Desolation Boulevard

by Mark Gordon

  Chapter 76

  The Followers

  Sally was sound asleep when Bonnie woke her. “Hurry up! I have to show you something.”

  “What’s up? Are the others back?” asked Sally frantically, still half-asleep.

  “No, but there’s something you need to see. Come on.”

  Sally wrapped a blanket around her to ward off the morning chill and followed Bonnie out into the lounge room.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Bonnie moved to the front window and pulled the curtains open. "Look."

  “My god!” Sally gasped, “Where did they come from?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ve counted about thirty. That’s way more than last night. If they keeping arriving at this rate, we’ll have hundreds of them out there within a week or two.”

  Sally studied the assembly outside the fence. They sat around in small groups or pairs, occasionally looking up towards the house, as they chatted. Two more fires had been lit since last night, and people huddled around them, holding their hands toward the flames to keep warm. Bonnie pointed out to Sally that there was no dominant type amongst the crowd - the ages ranged from toddlers to older folk, and there was an even mix between genders.

  “Why do they keep coming?” asked Sally. “What do they want from us?”

  “I’m not sure,” answered Bonnie. “Let’s get Gabby up and ask her.”

  “I’ll get breakfast ready while you wake her,” offered Sally, padding off to the kitchen.

  Bonnie went into the bedroom and sat down on the bed next to her daughter. It really was true, she thought - children did look like angels while they were asleep. The love she felt for Gabby was overwhelming, but a dark shadow hung over their future together. Bonnie sensed that the little girl she had given birth to six years ago was becoming a part of a much larger family. She didn’t want to admit it, but Gabby’s inexplicable powers were not their secret any more. She stroked her daughter’s forehead and gently called her name.

  “Morning mummy,” Gabby said dreamily, as she opened her eyes.

  “Good morning sweetheart,” Bonnie said, bending down to hug her. “How did you sleep?”

  “Okay. Is it time to get up?” she asked, as she scratched her crazy mop of bed hair.

  “Yes honey, it’s breakfast time; Sally’s getting it ready. Put your dressing gown and slippers on.”

  They walked to the kitchen together, where Sally was stirring a pot of oats, and sat down at the table.

  “Good morning Sally,” said Gabby. “Can we have sultanas in our porridge please?”

  “Consider it done,” Sally replied, opening the cupboard.

  Bonnie looked at the cherubic face of her only child across the table, dressed in her pink gown, her hair wild like an exotic bird’s nest, and took a deep breath. She knew that by asking Gabby about the crowd outside, she would be opening a Pandora’s box that would probably never be closed. Up until now, Gabby had only offered snippets of information about the post-civilisation world as issues arose, and nobody in the house pressed the girl, because they were desperate for her to have a childhood that was as normal as possible. Now, though, with a crowd building outside, and Matt, Dylan and Montana missing, it was important that they try to develop some kind of understanding about what was happening, even if it was upsetting to talk about. Sally placed a bowl of steaming porridge down on the table, then sat and waited anxiously for Bonnie to begin the discussion.

  “Gabby honey, some more people are outside the farm this morning.”

  “Aha,” she replied through a mouthful of milky oats.

  “Did you know they were coming?”

  “Um, sort of.”

  “What do you mean sort of?”

  “Um, I kind of thought they would come, but I can’t know for sure. I know they wanted to, but sometimes they can’t make it.”

  Bonnie and Sally looked at each other; amazed by the matter-of-fact way this little girl spoke about these extraordinary things. Gabby shovelled another spoonful of porridge into her mouth.

  “Why can’t they make it sometimes, honey?”

  Gabby raised her face from the bowl, and looked at her mother with a puzzled frown. “I’m not sure. I think someone stops them sometimes.”

  “Feeders?”

  “Not always. In some places I think there are bad people.”

  Gabby’s demeanour had changed slightly, as the questions became a little more confronting, so she changed the subject. “Gabby, what about the people outside the fence? Why are they here?”

  “That’s easy,” she replied. “They’re scared.”

  “Scared of what?”

  “You’re asking a lot of questions mummy. Can I go and play now?”

  “No sweetie, not just yet. I know these questions aren’t fun, but mummy needs you to answer them, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, obviously bored with the whole discussion.

  “Okay, sweetie, I want you to tell me why these people are coming to us? Why don’t they go somewhere else?”

  “Oh, they feel safe here.”

  “But why?”

  Gabby pushed a stray sultana around with her spoon. “Because I’m here.”

