Rainwalkers

by Matt Ritter

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Will stepped back from the opening as to not be splashed with mud. Occasional clicks on the tin roof grew to a steady patter, then moments later a downpour was consuming the shed and camp beyond. He felt a burning sensation on the back of his neck and looked up to realize that he'd been dripped on through a small hole in the corrugated tin roof. The skin numbed as the water worked its way down his shirt collar. He moved away from the drip and let it thump the dusty ground while rubbing his neck.

  The hillside beyond the shed had grown black. The generators hummed their night song above the rain, a song that had lulled Will to sleep on so many miserable nights. He despised those generators and everything it took to run them. Lights came on, and an orange glow from the buildings illuminated the vertical lines of falling water.

  “When the soldiers return to their tents and there’s a break in the rain, we’ll go,” Will said.

  “How long?” Zach asked.

  Will crouched at the bottom of the shed opening and looked into the camp and the dark hillside beyond. “Should be less than an hour.”

  “Well, it’s dark enough. I should look around while it’s raining.”

  “Alright, but be careful not to be seen, and don’t stray far from the shed or this side of the camp. Stay out of the light.”

  “Okay,” Zach said as he buttoned his jacket.

  “Take this,” Will said, handing Zach his handgun. “Just in case.”

  Zach put the gun into his pocket and stepped out into the rain, his shoulders darkening with streaks of water. He turned back to Will, nodded, then faded like a ghost in the downpour.

  The wind calmed, and the rain fell steadily as Will crouched near the entrance of the shed. Just a few more minutes of waiting. He pushed the mask against his face and ignored the pain in the back of his head. Be patient, he told himself, knowing the time was soon. Through stinging watery eyes, he watched the rain form small pools on the ground outside the shed. The pools filled and ran together while he listened carefully, nervously waiting for Zach to return.

  When he did, not a shred of light remained from the day. The hillsides beyond the camp had receded into blackness, and the sky was a dark and shapeless mass, invisible except for the cold toxin it spits forth.

  “Did you see Helen?” Will asked, speaking through his mask as Zach ducked into the shed.

  “I saw Millard,” Zach said in a loud whisper while breathing hard. His eyes were wide and bloodshot. “He’s in the main building. I think I saw a child there, too.”

  “You saw her?” Will asked, excitedly grabbing Zach’s wet coat.

  “It was hard to see. All the windows were fogged up, but there was a child.”

  “A girl?”

  “I’m not sure,” Zach replied.

  His hair was soaked, and he stepped away from Will to shake off what water he could. Will stood in the darkness, waiting for more answers.

  “The camp seems deserted,” Zach whispered.

  “What else did you see?”

  “That’s all. I watched the mess hall for a while. Nothing happened.”

  “Were there any soldiers guarding the buildings?”

  “Not that I could tell. Everything seemed quiet.”

  Will and Zach stood shoulder to shoulder in the darkness at the opening of the shed, peering out. She’s here, Will thought.

  “See that covered walkway? Once we get to it, it’ll give us a covered path to the mess hall,” Will said, pointing.

  Will put his hands up to his gas mask and looked into the dark rain beyond the shed opening, beginning to feel nervous. “Once there’s a break in the rain, I’ll make a run for the walkway.”

  “It doesn’t seem to be letting up.”

  Will heard a strange noise of wind rustling through leaves. The pitch of the diesel generators changed, then the whole camp seemed to shudder and move at once. Sheets of rain were pushed horizontally on a blast wave, and the shed was pounded from all sides. Will braced himself against the wall, and the ground moved beneath their feet. The sky lit up flame orange, glowing momentarily under the dark murk above, then faded brown to black. The light was burned into Will’s eyes, and he blinked to clear the remnants. An instant later, a concussive boom the likes of which Will had never heard came to them from the direction of the border.

  “What was that?” Zach whispered loudly, clinging to the wall of the shed, his face frozen in horror, still upturned to the sky.

  “An explosion just over the border.”

  Zach scanned the area outside the shed. “Wow, that was close.”

