Seeker of the Four Winds: A Galatia Novel (33 page)

“We must fast on bread and water for two days
and night. And on the third day, Future Earth will learn to fear
the God of Abraham once again, then and only then, peace will
follow.”

When he stopped speaking, the crowd remained
quiet as his words sunk in. I could see dawning comprehension on
the faces of old and young that they had been duped by a
madman.

“Mayor Wakeland,” I picked out Veronica’s
voice from out of the crowd. “Did I just hear you tell us to give
up our guns?”

“I didn’t tell you to give up your guns,” Red
said. “God did.”

“Hell, no, He didn’t.” Nathan’s crotchety
voice was easy to pick out. His lanky gray-haired form stepped out
to the front of the crowd. “No disrespect, Red, you know I love you
like a son. But have lost your friggin’ mind? In this battle, the
guns are the only things going in our favor. Tell God to keep his
heavenly weapons. I’m holding onto my Uzi.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Red replied.

“I remember when I was a girl,” Veronica
Albright said. “Before the Celeruns came, people were saying guns
were evil and should be destroyed. If those people had gotten their
way, humanity never would have gotten past the Celeruns to make it
to the bunker. Getting rid of them would be very foolish.”

“I ask you, what will happen when the
humanoids figure out how to produce them?” Much to my chagrin, Red
wasn’t backing down. “What will happen to us then, in this world
that hates us? I implore you all to place your faith in a higher
power than metal and gunpowder.”

“Is this where you tell us to beat our
weapons into plow shares?” a man asked sarcastically.

“To everything there is a purpose under
heaven. There’s a time to be born and a time to die, a time to
plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a
time to tear down and a time to build. Today is the time to
recognize the Lord’s authority over Galatia. On the dawn of the
Summer Solstice, the time for war will be upon us, and I am ready
to defend this nation with the last drop of my blood.”

“Hear, hear,” a man called back with a
supportive fist pump.

“Giving up the guns is a test, not a death
sentence. God will not leave us to face our foes empty handed,” Red
continued. “Obey His commands, and I promise you, our tears will be
turned into dancing.”

A murmur went through the crowd. Arguments
were breaking out. People were beginning to push and shove. Sensing
trouble, parents with young children were trying to extricate
themselves from the gathering.

“What’s wrong with all of you—” Simon spoke
up, “Have you forgotten our mayor’s track record for pulling off
the impossible? He saved us from the failing bunker, he sent us
into the future to save us from the toxic gases from the bombed-out
earth, and then he founded a nation where none could be built.
Instead of doubting him, no matter how unlikely it seems, we should
be expecting another miracle.”

A man threw a fist at Simon’s nose. He
blocked it and put his assailant into a headlock. The other man’s
buddies jumped on the doctor’s back. A brawl started before my
eyes. A woman screamed. Men and women were shouting at each other.
Fearful children began to wail. Someone grabbed both of my
shoulders from behind. I jerked my head around to see two of
Barrett’s deputies had wedged me between them.

A hand went to my mouth and I was dragged
away with my heels sliding on the ground. I managed to grab onto
Bryce’s sleeve. He saw what was happening, but he peeled my hand
away, giving me an apologetic look as they forced me through the
doors of the National Building. Four men I vaguely knew, friends of
Barrett and Bryce who used to live in the Fade Brothers settlement,
bound my hands. They forced me out the back of the building. Once
outside again, they skirted me around the alleyways out of the
crowd’s line of sight. I was shoved through the back door of the
police station, which was mostly unoccupied except for the basement
where the warden kept Fundo under lock and key. I was forced at
gunpoint up several flights of stairs and into an interrogation
room. There was a table, brick walls, a cot, a small hearth for
fires, and a window with bars.

“We’re sorry, Michael,” one of the men said.
“You will be released after this blows over.”

I heard the door lock behind me.

I tried the knob. It wouldn’t budge.

A small square window let me peer into
hallway. The men that had imprisoned me still lingered, talking
excitedly amongst themselves. What had just happened? My mind
reeled in confusion.

