by Ford, Lizzy
“I have everything I need here,” Mrs. Watson replied. “Solar generator, a year’s supply of food, weapons. No need to go elsewhere.”
“You might need more than a year of food,” Lana said before she could stop herself. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s that bad?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll deal with it when it comes.”
Lana smiled faintly, grateful for the familiar woman’s gruff calm.
“What’re you doing here? I thought your boss would’ve airlifted you out.”
“He airlifted himself out.”
“Typical of the political elite,” Mrs. Watson said with a frown. “At least you didn’t get caught up in the rush to the bridge.”
“I was … working that night,” Lana managed.
“Lucky you. Doesn’t look like any of our neighbors made it.”
Lana lowered the soup, her appetite gone. “Is it safe for you here alone?”
“With enough weapons, yes. Most of the condos have been looted already. I blew apart the last thug that tried to get in here. They come back every couple of days,” Mrs. Watson said and indicated the living room window with one gnarled hand. “They threw in a grenade last time. It was a dud. I got as many boards up as I could.”
“Who are they?” Lana asked, eyes on the window.
“Everyone’s trying to survive. You do what you have to in that situation, even work with people you didn’t think you ever would,” Mrs. Watson said wisely.
Lana’s face grew warm again, and she silently thanked the retired fed for brushing off her grays so diplomatically.
“Can you fire a weapon?”
“Poorly,” Lana admitted.
Mrs. Watson appeared thoughtful before she pushed herself to her feet and hobbled to the couch. She picked up a handgun-sized laser weapon, set it down, and picked up a smaller one.
“Take this one,” she said. “Keep it on you at all times.”
“Are you sure?” Lana asked.
“I have enough. It was my daughter’s long ago. She couldn’t shoot a greencar if it was in front of her. Here’s how you load it.” Mrs. Watson demonstrated with a deftness at odds with her age. Lana watched then took it when Mrs. Watson held it out to her. “You came from the river?”
“Our helo went down and got tangled in the bridge’s support wires.”
“That would explain why you were wet. You’re lucky if you fell out of the sky into the river and lived to tell it.”
“I don’t feel lucky.”
“You’ve always struck me as a smart girl. I’m sure there’s a reason for your survival.”
Brady. The ache deep within her started again. Lana pushed him from her mind. It hurt too much to think of her Guardian. She couldn’t help feeling bad she’d never taken much time to get to know her neighbors better. She knew nothing of Mrs. Watson’s family. Mr. Tim never gave her the time to form friendships. Her condo was nothing like Mrs. Watson’s. Lana’s apartment held the basics: a place to sleep, a place for her clothes and enough furniture for Jack to sleep on.
“Where were you headed when you fell out of the sky?” Mrs. Watson asked.
“South, I think,” Lana said vaguely. As much as she liked Mrs. Watson, she feared trusting anyone ever again. “I was with some … ah, well, others who knew where we were going.”
“Rebels?”
“Yes. PMF members.”
An awkward silence fell. Lana lifted her soup again and sipped.
“Your condo was likely broken into,” Mrs. Watson said after the long pause. “You can stay here tonight. Probably safer. I put up boards on all the windows. No guarantee we’ll survive the night, but you probably understand that.”
“I’m beginning to,” Lana said. She set down the bowl, emotions bubbling again. “Mrs. Watson … I have nowhere else to go. After tonight. I mean, I know where I should go, but I …”
“You’re scared?” Mrs. Watson asked with a gentle smile.
Lana nodded.
“You should be. These are scary times. I’ll give you as much ammo as you need. People overestimate how much food they need. As long as you have water, you only need to eat once a day.”
“I can access the emerops storage facility,” Lana added. “Walking across the country seems crazy.”
“In my time, walking was the best way to evade being caught,” Mrs. Watson said. “I never told you I was one of the original members of the special ops security teams, did I?”
Lana shook her head.