  Bonnie glanced at Sally. This meant that the situation was escalating quickly. If people sensed that Gabby was their salvation, they would just keep coming. The farm would turn into a refugee camp, and they would end up being trapped, with all their freedom taken away as a cult built around Gabby. God, she wished the others were here to tell her what to do!

  “Gabby, honey I need to ask you something else, but I don’t want you to be scared okay?”

  “Okay mummy.”

  “Do you think those people outside the fence would ever hurt us?”

  Gabby looked at Sally and Bonnie in turn, as her brow furrowed. It was obvious that this was a question she would prefer not to answer. Bonnie encouraged her with a smile, “It’s all right sweetheart. Just tell us what you think. Whatever you say, we won’t mind. Are we safe from those people?”

  “Well, I think so,” she answered, hesitantly. “But there are others that want to hurt us. It’s safer somewhere else.”

  “Where sweetie? Where is it safer?”

  “A long way away. I don’t know what its name is, but lots of people are going there. Not bad people - just good ones, like us. I think it’s somewhere shiny. Like glass.”

  “What do you mean shiny, like a lake?”

  “Mmm. I don’t know mummy, just glassy.”

  “Okay sweetie, that’s enough questions. Let’s go and get you dressed.”

  Later, while Gabby was playing in her room, Bonnie and Sally sat in the lounge room and tried to analyse this new information, as the crowd continued their vigil outside.

  “I don’t want to be an alarmist,” Bonnie said, “But what happens if Matt and the others don’t come back?”

  “Oh my god, I can’t even think about it. I’m scared. What are we going to do?”

  “Look, there’s no point panicking just yet, but we have to consider our options. If we stay here, we’ll end up trapped by that mob. Shit, we may be already, who knows? I think that if the others don’t come back soon, we should think about leaving and head west. I think that’s what Gabby was talking about, when she said “shiny”.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think she must have meant Diamond Creek. You know, like glass. Diamond. Remember when Bill said there was a big community building up out there?”

  “Wow. Yes, that makes sense. Do you think we’ll be safe there? Bill could have been lying about that you know. We might be better off staying here. We haven’t had any real trouble yet have we?”

  “No we haven’t. But if this crowd keeps building, there won’t be enough resources to go around even if they’re friendly. I think we need to consider an escape plan.”

  “You’re right I suppose, but can we wait a few more days for the others to come home?”

  “Absolu
tely. We just have to be ready for anything, that’s all. There is one other thing I need to do, though.”

  “What’s that?” asked Sally.

  “I need to go down to the fence and speak to those people.”

  -

  Montana was being marched through the corridors by Scarface and two armed guards, on her way to see the boys for perhaps the last time. Balled up in her hand was the note she had written the night before. She knew that it was getting damp from her sweaty palms, but there was nothing she could do about that. She needed Matt or Dylan to read the note for the plan to succeed, but there was a huge risk involved in getting it to them. If Scarface caught her, her punishment would be swift and merciless, and the boys would die. The plan she had devised was clumsy and unlikely to succeed, but it was the only thing she had been able to come up with. As she went over each part of the scheme in her mind, she could only see ways it could fail, but despite that, she knew there was no option but to try and carry it through. She did have one slight advantage, though, and that was the likelihood that The Doctor and his legion of marauders would underestimate her. Their complacency about their own strength and power might just become the instrument of their downfall.

  The guard in front of Montana stopped at a large steel door, which she recognised as the the school’s computer room. It was a perfect prison - the bars on the windows and the door would stop all but the most determined burglars. Inwardly, she smiled - this fitted in with her plan perfectly. Scarface took Montana by the arm as the guard opened the door.

  “I’ll give you three minutes with your friends and the door will stay open. If you or anybody in that room tries anything, you will all be shot. Is that clear?”

  “Yes. That’s clear.”

  As one guard inserted his key into the lock, the second trained his gun at the door. Montana hoped that Matt or Dylan wouldn’t attempt anything foolish when the door opened, because they would certainly be killed. As the big door creaked open, Montana was almost beside herself with fear. She knew that getting the note into the hand of one the boys would be a critical moment in the execution of her scheme. If The Doctor or one of the guards caught her, it would be over immediately, and they would never leave the school alive.

  The guards stepped into the room with their guns raised and ordered the prisoners to their feet. A nod to The Doctor indicated that everything was in order, and that Montana could now enter room.

  “Remember,” said The Doctor. “Three minutes, and the guards will be watching.”

  She nodded and entered the room. Matt and Dylan saw her, and rushed over and hugged her, as the guards watched. She clung to the boys fiercely, the note nestled safely in her clenched fist.

