Vol. III Chapter 48 The Tenth Man (Part 2 of 2)

Rain pinged on the metal all day as John lined the walls with wood. Each plank cut to shape, turning cold metal into warm wood. He fitted the glass, cleaned and set in frames cut to size. He fitted legs and patched up the car seats. Even made a simple bookshelf out of leftover planks and square rocks.

He took a last look from the door. Windows, furniture, a fireplace. It felt like a real place for the first time. Water overflowed and dribbled on him as stepped out. He wrote guttering on his list.

It took another week to get the second unit to the same level as the first. A day to dig a trench for the latrines. Half a day to mix and pour concrete for the floors. And the rest of the day getting it level, knowing the comfort that would bring.

After that, John spent a few days putting up outbuildings. A lean to woodshed. Communal eating area. Stalls for the showers and toilets. The landing pad took the rest of the week. Quarrying the stones, laying them out and finishing in concrete.

John woke at six and headed down to the Pass. He walked the outer edge then turned back. The treeline he'd left gave good cover. He stepped through to see what he'd built in the morning sun.

The containers recessed into the rock walls created space. The outbuildings meant that people would mix, outside in the sun. It still needed a few things, but he could get them today.

"You ready?" Robco almost startled him, approaching while he daydreamed.

"Yeah." John lied.

John landed at the Vault, the Vertibird disappearing into the terrain.

Angled stairs descended through the rock, bringing them out in front of the open Vault door. Rick greeted them, a relieved smile on his face. "We voted to do a raffle. Your number gets pulled, you go. No more interviews."

"Fair enough." John thought anything was better than choosing himself. "We can take ten today." He smiled, standing a little taller to cover his worry.

"Nine." Rick said, a sternness to his voice. "There's someone who needs to go." He didn't elaborate, John got the sense he shouldn't ask and trusted Rick.

"We'll be back in a few hours." John and Robco headed out, down to ruined houses below.

John swept the house first, finding no signs of life. Then he set about ripping out things he needed. Aided by a lump hammer, he pulled two sinks from upstairs. Along with two toilets, to ease the adjustment to latrines. He reminded himself no one would be staying that long. Robco scrounged up a load of plates and cups, even a coffee pot.

Back at the landing pad, John couldn't help feeling like an officer. The ten evacuees stood in a line. Dressed in civilian clothes made in the Vault. Rifles slung, pistols holstered. He walked the line, performing an inspection. Jackets made from fake leather. Shirts from bed sheets. Simple packs made from canvas.

"Looking good people." John told a half truth. They'd blend in more once they got dirty. "Climb aboard." He turned to Rick as the evacuees got into the Vertibird. "I'll be back in a week, take another ten." He regretted saying it instantly, not knowing how any of this would go.

John saw Grimm come out of one of the units as he landed. Grimm guided him down. The shorter flight went easier on the blindfolded evacuees. No one threw up till they landed.

"This is just a temporary stop, let you get used to things." John didn't think they heard him. Each of them wandering in an awed daze. Touching the ground and trees. Shielding their eyes from the sun. Staring into the endless blue. John let them take it in while he got a fire going.

"There's some books in there now, few other bits." Grimm seemed pleased to help. "You taking watch tonight?" Grimm asked with a worry John shared.

"Yeah, first night and all." He saw that set Grimm's mind at ease.

"I'll join you." Grimm didn't offer. "First night and all."

Robco made his famous stew, talking through the technique with those interested. People picked out their rooms. Some eager for a window, others keen on the more embedded rooms. John finished his stew, sat with the others. He saw a figure approaching through the trees.

Rosie strode into camp. Armoured duster flaring out in the wind. Sword on her hip and carbine hanging off her chest. Sunlight glinted off her chrome sunglasses that he'd been looking for. The wolf like dog trotted obediently at her side.

John stood and took a few paces to greet her. She kissed him unexpectedly. "If you think that'll make me forget those are my sunglasses, well then you're probably right." John could see the tiniest hint of Rosie's discomfort through hard Recon posture.

"I went to secure precious cargo, so bright today." Rosie pointed over her shoulder. John saw Wallace and Louisa arriving home.

Instantly Wallace started introducing himself and asking questions. John could tell the boon it gave the evacuees to see a child living out here. Rosie hugged him, whispering in his ear. "Plus it's good to make an entrance, sets the tone." Rosie sounded like Brandon. She pulled back, looking up into his eyes. "I'm very proud of you. You know that, right?"

"I know." John didn't, but lied to spare her feelings.

"I brought you a roll from that place you like." Rosie pulled a foil wrapped sandwich from her coat. "It'll be all cold and greasy by now, like you like." She let slip a sigh at John's taste in food.

"Thank you. I don't know if I'll be home tonight." John knew this wouldn't be the last time he said that.

"I figured, it's fine." Rosie kissed him again and headed for home. John couldn't take his eyes off her as she did.

