Tabernacle (Super Pulse Book 3)

by Dave Conifer

  “I’m glad to see everybody survived the invasion,” Sarah said.

  “Me too,” Dewey agreed. “There were, like, tons of people at the Medical Center today that weren’t doing so good. And I heard a few of them didn’t make it.”

  “Nine people died,” Matt Shardlake said. “Five soldiers and four civilians. I hope we don’t start running out of people. It isn’t even winter yet.”

  Before anybody could reply, Ellie Shardlake returned from the kids table where she was checking on the children, two of whom were her own twins. “Things are good over there,” she reported. “They couldn’t wait for me to leave. God knows why.”

  “Nice to see the older ones looking after the younger ones,” Tom commented. “I wouldn’t have seen that coming six months ago.”

  Penny snorted. “Yeah. That and a billion other things, right?”

  “Try two billion,” Nick said. “And that was before today.”

  “That’s the first thing you’ve said since we sat down, Nick,” Matt Shardlake said.

  “Yeah, what’s up with that?” Sarah said. “For you, that usually has to do with what’s going on up here,” she added, tapping on her own temple.

  Nick nodded slowly. “I saw something today that I can’t get out of my head, I guess.” He went on to tell them about the dying man he’d come across, leaving out the part about who had fired the fatal shots. He stared at his plate in front of him as he explained what Barton Moon had asked of him, and what he’d had promised he’d do. “At the time, I wasn’t sweating it,” he said in conclusion. “I figured I’d tell him what he wanted to hear, so he could die without worrying. I would have said whatever it took to give the man some peace. But now I’m not sure if I have to do anything about it.”

  “Well, like, the dude’s dead,” Dewey said. “What difference does it make? He won’t know whether you do it or not.” He blew out a deep breath. “But I know what you mean,” he conceded.

  “Not to be morbid,” Matt said after glancing toward the kids table, “But is he still out there? What’s the procedure for burying dead invaders?”

  “Yeah, is there a subcommittee for that?” Tom asked. “There’s one for everything else.”

  “I told my boss about it,” Nick said. “He’s on The Committee. He said he’d take care of it. That’s the least of my worries, to be honest.”

  “Hold onto your hats,” Tom said under his breath. “Here comes Deena Hammiker.” Nobody moved, hoping she’d pass by without noticing them. Deena was a pleasant sort, but always had so much to say that it was a lot of work to be around her. Sometimes it was better to let her pass on by.

  There’d been a lot of talk about her after everybody arrived at the middle school after leaving Crestview. It turned out that nobody, not even the leaders, knew who she was or where she’d come from. Somehow she’d managed to insert herself into the group simply by boarding one of the buses out. Once this was discovered, nobody had the heart to make her leave. After all, as healthy as she was, she had to be in her sixties. She bubbled with the enthusiasm of a younger woman, but the crow’s feet around her eyes and her long silvery hair betrayed her true age.

  Somebody, Nick couldn’t remember who it was, remembered Deena panhandling down at Sholman Plaza a few days before the EMP. Only she never actually asked for money; she was too smart and charming for that. Instead, she told a clever tale, one so clever that it rang true, which ended with her explaining that she had no idea how she’d get back home, but wasn’t worried that the means to do so would present itself. Invariably, this person reported, her audience cheerfully handed her a few dollars and wished her well.

  “She’s not quite right,” Matt said as he looked down at the table.

  “But she’s not quite wrong, either,” Nick replied. By then Deena had reached their table and wasn’t going to be ignored.

  “You haven’t seen my son and his wife, have you?” Deena asked. “They told me I’m not allowed to come here. But I came anyway. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  “Uh, no,” Matt stammered. “We haven’t seen them.”

  “At least not since breakfast,” Tom said. He winced as Matt kicked him under the table.

  “Don’t tell them you saw me, okay?” she said, a broad smile crossing her face. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” she added before moving on to another table.

  “Don’t encourage her,” Matt whispered to Tom.

  “Dumb question,” Nick said, “but she doesn’t really have family here, right?”

