By midafternoon, the heat was worse. The white-bearded man had taken off his hat and fanned himself with it. Bill had stopped complaining after the first hour. He kept looking at the ground.
Dobbins drank from a bottle, capped it, and looked at the line of them.
He pointed with the bottle toward a small patch of trees by the creek. “Ten minutes each in the shade. I’ll call you back. Terry, you first.”
The white-bearded man walked into the shade and sat on the low stone edge of the bridge. Louis stepped closer to the barrier and looked down the road. He saw no movement. Static came from the radio on the truck hood. Nicholas remained standing where he had been placed, the M14 resting in the bend of one arm. Sweat darkened his collar and underarms, but his face did not change.
Louis stood five feet away and said nothing.
Dobbins looked at him. “Harris. Shade.”
Louis stepped into the trees. The shade helped little. He sat on the stone edge near the creek and rested the rifle across his knees. The armband had rubbed a damp line into his sleeve. He loosened it by half an inch and then tightened it again.
Bill came over when his turn arrived and sat beside him without asking.
“You from Carolina?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Whereabouts?”
“Durham.”
Bill nodded. “Got people there?”
“Some.”
“Must be bad if you ended up here.”
Louis looked at the creek. “Bad timing.”
Bill studied the water. “They say they want us here to protect the roads. I don’t see anyone who needs protecting. Just us standing around in the heat watching nothing go by. That ain’t protection. That’s wasting good daylight.”
Louis shifted the rifle against his leg. “Right. But we are doing it anyway.”
Bill shook his head. “I got hay to bale. That’s worth more than standing here hoping some stranger tries to drive through a roadblock.”
“Orders are orders.”
Bill picked up a small stone and skipped it across the creek. “My father used to say that too. Before a mine took him in 2012. Bless his soul. That was an order too.”
“Sorry about your father.”
Bill shrugged. “It happens. What about you? Your family?”
“Just a sister.”
Bill glanced at him. “She pretty?”
Louis’s throat tightened. “Very.”
“Where is she?”
“Back home,” Louis said.
“Good. Better there than here.” Bill tossed another stone. “You ever killed a man, George?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t like it, did you?”
“No.”
Bill nodded slowly. “Me neither.”
Louis stood and offered Bill the stone. “I’m done.”
Bill looked at him, then sat. Louis walked back to the barrier and took the next watch. Dobbins leaned against the truck, one hand on the radio, watching the road. Nicholas stood still as ever. Louis adjusted the rifle and looked down the empty road. More vehicles passed. None of them matched the description.
By late afternoon, the sun began to sink. Louis looked down the road and thought of the women at the farm. He could not see a way back to them. Not tonight. The county would keep him here until they did not need him anymore.
Later, a dark blue pickup came around the bend from the farm track, its bed covered by a tarp. Dobbins raised a hand, and the pickup stopped beside the barrier. Cherish stepped down from the cab. She shut the door and stood with her eyes lowered until Dobbins spoke.
“Evening.”
“Evening, sir.” Her voice was soft. “Mama sent supper for Papa. And George.”
Terry turned his head slowly toward Nicholas. “Nowak, your girl came all the way out here for you.”
Bill gave a low whistle. “That’s a girl who don’t want you starved.”
Nicholas ignored them. “Cherish.”
She looked up at him then. Her face changed for a second. Then she lowered her eyes again.
“Papa.” She went back to the passenger side and lifted out a large insulated food carrier. A paper bag of disposable plates and forks was tucked against it. “Mama said you didn’t take food. She packed extra.”
“Thank her for me.”
“I will.” She opened the carrier, took out a wrapped bundle, and held it toward Louis.
He stepped forward and took it. The cloth was still warm. He could smell fried potatoes and chicken.
“Thank you, Cherish.”
“You’re welcome.” She met his eyes for a moment, then looked away again. “Mama said to tell you all to be careful.”
“Tell her we will,” Louis said. “Is everything good back home?”
“Your friends are coming for you,” she whispered.
Louis nodded once and kept his face still. Cherish turned back to the truck. Nicholas met her before she reached the door. He said something low, meant only for her. She answered without looking at the men behind him, then climbed into the cab. Nicholas stepped back and watched her turn the truck around and drive back down the road.
