by Eden Crowne
Hugo watched as the soldiers tossed the prisoners roughly into the back of a truck that rumbled out from behind the shelter. “Is she the one you wanted?” he asked the Captain.
“Yes. Ethens!”
“Yes, sir!” A woman soldier trotted over with a data pad.
“Take their details, then they're free to go.”
A few minutes later the Guards drove off leaving her, Hugo, and the CRV. No one came out of the shelter. No one had stopped to watch. It was like nothing ever happened.
Sky took a ragged breath. “Are you going to explain what that was all about?”
“I saw them with the binoculars. While you were watching the animals. I thought I recognized the woman from a poster at the hospital. Jane Cos something. Cosgrove? She's wanted for murder, arson, kidnapping. They're Victims Army. ”
“Murder and arson and you thought we should just give them a ride in my aunt's car?”
He searched her face, looking for what, she didn't know. Finally, he said, “I figured you could handle it. Was I wrong? I mean, you are a soldier.”
“I'm not, Hugo. Not really and truly.” She climbed back into the driver's seat. “That woman? She used to go to See's Candy at the shopping center. She was telling me about the chocolate smell and how she would go with her mother. I do the same thing. It's our favorite chocolate.”
“I'm sorry, Sky. I texted the details to the authorities. Then, when they just showed up on the trail, I texted again to say where we were going. You're right. I put you in danger. Are you angry?”
“They're VA. They're the enemy. Come on. Get in the car. I'll drive you home, Viscount Junior.”
“Please don't call me that.” The streetlight behind him created a glowing halo around his dark hair, his skin shining pale and fair. He was frowning, looking from her to the shelter and back again. She wasn't sure if he was going to get in the car or not. “Please.”
He still hadn't opened the door.
“Don't make it weird Hugo. I'm just driving you home.”
“Yes, all right.”
He hopped in, buckled his seat belt, and she pulled back on the road. The car was still slightly musty from their passengers and she left her window down despite the chill.
“My friends call me SinJin.”
“Is that supposed to be naughty?”
He shifted his long legs. “No, of course not. It's a nickname for St. James.”
“I don't hear Andrea and Thomas...”
“And the other Hitler Youth as you called them?”
“Call you that,” she finished.
“As I said, only my friends use it.”
She felt a blush creep up and was glad it was dark so he couldn't see. Friends. He wanted to be friends. That was unaccountably nice, though she felt they were already that. Being with him seemed, not natural, but...unforced.
“Why do you call them the Hitler Youth, if I may enquire?”
“You've seen them and their friends. Racial diversity is not exactly their strong suit. Part of it is the way their squad was put together. We don't have any control over those things and the Senior class was small compared to ours. That's not the only reason.”
El Camino was lit only sporadically with street lamps, the eucalyptus forest on their right-hand side dense and dark. She'd been running through there chasing Hemogoblins only days before. Life and death.
Hugo pointed ahead. “Swing a left at the next intersection, cross the railroad tracks and left again. We're quite near the back entrance to the school. Dad can bike to work if he wants. “
“Does he? Bike, I mean.”
“When he's feeling particularly British. He grew up in that green generation, your mother must have as well. Save energy and all that. Now, of course, it's laughable. So much oil, so few people. He loves to put his bike clips on, sling his old messenger bag onto his back and peddle off. Just up here,” he pointed again. “The big white house with gray trim.”
“This is nice, I don't get over here at all. How many blocks has the city reclaimed by you?”
“No idea. There are a number of lights on in the evening so I assume this block is pretty full. It's quite a lovely place, your town.”
She looked up and down the tree-lined street, it was full of big older houses, the kind Palo Alto was famous for. Most were already decorated for Halloween, orange and purple lights and electric jack-o-lanterns. People didn't do the whole graveyard back-from-the-dead-thing anymore. Given recent history, that was just too creepy. Pumpkins, witches, scarecrows, and lights were the way to go. With the coronation coming on November first, most houses were also draped with strings of British and American flags.
