by Mark Kelly
Lucia handed the box back to her. “Here, feed your children. We will go elsewhere.”
“Hey, we had a deal,” the man said, clutching the moonshine to his chest.
Baker snatched the jars back. “Not anymore.”
The man scowled angrily at Lucia. She ignored him and turned to Baker. “Let’s go and see about crossing the river.”
He hesitated. “We need supplies. We should take advantage of the market while we’re here. What about that?” he said, looking less than thrilled as he nodded towards what was on the table.
She widened her eyes in astonishment. “They are too bulky. Besides, do you know how to cook a pumpkin? Because I do not, and I do not intend to learn.”
But he was right. They should take advantage of the market while they had the opportunity. She twisted her head, scanning the nearby stalls. It was late in the day and most of the tables had little left on them. Seeing nothing, she glanced at the wheelbarrow full of corn.
“Is that for eating?”
“Of course,” the man huffed.
“Shut up. I was not talking to you. How did you prepare it?” Lucia asked the old woman.
“It’s been soaked in ash-water.”
“Good. We will take it.”
“I don’t want your booze,” the old woman said, nodding towards the jars in Baker’s hands.
“We will pay in gold,” Lucia replied.
Baker stared at her. “You’re kidding, right? You’re not really going to trade our gold for corn, are you?”
“You are the one who said we needed supplies. This is corn that has been soaked in water with wood ash added to it. There are many things we can make with it—pupusas, tortillas, even atole.”
“Does soaking it in ash-water make it magical? If we plant it, will a giant cornstalk grow into the sky?” Baker said sarcastically.
Lucia didn’t know what he was talking about. Perhaps he was joking, but the tone in his voice irritated her. “Did they not teach you anything useful in soldier school? When corn is soaked in ash-water, it is better for you…more healthy. If you do not do this, and you eat a lot of corn, you will become sick.”
“Really?”
His expression made her feel good. She knew something he didn’t. “Yes, of course.”
The old woman nodded. “She’s right. It’s also easier to grind. How much of it do you want?”
“All of it.”
“All of it?” Baker and the old woman said together with matching looks of surprise.
Lucia nodded. “And I will need to borrow the wheelbarrow too.” She reached into her jeans and dug around in her pockets until she felt one of the slivers of gold. There were only a few left. She pulled one out and handed it to the old woman. “Is this enough?”
The old woman stared at the scrap of gold in Lucia’s palm. Too stunned to speak, she nodded mutely and reached under the table for a handful of burlap bags. “Put the corn in this and then cover it with a tarp to keep it dry.”
“Here, be useful,” Lucia said, handing the bags to Baker. “We will put this in the trailer and see about crossing the river.” Then she lifted the wheelbarrow up by its handles and spoke to the old woman. “I will bring this back when I am done.”
16
How much for ticket?
They packed the corn in the trailer, returned the wheelbarrow, and then walked across the parking lot to a spot where they could take a closer look at the long line in front of the Gatekeeper’s stall.
While they watched, the queue to cross the river grew in length. For every person who passed through the gates, two more joined the end of the line. Most of the travellers were on foot and carried backpacks, but a few stood beside bicycles with panniers that were as overloaded as the saddlebags on Lucia and Baker’s motorcycles.
Baker pointed to a young woman behind the table. The woman—a girl, really—was older than Saanvi but younger than Emma. Slim with long black hair braided in a single plait, she wrote in a notebook as she processed the people in line.
“She must be the Gatekeeper,” Baker said as the girl raised her hand and beckoned to the person standing at the front of the line.
An old man stepped forward and emptied his knapsack onto the table. He pushed the contents—three tins of food, a half-used roll of toilet paper and a few small items towards the girl. She studied the goods for a moment before placing the food into a cardboard box on the ground beside her. Then she pushed the rest of the items back to the old man and handed him a piece of paper.
He hurriedly stuffed what she had returned into his knapsack. At the last minute, as he was about to walk away, she grabbed a tin of food from the cardboard box and handed it back to him. When he thanked her, she gave him a tight smile and motioned him on his way.
The old man hobbled to the fence. He handed the piece of paper to a guard who opened the gate and allowed him to pass. A minute later, the old man disappeared into the building attached to the dam.
Baker chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s the end of the world and I still can’t escape toll roads, but at least it won’t cost much.”
An hour later it was their turn. The girl at the table looked up as they approached. She stared at Lucia’s holster for a split-second and then saw Baker was armed as well. She gave the guards at the gate a sideways look, ensuring they were paying attention to the newcomers.
“We want to cross the river. How much for us and the bikes?” Baker asked, pointing to the motorcycles and trailer parked off to the side.
“With the bikes and trailer, it’ll be tight inside and it’ll cost you extra,” the girl replied.
Smirking, Lucia elbowed Baker. “Won’t cost much, eh?”
Baker ignored her and asked the girl, “How much extra?”
“Depends.”
“Depends on what?”
The girl sat back in her chair and smiled at him. “It depends on what you’ve got.”
“How about just telling me what it will cost?” he said, frowning.
“How about just telling me what you brought to trade?” she shot back at him.