“I was on their first team in the East-West War. The second team had the benefits of genetic modification. We didn’t. We had to rely on our wits as well as our bodies to get into and out of some really rough places. If you need to walk cross country then walk cross country. Maybe by the time you get there, this all will be over.”
“You’re a wise woman,” Lana whispered. “I’ve never been on my own before this. I don’t know if I have what it takes. I’m not like you.”
“Get some rest. The guest bedroom has been ready for visitors since my daughter died ten years ago. In the morning, I’ll feed you, pack you a bag, and send you on your way. Mission first, my dear.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Watson.” Lana smiled, amused at such hardcore words from a woman whose frail frame would struggle under the weight of a laser shotgun. Still, she heard the wisdom of hundreds of special ops missions in Mrs. Watson’s voice. Mrs. Watson was right; Lana needed to complete her mission, even if she wasn’t sure how to do it.
Without Brady. Her smile faded, pain filling her breast. If only she hadn’t been so angry at him when they parted. Or if they’d met at a different time. Or if the helo hadn’t gone down.
Near tears again, Lana retreated to the guest bedroom, sat on the bed, and withdrew the micro. She began to plot a route west. Jack stretched out on the floor beside the bed. Her gaze went to him in consideration, and she wondered if it was better to take or leave him.
The emerops facilities were placed strategically, with one never more than two days from the next closest depot. Of course, most of those travel days were by vehicle of some sort. She chewed her lip as she watched the micro map multiple routes, gauging how much food and water she’d have to carry to survive. And ammo. She’d have to take as much as she could.
She cried herself into a restless sleep. Jack’s snoring and the Horsemen under her pillow kept her from sleeping well. She couldn’t stop thinking of Brady. She even caught herself touching her ear to keep from sliding her finger behind it to the subcutaneous net implant. Even if she had one more chance to talk to him, she wasn’t sure what she’d say. But she missed the sound of his voice, and her body yearned for his touch again.
When dawn outlined the boards hammered across the windows, she rose. Mrs. Watson was already up, and the scents of bacon and eggs reminded Lana how long she’d gone without real food. The elderly woman sat at the small kitchen table, her weapons within reach.
“I have these for you,” Mrs. Watson said and held up two bags. “Anti-sleepers and appetite suppressants. I hated these things, but you might need them.”
“Thank you.”
“Sit down. Eat.”
Lana did. She ate fast and had second helpings. Mrs. Watson sipped tea and waited for her to finish before she motioned to the clothing slung over the back of the couch.
“You should be dressed in civilian clothes. These were my daughter’s. I packed you a bag with a change of clothes. I only have one weapon that takes that ammo, so you can take it all. I repaired your boots last night. You’re set.”
“You don’t know how much this means to me,” Lana said with feeling. “I couldn’t do it without your kindness.”
“Nonsense. You’d find a way. I’m just helping start you off right. Keep in mind the vandals and thugs are out at night. You’ll want to find a place to sleep where you can protect yourself. And you must take Jack. I packed enough food for Jack for three days.”
Lana nodded. She rose, anxious to be on her way but grateful to take Jack with her. Mrs. Watson quietly swept their dirty plates away. Lana approached the couch, where the large rucksack sat. She hesitated, recalling how bruised her shoulders already were from the harness in the helo. With a deep breath, she hefted the heavy sack and pulled it over her shoulders. She turned in time to see Mrs. Watson’s skeptical look turn into a smile.
“Thank you again,” Lana said and started to the door. “I’m going by my place really fast. When I get somewhere safe, I’ll send help for you.”
“I’m fine, dear, really. I’ve got enough ammo to outlast any vandals.”
Lana opened the front door. Unaccustomed to the weight of the rucksack on her back, she almost toppled over at the first step of the stairwell and caught the banister with both hands.
“Here. Tighten the straps. The higher on your back it is, the easier to carry,” Mrs. Watson instructed.
Lana felt the weight lifted, and she wrenched the straps as tight as she could. When Mrs. Watson released the rucksack, it felt better balanced, though no lighter. She stepped down the stairs slowly and turned to wave at Mrs. Watson. The elderly woman stood in her doorway and waved.