Sky couldn't help but notice the lack of Halloween decorations around Hugo's front porch. “You guys not into Halloween or the Coronation?”
He was putting his backpack on and glanced towards the yard. “We're being remiss. Perhaps you could come over and help me with that? Usher in both events in style.” His phone buzzed and he tugged it out of his pocket, scrolling through the text. “Got to go.”
She watched him walk up the steps to the wide covered porch stretching all the way around the front of the house. Before he reached the door, someone opened it. Flung it open was a better way to describe it. A dramatic movement. A woman stepped out as though onto a stage. Tall and slim and from what Sky could tell, furious. Hugo took a step back as the woman swept forward, her hands gesturing widely. Though she couldn't hear the exact words, the tone came rushing from the porch, right across the lawn loud and clear. He looked over his shoulder briefly towards Sky. The woman stopped talking and followed Hugo's stare.
Sky hastily pulled away from the curb. Passing the house she felt the woman's eyes follow her like a laser site. She shivered. If that was his mother, God help him.
Chapter 11
Bloodstock
Hugo hadn't called or texted by the time school started the next day and she decided she would not be the first to text him. She couldn't help wondering if maybe his mother, if that's who she was, had said he shouldn't hang around with her anymore. Which would be weird since they'd never met.
Andrea and Thomas had their claws firmly into Hugo for help with the Coronation Fan Fest at lunch so she didn't get a chance to even speak with him. She tried not to care. She did, though. Just a little.
The squad was jealous of her forced vacation. Sara Anne declared she should misbehave so she could get time off. She had a geography project on population projections for post-plague Western Europe that was not going well.
“How does Mr. Andersen expect us to research this? Everything is just projections, you know? The surviving big cities,” she gave an exaggerated shrug. “Out in the countryside, it's all guesswork.”
Rickey raised his hand like he was in class.“Pick me, pick me! What about focusing on the numbers coming into the major cities. They keep that pretty well documented over the last two or three years. You can make some projections from plague data they have on the percentage of losses and current-ish data.”
Sara Anne held up a hand for a high-five. “Rickey, that's awesome. I can do that!”
Rickey had been a little quieter than usual since the party. Which was strange. Rickey had two speeds when talking, fast and faster. They hadn't really had time to chat alone. In fact, Rickey seemed to be going out of his way to avoid just that. She didn't worry about it much, she was allowing herself to have girly daydreams. Articles from the stacks of old fashion magazines at home indicated daydreaming about boys was something normal girls used to do all the time, like from age twelve!
Her Aunt said, despite the gun and fight training, kids grew up more slowly now than before the plague. Sky was no exception, caught up with her squad team mates and movies. Fangirling on TV shows and video games. It didn't seem that long ago she was still going to Rinconada Park and playing pirates with Rickey, Sara Anne, and Raj. Boys and girls were expected to mix easily. Gender segregation was so a thing of the past. There were nev
er enough people to go around. They had kept that dynamic in their squad even after they began to mature.
The first to fall was Rickey. He just sort of sighed the word, 'boys', one day as a sophomore and he was off. Then he met Kyle and it was love at first sight for both of them.
Late in sophomore year, Raj suddenly went girl-crazy, then Sara Anne had gone girl-crazy as well. Melissa and Mary were too wrapped up in fashion to care about anyone but themselves. And Chase continued to be the soccer-mad jock he had always been.
Daphne's newest enhancements leveled up at the start of this school year. Sara Anne laughingly described it as the fifth sense, the sense of sexy. The Base doctors described it as increased pheromone production. Whatever it was, Daphne had to beat boys off with a stick. Not that she tried very hard. She was already planning on a career as a spy, trailing honeypot traps in her deadly wake.