“We have plenty of things to trade, but it’s all in the trailer,” he said in a tight voice.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know,” he replied, gritting his teeth. “Like I said, everything we have is in the trailer.”
Oh, for God's sake, Lucia thought, ready to strangle them both. “I will get the motorcycle with the trailer and drive it here. Then we will decide on what the fee is and we will pay and cross the river. Is that acceptable?” When she scowled at them, they both nodded.
She stomped across the parking lot, returning with Baker’s motorcycle and the attached trailer. She lifted the tarp and studied the trailer’s contents as she looked for items to trade. Spotting a gallon-sized jug of biodiesel, she picked it up.
Baker shook his head. “No—we need it for the bikes. All of it.”
Lucia put it back. She showed the girl the smaller items they had brought to trade, but received a resounding ‘NO’. At the back of the trailer were the boxes of moonshine Abrams had insisted they take because, as he had said, it’s like liquid gold.
Lucia lifted a jar out.
“Not interested,” the girl said with a sneer that matched the old woman’s.
Nearly out of items—and patience, Lucia reached into her pocket and felt the slivers of gold. She’d already used up three of the eight pieces and all she had to show for it was the corn. Unwilling to give up any more gold, she lifted one of the burlap bags and said, “It’s ash-washed corn. Very good for you.”
The girl appeared bemused. She shook her head. “Already have plenty of that, and it’s ash-washed too. Look, you’re holding up the line. Why don’t you go and scavenge and then come back when you have something to trade.”
“We have many things to trade,” Lucia said sharply, “but none of it is good enough for you. Why have you let others through in ex
change for nothing more than a few trinkets but you refuse to accept anything we offer?”
“They had little. You have lots,” the girl said in a condescending voice. “All you need to do is show me something I need. It isn’t rocket science you know.” At that moment, she sounded and even looked a little like Emma.
Furious now, Lucia began to grab items from a box in the trailer. “There’s this,” she said, slamming a revolver onto the tabletop. “And this…and this…and this.” In less than a minute, she had covered the table with the weapons they had taken from the bikers at the truck-stop. “Tell me there is nothing here you want,” she snarled at the girl.
The girl’s eyes darted between Lucia and the guns. She picked up the revolver and studied it. It was tarnished and in need of a good cleaning. “Maybe this one,” she said in a casual voice, “but it probably doesn’t work.”
Lucia snatched the gun from the girl’s hands, pointed it into the air and pulled the trigger. At the crack of the gunshot, everyone around them dropped to the ground.
“It works,” Lucia said, placing the gun back on the table.
“Jesus…” Baker muttered. “You said you’d warn me before you went and did something like that again.”
“I did not know I was going to do it until I did it,” Lucia replied. “How can I warn you about something that I do not know I am going to do?”
The guards from the gate ran towards them. Baker raised his hands in the air and hissed at Lucia to do the same. She refused.
“It’s okay,” the girl said, waving the guards off while she glared at Lucia. “She was just showing me the gun works.”
Baker lowered his hands and said, “Look, you’ve seen everything we have. There must be something here that would cover the cost of crossing.”
The girl pointed to the revolver and a sawed-off shotgun. “Maybe those two.”
“Is that a maybe, or a yes?” Lucia snapped.
“It’s a yes, but I need extra ammo for both or there is no deal.”
“Then there is no deal,” Lucia said, tired of the discussion. She started moving items in the trailer to make room for the weapons as she put them back. As she did, she lifted the walking stick Mei had given her and placed it aside.
“Where did you get that?” the girl shouted, jumping to her feet. “That belongs to my grandfather.”
Lucia stared at her, studying the girl, and only now seeing the resemblance to Michael Otetiani. “Your grandfather? Are you Kateri?” she asked.
The girl’s eyes narrowed. “Do I know you?”
“My name is Lucia. We have never met, but I know you. Your brother helped me and the people I was traveling with escape to Canada.”
“My brother has helped a lot of people,” Kateri said cautiously.
“You were very sick when we first arrived at the reserve,” Lucia continued. “He helped us cross the river after you were cured.”
Kateri became excited as she realized what Lucia was talking about. She stood and searched the crowd, her eyes frantically darting from one face to another.
“Are Dr. Ling and Professor Simmons with you? What about Saanvi? I want to meet them and say thank you. I never had the chance before you left.”
Lucia shook her head.
Kateri’s face sank. “Are they—”
“No, they are alive,” Lucia said, anticipating what Kateri was about to say. “Tony is working on a—”
Baker grabbed her arm. “Not here.”
She glanced over his shoulder. The people in line behind them had moved forward and were straining to overhear the conversation.
“You have to tell me all about them…about everything. My brother talks about you guys all the time. He’ll freak out when he sees you,” Kateri said, looking more like a teenager than the serious young business woman from a few minutes earlier. She called the guards over. “Passage across the river is closed for the day. Tell them we’ll open again tomorrow morning.”
“Hurry,” she said to Lucia and Baker. “Get your stuff and I’ll take you across myself.”
“What about that,” Baker asked, pointing to the revolver that was still on the table.
