by Matt Ritter
“And send Captain Wilson in on your way out,” the Manager said.
Millard stopped. He shook his head in disdain and disappointment. “Get up and get him yourself,” he said as he walked out of the office.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
As the door to Will Taft's cell closed behind him, Ben Harrison could think of nothing but returning to Mary and the children. His impatience to see her again surprised him. He looked down at the capped vial of Will’s blood in his hand and knew he had a great deal of lab work ahead. The blood is the key, but how? he thought, excitement tainted with dread. His medical bag swung against his knee, and he could feel his heart reverberating with slight thumps against the hollowness of his throat. Outside, the rain still refused to stop.
He rounded a corner into the hallway where Mary and the children were being held. Ben slipped the vial into his pocket.
“Open the door,” he commanded to the young soldier standing guard in the hallway.
He stepped inside and scanned the room. Helen and Jimmy were gone, and Mary sat on the couch with her head buried deeply in her hands.
When she heard him enter the room, she looked up at him in a way that made his heart sink. Her face was red, and her bruised eyes were watery and irritated. Her swollen face was a sheet of sadness and rage. She rose, crossed the room, and lifted a fist to pound him on the chest.
“What did you tell them?” she screamed.
Ben dropped his medical bag.
“I thought you were going to help us.” Mary was now crying and hitting him weakly on his chest.
“What are you talking about? Where are the children?” Ben asked, holding her forearms.
“He came for them.” Mary looked wildly around the room, then to the door, as if something terrible may come through it.
“Who came for them?”
“The captain. Wilson.”
Ben’s jaw grew tight. He could feel himself begin to sweat as an angry heat flushed through his body. “Where did he take them?” he asked sternly.
“He came with another soldier, made sure they had their jackets and left with them. He wouldn’t tell me where they were going. I thought you were going to stop this?”
Ben let go of Mary’s wrists and clenched his fists. “I was supposed to have more time.”
Mary shook her head, stepped back away from him, and sat back down. “Poor Jimmy has no idea what’s going on. They were hurting him, pulling on him. He didn’t want to leave. He was so scared.” Mary began to cry.
Ben went to her on the couch and kneeled in front of her.
“Mary, look at me. I had no idea about any of this. I’ll find the children. Please believe me, Mary. We’ll get them back.”
Mary sat sobbing and didn’t look up at him. “You’re all the same,” she cried quietly.
Ben stood, looked down at Mary in silence, then turned stiffly and picked up his medical bag. He was consumed with rage. He stepped out of the door, into the hallway, and ran to the elevator.
CHAPTER FORTY
Ben was panting, and his fists were clenched when he reached the Manager’s office. He dropped his medical bag in the hallway and pounded on the half-open door.
The Manager looked up as if he were expecting Ben, then went back to some papers he was signing. Ben waited for him to speak.
“Sit down,” the Manager said, nodding to the empty chair across the desk.
Ben didn’t move. He wanted to jump over the desk and strangle him. He continued to stare coldly at the Manager as he went over his remaining papers. He saw the knife-like letter opener on the Manager’s desk, the tiny white mound of spittle accumulating in the corner of the Manager’s mouth, and the bright red edges of his fingernails as he worked an overly fat pen across a piece of paper.
“Sit down, Ben,” the Manager repeated in a stern voice. “I have bad news.”
“Where are the children?” Ben interrupted.
The Manager looked up and studied Ben, apparently surprised that he was still standing. He pushed himself back away from his desk, then swiveled in his chair to the wide window behind him. The light was drawing down under the clouds in the west. Afternoon thunder trundled along the unseen Valley walls. The unceasing rain had morphed into a foul mist.
“It still hasn’t stopped. Almost two full days now,” the Manager said while staring out the window.
“Where are the children?” Ben repeated.
“We’ll get to that. First, you need to know something.”
“What is it?” Ben asked, his jaw still clenched, his neck corded.
“A large number of people died in the rain yesterday.”
“How many?”
“Hundreds, maybe. We still don’t have the numbers.”
“Where? How did they get caught out in it?” Ben asked.
“They didn’t.” The Manager rose from his chair, staring at Ben almost as if he was studying his reaction. He turned to the window on the city and continued, “They were in their houses in the Bolsa Knolls Sector when a heavy rain started. The entire sector went quiet. A convoy reported back about the incident about an hour ago.”
The Manager turned from the window and approached Ben. “The convoy reported that none of those people were wet. They died in their houses.”
“What?” Ben asked, stunned. He pressed his fist to his mouth, winced, and stared out at the murky city beyond the glass. His mind raced. “This is what I feared would happen.”
“Damn it, Ben. What have you been doing?” the Manager asked, his eyebrows lowered, his lips tucked. “This is going to kill us all.”
Ben was panicked. “It’s escalating. I’m not sure how much time we have now.”
The Manager stared at Ben, looking disgusted. “Our Valley will be wide open for the taking if we don’t do something soon.”
“Were there any survivors in Bolsa Knolls?”
“I don’t know yet.” The Manager sat back down behind his desk and began to nervously rub the edge of his forefinger.