Sky was only now, as a Junior, actually looking at boys as men-to-be. Wondering how you took those steps towards adolescent romance. What did you actually do with a boyfriend once you got one? The past few days she had been imagining Hugo helping her figure it out. 'Care and feeding of a boyfriend,' by Sinjin and Sky. No, Hugo and Sky. Sinjin was just weird. Maybe not to Brits, but it did not roll off Sky's tongue smoothly. Probably because it had the word 'sin' was in it and Sky was sort of still twelve sometimes.
“I don't know what she wants us to write,” Melissa whined.
Sky had tuned out of the conversation momentarily, visions of Hugo dancing in her head. “Who wants you to write what?”
Melissa and Mary both made faces at her.
“Mrs. Schneider,” said Mary.
“The time capsule essay thingy,” finished Melissa.
Sky groaned. “I know. She gave me back my essay and said it wasn't personal enough.”
“Me, too,” Daphne sighed.
“She liked mine,” Sara Anne gave them a superior smile.
“Let us look at it!” Sky tugged at her friend's hand. “Please.”
Sara Anne brought up the essay on her tablet. Sky and the others crowded around to read:
Time Capsule Essay
Sara Anne Simmons
Mrs. Schneider, English 303
My block has lights on it. My block has people, families, dogs and cats. There are flowers in the flower beds and in the winter, the lawns are green.
Two streets over, things are different. The houses are dark and empty.
When I was a little girl and the wind blew in the wrong direction, you could smell that street from our house. It was a street of the dead.
Though the streets are dark, they don't smell anymore. My parents don't talk about it much, but I know they and many volunteers spent an entire year clearing block after block for The Great Burning over at the city dump. That's what they called it, The Great Burning, with capital letters. When I was a little girl, there was always foul, black smoke over the Bay.
I'm not a little girl anymore. I am sixteen. Slowly, very slowly, the lights go on in more streets in our town. Flowers grow and lawns stay green in the winter.
There is no more smoke, no more smell. But there are shadows in my parents' eyes. Shadows that stay, even in the light.
Sara Anne, this is excellent. It was so evocative of both the change and what came before. Thank you for sharing. Mrs. S
“Well crap,” Mary sighed as she finished. “Damn you and your emotional depth.”
Sky moved back to her own seat. “Mrs. Schneider told me to put in more personal anecdotes.”
Daphne raised one eyebrow. “What? Like your sister's a bitch?”
Sky cracked up, Mary choked on her sports drink, and Sara Anne snorted.
“Thanks. So helpful,” she said sarcastically. “Really, I've got no idea what to say. I do my best not to analyze my life.”
Rickey wasn't smiling. He met her eyes. “Life is still scary when you think about it. We all know crazy didn't die out with the plagues.”
He spoke with such emotion, Sky put her hand on his. “You okay?”
Saying nothing more, he picked up his tray with one hand and rolled away from the table, pushing the wheels with the other.
Having the entire week off was amazing. Sky felt this must be what life was like outside the Redneck zone. Being able to put yourself instead of your country first. Then she would feel guilty and slap herself mentally upside the head. It wasn't like she was a prisoner with no choices in some Stalinist utilitarian society where everybody wore brown. She was freer than most. No lottery winning numbers to pray for, no transfusions from shady blood brokers draining the bank account, no tiny coffins to cry over.
At the height of the plagues there had been no other choice except to appoint Negatives to key positions in government, the newly nationalized utilities and the military. That was not going to change anytime soon.
That afternoon she'd decided to finish the bio project as much as possible. Caroline got permission to go to base a little late so they could finalize the pictures for their presentation and work on the introduction and conclusion. She wasn't a total parasite. The girl had done her research on deer populations before the plagues. There was a lot of data and they were working on interpreting and applying it to the current situation. It was due Monday and it was a good thing Sky had the extra time off from Tactical to work on it and other school stuff. Her friends didn't even try to hide their jealousy.
Hugo came into the library soon after Caroline headed out. Before she even saw him, she knew he was there. Stepping on some hidden trip wire right to her senses. Right on cue, her ghost dog Alex popped into spiritual being and trotted off in his direction.
