Days Since...: Xavier: Day 853

Chapter Nine

Xavier guided his fingers across the cornstalks—the field teeming with the late summer harvest. The women and children busily plucked the bounty while singing. Old grocery baskets overflowed with ears of corn. A woman swatted the hand of a child. “That’s enough in that one.” The child pouted, her lips quivering, but no tears. She ran for another basket, cutting Xavier off, and then disappeared into the thicket. The woman caught his eye and shook her head, snickering to herself. “Kids.” She resumed her singing.

Her song, joined in by the others, filled the air inside the walls. But would it last? The happiness that rose from their melody inflated their spirits. But these folks had no idea what was coming. Most of them had no idea what happened to Sam. They just sang, completely ignorant, blissful in the deception. No idea that the whole thing would be flipped upside down. It was going to be a painful truth.

As the song continued to pour into his ears, he became frustrated. He wanted to shut them up. Shout out the truth—that the Second Alliance attacked them, killed them, were taking over, but he decided against it for now. The pieces weren’t in place yet.

It wasn’t their fault. Xavier hadn’t known either. It was just mild skepticism at first. Only while holding Haverty’s letter in his hands, did he know with any certainty. These people don’t deserve what’s about to happen. The Second Alliance had nothing invested in River’s Edge besides terror. No blood. No sweat. Only a simple plan to deceive them into servitude.

They really were quite clever. To make it look like it was the town’s own decision to take their help—the difference between turning down their protection and begging for it, unknowingly sealing the fate of everyone. He couldn’t stand to stay and listen to their joy. It ate away at him that he couldn’t let them know yet. Xavier pushed his way through the remainder of the field and slammed the door leading into the halls. It was just too much. I have to find Sam.

His heart sank immediately upon setting foot within the school. A set of eyes set directly upon him. It was the one. The one that struck Sam. The monstrous being stood just before him—above him, around him—clearly perturbed by Xavier’s actions.

“Is there a problem?” He could speak.

Xavier couldn’t. Petrified, he simply creaked his head from side to side. Wide-eyed, mouth open. Oh, Shit. He could feel a cold sweat moving below his clothing. The seconds grew into a minute of silence, simply standing there, trying to avoid eye contact. The iron man wouldn’t move—didn’t for whatever reason. Xavier was clearly intimidated, cowering in his presence. What more could he want? Did he know? Xavier didn’t want to believe that Grant floundered in his explanation.

“Watch it.” He gave Xavier a slight push.

A nod was all he could bring forth. Xavier waited momentarily, hoping the Soldier would move first, but he didn’t. Neither wanted to show their intended path. He sidestepped, pressed between the wall and the black uniform, cautiously resuming what he set forth to do.

Xavier could feel him watching every one of his steps until the corner was rounded. This game was getting old. What does he know? A brief moment with his back against the cement blocks, just a moment, and then he doubled back. The Soldier was gone. It was nothing. What is going on? A misunderstanding? He couldn’t risk it. Maybe they did know. Xavier rushed toward his living quarters.

“Hey, watch it!” A pair of sneakers squeaked out of the way.

“Sorry.”

He barreled into the room and knelt down in front of his footlocker. His fingers fumbled through the combination. The dial spun far more than needed. Trembling through the numbers, he started over yet again. Thirteen. There. He pulled, and it disengaged. Finally! He shoved the binoculars into the chest then took an old notebook, riddled with doodles and old song lyrics, from the bottom. A clean sheet. Concise. Deliberate. Clear, but not too clear. What if someone else finds it? It couldn’t be spelled out completely. He began to write.

The old way home. Opposite wall of the ladder. Dig!

He folded it twice over and slipped it through the crack between the lid and base of Matt’s footlocker. He breathed a few strong breaths. Better, much better. An insurance policy. If anything was to happen to Xavier, then Matt would have to carry the torch. That note left for him would be the only path to the truth. There would be no other way to know what the Second Alliance had done. There would be no one else to carry on unless Sam was still able and willing, but if Xavier’s defiance led to his own death, then Sam had most likely already met that same fate.

