War Girls (The Juniper Wars Book 5) by Aaron Ritchey (best short novels .TXT) 📕

Helped us there but didn’t help us with the Heartbreaker. We’d have to get a message to Sketchy, Tech, and Peeperz ’cause that would be the only real way we could get away with President Jack, once we grabbed him.

But like I said, it was a stupid plan. We had the chain-link to fence off Colfax—the nearby prison had more than enough. That old penitentiary had some quality razor wire and solid steel poles.

Using Stanleys and Gammas, we might just be able to do it, but with the ARK scouring Denver with their airships? Or the Americans and their helicopters? Unlikely.

If the storm held, we might be able to. Maybe. Germans had created the Berlin Wall overnight, August 12, 1961. We’d have to do the same.

Then again, the snow and cold might blow our mines before we had a chance to use them.

“It’s not going to work, Shar,” I said. “No way we can build a fence without being seen. It’s five kilometers at least. And we’d have to do it in one night.”

“Folks. Never believe. We can do. Anything,” Wren said in her deep, slow voice. “They didn’t think. We could. Take our headcount. To Nevada. They were. Wrong.”

“We can do this, Cavatica. We can.” Sharlotte let out a long breath. “But Cavvy, you and June Mai, you have to get along. I know you don’t like her, but you have to bury your differences. She’s family now.”

“But why her, Shar? Why her?”

Sharlotte sat down and held me close while Wren loomed over us both. So different now, so distant.

“Love,” Wren said. “Love. I loved a woman. Amarillo. And Dutch. Before that.” She paused for a long time at that name, the man she’d killed, shot right between the eyes.

“June Mai is kind to me,” Sharlotte said softly. “She’s gentle and she loves me. And I love her. It feels right. You remember how I said it was never right with Micaiah? Now, I know why. I’m gillian.” She let out a long laugh of relief. “It still feels good to say that out loud.”

“I’ll try to deal with June,” I muttered. “Maybe after this war.”

But I didn’t think the war would ever end. It felt more eternal than God. And already, I was so damaged. Couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think right, my soul so ragged it felt like an old dish towel.

“And your plan?” Sharlotte shook her head. “It’s crazy. And what did Wren always say? Crazy plans are good ’cause they always work.”

“Not this time,” I said, somehow knowing. “We are too outgunned and way outnumbered.”

Wren growled, “Like. Always. Goddamn skanks.”

“We’ll live in faith, not fear,” Sharlotte said.

“God can go jack Himself,” I said harshly. “And hope isn’t a weapon. It’s going to get us killed.”

“Then love,” Sharlotte said. “We’ve never been stronger. We’ve never had so much love among us and our troops. It’s love, then. Not faith. Not hope. But love.” She smiled at me, so soft in the candlelight, so warm despite the snow. “I’ve been thinking about needlegrass. You know how it’s sharp? It can cut you easily, and yet, you can use it to sew, to create, to mend, to fix. That’s us. We’re like needlegrass. We can cut, but we can also build.”

“Goddamn. Poet. Shar,” Wren said.

But her talking, my big sister Sharlotte and the poetry in her heart, helped me more than anything.

“Destroy bridges,” Wren said. “Like in a war video. Like it. Like it a lot.”

“So you believe in God again?” I asked Sharlotte.

She nodded. “Maybe there is nothing in Heaven and maybe when we die, we’re dead. But you and I both know, Mama’s still around us. Wren saw her when she died in that casino. I saw her when I lost my leg. You heard her at the ranch among the ruins. If Mama’s around, God should be too. I’ve chosen to believe. It comes and goes, that belief, but maybe that’s the nature of things. Maybe we aren’t made to believe in everything always and forever. Maybe that’s just okay.”

A little bit of Sharlotte’s strength came into me, then, and I relaxed into the mess of my family.

Wasn’t perfect, but one thing about the Weller family—we could wound each other, but we could also mend.

And we could build. Mama had built a ranch out of nothing.

Dammit, we could build a fence.

Everything, and I mean everything, rested on that wall.

Funny, the U.S. built a prison in the middle of the U.S., and then her soldiers came and set up a perimeter around Denver.

And us? We were going to build a wall inside that perimeter.

A prison in a prison in a prison.

Only this time, we’d be on the outside.

As for the United States of America? We’d trap her and her soldiers inside and sneak away with one of her former presidents. We’d steal away President Jack like the outlaws stole the gold in Lonely Moon.

Chapter Seventeen

WE WANTED TO CAPTURE a Lone Ranger feel with the Masked Desperado character. There’s something about a mask that’s universal. It hides a person’s features but not their spirit. For some, they can’t be who they truly are until they cover their face. For others? It’s only when they take off their mask that they can truly begin to live.

—Allison Healy, writer and producer, commentary from season five of Lonely Moon. Netflix. 7 April 2057. Television.

(i)

Sharlotte and I both slept in the Marilyn that night. Having her close made me feel worlds better. I kept forgetting I didn’t have to do this quest thing alone.

The next day, March 14th, the snow didn’t know what to do with itself. Sometimes it came down like heaven was trying to empty itself of feathers. Other times, the sky struggled to clear like it was desperate for sunlight.

Either way, our plan was set. Rig the bridges with explosives and build a fence. And somehow, get in touch with Sketchy, Tech, and Peeperz in the