“Where’s your child?” Ellie asked.
Alexis sighed. “With my boyfriend. It’s about the only thing he can handle. He’s good with the kid, I’ll give him that. But we need milk. The little brat eats well enough, but I can’t produce any. Too hungry.”
“I’ll ask my dad to help you.”
Alexis sneered. “Seriously? All he does is follow in Booker’s shadow like a little pet dog. But it doesn’t matter how many times he tells us everything’s going to be alright—we still have to wake up in this hell-hole every morning. Get in line, bring it home, go to bed, get in line. But I guess this doesn’t affect you. I bet he looks after his precious daughter.”
“Hold on,” Ellie said. “It hasn’t been exactly a box of chocolates for us, either. We were at sea when the wave came in, and we only found out that Joel was alive a few weeks back.”
“Yeah, well, when you’re forced to live in a one-room dive with no sanitation…”
Jodi took her hand. “Lexi, I’m sorry. I really am. But, look, we’re not here to sponge off Dad. We’re on a mission.”
“Jodi!” Ellie snapped.
“What sort of mission?”
Jodi glanced at Ellie. “I can’t say much. But you know there’s still a president? A real president of the United States?”
“There isn’t a United States, don’t you get it?”
“There could be. President Buchanan will bring us together again.”
Alexa shook her head. “It’s too late for that. Living day to day, that’s all people care about.”
“What about your baby?” Ellie asked. “Doesn’t he deserve a future?”
“What he deserves and what he’ll get aren’t the same thing. You’ve got no idea of what we have to do just to survive. I’m going back to the line.”
She climbed down and began walking back.
“Let me go and get what you need,” Jodi said. “We can give you a lift back.”
Alexis looked as though she was going to argue, but thought better of it. “Thanks. If you can get my supplies, that’d be good. But I’ll walk home.”
“But it’s so cold.”
“I’m used to it.”
They walked in silence back to the restaurant. Jodi wrote down Alexis’s list with a ballpoint pen on her wrist, then took the permit and showed it to the police officer on the door before disappearing inside.
“How did you know Jodi?” Ellie asked as they waited.
“Oh, back in the day we were friends. Sort of. Went to the same parties, dated the same boys—not at the same time.” For the first time since they’d met, Ellie saw her face break into a smile. Then she sighed. “It’s not her fault she’s landed on her feet.”
“Honestly, Lexi, we’re not here on vacation.”
“This mission she was talking about?”
“Yeah. I don’t know whether it’s worth it, but we’ve got to try. I’ve got a daughter back in Ragtown and I wish to God I’d spent more time with her when I could, but now all I care about is giving her a future if I possibly can.”
Lexi nodded. “Yeah, I get you. Most of the time, I feel like I hate my life, but then my boy smiles and I realize that millions of people won’t ever get to see their kids again. And that makes me even more guilty.”
“All we can do is our best.” Ellie patted Lexi on the back, and then Jodi reappeared carrying a cardboard box.
“I got it all,” she said. “And a few extras. Maybe you’d better let us take you home, it’s pretty heavy.”
Lexi staggered under the weight, but peered inside and smiled. “That’ll last us a week. Thanks!”
When Joel returned, he quickly crumpled under Jodi’s insistence that they take Lexi home. The image that remained in Ellie’s mind however, was of the writing on the side of the cans of infant formula nestled inside the box in the trunk of the car. The Chinese were now feeding American babies.
Chapter 13
Betrayal
His waking mind hadn’t heard it, but he knew it wasn’t a dream. Bobby rolled over and poked the snoring Yuri in the ribs, then put his hand over the Russian’s mouth to stop him crying out.
“Be quiet!” he hissed. “I heard someone moving.”
Yuri pushed his hand away. “So what? Maybe is Harlon? He is old. Needs bathroom in middle of night.”
“It’s not him, not unless he’s wearing boots inside.”
They lay silent in the darkness until Bobby began to wonder if he’d imagined it. Then he heard the low whispering of voices; deep, urgent voices.