  As Zach spoke, Will thought of the special mission he’d been told about for the children. Goosebumps rose on his entire body, and he was consumed with panic. Had Helen already been forced across the border in the rain? Was he too late?

  “We have to go now,” Will yelled, his voice cracking with fear.

  “But how? The rain? You’ll—.” Zach fell silent.

  Will raced to the back of the shed. “Tear open these sacks and dump the wheat out. I need three or four of them.”

  They worked on the sacks, straining to lift them and dump out their contents. The wheat berries fell onto the dirt floor in mounds and cones.

  “We have to go now.” Will’s voice was desperate under the mask. “We can’t wait for a break in the rain. Put the sacks over my head and back.”

  “They won’t keep you dry,” Zach said in disbelief and shock.

  “They’ll have to do. I’m not staying here, trapped in this shed while Helen is sent across the border.”

  A vision of bodies lying in a line in the mud flashed through Will’s mind. He saw them all clearly as Zach draped the burlap over his back, Zach’s younger brother, the children at the school in Gonzales, and Mary’s student whom they found next to the Salinas after the rain, all with their mouths open to the sky, rain pouring in. He suppressed the thoughts and moved to the entrance of the shed.

  He was bent over with the sacks draped over him. He didn’t need to see Zach’s face to know the worried look. “Pull them up over my head,” Will yelled at Zach, shouting over the noise of the rain.

  “We can wait, see if it dies down,” Zach said, pulling the burlap up onto Will’s bent back.

  The roar of the rain was steady on the shed, and drips fell across the open door.

  “We have to go now. There’s no time.”

  Will could hear Zach’s voice growing frantic. “I don’t think you should do this. You might not make it. We should wait.”

  Please let her be alive, Will thought. There was no time to think, no time to reconsider. Will took rapid forced breaths through his mask.

  “You lead the way. Make sure not to get ahead of me. Go straight to that covered walkway.” Will shoved Zach through the opening into the rain. “Go on,” he shouted.

  The instant he was in the rain, Will could feel it. On his first breath, his legs began to grow numb and weak. He wondered if the mask was working at all. The feeling hit him like a punch in the chest, and he held his breath. Rain fell off the burlap sacks over his head as he ran, watching Zach’s feet moving through the darkness and mud in front of him. Will felt like he was falling and was overcome by dizziness.

  Seconds after they’d left the shed, halfway across the opening between shelters, Will began to stumble. He willed his legs to move, but he was losing control of them. He tried to stay on his feet, but the wet burlap seemed to weigh too much. He watched the backs of Zach’s boots and the ground in front of him.

  Zach began to slow. Will bent lower, his vision drawing in, darkening on all sides. Closer and closer, the wet ground was coming up to meet him. He could no longer see as he felt the wetness on his forearms and chest. Push up, crawl. Crawl for Helen was the last thing Will thought.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Ben Harrison awoke with a gasp as if he'd been holding his breath. As he regained consciousness, he blinked rapidly to clear his stinging eyes. Still, there was on
ly the damp darkness of the inside of the hood. He felt groggy like he’d overslept. He tried to lift a hand to soothe his aching temple, but his arms were tied behind him.

  “You didn’t think I’d find out what you were up to?” The voice of the Valley Manager was cold and emotionless and close to Ben. “Remove the hood.”

  The material was gripped from above and yanked from Ben’s head. He shut his eyes against the brilliance of the overhead lights. Upon opening them, he saw the twisted face of the Valley Manager seated across from him. A stout soldier with a proud, smug look stood behind the Manager, holding the hood in one hand. A sickening knot formed in Ben’s stomach, cutting through his grogginess. He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious.

  “Give us the room,” the Valley Manager said to the soldier without turning to him.

  After the door was closed, the Manager stared at Ben, occasionally running a nervous finger over the back of his hand. Neither man spoke. Ben’s head was throbbing, and he thought for a moment that he may throw up. He turned his face to avoid the stink of the Valley Manager’s breath.

