Moving With The Sun

by Nicki Huntsman Smith

  The frigid air in the walk-in freezer felt wonderful after the heat and humidity, but the pleasure soon faded as he studied the carcasses hanging on rows of hooks dangling from the ceiling. He felt bile rising in his throat.

  “They died of natural causes or from injuries sustained during a raid. We do not kill people for the purpose of eating them, but we do make use of every resource. Meat is meat, whether it once walked on four legs or two.”

  “Are they easier to gut and clean than deer?” Annabelle asked.

  Fergus had hoped to see dismay, shock, or revulsion on the cherubic face. Instead there was only curiosity.

  “First things first, child. You understand that it is not something we prefer to do. It is something we must do to incorporate adequate protein into our diets. The canned chicken and tuna fish ran out months ago. We have cows and some goats, but we utilize them for their milk, which provides the butter and cheese I mentioned. Soon we will build up sufficient livestock so we no longer have to do this.” He gestured toward the human-shaped carcasses which – thankfully – were adult-sized. “But in the meantime, this is simply a matter of utilizing resources. When the people died and their souls flew home to the cosmos, they left something of value behind. Something that no longer was of any use to them. Do you understand?”

  A nod of the blond curls.

  “What the hell is wrong with seafood? The ocean is on your fucking doorstep,” Fergus said.

  “Watch the naughty words, please. We do some fishing too.” He gestured to a case half-full of a variety of fish. “But too many of our assets are used, and even wasted, in the process. Precious gasoline is better utilized in our tanker trucks than in fishing boats. Our people’s time and energy is better spent farming or raiding. Most significantly, fishing is not cost-effective for us because of the barrier island – Jupiter. Someone destroyed the bridges a while back and access to the Atlantic has been limited. We hope to establish an outpost there soon, which will make for easier access to the sea and all its bounty.”

  This kind of information was the reason he was here.

  “Interesting,” Fergus said. “What’s your timeframe for the outpost?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “The sooner I see fewer frozen people in here and more frozen fish, the better.”

  “We’re making progress in that direction even now. Perhaps within the month. If you play your cards right, you might be considered for a position there. As I said, the propane you found bought you elevated status. Let’s move on.”

  They backtracked through the meat market and out into the warehouse, which felt balmy now by comparison.

  “So only certain areas of the building have electricity and air-conditioning? That must be some remarkable ductwork you have.”

  “Yes, it took weeks to accomplish. That’s the kitchen over there.” He pointed to a spacious well-lit room behind a wall of glass. Inside were commercial stoves and refrigerators being utilized by a staff of four Terminators. “I’ll show you how the chow line works when it’s dinner time. Now, here’s what you’ve been waiting for.” Lester wore a half-grin as they stopped in an aisle lined with refrigerated doors on both sides.

  “Is this what I think it is?”

  “It is.”

  Fergus perused the contents as they walked down the corridor. The shelves held Tupperware containers with neat handwritten labels on each side: mozzarella, ricotta, chevre, butter, and yogurt. On the other side were white plastic buckets filled with milk, according to the labels. Dates were also written on each one.

  “Impressive. No hard cheese yet? No cheddar or parmesan?”

  “They’re in the works. Aged hard cheeses take many months.” He sighed. “I know you’re still thinking about the meat hooks. I tried to prepare you the other day during our philosophy discussion.”

  “You did. I realize that now. It’s still dreadful, though.”

  He felt a gentle tug of his hand.

  “They’re not in there anymore,” Annabelle said.

  “What? What do you mean?”

  He could see the child was struggling to find the correct words.

  “What makes us people is what’s in here,” she tapped a ringlet. “When we die, that goes somewhere else. Daddy didn’t believe in heaven, but mommy did. She said that’s where our souls go when we die. So what’s left here is just meat. Like a squirrel or a deer.”

  “Do you really believe that people are no more than animals, Annabelle? Would you eat someone you loved?”

