“No,” Sharon shot. “We just want to be left alone. I don’t understand why that’s so difficult. We want to be left in peace.”
“Peace,” Shepherd rolled that around on his tongue. “I reckon when it comes to other people, all we want is peace, too.”
A rumble came over the treetops. The ground shook.
Sharon Parsons sneered at the General a split second before the planes appeared.
“Peace? Is that what you call this?”
Two A-10 Thunderbolt jets-big and heavy tank killers-circled the golden field surrounding New Winnabow, and then flew southwest.
The town stopped and the residents collectively gasped.
Before the roar of the jets subsided, a new sound grew from the northeast above Route 17. A heavy thump-thump-thump chopped the air.
A moment later, a pair of Apache attack helicopters appeared overhead. They hovered and examined the scene, then split in different directions to sweep the wilderness around the town.
“I presume your Emperor is coming,” the elder Parsons remarked calmly.
Sharon, less calm, growled, “Shall we get out the tapestries?”
Her son, the six-year-old, held his hands to his ears to block the noise.
Then a much quieter aircraft appeared; one of the Eagle ships. It hummed and whirred as it drifted in from above. Despite its anti-aerodynamic shape, it moved as if a bird, at one with the sky and having formed some sort of amicable deal with gravity.
The craft descended to the grassy field. A short ramp slid from the undercarriage and the side door opened. Two green-camouflaged soldiers disembarked first, then Trevor-dressed in a simple gray tunic-emerged with Tyr the Elkhound at his side.
“Oh my God,” Sharon Parsons chuckled. “He’s just a man. Why look, he walks no more gallantly than the rest of us.”
This time Shepherd did react.
“A man who’s pulled half a million people out of slavery or saved them from starving; a man who turned this whole thing around.”
“Sharon,” Robert Parsons said. “Perhaps you should take Tory and go back to town.”
Shepherd saw that Parsons, unlike his daughter, had received the message sent by the planes and helicopters.
Sharon huffed and dragged her son away.
Shepherd understood how Trevor could be underestimated. With shoulder-length hair and a fit but not exactly muscular physique, from a distance he appeared to be an average guy in his late twenties. What in the old world Shepherd would have thought of as a ‘kid’.
Up close, the determination in his eyes and a rough edge to his skin-like dented armor-told a different, more rugged story.
Trevor nodded to Shep and then addressed New Winnabow’s Chief Councilman. “You must be Robert Parsons.”
“Yes. Yes, and this is Elizabeth Doss, a prominent member of our council.”
Trevor smiled as friendly a smile as such a worn and battle-weary face could muster.
“My name is Trevor Stone, but you already know that. And you also know we have some talking to do…”
…After a brief walk through town, Shepherd followed Trevor, Parsons, and Doss into the main council chambers.
Having stood for less than a year, the room smelled of fresh wood, particularly pine. Hand crafted tables and chairs-without stain or paint-comprised the furnishings making for a simple yet stately atmosphere. Long afternoon shadows stretched in through windows overlooking the tight streets of The Commons area.
Shepherd noticed-but did not think their hosts noticed-that Trevor’s dog Tyr no longer accompanied the group.
In any case, Parsons pointed the conversation in the necessary direction.
“So are you here to give us an ultimatum, Mr. Stone? Or should I call you something else? Lord Stone?”
“Trevor will do just fine. I have a feeling an ultimatum wouldn’t do too much good, now would it?”
“And why do you suppose that?”
“Because you’re a man of principle.”
Parsons waved a finger to make a point. “It does not matter if I am or I’m not. The decision as to what we do is not mine alone.”
Trevor conceded, “It seems to me this is a city of principled people. I admire that.”
Elizabeth Doss said, “It has served us well, Mr. Stone. Over the years, we’ve watched towns and settlements across North Carolina whither and die from attack, disease, or starvation. We have weathered the storm.”
Trevor attempted to remain friendly but Shep heard a strain in his voice. “I can’t do that. I can’t watch settlements whither and die. Not if I can stop it.”
“We’re isolationists,” she explained further. “We ask nothing from our neighbors. We care not what they do as long as they leave us in peace.”
“You can’t hide from the world,” Stone told them. “You can’t hide from what is happening out there.”
Parsons led them to seats around a small table. As the four sat, he said, “Tell me, Trevor, how is it you came to be…” Parsons struggled with the title. “ Emperor of this…well, ‘Empire’ of yours. I’m sorry; I have trouble with those words.”
“It’s okay,” Trevor waved his hand gently. “I’m having a hard time with the titles myself. The word Empire…it’s an old word. And I sure don’t feel like an ‘Emperor.’ No crown and all. But we had to come up with a name and, admittedly, I wanted something that would intimidate our enemies. Maybe I miscalculated how it would sound to our friends. Perhaps we’ll change it down the road.”
Parsons nodded and rephrased his question, “So how did you go from one of the survivors to such a leader? General Shepherd tells me that you now rule a fair portion of the eastern seaboard. How did that happen?”
“It all started very small, and grew from there. I had some help…” Trevor stopped and struggled with what he wanted to say. Shepherd felt himself lean forward, perhaps hoping to hear one the secrets; secrets about the woods Trevor often disappeared into, about how he could communicate with dogs and how he carried a library of knowledge in his head.
Trevor re-worded his explanation.
“I survived the early days. From there I found one survivor, then two. Then dozens and hundreds. Then thousands. Eventually we became more than a band of survivors, we became a nation.”
“With all of these people swearing allegiance to you?” Parsons asked.
Trevor nodded. “Yes.”
Doss tried to hide the edge in her voice but failed as she asked, “What gives you the right to rule so absolutely?”
“Results.”
“Results on the battlefield?” The answer did not impress the councilwoman.
“Yes, but elsewhere, too. We have a complex system of farms and food services, healthcare including vaccines and surgeons and diagnostic equipment. We even have a couple of dozen guys playing baseball and calling themselves professionals. I’d love to take you to a game between the Yankees and the Red Sox. Of course, that’s the Newark Yankees and Erie Red Sox, but the uniforms look authentic.”
Parsons smiled and continued to listen.
“Seriously, though, everything we have is yours. Let me help you.”
“We don’t need help,” Elizabeth Doss answered, but Shep did not hear much conviction in her words.
Trevor narrowed his eyes and said, “Tell me you don’t have children who die from illness that antibiotics or a medical procedure could have cured; the type of healthcare that was common five years ago. Tell me that your life expectancy is even fifty years old here. Tell me that you don’t have monsters in that swamp that come out once in a while and grab someone.”
“We shoot em’ if they do,” a new voice entered the discussion from the chamber doorway.
Shep turned his head and spotted a big man with broad shoulders and a freckled face striding into the chamber. He fit the description Cassy Simms provided of a redneck/beatnik hybrid, but the grim, angry expression on his face leaned heavily toward redneck. Shepherd felt himself tense, as if a fight might shortly ensue.