by David Lucin
“Sam, get these two drones plugged in,” Dylan said as he popped open the Ford’s passenger-side door. “I don’t care where. We need them juiced up ASAP.”
Sam undid his seat belt. “Sure, we should have some power left in the second battery.”
“Good. Use that first.” One foot already outside the vehicle, Dylan added to Jenn, Quinn, and Beau, “You guys, get your stuff packed up and see if anyone inside needs a hand loading anything up. I assume we’re all headed to the Skydome.”
From the middle spot on the back bench, Quinn frantically nudged Jenn with her elbow. “Come on, come on. Move it.” She bounced her knees up and down. “I’ve needed to pee since this morning.”
Jenn climbed outside, into the brisk winter air. A fresh layer of white covered the roof of HQ, as well as the treacherous path to the front door. Had it snowed while she was gone? For the first time in her life, she prayed for more snow. A heavy downfall could block the roads and slow the horde’s progress. Then she remembered the honest-to-God snowplow at the head of the convoy. Where did the Khan even find something like that, and how did he generate enough solar power to keep it moving?
As soon as Quinn’s boots hit the pavement, she darted for the porta-potties on the far side of the quad.
“She wasn’t lying about having to go.” Sam reached into the bed of the truck to undo a bungee cord holding the drone in place.
“Apparently.” Jenn watched Townsend, Courtney, and the rest of Yannick’s team jog around the backside of HQ. She didn’t know where they were going or what they were doing, but it must be important. Presumably, the Militia would be helping evacuate residents to the Walkup Skydome. Jenn wondered if Maria had already been moved or if she was still at home.
“You need a hand?” Beau asked Sam.
Sam detached another bungee cord. “Yeah, thanks. Let’s get this drone down and plugged into the battery. Then we’ll roll the other one over to the charging station out back.”
As Beau fidgeted with a bungee cord on the other side of the truck, Jenn reached into her bag, digging around until she found her ring. “I’m going to head inside,” she said to Sam as she slipped it on her finger. “See what the deal is. Talk to you in a bit?”
“Yeah.” He began turning toward the truck but did a double take of her left hand. “I’ll never get tired of seeing that on you.”
“I’ll never get tired of wearing it.” She stood on her toes and kissed him. Her lips lingered on his, and she thought about the two of them sneaking off, if only for a few minutes, but they had work to do. “Okay, I’ll be in the barracks if you need me.”
She made to head inside, but Sam held her by the waist. “Wait. You all right after all that? It was kind of crazy.”
His entire body shook, and his eyes were wide, pupils full. By now, Jenn had grown used to battle and the lingering aftereffects, but the delaying action in Holbrook might have been the most intense moment of Sam’s life. It was one of Jenn’s as well, but the Battle of the Farm and the shootout with the Major’s forces at the hospital in Phoenix both ranked higher. She understood how he felt, though, and in her opinion, he was handling the adrenaline dump like a pro. The Jenn who turtled in fear when the first refugees from Las Vegas showed up in May would have been jealous.
“Yeah, it was.” She put her hands on his chest. “But it’s over now and we’re home safe and sound.” Briefly, she thought about the people who were blown apart with that trailer, but she felt nothing, and that strange sensation poking at her ribs had disappeared. If anything, she was glad they were dead. “Just remember to keep breathing, okay? I always hold my breath in tense situations, and it only makes things worse.”
He sucked in air through his nose and let it out through his mouth, his shoulders rising and falling in turn.
“See?” she asked. “Works, right?”
His shaking eased, and the wild look in his eyes had begun to fade. “It really does. Good tip.”
“Happy to help.” She kissed him again. “Okay, I gotta go. I’ll be back soon.”
She braved the path to the front door, careful to watch her step where she tripped two nights ago. Halfway down, she heard a porta-potty slam shut, and Quinn jogged across the quad to meet her.
“Feel better?”
“Much,” Quinn said. “Now I just need eight solid hours of sleep and a decent meal.”
Jenn’s stomach growled, and she became aware of how badly her eyes stung. She could only imagine how red they were. “Yeah, I wouldn’t count on getting either of those things anytime soon.”
