How could this be possible? He squinted at the tiny figures moving about on deck. Were they from the Southern City the scavengers talked about? That was just a rumor, like the fishermen’s tales of ships on the high seas, but if one rumor was true…
“Sir,” a guard said.
The Doctor snapped out of his thoughts. The guard held out a pair of binoculars.
Adjusting the focus, he studied the ship. It was battered, obviously a salvaged antique and not a new construction. It looked like a patchwork quilt of rust and new steel repairs. Paint seemed to have been a low priority. What there was looked flaked and weathered, although he did see a fair amount of primer to protect the metal. The superstructure was even worse off, with some sections looking like they weren’t used. Most of the repairs had been saved for the hull.
Wait.
New steel repairs.
New. Steel.
“They have afoundry,” The Doctor gasped.
The word came out awkward, unfamiliar. It was a word from his childhood, a word that for most people didn’t mean anything.
It meant something to Clyde, though.
“Oh my God,” the Head of the Watch said. “OK, everyone get back! That’s an order. All nonmilitary personnel move back to the hills. You can watch from there.”
His words came out muffled from behind his gas mask and only the closest onlookers heard them. There was a babble of objecting voices. A loud female voice cut through them all.
“Get your asses moving before me and my deputies start busting heads!”
The Doctor turned and saw Sheriff Cruz and her two deputies, Frank Edgerton and Jackson Andrews, pushing people back. Grudgingly the crowd began to move.
Satisfied that his guards and what passed for law enforcement in the Burbs would take care of crowd control, The Doctor looked back through his binoculars and made a slow sweep from prow to stern.
On the prow, in new white paint, something was written in an Asian language. It didn’t look Korean. He’d seen enough Korean to know their writing had a lot of circles. This was mostly made up of sweeping lines.
Japanese? Thai? He didn’t know. Had they really come from across the ocean?
Passing along the boat, the next thing he saw was an artillery piece mounted on the foredeck. A crew in identical white uniforms and caps stood at attention next to it, but the gun faced forward, not at them.
He bit his lip. If that thing worked and wasn’t just a bluff, they were fucked. Nothing in New City’s arsenal could match the range of an artillery piece. Well, maybe the DShK-4, but they’d used the last of the heavy machine gun’s ammo staving off the Righteous Horde.
He continued to scan the deck. A group of sailors in the same uniform as the gun crew clustered around a large rowboat that was being lowered by a pair of small cranes over the side. Everyone seemed to be Asian.
They really are from over the ocean, The Doctor thought, awe tingling every nerve ending.
The rowboat touched the water and the crew unhitched it from the cranes.
“Doc,” Clyde said. “We should get out of sight in the hills. If they decide to use that gun…”
“They seemed more inclined to talk.”
A disturbance in the line of guards between him and the shore made him look. A sour-faced man in filthy clothing, his skin covered in a harsh rash, was arguing with some of the guards.
“Let me through. One mayor should be able to talk to another without you assholes getting in the way!” he shouted.
“Who’s that?” The Doctor asked.
“Oscar, he runs the village on the shore there,” Clyde said.
“Oh, right. Keep him and his people out of the way.”
“Hey!” Oscar objected. “This is our bay and we have trading rights with them.”
“You never claimed this bay,” The Doctor said. “Move it.”
The guards led him away and The Doctor, Clyde, and a small retinue moved to the shore. They passed through a filthy village, which his men quickly cleared of its people, and stood by the water as the rowboat headed for them. He noted that all the oarsmen, indeed all the crew on the ship, wore cloth masks and eye goggles.
Looks like they’ve dealt with polluted harbors before.
At the prow of the rowboat sat two men. One was an older Asian with gold braid on his shirt and cap. The other was a black man. The black man raised a hand, pulled his mask off, and called out to them, “Greetings from crew Admiral Zeng He ship! We come for yours!”
The words came out so heavily accented that it took a moment for The Doctor to process them.
