Deserted Lands (Book 2): Straight Into Darkness

by Robert L. Slater

  As Rachael’s warmth escaped, Lizzie took a deep breath and said, “You won’t.”

  Rachael stood, her face joyful. “I hope not.” She lay her hand on Lizzie’s belly and then scurried to the bathroom.

  Nasira came in with a hospital gown for Lizzie.

  “Do I have to?” Lizzie heard the whine in her own voice.

  “Yes,” Nasira said sternly. “I’ll be back to do a blood draw in a few minutes.” She pushed the clothing into Lizzie’s hands and left the door swishing behind her.

  Lizzie undressed to her underwear and pulled on the gown as Rachael returned. “Is there anything less classy than a hospital gown?”

  “A paper bag or a burlap sack?” Rachael’s face lit up. “I think you look cute. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything floral.”

  Lizzie stared dejectedly at the pink roses. “And you won’t ever again.”

  “Here.” Rachael spun her round. “Let me tie you up in the back so you don’t feel too exposed.”

  At least she felt cooler, but the draft was awkward.

  Rachael spun her back around. “Okay, back to bed.” She climbed under the covers on the far side and held them up for Lizzie.

  Lizzie climbed in beside Saj and squirmed toward Rachael until they were close and not too uncomfortable. Lizzie’s arm lay across Saj and rested on Rachael’s hip. “Rachael? Thanks. For everything.”

  Rachael rolled her eyes then let them close. “Like you said, you and Saj are my family.” She squeezed Lizzie gently, her hand settling on the curve of Lizzie’s waist.

  In a few moments, Rachael seemed to be back asleep, but Lizzie was wide awake and hyper. The tension of Rachael’s hand, a familiar weight on her barely covered skin, made her warm elsewhere. Lizzie slid her own hand slightly further along the curve of Rachael’s hip. It had been a long time since she’d lain so close to anyone but Saj. Desire flushed her whole body and she held her breath, not wanting to wake Rachael, in case her friend could see right through her.

  Duke wanted her, had made that clear since not long after they arrived in Utah, but he was also politely respecting her desire for space and recovery. She wanted someone to touch her there without it being an accident. Crimson colored her cheeks as she tried to think of anything else, but nothing helped. She closed her eyes, but sleep would not come.

  Chapter Ten

  ZACH DUSTED HIMSELF OFF AS HE hopped off the Collector truck to get some lunch in HQ. He felt pretty good about this morning. He’d dropped off his report, and DiSilvio had been there. The man had seemed to be impressed and appreciative. Zach figured when Lizzie found out he’d told them, he’d have to explain why he’d done it, but it felt right that he had.

  DiSilvio asked Zach a few questions, and Zach managed to compose what he thought were meaningful answers. Who knew breaking the rules would be such a great career move? He wished Nev had been in a more talkative mood, he could have used advice about the whole betraying U.S. soldiers thing, but so far so good. Nobody was talking about attacking the base, just glad to have the intel.

  Inside HQ, a tall, rangy man in a khaki uniform holding a clipboard waited.

  “Mr. Riley?” the man asked. “I’m Sergeant Ecklund. Can we talk?”

  “Sure.” Zach unsnapped the Kevlar vest and his gun belt. He’d seen the man at Captain Foote’s office. A cold knot tightened his gut, amplifying how empty his stomach was. Whatever the news was, he wished they’d at least let him eat first.

  “We’d like to invite you to join the Provo Militia.”

  Zach shoved the gear into his locker. Militia meant fighting. “I like collecting.”

  “Provo needs a defense. You’re out there. You know the dangers. If it isn’t the Independents, it’s wildlife or one of the brainless roamers. Someone needs to keep the city safe—got a girl?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Someone needs to keep her safe, right? Why not let that someone be you?”

  “You don’t think the U.S. military will come eventually?” Zach asked. Ecklund was dressed the part, someone had tailored the uniform to fit him.

  “I think most of them are dead, Mr. Riley. But if they are out there, they are taking care of their own, and they don’t give two shits about the rest of us.”

