“What about your parents?” Torbin asked.
“Mine died from radiation poisoning after they were caught in the opening during the original Hanford explosion. They knew they were contaminated, and managed to contact Uncle Buck, who had some military training. He knew something about decontamination procedures. He gave me some iodine, burned my clothes, and found me some new ones. When my parents were getting very ill, they would not let me come near them, or kiss them goodbye. Uncle Buck took me from there.” Abigail quickly wiped a tear from her cheek, hoping that Torbin had not noticed.
“That is what happened to many of the parents and other adults. They became sick and were afraid they would be a burden on the children. So, they sent the children to Deseret.”
“Here, we were fed, clothed, and sent to school. But we were kept apart, and were groomed for service to the State. After all, we could not have children.” A flame of anger was igniting inside Torbin. How could so-called God-fearing people treat children like pariahs? Yes, they gave them enough to survive. But Abigail and her companions were not given the love and close human contact children needed.
“Abigail, I have one more question.”
“Yes, Torbin?”
“You don’t glow in the dark, do you?”
Abigail looked at him, confused. “Of course not, Torbin.”
“Then the next time someone looks at you funny, tell them to go take a flying fuck at a rolling donut. Pardon my French.”
Abigail’s eyes widened. Then she burst out laughing. Torbin began to chuckle.
After she was finally stopped, she looked at Torbin with amusement in her eyes. “I don’t think they would take too kindly to me telling them that and using that… language.”
“Sorry, I should watch my language around a young lady. I just get really pis… angry sometimes when I think today’s young people didn’t get to have the childhood I had. Everyone deserves the chance to play, to have fun, to grow up at a normal rate. You should not have to worry about being eaten.” Torbin inhaled deeply, and let his breath out. Going into a rage about something he over which had no control was a waste of energy.
Abigail smiled warmly at him. “Torbin, you are always incredibly honest. You speak to me as an equal, not some….child. I like that. I like you. I hope we can always be friends.”
Torbin reached out clasped her right hand between his. “Abigail Young, we have faced Old Man Death—the Grim Reaper—together. That is not a bond easily broken. I’m a pretty good judge of human nature. In spite of all the of crap you have been put through, you have remained a ‘good soul’. You want me as a friend, you’ve got it. Just remember, I don’t do things half-assed.”
Torbin released her hand. “Here, I have a cooler of food we can eat. I’m assuming we have a ways to go. I learned a long time ago that you eat and sleep when you can.” He opened the cooler and examined its contents more closely. “Hm. Sandwiches, fruit, veggies, some junk food. Definitely not packed by a Squid. Don’t worry about poisoning. If I was going to be killed by the Director, I would be taking a dirt nap by now.”
Abigail actually giggled a bit, then took a sandwich, another soft drink. They ate and made small talk about what their diets had been like before the Invasion, and what their favorite foods were now when they could get them.
“I have a weakness for fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Probably because that was served a lot at Sunday dinners with my family. The taste brings back lots of good memories.”
“Well, Abigail, I’ve a weakness for thick steaks and good scotch. When you travel with me to Montana, I’ll introduce you to some of the best beef around. Not the scotch, of course. I know Mormons don’t drink alcohol.”
“Actually, Torbin, Prophet Smith has received a minor vision, a message from God. Given the problems with food and drink because of the Great Evil Ones—the Tschaaa—God wants us to survive. So, diet restrictions have been relaxed. But drunkenness is still a sin.”
Torbin thought this concept was interesting, and mused about what other traditional rules and mores the Prophet had felt necessary to change.
“I guess you will be driving me back to Montana and staying a while. Any reason why you were chosen as liaison, other than you knew me?”
Abigail paused for a moment, as if picking her words carefully. Then she sighed, and spoke.
“Since you’re a friend, I’ll be as honest as you are with me. I just ask you please, keep this to yourself.”
Torbin pantomimed locking his lips with an invisible key. This caused Abigail to giggle again. Since her time with her Uncle, there had not been many reasons to giggle like she had in her younger years. It made her feel warm and secure.
“Alright, Torbin, I will try to be brief. The Prophet has a wife. She is a very beautiful woman, dark brown hair, perfect complexion, a perfect figure. I believe she was a model before the rock strikes.”
Abigail frowned. “For some reason, she dislikes me, is jealous of me. The Prophet treats me as a daughter, nothing more. I do not understand why she seems jealous. She did lose her only child during the early attacks, and hasn’t conceived since. For whatever reason, she convinced her husband that I needed to be sent away if he was to have peace at home. When he heard of your coming, it was a perfect chance to send me away, but still know that I would be safe.”
Torbin harrumphed. “I’m glad he trusts me so much, a complete stranger to him.”
“He trusts me, Torbin. I told you that I have the ability to see into other people’s souls, to see who they are inside. He uses my abilities when he meets with people of whom he is unsure, and needs to determine their trustworthiness. He knows and trusts my abilities to see.”
Torbin seemed dubious. “You see a decent, capable person when you look at me? Boy, do I have you fooled.”
