A War of Lions and Lambs

By Roger Jackson

Five years after the worst plague in human history, Jacob Trimble is still the leader of the Cumberland Community in La Follette Tennessee. The people under his care have done well, but Jacob has been in a dark place since the death of Melody Barstow at the hands of Casey Johnston, the boy known as the Marauder.

After that, he became withdrawn and controlling. He is unwilling to share control of the community's destiny, to share all the information he possesses with the community's council -- to share his life and love. Although Jacob believes he has come to fear nothing anymore, he soon learns that is not true. Fear returns with attacks on the community, this time from an unknown enemy.

Unusual events plague the peace that had settled over La Follette after the last challenge: a mysterious death, a fire in an unoccupied house, sabotaged electrical lines. When a woman is raped by an unknown assailant, Jacob takes actions that put him on a path that will decide the fate of the people under his care; a path that may lead to war.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roger Jackson
• Release date: May 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463346198

Roger Jackson

My first taste of reading came in the 6th grade with the wonderful world of Scholastic Books. Even in a little farming community (population just over 1000), I could look through the two or three page catalog of books that were age appropriate – and dream. Then I had to ask my parents for the money to give to the teacher so she could place the order for my and my classmate’s choice of books. Seeing the box from Scholastic sitting on the teacher’s desk was as thrilling as Christmas. I knew there were books in that box just for me. I sat on the edge of my seat, waiting for the teacher to pull out that special bundle and call my name.I grew up on an Arkansas delta cotton farm. We worked hard and played hard. We could roam the fields, imagining we were somewhere else – anywhere else. But I wouldn’t have wanted to grow up anywhere else. The sky was so dark at night I could see all the stars unimpeded. The air was clean. The summers were hot, but the water pumped straight of the ground was cold. The winters were cold, but a gas wall heater kept the house toasty.I liked farming and I developed a love of nature and for growing things from it. I was the first of my family to go to college and I earned a degree in Computer Science. Computer programming is my paying job, but being with my family and writing are my true passions.I began writing in my teens, but I didn’t sell anything in the national market. I did get recognition from my university and I co-wrote and produced a small Star Trek spoof film. As a result, I was privileged to meet Gene Roddenberry. I married a wonderful woman and raised two great daughters before returning to my love of writing.I am pleased with the advent of electronic publishing. It gives more people a way of releasing his or her voice. My first e-publishing endeavors are a science fiction short story Currents of Thunder and my debut novel, A Shade of Mind.

Book preview

Chapter 1

It has been six years and one day since the end of the world. I have not picked up this journal since the death of Melody Barstow – murdered by Casey Johnston – except for the arrival of the emissaries from the Western Alliance. That needed to be recorded. It was an important event in the life of the community – and for me.

Recording history didn’t seem so important after Melody died. I no longer cared what people thought of me or my actions. I did what was necessary; good or bad, right or wrong. I regretted nothing.

Our S&R teams had covered New England, a small portion of southeastern Canada, and all of Louisiana (except for New Orleans). I was in control of everything east of the Mississippi River, plus the states just to the west of that: from Louisiana through Wisconsin. Our population had reached one thousand six hundred thirty-four.

That’s what I said; I was in control. No one has challenged me as leader of the community since the defeat of the World Overlords, or the WOL as we called them, and Casey Johnston, or the Marauder as he called himself. I admit, I didn’t give anyone the opportunity. I made sure I knew everything that was happening. I dealt with situations the moment they arose. I identified troublemakers and dealt with them before they could do any harm.

I guess that makes me sound like a tyrant, or a bully, but I wasn’t. I treated everyone fairly, but I didn’t let them stray too far from the flock. The community was stable, but it wasn’t going to stay that way if I didn’t keep tight control of things. I was on top of the mountain and no one was tough enough to knock me off it. I may be small, but, like my friend Grayson had once said, I am a rock; difficult to move.

The Louisiana Bayou and Hilton Head colonies were still around. We discovered another community of fifty or so people in Gloucester, Massachusetts. (They pronounce it Glawster.) Half of them were descendants of fisherman from all over New England. They had a small fleet of fishing boats. Those communities supplied things we wanted – but they needed us. Without us, they would not have done so well. I put them under our protection. They belonged to us. I didn’t tell them that, of course, but that’s the way it was.

