by E. A. Darl
“I can handle whatever you dish out. I do not fear you.” Avalon’s chin lifted in defiance and her eyes locked on Trench’s. “Bring your best and your worst. Either way, I am out of here in half an hour.”
Trench grinned in appreciation of her bravado. He ripped aside the privacy curtain, and pushed himself to his feet, to greet the returning gang members. Avalon scrambled to her feet also, anxious to not appear as a supplicant any longer. Her chin lifted in defiance, and her fists clenched. She spied her bike, still leaning against the booth across from her and sighed with relief.
Magnum lurched to a halt in front of them, the permanent glare fixed on her square face. A trickle of blood ran from her split lower lip.
“The coast is clear. Nothing but the usual scum on the street.” She swiped the back of her hand across her lip and grinned. “Nothing like a good fight to start the morning off right.”
The other gang members chuckled and cracked knuckles. Cris sidled up to Trench and ran her arm through his.
Trench grabbed Avalon’s arm, lower this time to avoid the bruised area.
“Avalon is going to be inducted into the Firebrand gang.”
Silence fell while all eyes fell on her. Some were curious, some almost friendly. Magnum’s grin fell, but it was Cris who raised the first objection.
“Why would you let her into the gang? What is she to us?” said Cris.
Trench untangled himself from her grip.
“She is needed, and the decision to induct or not induct is mine alone, as our leader. Do you wish to dispute this, in front of the gang?” His eyes were flat grey green steel.
Cris blushed with anger, eyes flashing.
“No, I will not argue with you. But I do not have to like it.”
“That‘s correct. You don’t. Your personal feelings have nothing to do with who is invited into the gang and who is not, but once inducted, you will protect her as you would any other gang member. Do you have a problem with this?”
Cris shook her head.
“Alright,” he continued. “Let’s get this done. We have work to do. Avalon, follow me.”
Trench headed toward the back of the restaurant and Avalon fell in behind him, keeping her distance from Cris. Magnum fell in beside her and the rest of the gang closed the box.
Magnum leaned over and whispered “I’d watch your back if I were you. Cris doesn’t like you.”
Avalon turned to meet her eyes. Magnum grinned at the look of feigned surprise on Avalon’s face.
“No kidding. I don’t intend to be here long enough for it to matter. The only thing I am interested in, is finding my parents. Nothing else matters to me. This was Trench’s idea, not mine.”
Trench’s broad back shouldered through a pair of swinging doors that opened to reveal the kitchen of Frankie’s Finger Food. The kitchen was currently quiet, with no food prep underway. Trench marched back to the fryers lining the back wall and paused in front of one that had oil bubbling on a low simmer. Beside the fryer was a charcoal grill. He stirred the coals and added a couple more bricks to the grill, then a small splash of oil. The charcoal caught and burned merrily. Trench crouched down and sorted through a cupboard then pulled out what looked like a branding iron. On its tip was a symbol that Avalon knew all too well. It was the Firebrand symbol. Her eyes widened as Trench stood back up, facing her. He shoved the brand into the coals without dropping eye contact.
“Take off your coat and give it to Magnum.”
Avalon hesitated, but shrugged out of the precious jacket, handing it to Magnum.
“Now, give me your left hand,” he said softly.
Avalon’s throat constricted with fear. Silently, she held it out fighting the telltale quiver of fear that ran down her arm. Trench shoved her sleeve up, just as a pair of hands gripped her shoulders and pushed her down, so that her arm rested on the wooden prep board in front of the grill. Panting, she looked away as Trench reached in for the glowing firebrand.
“This is going to hurt, Avalon.”
Before she could say a word, he plunged the burning poker onto her arm. The smell of burning flesh and hair filled the air and Avalon shrieked, her scream echoing off the tiled walls. The excruciating pain overwhelmed her, merging with her exhaustion. The world spun then tunneled smaller and smaller until it faded to black.
Chapter 13
An Unpleasant Truth
Mitch followed Pam down a series of walkways. Their boots clicked on the metal grating, echoing in the vast chamber. The entire facility was empty. Not a person moved in the dimly lit interior. Mitch shivered. The temperature within the bunker was at least twenty degrees cooler than outside, and the contrast was shocking on the skin.
They crossed over to a metal door, set with a security code. Pam punched in a series of numbers and wrenched open the door.
“The pass codes are set to each person’s individual birthday plus one random number of their choosing. I will get you set up in the system in a second.”
The hallway they entered ended in an elevator. The stepped into the box and Pam punched level 2. The doors closed and they descended, the cage rattling and squealing over the rusting pulleys. Mitch grimaced over one especially loud screech.
“We haven’t had time to service the elevators yet. No one who is familiar with this facility has any experience with the elevators, and we can’t pull in someone from the outside. They work, that is what is important.”
“As long as they continue to work,” said Mitch. “Where do you propose we keep the bees?”
“That is where I am taking you.”
The lift doors opened and they stepped out into a room with curved glass windows that overlooked the nuclear station. Old blue grey steel monitoring equipment was set in tidy rows, their displays dark. A thick coat of dust covered every surface.
“This is the original control room for the facility.” Pam led him through the room.
“This is like stepping through a portal into one of the creature feature movies of our youth. I expect to find monsters on the other side of the wall,” said Mitch, with a grin.
“I think you have brought the monsters with you,” said Pam, eyeing his backpack.
“True enough,” said Mitch. The backpacked buzzed angrily in agreement. He could feel the vibrations on his back.