With a return wave, Lana set her gaze on the door to her own apartment up the stairs. A few minutes of huffing later, she opened the door. Despite what Mrs. Watson had said of vandals, the apartment was untouched.
Lana closed the door behind her and looked around, dismayed. There was a reason the apartment was still the same. She had nothing. Mrs. Watson’s apartment was warm and homey. Lana’s a place to sleep and nothing more. Aside from her bed, wardrobe, and a couch, there was nothing else in the apartment. Jack slept on the couch, and all her belongings were in the wardrobe.
The condo felt like it belonged to a stranger. Her throat tightened. The only thing remotely personal she owned—her photo viewer—had been destroyed on the Peak. She’d never thought of her apartment as lacking character. Of course, she’d rarely been there in daylight. Mr. Tim was high maintenance.
Jack crossed to what had been his favorite spot on the couch. He sniffed at it.
Lana opened her wardrobe and looked at the fed uniforms hanging within. They were pressed and waiting for her, as if no one had told them her life had changed. In fact, standing in her apartment, she had the surreal sense that life hadn’t changed, as if she could open the door and go to work like any other day.
Emotion filled her as she realized she’d never had a home, even before the attacks. She’d never appreciated her former life enough to make her apartment her home. She’d never taken a chance on a man or let herself wonder what she was missing. Lana snatched the uniforms and flung them around her room. She slung the markers designating her as the Undersecretary’s assistant against the wall then crushed them with the heel of her boot.
It didn’t feel like enough. She still felt anger and sorrow. She shrugged out of the rucksack and opened the drawers of her dresser, dumping their contents onto the floor. Looking around, she realized her life was filled with nothing but government-issued clothing and a cheap, worn bedspread.
She had nothing but Jack. Now that there was no government, she was nothing! The flash of her reflection in the mirror caught her attention. She looked thinner, pale, scared.
Lana sank onto the bed and cried again. She wanted Brady back. Jack padded to her and thrust his moist nose into her ear. Lana hugged him. She recovered herself and wiped her tears, gazing around one last time. It was a grueling two-day walk to the nearest emerops facility.
With a deep breath, she rose and struggled in to the straps of the rucksack. Jack waited for her by the door, and she tucked the weapon Mrs. Watson gave her into one cargo pocket. The old woman had loaded it for her. The Horsemen were in her other cargo pocket. She touched the pocket as she moved towards the door.
No matter what, she had to get the Horsemen to safety. She started towards the forest hedging the road adjacent to the condo community.
“Come on, Jack.”
Chapter Twelve
BRADY’S WORLD WAS ONE of cold and darkness. He was wet, that much he could determine. The ground beneath was rocky. He thought he heard voices from somewhere. They faded as he fell into his unconsciousness. He felt nothing as he floated in the dark of his mind, until sudden, hot pain tore through him.
His body bucked, and his eyes flew open. Lights blinded him and there were several blurry faces hanging over his. The world grew loud, with voices jumbling with the sound of equipment and possibly the thump of a helicopter. He couldn’t focus and strained against whatever held him in place. He made out one familiar voice.
“Be still, Brady. You’re okay!” Dan shouted.
Brady relaxed, unable to clear his head or move his body. He fell back into the dark quiet of his mind. When he awoke again, it was to the feeling of a warm breeze across his face. He didn’t recognize the hospital room. Its colors were pale purple and the bed beneath him more comfortable than any he’d lain in.
It had to be a fed hospital. Army-types and rebels would never have access to such a place. The appearance of a nurse in a fed’s uniform in his doorway confirmed his assumption.
“How are you feeling?” she asked as he stretched and sat up.
“A little rough,” he admitted. His voice was gravelly from lack of use, and his arms and legs felt heavy as he tested them. “Where am I?”
“Billings Federal Medical Facility. Stay in bed. You were a mess when they brought you in.”