The Western Alliance covered the rest of the country, except for California, Oregon, and Washington. The separate gangs that occupied the west coast joined forces. They consolidated in California as one gang and became a legitimate threat. The Alliance was busy keeping them bottled up.

Roxanne Darby stayed here. She was impressed with the success of our community. The Alliance may have more military strength, but the Cumberland Community was a power to be reckoned with. She saw that. Maybe she stayed for me too.

The same people were still on the council that ruled the community. We held an election, our first for council members. Most people were happy with the job they were doing, so all of them were re-elected. I was good with that.

Not that everyone on the council got along, or agreed with me. I had my allies, but there were those that kept me honest. Karen was once on my side, but she knew what I was capable of doing. She led a small coalition that was large enough to veto me if she didn’t like what I wanted to do.

Oz was one of my biggest political rivals. He was even more diligent about upholding the law after the election. We had several discussions about it, especially regarding the actions I took to stop the WOL.

What is right and wrong, Oz? I asked him one day.

I don’t know, he said. All we can do is to agree on what we believe to be right and wrong, and follow the laws we create in order to ensure that we do right.

But sometimes we have to do things that are wrong in order to do the right thing, I said.

Oz frowned. I don’t believe that. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. once said, ‘The time is always right to do the right thing.’

I thought about that a lot. Maybe Dr. King was right. Maybe if the results are good, then whatever we do is the right thing. Does that mean that the ends justify the means?

At least, that’s what I kept telling myself as justification for what I did to the WOL. It made it easier to accept. I protected the community by killing Casey Johnston, and I would do it again if necessary.

What came after that – well – I can use the same justification. I did what I did to protect the people under my care. It wasn’t quite the same thing, but, to me, that doesn’t matter. I accept full responsibility for it.

Maybe history will still be kind to me in spite of that. Whether it does or not, I will write honestly about it. I am not afraid of judgment, not then or now. At the time, I felt there was no person alive qualified to judge me. Now, well…

My name is Jacob Trimble. I am the leader of the Cumberland Community and its territories.

*** *** ***

I control life and death, the voice says.

The wind whispers through the leaves and the grass, but the words come from the earth beneath my feet. They are spoken by the dead.

You don’t control a damn thing anymore, I mumble under my breath.

I still control you, Jacob. You can’t get rid of me that easily.

The words are only in my mind, but the voice is as plain as it was three years ago. Casey Johnston lies in his grave, but the Marauder lives on in my head. No one has had as much impact on my life as the boy I killed.

I let everyone believe I was acting in the best interest of the community, but the truth was, I wanted revenge for the murder of Melody Barstow. It was only a technicality that the Marauder was already dead when I shot him as he lay at my feet.

Karen kept me sane through it all. Mike and Blake didn’t leave my side for weeks. Oz took care of the community’s needs while I recuperated.

I took control back from them after that, and I haven’t let go of it since.

I take a deep breath and look around the Vasper Cemetery where Casey and the rest of the WOL are buried. The grounds are overgrown and unkempt. There are no groundskeepers. No one from the community visits this place; no one but me – and ghosts.

Karen was right. It’s difficult for me to let go of the people I feel strongly about. Even now, over five years after the end of the world, I still feel Marci take her last breath as I held her in my arms. I have visions of Melody sitting in the truck, staring at me with her sad eyes as I abandoned her on that lonely stretch of highway. I see the blood seeping out of Casey’s mouth.

The word lonely seems appropriate as I scan the cemetery. It’s a desolate place. This is where I wanted the Marauder buried, not anywhere near La Follette. I wanted no one to remember him, to think about him at all. I don’t want to remember him either – but he won’t let me forget.

Casey’s ghost is the only one that speaks to me now. For a while, I thought I had exercised all my demons. The voices in my head were silent. The burden of their deaths was lifted.

Then Casey showed up one day, and he hasn’t left me alone since. I come out here on the anniversary of Melody’s death. It’s the only day people leave me alone. They know I still mourn her and that I visit her grave on this day, but they don’t know I come out here.

