“Oh, nothing,” answered Dane. “Just wondering if those little write ups you did a few months ago mean anything different to you now.”
“Depends, have you straightened up any?” asked Garrett, pointing at him. “Dane, you still have a serious issue with authority. Were it anywhere else, that would only make you a pain in the ass. Here, even before everything went to shit, it makes you dangerous to everyone around you. We don’t ask you to be a team player to make you feel less of a person. We do it because we don’t want to see you get someone, or even yourself, killed.”
“You care that much about me?” asked Dane, quirking a brow.
“You, personally? No, not that much,” answered Garrett, and then he shrugged. “But then again I hardly know you and the only thing you’ve shown is how much of a pain in my ass you can be… or how dangerous to your team you are.”
“What if I have ideas that could work, Garrett?”
“Then, for God’s sake, bring them up during a meeting—not in the field after a course of action has been set,” answered Garrett.
“What if…”
Garrett turned around and glared at Dane. “There is a time and place for things, Dane, your problem is you can’t seem to understand that concept,” answered Garrett. “Are we done here?”
Dane nodded, and then said, “Yeah, we’re done.”
* * * * *
Once the snow began to melt, the scene outside the walls of the City Hall was fully revealed. Unfortunately, the smell also matched. People had died outside those walls and now that the winter had released its stranglehold, things were beginning to thaw.
Some things, like bodies, were better left frozen.
Daniel knew that the death toll in the central part of Sudbury had been high but nothing prepared any of them for what met them in the spring.
The stench of thousands of rotting corpses hung over the downtown core like a cloud. Victoria, visibly distressed at the sight of the dead bodies, came out to the rooftop gardens and asked, “How many people died out there?”
“Too many,” he answered. “We were lucky.”
“No, it was your idea of turning the municipal offices into an indoor farm that saved us. Luck had nothing to do with it.”
“Yes, but…”
A shudder ran through the building and he stopped talking. “What in the name of hell was that?” he wondered aloud.
Two people ran up to the roof and stopped short when they reached Daniel. “Dan, we have a rather large and severe problem,” began Fitz.
“Which is?” he asked.
“The creek that runs under the building has leaked out of the cement channel that holds it, sir,” Fitz explained. “It’s managed to work its way under the foundation of the provincial building and weaken the supports. The garage underneath is sinking, in fact it’s already flooded and it’s pulling the rest of the square down with it.”
“What?” asked Victoria in shock. “The city engineers assured City Council that the Junction Creek tunnel would last at least twenty years before we needed to do any further reconditioning. The city paid billions to a contractor to make sure of it.”
“The winter was particularly harsh, maybe,” answered Daniel, desperately wishing his son in law, a civil engineer, although not for the city, was there to advise them. “Could have caused a crack… a frost heave…”
“How fast are we sinking?” asked Lescelle.
Fitz blew out a breath. Fitz’s father and Daniel were friends and he knew her well enough to know when Fitz said something was bad typically it was. She was one of those people who could fix anything with duct tape and shims, although she preferred to fix things properly, so for her to tell them it was serious meant that things were probably far worse. “Well, once the sinkhole opened up we started sinking. But it took days for it to worm under enough to sink the provincial building and it’s larger than either of the other two. It’ll sink faster.”
Daniel nodded. “Still, to be safe, seal off the basement levels and the garage. They were our weakest points anyway and if they are about to be buried, it might be for the best.”
“You do realize the swampy bed beneath us could potentially swallow everything up to the second floor of each building, right?” asked Victoria. “This roof we’re standing on could soon be on the same level as the square below.”
Daniel sighed again. “If it looks like that’s going to happen, we move out of here. Head over the bridge to Lake Ramsey and away from the gangs. Leave the core to the nuts determined to take it.”
“You want us to abandon City Hall?” asked Victoria.
Daniel turned to face them again. “What would you have me do? If this place is about to lose whatever advantage it had it would be better if we moved.”
“And go where?” asked Lescelle.
Daniel mulled the situation over for a moment and said, “Across the lake.”
Victoria nodded. “All right, but only if this place turns out to be unsafe.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“How many more feet have we lost?” asked Daniel as he inched carefully over to the young woman.
At first he had thought Fitz was crazy for volunteering to venture in the almost entirely flooded garage under City Hall.
It was getting darker and deeper every passing day. It was impossible to get under the provincial building now. The hallway connecting the two had already ruptured and spilled rubble into the companionway while the tallest of the three towers sank deeper into the murk below.
While the other two towers had not really sunk yet, both noticeably had dropped by at least six inches. The provincial tower, being heaviest and the first undermined, had sunk almost by a storey. The parking lot was now completely submerged and collapsed and the first floor was now where the parking used to be.
Instead of risking the safety of any of the survivors, Victoria had ordered everyone out of the provincial building and into City Hall itself—or into the police tower.
