The Scattered and the Dead (Book 2.5)

by Tim McBain

  We wander our whole lives, and we search for something that we don’t understand, something that might not even be real.

  I’ve got faith, but it’s hard to keep sometimes.

  That’s the awful truth right there.

  Baghead was asleep when I got back, all stretched out on those bench cushions, swaddled in a navy blue sleeping bag. I imagine he drifts somewhere painless for a little while, and I’m glad for that.

  Ruth knew what had happened out there, of course. She had this look in her eyes, and she asked me if I took care of it, and I nodded. I’m sure she only sensed it in some vague way, that I’d been in some violent encounter without any other details. Still, she seems to know those things, seems to look right through most everything to see what’s real under the shell.

  Anyway, I gave our next move a lot of thought on the ride back, and it’s decided. When we hit the east coast, I will dig up those letters I wrote. I will give them to Baghead.

  It’ll be a little detour to dig ‘em up, but I figure Bags needs time to heal anyhow, so what the hell?

  Between what happened along that exit ramp and what happened on the beach all those years ago, your humble narrator tells quite a story indeed.

  But for this moment here, I think we’ve all heard quite enough.

  Erin

  Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

  The morning after

  Sorry, I got cut off earlier. But I’m back to continue the Saga of the Big Bright Light in the Sky.

  Where was I? Oh, right…

  Max and I scrambled off the hood of the Humvee, and at the same moment I heard the splashing of water as Bennett and Breanne shimmied up onto the shore.

  “What was that?” Breanne asked as she pulled her shirt over her head.

  “I don’t know, but we should get back to camp,” Max said.

  Once the other two were fully clothed again, we climbed into the Hummer. Breanne sat up front with Bennett, and I got in back next to Max. Bennett was fussing with something in the front, and I wondered why he didn’t start the damn thing and get moving.

  “It won’t start,” he said, and then I realized that he’d been trying — unsuccessfully — to fire up the engine the whole time.

  “What do you mean?” Max asked, gripping the sides of the driver’s seat and poking his head up front.

  “I mean the fucking thing won’t start! The starter won’t even crank.”

  Max leaned forward and gave it a try. Nothing happened.

  “Oh shit,” Max said.

  “What?” I think all three of us said it in unison.

  “An EMP. I bet that’s what that flash of light was.”

  “A what?” Bennett asked.

  “An electro-magnetic pulse. It kills anything electric. Generators. Computers. Even cars, at least newer models.”

  “Fuck!” Bennett slammed his fist into the dash. “Top is gonna tear me a new one if we can’t get the Humvee back!”

  “Sgt. Grantham’s gonna have a metric fuckton of shit to wade through before he can even start to worry about one missing Humvee.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like everything. All the medical equipment in the quarantine tent. The refrigerators and cooking gear in the mess tent. That’s just our camp. EMPs can hit a radius of thousands of miles. We could be stranded here without a resupply for days.”

  Several seconds of silence ticked by as that sunk in for all of us.

  “I want to go back,” Breanne finally said from the front seat. She sounded scared.

  “Right,” Bennett said. “Guess we’re walking. Let’s go.”

  It was a very quiet trek back to camp. And dark. Max grabbed a flashlight from the Humvee, but when he turned it on, nothing happened.

  “Jesus. Even flashlights won’t work?” Bennett asked.

  “Looks like it,” Max said.

  It wasn’t until we got within sight of the fence and I heard the murmur of voices that I thought about how the flash had probably awakened everyone. Including my mother.

  Fuck.

  Max held the concertina wire aside for me while I climbed through the gap. As I started to break away with Breanne, he put his hand on my shoulder and stopped me.

  “Are you OK?”

  I nodded and swallowed, thinking about how close (I’m pretty sure) we’d come to kissing only a few minutes ago. That seemed weird. It was like days or weeks had passed in only a few minutes.

  Max squeezed my arm, and then we headed off in opposite directions in the camp.

  I didn’t realize until it was just the two of us that Breanne was sniffling. She was crying.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “I’m scared,” she said.

  I was shocked, Kel. Shocked. Breanne… scared? The girl who had — a mere hour or so earlier — snuck into my tent in the middle of the night. While she was sauced on stolen booze. Then she led me back to the woods, convinced me to strip down to the altogether, and invited two older gentlemen to come join us in our nakedness.

  Scared.

  I wrapped an arm around her and blathered a bunch of reassuring nonsense about how things would be OK. Because fuck, Kel. I don’t know if everything really is going to be OK.

  When we got closer to the edge of the crowd, I realized that the large group and the agitation would work to my advantage. When I picked out my mom in the crowd, I pushed through to get to her.

  “Mom!”

  “Erin, thank God! Where were you?” She sounded more pissed than worried, as usual.

  “I had to pee. I was halfway to the porta-potties when I saw that bright light.” Then, thinking of Breanne’s reaction, I added, “I’m scared.”

  (I’ve mentioned before that I’m definitely going to hell, right? Well, at least you’ll be there to keep me company. Ha!)

  My mom sighed and said, “I know, I saw the light, too.”

  “Do you know what it was?”