I shouldn’t come here. Karen would call it an unhealthy obsession, but the nightmares subside a little after I do. It’s not like I have any feelings for the guy. Well, that’s not true. I hated him. I still do. I had never truly felt hatred until the day Casey murdered Melody. Then it consumed me. It motivated me. It made who I am today.

And who is that, Jacob?

I’m the one who killed you, I say to Casey’s voice.

I turn and walk away. I’m not going to give the ghost an opportunity to respond.

I push my hands deeper into my jacket pockets. It’s cold even though it is the middle of April. There is a stiff breeze that adds to the chill. A gust of wind tickles the back of my neck, like a shadowy hand trying to wrap around my throat. My skin crawls, but I don’t look back.

I increase my pace to a fast walk, just shy of trotting. When I get in the truck, I close my eyes and take another deep breath, trying to bring my heart rate back to normal. This is stupid. No one is out here. There are no ghosts, no monsters hiding in the shadows. Hell, there aren’t even any shadows. It’s the middle of the morning!

I start the truck and jerk the gear lever down into drive. I hit the gas and speed away, throwing dirt and gravel with my spinning tires. I need to stop wasting time. I’ll visit Melody’s grave and then get back to work.

I don’t stop until I reach the community cemetery in La Follette. I pay no attention to the majority of the headstones that are here. These were the former residents; the ones before the plague. I only look at the graves of the ones who have been buried since the end of the world; after the plague.

I glance at those names: Rickey, Vance, Tonya, Cory, Danny, Shakeill, Nicolas. Nick was the most recent, just a couple of weeks ago. His death is still a mystery. Trey said his heart stopped, but he didn’t know why. I don’t like mysteries, but no one could find anything out of the ordinary.

I stop in front of Melody’s grave. It is the only one in the cemetery that is decorated the way it is. I had stones placed in an oval around her with a stone cross inside of it, from one edge to the other. Flowers were planted to fill in the four empty spaces within the oval. I’m not the only one to visit. Several others help with the maintenance, and place flowers. There are no weeds, no droopy leaves from too little water, no bare spots. Everyone remembers her, my lost love.

I place a small bouquet of wild flowers at the foot of Melody’s grave. They look kind of pitiful next to the other plants, but it is the best I can do. I think she would appreciate anything I brought her. That’s just the way she was.

I put my hands back in my jacket pockets and look across the graveyard. It’s nothing like Vasper. The lawn is mowed and manicured. The daffodils are blooming. The adjacent church is unused, but it is still intact and beautiful with its stained glass windows and weathered copper roof.

I look past the entrance, thinking about the people who made it through the plague and found their way to La Follette. We are all the same. We lost everything: family, friends, everyone we knew. We lost our way of life.

But we survived, and became stronger. We created a new life.

Then we learned that we didn’t lose all of our family. A young Western Alliance soldier, Matthew Templeton, from New Mexico showed up on our doorstep. The sudden appearance of Karen’s nephew changed our perspective. It brought excitement and a sense of hope back to the community; but not as much as the recent announcement that Cal and Karen were expecting a baby. Other people have had babies, but this is different. Their wedding was popular among the people; like they were royalty. This is like the birth announcement of a prince.

Mike and Jessie got married just last week. They’re still away on their honeymoon at the colony in Hilton Head. Mike finally got to see the ocean like he had mentioned when we first met. They asked me to do the ceremony. That was hard; harder than Blake’s and Abby’s wedding. I felt like I was giving up my best friend, even though I knew that wasn’t true. Mike will always be there for me. His loyalty is undeniable, but now I can’t help but wonder if he will ever face the choice of protecting his wife or me. What choice would he make? I don’t want to put that to the test.

Blake is out of town also. He’s been busy establishing airports around the country so we can fly wherever we want and have fuel waiting for us. He took Abby with him. It’s funny; she will fly with him everywhere he goes, except in the little red airplane he piloted on his first flight. She’s convinced he’s going to die in that plane. Abby told me and Venus about her premonition, but made us promise to not tell Blake. I have no idea if she has told him or not. If so, he doesn’t mention it.