“At this rate, the third floor is going to be where the main floor’s lobby used to be and you’ll need scuba gear to find the second,” Fitz answered frankly, shaking her head. “Honestly, if it goes, it could take the others out with it.”
“What do you mean by ‘goes’?” asked Daniel evenly.
“I mean completely collapse—it’s barely hanging on by a thread as it is,” answered another and Fitz glanced over at him, then back at Dan. “And if the building comes down the whole square will be like a house of cards… if you want my honest opinion, we should pack up and move before that happens.”
“What about other buildings?”
“Well, the creek only runs under City Hall and then meanders under the arena if I’m not mistaken. Or it runs under Brady, I’m not entirely sure, but wherever it goes I’d avoid it or we’ll be right back where we started.” There was a long pause as they listened to the structure groan from somewhere in the dark pit. “And the sooner the better.”
Daniel nodded his agreement and clapped the two on the shoulder. “All right… let’s get the hell out of here before it comes down on our heads and tell our mayor the bad news.”
They had just climbed up out of the hole when a bottle—thrown from over the barricade—came crashing into the square. Daniel narrowly avoided it, and thankfully it completely missed Fitz as well.
A whoop sounded from outside and the three ran for cover. Just as they managed to get inside, more of the Molotov’s came over the barricade, lighting the entire square in flame.
Victoria leaned over the topmost edge—ironically where her office was—and yelled down, “They’ve got ladders, Dan, and they’re coming over the wall!”
Daniel was horrified as he looked at where she was pointing.
Their one line of defense was just breached and the only thing stopping them now was a thick pane of glass. He swore vehemently and yelled, “Everyone to arms! We’re going to need every arm we can get!”
“Are they at the back?” as
ked another person.
“I don’t see them,” answered Victoria after she ran to check. “It seems clear—I think they’re only from that side.”
The young woman looked at Daniel. “We could make a run for the bridge… just leave this sinking ship to them.”
Daniel hesitated a moment and then turned around. “Henri, take your people and the mayor and get them over the bridge. We’ll keep them busy here and then join you later. Head for the canoe club!”
Victoria leaned over the wall. “No, Daniel… you can’t do this…”
He turned away and shouldered the police issue shotgun as others came up by him, a bit more prepared as they were dressed in full riot issue. Twenty against at least fifty. He had seen better odds and while this was no movie he hoped that they could hold them off so they could retreat, too.
There was no avoiding the confrontation now.
He flattened himself against the security desk in the mezzanine, running his finger along the greying grout of the hexagon shaped tiles. He could still hear Victoria screaming at Henri to let her go.
True to his promise, Lescelle made sure she left.
Movement to his side made him jump out of his skin, but when the person slid in to sit beside him, he had a sinking feeling he knew exactly who it was. “I had better be wrong, Fitz, and you had better be a hallucination,” he hissed as he turned to face her, ignoring her smirk. “Your father is going to kill me.”
“He can kick both of our asses later, Dan,” she answered, as she held out her hand. “I told you before, you can’t expect me to run and hide when that’s not in my training. Now, give me a gun so I can help defend this place too or it won’t be my Dad you have to worry about kicking your ass.”
Daniel glared at her. “I’m not afraid of you,” he answered, and then he pointed to the door leading to Brady and Paris street. “Get out of here.”
“I wasn’t talking about me either,” she answered, hand still held out. “I was talking about my mother.”
That, on the other hand, was a viable threat. He sighed heavily, and pulled out the other handgun he kept on him and a spare clip. “That’s all I have. Use sparingly.”
“Thank you,” she said as she checked the weapon before loading it. “Nice of us to have that mutual understanding.”
* * * * *
Marissa stared out the window as the sun set. Derek sat beside her on the bed as they both looked out the window and to the river beyond.
“I told her I’d only do it if I had your blessing, and if you came with me,” said Derek.
“What if I said you had my blessing, but I would rather I didn’t go with you?” she asked.
Derek held his breath in shock.
She punched his arm and said, “I didn’t mean we’d not be married, you old fool, I meant that sometimes I’d rather help Shiloh in the barn and not always be out there. I’m not as much a camper as you. I know you’ll always come back—you always did when you were on the road as a salesman. The only thing that makes this different is how you’re getting around.”
“It’s more dangerous.”
“And the chances of having a deadly car crash were less?” She asked plainly and he had to admit her point. “Or the chances of being taken as a trespasser and shot?”
“All right, you’ve made your point,” he conceded. “No way I can convince you otherwise?”
“You don’t want to go out there?”
“Didn’t say that, Reese, I meant I’d rather have you out there with me,” he answered.
Marissa thought for a moment and smiled. “Maybe when the weather warms up more…”
“…and the bugs come out…” he pointed out and laughed as she shuddered at the thought.
“You, go, enjoy yourself. Do what you’ve always done, Derek,” she said as she turned the bed back. “Bring back what you’ve always brought back.”
“And what’s that?” he asked.
“Yourself.”
