Atlas (Apocalyptic Cries Book 1)

by Adalie Jordin

  His lips twitch like he’s about to grin, but he remains stoic.

  “It takes a while to plan an operation like the one we’re enmeshed in. As for your dad — coming here was his choice. He didn’t want to risk any of his men on what could be a suicide mission.”

  Suicide mission?! Titty-fucker say what…?!

  His words have me questioning though. Dad always did have that ‘throw myself on a grenade’ mentality. If he thought this mission could be dangerous, I can see why he wouldn’t want to send in one of his men. But fuck, why would he put us in danger then?

  Agent Calder must see the questions flashing across my face, because he tries to fill in some gaps. “Your family is here because, while the government is not in any way gone, our resources are minimal. Though The Compound is a viper pit, it’s still a safer place for you and your brother than out there.” He points behind me with one beefy hand towards the desolate skyscrapers we can no longer see in the dark.

  It’s all too much. I'm not able to find an ounce of distrust in my body for this man I’ve only just met, and yet I can’t allow myself to fully absorb his words. This entire day has been an emotional roller coaster, starting with Luca this morning, then again after dinner, and now …. I need to think.

  “I can see you’re having a hard time with what I’m telling you. That’s understandable. This is a lot to take in at once. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon — this is my mission now. We can pick this up later after you’ve had a chance to reflect on it a while.”

  He stands up, quite gracefully for someone of his stature I might add, and reaches down to help me do the same.

  “I respected your father, Saedie. He was a good man. I am truly sorry he’s gone.”

  “Th-thank you.”

  “Mm.” Releasing my hand, he leads us back into the building. “I’ll be around when you’re ready to talk. Just be cautious on who sees you approach me. I may have been able to gain access here as an able-bodied worker, but they’ll be watching me closely for a while.”

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll, er, talk to you later.”

  I go back to the observatory, his words and allegations ringing in my ears. I don’t even notice the hulking shadow stalking my steps, only breaking away once I’m safely ensconced inside. If I had, I can’t say what my reaction would have been.

  CHAPTER 11

  The next morning, I fumble about entirely too early, gathering up clothes for washing day. I’m fucking exhausted.

  I hadn’t been able to sleep with all the implications and connections my mind was making.

  Thinking back, I could remember Dad straight up insisting we needed to stay at that convenience shop off old I-90. He got super stressed when I’d suggested my old campus instead, and Mom agreed. I’d argued it was more secure, likely had canned food that hadn’t yet been ransacked, and frankly…. Was a lot flipping cleaner.

  Now, I’m not snobby, nor have I ever been. I know how to ration and be grateful for what I have, but that shop — it was bad. Human feces and urine lined the floor of the single, unisex, bathroom that of course didn’t work, but had the rest of the store reeking. Somebody had already come through and pretty much stripped the place. We’d only been able to scrounge up a few dry goods that had been stashed in the manager’s office, and there was nothing but energy drinks in the liquids department.

  Definitely not conducive to staying hydrated.

  Dad had been adamant though. Reasoning that my old community college could be overrun with Zerks, considering how many students it once housed. He made sense, so I stopped objecting. Mom just wanted off her feet, so she’d gone along with it as well.

  If his reasoning had more to do with Nyler’s men — damn, that’s some sheer manipulation on his part.

  I get what Agent Calder said, we are without a doubt safer within The Compound’s walls than we would be beyond them, but I hate being duped. Manipulated. It’s a sucky way to remember the man I’m coming to admire.

  Snatching up a wayward pair of underwear hiding under a seat, I shove them down into my drawstring laundry bag. I don’t have a lot of clothes, but what I do have, I try to take care of. There’s little that’s more degrading than having to dig through hand-me-downs who knows how many other people have worn - and not washed - to find something that covers all the good bits.

  I loved Goodwill back in the day - what starving college student didn’t? - but at least they had ensured their clothes were clean before placing them on a rack.