Xavier had to believe that Matt would know what the note meant. It was only slightly cryptic. He wasn’t that dense, although he may struggle a bit with it. Jenny could help him, and their curiosity—especially hers—would lead them to the pack. They would find Simon’s journal and Haverty’s letter. They would find the guns. It would be up to them what to do with it. Xavier only hoped that Matt would do the right thing and Jenny would follow.

But on second thought, Jenny was the more ambitious of the two—the one more willing to raise issue with the problems that would be revealed to them. She had no problem questioning them, and only yesterday, Jenny seemed enamored with the idea of building, starting over from scratch. She held on to every word that Matt used to describe the process of River’s Edge. The days, the actions that it took to create a stable society. Hopefully, she would be up to the task and be able to convince Matt to follow.

Matt will listen to her. He tries to play like he doesn’t care, but he does. If anything happens, he’ll do what she says. Maybe I should’ve left it for her. Well, I probably couldn’t have made it into the girl’s quarters. This will have to do. He’ll show her.

He poked his head back into the hallway—no one around. The infirmary was closest to him. It’s possible Sam was there, being cared for, resting. Hopefully, he would be in the mood to speak, but more importantly, able to do so. Please. Xavier pushed the door to the infirmary inward, waking the woman at the desk from her dozing.

“Um, yes.” Papers scattered. “Hello there.” She collected them and shuffled through, trying to appear busy. The grogginess to her voice gave her away.

“Sorry to bother you. I’m look—”

“No, you’re fine. I’m just getting caught up with things. We’ve been busy,” she said.

“Okay?” Xavier looked around the office. The empty plastic chairs lined up against the wall. The years-old magazines stacked neatly on the coffee table. Not a single sign of anyone other than the two of them. “Did something happen?”

“Oh, yes.” She searched for truth in her words while soaking in the reality of her surroundings. “Maybe, not so bad really.”

Clearly, she was still in a daze. Pulling the black hair out of her face and into a ponytail, she gazed up to Xavier. She was a bit older than him, maybe nineteen, but it appeared as if her years were much heavier than his own—her life worn down by much different circumstances. A scar from the corner of her mouth back toward her ear. What has she been through?

She caught Xavier looking at the scar once she revealed her cheek. Her bangs were pulled from the hair tie and left to fall along her face. She pulled self-consciously at the long sleeves of her shirt, ensuring that every inch of her body was concealed. In a world unlike this one, she would have remained young, unblemished.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s fine.” She turned her scarred cheek slightly away from him. “What is it I can help you with today?”

“I’m looking for someone. He would have come in here yesterday with some sort of cut on his head. Maybe a busted nose too. Does that sound right?”

“Truly, I don’t know.”

“Sam?”

She just stared at Xavier.

“Was there someone else working here yesterday?”

“No. Just me. I’m always here.”

“I’m sure you would’ve known if he came in here then. You tend to people, right?”

“Um, yes.” She spoke with uncertainty, but corrected herself. “Yes, I do.”

“Did you tend to anyone yesterday?” The frustration building as Xavier spoke. “Anyone at all?”

“I stitched up a finger yesterday. Real quick job.”

“Yes.” Xavier coaxed her along, rolling his hand. “And just before that or just after?”

“No.”

“Nobody at all? Are you sure?”

“I’m telling you no. Or, I don’t remember. I’ll show you the rounds if need be.”

“Yes please, I’m thinking one of us is confused.” It’s you. “There’s no way he didn’t come here at some point.”

“I know nothing happened today. No one has been here for help.” She stood from her seat, moved across the room, and sorted through the pages of a large book resting on a filing cabinet. “I’ll go back a few days just to be sure.”

“Thank you.”

