Reduced

by Robin Tidwell

  Driving to work was actually fairly normal: the traffic, the stubborn red lights, the good-natured honking and sometimes blaring of one or two particularly impatient drivers. All par-for- the-course in the St. Louis area, especially during rush hour.

  When Abby pulled into the high school parking lot 45 minutes later, she noticed there were about half as many cars there as usual. She found an ideal spot near the back of the lot, empty spaces all around it, and parked facing out. Standard operating procedure that she’d been studying, for this day at least.

  It was just before 8:00 a.m.

  With a watchful eye, Abby walked quickly toward the building that housed the gym. Once inside, she was on high alert. It was strangely quiet.

  She moved down the hallway to the girls’ locker room and opened the door cautiously. Hmmm. Business as usual, here at least. Then she looked closer. A few girls had finished their morning workouts and were heading for the showers; a few more were in the gym itself, getting some personal instruction from Deb, Abby’s boss and longtime friend. Abby stepped through the doorway just as Deb finished speaking.

  The girls left the gym with confused looks on their faces. Two were practically running, and one glanced over her shoulder, looking as though she were about to speak. She didn’t, however, and the fire door banged shut behind them.

  Abby looked at Deb questioningly. Deb nodded. They walked into the coaching office and Deb shut and locked the door, drawing the curtains closed over the bank of windows.

  Deb was tall, taller than Abby, and a few years older. Her short, brown hair was a bit spiky, almost standing straight up. She was athletic in build, as a coach should be, and had a direct, no-nonsense manner with her “girls.” She still often considered Abby one of them.

  “You got the call?” Abby nodded. “Yes.”

  “And you’re ready?” A drop of blood appeared on Deb’s cheek. She quickly brushed it away, but not before Abby noticed her movement. “All right, then. You know where to go, what to do?” She coughed and cleared her throat.

  Abby grew tense, standing on the balls of her feet, her muscles taut. She waited.

  “I’m not going, Abby.” Deb looked a bit pale. What looked like a scratch suddenly appeared on her cheek. Then another. “Abby! Pay attention!”

  Abby started to move, to speak. She had a lump in her throat and could do neither. She just looked at Deb.

  “Abby,” said Deb, sadly. “Oh, Abby . . . tell everyone I said . . . just tell them I love them all.”

  “But, Deb, come on, I mean—I mean, come on!” Deb grew increasingly paler; there were more scratches on her face. Her eyes . . . dear God, her eyes—

  “Get out, Abby. Leave now. Go.” And Abby fled.

  She paused once, to look back at the office. That’s when her cell rang again. It was Meg.

  She took the phone call out in the hallway.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  They all gathered in the “command center,” early in the morning. Most appeared tired already, as no one had gotten much sleep. Too many questions, too few answers. Thankfully, the cooks had gotten up early and put the coffee on; Abby had finally given up on sleep and gone for her usual morning run. Now she was holding a steaming mug, sipping, waiting for Cal to begin.

  “All right,” said Cal. “I’m going to start at the beginning. I’ll take questions as they come, but let’s try to stay on topic.

  “You were all approached three months ago with vague talk about a kind of Armageddon…or rather, the possibility of one. I purposely didn’t give anyone any details, mostly because I didn’t have much information myself.

  “Meg and I talked. We decided, knowing each of you personally and for quite some time, that you were the people we could see making a difference.

  “Basically,” she added, “You were the ones we wanted with us when all this went down.”

  “But I have one question.” Cal looked around the room. “Does anyone want out of this?”

  Silence.

  Of course they weren’t leaving. No one spoke, no one moved. They were in for the long haul, whatever that might bring, whatever might happen next. Cal knew what she was doing, and besides, there was nothing else out there; they’d all seen that for themselves.

  Cal took a deep breath. “Okay, here we go.

  “First, you all have your assignments. Those duties begin immediately. I’d like all of you to check in with me twice a day.” She looked at Abby. “Some of you may not find that possible, but we can cross that bridge later.