  “How long have we worked together?” asked the Manager, then instantly answered his own question. “Fourteen years, maybe fifteen. Everything we’ve done for this Valley. We’ve built so much. All those sacrifices.” He fell silent again, then asked, “You want to throw that all away?”

  Ben didn’t respond.

  “What do you have to say for yourself, traitor?”

  For a long time, Ben watched the spittle glistening in the corners of the Manager’s mouth and the sepia circles under his eyes. In the light of the single bulb above them, the Manager’s head was skeletal.

  Finally, Ben asked, “Where are Mary and the children?”

  “You answer my questions, not the other way around,” the Manager screamed at him, losing what little control he had over his temper.

  Ben looked around the empty room. “This has to be stopped.” His words came out in a croaked whisper as if they were his first in years.

  “This has to be stopped?” the Manager yelled, trying to conjure up a laugh, but failing. “Stopped? Nothing’s going to be stopped.” He was now shouting at full volume. “We have to defend our people and our way of life in this Valley, whatever the cost. Have you forgotten that? We’re on the verge of being destroyed.”

  “No, we aren’t,” Ben said calmly.

  “I’m not going to have this conversation with you. You’re a traitor. You’ve conspired to ruin this Valley, and for that, you will soon die.”

  The words turned Ben’s blood to ice. He'd lost track of time, of his plan. He sucked in a breath through his teeth and looked at his long-time colleague with disgust. Ben’s voice turned harsh. “You’re no longer running this Valley properly. You haven’t been for some time.”

  A slight smile came across the Manager’s face as if he’d won a game. He looked down at Ben in his chair, arms tied back, sweat glistening on his brow, and scoffed.

  “The girl’s father will be captured and killed soon. Who else have you conspired with? I need the names of all the traitors.”

  “Where are Mary and the children?”

  “You will never see any of them again. You won’t leave this room again.” The corners of the Manager’s mouth curled. “Each of those children is a powerful weapon against our enemies. They each have an important mission to carry out.”

  The Manager answered Ben’s look of disdain with one that could only be interpreted as pure hate. “How many years have you been trying to fix the rain? How many?” he yelled. “I should have replaced you long ago. I never ran short of patience with your incompetence. And what thanks do I get? Your betrayal.” The Manager’s brow creased as he attempted a look of sorrow.

  “The violence must end,” Ben said.

  The Valley Manager grew calm. “The violence is what makes us Valley people,” he said, his voice hissing. “It’s what makes us work. Without the fear, there would be chaos.”

  Ben shook his head. “We’re not who we used to be. Look around. All the soldiers left are barely teenagers. And now, using children? You’ve led us astray.”

  The Manager’s face became rigid as if he’d made some final decision. He rose from his chair.

  Ben scanned the room. There were no windows to the outside. His watch had been taken while he was unconscious. He had no way of knowing the time. He looked up at the Manager and said, “It’ll be over soon.”

  The Manager pursed his lips and regarded Ben coolly. “It’ll be over when I say it’s over.”

  He stepped back and knocked on the door behind him. It swung open, and the hulking soldier stepped into the cell, ducking as he entered. His poorly fitting uniform gave him a thuggish appearance, jacket too tight over his massively rounded chest and pants too short. He looked down at Ben tied to his chair, and a smug expression of pleasure flickered across his face.

  The soldier turned to the Manager. “Sir?”

  “We need to deal with this traitor.” In a strained and inflectionless voice he said, “Do it in a way that doesn’t make a mess.”

  Ben panicked, and he struggled against his restraints as the soldier came around behind him, gripped his neck, and pulled him back firmly against his chest. Ben’s fingers clawed against the chair, the zip ties dug into his wrists, and breathy, ragged gasps escaped his throat. The soldier squeezed harder on Ben’s windpipe, cutting his air off.

  The Manager turned away. Facing the door, he said, “Goodbye, Ben.”

  Ben’s face turned bright red, and his eyes bulged as he thrashed in his chair. White lines crossed his field of vision. His sight darkened, and his movements slowed.

  The sound of boots pounding in the hallway came through the open door, then two soldiers ran into the cell.