I guess that’s why I feel so lonely today. Most of my friends are away or doing other things. Trey is always studying medicine, and teaching it to others. He’s become a good doctor. He removed a girl’s appendix without a problem. She was good to go in only a couple of days. Zeke is probably out hunting or fishing. Karen, Cal, and Hannah are busy with school.

I sigh. I’m just being pitiful.

I bend down and pick out some stray dead leaves from the flowers covering Melody’s grave. I stare at her name on the headstone. I lay a small ceramic bluebird at its base. She liked birds.

I walk away, more sad and lonely than ever, but I put away all thoughts of the past as I leave the graveyard. I have no more time for grief today. Maybe people will continue to leave me alone so that I can get some work done.

That doesn’t happen, though. Hannah is waiting for me when I get home.

I thought you would be at school, I say.

I should be, but this can’t wait.

I don’t like the sound of that. Come on in.

Hannah gets right to the point. A student brought a snake to school.

Okay, I say, not sure what else to say. Sounds like a pretty good prank. What does that have to do with me? That falls under your jurisdiction.

I was going to bring this up at the next council meeting, but I believe now that it can’t wait. Hannah pauses, like she’s gauging her words. There is a small group of snake handlers in the community.

What do you mean? I ask. Like snake charmers?

Not exactly, she says. Snake handlers, as in a religious cult.

I had heard of that BP. On the news before the plague happened, there was a guy from some church that died from a snake bite because he wouldn’t go to the hospital. I thought he was stupid.

Don’t they believe that God won’t let snakes bite them? I ask.

No, they believe that if God wants them to live, then He will not let them die if a snake does bite, Hannah says. She looks as disgusted as I feel. He will protect them because they are His true believers. They base their beliefs on the scripture in Mark.

I wait for her to tell me what that says, but she doesn’t.

I don’t know that scripture, I say with enough irritation in my voice to make Hannah look apologetic – or maybe look sorry for me, I’m not sure which.

It says, ‘They will pick up snakes with their hands; and when they drink deadly poison, it will not hurt them at all.’ Mark 16:18, she says, to make sure I know where to find it so I can check her references. Of course, they take it totally out of context.

And the context is?

God doesn’t command us to pick up snakes, she says. It means that He will be with us no matter what kind of tribulations we face if we truly have faith. It doesn’t mean that He will protect our physical lives. Jesus says…

I get the point, I interrupt. I’m in no mood for a sermon. Not that I’m ever in the mood for one. And the snake the kid brought to school was one they use? What kind is it?

A timber rattlesnake.

Now, I’m not afraid of snakes. I always thought they were cool, but a timber rattler? Even I know how dangerous they are.

I’ll put a stop to this right now, I say.

They will claim religious freedom.

I start to say that I don’t care, but I remember who I’m talking to. It’s a big deal to Hannah.

Do you think this falls under religious freedom?

Hannah’s eyes turn away as she considers her answer. She knows how I feel about religion, free or otherwise. It is the one thing that I can’t take control of, and I don’t like it.

Before she can answer, I say, Anyone can claim anything they do is in the name of religion.

You’re right, they can, she says, but we decided at council that the definition of religion encompasses those things that praise God. However, religion cannot impinge on the rights of others or their safety. In this way, I believe these people have crossed the line.

So, what’s the problem with me shutting them down?

I don’t know. I don’t want our government to dictate what we can and cannot do in our service to God. I feel very strongly about that, but I agree there have to be boundaries. I will support the proposition that this does not constitute a religious practice if it is brought to the council.

I am about to assure her that I will bring it up at the next meeting when there is a knock on the door. Hannah starts to get up to leave, but I motion for her to stay. I go to the door and open it. Tomas walks in before I can say anything. Billy is with him, but he stays at the door, looking embarrassed.

Billy, what can I do for you? I ask.

Uh, I’m sorry, Jacob, he stutters. You’re busy. We can come back.

That’s fine, I say. Hannah and I were just finishing.

Tomas stands in the middle of the room without moving. Then he looks up and stares right at me. His dark eyes drill through me, right into my soul. It creeps me out when he does that.