As Rosie walked away, one of the evacuees came in the opposite direction. Suddenly they both stopped. Then the evacuee, a middle aged man with a crooked nose, went back into the unit he'd just come from, the door slamming behind him.

John thought maybe the man didn't like dogs. Or maybe he hadn't known how to meet a new person. He thought of a dozen reasons for the man to react the way he did. None explained why Rosie stopped and glared at him before heading home.

The afternoon turned to evening. John spent most of the time sitting, talking, answering questions. Robco would gently suggest some things be left till the next day, not wanting to overload them. Gradually everyone went to bed, leaving John to keep watch.

He took a folding chair up the ladder to the top of one of the units. He placed his chair on the turf covered roof, resting his feet on the bagged earth. John took a nip from his flask, pleased with the first day.

John sat alone, listening to the radio to pass the time. "Mr Goodnight here, bringing the power of the Tower to you good people. Next up we got Albert in Bakersfield. What's on your mind Al?"

"Space aliens! I seen 'em. Lights in the sky, in a triangle, zipping around." John chuckled to himself, then realised what Albert might have seen.

"Alright Al, you get some rest now. Up next is Samantha, right here on the thirty eighth floor." The call in radio show helped pass the time.

Hours later Grimm arrived. "We got a problem." Grimm called up. John slid down the ladder, cursing himself for not paying closer attention. "Someone's gone. That quiet fellow with the crooked nose. Took his gear. You figure he just couldn't wait?"

"He's going to get himself killed." John felt like a hypocrite. "We need to find him, talk him round."

"And if he's not inclined to listen?" Grimm drew his custom Crusader pistol and chambered a round.

"I'll talk to him." John didn't know what he'd say.

John and Grimm set off, splitting up soon after. John kept up a quick pace, heading down hill. He knew a lifetime walking on smooth floors would make the dark path tough going. His guilt fuelled panic began to itch as he reached the road. He forced himself to remember those first few hours outside. The fear, the confusion, the assault on every sense. He hated the reminder.

John took a moment to breathe and clear his mind. Then his eyes fell to the spike of light on the horizon. He headed west. John made it to the bridge, when Grimm's comm broke squelch twice, then stayed open.

"Evening Rosie." Grimm kept a calm tone.

"Get out of here Mick, this has nothing to do with you." Rosie sounded angry. John broke into a sprint, heading to the green dot in the forest. Unable to do anything but listen.

"Well that depends on what this is." Grimm replied, keeping his voice calm.

"Justice." Rosie had a conviction in her voice, undercut with conflict.

"In my experience, justice doesn't involve a shovel and a shallow grave. This is murder." Grimm kept her talking.

John sprinted into the clearing. The man with the crooked nose stood in a foot deep grave he'd dug. Rosie pacing like a chained animal. Rifle on her back, pistol in her hand, fury in her eyes. "Get out of here John, let me handle it." She wouldn't, or couldn't, look at him.

"I'm not going anywhere Rosie, you know that." John put himself between her and the man. "Talk to me, please."

"Fine." She scowled. "Tell him." Rosie glared at the man. "Tell him what you are."

"I'm nobody, ple—" Rosie slipped round John and put a bullet past the man's ear. "The Overseer, the Overseer!" The man blurted out, starting to weep.

John turned on him. He'd dreamt of this moment. The architect of their suffering at his mercy. Part of him wanted to step aside. Part of him wanted to choke the life from the Overseer with his bare hands.

"You're the tenth man. The one Rick said I had to take." He tried not to feel betrayed.

"I was on the med deck when level one went into lockdown. Rick wanted me out before somebody found out." The man sighed desperately. "He was afraid that the residents would kill me."

"He's a smart man." Rosie had a coldness to her voice.

"Why are they in lockdown?" John asked, trying to buy time to think.

"They're afraid of what will happen to them. Of what you'll do to them." The Overseer let his arrogance flash across his terrified face. As if somehow he'd been proven right all along about the people he thought lesser.

"Let me take care of this." Rosie projected calm, but John saw the fear in her eyes. The toll this was taking on her plain to see. John tossed a pouch of caps from his pocket into the grave.

"West of here there's a town." John heard the bolt on Rosie's rifle snap as she loaded a round. "When you get there, find someone headed north and go with them. When you get where you're going, find someone else, then keep going. Because if I ever see you again, I'll kill you myself." John turned from the pathetic man that once held power over him.

"He gets to just walk away?!" Rosie became incensed, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the rifle. John moved slowly, cupping her face in his hands.

"No, Rosie. We get to walk away." He stared into her eyes, seeing the emotion escape. "Let's go home." John saw the fury recede, washed out by tears. He took the rifle and handed it off to Grimm. John took Rosie's hand in his, and led her to the home they loved. Far from the life they lived.

The Overseer ran, stumbling and falling over the uneven ground. He stopped at the bridge, breathing heavily and leaning on the railing. He felt something hit him, knocking over and into the water.

Half a mile down the road, Grimm lit a cigar. He slung the antique rifle, and headed home.