Page 16

Sneaky AL

The boat bumped the dock, rocking slightly as 8-Bit cut the engine. A low fog curled over the water, thick and unmoving, clinging to the surface like a second skin. The air was dense with cold, the kind that didn’t bite but sank into your bones and clung like blackjack mud. The swamp didn’t get snow, but it still turned cold enough to make you want to forgive sins just for the sake of sharing body heat. An option he didn’t get due to his fucked up condition.

His breath came out in thin wisps as he hoisted his gear over his shoulder and navigated the slick wood slats on the pier, eyeing the tangled, skeletal trees for signs of the ass-crack of dawn threatening the horizon.

His mind locked on to what he was headed into. Eveque dying every hour. He started up the stone steps leading to the back entrance of the Creole King’s med building. And Cat was hiding something. Thanks to fucking Big G and AL. They’d gotten too far into her head.

As he walked, he pulled out his phone, opening the map showing him where the Twelve were, enroute. Fifteen minutes tops before they got there.

His phone buzzed and he closed the map, looking.

Speaking of the digital demon. His innocent brother AL.

8-Bit answered. “What.”

“Aww, don’t be like that, champ.”

“Like what? Pissed that you two got into Cat’s head?”

He filled the phone with an exaggerated moan. “Okay, so, first of all—”

“Don’t. Don’t bullshit me.”

“We just guided her.”

“You pushed her toward something she isn’t ready for. I’m not ready for.” He aimed for the door at the back of the building now.

“…Are you still mad?”

8-Bit came to a complete stop at his fucking nerve. “Mad?”

“Okay, okay, look,” he pled. “How about I make it up to you?”

8-Bit resumed his power stalk. “Not interested.”

“Not even if it’s really good?”

“AL, I swear to God—”

“Check your messages.”

Something in AL’s tone made him pause when he reached the door. He flicked open his inbox and stared at a single phone number. He grit his teeth and put the phone back to his ear. “No name. No context. No more patience.”

“That, my dear glitch-god, is the direct line to the Boss of Anarchy himself.”

8-Bit froze. “No.”

“Oh yes,” he whispered, his tone erotic.

“No.”

“Yes.”

His pulse kicked up. Master of fucking Mayhem. The bastard had broken into their systems once, but it had been enough to prove a powerful point. And now? Tables turned, you dumb digit.

“You magnificent bastard,” 8-Bit breathed on the phone, even kissing the screen with a loud smack.

“Okay—ew.”

“Shut up. This makes up for half your sins.”

“Oh, half?” AL let out a low hum. “I think this calls for a special kind of payment. Something intimate. Something thorough.”

8-Bit didn’t blink. “Don’t make me kill you.”

“At least I’d die happy.”

“Yeah. Keep dreaming.”

AL sighed. “Such a Dewy Decimal. Are we good?”

8-Bit didn’t answer right away. He glanced down at the number on his screen, heart still thudding. “We’ll see,” he muttered, then hung up.

At the back entrance, he paced, considering his options. Call now? Wait? Consult?

There was no fucking right time. No perfect setup. He needed to make the call now. Get her back before he died his last death and woke up to the nightmare of her still missing.

8-Bit hit dial and tightened his grip on the phone, putting it to his ear.

The line rang. Once. Twice. Three times.

The phone clicked followed by a low, “Who is this?”

8-Bit adjusted his grip on the comm. “You hijacked our system once before. Guess it’s my turn.” He paced in the silence.

“I see.”

“You have someone who belongs to us. We want her back. Today.”

More silence. Calculated, no doubt. “…Who?”

Not confusion, but testing.

“Her name is Beth. And she’s with child.” 8-Bit paused, waiting.

“I do have her,” he said, his voice nearly unreadable, neutral.

He resumed pacing, his breaths coming in sharp clouds. “Where is she?”

He didn’t hesitate this time. “With me. Under my protection. I’ll need coordinates and a phone number to reach you.”

8-Bit stopped at the unexpected cooperation, smelling a trap. “I’ll send the coordinates when we hang up. You can reach me on the number I’m calling from.”

“I’ll call you when we’re five minutes away.”

His fingers flexed against the phone, feeling like he’d just played into his hands somehow. “Good,” he muttered.

“How is her husband?”

8-Bit tensed with the odd question, wondering what he already knew and why he might be asking. “He’s being taken care of.”