“Come for ours, what does that mean?” Clyde said, fingering his M16.
“Everyone keep their guns down,” The Doctor ordered.
Taking a deep breath of clean air, he pulled off the mask. As the leader he needed to show his face.
The rowboat scraped up against the shore. The Doctor moved his men back a few paces. The black man steadied himself at the prow of the rowboat, gave the oily water a distasteful glance, and stepped onto the sand.
“Admiral Zeng He ship greets yours! You goods we want.”
The man with the gold braiding stepped off the boat, helped by a pair of sailors who kept him from ruining his white uniform in the polluted water. The rest of the crew followed. Tensions rippled along the line of The Doctor’s guards as each sailor retrieved a Kalashnikov from the bottom of the boat. When they saw the reaction, the Asian sailors hesitated, knuckles going white on the grips of their weapons.
“Calm down! Easy!” The Doctor called.
The man with the gold braiding shouted out something in a foreign language and the sailors spread out to make a line facing The Doctor’s own. The black man took a couple of steps forward, stopped when one of the New City guards took a threatening step towards him, and put up his hands again.
“Peace,” the black man said. “Peace and goods. Yours we want and we go.”
“What the hell is he talking about?” Clyde said.
“Put that gun down!” The Doctor said, batting the barrel of Clyde’s M16 just as he was raising it.
Paranoid idiot, he assumes every stranger is an enemy, The Doctor fumed, then had to concede to himself that in this history of New City, the vast majority had been.
The black man shifted uneasily. He traded several quick sentences with the man in gold braiding.
“I name Gebre Selassie,” he said. “Habasha Tigray. Speak forth Admiral Zeng He ship. Captain Wang.”
“I am having trouble understanding you,” The Doctor said slowly and clearly. “We want peace. Where are you from?”
Gebre Selassie’s face clouded with confusion until the final sentence, when it brightened with understanding.
“I Habasha Tigray. Red Sea man. Captain Wang and ship men Sinos.”
“Sinos?”
“You call China. Chinese.”
There was a staccato clicking as all along the line as the guards snapped off their safeties and raised their M16s. An instant later the sailors raised their AK-47s.
CHAPTER SIX
“Why are we running?”
Pablo tried to keep up with Jessica and Zach. The stink coming from Toxic Bay made him want to toss his cookies. The mask wasn’t helping at all anymore.
“You want to get caught sneaking off?” Jessica said. She sounded like she wanted to toss her cookies too.
They passed through the hills, making a wide detour away from the main trail. Pablo wasn’t sure, but he thought they’d end up in the farmland east of the Burbs. He hoped they didn’t get lost.
After a time, they got far enough into the hills that the air grew cleaner. They sat on some boulders and caught their breath.
“Where is that ship from?” Pablo asked.
“From across the sea,” Jessica said.
“So that’s who I was talking to?”
Zach looked surprised. “You were talking to them?”
Jessica laughed. “Well I couldn’t talk to them
myself, could I? What if my dad recognized my voice?”
“Your dad has a radio too?” Pablo asked.
“That was his radio. But he probably has more. He’s got lots of stuff.”
He remembered Deputy Andrews saying that numbers were sometimes used to tell where places were on old maps. “So he told you to bring the ship here? Is that what those numbers were for?”
“That’s right. But we used different numbers, remember?”
Pablo scratched his head. “But why?”
“You ask too many questions, kid,” Zach said.
“You’re a kid too.”
Zach sat up straighter. “I’m a man.”
Pablo ignored him and turned back to Jessica.
“Why did we give them different numbers?”
“They’re called coordinates,” she said.
“Why did we give them different coordinates?”
Jessica frowned and looked him straight in the eye.
“Because I want to stay here.”
They got up and continued to walk. Pablo didn’t ask any more questions. Jessica didn’t look like she wanted to answer any more questions.
But he had so many! Who were those people? Where did the ship come from? How did they get a ship going anyway? When was he going to meet the radio guy?