He watched her finger run through the lines of the book. No expression upon her face, just a muted disposition. What is wrong with this lady? She had to be decent at her job for anyone to tolerate this nonsense. Regardless of how good she was, the whole arrangement was just another control mechanism. The Second Alliance could now manage who received care and who didn’t.

She brought the book to her desk and turned it for Xavier. “See. Nothing.”

“Any chance it didn’t get written down?”

“Not a one. They audit supplies using this book too. Supply office signed off on it this morning. See here.” She pointed. “It all checks out.”

Xavier just stared at her.

“I’m sorry about your friend. Hey, Thom—“

A heavy hand gripped Xavier’s shoulder, and he felt a hot breath pass within his ear. “Come with me.”

The sun flooded the office through the skylights—its warmth unable to escape. With all the windows completely covered and the air unable to circulate through the room, the heat stacked in layers within the office. Xavier slouched in a chair, looking around the room, trying to keep his mind from the sweat creeping across his body. He wiped from here to there, but no matter, it simply reappeared like a phantom itch that wouldn’t leave. His arms stuck slightly to the leather seat where he found himself. The sound of his skin peeling from the chair was almost laughable if it hadn’t made him feel so disgusting.

Xavier began to fan himself with the front of his shirt. It only pulled in the stagnant smell of sweat and an overcooked stew—the remnants of which sat within a bowl only a few feet away. There was only slight relief brought on by the fanning. He needed more. A water pitcher. Xavier removed himself from the chair and tried to help himself to it.

“Sit!” The Soldier in the front room reminded him where he was.

He cringed his way back into the chair and waited. It was miserable. It was never the intention of anyone to use this office again. No reason to make it more comfortable in these late days of August. Haverty hadn’t thought of that before moving in. Greedy bastard!

The room was large with ornate furnishings. A proper throne room for an improper king. It was beautiful, enticing. Not obvious with the drawbacks that he now faced from his shortsightedness. The heat was probably the reason he wasn’t there. Such a large man in a room more accurately described as an oven could be a stroke waiting to happen.

Xavier kept his eyes upon the water pitcher. Wondering how closely he was really being watched, he stood again.

“Sit!”

“I need to stretch.” He half-heartedly tugged at his limbs and attempted to move around the room.

“Just sit down and…” The Soldier’s voice trailed off into a muffled conversation in the next room.

My chance. Xavier glanced into the other room but saw no one. Again, the water pitcher. No one’s looking. He wandered toward the table where it sat and reached.

“Good, Good, Good.”

The familiar phrase startled Xavier, causing him to retreat. Damn!

“Thanks for findin’ my little buddy, Tommy. Take a break.” Haverty’s shoulders grazed both sides of the doorframe as he entered—his handkerchief already dabbing away. Unable to take another drop, it simply evened the sweat across his pores. Haverty squeezed behind the desk across from Xavier, preparing to take his seat. “No panels, son? No Simon? What in the world were y’all doin’ out there?”

“Can I get some water?”

“You can wait fer a bit. See how cooperative you wanna be.” Haverty leaned forward on the desk with both hands. “Well?”

Haverty loomed above Xavier as a cobra about to devour a mouse. His breath leaked from his mouth like a toxic gas. The cigar was missing, but his mouth smelled as if it was buried inside—dying.

“Don’t you dare do that. Don’t clam up. Where’s my guy? Y’all leave him under a bridge?”

“Is that what Grant said?”

“Now, son, I’m askin’ you. You, right there, these questions. Don’t do it again. Just needin’ ya to give up the truth. That’s all I want.”

It was obvious he had spoken to Grant, exactly as Xavier had imagined. Just keep it simple.

“It was fast. Honestly, I didn’t see much. We got ambushed. I didn’t see who or how many. I grabbed what I could and ran. I was scared.”

“And, Grant?”

Xavier shifted in his seat. He caught a glimpse of his boots (Simon’s boots) and slid them under the front of the desk as best he could. Overlooked by Xavier, this could be problematic. Although he couldn’t imagine that Haverty kept track of everyone’s footwear, it was still a good idea to hide them.

