Smiling, Sullivan nodded. “Hard to believe, isn’t it? That’s what makes her so valuable. That and the fact she’s a qualified doctor. She’s got a grudge against Governor Schultz.”
“What sort of grudge?”
“I’ve never asked. It’s private. I’m just glad she’s here. She’s our go-between with our neighboring cells. She knows more than I do about the big picture, but don’t bother asking her. She won’t say a word.”
Bobby looked across at the medic. She was a short woman with brown hair tied behind her neck and black, round glasses perched on a stubby nose. She was so nondescript, Bobby wasn’t sure he’d be able to pick her out of a lineup an hour after trying to memorize her appearance. A perfect agent, in other words.
Yuri finished mopping up his tray of curry with a hunk of bread. “Why hide out here? In brothel?”
“It’s convenient. We’re near the intersection between 80 and 93, so we can watch traffic in all directions from nearby. And, after all, the beds here are very comfortable, though I insist on rolling out sleeping bags.”
“Well, I’m very grateful you turned up when you did,” Bobby said.
“Da, me also.”
The major looked up as Ferguson appeared at his shoulder. She handed a silver flask to him. “Here, sir. I thought you could do with a nip.”
“Is that your medical opinion, Specialist?” he asked, smiling.
“Yes sir. Though please do not share it with our guests. Infection control.”
“Ah, that’s not entirely fair, Specialist. See if you can dig out a bottle of something.”
She nodded and trotted into the next room.
“So, tell me about the ISS, Colonel,” Sullivan said, smacking his lips as he sipped on the silver flask.
Yuri’s face darkened. “Ah, that is a long story, Major. And sad.”
“I’m sorry. You had an American commander, didn’t you?”
“John Brady. A good man. American hero.”
Sullivan watched the Russian for a few moments, but before he could ask a follow-up, Bobby stepped in. “What’s the civilian situation in Wendover, Major? Do they have a working administration?”
“Technically, yes. In the same way that the towns of the wild west had mayors and sheriffs. Plenty of people have moved out, heading for Salt Lake City. SLC is more or less self-sustaining. But how long that’ll last, I don’t know. Word is, supplies are running out all over. At the moment, we’re here to help as needed, but soon enough I reckon we’ll be the only thing standing between the people of this city and civil war.”
Bobby sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I think you’re right. And in the middle of all this is the weather. It’s not so bad here, but a hundred miles south the roads are close to impassable.”
Sullivan whistled. “I wish I understood what was going on.”
“That’s why Yuri’s got to get to the president. As if the flood, ice and civil war weren’t enough, he thinks the Chinese are up to something.”
“Good God. But you probably shouldn’t be telling me this.”
“Seems to me you deserve to know what I do.”
Sullivan shook his head. “Trouble is, if I get captured…”
“Understood. Honestly, I don’t know what the president’s going to make of Yuri’s information, or what she can do about it. I’m just the sap who got stuck with him.”
Yuri, who’d been sitting with his head bowed, suddenly laughed. “Ha! Lucky American, you get some Russian culture!”
Specialist Ferguson returned with a half-full bottle of vodka and handed it to Yuri. “Blagodaryu vas,” he said. “Thank you.”
“I’m turning in,” Major Sullivan said, getting up. “Pick any empty room, but keep the drapes shut and no lights, okay?”
#
They were woken before dawn by one of Sullivan’s men, given a pack of MREs and escorted out to the parking lot in front of the brothel/casino.
Sullivan and Ferguson whispered their greetings and, along with Specialist Tanaka, they escorted their guests to their car, which had been brought from the mobile park and hidden.
Bobby shook Sullivan’s hand. “Thank you again, Major.”
Sullivan nodded an acknowledgment and then shook hands with Yuri. “Safe travels, Colonel. Be careful in SLC—that’s where you’re most likely to be stopped. And I pray your intelligence will guide our president.”
Yuri seemed lost for words, simply slapping the major on the arm.
