Abby discovered the source of the smell upon awakening. The forest around her was more bare than usual at this time of year. Where some trees should have been fully leafed out, there were merely buds; those that should have been budding were still bare.
Fire. At some point, probably last fall, the park had burned. Or someone had burned it on purpose. Abby thought the former was more likely, as survivors hiding out here wouldn’t necessarily have had the skills to do so. Accidents did happen.
Abby took in her surroundings carefully. Further down the ridge she could see a stand of evergreens, apparently unscathed. Furthermore, if she inched out from under the rock just a tad, she could see an almost clear delineation between the undamaged and burned areas.
Well. That changed things, and slightly in her favor. She could stay close to the rocks and make her way over to the more lush area, over by those trees, and make camp. Hopefully any hollows or crevasses were near enough, in case she needed to get even more out of view.
She left her pack behind and moved along the rock wall behind her, keeping low in the event of a flyover. She reached the spruce trees within minutes, pleased to note how thickly they were grouped together. This would do nicely.
She scanned the area around her and discovered, just to the east, another outcropping similar to where she’d left her gear. Perfect!
Abby began by weaving together some of the lower branches; the job was invisible from the outside but would keep out all but the heaviest downpour. She swept up some of the older, dead needles on which to set her bedroll and cleared a space for a small fire. As long as it was under the tree and the flames kept very low, she should be safe from both fire and visibility.
She fetched her supplies and finished setting up the small camp. Easily found the spring she remembered from past visits. After breakfast . . . or lunch, at this point, since they’d effectively reversed the day/night correlation, Abby went in search of a better hiding place.
She found it quickly, just up the slope from her camp, and it was better than she’d hoped. Situated just behind a large rock, which blended into the backdrop of the opening, was a small crack. Larger than it first appeared, it proved just wide enough for Abby to enter.
Inside, there wasn’t much space and, additionally, no secondary exit. But it would work for both herself and Janey, when she arrived.
Now, all she had to do was wait for Janey.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
It had been three days, or nights rather, since the girls had split up. Realistically, Janey could be there by morning or within a day or so. Longer than that, Abby would come into the city itself. They’d planned the route for the most part, but it would be easy to miss each other in the dark. Nighttime was the only option now for travel.
She tried not to think about what would happen if Janey was taken prisoner.
Abby spent her time going over Noah’s list of medicines and supplies and thinking about their situation. Not hers and Noah’s, oh Lord, she tried to avoid that subject even with herself. But overall, what in the world was going on?
Cal had warned her; warned all of them. VADER was released, supposedly during a trial in a remote area, but it got out of hand or, most probably, someone was pulling a fast one. Not the right expression, Abby knew, but apt. Regardless, Ultratron was probably involved in a lot more than the creation of the virus.
Sixty people had gathered at the camp. The core group, as well as a few friends and some families. All but twenty were gone now, some of them dead. Other groups had survived this . . . plague . . . but none had been heard from for months.
Some of those who had left were captured by USMC personnel. USMC choppers blew up the town. Their current predicament appeared to be engineered by the government. The US Government, specifically. Or rather, Co-opCom itself. There was no real US remaining.
And Cal had worked for them.
Abby shook off her thoughts. Ridiculous. If she was going to follow that train of thought, she could extend it to Noah: he’d said he was working on the cause and effect of VADER, but had made zero progress. Of course, he hadn’t had all the equipment and lab space to properly work at it, but still…he hadn’t reported any thoughts or theories either, not for a long time. And what about all those blood samples he’d collected from everyone?
Enough.
Why would anyone, let’s say Co-OpCom since everything seemed to point that direction, release this thing? Abby mulled it all over, and over again.
Of course she believed, as did many, that the current administration was a joke. Amateurs. But this virus or whatever didn’t target only a certain political segment, it was pretty indiscriminate. She remembered those she’d lost. Nope, that wasn’t it. But a smaller population would be easier to control. Perhaps those being taken alive were also being subjected to some kind of mind-altering techniques?
Again, enough. She wished Janey would hurry up. Near midnight on the fifth day, Janey appeared.
Abby had been stalling for several hours, knowing it was time to go, hoping it wasn’t necessary. The enemy sure wasn’t going to get two women, staggering around in the dark, if she could help it.
Janey sprawled out under the trees and stared up at the canopy. “Oh, my God,” she said. “That was a trip.” She’d covered the 30 or so miles from downtown in just over a day, traveling around the clock. “Not too difficult,” she told Abby, “Lots of hiding places where there’s a higher population. Or used to be.”
Abby built a small fire and offered Janey a smoke. Janey reciprocated by pulling two bottles from her pack. “I got your back, huh?” Abby smiled, and they began dissecting information. “The big news,” began Janey, “Is the reason they aren’t using infrared is because that virus-thingy-whatchamacallit has rendered it useless on anyone who was exposed. Which basically means all of us. And no, I don’t know why, maybe Noah could figure that out or something.
“But the bigger news is the reason they don’t fly at night.”
Abby waited.
“It’s not in their contract.”
“Contract? They’re Marines, for crying out loud. They have the choppers; Sandy saw uniforms.” Abby was thinking furiously.
