Lethal Seasons (A Changed World Book 1)

by Alice Sabo

  Nick flinched at the sound of a howl, human and deeply discontent. He was in the stock room trying to decide if he should pack food for lunch or bet on hitting the next station. The morning had been proceeding very orderly. As people woke, they came up from the cubbies, and collected train food for breakfast. They settled in small groups, some chatting quietly.

  “What do you want from us!” The voice sounded young and female.

  Nick followed the sound out to the waiting area. It was one of the teenagers who had slept with her family in the big cubby. She was standing in the middle of the room sobbing. Her long brown hair was knotted and snarled. Her clothes were awry from sleeping in them.

  He approached her slowly. She raised her eyes to him, her face twisted in hysteria. “Who are you? What is happening!”

  Nick glanced at her nametag, thankful that it had survived an obviously rough night. “Doreen?” He spoke very gently.

  Her gaze locked on to his face, as her eyes widened in terror.

  “It’s okay. You’re safe here. I’m Nick. Do you remember me?”

  “What are they going to do to us? How did we get here? What did they do to Sara?” Her words ran together, slurred by drugs and fear.

  “They are gone.” He stayed still, not moving any closer to her. “We have left the lab. We are going to a safe place.”

  Her eyes clouded with confusion. “Lab?” She looked around, only now seeming to comprehend her surroundings. “This is a train station.”

  “Yes. We spent the night here.”

  “Doreen!” Mike shuffled into the waiting room, the rest of the family trailing after him.

  Nick took a few steps back as Doreen stumbled to her father’s arms crying and stammering her confusion. He saw Kyle and Ruth watching from a bench where they were eating breakfast. He went over to check in with them.

  “How many times is that going to happen?” Nick asked.

  Ruth gave him a tight nod. “You handled that very well.”

  Nick felt muscles tighten across his back at the way she sidestepped his question. “Do we need to have a meeting before we put everyone back in the vans? I don’t want any breakdowns like that while we’re in transit.”

  Wisp jogged across the room toward them, a look of urgency about him.

  “Nick.” Wisp waited until he was close enough to speak in a low voice. “There are three dead in the cubbies.”

  “Damn. Flu?”

  Wisp glanced at Ruth for a bare second before looking back at Nick. “I can’t tell. There’s no blood. No obvious wounds or violence. The doors were locked from the inside. Might be a reaction from the drug withdrawal?”

  Ruth stood up, but spoke with her eyes on the floor. “It shouldn’t kill them.”

  “Let’s take a look.” Nick ushered them all downstairs to the cubbies. Wisp had jimmied the doors open. The three cubbies were from different areas of the shelter, so it wasn’t location. The first one they checked was Cyril’s.

  “He was very frail,” Nick said.

  “I agree,” Ruth said. She pointed to his face, sunken and pallid. “Indications of cardiovascular complications.” She studied his hands for a moment. “I would say not flu. Natural causes, though. Heart attack or stroke.”

  “Thank you,” Nick said.

  He let Ruth enter the next cubby, first. She did a quicker examination. “This one is most likely flu.”

  The third looked like flu also. Nick stood in the hallway staring at the doors as Kyle, Ruth and Wisp waited by the stairs. “Should we leave the bodies?”

  Kyle tipped his head in thought. “I believe the stations are prepared to handle deaths like this. It must happen every flu season.”

  “No.” Wisp’s voice was low but firm. “It’s a trail.”

  Nick caught his eye. Wisp gave him a microscopic shrug. “He’s right,” Nick said.

  “What kind of trail?” Ruth asked nervously.

  “To us,” Nick said. He walked past her up the stairs. “I’ll find a shovel.”

  * * *

  Kyle, Jonas and Lester, the janitor, helped Nick dig graves to bury the three bodies. They got on the road a lot later than Nick wanted. He headed the convoy north toward High Meadow. They spent the day driving in and out of showers. A couple of times, they had to stop until a cloudburst moved on past them. The dirt roads were mud pits. The paved roads were pocked and shattered. By lunch time, they were battered from the rough ride.