“So, he survived?”

Something about the way he asked made 8-Bit’s stomach coil. “Yes, he did,” he decided to say, not wanting to jeopardize getting Beth back.

“I’ll be in touch in four hours.”

The line cut.

8-Bit stood with his breath stuck in his lungs for several seconds before exhaling all at once. He looked at the phone now shaking in his hand. That was too fucking easy.

He yanked open the door and headed down the hall leading to the med bay.

Spook stepped out while he was still a ways off and spotted him. They met up and 8-Bit pulled him into a brief embrace.

As soon as they parted, Spook searched his face. “You good?”

8-But nodded. “I am now.”

Spook’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me.”

“I just got off the phone with the man holding Beth. The Master of Mayhem. A direct line obtained by none other than our AL.”

Spook’s face sobered in shock. “Holy fuck.”

“He answered immediately. Says he’s bringing her here in four hours.”

Spook’s jaw tightened slightly. “What did he say exactly?”

“Confirmed he has her. Asked if her husband was alive. Asked for coordinates and a number to call when they’re five minutes out. That was it.”

Spook paused his pacing. “Asked if her husband was alive?”

“Yep. Thought it was weird too.”

He eyed him for many seconds. “You think he’ll show?”

8-Bit scoffed. “I can only fucking pray.”

Spook ran a hand down his face, leaning over to hold his knees. “Who all knows?”

“You so far. I’ll tell the rest when they get here.” He pulled up his map again. “They’re all five to ten minutes out.” He pocketed his phone, glancing at the door where Eveque was. “He’s fighting?”

Spook’s tension suddenly seeped out of him all at once with a sigh. “Like a beast.” He suddenly straightened and eyed him with a tired but curious look. “It’s odd timing.”

“What is?”

“You getting that number right when Eveque decides to speed things up. It’s all him doing it,” he informed lowly. “That machine is just a program designed to follow a genetic pattern and his is…” He shook his head with a heavy breath then seemed to realize. “I’m talking to the choir here.”

“Brother, this ain’t nowhere near my expertise,” he assured. “I get the jargon for the most part, but that’s about it. And yeah, it’s pretty fucking odd timing, now that you say it.”

Spook slid both hands over his face as he turned to the wall of frosty windows. “Thank fuck,” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and staring out. “Having her back when he wakes up.” He tossed 8-Bit a look. “Fucking best news to give him. Kiss your cyber friends for me.”

8-Bit gave him a warning glare. “Faithfully married here.”

Spook’s single laugh slipped out then faded as he returned to looking blindly into the darkness. “Another day on the horizon,” he barely said. “Is Seer coming?”

Worry edged the question and 8-Bit pulled his phone out, looking at the map again. He showed it to Spook. “He’s currently in first place.”

Spook looked and gave another single laugh that sounded like a burst of relief. He faced the darkness again nodding. “Good,” he barely said. “Righteous bastard,” he added, the weak scold catching in his throat.

8-Bit tensed at hearing his turmoil.

“You know Maggie’s pregnant?” Spook lightly threw out.

The casual tone put 8-Bit on guard. “Really.”

He glanced at him with raised brows. “Guess I’m not the very last to know.”

He eyed him, trying to get a read on what was going through his head. “Man, that’s… congratulations.”

Many nods preceded his, “Yeah…” More silence followed, then a quiet, “Nitro told me.”

Ah, fuck.

“She was too scared to tell me before that little trip we took. Doesn’t know I know. Yet.”

8-Bit shoved his hands in his leather jacket, searching for words that would help. “Probably a smart move, considering our fucked circumstances.”

Two sharp buzzes and Spook reached into the leg pocket of his black cargo pants. He pulled out his phone and looked at the screen. “That’s her.” He answered it as he turned his back to him. “Hey, you found it?”

8-Bit strolled a couple steps toward the window, giving him privacy.

“I’m headed there now. 8-Bit just got here.” Pause. “I will. I love you too.”

He hung up with a sigh, his blue eyes sharp. “I’ll be back in time for his next death,” Spook said with a calm fury.

8-Bit nodded. “I’ll keep your spot warm.” He held his palm up and Spook smacked it then gripped his shoulder tight.

“Love you, brother,” Spook mumbled as he went.

8-Bit grinned and looked over his shoulder, watching his slick stride. “You got a fine ass, anybody ever tell you?”