They went inside, through the vestibule and into the main barracks area. A wall of warm air greeted them, along with the scent of burning wood. As usual, darkness engulfed the room, despite the sunlight streaming in through the small windows near the ceiling. It took Jenn’s eyes a few seconds to adjust, but when they did, she noticed most of the cots and mattresses were gone. Those that remained had been stripped of their bedding. All of the offices were empty, too, save for Townsend’s; the captain was furiously pulling papers from her desk and shoving them into a duffel bag. Courtney, Yannick, and his grunts were nowhere to be seen.
“Where is everyone?” Quinn asked. “It’s a ghost town in here.”
“I know. I expected it to be busier than this.” With so few points of reference, it took Jenn a second to find her and Sam’s mattress. “I’m going to get my things. Then do you want to—”
“Jansen?” a scratchy, hoarse male voice called out from the opposite side of the barrel stove.
Carrying a duffel bag, a tall figure dressed in baggy gray sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt ambled toward her. He remained in the shadows, but Jenn recognized the movie star face and the neatly trimmed blond beard. He’d given up the surfer hair and now wore it short, almost buzzed. The new style made him look more serious, more confident. No longer was he the self-conscious and fearful recruit she nearly had demoted in the fall.
“Freddie?” she asked.
He dropped his duffel bag and gestured to himself with both hands. “In the flesh.”
On instinct, she reached into her pocket to grab her mask but realized it wasn’t there. It must be in her backpack. Although homemade cloth masks mostly helped prevent the wearer from spreading the flu, she preferred having at least a thin layer of fabric between her and potentially infected people. And Freddie wasn’t only potentially infected; he was a confirmed case. “I thought you were in quarantine.”
“When I woke up yesterday, my fever was gone. They kept me for another day, but when they started packing up and moving into the Skydome this morning, they let me go.”
That made sense, she supposed. Fever was believed to be the telltale sign of contagiousness, but she couldn’t help thinking of him as a walking Petrie dish. “So you’re not sick anymore?”
“Nope.” He stepped out of the shadows and into the light, revealing gaunt cheeks, pale skin, and dark bags beneath his eyes. In the ten days since Jenn had last seen him, he’d aged several years. “I feel like someone chewed me up and spit me out, but otherwise, I’m all right.”
“Holy crap, Freddie,” Quinn blurted out. “You look like a zombie.”
He only sighed at that. “Nice to see you, too, Quinn.”
“Oh, come on. You know I’m just kidding around.” She closed the distance between them, arms open for a hug.
Freddie stepped back and lifted his hands. “Whoa, easy there. I’m all for hugs, but the docs told me not to get too close to people for the next week or so, if I can, just to be safe.”
She let her arms fall to her sides. “Fair enough. Glad to see you pulled through and didn’t die on us.”
“It was touch and go for a while. My fever topped out at 105. Sweats, headache, worst sore throat of my life. Completely lost my appetite. Dropped ten pounds, I think.”
“Freddie,” Jenn said, sounding a lot like a worried mother, even to her ears. “That’s not good. You don’t have ten pounds to lose.”
<
br /> “I know, I know. I’ll be fine. I’m ready to help out.”
“You’re not fine. You should be resting.”
“No.” The force in his voice caught her off guard.
“What do you mean no?” she asked. “Quinn’s right. You look like a zombie.”
He threw a fierce scowl toward Quinn, who thrust out her bottom lip and said, “You do. I’m just telling it how I see it.”
“Always trust Quinn Novak to give you her honest opinion.” Freddie tugged at a drawstring on his sweatshirt. “But honestly, Jansen, I’m fine.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. If Freddie was “fine” now, a few days ago, he really must have been knocking at death’s door. Again she worried for Maria. If New River flu could do such damage to Freddie, a relatively healthy young man, what would it do to someone in her sixties with COPD?
“Okay, maybe not fine,” he admitted. “But there’s no way I’m sitting around while this White Horde is out there.” He snapped his fingers, and his face brightened a shade. “Hey, what happened with you guys in Holbrook? Everyone’s all right? You do some damage or what?”