  I still wasn’t sure about Max’s theory about an electro-magnetic whatchamacallit, and it wasn’t exactly like I could share it with her without blowing my story.

  “No, but I’m sure we’ll be given answers soon.”

  While we waited, I listened to the hushed voices around us. They sounded strained. Like they were clinging desperately to their last nerve.

  “Could it be a nuclear attack? I bet it was the Arabs,” someone muttered.

  “Nah. If it were nuke-ular, we’d all be toast.”

  Another voice said, “It was a power surge.”

  “A power surge? What does that even mean?”

  “I don’t know. I was just… thinking out loud.”

  “Do us all a favor, Lawrence,” the woman hissed. “Shut up if you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Excuse me for livin’.”

  Eventually a wavering light illuminated the side of camp closest to the National Guard barracks. Sgt. Grantham (Bennett and Max always call him Top, for some reason) and a couple soldiers carrying propane and kerosene lanterns approached the restless mass we were huddled in.

  “Finally,” I heard someone whisper.

  The drone of the crowd waned until all that was left was an errant cough or clearing of the throat.

  “I know you’re all probably wondering what’s going on, and to be frank, the best answer I can give you right now is that we’ve had a massive power failure.”

  The buzzing swelled again, as if we weren’t people, but a big swarm of agitated insects.

  “Now hold on, folks,” Grantham raised his voice over the rest of us. “The last thing we need is for panic to set in. All this really means for the immediate future is that it’s dark. And I think we can live with that for one night. There isn’t a whole lot we can do until morning anyhow. So I’m going to suggest that everyone go back to their tents for the night. We’ll have a camp meeting at 0700 hours, at which time we can better assess the situation. My men will be setting up a few torches around camp so we’re not all wandering a
round in complete blackness. Please warn the little ones in camp that the torches are not toys. We don’t need any injuries.”

  He nodded once.

  “That’s all. You can head back to your tents now.”

  We scattered like ants under an upturned rock. My mom kept a hand on my back so we didn’t lose each other in the jumble of bodies. As we headed for our tent, I could see a flickering glow up ahead. We passed by, and I saw Max with Jimbo and another soldier lighting one of those tiki-style torches that you stick into the ground. He glanced up as I passed and gave me the tiniest smile. Just the barest quirk of the corner of his mouth. Luckily my mom didn’t see.

  Well, obviously that’s not the end of the story, but I have to stop for now.

  Your confused and befuddled BFF,

  Erin

  Erin

  Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

  The morning after

  Kelly-

  So much to catch up on. Last we left off, we were sent to our beds by Sgt. Grantham, after the Big Flash of Light. (From henceforth, I’m going to call it the BFoL to save time, if you don’t mind.)

  The first thing I noticed upon waking was the traffic noise coming from the highway. It wasn’t exactly a new thing. People have been streaming out of the city at a fairly steady pace the whole time we’ve been here. I’ve heard talk around camp, from people that lived in or around the city, that it’s been that way since things got really bad with the plague.

  But this morning, there was a noticeable difference. Usually what we hear is the windy whoosh sound of cars speeding past. Today it was more of a constant rumble. When I stepped around the side of our tent to brush my teeth, I could see why: a long line of vehicles stretched all the way into the distance in both directions, and they weren’t moving much. Every few seconds they all crept forward a yard or two. The side of the highway leading into the city was practically barren.

  The other thing I observed was that almost all of the cars were old. Ancient, really. Some boxy 80s-looking pickup trucks, giant 70s boats like that Impala my grandpa had. There were even a few old motorcycles.

  All of this led me to assume one thing: whatever the BFoL had done in camp, it had done to the whole city. It makes me wonder if it affected you too, wherever you are. I mean, I know Max said something about thousands of miles, but I assumed he was being hyperbolic.

  I finished brushing my teeth, spitting the toothpaste foam through the border fence and into the weeds. And then it was time for Sgt. Grantham’s 7 AM meeting (which is what interrupted my previous entry).

  Following my mom through the entrance of the mess tent, we found seats toward the middle. That same nervous chattering sound of a great mass of people all murmuring at once filled the space. A few minutes later, I saw Breanne come in with her parents. She caught my eye and waved me over.

  “Is it OK if I go sit with Breanne?” I asked.

  My mom seemed distracted.

  “Hm? Oh. Sure, honey.”

  I met Breanne a few tables over.

  “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”

  I shrugged.

  “I’m starving,” she said.

  “Could you eat a horse penis?” I asked.

  She burst out laughing. I knew then that she’d recovered since last night. I was glad, really. It was too weird seeing her scared and upset like that.

  “A horse penis?”

  “People are always saying they’re hungry enough to eat a horse, but what’s the big deal about that? It’s probably not much different than cow,” I said. “Horse penis, on the other hand…”

  The meeting started with all the National Guard people filing in all orderly and lining up along the far wall. Sgt. Grantham came in last and headed for the raised platform in front. The military really seems to love their little procedures.

  “I hope everyone was able to get some sleep last night after all the excitement.”

  A few chuckles echoed through the tent.

