Chapter 14 – Loyalties III (Patreon)

The rest of the day passed in a blur.

There were countless people to meet and greet. Groups were formed for hunting and training.

Luke watched the complicated dance as either Henry or Marcy managed to break up Luke’s group enough to make sure they were always outnumbered but not so much that they felt cut off and surrounded.

It was, Luke realized, a masterful manipulation.

And the worst part was, it all made perfectly logical sense. Healers were grouped up with heavy hitters and tanks who could keep them safe. Mages were sent where they could do the most damage without facing the frontlines themselves, and so on.

None of it was done in a pushy way, several members of their group were left to find parties of their own.

“We found that 6-member groups worked best,” Henry told them over a breakfast of strange, sweet crackers and some sort of jam they had found to be edible in the storeroom. “There’s a bonus to experience for each person in a group, but that has to be balanced against the experience split. Too many people and the bonus begins to lose out against the split.”

“What about solo or duo groups?” Ed asked. “You know, hit squads that go out and kill things before they have a chance to fight back.”

Henry shook his head sadly. “Too risky. If we had more levels, maybe. That’s definitely a good idea.” His blue eyes twinkled like icicles. “Edgar, was it?”

“Yessir.”

“How would you like to take a couple of our heaviest hitters and give your idea a go? Just a quick run and gun, as you kids put it.”

Ed lit up at that. “Really? I just got here. Are you sure that’s okay?”

The big man was already apportioning responsibility and had doled out a hefty amount to Ed. He’s very good.

Luke chalked up Ed as a lost cause. He might get his head out from the clouds long enough to see what was really going on around him, but if Luke tried to interfere, it would only go badly for both of them.

“Absolutely,” Henry told him. “You seem to have a good head on your shoulders, and I’ve always believed that it was best to give my people the freedom to act as they see fit. Rigidity means death. I like to think of myself as a flexible leader. And I hope you all will as well. My door is always open.”

Luke helped out where he could, but somehow, he was “unintentionally” left out of every assignment, every duty. Alice came to check on him a few times, but as one of the few Healers around, her talents were in extremely high demand.

As such, she was promised that their first priority once they got their feet beneath them was to find her husband and children.

That was enough to buy her loyalty outright.

Alice might have been nicknamed the mother hen at the office, but she truly loved her family. Luke found it hard to fault her for it.

She must be worried sick.

One by one, Luke found his potential list of allies whittled down throughout that first day until he was left adrift.

It didn’t help that most of the group had a reason to dislike him intensely, even if it was misplaced. John worked to build bridges, but he was constantly being asked to take leadership roles for this or that.

And because John was John, he agreed and took on far more responsibility than he could handle on his own. Which meant that Luke got the overspill at John’s insistence.

They worked together, barely having enough time to talk, let alone for Luke to try to bring him around to his way of thinking.

Marcy, for a wonder, didn’t bother Luke once. Nor did Henry. They seemed to be giving him a wide berth.

Though whether it was because they were legitimately busy with their own tasks, they thought he was sufficiently cut off from allies, or they were giving him enough rope to hang himself, was unclear.

Or you’re getting paranoid and thinking all of this is about you, a small insidious voice muttered darkly in the back of his head.

“This is great,” John said, holding up a flat piece of wood and a bit of charcoal from one of the fire pits. “I mean, it’s still terrible,” he added quickly, “but this is what I was talking about, Luke! Society. Rules. Structure. Henry’s building something truly great here.”

Luke hauled up another barrel from the hatch that they had unearthed under some rubble and gave a noncommittal reply.

“You’ll see,” John said without noticing Luke’s darkening mood. “The best way to catapult yourself to higher standing is to get in on the ground floor of something new and fresh. We’re here, there’s nothing more ground floor than this, and Henry’s going to take us all the way to the top.”

Luke, realizing that his input was hardly needed, descended into the storeroom below. He looked up at John as he cataloged the contents of the latest barrel. “Maybe we could keep this storeroom secret?” he asked.

John looked up, his brow furrowing. “Why would we do that?”

Luke had to think quickly to avoid arousing too much suspicion. “There are so many other storerooms, and we don’t have any idea how far this goes. It’s nearly dark anyway, John. If we tell them what we found tonight, they’ll just want to keep looking. This ladder isn’t the steadiest.”

Leaning over the hatch, John watched as Luke demonstrated. He put a bit more power behind his grip than any sane person would and was hardly surprised when his hand came away with a wooden rung. “See?” Luke said.

“We’ll assess its safety tomorrow,” John said. “I don’t want to keep anything from Henry… but you’re right. There’s no use in saying anything until we know what we’re dealing with.”