He spotted her, too. He looked serious, neither smiling nor waving. He was wearing a slightly oversized striped, button-down shirt in blue and gray half tucked into his usual jeans, his hair tossed this way and that almost covering one eye. She pretended to be absorbed in her school work, crossed her legs and turned back to the screen. A few seconds later he tossed his backpack at her feet and pulled a chair over from the next table.
“Hi.”
She gave him a narrowed eye look, not sure what was going on. “Hi, I guess.”
“You guess? Is that because you have not quite decided to greet me or not?”
“Maybe. You've been very not here since our safari adventure yesterday. I was a little surprised. I thought we were becoming friends.” She adopted a fake British accent, “'Oh, call me Sinjin, all my friends do.” She gave a deliberate shrug of indifference.”Whatever. Was that your mother? The one yelling at you on the porch?”
He ran his hands through his thick hair making it look even more attractive and sighed. “You saw that, did you?”
“Yep. ”
He shrugged.
Watching his face, Sky thought that the conversation appeared closed.
He pointed to her tablet and the windows open on the screen in front of her. “Safari project?”
“Yeah. And the time capsule essay for sociology. My teacher wants me to make it more personal. And you? Do you have homework? Or do the teachers just hand you an 'A' based on your charming personality and winning smile?”
“See? That's why I like you so much.' He leaned down to rummage through his faded black backpack, pulling out his tablet computer plus a small notebook and pen. “That wit of yours. Your family must be British. Americans usually don't get that idea of cutting repartee.”
She made a face at him and he gave her a brilliant smile.
They both settled to their schoolwork. Hugo showed her his research paper on the survivalist enclaves in the Dakotas, Montana, and Colorado. Those that were documented, at least. Not that it did them much good.
“After twenty years their stocks had gone,” he spoke quietly, bringing up a graph. “You can see most of them were abandoned. Keeping yourself alive frontier style is difficult.” Tapping another screen up on the monitor, he pointed. “This is the documented survival rates for those that came into the cities. Those that
were tracked, at least, in a government study.”
Sky shook her head over the numbers. “Oh, not good at all.”
“Isolation is not always a protection. No immunity built up like people living in a more mixed community. Even after receiving the vaccine, their die-off rate was, is, very high.”
He tapped up an online news article Sky had seen before. A few ragged survivors trickled out one summer and stumbled into the nearest town. Somehow the virus had managed to sneak into their enclave and wipe out nearly everyone. Above ground or underground. There was no escape when plague season descended. It was as much a matter of luck, breeding, and medicine if you survived, it seemed to Sky. At least for Positives.
Stealing a look at Hugo's handsome features, she felt a sudden shiver of fear. He should have died before his fifth birthday. Every winter could be his last. Even this one.
“Why haven't you had a full transfusion?” Sky tapped his azure AB Positive bracelet. If he'd had the complete replacement of specially treated blood, it would be red, showing he was clear.
“We haven't won the lottery yet.”
“But your dad...”
“Is what? Important? He has to take his turn like anyone else. We have the same lottery system in England. If he somehow arranged for that much blood to go missing from the hospital, it would be spotted, he'd go to prison. That doesn't mean he doesn't use me as a guinea pig.”
“Yes, you said he gives you transfusions.”
“Anyway, enough of that.” He pointed again at the monitor. “You do realize this is government propaganda, don't you?”
“What is?” Sky had lost the thread of the conversation.
He put one hand on the screen, over the wretched, dirty faces of the survivalists. “This. In order to encourage assimilation and get your flu shots.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course it is. How is that wrong? The government has a pretty deep interest in keeping more citizens alive.”
“And in a more controllable environment than an isolationist camp.”
Sky pushed back her chair and looked Hugo in the eye. “I think they're cowards. The people who hide. We need everyone to pull together, help the government, the infrastructure, and their neighbors recover.”