  Zach considered his words. None of the soldiers at the installation seemed to care about Provo. They had to know there were people here. He became a Collector because, at the time, it seemed to be the most important job for taking care of Nev and establishing a home here in Provo. But now the stockpile of food was growing, so maybe there were other things that needed doing. “All right, I’m in.”

  The sergeant cracked a smile and scribbled on his clipboard. “Provided you can pass the fitness test. Which I’m certain won’t be a problem. Report to the Edwards Stadium tomorrow morning at 8 a.m. sharp.”

  “I’ll be there, Sergeant.” Zach scanned the list, interested to note that one Duke Madison was listed three names above his.

  “You’re dismissed. I’ve arranged for you to have the rest of the day off. Go see your girl.”

  Zach grinned. “Thanks.”

  As soon as he got outside, Zach texted Nev. How soon r u off?

  He jogged toward downtown, kicking himself for walking to work this morning; Nev was at Mannie’s office in the downtown core and Collector HQ was on the outskirts of town.

  His phone buzzed. I’m off now. Mannie just gave me the day off and told me to find my boyfriend? What’s up?

  Tell u when I get there. Maybe they could pick up her gear and then go for a run together. It’d been a long time since they’d done that. This would be his warm-up.

  When he got to the downtown office, an ambulance with flashing lights sat outside the building. Hopefully no one was hurt. Then he saw Nev. She stood, arms crossed and not looking very happy.

  “Hey, girl. What’s wrong? Did someone get hurt?” He opened his arms to pull her into a hug.

  She shrank away. “Don’t touch me.”

  Zach took another step toward her.

  “DON’T. Go to the hospital.” She pointed at the ambulance.

  “What’s going on?”

  Nev’s mouth was a tight line. “Lizzie’s at the hospital with Saj and Rach. They want you in quarantine because of your close physical contact.”

  “Nothing happened,” Zach blurted, instantly realizing the way he said it sounded guilty.

  A man and woman in EMT gear came around the ambulance. ”Zach Riley? We are here to escort you to quarantine.”

  “Do I get a choice?”

  “No. After you’ve been tested, Dr. Wright is allowing people to be home on their own recognizance.” The woman looked expectantly at Nev.

  “Oh, no.” Nev shook her head, thunderclouds in her eyes. “You’re not giving it to me and getting me kicked out of my own house.” Her voice rose shrilly. “Go to the hospital.” She turned away.

  Zach stood with his mouth hanging open. Nev was barely holding it together. This is what he got for covering Lizzie’s ass in his report? Ratted out? He felt perfectly fine, except for the knife in his heart from Nev and the one in his back from Lizzie.

  “We need you to come with us.”

  “Can I have a few minutes?”

  “No,” the man said. “We need you to come now.” They both pulled up their masks. “Please.” He motioned to the back of the ambulance.

  “Go.” Nev said. She turned back to him, her face tight, but her eyes softer than they had been a minute ago. “We’ll talk later.”

  Relief crept into his heart, and Zach complied, climbing in the back of the ambulance. The female EMT shut the door and Zach watched Nev receding as the vehicle pulled away from the curb. He waved, pasting on a goofy smile, though his heart pounded.

  She didn’t wave back, but she stayed there, watching until the ambulance turned a corner and she was out of sight. Tears threatened as his stomach clenched. Breathe.

  The TV was on, and Lizzie lay in the hospital bed
hooked up to IV tubes for fluids. Her head tilted toward the screen, but Mannie wasn’t sure she was watching. He understood the gist of the broadcast even though the sound was off. It was Election Day. Tony DiSilvio on screen talking, with red, white, and blue blazing behind him. Neither he nor Mr. Ray claimed any party affiliations, but the political spouting was much the same—except it was more civil since DiSilvio was only running to give the people a choice.

  Doctor Wright had given Mannie a choice, home quarantine or hospital. It was an easy choice to be here with Lizzie and Saj.

  Rachael and Saj snoozed on the fold-out visitor couch. Things were a little crowded.

  “Think it’ll make a difference?” he asked, watching DiSilvio smile and talk at the same time.

  “What?” Lizzie blinked.

  “Think it’ll make a difference who gets elected?”