“Nope,” said Janey. “Mercenaries. I got inside, Abby. I heard them. Humph. Marines.” She shook her head. “Didn’t really ever believe my peeps would go that way, and it turns out I’m right.
“As for Sandy, she wouldn’t know military if it snuck up and smacked her on the butt. I know,” she grinned. “I tried.”
“So,” said Abby, slowly, “They use military aircraft, dress in some kind of uniform, but have limits on what they will and will not do. And someone is paying them to take out entire towns and people too?”
“Not ‘someone’,” Janey corrected. “We are. The United States Government.”
So it was true. At least the government involvement. They’d all suspected, been sure of it even, but now it was put out there plain and simple.
“Why?” asked Abby.
“C’mon, Ab. Think. Haven’t we, as a country, been going downhill for years? Especially this last decade? Heading toward ‘one world’ government?
“Look at all the bullshit regulations, the freedoms being taken away. Look at the kinds of so-called wars we’ve been involved in, the overstepping of every branch in the good ol’ US. Ignoring the Constitution, stomping on everyone who disagrees . . . oh good Lord, I could go on and on!”
Abby knew. She’d come to just this same conclusion the other day. She was more than familiar with the difficulties in obtaining basic necessities, the nonsensical ordinances, the contradictory executive orders, taxation. Amateur hour, right? Power-hungry sons of bitches.
“I get it,” she said quietly. “Knew it for a long time, just never thought it’d go so far.
“So now what do we do?”
“Fight back,” said Janey. “Duh.”
In spite of Janey’s arduous trip to the base camp, the girls talked until nearly dawn, pausin
g only for a quick bite of dinner. Or breakfast. Whatever they were calling it now.
Janey had gone to the old theater downtown which had been turned into a concentration camp of sorts. This is where those captured were being held while awaiting indoctrination. She’d seen no one familiar and, again, the guards were only hired help. No US military were to be seen, anywhere.
“How on earth,” said Abby, “can they afford this? Weren’t we something like trillions in debt, or whatever number comes after that?”
“Yeah,” Janey said. “Remember all those stories of ‘missing’ campaign donations? That’s the most likely scenario. Ol’ Whatshisname planned pretty well when he pulled that electoral change and took three more terms.
“So we got the ‘who’ and the ‘why,’ and even the ‘how.’ Well, more or less. Bigger brains than mine will have to figure out how to counter that. But, Abby, we need more intel. We need to go back in there.”
“Yes,” said Abby. “But first, I need some sleep.” Janey didn’t argue that point at all. In fact, she was out cold before Abby could bank the small fire and crawl into her own bedroll.
They’d been gone from the main camp down south for almost a week and, while no one was expecting them for at least another ten days or so, Janey had brought additional information that Cal needed to know. Plus, there was the matter of Noah’s list.
The plan was to leave in the early evening and head into St. Louis. Once there, they’d split up again, Abby in search of supplies and Janey to make the attempt to infiltrate at least a barracks, maybe higher. Like she had said, most of the good rumors were circulated among the troops and most had at least a grain of truth.
The girls spent the afternoon readying their weapons and packing light for the trip. Most of what they’d brought would be cached in the rocks. They removed all traces of their presence from the base camp; at least it would fool most people.
The pair entered the downtown area just before sunset. Janey had observed a curfew for all the soldiers and the few civilians who were apparently still free. Abby had plans to mingle with those people, while Janey was going to attempt to enter the barracks, bluffing her way inside.
Abby had a slight change of plans. Instead of stepping into a situation about which she knew so little, she instead hid in the shadows as much as possible. She chose one couple to follow, eavesdropping as they strolled.
“Did you see those new recruits?”
“Which ones, soldiers or civvies?”
“The soldiers, of course! Half the time those civvies are so brain-dead when they join up that they’re just no fun at all.” She sighed, aggrieved as though this were a personal affront designed to make her life miserable.
Her companion laughed. “Join up? That’s a good one!” “Yeah, it’s a good thing we just get rid of most of them.”
Abby’s finger tightened slightly on the trigger of her .357. “They’re so useless. But we have to be nice . . . at least in public.”
“Ah, yes. We must be tolerant, after all.”
“Of course. They were really just raised wrong, you know. They can’t help it if their self-esteem isn’t high, like ours, or if they believe in God and those other myths. It’s our job to teach them.”
“So tell me about those new soldiers.”
“Well, the president himself brought them over.”
“Over? From where?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Someplace foreign. Doesn’t matter. I’m not sure what they’ll be doing, but I’m sure he made the right choice—he always does. He’s just so . . . involved . . . and compassionate. If it weren’t for him, why, I might’ve had to actually have a job and all.
“You know, before everything happened. But I still had everything I wanted. Didn’t have to lift a finger! And my neighbors, those poor schmucks, had those 9-5s every single day!”
The pair laughed again at this supposed witticism. Abby grimaced. She followed them for a couple more blocks, until their inane chatter was about to drive her over the edge. Then she slipped inside a darkened doorway.