“Son?”

“I heard the shots, ducked, and ran. I didn’t see much beyond that.”

“What’d you grab up. Said you grabbed up what ya could.” Haverty leaned back off his hands a bit. It seemed he hadn’t blinked the entire time. His eyes completely fixated on Xavier, measuring him and every response. “What was it?”

“My bag and Simon’s binoculars.”

“How many shots?”

“Shots?”

Haverty’s eyes widened.

“It happened really fast.” Xavier took his eyes to the ceiling, acting as if he really needed to think about it. “I really don’t know.”

“Try.”

“I mean…” Xavier took a long breath while shaking his head. “Several. It wasn’t rapid fire. Just several shots.”

“How close were ya to Simon when he got shot?”

Xavier closed his eyes. Right there. I could have touched him. I did touch him. I killed him. His name was Teddy! I was right there. Never again. Xavier opened his eyes and looked into Haverty’s. “Not very close. I was in a tru—”

“How many feet?” Haverty moved in closer.

“I really don’t know.” Xavier’s forehead fell, now cradled in his hands—his elbows on the edge of the desk. “I just don’t really know.”

“Son, I’m really needin’ ya to try.”

“I can’t give you that answer.” Xavier looked to Haverty. “I was leaning in a truck when the shots came out. By the time I got out, Simon was down. I’m not sure if he had a chance to run or if the first shot got him. I really don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry fer what?” Haverty moved even closer. Their noses almost touching. The stench of his breath caused Xavier to recoil back into the chair.

“Sorry that I don’t have the answers you want.”

“Only the truth. That’s all I’m lookin’ for.”

“I understand.”

“Don’t think ya do. How’d ya get Simon’s binoculars?”

“I picked them up as I ran by.”

“You check on him?”

“No… I knew—I knew he was dead.” Xavier tried his hardest to look sympathetic, scrunching his eyebrows and biting slightly into his bottom lip all while angling his head toward the floor.

“How?”

“He had a hole in his head!” He began to rub his eyes, still facing the floor.

Haverty sat down in his seat and leaned back, folding his hands behind his head. He smiled to himself. One foot made it to the top of the desk, but the second didn’t. The seat creaked something fierce as it leaned. Haverty corrected it without hesitating, dropping all six feet even with the ground.

“Son, ya know this ain’t that big a deal, right? You ain’t gotta cover for no one.”

“It is a big deal though.”

“I’m glad ya think so, shows ya have heart, but this ain’t about that.”

“I can’t do this.” Xavier was sweating. “Can I get some water? I haven’t had any since last night.”

“Just a few more, and we’ll be done here.”

Xavier sighed, shifted again in his seat, eyeing the maps and documents around the room. Haverty snapped his fingers.

“So, you’re bein’ attacked?”

“Right.”

“You’re runnin’? Past Simon?”

“Yes.”

“He’s got guns. You know he’s got guns, and ya grab up some binoculars? Why?”

“Yeah—Yes.” Xavier blinked hard while trying to think. “I saw it laying on the ground next to him. It’s a pretty big pouch. I was thinking maybe a gun was in it. That’s why.”

“A gun in a pouch?”

“Yes.”

“How old are ya?”

“Fifteen.”

“How many guns you seen in a pouch?”

“I don’t know. None? I panicked.” A deep breath. “You ever been shot at?”

Haverty’s belly began to shake, building up pressure like a volcano and erupted with laughter. Gasping for air between snorts and outbursts, he turned red. He started coughing. “Good, Good, Good.” Still coughing. “That’s rich. Yeah, I’ve been shot at.” He cleared his throat one last time and went right back into it. “Where’s your bag?”

“I only had this change of clothes and my toothbrush. I left it at the house I stayed in last night. It’s less to carry. Less to think about.”

“Where was that?”

“Price Hill.”

