The Empire at My Door

The Empire at My Door

Cole · Completed · 11.4k Words

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Introduction

Five years ago, they stripped me of my rank and stopped my retirement pay. Now, with the Imperial army at the gates, they kneel at my door, begging for my services. My daughter is wearing last year's shoes, her big toe practically sticking out. My wife is still refilling coffee at a fast-food restaurant at 3 a.m. The neighbors call me "that welfare-dependent guy" behind my back. I pulled my five-year-old dismissal order from under the bill and slipped it under the door. "You've got the wrong person."

Chapter 1

波纹铁皮屋顶又漏水了。

我去年修补过,但今年雨水从同一条缝隙渗入,顺着横梁滴落。我在屋檐下放了一个铁桶;水滴落在桶底,每三秒发出一声响。那声音像计时器一样在我脑海中扎根,提醒我这房子还能撑多久。

我跪在潮湿的屋顶上,用刀切开一卷防水布。这把刀陪伴我十五年了,从东线到这个地图上都没有标注的小镇。刀刃上布满帝国坦克装甲的划痕,刀柄上的防滑纹理被我双手擦得光滑无瑕。现在我用它来切割防水布。

街对面,卡尔森夫人站在她的玫瑰丛后面。她每天早上都在那里,假装在修剪花朵。当我爬下梯子时,她移开了视线。

上周,Ella跑过她家,踩到了草坪边缘的碎石。卡尔森夫人匆匆走出家门,盯着她的草坪。艾拉自己站了起来,膝盖擦伤,站在紧闭的门前。她没有哭。她站在卡尔森太太的门外,低头看着自己流血的膝盖,大约五秒钟。然后她转身一瘸一拐地回家了。

她学会了不哭。但她才六岁。她这个年纪的孩子不应该学这些东西。

我铺开防水布,用砖块压住。爬梯子时膝盖发软——去年搬运肥料时扭伤了膝盖,但没去医院。医院账单比扭伤本身还要让人头疼。我扶着梯子站了一会儿,等膝盖的酸痛消退。

这个月的账单堆在厨房桌上。电。水。艾拉的学校午餐费。桌子缺了一只腿,只靠半块砖支撑着。莉娜正准备去上夜班,在镇边一家24小时快餐店为卡车司机续咖啡。她曾是战场护士,能在炮弹落下时缝合动脉。现在她把咖啡倒进一次性杯子里,每小时赚十一美元五十美分。她从不抱怨。这比任何抱怨都更让我难受。

一张纸放在钞票旁边。一份解雇令。五年前由国防部长格雷夫斯签署,纸张泛黄,折痕变白。信中包含了我的名字、军衔和“滥用战时指挥”的指控。莉娜从未提起过这件事。每次整理钞票时,她都把它放到钞票堆的最底层,就像一层层地埋在泥土里一样。这张纸在五年里一直埋藏在账单堆底,从未见过天日。有时我怀疑她是否在等待它自己腐烂。

艾拉走出了房间。六岁,金发碧眼,瘦削。她的鞋子是去年开学时买的,鞋头是白色的,大脚趾的位置还凸起。她手里拿着几根细木棍和一捆旧的棕色纸。

“爸爸,你说过会帮我修风筝。”

上个月,她在学校看到有人放风筝,回来问我她能不能也要一个。我告诉她等我拿到钱再说。拿到钱后,我用钱付了电费。木条和牛皮纸是她从学校手工课剩下的材料中收集的碎片;木条长度不一,牛皮纸皱巴巴的。

我拿起它,放在桌子上,放到解雇令旁边。那条细木条贴在泛黄的纸张上,像是一种隐喻。

“等我修好屋顶再说。”

她轻轻点头。她从未问过第二遍。我看着她转身走回房间,赤脚踩在冰冷的地板上。她先用左脚走,然后用右脚,每一步都轻盈,仿佛害怕打扰任何人。没有人能被她打扰。屋子里一片寂静。

街角传来引擎声。柴油发动机,低沉隆隆的声音,镇上任何汽车都不一样。我走到窗边。

一辆黑色军用SUV转过街角,减震器在坑洼处发出熟悉的金属撞击声。车辆涂装为国防部的灰绿色迷彩,挡风玻璃反射着午后的阳光。我认出那个涂装方案。东线的每辆指挥车辆都是那种颜色。

车停在我院子前。

卡尔森夫人站在玫瑰丛后,眼睛睁得大大的。军用车辆以前从未来过这个小镇。邮局的面包车、牛奶车、校车——这些都是米尔福德的车辆。军用越野车不属于这里。

车门打开,一名年轻警官下车。他穿着一套干净利落的灰绿色制服,领口别着国防部总参谋部的徽章。他没认出我。他看了看我手里的防水布,又看了看我膝盖上工作时沾满的泥巴。他眼中没有恶意,只有困惑——他在找我。他不确定自己是否找到了合适的人。

“凯尔·沃斯先生?”