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation. “If it meant I wouldn’t starve. Because that’s what they would want me to do.”

  Bile rose again in his throat. He would not ask this child if she had eaten her parents; it would be more than he could bear.

  “You’re getting caught up in hard-wired societal norms that no longer make sense,” Lester said from almost two feet above. “Let’s shift focus. On to Tent Town.”

  They had reached a metal door at the back of the building. A red EXIT sign hung above it, and a guard stood nearby holding an M16 rifle identical to the ones used by Aubrey’s bodyguards.

  “Hey, Big El.” The woman wore a black tank top, cargo pants, and Doc Martens. She might have been the body double for Linda Hamilton in the second Terminator movie, which was fitting.

  “Hey, Spaz. How are you?”

  Lester was showing more respect to this woman than the pharmacist.

  “Kicking ass and taking names. I finished that book you loaned me. Got any more?”

  “Of course. I’ll bring you something tonight after mess. Same genre?”

  A curt nod of the brunette ponytailed head.

  “Young adult fantasy romance, it is. We’re heading out back. See you later.”

  The woman pushed on the crash bar, opening the door. It was full dark now, but torches provided sufficient lighting to reveal the tented civilization spanning several acres behind the warehouse building.

  “Welcome to Tent Town. What do you think, Annabelle?”

  “It looks like a carnival!”

  “It only looks that way because of the tents. There are no rides and no cotton candy. This is where we eat and sleep and hang out when we’re not working. The latrine is over there. See the port-a-potties? You’ll get to do your business on a toilet seat instead of in the bushes. The men’s shower is to the left of the potties, and the women’s is to the right. You don’t get a lot of privacy, but there’s plenty of soap and shampoo. The towels are in the little building next to it. I think you’re going to like it here.”

  “I know I’m going to like it here!” Annabelle reached for the enormous hand. Fergus stood behind them, watching. The figures of the muscle-bound giant and the curly-haired urchin silhouetted against the backdrop of flickering torchlight and rows of pointed-top tents begged to be memorialized in a photo. Since there no longer cameras or smart phones, he committed the scene to memory.

  He liked these two humans, but he had not forgotten his mission, nor where his loyalties lay.

  Chapter 26 – Tyler

  “Dude, seriously. What the hell is up with you?” Kenny said. They were out on the Celestial Seas angling for grouper or perhaps dolphin fish. “And why the hell are we trying to catch a dolphin? They’re smart, you know. Probably smarter than you, blondie.”

  “We’re not trying to catch a dolphin,” Tyler replied. “We’re trying to catch a dolphin fish, known to landlubbers as mahi-mahi.”

  “Then why didn’t you just say mahi-mahi? And why haven’t answered my question. What is up your butt?”

  It was another splendid day on the open water with just enough wind to propel the boat. Tyler had the fleeting thought of continuing to sail east forever. That would be one way to escape the impossible situation in which he found himself. He had to choose between Rosemary and Kenny and Hector and Ingrid and all the other Colonists he had grown to love, or a bewitching psychopath who had captivated his heart and soul.

  Perhaps he
should spill his guts to Kenny. That would shut up the little shit for once.

  “Maybe I’m worried about having a killer in our midst. Weren’t you even bothered by seeing Howard die right before your eyes?”

  “I didn’t like the guy. He was a pud wacker. Served no purpose in the Colony other than to give people a hard time. We’re better off without him.”

  Tyler was not surprised to hear the teenager vocalize what everyone else probably thought. Still, the lack of empathy was worrisome. The thought triggered another.

  “Poison. Now there’s an interesting factoid. Who has access to poison?”

  Kenny snorted. “You got me there, pardner. You think I’m the number one suspect? That could be fun.”

  “No, because I know you, but other people who don’t know you are aware of your creepy little poison darts. I expect Lucas will come knocking on our door any day now.”

  “You may be right about that.” He grinned while wielding an Abu Garcia rod and reel – Tyler’s second best – and casting almost as expertly as Tyler did himself. There were few tasks the young genius couldn’t master once he put his mind to them. The kid was exceptional.