  “Well, there’s no sense beating about the bush. My men have been running tests all morning, and so far the main result of last night’s event seems to be this: Anything with electronic parts is fried. Phones, generators, refrigerators, radios. If it’s something with an on/off switch or a power plug, chances are, it’s toast.”

  The group shifted in their seats as a nervous ripple of energy ran through the tent. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and tried to turn it on. Nothing happened. I noticed Breanne and several other people at our table doing the same.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do. First, we aren’t going to panic. Humans have only been living with power for the last hundred-plus years. For thousands of years before that, we survived just fine. There’s no reason we can’t make do without it for the time being.”

  The sharp point of Breanne’s elbow jabbed me in the ribs.

  “Easy for an old fart like him to say. He was probably born before electricity was even invented,” she muttered.

  I stifled a snicker.

  “Second, my engineers are confident they can — given the proper time and resources — get at least some of our generators and vehicles back up and running. We may need to salvage some of those resources from the civilian motor pool.”

  A middle-aged man at the table behind us scoffed. “What is this? Martial law? You can’t just seize personal property!”

  Grumbles of agreement and disagreement sounded. Grantham raised his voice over them.

  “I assure you that no such action will be taken without notifying the property owner first. I will also do my best to ensure that anyone that does allow us access to any parts we need will be fairly compensated at the end of all of this.”

  That seemed to quell the dissenters enough for Sgt. Grantham to continue.

  “In the meantime, we will need some volunteers to assist in some tasks around camp. We have a few propane stoves we can utilize for cooking, and we’re also looking into constructing fire pits. That kind of rustic meal preparation for a group this size is going to be an arduous task, so we’re hoping for a few dozen volunteers to help the kitchen staff. If you’re interested, please see Sgt. Bennett.”

  Grantham turned to the men lining one side of the tent. “Bennett, raise your hand so people will know who to look for.”

  Bennett raised his hand like a dutiful little soldier. Next to me, Breanne sighed adoringly. I tried not to gag.

  “We also need volunteers in the quarantine tent.”

  The crowd fell into murmuring again. I heard more than one voice whisper, “The plague tent?”

  “As I was saying,” Grantham said, “similar to our situation with the kitchen crew, the medical staff in the quarantine tent is in need of extra hands. Dr. Graves is insistent that all volunteers will be provided with proper quarantine gear, to minimize any risk of transmission.”

  While the sergeant pointed out the soldier in charge of collecting quarantine volunteers, I listened to the buzzing voices around me.

  “Is he serious? I mean… really?”

  “No way in hell I’m steppin’ foot near the plague tent!”

  “Me neither. Gives me the creepers just thinking about it.”

  Clearing his voice to redirect our attention, Sgt. Grantham carried on.

  “Last but not least, as a result of the aforementioned uncertainty of resupply, we will be instituting rationing.”

  That elicited more than a few groans from the crowd. Breanne was one of the loudest.

  “I know. Believe me, I’m just as unhappy about it as you are,” he patted his belly, I guess to suggest he likes to eat. But honestly, he’s a pretty trim guy. I doubt anyone bought it. “But it’s our safest bet, not knowing when to expect our next resupply. Luckily we can still draw water manually from the well pumps on site, so at least we have all we can drink. For now, there will be two daily meals served instead of three. One starting at 10:30 in the morning and the other at 5:30 PM.”

  The meeting was adjourned after that. Breanne and I stoo
d and joined the horde of people making for the exit. I only realized then that Sgt. Grantham hadn’t really given us any explanation as to what the BFoL was. Maybe he doesn’t even know.

  Across the mess tent, I saw my mom talking to one of the soldiers in charge of volunteers. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. She’s all about kissing ass and taking orders. She would have made a great soldier that way.

  At the door, Breanne and I split up to head back to our tents. I think we both had the sense that we needed to check in with our family units. I met up with my mom outside our tent.

  “Did I see you volunteering for something?”

  “Hm?” She seemed preoccupied again. “Oh, yes. I did.”

  “So you’re going to help cook? Or what?” I asked, following her inside.

  “No. I signed up for the medical tent.”

  I gaped at her, not quite believing what I was hearing. I couldn’t comprehend that she would willingly sign up for a double dose of plague germs.

  “Why?”

  “Because they need the help. And I have some experience after dealing with…” She trailed off, the way she always does when specific mention of my dad getting sick comes up.

  It was true, I guess. She had learned to do some of the basic nursing-type tasks. We both had. Giving injections, checking IVs to make sure they hadn’t gone bad, hanging new saline bags, monitoring vitals. We’d both done plenty of that for my dad. But I didn’t see why that meant she had to put herself at risk of getting the plague.

  “But what if you get sick?”

  “You heard just as well as I did that every precaution will be taken to minimize the risk of infection.”

  “Minimize is the key word there! Nobody even knows how it spreads, so how can they be sure they aren’t infecting new people left and right?”

  She sighed.

  “Erin, don’t get melodramatic.”

  “I’m not!”

  “Well, I hope your attitude adjusts quickly, because I signed you up as well.”

  I literally pooped my pants, Kel.