  “Second, we expect more refugees to show up, today and maybe over the coming week. Possibly after that as well, but it’s doubtful. Emmy, that’s your department; meet and greet, so to speak.” Cal smiled.

  “And finally, I’m going to tell you what’s happening.”

  Muscles tensed. Smiles, tentative at best, faded. Someone cleared his throat, nervously. The silence was total and complete. “The disease itself is Venal Atrophic Dissolution. Its creator was Dr. Edward Roberts. They call it VADER.” Cal managed a small, ironic smile.

  “The initial symptoms are, as most of you have seen firsthand, a general feeling of unease followed immediately by facial pallor. The whites of the eyes become blood-filled and usually the face begins to show signs of…cracking. That last usually happens progressively faster over several minutes.

  “Death is imminent, and painful, but at this point absolutely nothing can be done. All arteries and veins have, um, dissolved, but the brain is the last organ affected.

  “The important thing is this: if you see any of these signs, on anyone, anywhere, you must immediately detain the individual and report in as soon as possible. It’s doubtful that there will be a case here; it seems to have begun and ended quickly, from what we can tell by monitoring the outside. In other words, no one here has been affected or that person would already be dead.”

  Noah stood up and cleared his throat. “If I may, Cal?” She nodded assent. “As Cal said, we’ve been monitoring this via the Internet, not only since we’ve been here but for the last few weeks. There have been small pockets of these cases, worldwide, since the middle of July. There has been almost no media coverage, and that was quickly silenced. Co-opCom, we presume, put on the pressure.

  “Those earlier outbreaks were, we believe, tests. This one, the big one, was a mistake. A very, very tragic mistake with unfathomable consequences.

  “However, I’ve been working toward this end for some time. I’ve gathered a lot of data and quite a bit of information, but it will take time. I hope to discover not only exactly the cause, but if there’s a cure or a vaccination. It could be that we here are all simply immune and, if so, I need to know why.” Noah sat down and Cal asked if there were any questions.

  Several hands waved, and Cal took each in turn. Most were desultory, few dealt with specifics of this…this plague. VADER. What an apt name, thought Abby. And created by an Ultratron employee. She idly wondered what had happened to Dr. Roberts but, having heard a great many things about his controversial company over the last few years, didn’t really care.

  Ultratron had been very secretive about its numerous projects and contracts in the last decade, but the media portrayed it as an altruistic organization, funded in part, at least, by the government.

  Janey spoke next. “Cal, when you all say ‘outside world,’ what exactly do you mean? Is there anyone left besides us?”

  Cal bit her lip and looked first at Meg, then at Noah. “Not many,” she said crisply. “There are a few groups, like us, small and in scattered locations. However, we can only keep in touch as long as communications stay up. We’re not sure how long that will be.”

  They absorbed this in silence.

  Thirty minutes later, after a few more desultory questions, the meeting was adjourned. They all wandered outside, into the sun. No one spoke.

  Ted headed over to the kitchen area to check on breakfast; it was a rather automatic response, he had a job to do and so it must be done. Besi
des, he thought, food was pretty important for everyone! A chef in his former life—sheesh, was that only yesterday—Ted was an excellent cook, be it over a 12-burner gas range or a campfire; didn’t matter much either way.

  He quickly checked on his “assistants,” the teens and almost- teens, and rang the bell for breakfast.

  Abby ate quickly, barely aware of what she was eating but, in a testament to Ted’s skill, she decided it was delicious. She headed back to Cal and Meg’s tent, at the latter’s request, for some detailed instructions on what exactly was needed from her.

  Meg was on her phone and Cal was fiddling with a stack of papers; Meg gestured for Abby to sit, so she did. Surprisingly, she realized, she hadn’t checked her phone for messages or mail since she’d arrived. Assuming there would be none because, after all, it was kind of the end of the world, she pulled the phone out of its holster.

  There was an email from Deb, sent early yesterday morning. Abby hastily put the phone away. She couldn’t read that now. Maybe later. Maybe when she was alone.