“It’s a long story,” Jenn said. “We’ll tell you later.” She kicked his duffel bag with her boot. “Dylan sent us in here to find out what’s going on. Is everyone already at the Skydome?”
“They packed up last night.” Slowly, like every movement caused him great pain, Freddie retrieved his bag from the floor. “The place was pretty much empty when I got here this morning. Sergeant Murphy told me to get my things. We’re headed over to help unload and set up.”
“Perfect. We’ll grab our stuff and go with you.”
15
Conveniently, the Walkup Skydome was only a ten-minute walk from Militia HQ.
Snow stuck to its domed surface like icing on a cake. Banks of doors and windows, shielded by half-moon-shaped overhangs, circled the base. Most had been hastily boarded up. Even now, the sounds of hammers and, to Jenn’s surprise, an electric drill filled the air. Nearby, the weathered but iconic statue of Louie the Lumberjack, the bearded NAU mascot in a yellow flannel shirt, blue overalls, and a red beanie, watched on in silence, axe in hand.
At first, Jenn had been skeptical about the plan to shelter residents here, but now that she saw the Skydome up close, it seemed as good a place as any. It had a lot in common with a giant bunker, and while she doubted some plywood over the windows and doors would keep out the White Horde, the Khan’s followers would take heavy casualties if they tried to break in. The defenders wouldn’t be able to hold out forever, though, not without running water and not against a thousand determined, psychopathic soldiers. The Militia would need to defeat the horde in open battle—or at least cripple it beyond repair. After the delaying action in Holbrook, Jenn was eager to strike another blow.
Trucks, vans, and trailers crowded the parking lot adjacent to the main gates on the east side. More than a hundred people scurried about, carrying boxes or pushing dollies and hand trucks down a freshly shoveled path through the snow. A few in police uniforms directed traffic. The level of organization was impressive. She had confidence in Gary, Liam, and Chief Morrison, of course, but seeing their plan in action made her feel like Flagstaff could pull this off, like it could, against all odds, truly defeat the White Horde.
Near one of the trailers, a thick-shouldered Bryce conversed with Sophie while they watched a group of farm security unload blue water cooler jugs. Jenn wanted to say hello and thank them for helping, but Freddie, Quinn, and Beau were already marching toward the Skydome’s main entrance behind several residents dragging wheelie bags.
“Come on,” Sam said, and she rushed forward to catch up.
Entering a gray concrete concourse with a low ceiling and polished floors, they were greeted with a panoramic view of the Skydome’s dark interior. Spotlights in the stands shone onto the field below, revealing a city of tents and makeshift shelters constructed of tarps, sheets, and blankets that covered almost every square foot of turf. Thousands of people had crowded into the space. Others had taken up residence in the seats. The air—warm, humid, and stinking of urine, feces, and body odor—stuck to Jenn’s clothing and skin. Over the roar of voices, she made out a baby crying and the distinct hack of wet coughing.
She couldn’t keep her mouth from falling open. Only once had she come inside the Skydome, for a calculus final in her freshman year. The scene was unrecognizable now, reminding her of New River when she visited with Sergeant Murphy in September.
“You should put on your mask,” Sam said to her, securing the straps of his own mask around his ears. Freddie, Quinn, and Beau had all masked up as well.
“Oh, right.” She did as he suggested and asked Freddie, “Where are we going? Does the Militia have a place to keep our stuff?”
“Murphy told me we’re setting up shop in the locker rooms.”
“Okay, great. How do we get there?”
Two cops in black Flagstaff PD uniforms ran past, nearly barreling into Quinn. A pair of men in winter coats carried a box between them and began descending a set of stairs that led through the stands and toward the field. Six or eight more, all empty-handed, ascended the same set. In the concourse, a group of twenty-plus headed outside through the main doors.
“Good question,” Freddie said as he spun in a circle.
Beau pointed at the field. “I’m going to venture a guess and say we can get there from the sidelines.”
Quinn gestured dramatically to the nearest staircase. “Then lead the way, smart guy.”
He went first, dodging the two men carrying the box. Quinn and Freddie followed him. Before Jenn could fall into line, she heard a familiar voice call out from behind, “Jennifer? Is that you?”