Without a word, Bobby and Yuri climbed out of bed as silently as possible. Neither had undressed, so they slipped on their boots and crept over to the door, pressing their ears against it.
Bobby made out Harlon’s voice, then he heard Carlie-Sue’s. Then a third voice he didn’t recognize. And a fourth.
And then the sound of a rifle bolt being pulled back.
“What we do?” Yuri whispered.
“Find something to fight with.”
Bobby felt his way back to the bed and grabbed the table lamp, ripping it from its socket and handing it to Yuri, before running his hands along the top of a dresser drawer until he found something heavy and round.
He was just moving back to where Yuri waited when the door exploded inward, a booted foot appearing, followed by a rifle. Yuri disappeared behind the door, flattened against the wall, and Bobby swung the hunk of metal—it turned out to be a model airplane—crunching into the intruder’s head and sending him sprawling backward with a single groan.
Another figure stepped over the first, sweeping his rifle butt around just as Bobby ducked and grabbed the attacker around the waist. He fell backward as his opponent kicked out and metal flashed in the dim light from the hallway. Bobby landed on the dusty carpet, the blade of a dagger appearing beside his head, embedded in the floor.
“Stop strugglin’ or I’ll put a bullet in you!” the man spat in his ear.
Bobby thrust his elbow back, but his opponent was ready for it, swaying back, and Bobby felt cold metal against his temple.
“I said stop. I don’t want to mess up Carlie-Sue’s house, but I’ll paint her wall with your brains if you don’t st—”
A thunk sounded from above and the man’s weight fell away from Bobby, who turned over to see Yuri standing above him, wielding the table lamp.
Bobby grabbed the dagger in one hand and the gun in the other and stepped into the hallway, then fell back under a shower of splinters.
“You idiot!” Carlie-Sue’s voice called out. “Don’t wreck the house! Shoot the Chicano!”
Bobby jumped over the prostrate body of the first attacker and launched himself at Harlon, who fell back, then tripped and landed on his backside, pushing a kitchen chair over as he collapsed.
“Don’t move!” Bobby snarled, raising the gun to Carlie-Sue, who’d turned away, heading toward where the dogs were barking and scratching at the kitchen door. He kneeled and picked up Harlon’s shotgun before stepping back and glancing along the corridor.
Yuri appeared at the bedroom door holding a rifle and covering the two attackers.
“I told you to call the militia,” Carlie-Sue spat as Harlon climbed to his feet, rubbing his back.
Harlon moved across to stand beside his sister. “I thought the boys could handle it.”
“Yeah, well, those boys couldn’t handle a drinkin’ contest in a brewery. And now these…these…scum are gonna rob us and kill us.”
Bobby called Yuri over. “Watch them.”
He went back to the bedroom as the man Yuri had hit was just sitting up and rubbing his head. The first attacker was still out cold. “Pull him inside,” he said.
The man cursed at him, but then Bobby brought the gun around and aimed it at his skull. “Do as I say, or make things easy for me and give me one more reason to put a bullet in your head.”
The man saw the rage in Bobby’s eyes and, in an instant, his attitude flipped. “Hey, this weren’t
my idea!”
Bobby nodded at the unconscious figure. “Pull him inside.” He watched as the man complied. “Now, get the cable off that lamp and tie him up.”
“But he’s hurt real bad. I reckon his skull’s cracked.”
“It’ll have a hole in it if you don’t do it.”
The man dragged the body across the floor until it was beside the bed, then ripped the cord out of the lamp and, as Bobby watched, tied it around the first attacker’s wrists.
“Is Norville okay? Billy-Ray, do you hear me?”
Bobby didn’t respond to Carlie-Sue’s pleas. He was still fueled by rage and adrenaline and a long way from giving a damn about whether their attackers lived or died.
“Get on your feet,” he said, gesturing at the conscious attacker. “Time to tie them up.”
Pure terror spread over the man’s face. “I ain’t doin’ that! Auntie Carlie-Sue’ll kill me!”
“If you don’t, I’ll kill you.”
“Or I will,” Yuri added.
“You are a commie!”