  “No way,” Matt said. “Nobody has any idea who she is or where she came from.”

  There was silence for a few minutes as everybody at the table, famished as always after a day that had been even more trying than usual, dug into the meal of venison and cranberries. As darkness approached, bringing with it a November chill, everybody seemed anxious to finish eating and get into their cabins, where they could throw their daily ration of split logs into the stove to warm up. Nick wanted to talk more about what was on his mind, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “I can’t wait for squirrel night,” Tom said. He was referring to the recent addition to the menus, thanks to the new-found prowess on the part of John Markle’s hunters in bagging squirrels. “And you can file that under ‘Things I never thought I’d hear myself say.’”

  “Yeah,” Matt said. “Food Supply said they’d be bagging a lot of them once they set up a team for it. So far, all the squirrel they’ve brought in has been by accident.”

  “Here comes Jenny,” Ellie said as they were stacking their plastic dishes and silverware for return to Food Distribution. When Sarah looked up, Ellie pointed at the path through the cabins. “What’s that kid’s name again?”

  Sarah laughed. “She calls him ‘Gygax.’ That’s his last name. At least I hope it is. They sure do spend a lot of time together. He’s volunteering over at the Medical Center until they give him a real job.”

  “Well, it’s nice to see her smile again,” Ellie said. “I don’t know what’s more important than that.”

  “We were real worried about her while you were gone,” Penny said. “This is much better.” They watched as the teens walked past without so much as a glance in their direction.

  “Hopefully they got something for dinner,” Sarah said. “If not, nothing I can do about it now.”

  ~~~

  After dinner most of the group migrated into the Hellikson’s cabin to huddle around the stove to relax and chat. Since firewood was at a premium, the other families brought some of their own allotment to make up for what the Helliksons would have to burn up while the visitors were there. Somebody brought some old coffee grounds that had been scrounged up from the kitchen, so all the adults enjoyed a cup of cowboy coffee as they talked. The conversation followed the usual pattern. They started differently every time, but they seemed always to end on the same general theme. Life was hard and relentless, but they were lucky to be where they were. The grubby, desperate attackers some of them had seen earlier in the day underscored the point that evening.

  ~~~

  Earlier, as the dinner dishes were cleared and his friends stood to leave the table, Nick had carefully melted into the dusk. Usually he joined the rest of them to hang out after dinner, but tonight he wasn’t up for it and knew he wouldn’t be good company. Instead, he’d find his own company back in his cabin. He wasn’t living alone anymore, now that Dewey had been released from the Medical Center, but by the time the coffee klatch broke up he knew it wasn’t going to matter how many roommates he had.

  Once inside his cabin he went straight for the green bag he’d been carrying his meager wardrobe around in since they’d left Crestview. He knew that what he was looking for would still be there, intact, and he was right. The bottle of pink cranberry wine was none the worse for wear. For weeks he’d been expecting, maybe even hoping, that Matt and the others would confiscate it. So far, though, at the end of every day, there it was, bu
ried at the bottom of the bag. And now he was glad to have it.