  “He probably will,” Kenny continued, focusing on the water which had transitioned from turquoise to cobalt this far out. “He’s the sheriff in these here parts, and he’s not as obtuse as people think. So back to what’s really up your butt...”

  “Fine.” Tyler adjusted the mainsail a fraction to utilize a sudden, cool breeze. “You open up to me about your past and I’ll tell you what’s been on my mind. Deal?”

  Kenny didn’t reply for at least a minute. Tyler decided he wasn’t going to, until suddenly he spoke. His focus stayed on the rolling sea while he talked.

  “I had two little sisters and a baby brother...half-sisters and brother, technically. Different baby daddies, not that it matters.” This was Kenny’s real voice, not an impression of anyone. “When the plague began, we were living with our mom in Brownsville...East Brooklyn. You ever been to the city?”

  “Never in my life.”

  “That’s what I figured. Brownsville is about as bad as it gets. Gangs. Violent crime. Public housing. All us poor folk need help from the guvment, ya know.”

  Kenny had slipped into what Tyler thought of as ghetto slang. He regretted using that term earlier. Because of the kid’s intellect and eloquence, he had assumed his background was at least middle class.

  “Gentrification had spread to almost everywhere else in Brooklyn, but not to our ‘hood. You know what that word means, blondie?”

  “Yes, I know what gentrification means.”

  “I made myself a small target...kept under the radar. I was two grades ahead of other kids my age and on the short side too, so of course the bullies and gangbangers wanted to pick on me. I had to be a step ahead of them at all times. Had to think five chess moves in advance to avoid being pummeled or recruited into the Wave Gang or the Hood Starz. Survival depended on being invisible. So that’s what I became.”

  “Figuratively not literally, right?” Tyler teased, thinking to lighten the mood.

  Kenny glanced up. The dark eyes exuded disdain behind the black-rimmed glasses.

  “Sorry. I don’t mean to make light of it. You’re an impressive kid. I can imagine you actually having an invisibility super power.”

  “Your cracker-white ass ain’t got a clue what us hood rats had to deal with back in the day.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “Anyway, the plague was a game changer, for sure. Most folks in our neighborhood died within a couple of weeks. My mom was one of them.” He swallowed hard, brushing at his cheek with the back of the hand that wasn’t holding the fishing rod. “I think it got to her sooner than us kids because she was weak – she’d been saving what little food there was for us. We had been holed up in our apartment for days, with the sofa and a dresser pushed up against the door. Neighbors and strangers pounded on the door, but we didn’t open it. I think that’s why I’m still alive. People went fucking nuts. Then the electricity went out. I put my mom in one of the bedrooms and locked the door. Wouldn’t let the little kids in there, no matter how much they cried for momma. No power, no air conditioning. The smell got real bad, real fast. Then both my sisters got sick at the same time. A few days after they were gone, my baby brother just faded away. I’m still not sure if he got the disease or if he missed his momma so much he couldn’t bear it.”

  Tears streamed down Tyler’s face. He didn’t say a word, just allowed Kenny to continue. He could tell the boy needed to tell his story and would do it in his own way, on his own terms.

  Kenny took a deep breath. “So then it was just me. I realized two things at that point: I wasn’t going to get sick, and I had to get out of there. People had stopped pounding on the door, but I knew they were still out there. I watched them from the window at night. Fires burned all over the place. I could see shadow people darting back and forth in the firelight. I wrapped up my family in blankets and left them on their beds. I think that’s better than being buried in the ground, don’t you?”

  Tyler nodded. The lump in his throat wouldn’t let him speak, even if he could have thought of anything to say.