As he took his leave of the others, Specialist Ferguson pressed a piece of paper into his palm. “This is my radio frequency. I’m in the clear at 09:00 hours each day. If you need me—us—use the callsign ‘painted lady.’”
Bobby smiled. “Got you. Thanks for everything.”
“Keep that wound clean,” she said. “Use the antiseptic and replace the dressing tomorrow. Okay?”
Bobby nodded and climbed into the car. He glanced out the rearview mirror as he headed along I-80, the sun rising pink from the highway ahead and outlining the silhouettes of their rescuers as they slunk back to their hideout.
“Good people,” Yuri said, as he settled himself, pulling an energy bar from his pack. “But few.”
Bobby nodded, keeping his gaze on the road ahead. He was thinking that the previous night had been the first in which he’d felt truly safe since he’d left Ragtown. He was thinking that Sullivan, Ferguson and the others were the first good people he’d met since then. And he was thinking that Yuri was right. There were too few of them to make any difference.
It took less than an hour to reach the salt pans. Here, the white permafrost that had coated the desert had given way to another white that stretched away in either direction. Yuri gazed from side to side, taking in the view, and then scanning the roads for any sign of pursuit.
Now and again, they passed cars heading for West Wendover and in the distance, Bobby could see other vehicles following them. None were acting suspiciously although on this long straight highway it would be easy enough to keep tabs on a vehicle without getting within a mile or so of it.
“So this is famous salt lakes? Soon we come to city of Mormons, no?”
“Uh-huh,” Bobby said. “I’ve been here a couple of times for work.”
Yuri gestured ahead. “Sullivan says many people are coming here.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me. If I was a Mormon, and the great flood happened, I’d probably head home.”
“But this place, it is in middle of desert. Where do they get water?”
Bobby shrugged. “They chose to build this city here. I guess they must have known where to find water. Deep wells, maybe. Like Sullivan said, the problem’s going to be food. But we have to avoid going through the city. It’s smack dab between us and Denver.”
Yuri pulled the route map out of the glove box and spread it across his knees. After riffling through the pages for a few minutes, he said, “Found it. Here are lakes. Here is city.”
“We’re looking for a way around.”
“We can go around, but it will be long way. Little road south, maybe fifty kilometers, then east, then south. Long way ’round.”
Bobby groaned. Sullivan’s people had filled the truck’s gas tank up, and he’d hoped to make it to Denver in a couple of days, but SLC lay like a bear trap across their direct route, and they didn’t dare go that way. He wished he’d spent time planning the journey the previous night rather than questioning Sullivan and enjoying the conviviality of safe and civilized company. But, as he watched Yuri’s finger travel across the map out of the corner of his eye, he couldn’t see an alternative. They had food, water and gas enough to complete the six-hundred-and-fifty-mile journey, but Bobby had an overriding sense of time running out; that every day’s delay might prove vital. That, perhaps, “better late than never” might prove wrong this time.
Chapter 7
Springfield
In the end, they were forced to open the doors to the office as the stench was too strong to bear. Buzz
lit the camping stove while Yen went outside to check that no light leaked through to betray their presence. Dawn was an hour away, and the first traces of gray were only just appearing on the eastern horizon.
Buzz poured a can of beans into the saucepan, its rich, sweet aroma somewhat countering the stink from their visitors—a stink they seemed unaware of. All their attention was fixed on the beans.
Ted Pope had stomped out of the church on the pretext of checking the perimeter, and Buzz was glad to see him gone. The man was losing it. Ever since Maisie’s death, he’d been on a descending path and the attack last night had brought him close to the edge. Buzz wouldn’t forget the look on Pope’s face as he looked at his palm after dropping the knife, as if unable to believe it was his.