  “Any idea where we are?” Nick asked Wisp under his breath. They sat on worn benches at a derelict rest stop on the remains of an old highway. He had handed out train food, relieved that he’d chosen to pack it, in case.

  Wisp glanced at the sun, then across the road to the woods. “Closer than we were.”

  “I’d hoped to be there by tomorrow.”

  “We might still make it.”

  Nick slumped in his seat. The tension was knotting up his shoulders. His gut was so tight he could barely eat.

  “We are safe for now,” Wisp said.

  “For now,” Nick repeated sourly. He forced down the rest of his Crunch. He couldn’t face the Stew-goo today. He walked around the vehicles checking the tires. Then he checked all the chargers. They’d parked in the sun, to top off the batteries.

  “Nick?”

  He turned to find one of the ex-prisoners approaching him. His nametag said Tonka. He was a middle-aged man who looked like he’d be burly once he put a little more weight on. Right now he was starvation thin with the thick knobs of bone showing at wrist and knuckle. “Everything okay?”

  “Any seconds?” he asked with a shy smile.

  Nick chuckled. “I think there’s a couple left.” He led Tonka over to the van with the food.

  “I, um, wanted to, you know, thank you.”

  “No problem,” Nick said automatically.

  “No, I mean it.” Tonka grabbed Nick’s arm. “I know what was going on. I know that if you guys hadn’t found us, we would have all starved to death in that place.”

  “Why were you there?” Nick asked as he handed him another packet of Stew-goo.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong.” He avoided Nick’s eyes as he eagerly took the food. “Thanks.” His hands shook as he stood there, holding the food, not looking at Nick. “Why do you want to know.”

  “Rutledge’s men killed a girl. I’m trying to figure out why.”

  Tonka’s mouth tightened for a minute before he nodded. “He was ruthless. A bastard. An evil bastard.”

  Nick waited, wondering if the drugs would keep Tonka just babbling without any clear point. “What do you remember?”

  “Not a lot. I know I hate him.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “Good.” Tonka’s gaze flickered from the ground to Nick. “Okay to go eat?”

  Nick sent him on his way with a mental note to check back in with him in a day or two. He started packing up when Kyle approached him.

  “You want seconds, too?” Nick asked.

  Kyle looked uneasy. “If there is extra food, I would like some.”

  His passive response reminded Nick that Kyle lived as property. Just as Wisp preferred to be unseen and disregarded, Kyle had no expectations of equal treatment. Nick handed him an extra packet each of Crunch and Stew-goo.

  “Thank you. But I came to tell you that I was thinking about your question concerning the Cyril Project. I believe there were a number of researchers that worked on that project who then went on to work on the first team that researched the virus.”

  “And why would that get them locked up in Rutledge’s basement?”

  Kyle’s unease increased, as did his careful phrasing. “In the early days of research there were many different approaches put forward. Some were more, um, aggressive than others.”

  “Let me guess, Rutledge was aggressive.”

  “He was very vocal concerning his thoughts on the proper direction of the the research. I wasn’t present, but I heard from others that he was very angry not be
put in charge of the federally funded lab.”

  “And the old man was?”

  “No. It was a woman, if I remember correctly. At least at the beginning. I think they lost a few directors in the first year.”

  “So the old guy could have been involved in that and Rutledge locked him up out of spite?”

  “Dr. Rutledge had a very...um, volatile personality.” Kyle looked away, clutching his packet of food.

  “Go eat,” Nick said, waiving him away. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “It’s simply conjecture, without any further information...”

  “All the same, thanks.”

  * * *

  They got back on the road and continued heading in a general north-westerly direction. Nick was getting more tense. Without the mapping site, he had no way of knowing where he was. Wisp seemed to know from the lay of the land, or the angle of the sun or some other arcane method. Nick wasn’t sure if he should trust Wisp that blindly, when he had no way to corroborate the biobot’s assertions.

  About an hour after lunch, the road they were following dead-ended into a massive chasm with white water at the bottom. Nick called a halt. They all got out to look at the water.

