Naturally, Frank was immediately interested. Said he hadn’t felt this useful in years. He told her to go ahead and set up a contact; in fact, he wanted to start out right away and go meet these people himself.
Abby considered all the angles before she spoke. “Emmy, take Frank to meet Thomas. We won’t be giving anything away as far as Henry is concerned; Frank is the one taking the risk.”
Frank looked positively gleeful as he and Emmy climbed out the window. Abby moved to the chair near the front of the apartment and watched as they went down the street, keeping to the shadows.
She must have dozed off, because she awoke with a start to the sounds of Emmy and Clarice in the kitchen. Frank was nowhere in sight. Abby walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. “Where’s Frank?”
“Oh,” said Emmy, “Thomas took him right away, and they went to Henry’s place. The boy said he’d bring him back before sunrise.” She glanced out the window. “Should be any time now.”
Just then, the window creaked open and Frank appeared. Smiling, hair tousled, shirt rumpled, he jumped inside. “Feeling spry today!” he announced. “Whew, that is some plan your Henry has, and a nice setup too! Breakfast? Great, I’m starving!
“So,” Frank continued around a mouthful of pancakes, “Since Thomas knows where I live, and he’s the only one, he’ll be my runner. And girls, Henry said they’d arranged to keep you informed of what’s going on, right?”
Abby and Emmy nodded, exchanging looks. “So, I figure at this point you two could use some sleep. Just crawl on back there in the hidey-hole. I’ll help Clarice finish the dishes and then I’m gonna spend me some quality time with her for a bit.” He winked, and Clarice lightly slapped him with the dishtowel; she actually giggled.
The girls made haste to crawl into the hideout and pull the panel closed.
Abby and Emmy left the city as darkness descended. This time they went due south to Jefferson Barracks and then followed the Mississippi. They could see the moon glinting off one of the gunboats Henry had told them about, so they kept well off the shore until they reached Cliff Cave. There, the trees nearly met the water line.
They soon reached the rural part of the area, just south of Arnold and kept going until they found a small copse of trees very near the riverbank. They slept fitfully, both waking on and off, but finding nothing alarming.
Abby gave up sleeping just before noon and decided to do some exploring. She left Emmy snoozing soundly under the trees, and set off toward a cluster of outbuildings.
No people, no bodies; no animals either. She wondered why that was and what had become of all the farm animals. Wandered off? Rounded up? Sure, there were mostly grain farms around here, but it was rare for any farmer not to have a cow, a few chickens, donkeys, something. Weird.
An old-fashioned frame garage still stood, double doors slightly ajar. Abby cautiously approached and used the barrel of her Mossberg to ease them open. Nothing emerged, thankfully. She peered inside.
A mini-van, of all things. The back end was raised, and the van was fully packed. Some family getting ready to flee, no doubt, but interrupted by . . . what? Never mind, she told herself, didn’t matter. Keep going, don’t think about it.
Abby rifled through a few boxes, finding nothing of interest, then she noticed the suitcases. Pulling one out, she discovered it was packed with clothing that obviously had belonged to a little girl. Some pink dresses, flowered shorts and tops, a few pairs of jeans. She held up a dress and looked at the tag.
It said a size six, but she wasn’t sure. How did little girls’ sizes run anyway? Well, it looked like it would fit—and if it would fit, most of the rest should too, right? Juliet might not be excited about dresses, but Abby took one of them anyway…just in case. She did grab the jeans and tops, though, all of them.
Feeling momentarily sad for the little girl who wasn’t going to need these anymore, she nevertheless put those emotions on the back burner and focused on the task at hand.
When she returned to the stand of trees, Emmy was awake. They shared some cold fried chicken that Clarice had sent with them and drank cold instant coffee. Blech, thought Abby, making a face.
Then it was time to talk.
“Well,” said Emmy. “That was an interesting trip!”
“Yeah,” said Abby. “I’m still flummoxed over the whole Henry thing. I mean, seriously Em, you should have seen him at the restaurant! He must have majored in theater, I dunno . . . but Frank was really on fire, wasn’t he? When we left?”
