There were few others on the street. Those that were braving the rain showed no intention to stop and help, most too focused on reaching their own destination, if they even had one.
The ragged group soon reached a stretch of houses. Nearby was a small church and a hardware store. Everything appeared abandoned.
"Okay, everyone split up and search a different house," Gresson said. Michael and Marie headed for one of the houses and Adam, Alice, Sean, and Gresson each went for the others. The tattooed woman put down Jake.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
"My chest feels like it's on fire, I'm bleeding to death, and it's raining. 'Super-dooper' is probably the best way to say how I'm feeling," Jake grunted.
"To be honest, I don't give a damn about your comfort. I'm asking to see if you're still conscious, to see if you still remember who you are."
"Ah. Yeah, I'm still all here."
The two of them silently waited for several minutes as the rain continued to pour. Jake made an attempt to lay down, but the woman forced him to sit up.
"Fine," he groaned. "So while we're sitting here, I might as well ask. What's your name?"
"Lashira," she replied. "People usually call me Lash, though."
"Lash, huh? Is it fair to assume with a name like that, your hardcore get-up, and that nice big tattoo, that you weren't exactly a white-collar worker before all this went down?"
"I gave it a try once. It didn't take."
"Tell me about it," Jake replied, shaking his head. He gritted his teeth as the movement flared up more pain in his chest.
"You seemed kind of friendly with Mr. Damien back there. Were you two buddies? Before he gave you that, I mean," Lash said, pointing to Jake's wound.
"Heh. Yeah, something like that," Jake replied.
They both turned as Marie and Michael stepped out of the house.
"Nothing in there," Michael called out.
"Not here either," Sean said, coming outside as well.
Alice soon followed with towels. "We should be able to control the bleeding with these," she said. She ran over to Jake and used the towels to apply pressure.
Everyone else soon left their respective houses, Adam being the only one to report that his house had been occupied. Those inside, however, had given him directions to a nearby pharmacy.
As everyone prepared to move again, a man dressed in torn formal attire stepped out of the nearby church. He was bald, tall and dark skinned, with bright blue eyes. "Can I help?" he called.
"Not unless you have medical supplies," Alice replied.
"Then come on in," he said, waving the group inside. Lash carried Jake as everyone followed the man to the church and through the large doors. The sign above them read 'Williams Street Baptist,' named after the adjacent roadway.
The man from the church led them inside to the sanctuary, past the pews, and up to the altar. With one hand, he brushed several miscellaneous objects off of it. They clattered onto the carpet floor.
"Lay him here," he said. Lash did as asked. The man took a second to examine Jake's wound, then ran out of the sanctuary, saying "I'll be right back with what we need."
"Don't... don't let him sacrifice me on this thing," Jake moaned.
Gresson wondered if he was merely being funny or if his mind was slipping. Jake began to chuckle to himself, making neither an obvious answer.
A few seconds later the man returned, carrying a first aid kit and a duffle bag. He opened the bag and presented it to the group. It was packed with medical supplies. Gresson immediately got to work. As he patched and stitched Jake's wounds with incredibly fast fingers, Michael stood alongside him, occasionally wiping away the blood.
Seconds into the process, Jake let out a howl and said, "Hey! Something... for... the pain." Gresson obliged with a numbing spray and a few minutes later had disinfected and closed up both sides of Jake's wound. Michael was impressed with Gresson's handiwork. Besides the need to heal and some minor pain, Jake would be fine. Once Marie's neck had also been dealt with, everyone took a seat on the pews in relief, except for Jake, who stayed resting on the altar.
"Thank you," Alice said to the man who had provided the aid.
"Don't mention it. My name's Lucas. I'm the pastor here. You folks look like you've been through a lot," he said. He motioned toward Gresson's arm and said, "You should get that taken care of, Mr. Gresson." The others looked with surprise at Lucas's calm recognition of the supposed dead man.
"You don't seem to have much trouble accepting that I'm alive," Gresson said.
Lucas shook his head. "I've seen stranger things in my life. And considering what's been happening the last few days, I'm sure you all have yourselves."
"That's an understatement," Sean said.
Gresson took a few of the medical supplies and left the sanctuary. He returned a few minutes later with his arm neatly bandaged.
"A bit shy, Mr Gresson?" Lucas asked.
"Something like that," he replied.
After a while, attention turned to Lash. Michael thanked her for her help and asked for her name.
"Lashira," she said.
"But her friends call her Lash," Jake interjected, now attempting to stand.
Gresson stood up and went to stop him. "You need to rest, Jake."
"Yeah, yeah. Just let me rest where I can hear you all at least." He sat down on the floor in front of everyone.
Continuing the conversation, Lash said, "Well, 'friends' might be an exaggeration, but yeah, people call me Lash."
"Where are you from, Lash?" Alice asked.
"Chicago, but I was in Philly when the blackout happened. Considering that you have a dead president with you, I was hoping you might tell me what's going on."
"To be honest, we don't know much either. Unless you're finally willing to share, Gresson?" Michael asked. Gresson's lack of reply was his answer. Michael continued, "Well, we are currently heading for Charleston. The company I worked for, Gimbal Systems, has..."