He knew all about old ships from the movie nights at Roy’s bar. They had sailors in white suits and they sailed to beautiful islands with funny trees called palms and they had little lakes on board so people wearing special underwear could go swimming. Those ships were called cruisers. Adults went on them to fall in love. There were freighters too. The ship that came into Toxic Bay looked like a freighter. Back in the Old Times they carried all sorts of stuff all around the world. They were like a great big floating harvest trade fair.
He wondered where they were from. One of his books had a map of the world with all sorts of old names nobody used anymore. He’d have to look at it when he got home and try to figure out where the freighter came from.
Too bad it wasn’t a cruiser. It would be fun to swim in one of those lakes. But maybe they wouldn’t let him since he didn’t have the right underwear.
Maybe that wasn’t the only ship. What if there were a whole bunch? Maybe they had cruisers too, or an airplane carrier. He’d seen a picture of an airplane carrier once. It looked totally scary. They were probably even scarier in movies, but war movies were Blame and nobody was allowed to have them. He’d never seen one.
No, he didn’t want them to have an airplane carrier. Those airplanes dropped the Big Ones. Lots of cities had disappeared because of the Big Ones. Maybe it was just a bunch of freighters bringing more trade fairs. Everyone knew the trade fair was the best time of the year. It would be cool to have more than one.
Just as Pablo expected, they came out onto the farmland to the east of the Burbs. He felt proud he had figured it out. He could find his way in the wildlands no problem. He’d been born in the wildlands, after all, so he was a natural. Well, that wasn’t exactly true, he had been in Mom’s stomach and that was close enough. Mom and Dad had been scavengers, so he could be a scavenger too.
Thinking of Dad made him sad. He’d died before Pablo was born. He always felt jealous of kids who had two parents. Greg was lucky, he had a mom and dad and real aunts and uncles, not just friendly adults who you called aunt and uncle.
At least he was better off than Hong-gi. He didn’t have any family at all. Even Mom was better than Mr. Fartbag.
Pablo felt tired. It was still a long way through the Burbs but Jessica and Zach looked like they wanted to get back quick. They were walking ahead of him holding hands and ignoring him. That was so annoying. Jessica was cool to be around when Zach wasn’t there. When he showed up, it was like Pablo didn’t exist.
Fine. He’d just go play on his own. First he’d have to get some lunch, though. His stomach was rumbling. Then maybe he could go explore more of the wildlands after lunch. He stuffed the gas mask Zach had given into his pocket and giggled. The dumbass didn’t even remember to ask for it back.
Jessica looked over her shoulder. “We’re going to go on ahead. You OK to walk back from here?”
“Sure,” he said, putting on what Mom called a “brave face.”
“OK, thanks for your help!” she said with a wave and a smile.
“Wait! Now what?”
Jessica shrugged. “Your job is done. You’ve been tons of help. Everything else will work itself out. See ya.”
Jessica and Zach picked up the pace and soon left him behind.
“Ha, ha, you forgot your gas mask,” Pablo whispered. “And if you ask for it back I’ll just say I lost it. Now I can go back to see that ship anytime I want.”
By the time he got back to the Burbs he was dragging his feet. Almost everyone was gone. He was so tired it took him a minute to realize why. They were at Toxic Bay, of course. Probably the sailors in their white suits had come onto land and everyone was having a big party. He didn’t want to miss that.
First he needed to eat. Pablo headed home. He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the padlock and chain that kept the door closed. The interior of their shack was dark and quiet. He closed the door and slid the bolt. Only a dummy didn’t lock his door in the Burbs. Their shack had three rooms—a big room for sitting and cooking and eating, and two little bedrooms in the back. Pablo felt too tired to cook anything so he ate a crust of bread and some salted meat left over from the night before. Then he curled up in bed. He’d rest for a little bit and then go to the party.
He woke up to someone shaking him.
“Oh honey, are you OK? I was so worried about you!”
Mom.