Emmy giggled. “Quality time!”
Abby smiled, then became serious. “So now we wait.”
“Yep,” said Emmy. “But then what? I mean, suppose we see the signal. And come on up to the meeting spot. Then what? Even if all of us, well, most of us, were to come, we couldn’t be much help in a fight.”
“I don’t think that’s what Henry meant. I think he wanted us to know what was going on, in case any of them had to make a run for it or in case there was something specific he needed from us.
“I’m not sure what, either,” Abby said. “But I guess we’ll find out if the time comes.”
“And if it doesn’t,” added Emmy, “We’ll know he failed.”
It was nearly dark and time to hit the road. The girls were back at the camp several hours before daylight and dropped wearily into their cots. Soon everyone else would be awake and they wanted to try to get back on schedule. Abby’s last thought before sleep claimed her was to wonder why Sandy hadn’t shown herself at the gates.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Life went on at the camp, although basic supplies were harder to come by and fear still permeated the daylight hours. Abby and Emmy had reported to Cal, including the plans Henry and his group had made, and for the time being nothing had really changed.
Juliet was overjoyed to see Abby, and Emmy as well, and was thrilled with her new clothes. The dress, however, brought a more subdued response.
“I’ll save this for special things,” she told Abby.
As it turned out, Sandy hadn’t been at the gates to greet them. For the first time, she’d been unable to continue her duties. She was very ill.
Noah suspected cancer, but without the right equipment and facilities, he could do little but treat her symptoms. A loner most of her life, Sandy insisted on lying near the fire pit to “be around people” as she put it. She knew she was dying and didn’t want to miss anything.
Cal didn’t replace her at the gates. There was no need, at this point; hadn’t been, really, for some time now. As the summer wore on and became hotter and hotter, Juliet helped a crew build a shelter for Sandy.
Sandy became a fixture at the fire pit, seldom talking, always watching and listening in spite of her obvious pain. Someone was always there, and Juliet especially liked to sit beside her, telling her stories and trying to distract the dying woman.
Summer seemed never-ending that year. Emmy and Abby watched for signals that never came; Brad wandered aimlessly, often having to be reminded to stay close by and under cover. Juliet turned six, a bittersweet day for the little girl as she tirelessly watched over Sandy, who grew weaker and slept more each day.
In early September, just over two years since they’d arrived, Sandy died.
Fortunately, Juliet was still asleep when Cal found her. The strong woman who’d been through so much, had shepherded her group for two years, didn’t shed a tear. She simply closed Sandy’s eyes gently and whispered, “Goodbye, my friend.” She went to rouse Noah, and then Abby.
They buried Sandy over on the back of the hill, with the others who had died before. Juliet took it very hard, which surprised Abby. She hadn't been this upset when Millie had died, but then, Abby reconsidered, she had been a bit younger. And she’d spent quite a lot of time with Sandy near the end.
Abby made a point of spending more time with Juliet over the next few days and weeks. And then she spied the signal, midmorning, on a clear October day.
She t
ook Juliet to Pops, explaining on the way that she’d have to leave for a few days. The little girl was resigned. Abby notified Cal and ran to find Emmy. They were almost ready to leave when Brad showed up at their tent.
“Cal says I should go along. She thinks it’ll be good for me or something.”
Abby looked at Emmy; she shrugged. “Why not?”
“Great!” said Brad. “Finally I can get out of here for a while! Be right back.”
And he was. And they left the camp, heading north.
The meeting place was near Fenton at a deserted shopping center that had, somehow, withstood the bombs. Mostly. Samuel was waiting when they arrived early that evening, hidden just inside the shattered glass doors of the old Walmart.
He started when he saw Brad, but was soon won over by Brad’s enthusiasm. Which, in Abby’s opinion, was just a little off- kilter and somehow not quite the real Brad. She pushed it out of her mind, thinking that maybe the enforced inactivity had been playing tricks on her as well, and they sat down to hear what Samuel had to tell them.
