“So, what are you suggesting?” Jessie asked, lowering her voice and glancing up once more to check the guards were still at their posts. “Are you saying we should fight back?”
“I’m not sure,” Kitch said. “But we have to do something.”
Chapter 9
Later that night, Jessie waited until Zayn and Axel had both been asleep for hours before she dared to broach the subject with her husband. Art was exhausted and already half asleep when Jessie rolled over and whispered in his ear, making his eyes open again as he listened to what she had to say. She told him of the conversation she’d had with Kitch and his fears about what had happened to Jamie. She explained how he was worried there was an even more sinister motive to the Chinese being on the island. Everyone knew it wasn’t a blessing, but she feared that things could get even worse. Jessie told him about potentially fighting back against the invaders. She spoke in short sentences, frightened that somehow, she might be heard even now, even in the darkness of her bedroom surrounded by her sheets. That was how bad their situation had become: she no longer felt safe in her own home and it was that fact that won Arthur over.
“Does Kitch really think that he can get a group together?” Art asked, keeping his voice low as well though more to not wake his sleeping children, rather than Jessie’s fear of the guard placed outside their house overhearing. The man didn’t guard them anymore like he had on that first night – when they’d been brought back into the town after hiding in the forest. That night the guard stood practically on their doorstep to make sure they didn’t try to run away again, now it was more one man to each street, pacing up and down in the moonlight, automatic weapon slung over their shoulder like it was nothing more than a toy gun.
Jessie nodded in the darkness, the motion making the slightest scraping sound against the sheets. “He says it’s already gathering momentum,” she replied. “People won’t let this go on for much longer.”
Art paused and thought about some of the things he’d seen over the last couple of days. He was working in one of the more prestigious jobs that the Chinese had set up, his aim to get the electrical grid up and working again. They hadn’t been told why it was needed but, in Art’s opinion, they had enough as it was to survive for the time being. Getting the water running again had been a huge success and the fires they used for cooking burned constantly now, fueled throughout the night like a beacon in the center of the island. The Chinese carried radios with them and communicated across the island with ease, occasionally winding the solar-powered battery packs that kept them functioning.
With those items ticked off, Art couldn’t think what they needed power for on the island. When life was stripped back to its bare basics, mankind learned to survive without rolling news broadcasts or constant background music. There was little need to look anything up online or check in with old friends over social media. That was perhaps the only element of modern life that Art missed right now; he longed for some connection to the world beyond Kauai. Not to catch up with friends or share the latest photos of his children, but to find out what had happened, to discover if the people he loved were still alive.
For all its wonders, Art highly doubted that access to the internet was why the Chinese were so desperate for the power grid to be back online. He suspected they knew far more than they were letting on about what had happened on the mainland and across the rest of the world, a few of them asking from time to time but getting nothing in response. Despite that, the restoration of power remained the number one priority and Art worked long hours every day doing everything he could to be successful.
There were only eight of them tasked with the job, a random selection of the engineers that remained on the island. People like Dennis had been left out of the crew, but there were a couple of faces that Art recognized from the colony they tried to form in the north. He hadn’t spoken to either of them, but they were always whispering between themselves and he had suspected on more than one occasion that they might be plotting.
“You’re right,” he replied to Jessie eventually, finding her hand underneath the covers and giving it a squeeze. “I think I’ve probably seen whisperings of it too. What did Kitch say we should do?”
“We need to try and spread the word,” Jessie answered. “We need to get as many people on board as possible, get a group together and only then will we stand a chance.”
“How will we know who we can trust?”
“We won’t,” Jessie swallowed. “Not completely.” This was something she’d raised with Kitch and was an issue they were both fearful of. If they shared their potential uprising with the wrong person and it got back to the Chinese then they were done for, they’d be shipped off to the vessel in the ocean or something worse. It was dangerous, but unless they wanted to live the rest of their lives like prisoners, Jessie knew it needed to be done. She was almost entirely behind the idea, apart from one tiny worry that rested in the back of her mind. The same worry that her husband picked up on and voiced perfectly for her.
“What about the boys?”
Jessie sighed. Zayn and Axel were the one thing stopping her from throwing herself into this revolt wholeheartedly. The more she had talked things over with Kitch earlier that day, the more she had convinced herself how much she was one hundred percent behind the idea of a revolt. She realized they were only sugarcoating the harsh reality with full plates of food and hot showers. By the time the working day was done, her blood was boiling and she was ready to jump on the next Chinese soldier that even dared look at her the wrong way.
But then she saw her boys. Zayn and Axel ran over to her side after spending the day with Martha so she could work. Axel threw his arms around her and gave her a squeeze, his short arms only just reaching around her larger frame. What would happen to them if things went wrong? The question had plagued Jessie as she’d walked them home, looking back over her shoulder just in time to see Kitch taking a left towards his own home, their eyes briefly meeting and for a split second, reminding them both of the promises they had made amongst the crops. But Kitch didn’t have children to think of. He was still only a teenager himself, no responsibilities to think of. Jessie had a lot of them and they all resided in the form of her two boys. The only way she could go ahead with this was if she was certain the outcome would give them both a better future than the one currently laid out for them.