  I’d stumbled across shit stained tighty-whities the first time I dove into The Compound's lost and found.

  No fucking thank you.

  Each of the four dorm buildings has a laundry room in the basement, rigged up to work without the use of coins since currency means next to nothing now. Before The Incubator decided to go cunt-out, I would have used the ones in Dorm 4, but now I have to take my load to 2.

  Admittedly, there are less people assigned to this dorm, which makes almost no wait time most weeks, but it also means I run the risk of running into Commander Nyler.

  Dorms 1 and 3 have machines so banged up, they’ll eat your underthings and send them into a fucking portal or something — never to be found again. I need my socks and underwear to last, not disappear.

  Thankful there didn’t seem to be anyone about today, I dump my meager load into a washer at the farthest end of the room. It houses three sets in all, but using this one means I can keep an eye on the entry, and not have any open space at my back.

  Rationing out a small amount of detergent, I set it to Light Load and pressed Start.

  I’d charged my phone and brought it with me, in the hopes I could go through the pictures I’d taken the other night and see if I can glean any more information from them. So as I sit down in a metal folding chair, I pull it out and open the gallery app.

  Most of the preview thumbnails look pitch black, and my stomach drops.

  Don’t tell me I didn’t fucking get anything!!

  I’d been too drawn out to even check them the night I’d snuck into the sports complex.

  “Fucking shit balls!” I grind out, scrolling through more and more unusable pictures.

  “Now that’s not proper language for a little gal like you.”

  I drop my phone, scrambling to pick it up and lock the screen before flicking my eyes to the doorway.

  “I…” It’s Mr. Penguin! Of all the shitty luck! “Sorry, I just lost some photos that meant a lot to me.” I hedge, trying to keep the quiver out of my words. I’m not afraid of him, not in the least, but the shock of seeing him in the daylight — knowing he’s not a figment of my imagination — fuck.

  “Ah, I see.” He waddles further into the room, dragging a plastic basket full of clothes behind him. “Don’t think I’ve seen you down here before. You new to the building?”

  Small talk I can do. “Nah, just like the machines here better. Old Bertha is a kind washer and doesn’t eat my clothes.” I say, tapping the top-loader beside me.

  A calculating gleam enters his beady eyes. “Mm, yes, that she is.”

  I wonder what’s going on in that craggy mind of his. I’m not sure I like the way he’s looking at me, either way.

  Another thought strikes as the awkwardness stretches: Has he found whatever he was supposed to locate?

  “You mind watching mine for me while I go get some other things done?” Watching his… He points down at the hamper. Oh. He wants a maid. “I could arrange for you to get extra rations at lunch.”

  Bribery? This early in our relationship? How you’ve done me wrong, Mr. Penguin. I don’t play like that.

  “I don’t mind watching them. Don’t worry about the rations, though, I’m sure someone will need them.” I add. He grimaces at the slight but doesn’t comment on it. “I’m only staying until my own are done though. I have things to do as well.”

  “That’s fine, that’s fine. I won’t be overly long.”

  After starting up his clothes in the mach
ine next to mine, he meanders out of the room without a word of thanks.

  Sketchy bastard.

  I feel somewhat sheepish for the thought, because I don’t actually know if this guy is as bad as I assume.

  Is innocent until proven guilty still a thing? Maybe. I bet I could ask Agent Calder.

  “Ugh!”

  Looking over my phone to make sure there’s no lasting damage from my clumsiness, I get back to scrolling. Ninety-five percent of the pictures I took are too dark to make out… I’m really starting to wish I’d splurged on one of those mega-expensive smart phones with nighttime imaging Before. Damn.

  Relief washes through me as I come across a few with a clear foreground and background. None are from the secret door, but I do have several of poor Gladys and the furnace room as evidence.

  Thank fuck for that.

  I’ll need to go back tonight or tomorrow and sleuth some more, to make up for what I didn’t get.

  Now that I know Commander Nyler has been under watch of the U.S. government for longer than even this ordeal has existed, I’d ideally like to have something to show Agent Calder if — and only if — his tale proves true.