Tomas, uh, said he needed to tell you something, Billy says.

I wait for Tomas to speak his mind, but he doesn’t. He just keeps staring at me, unblinking. It unnerves me.

What is it, Tomas? I ask.

Then the boy speaks, and what he says turns my heart cold.

You will murder.

Chapter 2

Murder: no one had accused me of that. In fact, everyone avoided the subject, at least, when I was around. No one said what I did to the Marauder was murder – not to my face.

And Tomas didn’t mention Casey. He said, you will murder. Not, you have murdered. You will.

*** *** ***

I am so sorry, Jacob, Billy says. "I had no idea he was going to say that."

I don’t respond. Tomas’ eyes won’t let me move. They have captured me like a fly in a spider’s web, and will not let go.

You will murder, the words echo in my head, but it’s not Tomas’ voice.

What do you mean, Tomas? I ask, barely above a whisper.

You will, he says. I know you will.

Then he blinks, and he’s Tomas again; expressionless, calm – unjudging. That’s what he was doing when he had me pinned against the wall with those eyes. He was passing judgment. It was unmistakable. Billy takes Tomas by the arm and pulls him toward the door.

I’m really sorry, Billy mumbles.

Wait, I say.

Billy stops, so Tomas does too. I put my hand underneath Tomas’s chin and gently pull his head up so I can look into his eyes again. There is nothing unusual there. He averts his gaze away from me.

It’s okay, I say, more to reassure Tomas than Billy. I understand. This is not a problem. You can go back to what you were doing, Tomas.

Billy keeps muttering apologies as they leave. I close the door behind them and sit on the couch. I stare straight ahead, my mind a blank.

A prophecy?

I look to my right. Hannah is still here.

What did you say? I ask.

Prophecy, she says. I was wondering if you consider what Tomas said is a prophecy.

You know how I feel about stuff like that.

Yes, but you also know that Tomas has always been right when he speaks like this.

She’s right. Tomas’ visions, or whatever they are, have been accurate so far. He predicted the large cities would become unsafe with deterioration and disease, and they have. Windows are broken in almost every building, allowing water and dirt in. Water has collected into ponds in lower areas, making them breeding grounds for mosquitoes and flies. Mold is everywhere. He also knew the dam would work again one day and there would be electricity for the entire city.

You will murder, Casey’s voice whispers in my mind again.

I shake my head to clear it. Maybe, but that doesn’t make him a prophet; just observant.

What has he observed in you? Hannah asks.

I don’t like the question. It sounds like an accusation. I’ve had enough of those already.

He sees the leader of the community, I say. My voice contains more anger than I intend. He sees someone who will do whatever it takes to protect the community.

Hannah says nothing for several moments. Then she gets up and walks to the door.

I understand you’re the leader, she says as she pauses at the door. Do you think you need to constantly remind me, or do you need to remind yourself?

That’s definitely an accusation, but I don’t say anything. I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut at times like this.

*** *** ***

I call a council meeting as soon as everyone gets back to town. I wanted to discuss the snake people sooner than this, but I knew I would need all my allies to back me up.

I heard of a snake handler’s church up here BP, Zeke says. A couple of guys came across it about a year ago and decided it was a cool idea.

I’ve spoken with them, Hannah says. It’s more than a cool idea. There are seven adults and two children. They are all from Eastern Kentucky and West Virginia.

Mountain people, Zeke mumbles.

Yes, I suppose so, Hannah says, her irritation obvious with the interruption. The point is, they grew up with similar beliefs and they are serious about them.

The only good snake is a dead snake, Mike says.

I’m not a fan of snakes either, Oz says, but that’s not the issue. We are dealing with freedom of religion. Our government cannot dictate what people can and cannot do in regard to their religious beliefs.

Except when it endangers or discriminates against others, I argue. This is one of those cases.

Not necessarily, Karen says. I lean forward on the table and stare at her. How can she say that? She continues, The boy didn’t bring the snake to school with the intent to hurt someone. The people at that church don’t want to hurt people.

They only want to practice their beliefs, Hannah interjects.