“Of course I’m OK. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Mom gave him a big hug. The butt of her pistol jabbed into his side.
“Ow!”
“Sorry kiddo. Come on, pack your things.”
“Why?”
“You’re going to stay at Uncle Marcus and Aunt Rosie’s.”
“Why?”
“There’s trouble. Come on, I don’t have much time.”
“What sort of trouble?”
“Damn it, get up!”
Pablo put on his shoes and pulled his emergency bag from under the bed. Mom always made sure he had an emergency bag. She said to only put the important stuff in it like a change of clothing, a waterproof sheet you could turn into a tent or poncho, a knife, a canteen, and enough pemmican and dried fruit and nuts to last you a couple of days. Pablo had slipped a couple of books into his emergency bag too. Adults had to run off into the wildlands for emergencies, but kids got to stay in New City.
Mom dragged him outside. He’d slept longer than he thought and the sun was already low over New City, making the wall and watchtower all black against the light. The Burbs looked like they were going crazy. Everyone was running back and forth screaming at each other. The market was empty. All the traders had packed up their stuff and left.
Mom pushed her way through the crowd, once knocking a guy over who didn’t get out of the way fast enough. She was pulling so hard on his arm Pablo felt like it was going to pop off.
“Is the Righteous Horde coming back?” he asked.
“Worse than that, kiddo.”
“Worse?”
“The Chinese are coming!”
Pablo suddenly needed to pee real bad. The Chinese? Hadn’t they all been killed in the wars? They dropped Big Ones on cities and shot families and ate babies. He’d heard the stories old people told.
If the Chinese were here, they were all going to die.
They made it to the gate. Guards were pushing back panicked families and shouting, “Only citizens and associates! Calm down! Only citizens and associates through the gates. If you have children, hand them over to their designated caregiver and return to your homes!”
Mom shoved her way to the front. Pablo got batted around by the crowd as she yanked him through.
A guard stopped them.
“Only citizens are allowed to carry guns in New City.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Egan, do I look like a Chink to you?” She shoved past the guard.
“Are they letting all the kids in?” Pablo asked. He was trying not to cry. Mom said only babies cried.
“Of course they are, honey.”
Beyond the gate the way was clearer. Pablo looked back at the wall and saw guards up there in Kevlar and helmets and all their big guns. Mr. Devon was giving orders and waving his M16 around. He looked really excited and happy like he always did when there was an attack. Mr. Devon was kind of crazy, but he sure took care of that weirdo who wanted to do stuff to Emily. It was good to have someone like Mr. Devon on the wall.
They hurried over to Uncle Marcus and Aunt Rosie’s house. Aunt Rosie was waiting for them and gave him a big hug. Pablo saw a couple of other Burbs kids there too, including Greg Miller. Uncle Marcus wasn’t there because he was probably doing important stuff with The Doctor.
A loud, deep thud outside told Pablo that they’d shut the gate.
Pablo moved over to Greg. “Did everyone get in?”
“They didn’t let my parents in! They let them in last time,” Greg said, his eyes brimming with tears.
“There’s no attack, child,” Aunt Rosie said, stroking his hair. “This is just a precaution.”
“Then why do you look so scared?” Greg asked. Aunt Rosie looked away.
“Did all the kids get in?” Pablo asked.
“Of course they did, hon,” Aunt Rosie reassured them.
She went off to a five-year-old who was curled up in a corner crying. Aunt Rosie wrapped her arms around him and started singing him a song and rocking him back and forth.
“Hong-gi didn’t get in,” Greg said.
Pablo’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“We passed by his farm when my parents were taking me here. Mr. Fartbag was making him help dig a pit to put all his grain in. Said he didn’t have time to send him inside. My dad had a big argument with him but Mr. Fartbag said that they’d take their chances on the outside.”
“He can’t do that!”
Greg shook his head. “He can if he wants to. There’s no law saying you have to bring your kids inside.”
We Had Flags (Toxic World Book 3) Page 6