  Now that he’d been issued a set of tools, pulling out the cork was an easier matter than it had been the last time. With the help of a screwdriver and a pair of pliers, he managed to get it out in one piece. Ha, he laughed to himself. In the unlikely event that he didn’t finish the bottle, he could seal it back up for later. He carried it over to the stove and opened the front to find that there were still a few embers burning orange in the bottom. All it took was a handful of pine needles and a couple quartered logs to get a fire going. Fifteen minutes after dinner broke up he was sitting against the wall next to the stove with the bottle clamped between his thighs, except for when he was tipping it into his mouth. Finally, he was going to be able to get Barton Moon’s face out of his head. At least for a while.

  ~~~

  By eight-thirty that evening the Hellikson cabin had begun to empty out. Matt was still there, but Ellie had disappeared, off to get the kids into bed before the cold came. Tom was busy doing the same with his own four. Sarah had left to check on her daughters, only to return and complain that Jenny was still off somewhere with Gygax. She, Penny, Matt and Dewey were staring at the fire through the grate in the stove when the knock on the door came.

  It turned out to be Carlo Moriarty. After he stepped inside they all introduced themselves, although everybody there knew who Carlo was and he knew most of them. It turned out he was looking for Nick, but didn’t know which cabin was his.

  “Can you point me in his direction?” Carlo asked after being told he was in the wrong place. “I need his help with something.”

  “Where is he, anyway?” Sarah asked. “He was at dinner.”

  “I’ll go check our place,” Dewey said. “He probably hit the sack.”

  “Appreciate it, my brother,” Carlo said. “Tell him I’m heading for a meeting and I’d like to bring him with me.” Dewey nodded as he backed toward the door and left to retrieve his roommate.

  “Kind of late for a meeting, isn’t it?” Matt said.

  “Tell me about it,” Carlo answered. “This wasn’t a typical day in the barrio, you know? There’s lots to talk about. I guess the powers that be called this pow-wow as soon as they could. The professor himself dropped by to invite me.”

  “The professor?” Sarah asked. “I didn’t know we had one of those.”

  “Better known as ‘Rowthkee,’ or however you say it,” Carlo explained. “I just call him ‘Professor.’ But mostly I don’t call him.”

  “He and Nick don’t get along so well,” Matt commented. “At least that’s what Nick says.”

  “They keep it real,” Carlo said. “But they don’t agree on very much, if that’s what you mean.”

  “So where does an important guy like Roethke go on a day like today?” Sarah asked. They were talking about Ted Roethke, a physicist who was generally accepted as second in command to Dr. Grover Monroe. “I don’t remember seeing him or Grover at all.”

  “Beats me,” Carlo said. “The Committee called this meeting, and it’ll be the first time I’ve been anywhere near them myself since yesterday.” He looked toward the door. “How far away is that cabin, anyway?”

  “Two doors down,” Sarah said. “But maybe Nick wasn’t there. None of us has seen him since dinner.”

  Before there was any further speculation, the door opened and a forlorn Dewey walked back in alone. “He’s like, um, he says he doesn’t want to go.”

  “What?” Carlo asked. “Why not? This is important. Was he racked out?” When he saw Dewey’s puzzled look, he added “Was he asleep?”

  “Well, yeah,” Dewey said, obviously uncomfortable and searching for the right words. He looked helplessly at Sarah and Matt, his mouth open but speechless.

  Sarah read his face and finally nodded with understanding. “Come to think of it,” she said, “Nick didn’t eat much at dinner. Then he left the table and headed for the latrines before we were done. I think he’s sick.”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Matt said. “He said he thought he was coming down with something.”

  “If he’s asleep, we better let him stay that way,” Sarah said.

  Carlo stared at them for a moment. “And you all just remembered this just now, huh?” he asked.

  “Yeah, he didn’t look like he was feeling, like, up to going to a meeting just now,” Dewey reported.

  “This is a bummer, man. So I take it that everything I heard about him was true then,” Carlo said. “Right?”

  “Cut him a break, okay?” Sarah said. “He’s had it tough.”

  “Well, I could have used his help,” Carlo said, a trace of anger in his voice. “There’s something that me and him see eye to eye on. I thought he could help me convince The Committee. They were actually going to let him in this time.”

  “Sorry,” Sarah said. “Maybe if he’d known about it earlier.”

  “Nobody else did,” Carlo answered. “Why should he? But it doesn’t matter now. I’m late already.” He moved toward the door. “I’ll tell them he’s sick. Maybe we can put this off until tomorrow.”