Wait, what are you saying? I ask. You wanted me to put a stop to it.

Hannah looks at the table for a few moments before answering. I know, but – I think Oz and Karen are correct. These people have the right to worship God as they believe. Who am I to say they are right or wrong?

This is stupid, Zeke mumbles.

I look at him. I guess he thinks no one can hear him when he does that. He’s been doing it a lot lately. It usually doesn’t bother me, but today everything is irritating me. I lean back in my chair and shake my head.

Does anyone else have something to say on this? I ask.

Everyone gets still. I know I barked my question, but I don’t care. I’m pissed. I can tell most of the council members don’t want to interfere with these snake charmers, or whatever they call themselves, especially now that Hannah seems to be supporting them. There are days I wish I had never formed a council at all. It would be a lot easier to just do things my way.

In that case, I’m not even going to bring it to a vote, I say. I can tell I won’t have the votes on my side, and I don’t like losing. "But I am going to make an executive order. These people can keep their snakes as long as the things don’t get out of their house or church or wherever they keep them. They will have to tag them so they are recognized if they do get out – and if only one of them does, then that will be considered a danger to others. I’ll have them all killed and then ban snake handling. I don’t care if they think I’m taking away their right to worship. Oz, write that up and I’ll sign it. I’ll personally take it to them and make them understand what they have to do. Is there anything else?"

No one says anything. They’ve learned not to cross me when I’m in this kind of mood.

Fine, I say. This meeting is adjourned.

Oz almost says something, but then thinks better of it. I broke protocol by adjourning the meeting without a motion or a vote. I don’t care. I have better things to do than argue about snakes.

I leave the room before anyone has a chance to say something to me. I take the stairs instead of the elevator. I need to walk off some of this energy. By the time I reach the lobby, Mike has caught up with me.

I don’t need protection from the snake people, I say.

I know you don’t, Mike says back.

I shouldn’t be so hateful to him. He’s done nothing to deserve it.

Is there anything going on I need to know about besides the religious nuts? I ask.

I stop as we walk out the door of the bank. Roxanne is there, leaning against my Corvette.

I was going to tell you that Roxanne got back from her trip to Colorado, Mike says.

I watch him walk away. Things haven’t been quite the same between us for the past couple of months. I haven’t felt comfortable around him and Jessie, especially since they got married. I feel like a third wheel. Everyone has someone in their lives, even Zeke. He’s been dating the same girl for two months now; a new personal record for him.

How are you?

I turn to Roxanne. She’s wearing her military fatigues. She is still a lieutenant in the Western Alliance and is the liaison between our communities. She traveled to Colorado every three months until the trouble began on the west coast. Now she goes out there every month.

I’m fine, I say.

Roxanne puts on a fake frown and says, No you’re not.

Yes, I am. You just got here. How do you know how I feel?

"Because you only say ‘I’m fine’ when you’re not. When you are fine, you say ‘I’m good’, and then you smile because you’re glad to see me."

I say nothing for a moment, trying to hold on to my bad mood. The ugly, dark green uniform can’t hide Roxanne’s figure. She puts her hair up when she meets with the commanders of the Western Alliance, but she has already let it down for me. Her mousy-brown hair was short when we first met, but she has let it grow since then. There are streaks of blonde flowing through it now. She must have spent a lot of time in the Colorado sun.

Roxanne comes up and stands toe to toe with me, her eyes at the same level as mine. It’s not that she’s tall. I’m just short, and she’s almost exactly my height. She has hazel eyes, and I love looking at them. My muscles relax, and I manage a smile.

Well then, I’m good, I say in a more pleasant tone.

That’s better, Roxanne says.

She slips her arms around my neck. I place my hands on her waist and kiss her. I suppose I have someone too, but it’s not the same. Roxanne and I are in a relationship, but we don’t let it get too close.

I don’t let it get too close. I can’t let myself be distracted from my job. When I get too emotionally attached to someone, I don’t make good decisions. Being in love is a selfish thing. I want to spend more time with that person than I do taking care of the community. If I have to sacrifice my wants for the good of the community, then that’s what I’ll do. Roxanne understands that.

At least, I think she does.