  “That looks like it’s new,” Jonas said.

  “I don’t know this river,” Nick grumbled. He was worried about how much backtracking they were going to have to do. Somewhere in the past hour, he’d gotten the feeling they were being followed. He looked around to find Wisp.

  “He’s up a tree,” Jonas said with amusement.

  Wisp came back down with a plan. To Nick’s relief he’d found an alternate route that took them past the new river and back to a highway that was in reasonable shape. They traveled due east for another hour until they saw the remains of an old sign that told them they’d driven twenty-six miles past their turn off. Instead of turning around, Wisp found a new road with a more north-westerly route.

  As the sun sank behind the trees, Nick’s stress kicked into a higher gear. Since he didn’t know where he was, it stood to reason no one else knew where they were. So maybe they weren’t being followed, or tracked, or watched. His nerves were so raw that everything seemed a problem. They might have to sleep in the vans. He wasn’t sure if they had enough supplies to cobble together some kind of dinner. Should they build a fire? Would it attract attention? He’d gotten himself pretty worked up by the time they hit the barrier.

  “Shit!” In the dim light of the late afternoon, the barrier looked imposing. It reminded Nick of the cannibals. He didn’t want to have to try to protect three vehicles in a situation like that. He had no idea how Kyle or Jonas would react. Did any of them even know how to use a firearm? Which made him realize that he should have distributed weapons before they left. He only had the handgun he’d tucked into the driver’s side pocket. He started to reach for it when Wisp put a hand out to stop him.

  “There is no one here,” Wisp said.

  Nick almost grabbed for him as Wisp jumped out of the car. He followed a second later after taking a big breath. His hands were shaking. He wasn’t sure if that was his nerves, lack of food or something else. He loosened his collar which was damp with sweat despite the air conditioning in the van, and wondered if he was running a fever.

  Wisp was already hauling timber out of the road when Nick got to him. Now that he was up close, Nick could tell it was just flotsam. Thin streams of sand across the road showed where a flood had traveled, pushing and pulling branches and mud with it. In a minute Jonas, Lester and Tonka joined them. Using his muscles, stretching, lifting and dragging the debris helped loosen some of the tension. By the time the road was clear, Nick was feeling much better.

  Unfortunately, the flood had done serious damage to the roadbed for over a mile. They limped through the remains of the pavement, around more piles of debris and over mounds of mud. Nick was thinking about where they should stop for the night when Wisp made a pleased sound.

  “There it is.”

  Wisp pointed to a side road, clear and in excellent condition. Nick turned up it hopeful that they were getting closer to a train station. If they could find one in the next hour or so, they’d be set for the night. But an hour later, they were deep into the woods with very little sightline ahead and the last vestiges of light failing. Nick’s nerves kicked up again. Why was this road in good shape? Who used it? Wisp seemed to know it, did he know where they were going? He was about to start barking questions when a light appeared up the road.

  It was a handmade sign with a solar powered light on it. “Creamery 3 miles.”

  “That’s a good place, too.” Wisp said.

  Nick nodded.

  “We can stay there tonight.”

  “Okay.”

  Wisp frowned at him. “You don’t believe me.”

  “Things change. We’ll see when we get there.”

  Wisp gave him a half nod, half shrug. Nick forced his fingers to loosen on the steering wheel. They approached the turnoff. Nick slowed and turned onto a well maintained gravel road. He slowed again as it wandered around a big oak and over a short bridge. In the gloaming, he could see open land to either side. Split rail fences lined the road. Ahead there was a stockade wall that stood close to ten feet tall with spotlights mounted to shine on the road. The wood was raw, probably just taken from the fields on either side. The gate was closed. Five men with shotguns stood facing them.

  Nick pulled the car to the side of the driveway and the other two vans followed.

  “They fear the vehicles,” Wisp said.

  Nick radioed to the other cars for everyone to get out. He got out with his hands in the air. “I’m unarmed,” he shouted. “I’m Nick from High Meadow. We’re just looking for a safe place for the night. Maybe barter for some dinner?”