A commotion started at the end of the
hallway. I heard cussing. Going to the door with the small
diamond-shaped window, I peered through to see a large man on his
back, being dragged down the hall by his arms.

“Simon’s loose!” someone hollered.

Another man flew past the cell door window as
if he had been tossed like a bag of flour.

“Quit fighting us, Dr. Steelsun!” a man
shouted. “Or you’re going to make things worse for yourself. This
is just temporary, but keep it up and the sheriff might change his
mind.”

Oh, crap. I realized this had coup written
all over it. Simon and I had been arrested due to our loyalty to
Red. I suddenly remembered my talk with Bryce back in the Northland
House of Bread, and his incriminating look a few minutes ago back
on the landing. Barrett and Bryce must have been planning this a
while now. Red’s proposal to get rid of the guns had given them the
opening to overthrow him.

My mind went back to a recent conversation I
had with Red, concerning Bryce’s comments against him, and how he
had been playing around with magic.

“
Every leader has his detractors,” Red had
replied at the time. “President Abraham Lincoln’s critics called
him a scoundrel, ugly, a land pirate, a widow-maker and worse, so
I’ll count myself in good company. As for the magic, when men like
Simon, Father Bob and Professor Daynor say that it is a real force
in the world, I’m inclined to take it seriously.”

“
After seeing Bryce’s eerie demonstration,
I’m glad to hear you say that. When I mentioned it to Barrett, he
said I was overreacting. Said it wasn’t to be feared, because in
the right hands it could be very useful.”

“
When the situation with the Alliance
calms down, I will talk to Bryce and Barrett about it,” Red had
said. “So don’t you worry, brother, everything will be
okay.”

At the time, I wanted to believe everything
was okay, so I had let the matter drop.

Big mistake.

Now it was brother against brother.

The men in the hallway finally got Simon
under control. His balding head paused in front of my door. His lip
was bleeding. One eye was already swollen shut. He looked surprised
to see me through the window, caught in the same helpless situation
as himself. He was rudely shoved along before we could speak. In a
way, it felt reassuring to know that I wasn’t alone in this
predicament, but I was angry to see Father Bob led past my cell in
cuffs as well. The priest was in his eighties and no threat to
anyone.

They had also apprehended Professor Daynor—no
surprise there—but I was more than surprised to see Veronica among
the prisoners. She had never hidden her annoyance with Red and was
quick to criticize his leadership style.
A government should be
guided by logic, reason and compassion—not by some alleged higher
deity that chooses to communicate its will with only a chosen
few.
That was her motto. Come to think of it, she had never
cared for Barrett much either. The guards stopped her right in
front of my door. Her brow arched when she saw me peering through
its barred window.

She said something to the guards. I couldn’t
make out the words, but it earned her a sock in the jaw that caused
her to stumble against my door. One of the guards yanked her
upright by an arm. The shocked look on her face must have mirrored
my own. I was angry enough about their treatment of Simon. Seeing
them treat a woman that way turned it to outrage.

I called upon my charisma and tried to break
down the door with my shoulder. Unfortunately, that Bulwark hadn’t
been lying when he said the hinges and doors would hold up to the
force of twenty men, which is what we needed for a jail designed to
hold Galatians. As Veronica was led away, I heard her shouting call
the jailers the
‘fucking Gestapo’.

At least she hadn’t lost her fighting
spirit.

Feeling abysmally helpless, I went over to my
window overlooking the cobblestone street. Gripping the bars on the
window, I called upon the charisma strength to bend the bars.
Straining until my shirt was wet with sweat, I gave up in a flurry
of swearing.

The crowd was still out there, facing the
National Building, which was across the street from me now. The
mayor and the sheriff had just finished debating. I had missed what
they had said and now Feenie was taking the platform. Dressed more
conservatively than usual—blue jeans and a tight pink T-shirt—I
noted that she still wore the headpiece with the teardrop jewel on
her forehead.

Cupping a hand to her mouth, she shouted to
the crowd, “I say we keep the guns and get rid of Mayor
Wakeland!”

Shouts of agreement came from the crowd.