  Meg ended her call and came and sat beside Abby.

  “Kiddo, here’s what we need you to do. We’re gonna have to expand our camp; like Cal said earlier, more folks could be heading this way. The first part is easy—check out the main areas of the camp, see which sites are usable and which ones might need some repair. We’ll get a crew on that right away, if Brad . . . when Brad gets here.” She paused briefly.

  “It goes without saying that you’re also to keep an eye out for any, er, trespassers. Use your own judgment, Abby, but make sure you report back here as soon as possible after any ‘incidents’. In fact, for these first couple days, until the whole place has been checked out, I expect to see you here before lights out, ‘kay?”

  Abby nodded.

  “All righty then,” said Meg. “See you at dinner and, Ab, be careful . . .”

  Abby left the tent and went back to her own. She grabbed her water bottle and a light daypack, filling it with ammo, a blanket, an extra pair of socks, and a small first aid kit. She reached under her cot and pulled out a long, hard plastic case. She unlocked it, opened it, and paused for a moment, mulling her choices.

  The Mossberg. Perfect. She added shells to the daypack, quite a few, and double-checked the shotgun. Relocking the case, she slid it under the cot and headed for the commissary.

  Lorie was behind the makeshift counter just inside the door to the old lodge. “Shower or supplies,” she drawled, seconds before she took note of Abby’s accessories. “Right. Got you covered, so to speak.”

  She knelt down behind the counter, knees popping, and came back up with a couple of granola bars and a package of jerky. She’d been expecting Abby, as Meg had briefed her last night.

  Lorie carefully made note of the supplies going out and said, “There ya go. Be careful out there.” Abby shrugged; it was just a job. She truly didn’t expect any problems, yet, but was a little on edge all the same. Still, she smiled at Lorie and stowed the food in her pack.

  “All familiar territory today, Lorie,” she said. “See ya!”

  Abby walked over to the kitchen area to fill her bottle from the pump. Thank goodness this place had always had well water although, if Brad didn’t get here soon, they might not be able to reach whatever was left once the storage tanks were empty. She spotted Emmy.

  “Hey, Em, I’m off for the day—I’ll be back for dinner. Stay close, okay?”

  Emmy smiled. “Sure, Ab. Busy day so far, plan to keep it that way! Take care . . .” The girls hugged, and Emmy turned back to her small group of new arrivals. Abby set off down the gravel road to her first stop.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The brush was thick and trees towered over Abby’s head. Using her knife, she slowly made her way back into the old campsite, cutting just enough to allow herself passage. It took her nearly twenty minutes to move as far as the abandoned fire pit, around which was just a bit of cleared space.

  Alert to any sounds, Abby stopped and surveyed the immediate area. Nothing, not even the sound of birds, no movement except high in trees where a light breeze blew. She took a swig from her water bottle and sheathed her knife.

  Scanning the steep hills, Abby saw no signs that any humans had been here recently, probably not for several years. All the same, she made her way to the covered shelter, stacked with old picnic tables, cautiously and carefully.

  One table was off to the side, upright and fairly sturdy looking. She laid down the Mossberg, safety off, and sat beside it. Mentally, she began to take notes on the location, the layout, and the condition of this particular site. Abby had trained herself in memorization, both visual and verbal; she would have no difficulty relaying any relevant information back to Cal at the end of the day, no matter how many locations were involved.

  Within minutes, Abby stood up and, grabbing the shotgun, made her way to the small, nearly dry, creek bed a few yards away. On the other side was a cabin of sorts; she’d already noted the silent and abandoned look to the place, but she had to be sure.

  Without making a sound, Abby stopped at the screen door, a little to the left of the frame. Hooking one finger in the handle, she yanked the door open and cocked her weapon. That sound, often, was enough to at least startle a person and give Abby some shock value as an unknown entity.

  The cabin was empty.

  There were two bunkbeds, one on each side of the doorway, near the back; two windows, one on either side of the building; and a large hole in the roof. The floor was covered with sticks and leaves and dust. There was nothing, or no one, else.