  ◆◆◆

  It takes about an hour and a half for my small load to be finished. And because I’m a nice person, I switched over Mr. Penguin’s clothing from the washer to the dryer before gathering up my stuff to leave.

  Mr. Penguin hadn’t reappeared, and I’d told him I wouldn’t stay, so I don’t feel any guilt as I take my wardrobe back to the observatory and set out to get breakfast. AKA caffeine.

  I’m not a ‘morning meal’ type of girl — I don’t eat lunch most days either — but if I make it to the caf. early enough, the volunteer cooks will have put out the sludge-y substance that passes for coffee around here. I can really use some right now, even if it’ll likely make me gag.

  Standing in queue for the liquid tar, I take the time to people watch the other Compound members as they meander through the cafeteria. Several are just starting their day, while others are about to turn in, fresh off some night duty or other. It’s a hodgepodge of individuals, ones that likely would have never graced the same breathing space Before. A few of them wave, and I return the gesture, not wanting to be rude.

  Out of the fifteen or so people milling about, one in particular catches my eye, and when I realize who it is, I have no clue how I didn’t notice him sooner.

  Agent Calder’s bulky frame is squeezed into a much-too-small chair at the back of the room, alone. And he’s watching me. Our gazes clash and heat flushes my face, making me want to look away. His stare is intense, and he’s not breaking eye contact now that I’ve seen him. I’m not sure if I should take that as an invitation to head his way, or a warning to steer clear.

  Going for the latter, remembering his words from last night, I grab a throw-away cup off the stack and quickly fill it with burning hot sludge. Literally. Chunks of crud make clomping noises as they drop down with force into the styrofoam container.

  A shiver rolls through me at the sound, and it’s not the pleasant kind. I have to fight my revulsion as I add sugar substitute and mix it all together.

  The caffeine is worth it. The caffeine is worth it.

  Taking my first tentative sip, my face scrunches up in disgust.

  “That bad, huh?” Luca’s question comes from behind me, and I nearly spill my drink. Jesus, how are so many people getting the drop on me today? I must be more exhausted than I thought. And wait — he’s speaking to me in a public place? What’s changed since yesterday?

  Too much.

  I decide to go along, for now, holding the cup up between us for his inspection. “Are you kidding me? Are you telling me you actually enjoy drinking this shit?”

  He chuckles at my clear aversion, shaking his head as he grabs his own serving. “Not a bit, but I at least know how to make it look like I do.”

  As if to prove his point, he takes a long drag, not wincing once.

  How the fuck? He didn’t even add sugar!

  “You’re a beast.” I droll in mock awe.

  A laugh bursts from him, a grin lighting up his face and causing the cleft in his chin to become more pronounced. It’s the first full smile he’s given me, and I stare for a minute before forcing myself to look away.

  Cool it, she-bits.

  “It’s not that hard, New Girl. I wouldn’t want to offend the lovely cooks.” He tosses the two volunteers behind the counter a wink and makes a motion for me to follow him outside.

  I do, but not before throwing a glance at Agent Calder, still silently brooding in the back of the cafeteria. He’s watching my progress across the room with Luca, a frown marring his handsome features.

  Not my problem. If he has an issue with Luca, he can share it with me later. He had ample opportunity to warn me off from him last night, but didn’t, so he’s SOL.

  I might not have believed him, but still.

  Once outside, Luca leads me along the leaf strewn sidewalk to a grassy area off the beaten path. As we sit under a tree that’s barely clinging to its last few leaves, a brisk wind rattles the branches, causing pieces of my hair to fall from the ponytail securing it, tickling around my face. I snuggle deeper into my sweater.

  “Did you need to talk about something?” I ask, trying to figure out why we’re here. Together. Where anyone walking by can see us.

  “Not really. I just didn’t like the way the new recruit was staring at you so I thought I’d step in.”

  Agent Calder?