“No, you don’t, Torbin,” Abigail responded firmly. “I see your honest, good soul. You may not believe it, but you are a good person. You kill when you have to, but that is what you do, not who you are.”
Abigail’s expression changed, and her eyes grew more distance, as if she was looking through him. “You are an important part of what is to come. I see it.”
It dawned on Torbin that, in so many words, Andrew had said much the same thing. He shook his head. He did not feel worthy or capable of such supposed importance. He was a grunt, first and foremost.
“You have heard this before, friend Torbin. Please, believe it. And accept it. The Lord has plans for you.”
“Well, we’ll see. I’ll just roll with the punches like I always do. But enough of me. When we get to Montana, I’ll get you set up with living quarters, probably with the other female officers. My wife Aleks and I will be in married quarters, especially now since she is pregnant. We’ll have you over for dinner as soon as you get settled.”
“I will have some funds with me, Torbin, so I will be able to pay for my needs. They’re simple, anyway.”
“Forget it. Your money won’t be any good as far as I’m concerned, especially since you are saving my ass, and getting me home. Besides, as the Liaison-cum-Ambassador from Deseret, I imagine General Reed will obtain funds to cover your room and board.”
“But, be warned,” Torbin continued. “Everyone on Malmstrom works. Hard. No special treatment for delegates, ambassadors, liaisons, chief cook or bottle washer. No dead weight allowed under General Reed.”
Abigail seemed amused. “I’m, no stranger to hard work, Torbin. I would prefer to stay busy. Less time to think about what might have been.”
What Abigail mentioned was a current theme among almost all survivors. Six years of the loss of loved ones, hardscrabble existence, the constant threat that the Tschaaa would change their minds and start harvesting everyone again, or just the realization that humanity was not free meant that most survivors tried to keep their mind off of the bad things by keeping busy. Hope was kept alive in the Unoccupied States by sheer force of will.
“Good. Now, I am going to make a command de
cision and brief you on something that the Director confided to me before arranging my transportation. I’m doing this in case something happens to me en route home. The Director said I was free to go, but not only am I basically paranoid about trusting someone I just tried to kill, I also find it hard to believe the Squids won’t have something to say about my departure. I don’t think it was cleared through His Lordship, who unfortunately survived our nuke.”
“Before you start with this serious matter, may I ask you a question, Torbin?”
“Of course, Abigail. Shoot.”
“Your first name is unusual. May I ask how your parents selected it?”
Torbin laughed. “I eventually get asked that question by just about everyone. My Dad’s name was Toren, my Mom’s name was Robin. They took the first three letters of my Dad’s name, the last three of my Mom’s. I guess they were having a fit of originality when I was born, and wanted me to be marked as special. Go figure. It probably didn’t help my shape early disposition because kids constantly made fun of it for being weird. Then again, it also made me a scrapper which has served me well all of these years.”
Torbin gave another short laugh. “When my brother came around, they decided unusual and special wasn’t all what it was cracked up to be. So they named him William. I told them when I grew up that they pissed me off when they did it, as I felt my brother should have to suffer a weird name too. They said I could even change it and they wouldn’t be angry. But by then, I was used to it. They did it out of love. How can you change something that was done due to love?”
Again Abigail looked at Torbin, and had a sense of the honor and love that was a large part of his life. She knew to be worthy of his friendship was something special indeed.
Torbin regarded her serious expression. “I’d say a penny for your thoughts, Abigail, but they are probably deeper than a penny’s worth. Now, unfortunately, I must tell you something that will add to the serious tone, and is important, especially to all surviving females. This will piss… I mean, make you angry, but it adds another dimension to our relationship to the Squids, the Director and his people. My Madam President must receive this info. I know I can trust you to get it to her if something happens to me. I’ll leave it up to your judgment as to whether or not you tell your Prophet. I don’t know if what the Squids did to others has reached Deseret yet. But, here goes...”
Torbin tried to be as efficient in telling the complete story as he could. Abigail asked a few very penetrating questions, once again demonstrating a maturity and understanding beyond many others. Torbin knew then he had made the right decision in telling her. About thirty minutes later, he was done.
Abigail sat in silence. He waited for her to finish processing the strange and horrible information he had just told her.
“Maybe Mathew is right. Maybe the stories of the Ancient Evil Ones by the author Lovecraft were based on truth. The Squid Evil seems to have no end.” Torbin saw a look of seething anger in Abigail’s eyes, a look of ‘revenge’.
“Have you noticed any similar behavior among women in Deseret, Abigail?”
“No. Such activities and behavior would have been instantly reported to the Church Elders, who are the senior authorities. I’ll have to at least warn Prophet Smith to keep a look out for similar behavior. If our population becomes contaminated with such substances, our Spiritual Purity will be called into question.”
As intelligent and capable as Abigail was, she still saw things through the prism of her Church. The current Mormon leaders seemed to have a fixation with purity. Therefore, people tainted with possible radiation exposure were ‘not pure’ enough to reproduce, although there was a good chance that normal babies would result.
“Well, I’ll leave it to you as to how to break this news. I think eventually all humans need to be told so we can start dealing with the possible side effects. Having children that develop at an accelerated rate and reach adulthood, at least physically, years before they should is going to cause some problems in human society. Not to mention men and women growing to near giant size.”