Luke descended into the storeroom below, lifting his voice so John could hear him. “I think that’s a good plan. Honestly though, if we can make sure to secure these rooms, we could turn them into apartments, John. Think about it, living under the bridge could be a thing of luxury instead of something horrible.”

“Sometimes I feel like I don’t have a partner…” John began singing.

Shaking his head, Luke picked up the next verse, “Sometimes I feel like my only friend…”

“Is the city I live in, the city of angels…”

They laughed as they mangled the song together, and for a brief moment Luke held out hope that things would be okay.

When darkness descended in full, they returned to the tower where everybody slept.

Unlike the tower they had arrived in, this one had clearly been built with habitation in mind. The rooms were spartan, but they were serviceable. Each floor–there were 10 floors above the bridge with more below–was sectioned off into several rooms and halls so that they could house hundreds of people in that one tower.

Luke’s group earned a special spot on the second-highest floor.

At face value, that seemed like a place of honor. To Luke, it looked like a warning. They were right beneath Marcy, Henry, and the higher levels of their group.

Beneath them were even more loyalists who saw Henry as some messiah come to deliver them to a brave new world full of milk and honey or whatever it was people believed.

They were, in effect, completely cut off. They were given their own rooms so that they didn’t conspire with each other, though after just one day Luke doubted anybody wanted to so much as breathe wrong for fear that this new stability would vanish.

They definitely didn’t want to give him the time of day. Given a chance to go out on their own and mingle with people who didn’t vanish bodies into smoke, the rest of Luke’s group were all too happy to pretend he didn’t exist, except John and Alice.

Even Edgar had forgotten about him with his new responsibilities. He had found his ticket, and it wasn’t Luke.

Most importantly, it meant that there was no escape.

Luke’s room was small. Though nobody’s room was great, all he had was a small pallet of straw and rags made into a bed only marginally better than the stone floor.

He had a window, but it was barely large enough to squeeze through. Even if he did, what then? They were hundreds of feet above the forest below, and his room looked out over the massive valley cupped between two sierras.

It was, without a doubt, a gorgeous view. If he bothered to voice his fears, he knew what it would look like. On the surface, he was given an amazing view and a place of honor.

But it was a cage.

He was free to leave, so long as he never did so. It was an unspoken arrangement. If he didn’t try to leave, they wouldn’t force him to stay, and so the peace and stability of a new world order could be observed and everybody could smile and play nice.

Luke pressed his back to one wall, keeping the heels of his scuffed and battered dress shoes–they weren’t meant for the sort of abuse he gave them–hard against the wall.

Then, eyes closed, he put one foot in front of the other, counting off the steps. He repeated this several times, both with eyes open and closed as he measured out the room to the best of his ability.

He shifted around the few crates and barrels that weren’t yet moved out of the room and then paced off the room again until he was satisfied.

All the while, that insidious little voice in the back of his head told him he was being paranoid. Nothing was going to happen. He was just feeling lonely because everybody had clamped onto this new hope with everything they had.

Even Alice, who should have known better, had succumbed to being wined and dined–survivor style–until she could hardly tell up from down.

He didn’t blame them. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. He should have left the first chance he had gotten.

I could have left with Ed that first day. We could have just walked out and disappeared. None of this would be happening then.

He allowed himself a few minutes of self-pity before he packaged up the feelings and stuffed them into a tidy little box.

Perhaps if Luke was some sort of super soldier, he’d have stayed up all night waiting for an ambush. Maybe he should have at least tried.

But Luke had more experience with crunch time than he wanted to. Far more than John would ever admit to subjecting his team to.

Truthfully, it was useful in retrospect, because it allowed Luke to sleep in just about any uncomfortable configuration. Usually under his desk, in a skimpy little cot that dug into his ribs. Sleeping on a lumpy pile of rags and straw wasn’t that much different.

He was out like a light because there was only so much he could do to prepare for something that may, or may not, ever come to pass. Besides, if he was going to ambush himself, it sure as hell wouldn’t be the first day, let alone right after nightfall.

Luke was more than a little disappointed when he woke from a light sleep. He heard the soft scratching of a small throwing dagger scraping lightly against the stone floor as the door was opened with what its operator probably thought was great care.

The room was pitch black, but the hallway was lit up by a small lantern held in a large man’s hand.

Now for the hardest part, Luke thought, keeping absolutely stock still beneath the thin rags that served as an impromptu blanket. The two familiar men slipped into the room, keeping the light of the lantern just low enough to provide enough illumination to see by.

Through squinted eyes, Luke was alarmed at what he saw. Not the sword being drawn with care and silence, but the red aura of malice that clung to each of the men.

It screamed alarm bells in his head.

Murderers.