  “Oh.” Her gaze returned to the screen. “I like Mr. Ray, I guess. DiSilvio gives me the creeps, seems like a slimy used car salesman.”

  Mannie said, “Hhhmmmm… Really? I think Mr. Ray is the one who sold cars.” He didn’t get a good vibe off DiSilvio either. In his own head he cheered her intuition.

  “I thought Mr. Ray was a councilman or something.”

  “Yeah. I think so, but that’s usually a part time job. Probably went well with selling cars.”

  “He doesn’t seem the type.”

  Mannie shrugged. “DiSilvio is just a stooge anyway.”

  “Right, nobody will vote for him, if they can pick Mr. Ray. Everyone has some kind of savior complex for him. I want to trust him, but trusting people isn’t really my thing.”

  “Well, if we are going to live in Provo we should learn to trust the people in charge, otherwise why live here at all?”

  “Exactly.”

  Mannie didn’t like the look in her eyes. She’d obviously been having problems being confined in the little room, but refused to talk about it with him. It reminded him of the look soldiers got after being pinned down by enemy fire for too long. He should say something fatherly and wise, but all he could think of was: ‘Take it easy, soldier.’ So he kept his mouth shut.

  The numbers filtered in. Mr. Ray’s were steady in the 59% range. DiSilvio was at 27%. Wallace Taylor was doing well as a last minute write-in candidate, showing 11% and the rest shared the last 3%. Not everyone was drinking the Kool-Aid. He smiled at the fact that God beat out Mickey Mouse in the under-one percent category.

  Mr. Ray had helped the people of Provo through the end of the world. They would follow him off the edge of it.

  Lizzie said, “I’m surprised he’s only pulling 59%.”

  Mannie nodded. “Maybe DiSilvio deserves some support. He’s been there the whole time too.”

  “Nah.”

  “It’s not too late to get you an absentee ballot—if you want to have your say.”

  “What’s the point?” Lizzie asked.

  Mannie was never sure exactly what was going on inside her head, but he thought she wanted to vote.

  “There are no women.” Lizzie made a face. “When Saj grows up, he better respect women and their choices.”

  Lizzie stared at the ceiling, with Saj sleeping on her chest. The little holes in the ceiling tiles begged her to count them. At the psych ward, that had been one way she passed her time. She’d figured out a way to count so that she could save her place. Sometimes she’d count all of them on one tile and then be bored enough try to do the math in her head even though math was never her favorite subject.

  Saj’s adoption papers lay in her lap, as filled out as Lizzie could make them. Flo had found the forms and gotten them to her. She wasn’t sure it was worth the effort. She might not stay in Provo, and then all this work would be for nothing. But what if she did, and what if next time they didn’t let her in the hospital to see him?

  If she closed her eyes she could hear Saj’s slightly raspy breath. She leaned over and kissed his forehead. He didn’t feel hot at all any more. She had no idea if that was good or bad.

  Her father and Rachael occupied the next two beds. Betsy had taken a room by herself. She was fit to be tied about the incarceration, as she called it, but admitted that she could use the enforced rest to catch up on her reading.

  Zach was in the next isolation unit. He had refused to be in the same space or even acknowledge their presence. Lizzie thought about texting him, but decided to let it rest. Resting. Just like she should be. All the cloying safety she’d been trying to escape could not take away the fact that their immunity from the pandemic might not be invincible. If she left Provo, what hospital would she take Saj to if he got sick?

  When Lizzie woke the next morning, Rachael told her that Zach had already been released and that they could go, too. It was just a lower-case “f”—flu. They all tested negative to any new strain of the virus and were recovering and non-infectious now. Dr. Wright said it had been clear within a few hours that it wasn’t the same virus that had wiped out the world, but they still had to be confined to keep the rest of Provo from freaking out. Politics, not medicine.

  Lizzie barely cared. Her IV was out and freedom was imminent—at least from the hospital.

  Dr. Wright was already off facing the next medical emergency, a family with a nasty case of food poisoning.

  Saj was up and moving around slowly. Her father was tossing a cloth football to him. It hit him in the chest as his hands grasped for it, then he giggled, picked it up and threw it back.