Max, whose appetite was minimal at the best of times, was standing at the open back door of the church, watching for Yen’s return. As if Buzz didn’t have enough on his plate—Pope, Jo, a long journey and the end of the human race—he was also worried about Max. He was light-years from his comfort zone and Buzz knew that every day brought new challenges to the boy. He thrived on familiarity and would have made the perfect scientist in normal times, when every day involved going to the same lab and chipping away at humanity’s ignorance with the chisel of evidence. But there was no prospect of that world reasserting itself anytime soon. Buzz just hoped Max would survive to see it when it did.
“It’s warm enough, isn’t it?”
Buzz snapped out of his thoughts to see the girl—Reba—looking up at him like Oliver Twist, though in her case, she wasn’t even asking for more. “Yeah, sure.”
He divided the can between the three of them and watched as they devoured their modest meal. Only Otis—the adult—showed any restraint, but Buzz knew the man wished he weren’t being observed.
“Is there any more?” Wendell asked. “You got more in your packs ain’t you?”
“That’s not polite, Wen. It’s generous enough of these folks to share any of their supplies with us, however much we might like more.”
Buzz took the aluminum bowls and put them on the table. “I’ll see what else we can spare, but I want to ask you some questions first.”
“Sure,” Otis said. “But is there any chance of some coffee in the meantime? I don’t know how long it’s been since I last had any.”
“Hey Max, come in and boil the kettle, will you? And give Yen a call. Oh, and see if Ted picks up.”
By the time the kettle had boiled, Yen was standing in the church looking through the narrow windows as she listened. Pope had also returned and was haunting the door to the kitchen.
Buzz handed over the mug. “What happened in Springfield?”
Pulling the children close to him, Otis said, “You don’t need to hear this. Go and keep watch, will you?”
With obvious relief, they immediately ran past Pope and out of the back door.
Otis sipped on his coffee and sighed. “Oh, that sure is good.” Then he sighed and gestured for Buzz to follow him as he pulled up a folding chair and sat down. “Where to begin? With the flood, I suppose. Heard it on the radio and TV. Some folks got in their cars, but I didn’t figure it could reach us here. Boy, I was wrong about that.
“The TV had gone dead long before the siren went up. Then the cellphone masts must have gone. I lived in a tower block apartment and I went up to the roof. I could see it, like a gray blanket rolling in, pushing junk ahead of it until it reached the suburbs. I knew it couldn’t reach me, so I just watched as everyone lost their mind.
“I thought it’d be okay. Thought I’d head west as soon as the traffic died down, but then I began to wonder if I’d be able to make it, or if we’d end up as an island. That’s how it turned out.”
He took another deep drink.
“The power went. Then the gas. Finally, we didn’t have no clean water neither, just filthy, muddy water out of the faucet.”
Buzz watched the man as he talked in the faint glow of the approaching morning. He guessed Otis had been well-built, but now his face was drawn and gaunt, and his frame was painfully thin.
“What did you do?”
“Well, I hunkered on down. It only took hours before folks were looting, but I didn’t go out there. My plan was to wait for things to quieten down, and then to head west to see if I could find a way across. Folks on my floor were sayin’ that we was surrounded, but I reckoned I could pick my way through, even if I had to walk it.”
Buzz gestured toward the back of the building. “What about your kids?”
“My kids?” he responded, puzzled. Then he laughed. “They ain’t mine. Well, they are now. No, I never intended to have no kids before all this. Had too much fun bein’ a bachelor, if you know what I mean. I went out west, like I said, and it was impossible. I never got near the water—the highway was backed up so far. I saw folks fightin’, heard shots and turned around. Went back to my apartment and locked the door. Decided to wait it out. Thought the Feds would come.”
He made a dismissive noise.
“Boy, that was a long week. Watched my city torn apart. Looting, gang fights, fires, folks shot right below me. Then I saw those kids. Wendell and Reba. Down there on the street, in the middle of all that chaos. Well, I couldn’t see them gunned down, and I’d been alone long enough, so I went and got them. My own apartment block was like a war zone and most of my neighbors had gone, but I got those kids and brought them upstairs. Since then, we’ve been starving together.”
“That was over six months ago!”