"You worked for Gimbal?" Jake and Lash interrupted in unison.
"Yeah, both me and Alice."
"They make some scary stuff," Jake said. Michael shrugged.
"So I assume these two are your kids?" Lash asked, nodding at Adam and Marie. Michael then introduced them, along with Sean.
Once everyone had said hello, Lash asked, "So, what about Charleston?"
Michael cleared his throat, then continued, "Right. Gimbal has a building there that Gresson says has something that can help us. Not sure how, considering that everything electronic is destroyed."
"Not just destroyed. I was with a mechanic friend of mine in Philly after the blackout. He said even things he builds from scratch don't work," Lash said.
Michael sat back for a moment. "Don't work how?"
"Everything just fried as soon as he tried to put it together. He said it's like there is some kind of interference or something. Like an 'E.N.P.' or something, just that it keeps going. Does that make any sense?" Lash asked.
"An E.M.P., actually. But, I doubt that's what this is. It must be some kind of interference field, though. And something must be emitting it." Michael turned to Gresson and said, "And we're going to Charleston to get what we need to turn it off, aren't we?" He said it more as a statement than a question.
Gresson didn't answer. He was now checking through the medical supplies to see what Lucas had managed to procure.
"Why all the secrets?" Jake asked Gresson.
While Gresson did not reply, Michael said, "He told us there are others he works with. People who he apparently needs permission from to do much of anything."
The group continued to make small talk into the night, recalling their past few days in the brave new world the Earth had become. Jake only vaguely mentioned his relationship with the men who now lay dead on I-95. Lash recalled how she had spent those days wandering the streets of Philadelphia, talking to only her mechanic friend and a few others in a hopeless attempt to find out what was goin
g on. She had followed a crowd to Cherry Hill where she eventually met Gresson and the others. After they had refused her aid, she followed them, certain they would eventually need it. Gresson realized it had been her outside the gas station which had kept him up the night before.
Jake was beginning to get tired, eventually laying down on the carpet floor. Lucas brought out more than enough pillows and blankets for the group. The church had a few in storage, but Lucas explained that everything else, along with the medical supplies, had been scavenged from further downtown.
"I hope to turn this place into a shelter of sorts. The Lord can comfort their souls, but it's my job to comfort their weary bodies," he explained. The formal way he spoke was either endearing or off-putting to the others.
Once everyone was preparing to sleep, Gresson told the Cases and Sean that they would head out in the morning. Before Lash could protest, Gresson extended her an invitation to join, which she gladly accepted.
"Hey, you can't just leave me. I'm coming along too," Jake said.
"We don't have the time to take care of you," Gresson replied.
"Just be ready in the morning," Michael told Jake.
"Michael, he is injured. Extended walks everyday is not what he needs. And a group any larger than what we already have is not what we need," Gresson said.
"Look, we all need the longer breaks anyway. And we can't just..." Michael started.
"We can. We don't owe him anything. We already saved his life," Gresson said.
"Hey, you're bringing Lash along because she can handle a gun. I can too. Just let me heal, and then we'll all be able to protect each other," Jake said desperately.
"I'm sorry, Jake. But you'll be a liability..." Lash said.
"If you all end up in another showdown like you did today, and you know you will, you'll want as many barrels aiming away from you as you can get. You're walking with a dead president, for god's sake. Trouble is definitely coming, and I can help," Jake said.
After a moment of silence, Gresson said, "If you don't keep the pace, we are not slowing down."
Jake sighed in relief and nodded. "Better get some rest, then," he said. He grabbed a pillow and blankets, putting together a feasible bed.
Everyone else soon returned to their own bedding arrangements. As they began to fall asleep one by one, the rain outside slowly began to fade.
Chapter 14
Baltimore - August 9, 2072
The stained glass image of Jesus Christ was brightly illuminated by the sunlight the next morning. Alice was the first to rise, except for Lucas, who was on his knees praying with clasped hands, basking in the light. Has he been there all night? Alice wondered. There was something shiny between his hands, but Alice couldn't quite see what it was. Before this week, Alice hadn't prayed in years. For her, being back in a church was met with a mix of nostalgia and guilt. She had fond memories of her religious childhood. The songs and lines she had memorized, the smiling faces every Sunday morning, and the strong sense of community all flooded her mind. She couldn't help but feel sorry for ditching it all so many years ago. She and Michael hadn't gone to a single service together, not even for holidays, and they weren't in the minority. America's public was following the trend already set by many other developed countries in abandoning religion en masse. Yet Alice couldn't shake the feeling that some presence was out there somewhere, watching out for her and her family.
Her husband, the second to wake up, felt differently. While he respected the idea of a spiritual realm, he was saddened by the luxurious church decor he saw around him. To him, it was all a waste. The strict rules, legends, and illusory authority religion propagated were contrary to the real world and its followers suffered for it, whether they recognized it or not. His thoughts on the subject were brief, however. His back was in pain; it was used to far more comfortable, and expensive, bedding. His mind could only wander so long, before these more practical annoyances took over. He stood up and began to stretch.
The others soon rose. As they all began to clean up the bedding and pack, Lucas approached Gresson.
