“Help?” Gene said.
“Yes, help.”
“Then here is the second part of this whole thing. Wallace, I need you to travel with me.”
The idea was absurd. Sensibility was wholly lost on it. It was miles beyond ridiculous to think I could accompany the man hundreds of miles south. We wouldn’t even be able to see each other without killing each other. There was no way this would happen.
“I will do it,” I said. I don’t know why I said it, what made me say it, or what unearthly being crawled up my ass to make me agree to such a futile endeavor almost certain to end in even more tragedy.
Gene began crying very heavily. “I truly did pick a good friend in you, Wallace Auker. You’re unconditional and I need that badly.”
I wanted to accept his rewarding praises while turning down the request to go with him to Oklahoma. It was the wise thing to do. So I acted stupid instead.
“Anything you need, Gene, I’m there. We will go in the coming months, after the weather cools some. It will give us time to create a plan and think of all obstacles.”
It was apparent Gene wanted the journey to be sooner. He was overly kind, though. He accepted the timeframe and the plan was on. The only thing left for me to do was find where I’d left my brain.
~~~~
Chapter 7
Sooner than Later
Another incredibly violent thunderstorm barreled through the development a few days later. The radar showed definite signs of tornadoes in the area. I believe later reports told of people seeing big funnels around. And indeed, when I went outside following the storm, trees had fallen all over my cabin’s property. It was a quick cleanup.
Moreover, it was possibly a sign of things changing quickly. I think the storms were ramping up the atmosphere for something big, and something immediate. Like Haydon and his legs, I could feel the air mutating before me.
Gene and I discussed at great length and detail our coming trip. It was to be tricky, to say the least. The odds were far from on our side. Furthermore, I still didn’t want to go.
“Batteries,” I said. “We need to order extra batteries for our packs.”
“I have three already,” Gene said. “Each one can last a week if we talk and hardly use the screens.”
“I only have two, Gene. I need more. The CA can get them shipped here by next week.”
“Damn it, Wallace. Why didn’t you order them once you decided to go with me?”
“There’s a lot to think of. Slipped my mind.” Hearing Gene get agitated at my lack of foresight was somewhat unnerving, adding to my doubt about everything. “Food. We’ll need to ration it.”
“I’ve thought of that. Our bags can carry probably thirty meat cans each, and one can might last a day.”
Meat cans. Disgusting. For me, at least. Some people loved the slimy sausage-esque meat bi-products because they had a bit of a twinge to them. I, on the other hand, found them offensive to the tongue.
“You can have all the meat cans you want, Gene. I can live on crackers and veggie gel.”
“As long as we’re prepared,” Gene said. “Water. Camelbacks?”
“Camelbacks, yes. And I’m sure we can find more water along the way without problem.”
“Medicine too, Wallace. We should have enough for first aid.”
“Of course. Now, we need to discuss strategy.”
“What strategy? We leave here, head south, watch out for people, and find my sister.”
“Not what I meant. Gene, we’ll need to always maintain a distance. I’d like to stay in view of you, but we can’t get close. That’s going to prove to be very difficult and you know it.”
“Constant contact,” Gene said. “We’ll lose sight of each other a lot, but we’ll describe landmarks to know we’re still going in the right direction. Sun rises in the east, sets in the west. Not much movement at night.”
“What happens when we come into contact with other people?” I asked.
“What happens? We avoid it if we can, Wallace. Our necklaces should do the trick.”
“Then again, our proximity to each other may throw that off. I may feel you approach but it’s actually another person out there in the land.”
“Listen, Wallace. You’re overthinking it. We will not walk long in the dark. In the daylight we should be able to see other people. We stick to roads when we can, fields other times. Fortunately, I don’t think there’s many mountains between Minnesota and Oklahoma.”
The plan was coming together. Even so, it frightened me tremendously. So many unknowns could spring up on us, the things we could never prepare for. Reason said that I would never see my cabin again after taking off on a quest for something that cannot be. I would miss my cabin, as it had graciously become my beloved home and in some ways a new family member. For this, I hedged. Over the next few days when Gene would talk more about the trip, I would remain stoic if not completely quiet. I was going back and forth in my mind.
Seven days had gone by since we devised the plan. It seemed all things were in place. So it was time to wait. We still had to pick a date.
“Gene,” I said, getting his attention.
The man appeared disheveled and frankly lost over something.
“Gene, pay attention. I think I have narrowed down a week at the end of September.”
But Gene wouldn’t look at me, let alone reply. He stared at the floor of his cabin.
“Gene!”
“Tomorrow,” he whispered.
“Tomorrow? What? I can’t handle cryptic Gene. I need here-and-now obvious Gene.”
“Look at the news report released thirty minutes ago. Go ahead, Wallace.”
I turned on my slate. Holding the cell in one hand, I read the report Gene was mentioning.