“We can’t tell them,” Jessie spoke softly in response, keeping a firm grip on Art’s hand in the darkness. “We need to keep them safe.”
“What if it doesn’t work out?” Art made himself ask the question, not wanting to play devil’s advocate, but aware he needed to speak the words out loud. They both needed to be on the same page when it came to matters as important as this. They had been reckless at times before, and it had put their family in danger. Neither of them was willing to let that happen again.
“It will,” Jessie said resolutely. “It has to.”
It wasn’t a conclusive explanation by any means and it didn’t make either Jessie or Art feel more comfortable about what could happen as the conversation ended and they slipped into silence. Both of them were scared of what may happen if the barely-formed plan didn’t go in their favor, but both were also sadly aware it was the only option they had. They’d spoken about life under this new regime before and they were in agreement that it couldn’t last. Tomorrow they would take the first step in changing things; tomorrow they would take the leap of faith.
When the sun rose the next morning and broke through the shutters on their bedroom window, Art hugged Jessie’s body closer to his and held her there for a few seconds. He had already been awake for hours. In truth, he’d barely slept. The conversation he and Jessie had stolen in the night had replayed over and over again in his head, his mind whirring as he tried to reach a conclusion that would tell him what to do.
But no matter how long he thought it over, he couldn’t reach one. He wanted an answer to come to him, to tell him exactly how to save his family from the n
ew island regime and keep them completely safe at the same time. Sadly, it wasn’t possible. Art had grown up knowing that risks needed to be taken to achieve success. It was the mantra he had followed throughout his career and love life. It was the reason why he and Jessie had so confidently moved half way across the world and away from family to live in Kauai. They knew it was a risk, but it had ultimately made them both so happy that it was undoubtedly worth it. As Art got dressed that morning and prepared to leave for his work detail, he reminded himself that there had been no clear sign back then and everything had worked out. Just like all those years ago, he and his beloved wife needed to trust their instincts.
“Be good, both of you,” Art instructed his two boys as he waved goodbye to them, leaving the house before Jessie took them out to the farmlands with her. “Stay out of trouble!”
The smile he wore for them fell from his face instantly as he closed the front door and stepped out into the street. It was another hot day, his shirt already starting to stick to his back as Art paced through the town toward where his work detail met. He knew if things didn’t go to plan it would get a whole lot stickier.
He handed over his identification badge and received his work binder back in return. It was full of the formulas he’d been working on the day before, hopeful equations that might get the grid back up and running. Carrying them over to his station, he set the binder down and looked around the room, his eyes landing on the two men he’d been searching for. The two from Dennis’ group and hopefully, if his instincts were correct, the two that would help spread the word of their plan.
Before they noticed him looking at them, Art dropped his eyes down to his station and pulled a couple of papers from the binder. He hadn’t yet decided whether he stood more of a chance speaking to them verbally, or passing a note. The latter ran the risk of being found by the guards and handed in, while the former carried the more obvious risk of being overheard. In the quiet workspace where the sound of a pencil falling onto the carpeted floor seemed to echo, Art coughed into his sleeve and at the same time ripped a small corner from one of the pages, his cough masking the sound. So now he had the means, but what was he going to say?
We need to stand up for ourselves. Can’t carry on like this. Recruiting a team – are you prepared to fight back?
Looking down at the words, Art knew they weren’t subtle or secretive. He’d never had much of a way with words, years of ineloquent cards to Jessie on birthdays and anniversaries often putting him to shame. He’d thought about trying to disguise the message in a riddle of some kind or by using some sort of code, but it was hard enough trying to come up with one, let alone relying on anyone working it out. In the end, Art had decided to be blunt and to the point. He needed these guys to know what they were letting themselves in for and he couldn’t waste any more time. Picking up his binder with the message slipped behind the first page, he stood up and made his way over to the two men.
“Uh hey,” he greeted them awkwardly, one of the guards looking over at them at the noise. “I can’t get my head around these numbers, you guys mind taking a look?”
It was Dennis’ friend Jason that answered first, confused why Art was even speaking to them. He had seen him at the retreat in the north and was unsure whether he could be trusted or not, the late arrival of him and his family causing uproar amongst those already there. In their new environment though, Jason knew he couldn’t just turn the man away.
“What’ve you got?”
Art set the binder down on the table in front of them, leaning over to hide the page as much as possible with his frame. “It’s just this equation here,” he pointed to one on the page, covering it partly with his finger so he forced Jason and the other guy to lean in as well. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
“Move your finger then,” Jason urged, not yet following the hidden reasoning for Art’s arrival. It was only when Art slid the torn paper out with his finger and laid it on the page instead that Jason’s demeanor shifted, his body seeming to freeze as he read the message. “Hm,” he spoke out loud. “Interesting.”