He gave one of his dry laughs without turning. “Yeah. Your wife.”

That brought a second real smile to 8-Bit. Two within an hour. He let it fall away as he headed into the med bay.

Too much joy felt like a lure for karma’s drunk cousin these days.

****

Jek stood at the front of the Basilique, Bart’s reports in hand, boots firm against the heavy planked floor. The big fireplace behind him at the back of the room snap-crackled and popped while the smell of chicken and sausage gumbo wafted through the air. The winter was bitch-ass cold this year and pressed in through the floors and walls. Even with the large room packed with bodies, it made itself known.

His gaze fell on the one he’d swore to avoid. Lenora. As usual, she waited for him with a smile that could light up any darkness. Which was a normal thing until two very normal nights ago, when a group of them laughed and traded stories and she’d turned her head in the firelight. He spoke before his brain could stop, told her she was beautiful. It wasn’t some planned confession, but it landed like a thunderclap between them.

Now, every time he saw her, she bore the mark of those words with a sweet blush. Like she was aware there was something he wasn’t ready to say out loud and thought it was sweet. She treated him like he was special. Like God had really outdone himself when creating him. He didn’t mind that she treated everybody like that. It was enough that he somehow found himself in her sweet basket of graces.

Problem was, he did like her. More than was safe, more than was right. She was a nun, still devoted, still proud to wear that title. It was why she’d signed her life away to marry a cyborg. The term sacrificial to a fault was her middle name.

He’d made himself write a list of the things he liked about her. An exercise he’d taken from a book he’d been reading called Writing Your Wrongs. Since everything he felt about her was a thousand percent wicked, he figured it might help.

Well, writing it down did the opposite. Made it go boom. Maybe it only worked on victims, not villains. Maybe he used the wrong paper, the wrong pen. All he knew was now he was having more fantasies about her that added a thousand shades of darkness to what was once gray.

His old one-night-stand inclinations were beating down his door with her. One touch. One taste. One lick. One fucking suck. He was screwed because he would never allow it. Not because he couldn’t seduce her so very easily but because he wanted to protect her sweet spirit more than he wanted to ruin her for anybody else.

He focused his eyes on the list of updates in his hands then gave a slow nod toward Mah-Mah and Lazure before scanning the many faces, careful to zoom over Lenora’s.

“Morning. Almost afternoon,” he added.

The Sisters were always in possession of the spirit-stick and overtook the soft murmurs with zealous greetings in the name of the Lord. Never failed to bring Jek’s grin. They always carried a fighter’s spirit, were always kind. Always eager and ready any time of the day or night to help.

“So… starting with the security side of things. Bart’s got report of movement at all borders.”

The floor creaked as bodies shifted and attention locked in.

“The vetting zone’s heating up. Fights breaking out daily. Two factions trying to take control—terrorizing weaker ones. We’ve caught spies. Some armed. Some just gathering intel.”

A few glances exchanged with lots of nun whispers all about it.

“People are still coming in from all over. For a lot of them, the swamp is just a rumor. But that’s changing. Fast.”

He let that settle, then flipped the page.

“All hatch leaders will stand by for orders from The Twelve on how to proceed with security measures.” He flicked his gaze in their direction, clarifying, “Regarding those movements.”

The shift was small but there. They were all eager for any kind of action to break the Swamp Fever he felt accumulating. It wasn’t for lack of breathing room but knowing you couldn’t leave, that was bringing it on.

He found his spot on the page and read, “Watchmen towers are serving their purpose. Don’t forget to mention them in your prayers.”

From the back, Zep snorted. “Pray they don’t die of boredom.”

Jek added his chuckle to the light round of laughs before looking around. “Any questions before we move on to the next update?”

The fire popped behind him as he searched the crowd, his gaze landing on Lenora’s sweet face and lit up green eyes. He lowered his gaze to the paper and scratched his jaw. “Next update.” He looked at the right of the room. “Surrounding towns are shifting.”

That had weight. The air in the Basilique tightened, spines straightening, arms crossing. They knew what that meant.

“Three days ago, we picked up chatter from the outer bands of Lafayette.” He flicked a glance at Bart. “We’ve been tracking multiple groups pushing inward. Some civilians, some armed. At least one gang-sized faction moving in formation.”

That caught attention. A few glances exchanged. A “group” was one thing. A “faction” meant organization.