  “Who?”

  “The big burly guy from the stairwell. The two of you were locked in a pretty intense stare down when I came in.”

  I struggle to give off an air of nonchalance — I don’t want him to look too deeply into Agent Calder, for obvious reasons. It’d be just my luck to out the man here undercover without even meaning to.

  Shifting trains of thought, I stare into Luca’s deep blue eyes, getting lost in them for a few breaths of time before catching myself and looking away quickly. Despite his churlish behavior, Luca had stolen a little piece of my heart with his kisses, and I don’t want to stomp down anything that may come - if it ever does - by seeming too interested in someone else. I’m torn.

  I go for a noncommittal shrug. “I felt his gaze, and was trying to figure out who was giving me the chills. You know the feeling I’m talking about… where you feel someone staring and itch to know who it is.” Tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, I finalize my zero-acting-skills performance with a whopping, “No biggie.”

  Luca seems suspicious, but he doesn’t press me further, thank goodness. “Are you going to pick your training back up soon?”

  Hmmm. Am I?

  “I might.”

  “If that isn’t a completely vague answer, I’m not sure what would be,” he jokes, dark chuckle ringing out across the lawn. “Why the reluctance? You were doing well.”

  Deciding to get real, I drag my focus from where I’d been staring at the grass and up to Luca’s questioning gaze. “Luca… Look. We made out, we talked, we got to know each other better. And that’s great! I’m not saying it isn’t. But you’ve been acting pretty shady with all of your ‘I can’t tell you’, ‘it’s to keep you safe’ jargon.”

  I shrug again, “I’m a person who likes answers… and you’re not giving them.”

  He appears crestfallen, but something about it seems almost…. Fabricated. Like he’s only showing me the emotion he thinks I want to see. It raises my guard.

  “New Girl, Saedie, there are things I want to tell you but I genuinely can’t. We’ve been over this.” His bottom lip juts out, and I’m done. Pouty is not a good look for a full grown man. Not in this context anyway.

  Standing up, forgotten coffee in hand, I offer him the smallest of smiles. “That’s all well and good, Luca. Come and find me when you’re ready to stop being so secretive. Look around you, we don’t have time for shit like that anymore.”

  With that, I turn and
leave, going about my day in aggravated silence. I’d thought the events of the other day meant we’d stepped past some invisible barrier, and that Luca would start being honest with me…. Apparently, I was naive.

  CHAPTER 12

  A few nights later, I’m once again camped out behind the storage boxes in The Compound’s sports complex. I’d come earlier in the evening this time, hoping to see some extra activity, and I hadn’t been disappointed.

  Not ten minutes after arriving, two body bags were transported up from ‘the depths’ and, I’m assuming, taken to the incinerator. I didn’t follow to find out — I wasn’t up for the challenge today.

  A few individuals in personal protective equipment had come and gone, but no one had spoken, so I couldn’t identify a single one. I had no clue if one of them was the same PPE-dude from the other night or if they were all new, random people.

  I’ve been sitting here a full four hours, and my ass is starting to throb on the cold floor, letting me know I need to get moving soon. I’d watched people type in codes to the pad enough times to realize they all had their own entry sequences.

  A shame. But I can work with it. Kenji had rigged up a code-copier for me last night, no questions asked. She’s a fucking tech genius, I’ll give her that. Especially considering her lack of supplies post-apocalypse. If I’m somehow able to plant it on the side-panel, the thing will store any data input over a twenty-four-hour period, and I can potentially hijack one of the passwords for my own gain.

  The problem is, the people coming and going aren’t doing it on any kind of schedule. Their movements are completely random, and its making finding a gap in their activity harder to guess at. I really freaking need them to get organized with their fuck-shittery already.

  Jeez.

  Another hour passes with only one person leaving. The in and out traffic is slowing down enough that I’m confident in my ability to move about for bit. I wait a beat to see if they’re coming back, and when I hear no significant signs of life, I creep out from behind the boxes.