  “And then I left. Took me two days to get out of the city. There were people blocking the bridges, taking your food or whatever you had on you. I made myself invisible to them, just like I had been doing for years. Finally got to Newark, which was a big relief. After that, I decided never to let myself get stuck on an island again. There’s some irony, for you.” He grinned. “That’s when I began to formulate phase two of my plan. Phase one was getting the hell out of the city. Now that I was on the mainland, I needed a strategy...a goal. A destination. You ever read Treasure Island?”

  “Of course,” Tyler managed. “Doesn’t every young boy?”

  “Not in my neighborhood. So I decided to become Jim Hawkins. I would travel down to the Florida coast, pretend I was on Skeleton Island and search for buried treasure. In hindsight, I was half out of my mind, but at the time it made perfect sense.

  “Lots of weird shit happened on the sojourn down here. Typical of what was going on everywhere, I assume. I did a lot of thinking, as I’m inclined to do, being a genius.” He took a deep breath. The hard part was over. “And I realized the Jim Hawkins thing was pretty silly. Who the hell needs a treasure chest full of gold coins these days? Still, I liked the idea of living at the beach. It never gets cold there like in the city, and I figured I would learn how to fish. I was trying to decide about crossing the bridge when I ran into our culinary wizard from Kentucky. Boy like you ain’t got no bidness wandering around by hisself, she’d said. So we decided together to take a chance on what lay on the other side of the bridge. Glad we got there before Chin blew them up.”

  Tyler laughed. Kenny must feel better now that his story was told. It felt cathartic just hearing it.

  “Now it’s your turn,” the teenager said. “I want to hear everything that’s going on under that gorgeous, sun-bleached mane. Don’t leave out any sex parts either. I’m fourteen, you know. I’ll be fifteen next month. That’s practically an adult.”

  A full minute slipped by before Tyler answered. “I’m trusting you, Kenny. What I’m about to tell you can go no further. At least if you don’t want me kicked out of the Colony.”

  “What the hell? Are you the killer?”

  “No. Maybe worse. I’m the spy from Tequesta.” Saying it out loud didn’t feel as liberating as he imagined it would after months of harboring the shameful secret.

  Kenny’s mouth fell open. He almost dropped Tyler’s second-best fishing rod into the Atlantic.

  “Holy shit. Okay, start from the beginning.” Kenny reeled in his lure and set the rod on the deck of the Celestial Seas. “And don’t forget about the sex parts,” he added, crossing his arms and wearing an expectant look.

  Tyler told his story: losing his parents to the plague; sailing north from Fort Lauderdale; fin
ding Zoey and her sister sunbathing in Palm Beach; falling in love with both of them a little, but with Zoey more as time went by. It wasn’t until six months after the plague that he realized what they were. By then they were building a would-be empire from their headquarters in a Costco warehouse building.

  “They have this magnetism...this ability to ensnare you and wrap their tentacles around you so you don’t want to escape. That’s how they got all these men, and women too, to do their bidding. People gravitate to them. It’s partly because they’re so beautiful, but there’s more to it. You find yourself wanting to be what makes their eyes light up with happiness. You want to be the one who they kiss on the cheek and say, ‘Good job!’ to. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s true.”

  “No, not crazy. I get it. I told you that Zoey chick was sexy vanilla. And now you’re saying there’s two of them? Double trouble, my friend.”

  “Oh, yeah. I fell hard for Zoey, though. They’re not the same person. They look identical and neither have much of a conscience that I can tell. But they’re smart – maybe as smart as you – they’re gorgeous, and they’re highly organized. You wouldn’t believe what they’ve accomplished in Tequesta.”

  “Better than what we have?”

  “Yes. Well, no. Not exactly. Better in a different way. We live on an island paradise. They live on the Florida mainland. They live in tents behind a warehouse building, we live in luxurious houses next to the beach. So we have those things going for us.”

  With the statements that had flown unthinking from his mouth, Tyler experienced an epiphany. He now identified himself as a Colonist rather than a Terminator. He realized that he had felt this way for some time, although he would be hard-pressed to identify the precise moment he had made the mental transition.

  He smiled at Kenny.