“That’s a big neighborhood, son. Where?”

“On Grand, but I don’t know the address. The houses all kind of look the same.”

Haverty wiped along his bottom lip, down from the corners of his mouth. He smiled and rocked forward in his chair. He removed his hat and placed it on the desk. The saturated handkerchief spread the beads of sweat across his forehead. He placed the hat back upon his head and crossed his arms, shaking his head at Xavier.

“Not gonna listen to your bull anymore.”

Xavier just stared at him. This was expected. He needed to stay strong. Treat it as a bluff and wait for him to give up. Nothing Xavier said was incriminating. Nothing he said could be disproved by his words or any length of questioning. Haverty glared back, attempting to beat back his stare. Their eyes locked in a battle. Hang in there. Haverty smirked and folded his hands, all of his fingers interlocking, palms resting on the desk. He spoke—his accent missing—his wording exact and punctuated with accusation. “I know you read the letter. My letter. I know you did.”

Xavier’s heart dropped along with his eyelids. The heat overtook him again, suffocating him, his body unable to manage the stress, simply overheated further. His breathing ceased. A strange dizziness—his body, the pivot point to the world revolving around him. The room began to collapse—concrete and brick—all crumbling to the ground. Slivers of glass raining from the ceiling. Waves passed over his skin then ceased as the world snapped back into place.

A simple letter, not meant for Xavier, had damned him. He was finished. The revolution was over before it even started. Haverty spoke, but it didn’t register. Isolation was his best course. No talking. They would do what they wanted with him.

“Look son, I need that letter back. I can’t be havin’ that out there. Can’t have folks thinkin’ we’re the bad guys, ya know? We’re gonna do what it takes to get back on track. You ain’t gonna stop us, so… Where’s it at?”

“I really need some water. I’m not feeling so good.”

Haverty walked toward the old windows and poured some water from the pitcher. He set the glass down on the desk in front of Xavier. They looked at each other. Haverty was serious. Xavier knew it. He contemplated giving it up, letting him know where it was. But what good could it do? He reached for the glass and drank, buying time.

Grant, how could you? How could you let them know? How could you turn against me? All he had to do was keep his mouth shut. Haverty possessed no evidence of anything. Nothing at all, but Grant… Why would you? What did you have to gain by letting it go? That decision didn’t change what happened, and it quite possibly endangered him. How stupid of him to do that. It only gave the Second Alliance a reason to kill them. Xavier would never let the location of the letter be known to anyone else but Sam or Matt. No one else would ever know.

“Where’s Sam?” Nothing to lose.

“Son, I’m not foolin’ with that. Just get me my damned letter.”

“I can’t do that unless I know Sam’s okay?”

“Don’t quite know who that is or why I should be carin’.”

“What do you mean? Rupert said you had an entire conversation about him. He told me you worked out a deal with him, so he could talk to Sam when he’s better.”

“So ya did talk with Rupert?”

“I—I only…” Xavier paused, completely caught off guard. “Only briefly before I walked into town.”

“He came runnin’ to me with some sorta news. Said I’d be interested in what he wanted to say. Wasn’t much to get him to talk. Just a new job.”

A huge lump squeezed through Xavier’s throat. Rupert, that snake! It wasn’t Grant at all.

“Seems like ya had big plans, but all ya managed to do was light a match. Only managed to burn yourself. No kindlin’. Nothin’ else. Could’ve been a big fire, maybe. Sorry I’m gonna have to stomp it out.” Haverty began to pace the room, walking in and out of view as Xavier remained facing forward. “This world needs the S.A. We got more to offer than you do. Hard to get people to see beyond that. Folks want it easier, not harder. Sure we do things a bit different, but it ain’t bad. Never bad. Just depends on your taste.” Haverty rubbed his chin, continuing to pace. “It’s been a struggle puttin’ it all together. Certainly ain’t gonna let no one tear it down, especially no one from the inside. We’re gonna have to put ya away, son. Hold ya for a bit until ya come ‘round.”