He nodded gravely. “Yeah. We thought we’d survived the worst when a Navy ship came in to the east, but it was a small ship and trouble broke out. Nearly took it down. Never saw it again.”
“What happened then?”
“All-out war. There was no food left so it was dog-eat-dog. And there ain’t no dogs left, neither. And when they’d finished the animals, they…they started…on…”
Buzz didn’t need him to complete the sentence.
“We hid in the apartment, but I knew if we stayed there, one of the gangs would find us eventually. Or we’d starve. So we snuck out at night. Barely made it, and I saw things I wish I could forget.
“You gotta understand, Buzz. We ain’t seen no humanity for months. The people who still live in Springfield, they ain’t human. I decided I’d rather die of starvation out here than wait for the kids to be taken away or killed in front of me. We’ve survived on scraps. Eaten rats. And…I’ve done things I’ll never forgive myself for. But the cold was what finished off a lot of folks. If it hadn’t been for the kids, I’d have gone to sleep weeks ago. Even wearing the clothes of the dead, I still don’t reckon I been warm in weeks.”
He lapsed into silence as he finished his coffee. Buzz glanced over at Yen, who hadn’t moved a muscle while Otis had been speaking, though he knew she’d heard every word. Pope had disappeared again.
“You sure look like you’ve survived better than we have. Are you gonna tell me where you’ve come from?”
Buzz gave him a quick—and edited—summary of what had happened on the island since the flood.
“So, where are you goin’?”
“We’ve got a job to do in Chicago.”
“Chicago? Must be cold as the North Pole. What are you goin’ there for?”
Buzz rubbed the sleep from his face. He felt exhausted and they’d only covered a fraction of the distance. If they didn’t find a truck or a car, he’d have to admit defeat. Because Otis was right—it was getting colder as they went north.
“I’m a scientist,” he said, lacking the energy for invention. “I want to see what’s happening up there and get a pristine sample. Max and I are working on a theory.”
Otis’s face lit up and Buzz saw for the first time that he had striking green eyes. “You think you can work this all out? It’s not just an act of God?”
Buzz grunted. “No, this is very much an act of man—and woman.” He thought of Lundberg and wondered where she was now and what she
was plotting. And who she was working for. That was the other mystery he had to solve.
“Well, I wish you luck. Look, will you take us along with you?”
“To Chicago?” Buzz said, unable to hide his shock at the idea.
Otis shook his head. “No, just far enough past Springfield that we can make our own way.”
“We cannot take three extra. We would need two cars,” Yen said, finally breaking her silence.
Buzz looked across at her. A shaft of faint light was illuminating her face as she pulled the blinds open. “What are you saying?”
“We cannot leave them here,” she said. “Two are children and all three are half dead. We already knew we had to find one car, now we must find two.”
“Are you insane?” Ted emerged from the kitchen area. “We can’t take on every stray family we run across! Jeez, this is tough enough as it is. There’s too much at stake to get distracted.”
Buzz didn’t respond to either of them. “We’re heading toward Kansas City. We can take you that far, but then you’re on your own.”
“Thank you,” Otis said, his eyes flitting to first Yen and then Pope. “Thank you all.”
“But first,” Buzz said, “you need to wash.”
#
They found what they were looking for at, of all places, the public library in Springfield. From the outside, the snow-covered building looked largely untouched by the chaos of the months since the flood, but the bumps and dips in the parking lot and around the entrance betrayed its fate. As they got closer, they saw that the Romanesque arches had been punctured by bullet holes and bore evidence of having been set alight, long ago.
“Looks like there was a fight here,” Otis said as they approached cautiously. Yen and Pope had fanned out, flitting clumsily from cover to cover, encumbered by their thick coats and heavy boots.
“Well, we can’t hang around,” Buzz said. “We’re just passing through.”
They marched into what looked more like a shopping mall than a library, though the smashed panes and fallen fixtures left them under no illusion about what had happened here.
Lost: Deluge Book 5: (A Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Story) Page 6