All was well, he said hastily, before they could begin to ask questions, the revolt was picking up steam and things were on schedule. There had been more mercenary defections as rumors spread, and no new influx of troops, but the numbers hadn’t decreased as much as they’d expected.
However, he said, Henry was working on some new plans; none of which, Samuel stated, he knew about yet. But there was one thing.
It was Frank.
He’d been taken in two days ago, to the death line. And this time, there was no Abby there to save him.
Frank was gone.
“I’m sorry. I know he was a friend.” Emmy put her arm around Abby and held her. Samuel continued to talk, but Abby heard nothing except Brad’s interested questions and the boy’s eager responses, a nonsensical noise that overwhelmed her as she tried to comprehend what she’d just heard.
Finally, Emmy pulled her to her feet and took her outside. In the cool night air, Abby began to regain some equilibrium. She took a few deep breaths. I can do this, she thought; I can get past this, just like all the rest of it. I have to.
The girls went back inside. Brad jumped to his feet. “Hey, there you are! Samuel and I were just talking a little. You okay, Ab?” Abby nodded and sat down.
Emmy just glared at him. “You might be a little more sensitive, Brad,” she said tartly. “It’s not all about you.”
Brad was taken aback. He looked a little remorseful, but only for a minute. “Um, sorry . . . but hey, I was thinking, how about if I go into the city with Samuel? I mean, you two can get back by yourselves okay, right? And it’ll give me something to do besides just hang around . . .” His voice trailed off. Emmy was glaring at him again. “What?”
“Seriously? You’re checking to see if we can get back okay without you? Humph.” Emmy was really getting tired of Brad’s moods; it had worn thin back at camp and now he was over the top again.
“Fine.” Abby spoke up. “He’s right. It’ll give him something to do. That’s if it’s okay with Samuel.” She turned to the boy. He nodded.
“Thank you, Samuel, for bringing us the news about Frank. I appreciate the trouble you went to for us. Give Henry and Jennifer our best, and let them know we’re still available, whenever they need us.” She turned to go.
Brad grabbed her in a big bear hug and swung her around. “Brad! Put me down!” In spite of herself, Abby smiled. This was the Brad she remembered. More or less.
“Thanks, Abby! I’ll see you soon, I’m sure. Be careful out there.” Brad reached out and grabbed Emmy. “Come on, Em, don’t be mad. Here, give me a smooch!”
He pinned Emmy’s arms behind her and bent her over backwards with a long, lingering kiss. He finally released her and she came up sputtering and swinging. He ducked, then followed Samuel out the door. The boy was shaking his head as only teenagers can do.
Emmy was still sputtering when she and Abby left a few minutes later for the long hike back to the camp.
Months passed, winter arrived; Christmas came and went but even Juliet was unenthused. They seemed to be in a holding pattern. Those remaining in the camp, Cal, Pops, Juliet, Abby and Emmy, Noah and Ted, plus just one other family group of three, continued on with their day-to-day chores simply because that’s all there was to do.
Juliet was the only real diversion, and there were almost arguments over who was going to conduct her schooling each day. The little girl was nearly seven years old now. If things were different, she’d be finishing up first grade now. As it stood, she was learning things that much older students were struggling with—if there were even any schools still operating.
Science was her favorite, with Dr. Noah. She learned the names of plants and animals and even got to do simple experiments. She caught on quickly and wasn’t afraid to try anything. Emmy still worked with her on reading and spelling and writing. She liked that too, but not quite as much.
Pops taught her math. She’d mastered addition and subtraction already, even long columns of figures. Pops liked to brag about her abilities with numbers. She was okay with that; she sure loved Pops!
And she liked cooking with Ted. He was fun. He let her make combinations of things however she liked—but he made her eat them too. Sometimes they weren’t very good. Cal would have been the obvious choice to teach Juliet history, but Cal was more silent and withdrawn than ever.