  After Carlo was gone, all three of them fell into the chairs around the stove. Sarah finally spoke. “Just so it’s out in the open between us -- he was sick like he used to get sick back in his basement, right?” she asked Dewey.

  “Yeah,” he answered. “He was laying on the floor near the fire. Right before I got there, he burned his hand on the stove. It was all blistery and stuff.”

  “This is my fault,” Matt said. “I knew he still had some of that wine left. I kept meaning to get in there and take it, but we’re always so busy.”

  “This is on him, not you,” Sarah said firmly. “I’ll get on him about it. Let’s just make sure this stays between us, okay? Because once Carlo reports this, I doubt it goes over too well with The Committee.”

  Five

  Nick was vaguely aware of others moving about the room at dawn the next morning, but he did his best to block it out. His mouth was already dry. He knew if he moved a muscle, his head would start pounding. The familiar pain of the morning after was inevitable, but it never hurt to put it off as long as he could. Instead, he closed his eyes before anybody had seen him watching, and managed to get back to sleep.

  He wasn’t sure how much later it was when Sarah appeared and sat on the side of the bed, gently shaking him. “Nick, time to get up.” She held a large cup, presumably of water, as an enticement. It worked. He propped himself on an elbow and looked up at her until she handed him the cup. A few drops ran down his chin and neck, but most of it went down his throat in three gulps.

  “It’s a quarter of eight,” she said. “Where are you supposed to be this morning?”

  “More water,” he said, trying to move as few muscles in his jaw as possible as he spoke, although he’d already awakened the pain.

  “Dewey’s bringing another cup,” she told him. “And he’s giving you some of his Tylenol. You know, the stuff they give people who are really injured.”

  “I’m sorry, Sarah,” he said. “I got something in my head I can’t handle.”

  “You saw a guy die?” she asked. “Who hasn’t?”

  “It’s worse than that,” he argued. He was surprised at her hard attitude, until he remembered some of the details she’d given him about what had happened during the weeks that she was off with Dewey, returning to her home to look for her husband. The woman who once wanted to help everybody she encountered, no questions asked, was a bit more cynical now. She was a product of her time. There was plenty of pain and death in her stories, too. Maybe his own predicament wasn’t worse, after all. He didn’t know what to think.

  “We can talk about this later,” Sarah told him. “If you get moving now, you can still weather the storm. You’re not that late yet. So where are you supposed to be?” she asked again.

  He forced a smile as he looked into the cup. “Was this from Matt’s water works? He’s really getting it done, isn’t he?” He dra
ined the cup and flopped back down onto the mattress. “Tastes like a swimming pool.”

  “Matt pulled it off nicely,” she agreed. “He hadn’t even gotten started when I left for Medford. I missed a lot. But you were getting it done, too, until now.” She yanked the blanket off, leaving him exposed. He was instantly cold, despite being fully dressed in yesterday’s clothes, which were also today’s clothes in the new world he lived in. When he reached to pull the covers back on, Sarah gently restrained him by the wrist. “Rise and shine, buster,” she said.

  Just then Dewey opened the door and came in. As promised, he brought more water and two capsules of relief. Nick sat up, grunted his appreciation, and held his hand out. After Dewey deposited the capsules in his hand he quickly swallowed them, followed by the water Dewey proffered next. He fought the urge to lie back down, knowing what Sarah’s reaction would be. “I need to finish the Bath House roof,” he said, finally answering her question. “Nancy’s probably already there, I’m sure, but she won’t know what to do without me.”

  Sarah stepped backward and waved him out of the bed. “All the more reason, right?”

  ~~~

  As he stumbled toward the Bath House, his tool belt slung over his shoulder, he could see his breath. That wouldn’t last too long. It would warm up by mid-morning. But it was a sign that winter was coming on hard. He reminded himself for the billionth time how lucky he and his group were to be at Tabernacle, and twice as lucky once winter arrived. The cost of being part of Tabernacle was pulling his weight. It was the same cost for everybody. He nearly fell short that morning, he knew. Somehow, he’d have to do better.

  Just as he’d expected, Nancy was already on the roof. Surprisingly, she was already laying shingle and knocking in nails. She was a fast learner, and she seemed to work even better working by hand than with the pneumatic hammer, something they had been denied for this project as part of the effort to conserve energy for the winter. After waving to her, Nick paused when he reached the bottom of the ladder to let his stomach settle before climbing up to start work. Before he’d put a foot on a wrung, however, he heard somebody shout his name.