The only useful thing she’d heard was about the new recruits from overseas, and that was precious little. She stayed put for a few minutes, contemplating her next move.
Up ahead and across the street, she noticed what appeared to be a restaurant. It looked as though it was open, too, and lights and muted music spilled out the door. She crept closer, then decided to boldly enter and find a spot to sit down. Taking a deep breath, she made her move.
“Ma’am! I’m sorry, you’ll have to leave that at the door.” He gestured toward the shotgun. “You must have just gotten back in town. We changed the rules last week, after that incident . . . oh, you probably haven’t heard if you were gone.
“One of the soldiers made a comment that was believed to be intolerant, and another one shot him. Blew his head right off, and let me tell you it was quite a mess!” The doorman babbled on as Abby reluctantly handed over the Mossberg.
“Huh,” she said. “What was it all about?”
“Well,” the doorman answered conspiratorially, “he wondered what we were all really doing here, and why we had to, you know, get rid of so many people. He even questioned the president!” The man was clearly horrified, as well as delusional, thought Abby.
She tried to look serious. “Oh, no, that’s terrible. I can’t imagine!” And she couldn’t. At all.
“So you see why I have to hold it until you leave. Can’t have anything upsetting our diners, you know. Not again.”
“Of course,” said Abby. “Where shall I sit?”
“Oh, here, where are my manners? Come with me, please. And in case you haven’t been here before, just ignore the prices on the menu. Everything is free here; we’re subsidized, you know.”
Abby kept her face neutral and sat down, facing the door, back to the wall. There was good reason she felt so outnumbered and unprepared. Relax, she told herself. Eat, and listen. If anyone talks to you, smile and nod.
The doorman, or maître d’, or waiter, whoever he was, took her order and she sat back and waited. It didn’t take long for various bits and pieces of conversation to drift her way.
She took mental notes, and barely noticed as the waiter brought her dinner. She looked up when she realized he appeared to be waiting for something.
“Yes?” she said.
“Oh, good, you have time to talk! I was hoping you did. I mean, you seemed lost in thought and all. It’s just so dull around here, I thought you might have some news, or could tell me something interesting you might have seen.”
Abby was briefly at a loss. He certainly was a Chatty Cathy.
Maybe that wasn’t so bad.
“How could you be bored, with all these people here?” She waved vaguely at the crowd.
“Oh, you know. They never notice me except to complain about something.”
“What’s to complain about? The food is wonderful.” Abby dug into her beef stroganoff; it was almost as good as Ted’s. “And you seem like a nice enough kid.”
“Probably this,” he said, holding out a withered hand. “We’re all supposed to be equal, you know, the same. And everyone’s supposed to like each other. All the time.” He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. They still call each other names, even use the ‘R’ word. Especially around me.”
“What’s your name?” Abby asked him.
“Henry. And I’m 20 years old and I live with my mom.” He sounded rehearsed, and then it struck Abby: Henry was mentally challenged and he looked much younger, probably because of his disability.
“But I’m not always gonna live with Mom. They say I can go to medical school and be a doctor someday, because no one is dumb and everyone can learn. They said they’d help me and everything, so I can do it, just like anybody.”
“I see,” said Abby carefully. Either Henry had bigger problems than she’d thought, or all these people were delusional as well. She knew the trends well, having been a high school coach, but now it was blatan
t. Not so long ago, some kids were deemed ‘challenged’ and time and money were spent disproportionately on their educations, everyone with a brain knowing it was a waste.
Now, it seemed, everyone was going to be truly “equal.” Whatever that meant. All the same. No one was stupid, or dumb, they just needed training in spite of any handicaps. Right, thought Abby. That’ll work.
“You should know that. Anyone can do anything now! We’re all the same. You just have to put your name on a list, and it happens. And we don’t have to pay for anything, do we? It’s great. I don’t even have to work, but I do ‘cause it’s fun. My mom doesn’t work. She watches TV a lot. And gets her nails done. But they’re so pretty. And we have a nice house, a really big one.
“You’re pretty like my mom. What’s your name, anyway?” “Susan,” said Abby, without thinking.
“Oh, I like that name. I knew a Susan once. Before I came to work here. She was brought into the hospital where I used to work, you know, from out there somewhere.” Henry waved his arms, pointing vaguely.
“She wasn’t like everyone here. She was different. I liked her. But then they took her away.”
Abby thought furiously. Susan, huh? From “out there?” Couldn’t be. Yes, it certainly could.
“So, which hospital was this, Henry?”
“Oh, come on, you’re teasing me! The other Susan did that too! It’s the only hospital, St. Mary’s.” At that, Henry clapped his hand over his mouth and looked around surreptitiously. “We’re not supposed to say that! You won’t tell on me, will you Susan? We’re not supposed to use any relig-religious words like that!”
Abby put a hand on his arm. “Of course I won’t tell, Henry. Now, I’ve really got to be going. Have to check in you know, since I just got back from my mission.” She stood up and thanked the boy again, then walked out the door.
She let go a sigh of relief as she found a deserted doorway and sat down on the steps. St. Mary’s. Not too far. That would be her next stop.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
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