“Best guess? People are running low on supplies. The city centers got picked clean in the first two weeks. Now they’re spilling into rural areas, looking for anything left. Some are scavengers. Some are desperate. Some are hunting for places like ours.”

That sat ugly. But he was instructed not to sugarcoat it in these meetings. The brutal truth in times like this was the best defense.

Jek looked at the next note.

“Southwest of Baton Rouge, we’ve identified two separate militia groups. Heavily armed. One’s camping along the river, the other near an old refinery.”

August exhaled through his nose, arms crossed. “You got insignias on them?”

Jek shook his head. “Not yet. They’re staying unmarked, but we know they’re organized.” He tapped the paper. “No signs of movement toward us yet. But that doesn’t mean sh…” He barely caught the potty mouth word. “Crap. They could be holding, could be waiting.”

“What about that Eastern Seaboard?” Zep asked.

“DC is silent. No official government response. No broadcasts, no emergency management. The power grid is flickering on and off across major cities. Midwest & South territories – every major hub from Dallas to Houston is in chaos. Mississippi and Alabama are breaking into local factions. Small town law enforcement are setting up “safe zones” and shooting trespassers. West Coast – San Francisco, LA, and Seattle are burning. California fell apart in the first week. Oregon and Washington are mostly in survival mode—no aid, no structure. For those who asked about outside help? The man responsible for taking down this country has ensured none will try. He didn’t just bring us to our knees. He kept all the ability to make sure we stay there and nobody tries to give us a hand up.”

Jek turned the page, then paused.

“We’re still working non-stop to reach any family outside the swamp. We’ve picked up multiple incoming messages.” He looked up. “Not all of them can make it here. Some are already trapped behind hostile zones but we’re working on rescue parties to go get them and bring them home.”

Jek flipped to the next section, eyes skimming the details.

“Our women’s teams are holding strong.” He let himself scan their groups. “Food production is steady. We’ve kept pace with rations, stored reserves, and meal rotations. Livestock reports show no losses. The smokehouses and cellars are stocked at full capacity. We’re still holding at a full year’s worth of food supply, with projected sustainability for two.” Jek turned the page. “Soap, candles, textiles, repairs—all accounted for. Winter clothes and blankets are ahead of schedule.” He looked up. “You ladies have done an outstanding job.”

He tucked his paper under his arm and joined the clapping then glanced toward the nuns. “And our lovely Swamp Saints have been running medical, childcare, and schooling without issue. I’ve heard extra high praises from all the kids who attend school.”

Another round of applause filled the room and Jek peeked at Lenora, finding her humbly nodding and smiling.

“On the medical side of things—midwives are keeping up with the births, and Patches reported no complications. Herbal remedies and supplies are fully stocked, no shortages on medicine.”

A quiet murmur of relief moved through the room at that announcement.

Jek lowered the papers and nodded. “That’s the full update.” He looked across the room. “Questions?”

He pointed to one of the nuns, raising her hand. “We have quite a few that are troubled,” she said gently. “About having one more damn body in the swamp,” she said, echoing the exact sentiment with a sweet laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. “They’re worried we can’t afford it and he’s quite vocal about it.”

“Does he have a name? So I can speak to him?” Jek asked.

Her face fell with fretful worry. “I don’t want to name names, I was—”

“Is it Mr. George?”

Her mouth froze at half open before she gave a little wincing nod.

“Mr. George has seen the worst of times,” Lazure explained. “I realize he’s not the only one uneasy about the growing numbers. I’ll pay him a visit and remind him we’re being strict in that regard.”

“I’m more worried about our folks who want to open the doors to all,” Bart said.

That earned a few sharper nods from the older men.

Bart said, “Let me remind everybody in here. Our borders keep us safe. We have the means to sustain ourselves, but only because we planned for it. We take in everyone, we risk losing everything.”

“Sounds like we need more border security from what your report said.”

Jek’s eyes cut over to Lucas. The weight of the lockdown was hitting their teenagers probably the hardest.

Before Jek could answer, Luseah jumped in. “We get why the borders are shut, but we’re locked in too. And we’re all working just as hard as everybody else.”

That got a few low chuckles from the uncles.

“What you want, baby girl? A cinema? A shopping mall?”

Luseah angled him a pissed glare. “I run medical rounds with Patches. I know it’s valuable, and I’ve learned a lot. But there’s a lot of others my age that feel trapped and useless.”