As of this day, 15 August, 2049, the Centralized Authority has deemed it socially apt to release Flegtide v34 in 50mg capsules to the surviving public. Every test on every race, sex, mentality, age, mental awareness, background, and body structure has been performed in the decade and a half since Flegtide was first announced. We are more than pleased to issue this drug, which could change our world as we have woefully grown to know it in the last twenty years. Careful guidelines outlined within the shipments should be heeded with great attention. Also, surveillance of each meeting following the use of Flegtide is highly encouraged in the event of the drug being ineffective. The shipments will begin tomorrow, 16 August, and you should receive them on or around the 22nd of the month. Thank you and good luck to all you opting survivors.
“Yeah?” I said. “We all knew it was coming, Gene. What does this change?”
“I spoke to Pauline. Again, Wallace, she’s dead-set on taking Flegtide, and I don’t want her to go near it. I know it will kill her one way or another.”
I knew where this conversation was leading. I hated it. “That is what you meant by tomorrow.”
“It is and I’m sorry, Wallace. I’m so sorry. If we wait any longer we won’t be able to reach her.”
“And what happens when we get there, Gene? Have you thought of that?”
“Yes. I’m going to intercept the shipment to her walk. I have the address of her cabin.”
“And I’m guessing you’re not telling her of your visit there, right?”
“Of course not, Wallace. She would know what I was doing and would stop it. She can’t know. Pauline can never know.”
“Very well, my friend. But please enlighten me. She will get another shipment in the next week when she realizes her initial one is missing. Do you plan on staying in Oklahoma the rest of your life and stopping every shipment?”
Gene went silent again. I realized I’d struck an unfortunate chord.
“Really, Gene? That will be your life? Living in a development you’re not authorized to be in the rest of your life to ensure your sister never takes Flegtide?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what I’ll do after the first shipment. It’s all a blur after the original intent. All I k
now is I can’t let her have that first batch.”
He was my friend. I would do anything for him. But now, after so much concession, I was beginning to question if he was worth it. Once more, Gene was nothing like Haydon, insomuch that I would not have questioned my friendship with Haydon like I did with Gene. That said, I agreed. I took the stupid route as opposed to the smart route and agreed to leave for Oklahoma the next morning at five o’clock.
It was time to pack and to pack quickly. I would take with me three changes of clothes—mostly shorts and T-shirts because I did plan on coming back to Minnesota when all was said and done-an armful of veggie paste, about eight sleeves of saltine crackers, a box of dry oatmeal packets, and a large bottle of thirty-year-old whiskey. On the outside of the pack was a sturdy poncho that doubled as a tent with the use of the mega-collapsible poles, a camelback with its tube extending over my shoulder for water, a light blanket, and the little essentials box with batteries, ointment, gauze, and pain medicine inside. I felt as though I was going back to Camp Nibi forty years earlier.
In the satchel around my shoulder to my waist was my cell, my slate, and only three spare batteries for each. This was going to be a problem, as I didn’t have time to order more batteries. I hoped that somehow along the way I would miraculously find spare batteries. It wasn’t likely, so I needed to conserve.
I didn’t sleep but a few winks that night. Gene left me alone, partially out of respect so I could sleep, partially out of guilt for coercing me to take flight perilously on such short notice. I occasionally fumed in my bed over Gene’s rash decision, often mixing that with understanding over his situation. He loved his sister, so why should I stop that? But was I being too nice? A friend tells his friend what he doesn’t need as well as what he does need.
Another issue I lost sleep over that night was the idea of the Centralized Authority and what they would do once they discovered Gene and I had left the development. They were a benevolent organization, yes, but they needed to keep tabs on folks. Especially now, as Flegtide would soon be everywhere and people would likely abuse it and many would die as a result. Would they care? Would they send vehicles to force us back to Minnesota? I didn’t know. But like the Ire altogether, I had to know. It was around two in the morning, just a few hours removed from our trip. I called up Jean-Terry Moreau, the Statesman.
In the eighteen years since he was appointed by the CA as our development’s Statesman, he was hardly ever seen. With the world now conducting itself void of the idea of money, hard jobs won no financial restitution, and the Statesman’s job was very hard. He was very astute, very organized, and highly efficient. But he was extremely private, which told us in the development that he didn’t seek credit or honor. I’d never spoken to him before.
“Who is this?” he answered, still mostly asleep.
“Hello, Statesman. This is Wallace Auker of Cabin 50 in the Minnesota Number-5 development.”
“Fuck, it’s two in the goddamn morning, Auker! This can wait.”
“I need to ask something of you now, Statesman! Please listen.”
“You have one goddamn minute.” Turns out he kept to himself because his personality was like a jar of acid. I did not enjoy talking to him.
“I know we are not prisoners here in the development. But are we allowed to leave whenever we want?”
It got his attention, as the Statesman, looking fifty years older than he did when he sent us off to our cabins, sat up from his bed and turned on the light on his nightstand. “So you want to leave.”
“I’m not saying that, just asking about the rules and if they’re official or not.”
“If you want to leave then leave, Auker. Nobody will stop you. I think it’s crazy, especially a week removed from Flegtide.”
“So I won’t be hunted and brought back here if not killed?”