When Nicholas carried the food carrier into the shade, the men followed. He opened it on the ground. Inside were cloth-wrapped portions of cornbread, fried chicken, smoked sausage, potatoes, green beans, and sliced peaches. Bill laughed.
“Your wife feed you like a king.”
Nicholas unwrapped one portion and began to eat. Louis sat beside him and opened the bundle he had been given. The smell of hot meat hit him harder than he expected. He took a piece of cornbread first, then the chicken, and ate faster than he meant to.
“Good?” Bill asked.
“Get your plates.” Nicholas spoke through a mouthful.
The men came over. Dobbins held up a hand at first. Nicholas handed him a wrapped plate without looking at him. Dobbins took it and sat down with the rest. Men who had stood separately all day now sat or leaned near the same patch of shade. Terry broke cornbread and passed half to Bill, who took two pieces of chicken and handed one back without looking at him. Static still came from the radio on the hood, but no one looked at it for a while.
“Women.” Bill spoke around a mouthful. “They always make it better than you think they can.”
Terry nodded. “Ain’t nothing like a woman who knows how to cook.”
Nicholas chewed slowly and swallowed. “She knows how to cook. And she knows the Lord.”
“Both good qualities,” Dobbins said. “Most women nowadays forget one or the other.”
“They do.” Terry wiped his beard. “My wife was a saint. Thirty years and not one day did she question the path the Lord gave us.”
Nicholas glanced at him. “You lost her?”
“Two winters back. Took sick and never got better.”
Nicholas bowed his head for a second. “May she rest in the Kingdom.”
“Amen,” Bill said.
Louis listened and ate. The chicken was crisp on the outside and tender enough to tear with his fingers. Then Terry brought up the radio bulletin.
“That boy they want.” Terry wiped his hands on his pants. “What did he do?”
Dobbins spoke around a bite of sausage. “Don’t know. Something bad enough for Montgomery to put his name out.”
“He’s a Collins boy,” Bill said. “That’s the son of the Supreme President of the Dominion.”
“I’ll be damned.” Terry squinted at the road. “What’s he doing down here?”
“Running, I guess.” Bill helped himself to more beans. “Can’t blame him. If I was him, I’d run too.”
“Wouldn’t you run back to California?” Terry said.
“Sure.” Bill shrugged. “But you got to think. The Dominion is a place of sin. All that Hollywood filth. Women parading half-naked. Money worshipped like God. That boy probably got sick of it.”
“Maybe he found the light,” Terry said. “Maybe he came here seeking truth.”
“Could be.” Dobbins tossed a chicken bone into the bushes. “Doesn’t matter what he wanted. Montgomery wants him captured. That’s all that counts.”
“What about the women?” Bill looked at Louis. “What’s he doing travelin’ with so many girls?”
Louis kept his face still. “Could be anything.”
“Anything?” Bill raised an eyebrow. “A rich boy from California with a bunch of women. Don’t seem like a church trip to me.”
“If you say so.” Louis tore off another piece of cornbread.
Nicholas glanced at Louis once but did not speak. Terry shook his head.
“You ask me, one of those women is his. Maybe the rest too. You see what they get up to in the Dominion.”
Dobbins snorted. “That’s why they call it the cesspool of the continent. Every kind of degeneracy washed up there.”
“True,” Bill said. “But still. I’d take a woman from the Dominion over a woman from Montgomery any day.”
Terry laughed. “You’re thinking with the wrong head, Bill.”
“Maybe.” Bill grinned. “But I’m just saying, if I had to choose a pretty face and a sin, or a pious woman who made me pray before supper, I know what I’m picking.”
The men laughed. Dobbins shook his head. “You’d go straight to Hell.”
“Better than being bored to Heaven,” Bill said. “No offense to you, Nicholas.”
Nicholas looked down the road. “The Lord has a plan for all of us. And for this boy too.”
Terry nodded. “He does. And that boy’s plan is to get caught.”
“I don’t know,” Bill said. “A boy like that, he’s got resources. He might slip right through. Rich people always have a way out.”
“Not here,” Dobbins said. “We know these woods. We know the people. He can’t hide for long.” He looked at Louis. “Especially with a bunch of women to slow him down. What do you say, Harris?”