Kateri waved it off. “You keep it. We have lots.”
“Told you it would be cheap to cross,” he said to Lucia.
She punched him in the arm.
“This way,” Kateri shouted and hopped on a rickety ten-speed bicycle. They followed her across the parking lot and up the loading dock ramp to the building connected to the dam. The guard at the door appeared surprised to see her. He unclipped a small portable radio from his hip and spoke into it. Seconds later, he nodded.
“We need to be quick,” Kateri said to Baker and Lucia. “There’s no one coming the other way so there will be room for your motorcycles and trailer.”
Lucia glanced over her shoulder at the now closed gate. The guards were struggling to keep the angry crowd under control. “Where did all those people come from and why do they wish to cross the river?” she asked Kateri.
“Most of them are from Montreal,” Kateri replied. “It’s about seventy-five miles from here. They’re going south to escape winter, but if you don’t have a boat, this is the only way across. Come on, let’s go,” she said, leading them into the building.
The inside of the electrical generating station was filled with machinery. Gigantic rolls of thick multi-colored copper wire as thick as Lucia’s wrist were lined up against a wall like huge spindles of thread waiting for the world’s tallest seamstress. Massive cast-iron pipes large enough to swallow a dozen men ran along the walls and disappeared into the floor. At the junction of the pipes were steel shut-off valves resembling a captain’s wheel from a nineteenth century sailing ship. The wheels were so large, Lucia imagined it would take two people, one on each side, to spin them.
They followed Kateri down a gentle slope into the innards of the dam. Entering the lower recesses was like stepping into an entirely different world. It was cool and damp. The faint smell of burnt grease and oil from the massive turbines filled the air. Even above the noise of her engine, Lucia could hear the thunder of thousands of gallons of water rushing past her every second.
The deeper they went, the darker it got. Light came from the headlamps on their motorcycles and kerosene lanterns hanging from the walls and ceiling. The lanterns were close enough to each other to ensure they were never completely in the dark.
At the lowest level, the walls narrowed to the point where only a couple of inches separated the edges of Baker’s trailer from the concrete. It is like being in a coffin, Lucia thought, suddenly wishing she was back outside in the open. Then, just as quickly, she felt a change in the slope. They were going up. They had passed the half-way point.
When they emerged from the dam, they entered another building almost identical to the one on the other side of the river. Lucia slowed to a stop and squinted as her eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight that shone through a set of windows high up near the ceiling. By the time her vision had returned to normal, Baker and Kateri were on the other side of the hanger-sized building.
She caught up to them as Kateri waved to a man standing next to an industrial-sized garage door. He pulled down on a metal chain and the door opened. As soon as the door was high enough for her to pedal beneath it, Kateri pushed off with her foot and coasted down the loading dock ramp. At the bottom of the ramp, she jumped off her bike, threw it against a concrete retaining wall, and climbed into a pickup truck.
“Follow me,” she shouted through the pickup truck’s open window. “My brother is at the ship. It’s twenty-minutes from here.”
“At the ship?”
Baker looked at Lucia who shrugged. “I do not know any more than you,” she replied, “but if we follow her instead of standing around talking, we will find out.”
“Good idea,” he said with a wink. “See you there.”
Lucia smiled as he raced away. With the trailer behind him, he didn’t have a chance. She counte
d to ten, notched her bike into gear, and chased after him.
He was half a mile down the road when she caught up to him as he slowed to pass through a gate. The sign on the grass by the gate’s guardhouse read New York Power Authority. Smiling, she raced past him and in her rearview mirror, saw him frown.
The road meandered through a small state park lining the shores of the river. Lucia slowed to take a sharp curve. Up ahead, she saw a narrow man-made canal off to the right and nearly drove off the road when she saw what Kateri had parked beside.
17
Where did you find that?
Baker arrived a few minutes later. He climbed off his bike with a look of utter amazement. Lucia knew exactly how he felt.
Its name was Petrolia Desgagnes, and it was the biggest ship she had ever seen. Nearly the length of two football fields, it completely filled the small canal it was moored in. The words No Smoking were painted in huge red letters two-storeys tall on the front of the ship’s bridge. Its main deck was lined with heavily armed men, most of them staring down at the new arrivals.
Wide-eyed, Baker looked at Kateri, who broke out in laughter.
“My brother found it.”
“What do you mean your brother found it?”
“Salvaged is a better word,” a male voice said from behind them, “and it was more a matter of it finding us, then us finding it.”
They all turned. Lucia recognized Michael Otetiani immediately. With his rugged good looks and the long thick braid that ran to the middle of his back, it was hard not to.
“How are Mei and the others?” Otetiani asked Lucia, removing his sunglasses and placing them in the breast pocket of his hunting jacket. “Kateri said they are not traveling with you. Are they well?”
“They are fine. Everyone is fine.”
Otetiani nodded solemnly. “Good, I am happy to hear that. What brings you back to this part of the country?”
“I am going to find the man who caused the pandemic—and then I am going to kill him,” Lucia said. She glanced at Baker. “And he is going to help me.”