  A soft murmur called his attention to a group of men at the top of the stockade wall. More guns. There was a bit of a discussion before someone answered. “What’s High Meadow doing with vans like that?”

  Nick looked back at the slick black vehicles. “Well, that’s kind of a long story. But we’re not looking for any trouble. We’re willing to put in some work for food if you’ve got it to spare.”

  There was a little more discussion. “What kind of work?”

  Nick raised his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “A couple of us can do anything, dig ditches, chop wood. I’ve got some scientists...” Nick paused, not sure what they could possibly offer a dairy.

  “What kind?” The voice sounded very eager. “You got any chemists?”

  “I am,” Jonas raised his hand and stepped forward.

  A smaller door in the gate opened and a broad shouldered man stepped through. Nick realized the men must be related. All of them had thick builds, cornflower blue eyes and shaggy blond hair. The man hesitated by the door, giving them all a thorough look. His eyes lingered on Wisp, then wandered to Mike’s family and on to Jonas. He gave determined nod. “I’m Bert. Welcome to the Creamery. Sorry about this, but we’ve had a bit of a rough time lately.”

  Nick waited for Bert to approach, then met him halfway to shake hands. “I understand. Had some rough times myself.” He gestured back at the vans. “They’re sort of borrowed. I didn’t think about what we might look like driving up in them. Are you the folks that put out the flyer about cheese?”

  Bert grimaced. “Yeah. Turns out it’s not such a good idea to advertise.” He glanced back at the stockade.

  Nick looked a little closer at the men with guns. None of them held the weapons with confidence. One man, a youngster really, had both hands on the stock, neither near the trigger and Nick was going to bet that the gun was unloaded. These folks had recently been forced to mount defense. “I’m sorry to hear that. Your flyer really cheered me up. I was looking forward to working out some trade with you.”

  Bert brightened. “What have you got in mind?”

  “I do the trading for High Meadow. We’ve got some crops in the ground that we might be able to trade. What sorts of th
ings are you looking for?”

  Bert got a thoughtful look on his face. “Sounds like we should have a talk. You’re welcome to come spend the night. But I’m sorry to say we don’t have much more than cheese to share right now.”

  Nick laughed. “I’ve got the perfect thing!” He sprinted back to the second van to break out the box of bread, and looked up to see men with guns, a lot closer. He grabbed a loaf and held it out. “Bread!”

  Their looks changed from animosity to pleasant curiosity.

  Bert grinned. “That’d be mighty welcome.” He waved to the men atop the wall and the large gate wobbled open.

  Nick noted that the wall wasn’t all that well constructed. Definitely a rush job. He thought about asking Martin to come down and sort this place out. Once inside, it was even more obvious that they were scrambling to shore up defenses. The wall was only half finished and petered out a few yards in. They were living in what was probably an old hunting lodge. It looked ancient, constructed entirely out of logs, but carefully tucked into a shallow hillside. Thick beams supported a deep porch where women and children watched their approach.

  There were a few introductions as they filed into a high ceilinged lobby where trestle tables were set up. Nick had thrown a few things into a box to share: two loaves of bread, a box of coffee, a small sack of sugar and a larger one of flour. He handed the box to an older woman who thanked him without even looking at the contents. She had only gone a few feet when she realized the bounty he’d gifted them with. She gasped, soon surrounded by two other older women. Nick smiled. It felt good to share.

  Dinner was cheese and tomato sandwiches with a thin vegetable soup that had probably been watered down to stretch. Nick smiled at everyone as he sorted them out. The spouses that had married in were obvious in contrast to the clan’s strong genes. There were a couple of dark-haired women, a redheaded man whose genes held strong producing three children with strawberry blonde hair, and a wife with white-blonde hair like wet silk. She looked willowy and frail next to the solid, curly-blond women of the house.

  Talk at the table stuck to generic topics of weather and wildfires. What condition the roads were in. Where was the closest train station. Mostly folks just ate. There was dried apples and coffee for desert. The Creamery families seemed cautiously pleased.