Louis chewed a piece of chicken. “I’d say women are liabilities. He should have left them behind if he was serious about escaping.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Terry said. “Women get you caught or killed. Every time.”
“Not always,” Bill said. “Sometimes they’re worth it.”
“Not when you’re on the run.” Terry shook his head. “The smart move is to go alone. Fast and light.”
“Maybe he’s not as smart as you think,” Louis said.
“Maybe he’s not,” Terry agreed. “Or maybe he’s just thinking with the wrong head, like Bill said.”
The men laughed again.
“How long do we stay here?” Bill asked Dobbins.
“Until relieved,” Dobbins said. “Could be next morning. Could be next week.”
Bill groaned. “A week? My hay’ll be ruined.”
“Pray for rain,” Terry said.
“That’s not funny,” Bill said. “I got a family to feed.”
“We all got families,” Dobbins said. “But we got a county to defend too.”
“Defend from what?” Bill gestured at the empty road. “From this chicken?”
Dobbins’s expression hardened. “From the enemy, Bill. From the sinners and the traitors. From the Collins boy and his whores. From anyone who would destroy what the Lord has given us.”
Bill looked down at the ground. “Sorry. I didn’t mean nothing.”
“I know you didn’t.” Dobbins’s face eased. “But you need to remember why we’re here. This is not a picnic. This is a war.”
“Amen,” Terry said.
“Do you think we will have a war with the Alliance too?” Bill asked.
Dobbins shook his head. “Not yet. We have our own problems. But if they try to cross the border, they will regret it.”
“What about the Dominion?” Louis asked. “Do you think they will try to invade? The Collins boy is their leader’s son. They might want him back.”
Dobbins looked at him. “They might. But they won’t get him. Not on our soil.”
“What should we do if we catch him?” Louis asked.
“Tie him up. Call Montgomery. And wait for the men from the capital to come and get him,” Dobbins said. “Don’t try to be a hero. You’re not paid enough for that.”
“What if he’s armed?” Bill asked.
“Montgomery wants him alive,” Dobbins said. “But if he forces your hand, you do what you have to do.”
When the food was gone, the wrappings were folded and set aside. Static continued from the radio.
Another truck and six men arrived twenty minutes after sundown. The regular in charge spoke with Dobbins near the hood. Names were checked. The radio was handed over.
Dobbins came over and pointed toward the truck.
“Load up.”
Nicholas looked at him. “We going back?”
“County office.”
“For what?”
“Sleep,” Dobbins said. “They got quarters for you. And orders for tomorrow.”
Nicholas did not argue. He picked up the M14 and walked toward the truck. Louis followed. They climbed into the truck bed with the sandbags and an empty water crate.
Floodlights glowed around the county office yard. More trucks had arrived. Men moved in and out of the building with rifles, blankets, and paper cups of coffee. Inside, the front room had been cleared enough to make space on the floor. Blankets lay in uneven rows between the old feed counters and the wall map. A few folding cots had been claimed by men.
Louis found a strip of floor near the wall map and sat with his back against the old counter. Nicholas lowered himself beside him with the M14 across his knees. Then the radio crackled. The clerk at the desk lifted his head.
“County office,” he said into the receiver.
Static came back. Then a man’s voice came through, strained and breathless.
“Patrol Three. We got one.”
Men turned toward the radio.
The clerk straightened. “Say again.”
“Got a negro girl on the south service road. Armed. Alone. She fired on us.”
Louis’s throat tightened. He kept his face turned toward the map and made himself breathe.
The clerk leaned forward. “What’s her name?”
“Didn’t get it. We captured her. She’s not hurt, but she’s not talking.” The voice broke through static. “What do you want us to do?”
“Bring her in,” the clerk said. “And be careful. She might be the one from the notice.”
“Copy that.” The radio went silent.
The clerk wrote it down. Louis listened to the pencil scratch across paper. Across the room, Nicholas’s thumb moved once along the M14’s wooden stock. Men settled again. Someone cursed softly about lost sleep. Static returned to the radio.
Louis lay down on the blanket without removing his boots. He closed his eyes and saw Savannah’s face. Then he opened them again.
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