Yuri nodded grimly. “Da. I am Russian spy. You are not on my target list. Yet.”
It took a lot of cussing but, finally, Carlie-Sue, Harlon and the two attackers—the unconscious Norville and Billy-Ray—had been bundled into the bedroom, and Bobby had checked they were all tied up securely.
“Are you gonna shoot us?” Carlie-Sue said as she sat back to back with Harlon.
“No,” Bobby responded as he straightened up.
“Then, what are you gonna do?”
“Nothing.”
Harlon twisted around to look at Bobby. “You’re just gonna leave us here?”
“Yeah. Frankly, I should put a bullet in every one of your boneheaded skulls. I’m scum, after all.”
“But we’ll starve!” Billy-Ray whined.
But Bobby had turned around and reached the door.
“You better get a long way away,” Carlie-Sue snarled, her face contorted with rage. “Because when I get out of here, I’m comin’ for you. My dogs can pick up a trail from miles away.”
Bobby shrugged. “Then maybe I’d better shoot them before I leave. They’re only dogs, after all.”
“No!!!”
Bobby slammed the door shut, heaved the pack over his shoulder and nodded to Yuri.
“We should finish off dogs, you know that?”
“I know it,” he said, as he walked off along the corridor to the accompaniment of muffled shouts and screams from within the room.
Two shots echoed through the little house, and all other sounds died with them. Bobby walked back into the hallway with the guns Harlon had confiscated. Yuri looked at him, white faced, as Bobby stared fixedly back at him, his jaw set and hatred boiling in his heart. Hatred of the people cowering in the bedroom who’d forced him to do what he had to do, even though he felt as though it had cost him his soul.
#
They ran out the back door of the ranch house into the gray of the predawn. The moon had disappeared, and the sky was blank and free of stars.
“Snow is coming,” Yuri muttered as they crossed to the gate where they’d been stopped by Harlon the previous night.
Bobby ignored him, leading the Russian to the intersection, then heading toward the city, boots crunching on frozen ice and snow.
After jogging along for ten minutes, he stopped at a call from Yuri. “For God’s sake, stop! Can’t keep up.”
Bobby waited for his friend, engulfed by his foggy breath and the darkness he felt inside. He didn’t like dogs, especially those that were big and aggressive, but they hadn’t deserved that.
Yuri put his hand on Bobby’s shoulder, leaning on him and drawing in deep breaths.
“I’m sorry,” Bobby said. “I forgot.”
“Is okay. I understand, my friend. But is not your fault.”
“How do you work that out?”
Yuri let out one final cloud of steam. “Is not your fault that dogs belonged to scum like that. Who knows, they could be chasing us now. You did right thing. Sad, but right. Now, come. We must go in unexpected direction.”
“I guess so. We told them we were heading downtown, but we’d better not take the direct route. Let’s take a left here. You ready?”
Yuri grunted. “No, but I will come. And, my friend, are you ready?”
Bobby nodded grimly. “Let’s get this done.”
“Da. Let’s get it done.”
They stopped an hour later, sheltering in an abandoned car workshop Yuri had spotted. Bobby pushed the doors open and they found a couple of crates to sit on while they searched in their packs.
“Remember oatmeal?”
Bobby smiled at the memory. “Yeah. That was good. No time to light the camping stove now, though.”
Yuri put a plastic pack in Bobby’s hand. “Here, I think of everything.”
“Seriously? Isn’t this yours?”
“You need it more than me. Please, you have it.”
Bobby took the pack and massaged it, waiting for the oatmeal inside to warm up. He handed over a pack of beans and sausage which made a pretty good consolation prize for Yuri. “American beans are good. Sausage, not so much. Give me kolbasa any day.”
Smiling, Bobby got up and peered out of the gap between the workshop doors. His eye caught a sheet of white paper stapled to the outside.
“What’s that?” Yuri called, his mouth full of breakfast.
Bobby sat down and spread the paper on his knee. “A call to arms.”
Able-bodied patriots!
Assemble at Crown Hill Park.
Registration opens at 9 a.m. daily.