他说“先生”时停顿了一下,仿佛在考虑该用什么称呼。他大概不知道该怎么称呼一个退休五年的人。

“联邦国防部命令你立即前往首都报到。帝国已在东部边境集结了三个军团,国防部长格雷夫斯将军亲自签署了召回命令。”他从公文包里拿出一份文件递给他。纸张是新的,墨水很厚,签名区里整齐地签着格雷夫斯的名字。

我没接。

“我在修屋顶。”我铺开防水布,挡住了他对院子的视线。“漏水了。”

年轻军官的手在半空中僵住了。他看了看手中的文件,又看了看我手里的防水布。他大概在想:这家伙修屋顶已经五年了,现在联邦政府需要他,但他只关心屋顶。

“沃斯先生,这是国防部的直接命令——”

“五年前,国防部也直接下达了命令。一份解雇令。”我爬下梯子,膝盖酸痛,停下了脚步。我扶着梯子栏杆,等待疼痛减轻。“你还有原始文件吗?我的钱在账单里。你可以进去看看。”

这位年轻军官的喉结上下起伏。“先生,我对五年前发生的事一无所知——”

“你当然不会知道。那时候你还在军校。”

我把梯子收起来,靠在墙上。雨水从屋檐滴落,落在我的肩膀上。

“回去告诉格雷夫斯,他认错人了。”

警官站了几秒钟。他把召回订单放在门廊台阶上——不是递给我,而是直接放在台阶上,好像放下了他自己也不确定的东西。然后他转身上了车。引擎轰鸣,军用卡车沿他们来的路驶离,扬起一串尘土。

我弯腰捡起那张纸,转身进屋,把它扔到解雇令和账单旁边的桌子上。这三件事并存:法案、驳回令和罢免令。过去五年以及今天,都写在这三张纸上。

傍晚时分,莉娜准备去上夜班。她把外套从椅背上脱下来,瞥了一眼桌上的召回通知。她没碰它。她把账单移到一边,露出下面的解雇通知,然后又放回底部。她这么做时,手指在纸上停顿了一下——她注意到旁边多了一张纸。她没问。

“我们快吃完土豆了,”她说。

“我知道。”

她去厨房拿午餐盒。水龙头被短暂打开,然后关掉。艾拉拿着木板和棕色纸走进来。

“爸爸,你明天能修好风筝吗?”

“明天。”

她亲了我脸颊一下,然后睡着了。桌上摆着木条和羊皮纸,旁边是账单、解雇令和召回通知。三张纸,几条细木条。这张桌子,缺了一条腿,却承载了我们的整个生活。

莉娜从厨房出来,手里拿着一个午餐盒。她看了看那堆食物,然后看着我的眼睛。我们不需要太多言语。五年过去了,我们只能依靠眼神和沉默。

“你明天修风筝,”她说。她的语气平淡,毫无疑问。

我点了点头。她把午餐盒塞进包里,打开了门。晚春的夜风吹来,带来卡尔森夫人玫瑰丛的香气。她走进暮色,没有回头。我站在门口,看着她的身影消失在街角。她的步伐稳健,肩膀挺直。五年前,她也曾以同样的方式走进野战医院帐篷,炮弹从头顶飞过,丝毫不动。

我关上门,重新坐回桌边。艾拉的房间已经很黑了。整个房子里唯一的声音是水倒入金属桶的碰撞声。

我看了三件事——法案、撤销令和罢免令。我把召回订单翻过来,让背面朝上。

然后我从账单底下拿出了解雇令。五年来第一次,它与那堆钞票分开了。我展开阅读。我记得每一个字。我把它正面朝上放在召回订单旁边。这两张纸并排出现,都是同一个人签的。

我拿起Ella标记为“左翼”的木条,贴在两张纸上。

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It is an insult.

A betrayal.

And in the MC world, it can mean war.

Taryn refuses to be anyone’s property.

Bobby has never been good at following rules.

And Kellan Stroud does not forgive what he believes belongs to him.

The road out of Sturgis may cost them everything first.