Ben knew the Manager blamed him for the rain, and that only made him angrier. “What have you done with the children? Their teacher said Wilson came for them.”
“He’s moving them to the border.”
Ben shook his head. “You told me I had more time for tests, that I would have at least a week with them,” he said, his voice gaining in volume.
“There’s no more time for your tests,” the Manager protested loudly, suddenly angry. “I never promised you anything. If we don’t use those children now, the Benicians will take our Valley easily. I’ve given the order. It’s done.”
Ben put his hand to his forehead and looked at the floor. He blinked, his thoughts scrambling. The Valley Manager bloodied yet another hangnail. Ben could smell his sour breath.
“Is the captain going to keep Helen and Jimmy safe during their mission?” Ben finally asked.
The Manager winced slightly, then stared at Ben.
“Do you remember when we vowed to give everything to defend this Valley from our enemies? Remember when we promised that again at the beginning of our time in the Administration?” the Manager asked.
“Yes,” Ben replied.
“We’re not the only ones who have to sacrifice for this Valley. It’s only through the blood of our people that the whole Valley won’t perish.” The Manager stared at Ben.
“What are you talking about?”
“They won’t be returning from their mission,” the Manager said, his voice stiff and cold.
A chill moved along Ben’s spine. “What have you ordered Wilson to do with them?”
“They’ll be using their special gifts to carry something through the rain that our enemies won’t see coming. We’ll strike a blow at the heart of their border encampment and another in their city.” The Valley Manager got more excited as he spoke. “This will be the change we need. The break from this war we’ve been waiting for.”
“How could you do this?” Ben asked, raising his voice agai
n.
“These are military issues. Issues of Valley security.”
Ben tried to calm himself, to not expose any emotion to the Manager. “What about the blood? It was our opportunity to study how it could stop the rain.”
“You’ll have to make do with the younger children. The Greenfield boys are still here. We have a different mission for them. Now you have the father’s blood as well. What else do you need?”
Ben looked at the Valley Manager not knowing how to answer. After a moment, the Manager nodded and said, “You’re free to go now. Get back to the lab. Go do your job, and I’ll do mine. Why don’t you spend less effort worrying about those children and more time trying to fix the rain?”
Ben turned toward the office door, then stopped at the window. The rain had escalated again and was coming in sheets from the remaining reef of light in the western sky.
“You need to make something work, Ben,” the Manager said calmly. “Before it kills all of us.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder. The resistance is spreading like a virus, our enemies are at our borders, and now even the air is becoming toxic.”
Ben stared out the window. Wide drops of water pummeled the outside of the glass. Suddenly, something clicked in his brain. He slowly faced the Manager. “What did you say just then?” he asked.
“When?”
“Repeat what you just said.”
“I said the air is toxic.”
“No before that, just before that,” Ben said, getting excited.
The Valley Manager looked confused. “I said the resistance is spreading in this Valley like a virus.”
Ben snapped his fingers. “That’s it! That’s what I’ve been missing.”
“What are you talking about?” the Manager asked.
Ben looked at the Manager as if he just realized he was standing there. He felt the vial of Will Taft’s blood in his pocket. “I have to get to the lab immediately.”
With that, Ben rushed into the hallway, leaving the Valley Manager to stand in the doorway of his office.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Will waited impatiently on the couch in his cell. For what, he wasn’t sure. Could he trust the science minister? He didn’t know, but he had the scalpel in his pocket as evidence of his commitment. His thumb rubbed against the smooth metal handle. He didn’t know what time of day it was but based on his exhaustion it was likely nighttime.
A pound came on the door, and Will heard the muffled voice of a soldier from the other side. “Move to the back wall of the room.”
Will rose from the couch and stepped away from the door, gripping the scalpel tightly. The door was unlocked and opened halfway. A meal tray was slid on the floor into the room, then the door was slammed shut. Will saw only the light blue sleeve of a UP soldier’s uniform.
“The light will go out in twenty minutes. Eat,” said the voice behind the door.
Will moved over to the tray of food. Although it didn’t look appetizing, nor recognizable, he was hungry. Two piles sat on the tray, one tasting vaguely of cornmeal polenta and the other, some kind of fruit paste, gritty like pear, but with the flavor of a turnip. Somewhere in the blandness of the fruit pile, however faint, was a flavor reminiscent of the apple pies he and Zach had found in the broken-down Soledad grocery store. Will closed his eyes and breathed in deep, trying to recapture that sensation, but nothing came.
The lights went out soon after he was done eating, and the room fell nearly black save a faint strip of gray light flaring across the floor from under the door. He drifted off to sleep on the couch, still holding the scalpel. In the night, dreams of Helen fluttered and flashed like a broken movie reel. Images of her alone in the rain calling to him disturbed his sleep and blended with the darkness of the room in his brief waking moments.
At some point in the night, he awoke and went to the corner sink and drank. The water smelled of rotten eggs and tingled on his throat. He laid back down on the couch and thought of Zach. What had become of him in the rain outside Dick Nixon’s apartment? Was he still on the streets of Salinas City? Had he been captured? Eventually, Will drifted off to sleep again until, some unknown number of hours later, the lights flickered, then flared on overhead, and the room was once again filled with stark light.