“Oh you’ll be killed, but by the Ire, not the CA. According to the information on you, you’ve been here since the cabins were first made. You should know by now that this is a free world.”
“I just have to be sure my leaving isn’t followed by a manhunt, Statesman.”
“Oh, so you are leaving? May I ask why?” He was suddenly more polite, less coarse.
“Just a thing I have to do,” I answered. “None of your concern if this is a free world.”
“None of my concern whatsoever. Realize that since you are notifying us of your leaving, we will monitor your cabin over the next few months. If we see you aren’t back, we will use the cabin as a reissue and you will lose your developmentship.” His proper phrasing told me that he’d gone through this more than once before. It was so official. “Furthermore, if you call for our assistance away from the development you will be ignored. If by chance you arrive back at Minnesota Number-5 development, you can attempt to apply for developmentship again and your acceptance will be based on your reasons for leaving, your health, and whether we deem you responsible enough to return. If all this is understood, state your name and cabin outfit.”
I could tell he was recording this. It was official. I grumbled. “Wallace George Auker, Cabin 50 of the Minnesota Number-5 development.”
“Good luck, Mr. Auker. I hope you don’t die.” The last part was quite unofficial. And just plain rude.
I got the answer I sought, though it was peppered with a good bit of animosity. It was obvious Jean-Terry did not want to lose another body. More bodies in his development meant more resources coming to it from Bern. I would act the same if I were in his shoes. Still, we’d never talked in eighteen years, so it was not personal on the part of either party.
I slept maybe an hour, not very well either. My body ached, perhaps psychosomatically from the stress of the coming journey. I wasn’t ready to go. I still didn’t want to go by any means. But I finally had a friend, after a decade and a half of swearing another one off. I needed to follow through on my judgment, which at this point seemed skewed and disjointed at best. But I would go. I would leave the development the next day.
~~~~
Chapter 8
Like Rifts of Charcoal
Five o’clock. The buzzer from my cell screamed loudly, though I was already awake. The destiny toward my doom would not let me sleep much. I say destiny because it truly felt like I would shortly be walking into everything other than good. But I walk the walk, so my exit from the development was a guarantee.
I had already mapped out our development and the location of Gene’s cabin, number 89, to the west on my road. I walked the road, no other soul occupying its space. I’d instructed Gene to flash his front light when he saw me approaching so I would know it’s his place. He did just that. We were probably a little over one hundred feet from each other. Even so, I could feel just a mild twinge of Ire building in me as he left his cabin and walked toward the road.
“Gene,” I said over the cell. “You look gorgeous my friend, but I have to back off a little.”
“Oh, you feel it too?”
“I do. Been a while.” But it felt like it had never gone away. “Just like we mapped. You head out into the woods first and I’ll stay behind for now and try to keep you in my view.”
As Gene took for the woods, I looked around. I knew we were free to go, but I still got the sensation of the authority watching us. At any moment the flood lights would rain down on us and we would hear the distinct echo of attack dogs nearing. It was my imagination of course, but the sensation was still there.
It was only about half a mile through the woods when we decided to traverse the land distantly side-by-side as opposed to one following the other. By moving in a line, the one in the front stops without informing the one behind him and thereby creating a potentially devastating outcome. Side-by-side somewhat diminished such a great risk.
We’d walked a few miles when the sun began to show itself through the dewy summer trees. A chill lay in the air so prevalent and cozy that it made me want to put my head against a rock and sleep heavily. No chance, as we had a mission. I
n some parallel universe, this is the moment I instantly fell in love with nature.
As it turned out, maintaining constant eyesight with each other proved to be a herculean task. There were so many obstacles preventing continual supervision of the other person. I would call out to Gene on the cell repeatedly to ensure he was seeing the same thing. Such a feat was all the more stymied when the locations we described were trees, trees, a little field, and trees. A road, sometimes paved and sometimes dirt or gravel, would come into view or across our paths. Those helped some. Signs, on the other hand, helped tremendously.
“Do you see it?” Gene asked me over the cell. “Should be to your right over that little berm. Look. It’s green and says Fireside Court.”
“I had to dodge the lake, goddamn it. I don’t see it yet.”
“I’ll wait right here until you see it, or until I see you.”
We’d failed to remember Minnesota as the Land of a Thousand Lakes. Big lakes which we would have to flank on both sides. It threw us off. Some lakes took us something of an hour out of our way.
It was up to me to keep track of our progression. Every so often I would yell stop, pull out my paper map and also the GPS mapping track on my slate—satellites still worked for us following the Ire—and gauge our location and next landmark of a destination, i.e. a town or structure on the road.
We had to maintain a straight distance according to my map. That meant not diverting to the roads, as this would add hundreds of miles to our walk. As it stood, from our development to the one Gene’s sister resided in, Oklahoma Number-12 development near Elk City, was about 750 miles as the crow flies. Roads, while more walkable, were often out of the way. Still, we would need to find roads when we needed to cross a river or large creek; we would otherwise be getting wet.
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