“Billings?” Brady asked. “As in … I’m in Montana?”
“Good. We were worried you’d have some brain damage,” the woman replied cheerfully. “You remember your name?”
“Brady.”
“Rank.”
“Major.”
“Where did your accident happen?”
“I wouldn’t call falling out of the sky an accident,” he grunted. “We were shot down somewhere in Tennessee.” His mind began to clear. “Where is she?”
“Where is who?”
“Lana. She was with me in the helo.”
“You were the only survivor.”
Her words fell as hard as he had from the sky. The nurse smiled again and studied the micro in her hand, which monitored his vitals. Brady sat in silence for a long moment, thinking hard. He recalled the horror of falling from the sky and getting caught in the bridge. The terror on Lana’s face was fresh in his thoughts, and he heard her scream again as he was flung from the helo, before it hit the water.
“Did they pull the helo out of the river?” he asked. “Did they verify I was the only survivor?”
“You can ask in a little bit, after you eat.”
“No. Now.”
The nurse raised an eyebrow but didn’t jump at his sharp tone. He could guess her thoughts without hearing them: she was silently clucking at the army-type who thought he could boss around a fed.
“I’ll bring you something to eat,” she said instead and walked out.
Brady struggled to move his body. He was weaker than he remembered feeling in a long, long time. He shoved the sheets off and looked over his body. His right arm was bandaged with a fracture-snap, his left ankle as well. He touched his face and felt the scars running along the left side of his face, neck, and head. He was shaved bald. Irritated, he sat back on the bed. Even his DNA-enhanced body would need time to heal, just not as much time as a normal person.
But he had to know if they found her body. His heart leapt then sank as Lana’s scream echoed in his thoughts again.
“Hey, champ.” Tim’s voice was a pleasant distraction. The politician managed to make even his casual wear appear distinguished as he stood in the doorway with sparkling blue eyes.
“How did I get here?” Brady asked.
“Dan called me. I sent in twenty helos and only one made it back.”
“Lana?”
Tim’s smile faded. He shook his head. Brady released his breath.
“Dan sta
yed behind where your helo went down to search. You were in critical condition. The docs put you in a coma for over a week in order to transplant half your organs. You’ll be on your feet in no time.”
“I hate organ transplants.”
“You’ve got the innards of an eighteen-year-old. I plan on having the same transplant in about ten years.”
“So she’s gone.” He felt worse than he expected. “I failed you.”
“You kept her alive for quite a while,” Tim said. “I’ll always be grateful to you.”
“They didn’t find the Horsemen or her micro either?”
“Nothing.”
Brady’s gaze went to the window. There was no body, no micro, and no Horsemen. He couldn’t imagine all would still be missing, unless she was alive somewhere. Hope trickled through him. She had to be alive.
“It might take me awhile to get used to the bald Brady,” Tim said. “I’ve got work for you here, but I think—”
“I want to go back.”
“—I think you want to go back.” Tim chuckled. “You think she’s alive, like I do.”
“I think where she is, so is her micro and the Horsemen.”
“I thought it odd none were found, but they didn’t find the pilot or anyone else from the crash either. Dan searched the whole area, for ten kilometers out in every direction he could. Lana doesn’t have the … skills for survival.”
“The one thing you didn’t teach her,” Brady pointed out.
“If I’d known the world was getting ready to end, I might’ve taught her that, too,” Tim replied smoothly. “What I can say is that she learns fast. She knew where we wanted her to go, and—assuming she’s alive—she has access to every facility on the route.”
“If she’s not dead in a ditch somewhere. She has no sense for first aid, either.”
“True. But …”
Brady knew what the ambitious man wanted. Tim’s concern was as much for Lana as it was her precious cargo. Tim cared for Lana—that much Brady could see—but Tim cared as much for his career and getting what he wanted. Brady was a different kind of man. Even if he didn’t put the same price tag on something material, he didn’t begrudge Tim for being the way he was. Without Tim, none of them would’ve survived in the first place.
