Reaper's Run - Plague Wars Series Book 1

by David VanDyke

  ***

  “I can’t believe this is working.” Python shook his head. “Getting everyone in our block to chip in food…don’t make no sense.”

  “Fear isn’t the only human motivator,” Jill replied. “Altruism, kindness, or just enlightened self interest work too, otherwise who would give to charity?”

  “Tax breaks,” Python ventured.

  “That helps,” she admitted, “and getting your name on a plaque, things like that. But some people just give because they want to help people. Or they believe in karma, or God, or something like that. What goes around, comes around.”

  “And payback’s a bitch. Okay.” He looked at the pillowcases of food they’d collected from the nearly two hundred people in their building. It had become a popular block even before they organized better security, after Jill and Python had dealt with a couple of attempts to extort their fellow prisoners.

  The place even had a waiting list, because Jill had organized a score of the men and a couple of the women into a neighborhood watch. Half the collected food went to them, adding roughly twenty percent to her unofficial security officers’ diets. It was only fair, since they did work the hardest.

  The other half of the food filled the two pillowcases they carried. Now that one part of her plan had worked out, Jill was ready for the next. “Let’s go.”

  Python didn’t ask where.

  They approached the escape barracks as night fell, but before the lights came on. It was the best time to move around unseen. A challenge came from the side door they’d chosen: “Whatta yous want?”

  “Boston or Philly?” Jill asked.

  “Neithuh. Woostuh. I’m still askin’, whatta yous want?”

  “Got something for you.” They set the pillowcases down on the steps of the entranceway, and turned to walk away.

  “Hey, what’s this about?”

  “Ask your boss,” Jill replied over her shoulder. They rounded the nearest building just as the lights began to glow along the fence line, throwing harsh shadows inward.

  The next night they returned to the same building, different door, a few minutes earlier. This time they dumped the pillowcases, leaving the lookout to scramble as loose fruit, rolls and cookies spilled over the steps.

  The third night they stopped by the side door of the nearest barracks and waved the lookout over. He ignored their gestures, but after a few minutes, a dark-skinned woman walked out past the watcher and over to them.

  She looked young, as all Plague carriers did, except for her eyes, which seemed ancient. And she didn’t smile. “What’s this about?” she asked.

  Jill gestured at the food. “We need our pillowcases back. We can’t give away two every time we bring you supplies.”

  “And why the hell are you giving us supplies?”

  “For your tunnel rats.”

  The woman’s jaw worked, and she looked as if she would explode. Then she mastered herself with an effort, putting on a bland smile, and sat down on the steps next to them. Blazing lights came on just then, aimed inward on poles around the outside of the fence, and from dim twilight the three were plunged into deep shadow, shielded by the buildings.

  “So who are you?” the woman asked.

  “I’m Reaper. This is Python,” Jill replied.

  “Convicts.” Disdain tinged her voice.

  Jill only laughed. “Convicts might be your salvation.”

  “Convicts might be informers. We can’t trust anyone that isn’t an Eden.”

  Jill snorted. “Oh, it’s a noun now? Edens, Sickos, Unies…labels. Doesn’t mean you can trust all Edens either. You think Edens are immune to fear or bribery, or threats to their kids? I bet the goons already know about your tunnel. We figured it out our first week here.”

  “So why are you helping?”

  Jill rolled up her sleeve, showing her the tattoo that perfected Eden eyes could see in the dimness. “Because I’m not a convict. I’m a Marine. It’s my duty to defend my country against all enemies, foreign or domestic. These enemies seem pretty domestic to me. And it’s my duty to escape.”

  “What about him?” The woman glanced at Python.

  “He’s with me. That’s all you need to know.”

  The woman nodded slowly. “Okay. You can call me Cee. We’ll take your food, and thank you for it. What do you want in return?”

  Jill smiled. “Two assault rifles and ammo would be nice.”

  Cee snorted. “Fat chance.”

  “Okay, then, how about information? We haven’t heard much news in a while. If anyone gets out, where is there to go?”

  “Mexico and Canada…one of the Caribbean islands. Any other country, really, except China and Russia. Most places have no policy against Edens, so at least we wouldn’t be rounded up.” A light breeze began, bringing them the smell of earth and farm.

  Jill nodded, musing. “And after you get some people out and running?”

  “We have a few plans.”

  “I don’t want details, Cee. I just want to know you have some kind of objective other than merely crossing the wire. We’re in the middle of a whole lot of nothing, and the little towns nearby won’t be hard to search, unless the entire population is noncompliant.”

  Cee licked her lips. “I shouldn’t even be discussing this with you. I only just met you.”

  “Whatever. But from being on the other side of this situation, I’ll tell you that the best time to stage your escape is when something changes – the bigger the better. Anything that disrupts the routine will provide an opportunity.”

  “Understood.”

  Jill turned to look the woman in the face. “And one other thing, since you asked. The thing I really want is a tipoff when you go. Twelve hours, even six.”

  “You don’t want to go with us?” Cee seemed surprised.

  “Oh, hell no.”

  Cee waited for Jill to go on but she did not continue, so the dark woman shrugged and stood up. “All right. I’ll send a runner by your building on the day before.”

  “Fair enough.” Jill held out her hand to shake, then Python did the same, surprising the other woman.

  “Good luck,” he said, and Cee gave him a quizzical look before she walked back to her barracks and her tunnel. “Didn’t know quite what to make of me,” Python said when she had gone.

  “That’s how I want it. Keep ‘em guessing.” Jill slapped him on his shoulder, grown rock-hard with surplus food and the exercise regimen she demanded. “Let’s go.”

  As they walked back to their block, Python asked, “I thought you said before you wanted to go to L.A. Now you’re asking about Mexico and stuff.”

  “I did a lot of thinking about that. I’m not just listed as AWOL anymore. I’m in their records as infected. My biometrics, my fingerprints, probably my DNA…it’s too dangerous. Whatever happened to my family, I can’t help the dead, and I’d be just causing trouble for any survivors. You too, for that matter. The best thing I – we – can do now is just get away to somewhere that doesn’t lock up people like us. Then maybe we can think about fighting back.”

  “I’m all right with that,” Python replied.

  “How come you never talk about your family?” she asked him as they walked.

  “I treated them like shit. They don’t want to see me. I don’t blame them.” He sounded regretful.

  “Well, it’s never too late. My old man wasn’t happy with me running with a gang. If I hadn’t joined up, he’d probably have thrown me out of the house anyway.”

  “He must have been happy when you enlisted.”

  Jill nodded. “Yeah, he was proud of me, but I was so angry at him that I didn’t talk to him for years. And now…now maybe it’s too late.”

  “You just told me it’s never too late.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?”

  The security men at their block door nodded to the pair as they entered their well-run barracks. People immediately started to approach; Jill had become a de fac
to judge and jury when anything was in dispute. She sighed, and said, “Give me five minutes, folks.”