War Girls (The Juniper Wars Book 5) by Aaron Ritchey (find a book to read TXT) 📗

granddaddy that had shepherded us through the Sino-American War and had taken care of the Juniper problem. Instead of governing the five states, he’d turned them into territories. Pretty much signed our death warrants

On the screen, Hoyt spouted some nonsense about the ARK believing in the future of an America with fifty full states once more. Then he excused himself and President Jack approached the microphone like it was a long piece of jerky, and he was mighty hungry.

“I will be going to Denver,” he announced, “and I will be talking to the troops there. You see, I ain’t afraid to step into the Colorado Territory. It’s been a while, I know, but it’s time we bring law to the lawless. It’s time for the United States to bring the light of democracy to all of her territories.”

I hit my whiskey bottle then tipped it to him. “Good for you, Jack. I hope you find my sisters. Wren and Sharlotte would just love to talk to you. You might not recognize Sharlotte, but you’ll know Wren. She’ll be the monster with the machine gun.”

My eyes went back and forth, from Tibbs to Swain to President Jack, all those powerful people in cahoots. They’d talk. They’d plan. They’d scheme.

It all hit me at once. “President Jack would know where the secret ARK research facility is.”

Even half-drunk, it was clear that my path lay in front of me. I had a mission.

I picked up Hoyt’s slate to continue my tinkering in the Percival code.

After thinking about it all day long, I had my solution. I set up an executable to insert a new datetime into the Percival code, and I set up a scheduler. It would run each night at 11:30 p.m. And each night it would increment one minute. Couldn’t do any earlier. Didn’t dare. And besides, they changed codes monthly. Once I kicked off the program, I’d have thirty days until Hoyt realized I wasn’t in the U.S. anymore. He’d know that I’d escaped his virtual cage and was coming for him.

It was February 27th. If we hit the Juniper on March 1, we’d have thirty days.

But would it be long enough for me to get to President Jack and find the location of the ARK’s secret base?

It would have to be.

I shoved the slate into the saddle bags Sharlotte had thrown me and got serious about my drinking. I’d done a month’s work in a day, and I deserved a little celebration.

The date, February 27, kept tickling my memory. I checked and saw why. Ash Wednesday had fallen on February 27 the year before. That was when Wren came to my academy to tell me that Mama was dead. Wren had told me the news with a smile on her face.

It was a year to the day.

(iii)

Pilate keyed through the patio door. By that time, I was drunk enough I didn’t care if he saw my alcohol stash, or me, or whatever.

He sat next to me on the floor while I replayed the Hereford Gold commercial over and over again on the VSD TV.

“Resentment is the number one offender,” he said, quoting his AA.

I didn’t move away but leaned against him. He put his arm around me. He wasn’t going to preach, and he wasn’t going to scold. He just held me. He wasn’t a father, and he wasn’t a friend, he was a Pilate, and I was like his old friend Petal, giving myself an awful medicine.

Truth be told, I wished for Skye6. It worked better to dull the parts of myself that wouldn’t stop hurting.

“Was the woman nice to you tonight?” I asked in a slur. Sober, I couldn’t talk about his Craigslist job, but drunk I could.

Pilate sighed. “I don’t even try anymore. I haven’t for a month. I’d go to them, and we’d talk, and then I’d quietly excuse myself. All I could think about was Petal. Or Rachel. And it made me too sad. As for selling my Male Product? Well, I’m afraid I’ve never found myself too appealing. Looks like you’re the breadwinner.”

“If you haven’t been doing the Craigslist thing, Pilate, where do you go at night?”

But I knew. He’d walk to a church. He’d either be at the altar, taking holy communion, or in the basement, listening to drunks talk about staying sober.

And there I was, hating sobriety, and drinking right in front of him. He might not have been tempted, but shame on me for not thinking about how it all might affect him.

He didn’t answer. It was pretty clear.

“Ain’t no God. You know that,” I said. “Why do you still go to church?”

“Because it’s far preferable to staying home and watching you destroy yourself,” he said. “If I was better at Alanon, I might leave you and let you sober up. But I can’t. I just can’t.”

“’Cause I’m your daughter,” I said. As if to put the matter to rest.

“No,” he said. “We’ve made it clear. I’m not your father.” He paused. And a single tear escaped his eye. “Because you’re my Cavvy.”

I didn’t correct him about my name. For him I might always be his Cavvy. Too bad she was so dead and gone.

And Cavatica was bad news. For herself. For everybody.

All at once, the power went out in the basement. The TV shut off, the heater clicked off, and all light winked off. We sat in the dark.

“You wanna go out and hit the breakers?” I asked.

He didn’t move. But then, sighing, coughing, he wheezed himself outside.

The lights came on, but I couldn’t get the heater working.

We never did get that heater working again.

Sometimes we just don’t know when we get a last time.

Chapter Four

IN THE END, WE FOCUSED too much on the morality and not enough on the new. We should’ve been more concerned with who people are and not what they do. It’s a mistake I made with the world, but it’s a mistake I’ve made with myself for much of my life. I