He sat up on the couch rubbing his eyes, trying to remember the content of the dreams, to get a grip on all the thoughts that had come to him so clearly in the night, but he couldn’t. All that remained of those vivid images were bitter feelings of helplessness and separation from his daughter.
He rose and stretched his sore muscles. He had several darkening bruises along his side and neck. Finally, he heard steps in the hallway, then muffled voices. A knock came on the door before it swung open slowly. Will stood rigidly gripping the blade in his pocket.
The science minister peaked through the open door, saw Will then came in and closed it behind him.
“Bad news,” Ben whispered. A bleak expression spread across his face. “Your daughter’s been moved to the border.”
Will felt his face flush hot and his fist clench. “When?” he asked in a loud whisper.
“They left last night.”
“What do you mean, they?”
“Jimmy, the other child from the school. Captain Wilson brought them.”
At the mention of the captain’s name, Will could feel himself begin to sweat. He paced back and forth looking around the room.
“Why the border?” Will asked, suddenly feeling disconnected from Helen and trapped. He looked around the room, panicked. The thought of his daughter being sent to that grim and embattled crossing gave Will a chill along his spine.
Will faced Ben, waiting for a response, but none came. Finally, Ben made eye contact with Will and whispered, choosing his words carefully. “Your daughter is in grave danger.”
Will felt the temperature in the cell go up by ten degrees instantly. The walls seemed closer, the ceiling pressing down on him. “I need to get out of here. You have to help me.”
“I’m going to.” Ben was wide-eyed and frantic.
“Now?”
“Yes. But you’ll need a vehicle and gas mask to get to the border. You won’t survive long out there without one. I’m working on how to make that happen. The rain hasn’t stopped in three days.”
“Is it getting worse?”
“Yes, and quickly. People are dying without getting wet. I don’t know how bad it is throughout the Valley, but it’s escalated in parts of Salinas City.”
Will noticed that Ben seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, distracted, looking at the wall behind Will. Finally, Ben said, “I may have a solution. It’s a long shot, but it could work.” He looked up at Will, and there was a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. “I worked through the night. It’s our only chance. The Valley’s only chance.”
Will put his hand back into his pocket and felt the blade. “I’m ready when you are.”
The science minister took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. He put his hand to his mouth and seemed to be lost in thought.
“What do we do now?” Will whispered loudly. “How do we get out of here?”
“I’ll get what you need ready, then come back for you. One more question about Helen. Do you ever remember her getting a bad fever or flu growing up?”
“Maybe once when she first went to school,” Will said impatiently. “Why do you ask?”
Ben’s expression shifted, his eyes widened. “Her blood may protect her from the rain, but it’s not so much her blood as what’s infected her blood. Last night I was able to—”
A loud pound on the door interrupted Ben. It swung in violently. Millard Fillmore slinked through the door with his gun raised at Will’s chest. He turned the gun on Ben, who instinctively put his hands up, then back to Will.
“You,” Millard said to Ben. “What are you doing in here?”
Ben’s mouth hung open. Finally, he stuttered, “I, I was talking to the pri
soner about his blood tests and his daughter.”
Millard squinted and watched Ben with skepticism and contempt. He rolled a frayed toothpick in his mouth.
“You done?” Millard asked Ben with his gun still on Will.
“I guess so,” Ben said, caught off guard.
“Go on then. I’m sure you have better things to do. Hero boy here is due for another trip upvalley.”
Will watched as Ben stood frozen, unmoving. Millard shifted, raising the gun from Will’s chest to his head while his heavy leather jacket squeaked.
“Go on,” Millard repeated.
Ben’s eyes met Will’s.
“I, I need more of his blood,” Ben stuttered, his voice wavering. “You can’t take him yet. You’ll have to come back later.”
Millard turned from Will to Ben, a pinched expression of disbelief coming across his face. Will saw Ben’s chest heaving as he breathed.
Millard moved toward Ben slowly and purposefully as Ben backed up against the cell wall. When he was right up on him, breathing in his face, Millard raised his gun to Ben’s neck. Ben pulled his head back away from Millard, looking to the side. Millard leaned in, pressing his body against Ben’s. He was so close that the toothpick in his mouth touched Ben’s cheek.
“You need more blood, huh?” Millard asked in a clear sarcastic tone.
Ben didn’t respond. He was frozen.
“Maybe you could use your own.” Millard scoffed at his own joke as he pressed the gun harder into Ben’s neck, pushing his head harder against the wall. Millard waited, seemingly studying the side of Ben’s head, then said, “You shouldn’t be in here, science man. You’re gonna end up gettin’ hurt.”
He backed away from Ben and a smile crossed his face. Ben raised his hands, palms facing Millard, his eyes wide and watery under his glasses.
“Go on now,” Millard said, motioning to the door with the gun. “There’s nothing more here for you.”
Ben stepped carefully around Millard, his hands still raised. Will saw him glance back, then disappear into the hallway.
Millard turned to Will, reached into his long coat, and threw a pair of handcuffs onto the linoleum in front of Will. They slid across the floor and clanked to a stop against Will’s boots. “You know the drill. Put ‘em on.”