Xavier struggled to contain the cries that wanted to break free. His eyes turned to glass then cracked—a single fragment trickled down his cheek. Immediately, he wiped it. No matter what he wouldn’t let his cries go. There would be no sympathy from this man. It would only let Haverty revel in this victory. Xavier’s breath fluttered for a moment, giving his back a quick jerk.

“Let it go, son.”

Xavier said nothing.

“Feelin’ sorry for yourself?”

Still nothing.

“Feelin’ like a martyr are ya?” He laughed. “You ain’t done nothin’ to be thinkin’ like that.” Haverty stopped behind him and rested his hands upon Xavier’s shoulders. His skin crawled from the touch. He tried to pull away but couldn’t. “I don’t get you, son. You could’ve had everything you wanted. Would’ve been a fine surprise for ya at the capital. But…you ain’t ever gonna know it now. Unless…”

Xavier looked up.

“That might be jumpin’ the gun. You could use some time. We’ll work on the letter later.” Haverty nodded slowly with a smirk on his face. “Yeah, I’m gonna give ya some time to think on it.” He paused. “But, what about Grant? What’s he know ‘bout that letter?”

Xavier sighed with slight relief. “He doesn’t know about the letter. I found it after I left him.”

Haverty started walking around the room again. His hands crossed, lying on his stomach. “Be honest with me, son. I’m gonna talk to him again. Already got his story before. I need to see if it changes now that he’ll see ya.”

“We were scared. That’s the only reason Grant might still lie about that.”

“Son, I don’t want no speculation. Just the truth.”

“The whole story about being attacked was made up.” The words came out faster than he had intended them to. Remember. Slow down. “Er, well, not completely. Grant was attacked. It just wasn’t like we said. There was a big argument about someone that Simon had killed. One of our people. Grant started yelling at him, and Simon lost it. He went right after Grant and wrapped him up in a chokehold. I couldn’t get him off, and… so I shot him.”

“Where’d ya get a gun? We took all them guns. Every last one from the school.”

“I didn’t have one to bring. I found it buried under some trash in a pickup. I didn’t have a choice. Simon snapped, and Grant… He was going to die. So… I shot him. Snuck right up and shot him.”

“Where’s the gun now?”

“I don’t know. I really didn’t want it, so I left it with Simon and all the rest of his things. If it’s not there, then Grant took it or someone else came along, but the stuff about the binoculars is true. I did take that.”

“The letter?”

“I took Simon’s boots. My shoes were so messed up I needed some new ones.” Xavier revealed the boots from underneath the desk, and Haverty nodded before Xavier started again, “Grant and I came up with the story we used and split up to make it more believable. I found the letter in the boot after I had left. Grant had no idea.”

“Where’s it?”

Xavier turned away from Haverty and fell silent.

“Hey!” He called out to the front office. Haverty’s assistant poked his head into the room. “Gimme a Guard.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I told you what I know about Grant,” Xavier said. “I can’t let you know about the letter. It’s my insurance policy.”

Haverty chuckled at the notion, slowly pacing the room, very clearly thinking about what was said. “Son,” he said, turning sharply toward Xavier, “I’ll have ya killed when I’m good ‘n’ ready.”

Xavier shot from his seat as Haverty jerked him up by the neck and kicked the chair out from beneath him. He was shoved forward but caught himself on the desk. His pockets were checked, turned inside out. The pocketknife slid across the oak top and landed in the chair opposite him. That was it. All he had. Haverty seemed disappointed.

“Straighten yourself up. You’re lookin’ like a slob.”

Xavier adjusted his shirt and tucked the pockets back into his pants. “You’ll never find it,” he said while turning toward Haverty, catching him just before he exited through the door.

Haverty stopped and rotated his shoulders back, slightly toward Xavier. “No matter. They’ll never find you neither.” He chuckled loudly as he exited. “In there! Bring up the other.”