She whirled around and caught a glimpse of fiery orange hair as her best friend nearly knocked the air from her lungs with a tight hug.
“Hey, Allie,” Jenn squeaked and returned the hug. “I don’t think we’re supposed to be hugging, but I won’t tell if you won’t.”
“Oh, right!” Allison Findlay pulled away but held onto Jenn’s arms. Like everyone else in Flagstaff, Allison had lost weight; she might not even break one hundred on the scale anymore. Her hair had been done up in a messy bun, strands falling out and framing her face. Her skin was white, almost translucent, and her freckles had faded slightly since the onset of winter. She wore a coat two or three sizes too big, and a blue mask covered her mouth and nose.
“It feels like I haven’t seen you in months,” Jenn said. “You’re good?”
“Yes! What are you doing here?” Allison bounced on her toes, green eyes wide with excitement. “I mean, you’re obviously here to help, but when did you get back? Where were you? I thought you were in Window Rock with Dylan. And then the police came by and told us we had to leave because something called the White Horde was going to attack us. Is Dylan okay? Charlie’s been so worried and . . .” She put a hand on her chest and sucked in a labored breath.
“Easy,” Jenn said. Allison used up her last inhaler over a month ago. Fortunately, she’d learned that stress was a major factor in triggering her asthma. She had to avoid strenuous physical activity, but overall, she’d become much better at managing her condition without medication. At times, though, like now, she got overly excited and ran short of breath. To give her a quick break, Jenn answered as many of her questions as possible: “Yes, Dylan’s fine.” Except not. Forty-eight hours later, the employee remark continued to niggle at her, yet she still wanted to help him deal with his past or his feelings, if he would let her. “Last I saw him, he was at HQ, but he’ll be here soon. And yes, we were in Window Rock.” She decided not to recount the battle in Holbrook; hearing about it would only encourage Allison to ask more questions. “But we’re back and we aren’t going anywhere.”
“Jenn!” Quinn shouted from the stairs. Freddie and Beau were already halfway down. “You coming?”
“Go ahead,” Jenn said. “I’ll catch up.”
Quinn gav
e her a lazy salute with one finger and followed the boys toward the field. Sam didn’t budge, remaining at Jenn’s side.
“It’s pretty crazy, huh?” Allison looked past her, at the city of tents and tarps. “That’s just over half the people who’re going to stay here. More are on their way.”
“Are you staying down there?” Jenn asked, then thought of Maria and her COPD. “Do you know where Gary is, by chance? Is he here?”
Allison cocked her head to the side and arched an eyebrow. “Wait, you haven’t heard?”
Jenn’s breath hitched. She exchanged a worried glance with Sam. Had something happened to Maria? No, it couldn’t have. Jenn had only been gone for a few days. “Haven’t heard what? What’s wrong?”
“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong.” Allison covered her masked mouth with one hand. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I meant you didn’t know that we’re all staying in one of the press boxes?”
“Press boxes?” Sam and Jenn asked at the same time.
“Yes, press boxes.” Allison pointed toward something on the opposite side of the field. In the dim light, Jenn couldn’t make out many details, but her memory filled in the blanks: at midfield, above a banner that read NORTHERN ARIZONA UNIVERSITY, lived several VIP suites and the press boxes. “It’s my family, yours, Charlie’s, and Liam’s. Almost everyone’s out setting up and helping with evacuations right now, but Maria’s up there. So is your mom, Sam.”
Jenn should be tracking down the rest of her platoon, but she hadn’t seen Maria since Ajax’s funeral. “We should go see them,” she said to Sam. “Just to let them know we’re okay. They’re probably worried sick.”
“Good idea.”
“Great!” Allison chirped. “Follow me. I’ll show you the way.”
She led them counterclockwise through the concourse. They passed an empty space that might have once sold team merchandise, followed by a row of concession stands, their windows all closed, the LED menu screens black. A number of people walked by, heading in both directions. Some were police. Most were civilians. None camped out up here. Jenn almost asked Allison why but realized that if the White Horde broke into the Skydome, most of the initial fighting would occur in these confined halls.