  “Oh my god, I’m so scared,” she whispered as they embraced. “I didn’t know if I’d see you again. Are you okay?”

  “We’re okay for now, how are you?” asked Matt. “Are they mistreating you? I’ll kill them if they are!”

  “No, settle down. I’m okay.”

  She broke away from the embrace and looked at the boys. Dark rings under their eyes suggested that they hadn’t slept very well last night and Matt had an ugly purple bruise on the side of his face.

  “Those bastards!” she exclaimed, as her left hand gently stroked his cheek, as her right hand moved down to grasp Matt’s left hand.

  This was the moment that would count. If Matt’s face gave anything away as she passed the note to him, she would be taken away, and the opportunity would be gone. She forced open his fingers as she continued their conversation, and tried to force the balled-up piece of his paper into his palm secretly. At first Matt just grabbed Montana’s hand and she almost dropped the note to the floor, but then she saw the expression on his face change ever so slightly, as he understood what was happening. She felt him take the note.

  “Time’s up,” one of the guards announced, to Montana’s surprise.

  “That wasn’t three minutes!” she protested, turning to The Doctor, who was smiling cruelly at the three friends.

  “Time’s up,” he confirmed, turning to the guards. “Get her out of here.”

  -

  After Montana had been dragged from the room, the five other captives, returned sullenly to their spots on the floor as Matt and Dylan stared at each other.

  “What was that about?” Dylan asked. “How did she get him to allow a visit?”

  “I don’t know, but she passed me this,” he said, holding out the tightly folded note in his hand, as if it were a fragile butterfly.

  Dylan immediately forced Matt’s hand closed and led him as far from the other prisoners as he could.

  “Shit Matt!” he whispered, “Let’s just keep this to ourselves until we know what it says. Knowledge is power. I don’t trust anyone in here.”

  Matt looked over at the five people slumped against the wall. To him they looked as if they were already dead. He couldn’t imagine how they could be a threat, but he took Dylan’s advice anyway and stuffed the note into his pocket, planning to read it later, when it would be less obvious. He walked over to the window and peered through the bars at the football field that had already reverted to an overgrown meadow. What was in the note? Was it one last declaration of love from Montana, or did it hold information that they could use to save themselves? Later when the time was right, he would read it and find out.

  -

  For Montana, the rest of the day was spent in the company of The Doctor, who was relishing the chance to crow about his achievements and authority. He gave her a guided tour of the town in a limousine chauffeured by one of his henchman, under escort by another armed guard on a motorcycle. As they rolled imperiously through the streets of her hometown, The Doctor was happy to answer most questions, taking a perverse pride in the changes that had occurred since the event.

  “Where are all the dead bodies?” asked Montana, at one point in the tour.

  “I had teams take them out of town in trucks and burn them. No point surviving the feeders only to be brought undone by pestilence, is there?” he offered.

  Another time, Montana noticed two cars full of survivors, driving slowly through the town as they headed west. She could see the faces of the travellers as they peered incredulously at the limo. It was obvious, too, from their expressions that they sensed something very wrong in Carswell, and desired to keep moving. Montana was puzzled.

  “Why do you let some through and not others?” she asked.

  “That’s an excellent question, Montana, but it’s difficult to answer. I’ll try though. Firstly, today is Sunday. We don’t take prisoners on Sunday. Why? I don’t really know. Maybe it’s just a nod to our civilised past - a day of rest, if you like. The main reason we allow survivors through, though, is because I believe we’ll be catching up with them soon enough and it will make for more witnesses when we find the girl and destroy her. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my little army are getting quite impatient with all this waiting, and are very keen to begin the battle. It’s like an energy that’s building inside them. We have the numbers, so it’s just a matter now of waiting for the psychs to choose the right day. It won’t be long, that’s for sure. Once the girl’s out of the picture, the darker forces will be able to gather in numbers, and the world can be reborn. It’s very exciting, wouldn’t you say?”

  Montana stared blankly out of the window. “Very exciting,” she muttered bleakly.

  -

  It was almost an hour after Montana’s visit when Matt and Dylan had an opportunity to read the note in private. The other captors were all dozing on the floor, so Matt crept over to Dylan and sat down beside him on the filthy carpet. He took the note out of his pocket and unfolded it as if it was the word of God itself. He flattened the piece of paper out on his thigh so that he and Dylan could read together. When they’d finished, Matt ripped it up and took it over to one of the buckets that they had been using as toilets and dropped the pieces in. He returned and slumped down on the floor next to Dylan. He looked
as his friend, with a face full of sorrow.

  “It’s a suicide mission,” he stated, as his eyes filled with tears.