  Flo brought them one last breakfast: scrambled eggs and toast. The bread was freshly baked; Rachael raved about it during the entire quarantine. Lizzie missed the wonderful white pseudo-bread of the pre-pandemic world. That and a good slice of American cheese all grilled up and gooey was like crack to her. She didn’t care about artisanal bread.

  After breakfast, Flo took their vitals a final time with an admonition to call if anyone else showed additional symptoms. She gave them all doctor’s orders for three days of rest, meaning Lizzie wouldn’t have to go back to the birth-monster classes until Monday.

  When they finally got home, Rachael left only after checking to make sure there was food for Saj. Lizzie resisted the urge to shoo her away, just Rachael being Rachael.

  “You want to stay for a bit, Dad? We could check the election results.”

  “Sure. I could make dinner. One of your abuela’s recipes.”

  “I doubt it.”

  His face twisted in disappointment and confusion.

  “I mean, there’s really nothing here, but frozen stuff. I don’t have like… ingredients.”

  “Well, I should teach you to cook before I teach you to drive a manual!”

  “Not sure that’s possible.”

  Her father shrugged. “At some point we’re going to run out of frozen food and/or electrical power.”

  “Talk to me again when that happens.”

  “I’ll go to my place and get some ingredients.”

  Lizzie snapped her fingers over her head like a flamenco dancer. “It would be great to have some buen comida.”

  He winced at her grammar.

  Lizzie gave him a whatever eye roll. She was too tired to worry about his feelings. Either the flu or the confinement had really taken it out of her. Probably both.

  Her father remained his good-spirited self despite Lizzie grumping all over him. He kissed her goodbye and shut the door behind him. The noise drew Saj’s attention.

  “Mampa?” Saj asked, his voice on edge. The ordeal in the hospital had left him a little insecure.

  “Mampa will be right back. He’s going to make us dinner.” Lizzie put on her happiest voice to make him feel safe and secure again. Behind her smile, she wondered if safe and secure were good enough.

  Chapter Eleven

  LIZZIE ENJOYED HER LAZY DAY alone. After spending the afternoon playing with Saj inside and out, he’d conked out in her lap to the classic kid’s movie, A Bug’s Life.

  A knock on the apartment door startled Lizzie. She slid o
ut of the recliner and managed to lay Saj in the easy chair.

  She peeked through the peep-hole. Duke. Shit. She ran her fingers through her hair, putting her finger to her lips as she opened the door. “Saj’s asleep.”

  “Oh.” He stared at her. “Uh. The other night. Your birthday party. You didn’t seem happy.”

  “Do I need to be?” She reclined against the door jam.

  “You don’t want to be happy?”

  “Happy has consequences, don’t you think? I mean, what’s going to happen next? It’s gotta be bad, right?” Lizzie kicked the door open the rest of the way, inviting him in with a tilt of her chin. “Right now, I’ll be happy if you don’t wake Saj up.”

  “Isn’t it a little early for him to be in bed?”

  “Doctor’s orders, and since when are you the expert on child-rearing?”

  “Used to babysit my sister’s kids. Probably changed more diapers than you.”

  “I practically raised my little brother single-handedly.”

  “‘Cause this is definitely a competition.” He popped his knuckles.

  “You wanna arm wrestle?” Lizzie playfully punched him in the gut.

  “Actually, I was going to offer to go get you some food. I just got back from collecting in Springville.”

  “Why does everyone assume I have no food in the house? My dad cooked last night, plenty of leftovers.” Her words sounded too harsh. She added in a gentler tone, “But I suppose more is always better. Where?”

  “There’s this burger joint downtown called Zeke’s.”

  “Oh, the one with the Sharpies? Where you can write on the walls?” Her pregnant chick drive for food shifted into high gear. “Remember, I’m eating for two.”

  “I’ll get enough for four then!” Duke gave her a knowing wink.

  As soon as Duke left, Lizzie shut the door quietly. She thought about picking Saj up and slipping back under him, but he’d probably wake up. Instead, she lay a blanket over him and sat on the floor next to the easy chair with her notebook.