“What’s your name?” the man asked.
“Derek Reeves.”
“Reeves. That’s an English name, right?”
“I don’t know,” Derek replied.
Wade sat up, placing his feet on the floor. He grabbed a generic wine bottle from the end table and gulped the liquid like water. He stood with a groan.
Derek took a step back, the big man smelling like alcohol.
“You’re part of the fucking problem.” The man pointed at Derek. “It’s okay for everyone to be proud of their heritage but not us. We’re supposed to be meek. We’re supposed to bow down to the niggers of the world. That shit stops right now. You understand me?”
“Yes.”
The man took a deep breath, his gut moving up and down. He had a brown and white beard that hung to his chest. His arms and calves and upper body were covered in an amalgamation of ink, most of the tattoos unreadable. One tattoo was prominent and legible. His stomach was largely untouched by ink except for the large swastika tattoo.
“Name’s Wade Wallace. Wallace is a Scottish name. Your people raped and pillaged mine.”
Derek swallowed.
“But that’s how conquest works. The strong survive. The spoils go to the victors. I’m the President of the Aryan Nation on this island.” Wade held out his large hand.
Derek shook the man’s hand, trying not to wince under his iron grip.
“Where did you come from?” Wade asked.
“Virginia. Shenandoah Valley.”
Wade nodded. “I had kin that lived in Luray. Beautiful countryside.”
Derek nodded.
“Why are you here?”
“I failed the test.”
“We all failed the test. Why were you given the test?”
“I killed a man.”
“Why’d you go and do that?”
“Revenge.”
“Don’t gimme that vague bullshit. What did the man do to you?”
“He raped and killed my girlfriend.”
Wade nodded his approval. “What was the man’s name?”
“Zhang Jun.”
“Let me guess. This piece of shit was some rich fucking chink who thought he could come to America and rape our women. Am I right?”
“He was the CEO of the Bank of China.”
Wade roared with laughter, his gut moving up and down, his tattoos coming to life. His teeth were grayish-yellow, a few gaps here and there. He rapped Derek on the back. “And a banker to boot. Damn, boy. Sounds like you killed two birds with one stone. I like you. You’ll fit in just fine.”
“What happens to me now?”
“Well, that’s entirely up to you. You’re property of the Aryan Nation. If you’re a loyal brother, you’ll do well. I already know you can handle yourself.” He held his arms out, gesturing to his massive bedroom. “Maybe one day you’ll have a house like this and a bitch like that.” He laughed again. “I never had a house this nice until they shipped me here.” Wade gestured to the hole in the ceiling. “It would be perfect if I didn’t have that goddamn hole in the roof. This place was built to withstand hurricane-force winds, but the last one picked up a piece of concrete and dropped it right through my roof. Ten feet over and it would’ve killed me. I can’t swing by the fucking Home Depot and fix it. That’s the biggest problem with this place. We’re living off the decaying carcass of civilization. That’s why we’re always scavenging and raiding camps, always looking for things we can use. You’ll start off working on a raider crew. You ever hear of Roger Kroenig?”
“The congressman who quit and then disappeared?”
“He didn’t disappear. They sent that fucking traitor here. He has a group holed up in an old Spanish fort. Huge walls, thick stone. Nearly impenetrable. But they’re not self-sufficient. They have to go out for supplies. Sometimes they send women. We’re planning a snatch-and-grab mission tonight.”
82
Jacob’s Resignation
Jacob went into the office that Monday to tie up a very big loose end before he and Rebecca traveled to the Virgin Islands. Ramesh sat across from him at his desk.
“I’m resigning,” Jacob said.
Ramesh’s mouth hung open for a moment. “I don’t understand. You do know that we’ll eventually be bailed out by the federal government. I’m certain of it.”
Jacob nodded. “I know.”
“Have you filed the paperwork?”
“I’m working on it now.”
“I implore you to reconsider,” Ramesh said. “Our CEO resigning during this turbulent time could spark renewed short-selling. At least wait until you return from your trip. I can handle your duties in the meantime.”
Jacob sighed, thinking that a few more weeks of his CEO salary would certainly pad the nest egg. “I might as well use my vacation time.”
83
Summer Goes on a Scavenger Hunt
They were inside the fort, Gavin’s map open on a card table, a single candle illuminating the darkness.
“Where are we going?” Summer asked.
Gavin looked up from his tattered map. He tapped his index finger on a cluster of city blocks. “These blocks used to be hotels and shops in Old San Juan, less than a mile walk from here.” It was one of the few nearby areas on the map that hadn’t been marked with an X.
Roger handed them black ponchos. “Be careful.”
“We’ve never had any issues in the rain,” Gavin said.
Javier knocked on the table. “Knock on wood.”
“That’s plastic,” Eliza said with a smirk.
They put on their backpacks, then the black ponchos, so the colored backpacks would be hidden and protected from the rain. Gavin and Eliza concealed handguns. Summer and Javier had no experience with guns, and the group didn’t have the ammo to teach them, so they were given knives to carry for protection. The four of them left the fort, the guards at the entrance giving them a serious nod on the way out.
Summer was a bundle of nerves. This was the second time she’d been scavenging, but she understood the risks. She’d only been on the island for six days, but she’d already seen more horror than all her years as a nurse put together.
A wide concrete walkway led them away from the fort. The walkway was wide enough for a car and over three hundred feet long. A steady rain pelted their ponchos. The jungle encroached on both sides, branches hanging over the cracking concrete and obscuring the black sky overhead. They didn’t have flashlights, but Gavin knew the way by heart. He’d scavenged nearly every block of Old San Juan.
The walkway eventually connected to a small parking lot, which connected to the streets of Old San Juan. They passed the remnants of museums, a hospital, restaurants, churches, and hotels. The architecture of Old San Juan was very Spanish coloniaclass="underline" ornate, with archways, balconies, and bright colors. The pinks and lime greens and reds had faded, and many of the buildings had collapsed. A few still stood, dark and lifeless, the occasional human lurking in the shadows.
The Black Liberation Army had expanded into Old San Juan a few years ago, but the lack of bridge access or fresh water, plus the proximity to enemy gangs, had caused them to abandon the area. Now it was home to transients and the occasional scavenger.
It was eerie, the rain muffling their hearing, the darkness nearly blinding them. Gavin led them through Old San Juan, walking tight to the buildings, cutting through alleyways, every now and then throwing up his fist to stop, then crouching to listen before continuing.
Summer was third in line out of four, behind Eliza and in front of Javier. She heard footsteps sloshing in the water. In the confusion of the rain, she couldn’t tell where the sound was coming from. Maybe it was one of them. Maybe their steps were echoing off the crumbling buildings. Gavin held his fist in the air and stopped. He must’ve heard it too.