Weapons provided.
“No date?”
Bobby examined the paper closely and shook his head. “It can’t have been there long. Strange that there’s nothing to identify who’s organizing it.”
“No, is typical. Just the same in old Soviet countries. They wait until they have army and then put flag up. Hand out swastikas.”
“This was what Carlie-Sue was talking about. I wonder where Crown Hill Park is?”
“I think, if we keep walking, we will find it.”
Bobby nodded, then turned his attention back to the steam escaping from the top of his pack of oatmeal. He would give himself five minutes of peace to enjoy it. He silenced his internal demons, sat on the crate and accepted another packet of sugar.
They struggled on for two hours, the warming effect of the oatmeal soon wearing off. Every now and again, a vehicle would pass along one of the larger roads, forcing them to duck down and wait for it to go by. Bobby, who’d tried to compartmentalize the horror of killing the dogs, was nevertheless relieved that he didn’t have to push along listening for the sound of howling on the wind.
It was obvious that Yuri couldn’t keep going for much longer and they would have to find some shelter so they could warm themselves before moving farther into the city.
“What is that?” Yuri said, his breath misting in the air. “Affordable…”
“Inns.”
“Motel?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe they have room for us?”
Bobby shrugged. “I doubt they’re running a normal service, but we might be able to get a room for a few hours at least.”
They crossed the main highway onto a smaller road. The parking lot of the motel was covered in a deep layer of snow with only a fourth of it cleared. Soon, they were standing under the motel’s signpost looking for reception. The snow was falling heavier now, reducing the people moving back and forth to indistinct shapes.
Crossing the parking lot, they made their way to the front of the building, which had a shallow overhang that protected them from the weather.
“Howdy!”
Bobby started, then swung around to see a bearded young man smiling at them.
“Lookin’ for a room?”
“Yeah,” Bobby said.
The man shook his head. “You been to the muster point?”
&nbs
p; “No, we’re heading that way, but…” He gestured at the falling snow.
“Sure, I get it. But this hotel and all the others here are for boys ’n girls who’ve signed on the dotted line already. We’re waiting for the call to go up. You know, the call to take over? Oh, what am I sayin’? You ain’t been recruited yet, so you won’t know what’s bein’ planned. I’ll tell you what, you can come to my room and warm yerselves up a little. Then you can haul yerselves to Crown Hill Park. Could be there by nightfall, and back here in the warm tomorrow. They got temporary accommodation down there, so you won’t freeze. C’mon then.”
Bobby exchanged a glance with Yuri and they followed the bearded man along the front of the building and up to the second floor.
“Name’s Scott Grant,” he said as he opened the door to let them in. The room had two beds; one had been neatly made, and the other was covered with a pack and clothes.
Bobby introduced himself and Yuri.
“Cool! Everyone’s welcome in the people’s army. Once you pledge your loyalty to the president—the rightful president—then you’ll be one of the new patriotic heroes. It’s time to make the country again, my friends.”
Grant flicked the light on, surprising Bobby. He smiled as he filled the kettle and turned it on. “Yeah, we got power here. Some of us haven’t been able to turn on an electric light for months, but the president says we’re to have whatever we want. We’re the citizen army and we’re gonna go into battle for our country. I’ll tell ya, after scratchin’ around like a roach ever since the wave came in, I sure am glad to have somethin’ to fight for.”
“Where were you during the flood?”
“South of Seattle. What a mess. My folks stayed in one of the camps there, but I couldn’t stand it no longer. President Schultz, he treats his people good, not like the West Coasters.”
Bobby and Yuri exchanged glances, but Grant seemed to know he’d misspoken. “Look, fellas, you ain’t supposed to know about the president until after you’re swore in, okay? Don’t tell nobody I said nothing.”
Smiling, Yuri slapped Grant on the arm. “Say what?”
For a moment, Grant looked confused. Then he grinned. “I get it! Cool. I like you guys. Now, how about we have somethin’ to drink? I’ll share my rations with you if you’re short on food.”
Lost: Deluge Book 5: (A Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Story) Page 12
