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“You are operating out here as if aggression and preying on each other is the only path to survival. It isn’t. It is a self-tightening knot around your own necks. You will lose numbers through attrition and then you will be gone. Other, stronger gangs will overwhelm you. Or you will simply erode your own ability to want to live in a world that is defined by a constant struggle against extermination. You would, in a sense, be fighting on the side of living dead. And even if you managed to survive, your group is too small to survive in any generational way. You would pollute your DNA within a few generations and what is left to survive would be warped by genetical damage. Hardly a long game worth playing.”
The old man stood up and walked over to Dahlia and stood looking down at her. She was tall, but he was taller and seemed to fill the whole clearing with his power.
“Or, you could let me train you to be better advocates for your own right to survive as well as soldiers in a very real fight to preserve humanity. There are probably hundreds of thousands of people left in North America. Maybe even millions. Globally, probably ten or twenty times that many. They will tear themselves apart if they follow the kind of mindset you clearly have embraced. And they have other dangers to face. The rise of diseases that were kept in check by the medical infrastructure and which will now return with a vengeance.”
“Why us?”
“Because you’re young,” he said. “Because you have made mistakes but you haven’t corrupted yourselves so thoroughly that you’re beyond saving. Because you care for the people in your group, which means you still have compassion. Because I would rather take a risk on you than bury you.”
Trash got to his feet. “Fuck this and fuck you, you old fuck. You can make all the bullshit threats you want, and maybe it’ll work on some assholes, but not me. You’re some kind of psycho motherfucker and we’re out of here.”
He looked around, clearly waiting for the others to join him. Nathan and Serena rose and moved to stand with him. Jumper and Slow Dog stayed where they were. So did Dahlia. She saw the surprise and hurt bloom on Trash’s face.
“Dahlia . . . come on . . . ”
“Trash,” she said quickly, “maybe he’s right.”
“What? You’re buying this shit? He’s conning you, D. He’s conning all of us. He’s running some kind of game.”
She walked over to him. “Is he? He could have straight up killed us. All of us. If he was running a game, then explain to me why he didn’t.”
“I don’t know why,” yelled Trash. “He’s fucked in the head. Who knows? All I know is I’m not going to start following some Obi-Wan Kenobi-acting motherfucker. If you do, then you’re as crazy as he is.”
They stood staring at each other and Dahlia could feel the air all around her crackling with tension. It hurt her heart. But at the same time the things the old man said sent a thrill through her, and a wattage she did not yet understand. And she wanted to understand.
She took a small step backward. “Then I guess I’m crazy.”
The pain in Trash’s eyes made them wet and glassy. “Dahlia . . . what about the Pack? Wh
at about us?”
“The Pack is mine,” she said. “They’ll do what I tell them to do.”
“Fuck they will. I’m going to tell them to pack their shit and we are so out of here.”
“No,” she snapped, “don’t you dare.”
He got up in her face. “Just watch me. You think the Pack has your back more than mine? Let’s see.”
Dahlia suddenly shoved him with both hands. She had no idea she was even going to do it until it was done. Trash was too sharp, though. He swatted her hands to one side and raised his hand to slap her hard across the face. Suddenly Slow Dog was there, pushing himself between Trash and Dahlia, puffing out his chest, pushing it against Trash.
“You want to hit someone, bro, hit me.”
A meaty hand dropped on Slow Dog’s shoulder and Nathan stepped to him. “You better settle down, hoss. You don’t want to—”
And Jumper shoved him sideways. Nathan nearly fell but Serena caught him. Trash pointed a finger at Dahlia. “This how you want it? You want to bust up your own family, D? All we been through and this is what you want?”
“I want us to survive,” she yelled. “That’s all I ever wanted.”
Trash nodded. “Oh, I get it, you think because this old fuck has some moves that he’s going to have a bigger dick and teach you to like it. Some kind of Lolita bullshit and—”
Dahlia slapped him across the face. It was a hard slap and it knocked his head to one side and tore a corner of his lip open, pulling thick beads of red from his skin. Slow Dog and Jumper flanked her, ready for what was coming, but Trash just shook his head. He touched his fingers to the cut, looking at the bright red, then reached out and wiped the finger on Dahlia’s sleeve.
“You picked your side, D. You going to have to live with how this plays out.” He pointed his fingers like a gun at the old man and dropped the hammer. “Next time I see you, motherfucker, you’re going to need more than some kung-fu bullshit.”
With that he turned and walked off. Serena and Nathan exchanged a long look, and Dahlia saw that they weren’t sure about which side they were on. But Nathan tapped Serena’s shoulder, nudging her in Trash’s direction. They both glanced at their friends, but then turned and vanished into the forest. The others stood listening to the sound of their passage fade, fade, and then vanish.
Dahlia pawed tears from her eyes. Jumper put his arm around her shoulders but she shook her head and he let his arm fall. They turned toward the old man.
