Last Avenger

Chapter 3

The next morning, shortly after a terse radio call from Celeste about meeting with the mayor of the settlement, Ari arrived to collect Steve and Thor back to Manahawkin. Ari's face was equivocated. They looked like they were simultaneously on the verge of laughter and anxiety.

"Ryan's pissed, isn't he," Steve said, riding shotgun.

Ari flexed their neck, dismissing the question.

Steve sighed and met Thor's eyes in the rearview. Thor had chosen to remain blissful and ignorant. Steve slipped his pill bottle out of his jacket pocket, downed a capsule. As he replaced the bottle, he caught Ari's eyes in the rearview, longingly morose. Steve frowned and ostensibly turned his head to his window.

They arrived in Manahawkin Lake Park, the effective civil no man's land off Route 9 between Stafford and Manahawkin. They disembarked from the truck at the roadway and made the brief walk in. The park in fall was mainly dirt and mud. There was a denser collection of tree trunks than elsewhere in the immediate area, quickly losing their leaves which were in the point of decay past the golds and reds to the sickly browns. Amongst the trunks, upon the lake was a tent approximately the size of a bungalow home. They ducked in under the flaps to the immediate mess area: there were a collection of a few benches where some more senior members from Manahawkin and satellite areas, stretching to townships like Barnegat and Beachwood up near the Toms River. They idly talked over winter plans and comparing crop yields. They were primarily older men and women under thick coats and animal hides with leathery faces. All had some kind of facial hair, weather full beards or some upper lip stubble.

"There you are," Ryan said, breezing the flaps to the rear quarters out of his way. He stood firm as the flaps settled behind him, his tanned and stubbly face granite.

The group froze in their steps. Ari took a step out of the way of Ryan's gaze. Steve looked like a wet dog. Thor gleaned over the tent like a friend was showing him their newly finished renovations. The others at the benches braced their backs and shoulders up, hunched against Ryan's presence.

"Let's go," Ryan said, standing to one side and holding up a flap.

Thor sighed, knowing he had to cut the act. He and Steve meandered forward under Ryan's eyes to the back quarters.

He looked to Ari. He seemed conflicted about something, but it was unclear from his demeanor.

"Yes, sir?" Ari said as though just to indulge him.

Ryan fiddled with his words. "Just...go wait in the truck."

Ari waved their hands out at their sides in mocking deference as they turned to leave.

The rear section of the tent was more organized: there were plastic buffet tables down the center where a handful of people sat having a quiet chat; an assortment of chalkboards on the various walls with marks of hasty scribbling and erasing. At the very back was a small, cedar desk.

"Can we have the room, please?" Ryan ordered.

The hunched folks at the buffet table rolled to their feet and lumbered out.

Ryan gestured for Steve and Thor to take a seat at the central table. Ryan stood at the head over the two men. Both sat with their hands in their laps: Thor impishly, but Steve was solemn.

Ryan sighed. "What happened, guys?"

"We were caught off guard," Steve said.