"Good morning, Mr. Gresson," he said, nodding.
"Lucas," Gresson replied with his own nod.
"I know it is a lot to ask, but after some soul-searching and sensing what I hope is God's will, I feel called to join you. This journey you are taking is undoubtedly of great importance..."
Gresson sighed and shook his head. "I am already uncomfortable with the amount of people I am leading. You are right, this journey is important. That means the only people I will consider to join us are those who can defend themselves."
"It's not just the physical world where you'll need protection, Mr. Gresson."
Jake had overhead the conversation and said, "Oh, please, Prez. Don't bring the nut-job with us."
Before Gresson could respond to Jake's interruption, or to him saying "Prez," Michael said, "Jake, you're the last person who should be saying who we shouldn't bring." Jake scoffed in protest. Michael turned to Gresson and said, "Look, he helped us out. Probably saved Jake, for whatever that's worth. And because of him, we have plenty of supplies."
"Are you going to try to bring along anyone who helps us on the entire trip to Charleston?" Gresson asked angrily.
"I do have many other things I've gathered in the back room. If I was able to come with you..." Lucas began to say.
"Is the preacher trying to bribe us?" Lash asked, amused.
"Not at all," Lucas replied. "I'm simply saying that if I stay here, the supplies help those here. If I go with you, the supplies help you and those we meet."
"This isn't a charity tour," Gresson said.
"I know. I believe it's more important than that. That's why I want to join you."
Gresson was frustrated. Part of him was tempted to again bring along the Cases at gunpoint and abandon everyone else. But as he looked around at the group, he saw their desperation. As hard as each of them tried to portray a facade of confidence and composure, he could see right through it. They were scared, and rightfully so. Their world had crumbled before them and now, before any of them had a chance to prepare, mourn, or even get more than a few hours of rest, they were being forced, whether by him or themselves, to travel hundreds of miles along the East Coast for a purpose they did not, and could not, understand. As he looked into their eyes and saw their fear, he could also see their hope. Hope that he would lead them to refuge from their shattered world. It was a false hope. He was certain that regardless of what was at their final destination, he was inevitably bringing them closer to death. But as he looked into their eyes, he pitied them. They needed some kind purpose, and perhaps it was his to show them the way.
"Alright," he said, though part of him already regretted his decision.
A few minutes later, they left the church. Lucas had given them all a share of the supplies, which included food, sleeping bags, blankets, pillows, clothes, and other survival items. They couldn't carry it all and much of it had to be left at the church. Lucas drew up a small sign on a piece of paper, which read, "Free. Take what you need and share with others. May God bless you," and placed it near the remaining pile in the sanctuary.
They traveled south, aiming to return to I-95. As they walked down the city streets, the mood of the public seemed starkly different than what the group had previously witnessed. Most people sat on porches or chairs on the sidewalk. There were only a few roaming the streets, which were beginning to pile up with refuse. It seemed that the city's populace had accepted this blackout as something more than temporary and knew that there was no where else to go. Signs of previous looting and rioting were everywhere, but for the most part, civility had temporarily returned. Several locations the group passed had become bartering stations, hundreds gathering to trade supplies. One shop owner had managed to hire protection, with three armed guards standing watch outside. An ordered line of apparent customers impatiently trickled in through the front door. Perched on street corners were various people offering r
eligious messages, shouting gloom and doom, and urging others to travel east, west, or south. It was apparently common knowledge that only death and destruction lay in the north. Regardless of the messages, the general mood of those passing by was calm. The city was still in a free-for-all, but, for now, violent chaos no longer ruled the streets.
The group eventually found the highway and continued to trek south.
"I'm surprised everything was so calm today. I guess people were glad to see an end to the rain," Sean said.
"It's the eye of the storm," said Lash. "Now that everyone knows nothing electronic works, there's little worth looting except food and medicine. And now that everyone is coming together, there are few soft targets left to steal from anyways. The shock may be starting to wear off, but everyone is still huddling together because they have no where else to go. Everyone feels content and secure. But in two or three weeks, at the most, food is going to be scarce. And then, hell with break loose all over again."
"Makes sense, but how do you know all that?" Jake asked.
"I've seen what desperation does to people. It's like clockwork. Enough hunger, thirst, or envy, and people will happily stab even their friends in the back," Lash said, her mind wandering to her memories. All her life she had lived with and been among the poor and hungry, the oppressed and forgotten. Desperation had been her life. As humans around her acted anything but 'human,' often for the pettiest of reasons, she had learned how weak people truly were. She knew first hand what people would do to get what they want and how much it could hurt those around them. She shook her head, attempting to purge her mind of haunting memories of years past.
They had only been on the highway for a few minutes when a large company of soldiers passed them once again. This time there were many more than before. Over a thousand armed men and woman in American military uniforms walked by on the adjacent lane heading north. Jake pointed out the "irony" that everyone was keeping with the arbitrary directions that the roads designated, but the rest of the group was occupied watching the soldiers. Among them, several makeshift wagons filled with gear were being pushed. The wagons appeared to be modified trailers.
Darkness on a Pale Blue Stone Page 8