Abby wanted to either take her out in the woods for a long hike, or shake her, she wasn’t sure which would do the most good. Between Emmy and Juliet, she didn’t have much time to spare but she tried to be with Cal in the evenings as much as possible. They told stories of the old days, back when everything was fun. And everyone was alive.
It seemed to help. A little.
Then one day, the smoke appeared, far to the north.
It was noon when Emmy came running to tell Abby. They both knew that smoke at noon meant that someone had traveled during daylight hours, hazardous at best. That, in turn, meant it was very serious. Something big had happened.
The girls geared up and paused at Cal’s tent to let her know they were leaving. Pops promised to tell her; he and Juliet were having a math lesson. Juliet seemed very grown-up when she hugged them both, showing much restraint this time. She told Abby, “I know that you’ll come back. You always come back to me.” She smiled and skipped back inside to her schoolwork.
They reached the meeting place by dinnertime, but no one was there. The remains of the fire used to send the signal was still warm. They went back inside quickly.
Emmy heard it first. They quickly followed the sound deeper into the store; moving cautiously, they came upon a young boy moaning softly in his sleep.
It was Thomas. Frank’s connection. The kid couldn’t have been more than 15, although he looked much younger. He was heavily bandaged but the blood was beginning to soak through. Emmy felt his forehead. He was burning up.
The girls worked as a team. Emmy gently tried to wake him while Abby went in search of first aid supplies. Yes, she had some with her but for crying out loud, this was a Walmart; surely there was something still lying around on a shelf. She grabbed what was left, damned little, and returned within minutes.
They unwrapped the bandages, tossing them in a corner, and cleaned the wounds. Knives and guns; who would use them on a child? Abby knew. She set her jaw and kept going. Using most of their water, they made Thomas comfortable and at some point he awoke. He tried to run, but then he recognized them and slumped back onto the pallet Emmy had arranged.
She coaxed him into swallowing some medicine for the fever and pain, as well as some soup. Cold, yes, but better than nothing. He was still very pale and his skin was dry. He seemed to have fallen asleep again.
All they could do was wait, and hope.
Six hours later, Thomas stirred. He opened his eyes and smiled at Emmy and Abby. Emmy gave him more medicine and some water; he was able to hold the bottle himself, which they took as a sign of impr
ovement.
Then he shook his head, and began to speak. They had to strain to hear his soft voice as the tale unwound.
Henry had coordinated with the other groups around the country, and they’d all decided the time was right to strike. The mercenary troops had dwindled to half their original numbers, but the guards surrounding Colonel Barton were still ever- present.
Thomas and Samuel had served as lookouts, but Jeffrey had stayed behind with Jennifer and her son. He was protecting them, Thomas said. Abby and Emmy exchanged glances. More than likely, Henry had refused to send a thirteen-year-old into battle, but it was a moot point now.
They’d actually disabled the gunboats, and they’d taken out the northern and western barracks. The southern one proved much tougher. That was where Samuel had been. With Brad.
Thomas cleared his throat. Spittle ran down his chin. It was tinged red. Without showing any alarm, Emmy gently wiped it off. “Samuel tried to fight. He wasn’t supposed to. Brad saved him. One of the men told me later. They both died.” Thomas’ eyes closed then, and his breathing became ragged. Emmy lowered her head and her shoulders began to shake.
Suddenly, Thomas’ body jerked and his eyes flew open. “Have to . . . tell you the . . . rest.” More blood ran down his chin, soaking his t-shirt.
“Shhh,” said Emmy. “It’s okay, go to sleep for a while.” “No,” the boy said. “Abby?” He gripped her arm with surprising strength. “Listen.”
“Go ahead,” she told him. “I’m here.”
“They’re all gone. All of them. Jennifer. The baby. My brothers.
“Everyone . . . gone . . .”
The girls covered him, and left. No burial was possible, there was concrete everywhere. And they had to leave. It was a miracle that Thomas had been able to make it all this way, injured as he was. Abby wondered who had bandaged him and suspected it was Clarice. Maybe she was still alive. They had no way of knowing, unless they went into the city; obviously the battle had gone down recently, probably earlier today.
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