Walk with me, I say. She clasps her hands behind her back and walks next to me down the street. So tell me about the Alliance.

Roxanne is quiet for a few moments. I glance her way, but I’m not sure what is on her mind. Maybe I should have asked about her first.

Abraham says ‘hi’, she says. I nod. He led the team from the Western Alliance who found the Cumberland Community. I like Abraham. The President also sends his thanks for the fish you sent with me.

Ronald Bailey’s father had been an Army captain stationed at Fort Carson, Colorado. Like me, Ronald took charge right after the plague. His Alliance is made up of two small cities that began accumulating survivors separately, but soon joined forces when they found each other. I like him. He patterned his government in a purely military style. It works for them. It could have turned into a dictatorship, but Ronald is an honest, fair man.

I’m glad he liked it. We’ll have to send more. Roxanne is quiet again. What’s up?

She looks surprised for a fraction of a second, then looks down at the ground and suppresses a smile. Roxanne knows how well I can read people.

I’m sorry I missed your visit day, she says.

I’ve never let her go to the cemeteries with me. I wouldn’t have let her go this time either, even if she had been here. I only go alone, but I don’t say that.

You had to travel, I say instead.

Still, I seem to miss you a lot.

I don’t like the sound of that. What do you mean?

We’ve been together for almost three years, she says. I like being with you, but…

You’re breaking up with me.

I keep my voice matter-of-fact, but this is disturbing. I like Roxanne. I don’t want to lose her, but I can’t – I won’t allow myself to commit to something more.

It’s not exactly breaking up. Roxanne’s voice is almost as matter-of-fact as mine. I’ve been asked to go back to Colorado, and I’m going.

I see, I say slowly, while thinking quickly. Abraham has asked her back several times. Is it the West Coast?

Yes.

She waits for me to finish, knowing I’m going to figure out the rest on my own. We walk another block before I say anything else.

They’re causing trouble, aren’t they? She doesn’t say anything, so I take that as a yes. Then I get it. You’re going to attack them. They want you there, because you know the area.

Roxanne was originally from the outskirts of Los Angeles. She escaped from the gangs that started up right after the plague. She hasn’t told me the whole story, but I get the impression it wasn’t good.

So, Roxanne is not only going to leave, she’s going to war. She will be in danger. I don’t know many details of what is happening out there, but I know this will be more than an S&R mission. There will be real fighting, real bullets, and people will die. This is even more disturbing than breaking up.

I stop walking and Roxanne turns to face me. I don’t know what to do. This could be the last time I see her, but I can’t dwell on that. What can I say to her without embarrassing myself?

Let’s go home, I whisper in her ear.

Chapter 3

Roxanne and I made love and slept in each other’s arms that night. The next morning, she packed her things and I took her to the airport. We kissed and looked into each other’s eyes. Then she got on a plane and left for Colorado. I watched it fly away until it was out of sight.

We didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t tell her I loved her. She didn’t say it to me. I didn’t want either of us to say those words. I admitted to myself even then that I had strong feelings for her, but I could not voice those feeling. I didn’t dare label it as love. The people I loved all died. If anything happened to Roxanne, I wasn’t going to feel guilty that my feelings had something to do with it.

Not again.

*** *** ***

A hand caresses my cheek. I blink the sleep out of my eyes. Roxanne is lying next to me, her gaze locked on my face. I smile, but she doesn’t smile back. Something else touches my shoulder. I look behind me. Marci is in the bed also. She leans forward and kisses me on the lips. I’m confused.

Jacob, a voice says. Melody stands at the foot of the bed, looking down at all of us. You will murder.

Wh-What? I stammer.

My heart is racing so fast, it feels like it is coming right out of my chest.

You will murder.

This time the voice comes from my right. I look that way.

You will MURDER! Casey screams as he lunges at me with a knife.

My body jerks so hard that I almost fall out of bed. I turn my head from side to side. There is no one here but me. I plop my head back down on the pillow. I’m shaking all over. My heart is pounding. It’s hard to breathe. The sheets are soaked with sweat.

Nightmares like this don’t fade from my mind like most dreams do. They stay with me all