  Abby stepped outside, made a quick check, and clicked on the safety. Shouldering the gun, she made her way down the creek bed for nearly a hundred yards before turning back. That was enough. Time to move on.

  Remembering the layout of the camp from years earlier, Abby recalled that she could climb the hill to the east and come back down an old trail behind the main office and staff quarters. She almost missed the cutoff, however, because of the vast overgrowth. Again, quite obviously, no one had been on this particular trail for some time.

  She knew the buildings themselves had been scoped out a few weeks ago, when Cal and Meg and Sandy had first checked on the feasibility of coming here. She wasn’t worried about them; she just wasn’t sure how thoroughly some of the nearly unknown backcountry up there had been scouted. She clearly remembered a small cave, up in the limestone, about two hundred yards higher than the old office building.

  Yes. There it was, almost obscured by brush. All of it looked natural, not contrived by human hands. Or other hands. Abby was brought back to reality for a short, sharp moment. She’d almost forgotten the “why” of this mission.

  Deciding it was time to rest after her brief lapse, and after stopping to listen and watch, she peered into the opening of the cave. Nothing but cobwebs…nothing at all had disturbed the chalky white dust on the floor.

  Abby sat down, cross-legged, with the Mossberg at her side, safety off and ready to grab at a second’s notice. She slung her pack to the ground and placed the .357 beside it.

  Munching on jerky and granola, she decided that now might be the time to read Deb’s email. She reached for her phone, but yanked her hand back almost immediately. Nope, she thought. Not now. I have to focus on the job at hand.

  Basing her knowledge on the events of the last 24 hours, Abby realized that things could change in a heartbeat, and what seemed a peaceful interlude at the moment could very well turn deadly. She needed her wits about her.

  Brushing some crumbs to the ground, Abby stood up and stretched, loaded up her gear, and headed down the hill. Ever vigilant, she continued to watch and listen and move as silently as possible. When she reached the road and crossed the bridge, she glanced over at the encampment.

  There seemed to be a few more tents erected since this morning, she noted; perhaps four? No, five. Obviously that meant more people, but it was difficult to tell at this distance as everyone was gathered on the far side f
or lunch. Abby continued down the road; checking her watch, she thought she could probably tick at least two more sites off her mental list before heading in for the evening.

  The sun was directly overhead and the temperature was climbing. It was August in the Midwest, after all. There was barely a breeze and the humidity was high. Abby paused to drench her bandanna with water, then tie it around her head for a bit of relief. Just a few yards farther and she broke off the road to follow a creek.

  This time she could hear the birds and see the sun trying to penetrate the tree canopy overhead; the slight breeze was welcome. Senses alert, Abby walked cautiously through the almost-dry creek, easily avoiding the few puddles. Perhaps twenty minutes later, she arrived at her destination.

  This campsite was in the middle of an overgrown meadow, rimmed with platform tents. Upon closer inspection she discovered that, while the frames appeared to be in decent condition, many of the dozen or so tents were sporting rotting and sagging canvas. Not really surprised, Abby carefully circled each one, shotgun at the ready, before checking the interiors.

  At the far end of the meadow was a covered shelter, similar to the one she’d seen at the first site but larger and better equipped. Some of the built-in cabinets were hanging open, pots and pans lying on the floor; Abby assumed animals had gotten inside and made the mess as she still had seen absolutely no sign of humans.

  The two fire pits were in good repair, as one would expect stone to be; the wooden tables seemed to be intact but filthy. She walked across the nearby footbridge to the gravel road; the old totem pole was still standing, but faded. She turned and went back to the campsite.

  Up on the hill, just east of the shelter, was the latrine. A newer version than what Abby had been accustomed to years earlier, its maximum capacity was fewer than a dozen people. She had heard, however, that these newer ones included a storm shelter of a sort. That was her focus.

  Not thrilled about actually going inside, considering that this was, after all, a latrine, Abby hesitated then flung open the cellar- type door. Naturally, it was dark, but she could see the stone stairs descending.