  “Stop,” a winded soldier yelled. “Sir, you need to come to the front of the building.”

  The soldier let up on Ben’s neck, and his lungs pulled in a hoarse breath. Ben let out a scream.

  “Damn it,” the Manager said under his breath. He looked back at Ben in disgust. “You stay here and watch this traitor,” he commanded the large soldier.

  After the Valley Manager had stalked impatiently from the room, Ben sat tied to his chair, panting loudly. His eyes watered, and drool was on his chin. He focused on the two soldiers left standing at the door of the cell. The large soldier remained behind him with a heavy hand on his shoulder.

  “What were your orders?” Ben yelled, his voice weak and raspy.

  The soldiers stared wide-eyed at him, not answering.

  “What were your orders?” Ben repeated. “Your commanding officer told you to take me out to the front of the building with the Valley Manager, didn’t he?”

  One of the two soldiers stuttered, “Yes, sir, but, but the Manager told him to keep you here. To watch you.”

  “That won’t do,” Ben said sternly. “I’m the Valley Science Minister. You’ll follow your orders. Do as you’ve been told by your commanding officer.”

  The soldiers hesitated, then looked at each other.

  “Do as you were commanded by Colonel Adams,” Ben yelled in a gravelly voice. “Do it now.”

  One of the soldiers lifted his rifle to the soldier standing behind Ben.

  “Stand back away from the Minister,” he commanded.

  The large soldier scoffed, removed his hand from Ben’s shoulder, and stepped aside. “Fine, take him,” he said.

  The soldier lifted Ben from the chair, and with his arms still aching and zip-tied behind him, Ben stumbled out into the hallway. He peered back through the door into the cell where the burly soldier was still standing behind the chair. The light from above cast dark shadows over his proud brow into the deep pocket of his eyes.

  “Which way to the front?” Ben asked as the two soldiers came out behind him.

  “There,” one of the soldiers said, pointing.

  At the end of a dark hall, they came through a pair of closed doors, which Ben pushed o
pen with his shoulder. When he came out of the entrance of the building, he was instantly disoriented. It was dark outside, yet no rain was falling. A thick fog surrounded the building, and the air was wet and smelled faintly of diesel exhaust. His throat felt hot and swollen, and he knew his adrenaline was the only thing keeping it from aching.

  The Valley Manager was standing next to Colonel Adams and Dick Nixon. The three men were surrounded by a wide circle of UP officers.

  When the Manager saw Ben come out, he shouted, “What is this?”

  Ben looked at Dick, who was studying him carefully, then to Colonel Adams.

  “It’s over,” Ben said.

  “You traitor,” the Manager said, bearing his teeth. He glared at the men around him, turning, making brief and uncomfortable eye contact with each. “You’re all traitors,” he screamed, his voice loud and cracking. He turned to Colonel Adams. “And you, what are you going to do?”

  “I’m relieving you of your command,” Colonel Adams said. “As of this moment, you’re no longer the Manager.”

  “A coup? Are you joking?”

  “This isn’t a coup. We’re just ending your tenure as Valley Manager.”

  “No, you’re not,” the Manager yelled, each word coming after a long pause. The Manager turned in a circle. “Who’s with me? Who’s loyal to the Valley? Seize these three men.”

  Nobody moved. The soldiers looked at the ground in front of them.

  Colonel Adams nodded to some of his men, two of whom stepped toward the Manager. The Manager pointed an accusatory finger. “Don’t touch me.” They looked at the colonel, who nodded again.

  While the Manager continued to shout, the two soldiers wrapped up his weak arms and led him to the back of one of the many military trucks now parked outside the holding facility.

  “This isn’t over,” was the last thing they heard the Manager yell, muffled by the closing of the doors on the truck.

  Colonel Adams nodded to another soldier who came around behind Ben and clipped the zip-ties off him. Ben brought his hands up to his sore neck to survey the damage. He took several deep breaths through his nose and instantly noticed the smell in the air. He turned to Dick and asked excitedly, “Did you get the bottle to the plane?”