“What ya thinkin’ angel?” Mah-Mah asked.

“I was thinking we need a… I don’t know, a young adult program. Give them a sense of purpose so trouble isn’t finding them while they’re twiddling their thumbs.”

Lucas grinned, chucking his thumb at her. “She speaks from experience.”

She shoved him. “Hey, we both do, mutt.”

“Well, add our big girl to the roster,” Bart tossed. “Devise a plan and let me see it.”

She celebrated quietly with squeals of excitement that said she already had a full-fledged plan in place, at least in her head.

“What about you, Lucas?” Bart asked. “You got a young adult itch you need to scratch?”

“Hey, I’m happy to do as told.”

“But?” Zep chuckled.

“I just think maybe we should consider some kind of like…divisions, kind of like The Twelve have.”

“A coup!” Lazure cried, getting a lot of laughs.

“We could operate under the Hatch leaders,” Lucas said.

“You mean like the FBI or the CIA?” Zep wondered, chuckling.

“Maybe the SIA?”

“Oh, hell,” Lazure said. “You done got Savvie in on it. Yuh daddy’s gonna beat your ass, boy.”

“I gotta know what the SIA is,” Jek laughed now.

“Duh,” Savvie said. “The Swamp Intelligence Agency.”

“But wouldn’t that require intelligence ?”

“Uncle Zep!” Mah-Mah cried. “Don’t make me get a switch!”

“Alright, alright,” Bart called to Lucas. “Devise your plan and turn it in like Luseah.” He pushed off the wall. “Anybody else here want to expand the government before we end this and eat some damn gumbo?”

It was a unanimous no as conversation filled the room and everybody got slowly moving. Jek made his way to the kitchen, catching sight of Lenora headed in his direction. “Jek!” she called before he could dodge into a crowd.

He turned, bracing for the warfare already raging in his blood. “Lenora,” he said, not quite making eye contact. “Hungry?”

“For Mah-Mah’s gumbo? Always!” she said, smiling before looking around.

“What can I help you with?” he asked, seeing something was on her mind.

“Well, Mah-Mah says you’re the best small furniture builder we have, and we need shelves at our school’s infirmary.” She clasped her hands and angled her head. “But don’t worry, you’ll have help. For free,” she added.

He chuckled, and lowered his head. “I can do it, but I prefer working alone.”

Her face fell a little then brightened. “If you don’t need a helper, then I’ll just bring you refreshments.”

He paused. “ You were my free help?”

She beamed a smile and nodded. “I’m very good with a hammer,” she leaned and whispered. “Learned it from my father when I was a young girl.”

He side-eyed her with half a grin. “You? With a hammer?”

She grabbed his arm then quickly withdrew it. “And a circular saw,” she added quietly.

Fuck, this was a bad idea. “I guess I can hire you as an apprentice,” he said.

Her eyes got big. “Really? To learn how to make furniture?”

Holy shit, jackpot twice in a row. “If you want to, sure.”

She grabbed his arm and again jerked it back. “Pretty sure we need more beds for some of the families. And baby cribs,” she nodded with a saintly soberness.

Then it hit him. He’d just secured seeing her every day indefinitely. “Let me know when you’re available and I’ll see what we can do.”

“Oh! Thank you!” she gasped, grabbing his arm, and again snatching her hand back.

“Am I burning you?” he wondered, chuckling. She was sure burning him.

It took her a moment before getting his meaning and thankfully she laughed. “It’s so hard, I’m naturally a very affectionate person and I’m usually never around men,” she explained, her face stern. “And you’re… well, you’re… I see you as safe, ” she explained. “But you’re still a man and I’m required to follow etiquette rules.”

Damn. Safe. “Well… you sure it’s okay for us to work alone together?”

He was almost sorry he asked but he wanted to make sure they did. Her pretty hazel eyes got big again. “I can get a work order from sister Isla!” she realized, hand on his arm again.

He looked at it and she snatched it back, making him laugh. “Well, I’m hungry,” he said. “You wanna discuss plans over gumbo?”

She accepted with animated enthusiasm. He offered his arm and she regarded it. “It’s a gentleman’s etiquette,” he explained at her ear. “Allows you to put your hand on me without breaking any rules.”

Her eyes widened with her smile. “You are so clever!” she bragged, putting her hand on his arm as he led her to the kitchen.

Oh yeah. So clever.