* * * * *
“Goddammit,” muttered Garrett in frustration as the radio fizzled out again.
At this rate, it was not very likely that he would ever get it running. He was not accustomed to failure and the radio was just not cooperating with any of his efforts to get it working. His assistant, when he got there, noticed him glaring at the wisp of smoke that rose from the radio again.
“Not having any luck?” he asked.
“Nope,” Garrett answered as he leaned forward to poke at the radio. “I get the feeling this thing is beyond help. And no one has managed to find a CB radio in any of the trucks?”
“No CB’s, no FRS’, not a thing,” he answered, shaking his head. “It’s strange because it’s clear they did have them at one point… and I think recently… you don’t think…”
Garrett did think the missing radios were related to the near coup in winter. Someone still felt that Garrett was hogging power and leadership.
The strange part was, if asked Garrett would frankly rather not be leading the camp at all. While he was a good foreman he had still never liked being in charge of a camp itself. That kind of thing was better suited to someone with not only the temperament for it but also the inclination and skills for it.
Someone like his late wife—or, even, his mother.
The latter had once run entire camps while his father had overseen the work the camp was there to do. Between the two of them this camp would have been running in order—communications be damned. Their era had been exactly like this.
Garrett could admit he was out of his element. While he had indeed inherited his father’s skills and ability he had been trained in an environment that relied on technology. Being without it crippled him.
“Yeah, I really do think,” answered Garrett. “Keep an eye out. I’d like to live through this. Frankly, if someone feels they could do better, we could make a vote out of it if it’s really that much of a big deal.”
“You’d allow that?” asked the other, surprised.
He shrugged his indifference. “I’ll lead if people want me to. Not the other way around. If someone else would rather take over, so be it. But don’t expect me to be quiet if I happen to not agree…”
“You… quiet?”
He glared up at the man, but there was no heat to it.
“What are you going to do about Dane?”
Garrett shrugged. “I can’t turn him out. Beyond that, it’s between me and him, clear?” pointed out Garrett, and the other man nodded.
Once he was gone, Garrett sighed.
Dane was an insubordinate pain in the ass, but he was also smart. He does have good ideas, thought Garrett as he bent back down to the radio, tweaking something else. The problem is how he expresses himself.
Dane, he was sure, thought that just because he had a few good ideas that everyone should listen to him. But he just did not have the real experience yet.
He’s young, thought Garrett. And he’s arrogant. The problem is that he has some basis for self-confidence, but there’s a fine line between being confident in your abilities and being a loud-mouthed arrogant ass about it.
* * * * *
The next morning Derek sat on the stone steps, with a pad underneath his seat, while drinking the ‘tea’ which now replaced coffee in the morning. He was not alone, however, like Terrence, who had built a list of people that were to form their militia, Derek had decided to make a list for himself of people who were like him.
Finding these people had been easier than he thought.
A sales person was easy to spot—they were always sizing up a person to get inside their head and know what would serve as their hot button. A hot button was the flashy, right thing to say or do that could turn an objection around and into a sale.
In his opinion, these were the kind of people Sheridan needed to serve as ambassadors and scouts. Correctly reading people in this new world could mean the difference between life and death. But now, instead of training to read people and situations to make a s
ale, they all needed to learn a different set of survival skills for their main purpose of scouts.
He knew only one thing for sure.
The first thing he was going to when they got to whatever was left of Sudbury was find some real coffee.
“All right, I think you all know why we’re here,” he said. “We were all, at one point, sales people and sales consultants—however you want to slice it we were all in sales. We were hunters of a different species, and now we’re going to be hunters in a very real sense.”
“As in literally,” piped up one of the younger ones.
The group chortled at the joke.
Derek nodded sombrely, “He’s got a real point. This time we’re not hunting for the next big deal—the next big sale. We’ve got something far more immediate—life and death—in our hands and we’re the only ones that can get it done. Our skills and our talents are needed here—nothing else. What I’m going to teach you to do beside that is all you need to survive outside that wall. And then, we are going outside that wall and up into the mountains. We are going to test what we’ve learnt from each other by taking that theory and putting it to the test. Someplace where getting down for the amenities in this house is a pain in the butt. But we’re also not so far that if we do run into trouble the cavalry can’t get to us.”
“Are you kidding me?” asked another one. “You’re making us scouts?”
“You have anything better to do?” asked Derek. “What were we before but scouts of a sort? Our quarry was intelligent and what they had equally valuable. You had to use your smarts and your instincts to get, hopefully honestly, their money to buy what you had to sell and you had to prove what you had was of use to them. Sales was as much a game of smarts as wilderness scouting—and we were on the road as much as we will be now. We had to make do with seedy hotels for budget reasons, and an ability to read a map. Just use those same skills for this and you’ll do better than fine. The new product knowledge now, though, is survival outdoors and how to ride. How to use a bow and a gun—but likely a bow because arrows are easier to replace.”
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