“That’s very true, Torbin. Whenever someone starts to mess with the way God made us, it always ends badly. And yes, I have read Mary Shelley’s book. I think the Tschaaa should have read that book as well before they started deciding what life and man should become.”
The one thing that Torbin had not shared with Abigail was the vial with the organic based pills and nanites the Director had given him. He wanted to get it directly to General Reed, who would find specialists to examine and dissect the material. Hopefully that would help determine if the Squids had decided to “test” these substances on the Unoccupied States, like they had in Cattle Country. Torbin did not want Prophet Smith trying to hold onto the material himself, in a feeling of self-importance that the people of Deseret were the ones to handle the problem.
“So, Torbin, what was the Director… like?”
Torbin grinned. “Well, he didn’t have horns sticking out of his head, or a long tail and pitchfork.”
Abigail snickered. “I know you think we Mormons are extreme in our beliefs, that we take everything literally. But, even though we may call the Squids the Evil Ones—Satan incarnate—and call the Director the Anti-Christ, it is more an attempt to place their actions into a framework we are used to using. At least the Prophet and I know the aliens who have infested our planet are flesh and blood like we humans. The Director is not the biblical Anti-Christ, but he performs much the same function one would perform in the Second Coming. So, as a human who once served the United States military, what was Director Lloyd like?”
“He seems to be convinced that he is doing the best he can to save as much of the human species as possible, and eventually better our lot by convincing the Tschaaa to treat us at least as a client species. He points to the Lordship’s assistance in the Occupied States with the new Space Program, re-establishing the Internet, broadcast television, medical care, and etcetera. But, I asked him a question that seemed to unsettle him a bit.”
“What was that, Torbin?”
“I asked him if the Squids ate the other client species they brought with them, such as the lizards. He said as far as he knew, no, they did not eat lizards. However, he had to admit that, bottom line, we would always clearly be potential protein to them, no matter what other roles they allowed us to hold.”
“Why didn’t he see that before you mentioned it? It would seem clear that the Tschaaa would always look at us as meat first, anything else second.”
Torbin shrugged. “He recognizes Cattle Country, but compartmentalizes it in his mind. He thinks that by sacrificing people of color in Cattle Country, he can save the rest of us. It’s based on the Squid’s Protocol of Selective Survival. Like Nazi Germany, as long as they only came for the Jews and the handicapped, the rest of us are safe. Germans in towns near the concentration camps ignored the smell of burning of bodies, the cattle cars taking people in but never out. They did not want to notice anything wrong as it would shake their belief that they were safe and had a good standard of living. Much of it on the back of slave labor, conveniently ignored.”
Abigail frowned. “I am beginning to think that what some people say about we humans is true. We are just basically animals, with Original Sin never really washed away. We have a level of evil in us that we must constantly fight against.”
“Well, Abigail, I find it hard to believe you have anything evil inside you. You are way too nice and solid.”
Abigail blushed. “Please, Torbin. I don’t believe that I’m a morally superior person. I am a flawed human just like the rest of us.”
“I won’t argue about your perfection. But I will paraphrase a little Rudyard Kipling; ‘You are a far better human than I am, Miss ‘Gunga Din’.”Abigail smiled.
“Now, young lady, let me tell you about what a father said to his son after coming home with the Theory of Evolution,” Torbin said. “He said, ‘Well, your father may be a monkey, but my father sure isn
’t.’”
Abigail was quiet for a moment, but then started to snicker. Torbin had to admit she had a infectious laugh. Probably because she laughed from her heart. She reminded him of a little sister he never had. It sounded like her birthday party the following evening might be more like a prom or quinceanera, if he read correctly into what the Prophet and President had told him. Damn, he hoped so. Abigail needed some normalcy and fun. The last six years of her life had entirely too much death in it, especially for a young girl growing into early womanhood.
“Tell me more about your new hardware, my young Captain.”
“Oh, you mean this Glock? Well, I got it from some Ferals after you left Evanston following the fights with the Demons.”
Torbin frowned. “At Evanston? What do you mean?”
“Five feral male… creatures—I will not dignify them by saying they were men—came to the town just before we left. I won’t go into details now, other than to say only one left. He drove off, but he was wounded. If I ever meet him again, I will not be held responsible for my actions.”
“Where did they come from?”
“They came down from Great Falls, Montana. They claimed they were scavengers, who went out to pick over abandoned towns.”
Torbin became noticeably agitated. Scavengers often found goods in abandoned homesteads and communities that dotted the areas outside of Tschaaa control. The pickings were getting leaner, as many areas had been previously searched by the military, and survivors trying to locate family members. Not to mention those areas that had been contacted by Director Lloyd’s forces. As they often sold items to the U.S. Government, some of the hardcore groups started to act like they were official representatives of said government. They felt they had the authority to take what they wanted, go where they wanted. General Reed and the reconstituting civilian law enforcement authorities were trying to reign them in, disband them as they organized more of the surviving communities.
The Tsunami Page 3