“The mayor has proven himself to be an unfit
leader at a time when Galatia has never needed a hero so badly. Who
can possibly fill the gaping hole? What Galatia needs is a man of
action. Someone who understands this world and how to survive it.
Need I remind, whereas Red has failed, who has picked up the
pieces? My husband, Barrett Fade. When the first wave of Galatians
arrived on Future Earth, who gave them shelter? Barrett Fade with
his charisma. Who came to the aid of the second wave of Galatians
when they were being massacred by Slivens? Barrett Fade. He has
dealt with the Alliance for eleven years without ever incurring
their wrath. Red has been here less than two and thanks to a
thousand armies are parked at our doorstep preparing to kill us.
But whose wall will stop them? Barrett Fade’s. And who will let us
keep our guns? Barrett Fade!” She lifted her husband’s arm into the
air. “And who will save us from our enemies? Not Red, that’s for
sure. Today, I do not speak to you as a wife, but as a patriot of
Galatia. May I present Galatia’s proper leader, Barrett Fade!”

“Barrett Fade!” the crowd shouted. “Barrett
Fade! Barrett Fade!”

My stomach roiled with dread as Feenie
motioned to a group of burly men on the landing. They ushered Red
away, as Feenie placed a crown, a museum piece from my collection,
on Barrett’s head.

“Long live King Barrett!” pockets of the
crowd responded, while others shrank away in uncomfortable
disagreement.

The world seemed to spin.

I thought of my wife and children. And of
Red’s. Would Barrett and Feenie turn on them next?

Sinking down onto my cot, I held my head in
my hands.

(Isaiah Wakeland)

Twilight streaked the skies in hues of
indigo and violet as Isaiah Wakeland walked through Zena City with
a heavy heart, but this time it had nothing to do with his Belle.
No, his dad was in jail, along with Uncle Mike, Veronica and Father
Bob. Grandma Elizabeth was still in a coma.

Pulling up the hood of his jacket against the
biting wind, he walked through the front doors of Hopewell
Hospital. Signing in at the front desk was protocol, but nobody was
manning it.

“Hello?” he called, peering over the
desk.

With a shrug, he moved on.

Hopewell was the only building in Galatia,
probably the world at this moment, to have round-the-clock
electricity. Being here, surrounded by white tiling, reminded him
of Galatians Bunker where life used to make sense. If it wasn’t for
the place being for sick people, it would be a great place to hang
out. His father had been bugging him to find a purpose in life
beyond playing the drums in
Phoenix Rising,
the rock band he
had put together with some old high school chums.

“
You’re a man now,” his father had
lectured. “It’s time to quit going with the flow and forge your own
path.

“
When you were dating Lisa, you wanted to
be a scientist, because she was attracted to intelligent guys,
his father had pointed out. When you were dating India, you
wanted to be a fireman, because she thought they were brave. And
it’s been the same with every woman, even Belle, who was the best
girl in the lot, but you screwed up your chances with that
one.”

“
Hey,” Isaiah reminded his father, “she
was the one cheating on me.”

“
Wasn’t she paying you back for cheating
on her?”

Isaiah’s jaw dropped. He didn’t realize
anyone knew about that except for Belle and that little twerp,
Luke. His father had ways of finding out things, so Isaiah
shouldn’t have been surprised.

“
I loved that girl with all of my heart,”
Isaiah replied, casting down his eyes to the ground.
“I don’t know why I did it—it’s just that Jill looked so good, and
was telling the funniest jokes, I was really enjoying her company.
I swear, cheating on Belle was the furthest thing from my mind at
the time, but one thing led to another...you know it goes.”

“
You need to learn to control your
appetite, son.”

“
What does food have to do with
this?”

His father’s smile reached all the way up to
the star-shaped birthmark at the corner of his left eye. He placed
a supportive hand on Isaiah’s shoulder. “I’m talking about sexual
appetite, son. Now, imagine your body as a car, and your will as
its driver. When it comes to women, you’re letting the car tell the
driver where to go, when it’s the driver that should be controlling
the car. An honorable man does what he knows is right, rather than
what feels good at the time.