Art held the torn paper in place with his hand for a few more seconds, making sure he gave both men the chance to read it properly before sliding it away again and hiding it in the middle of the binder.
“Do you see the problem?” Art asked, speaking loudly so the guard could hear him properly and using a deliberately open-ended question so that the men could hopefully reply with ease. “I need some help.”
“Yes,” Jason replied, the other man nodding along. “We should be able to help you with that.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” Jason continued. “We’ll figure it out.”
Chapter 10
“This is one of what we call our rec rooms,” Henry Packham explained as he led Walter through the underground complex, giving him a whistle stop tour of the labyrinth of rooms that were hidden away. He walked quickly and with purpose, not stopping to let Walter look around as he gestured with his arm and several people who sat around the room looked up at the two men hurrying past.
Walter caught a glimpse of a few groups of people, one sitting around on bean bags reading books and magazines, another playing a board game. It looked like a place where people could come to relax and unwind, a sort of community center for the people that called this strange place their home.
After explaining himself to Henry Packham, Walter had waited anxiously to discover whether he was going to be turned back onto the streets or welcomed into the community. He’d bit the bullet and outed himself as a policeman, the news actually making very little difference to Henry, with a number of the former cops already a part of their team. All that Henry really wanted to know was whether Walter was committed to making things right again in the city; the general rule was that so long as everyone was on the same side, they should get along just fine.
It was a very easy going way of living, no pressure or stress over who people used to be or what they used to do. The words Walter spoke came naturally to him and it didn’t take long for Henry to believe they were on the same path.
“You better come with me then,” Henry said as he made up his mind about Walter and began the brief tour of the facility. “We’ve got a team heading out soon, it’d be good to have another man with them.”
And so, Walter followed. Henry Packham hadn’t really explained very much about what the group did or how they came to be situated underneath the city; he expected that a large chunk of where they operated was probably above ground, buildings across New York now repurposed and used however the occupants saw fit. He had no idea what sort of team he was being whisked off to join, nor what the team was about to go and do. Keeping pace though, Walter reminded himself why he was here and why he had left the force behind. He believed in what he was doing and he stood by it, ready for the next chapter of his life to begin.
“Walter,” Henry addressed him as he held open a door, leading out into a parking lot, surrounded on all four sides by very high walls[MP8] – a small entrance/exit carved into one of them for the cars to drive through. “Meet the team.”
As he stepped outside, suddenly very disoriented and wondering where in the city he was, Walter squinted into the sunlight. Ahead of him, standing beside a couple of old pick-up trucks stood six men and women of varying ages. They looked over at him and Henry, some giving a half nod, others narrowing their eyes. No one spoke, eyes all ending up on Henry as they waited for him to provide more of an explanation.
“Guys, this is Walter,” Henry continued. “He’s our newest recruit, but he’s got some experience in the field so I thought it’d be useful for him to tag along with you and see first-hand what it is we get up to. You’ve got space for one more, right?”
“Yeah, we’ll fit him in,” one man replied, stepping forward and holding out his hand for Walter to shake. “I’m William, most people call me Billy though. What field experience do you have?”
“Police,” Walter repl
ied somewhat nervously, taking Billy’s hand and shaking it. “NYPD up until a couple of days ago.”
“What precinct?” Another man interrupted, slamming the driver’s side door of one of the trucks and taking a step toward Walter. “I was with the one-eleventh until all of this kicked off.”
“Seventy-ninth.”
“Whoa!” The other former officer looked surprised. “You were right in the thick of it. Were you part of this team that’s been trying to,” he paused and held up his hands, forming air quotes for the next words he said, “fix the city?”
“Yeah,” Walter replied rather sheepishly. Henry hadn’t had a problem with what he’d been doing up until a couple of days ago, but he wasn’t sure that everyone else would react the same. “That’s why I left in the end,” he continued. “They started off with the best intentions, but I just couldn’t stand by and watch them impose all these stupid rules when there are so many people still suffering across the city. They’re not seeing the bigger picture; they’re not helping those who truly need to be helped.”
There was a pause after Walter’s explanation, the men and women looking at one another and exchanging glances about the new arrival. The other officer finally broke the silence, stepping forward with a grin on his face and slapping Walter on the back.
“You’ll fit in just fine here then, pal. Name’s Luc,” he introduced himself, “it’s nice to meet ya. Let’s get the last of this gear loaded up and get out on the road, I can fill you in a bit more on what we’re doing today. I doubt Henry’s told you very much.”
“Not exactly,” Walter admitted, looking over at Henry and shrugging.
“I’ll catch up with you later,” Henry grinned at him, walking back over to the door they’d both exited through. “Have a good one guys!”
With a wave he was gone, leaving Walter with the six strangers he was about to spend the day with. The last bit of loading only took a couple of minutes and before long Walter was in the cab of one of the trucks beside Luc, a few others in the bed of the truck as they drove slowly out of the parking lot and onto the road, leaving behind the strange new facility that Walter was now a part of.
Wipeout | Book 5 | Foul Play Page 7
