you fail to understand the severity of your crimes?” Judge Mason asks. He holds up his hand to stop the bailiff from getting the next witness and leans over the edge of the stand. “From the beginning, you have been very glib about the situation. Need I remind you that you took a human life? A holy and humble one at that. Father Ken was beloved and respected among his peers.”

Stretching his arms and legs, Lloyd sits up and neatly folds his hands on the table. “I’m well aware of what I did. In fact, I remember the face and voice of every person I’ve killed in my lifetime. At least those that I got to interact with outside of a vehicle. You’d be surprised how many car battles I’ve had since getting out of Rikers. Honestly, I started wondering if I’d have to shave my head and start talking like my jaw is wired shut. Come to think of it, how in the world did we fit so many weapons into our jeep and move around it? For some reason, that doesn’t seem right.”

“The accused continues to show no remorse,” the Magistrate states to the crowd as if trying to win them over. He bangs his gavel to stop the eruption of conversation, which reminds them of his demand for silence. “It should not surprise me that a man like you exists. Yet, contrary to your belief, I have stepped outside my territory. All Magistrates witness the horrors of the new world in order to cherish that which has been created here. You are truly a king among the fallen souls of our country, Mr. Tenay.”

“Awww, does that mean you’re going to let me go?”

“Executing you would be a step toward curing the world of man.”

“Is that a no?”

“Bring up the next witness.”

Still wearing her oil-stained apron and thick gloves, Cami humbly follows the bailiff to the stand. The mechanic is visibly nervous and twitchy, especially when she looks up to see Cassidy impishly smirking at her. With a faint sigh, the relaxed blonde leans back and crosses her arms, the devil sticker poking out from between her knuckles. As she was hoping, the spikey-haired woman avoids looking in her direction and focuses on putting her hand on the Bible. Cami swears on the holy book without hesitation, which brings another smile to Cassidy’s face. She pats Lloyd on the shoulder with her foot and nods her head when he turns around. The killer returns the gesture even though he seems very confused about the mechanic’s presence.