“Here, this is the place.”
Pam paused in front of a door with reinforced glass, with a heavy seal. She opened the door, passing into a narrow hallway that stopped at a secondary door. This door said Emergency Containment. Timed Entry Only, in bold red letters.
“This is the safest place. Come on, let’s release your pets in here. We will set up a feeding station for them. We have been growing hydroponically within the facility. The plants could use some natural pollination. In time we can build a fly tube to the greenhouse. But for now we will bring plants into them. Put the back pack down and let’s get the supplies the bees will need.”
Grateful to be free of the buzzing pack, Mitch set it down on a table where it would not be disturbed, then followed Pam back out into the facility.
Along the way, she found a couple of people stationed in the facility, and commandeered their help in carting plants and water, as well as rigging a temporary bee hive out of screens in wooden frames where the bees could begin building a home for the colony.
Once everything was in place in the containment room, complete with a drip water system and a variety of pots containing flowering plants, Mitch tied a string to the loosened lid of the bee container and unwound it back to the door. With a tug, he pulled the lid off, just before he slammed the door, which cycled into locked mode. The lid fell to the floor in a silent crash and the bees flew out of the container, racing directly at the door, behind which their captors hid. They slammed up against the glass, swarming its surface. When they couldn’t reach Pam and Mitch, they lost interest and headed over to the flowers, settling in to feed off the nectar and familiarizing themselves with their new home.
> Mitch turned around to ask Pam when the door would be unlocked again, and paused at Pam’s ashen face.
“You weren’t joking when you said the bees were killers. They knew exactly where we were. If we had been inside with them loose, we would be dead right now.”
“Yes, the bees are very dangerous. We think they have been altered somehow. We don’t know how or even why, but they are evidence of the government’s crimes. We just need time to be able to study them, and discover the truth. Avalon went to great personal risk to steal them.”
Slowly the colour returned to Pam’s face.
“We need those dammed scientists,” she muttered.
“Peet is in contact with them.”
He settled in beside Pam, matching his stride to hers, working their way back through the control room.
“Do you think we would be allowed to bring them here? I mean, who do we ask for permission? It would go better if we knew that we could invite them to the facility, before we made direct contact.”
“I am the person in charge, and seeing as this may soon be one of the last hospitable places left on this planet, it only makes sense to bring the best and brightest here, to aid in our survival. If they can unlock the secret, they may be able to reverse the damage that is being done, before it’s too late. But I doubt anyone will believe that every crisis on the planet right now is a result of a handful of bees. It is difficult for me to believe, and I am only one person that needs convincing.”
“I know, Pam, but the bees are a place to start. Maybe it’s not the only cause, but it is a major one. I am sure of it.”
“Then bring your scientists, if you can find them. We will keep your pets safe for now. You don’t need to worry about anyone disturbing them. No one will want to get too close to them.”
“Great.” Mitch yawned, his jaw cracking. He raised a hand to the thick stubble on his beard.
“You could use some food and a rest. Whatever else you have planned can wait a day or two. Come on, let’s find the cafeteria and see if there are any leftovers in the fridges there.”
As she lead him through the facility, she described the areas they passed.
“Men’s showers are on the left, Women’s on the right. The left side doors are all sleeping chambers for men, the same on the right for the women. Family quarters are one level below. Laundry facilities are located at the front of the shower facilities. All the water here is recycled. Soaps are made here, from what we grow. The organic compounds are separated during the water reclamation and used as fertilizer for the greenhouses. Nothing goes to waste.”
They entered the cafeteria, which was set with about fifty square tables and metal folding chairs with cracked red vinyl seats. The walls displayed old posters urging the purchase of war bonds, and one showed a list of rubber drive depots, where old tires could be donated.
Behind the serving counter, a fridge hummed. It was white enamel with a rounded top and a large silver handle that pulled down to open it.
“Ok, let’s see what we have in here,” said Pam, pulling on the handle.
Blocks of hard goat cheese, wrapped in brown paper sat on the top shelf beside a pitcher of watered down goat’s milk. Boiled eggs sat in a green plastic bowl and raisins soaked in a second glass bowl, rehydrated to a plump and juicy state.
“Great, let’s eat!” She pulled the items from the fridge and put them on the counter.
Mitch pulled a knife and began slicing cheese and bread. “How did they come by all of this?” he asked as he divided the food between two plates. A couple of eggs and some sweet raisins followed and a cold glass of skinny milk, each.
“They keep goats and chickens in small pens by the tents, and they keep a separate stock here, in case of raids, or deaths due to the drought on the outside. Animals are worth their weight in gold now. Theft is a real problem, even out here in the wilderness. But the goats and the chickens are great scavengers, and nothing goes to waste.” Famished, Pam pulled her plate in front of her, signalling an end to the conversation. They fell to eating and when the plates were cleared and their stomachs content, they both yawned.
“I am going to find an empty room and crash for a few hours,” said Mitch. “I will be leaving when I wake up. I set out to find a place for the bees and I have accomplished that, with your help.” He put his arm around his sister and squeezed. “But now, I need to get back to my police station. We need information and I need to get access to it. Hopefully there isn’t a warrant out for my arrest.”
Pam nodded. “I will have a warrior take you back to the Mustang. He can retrieve my gear too. I need to prepare for the scientist’s arrival, provided they consent to come.”
Mitch pushed to his feet and pulled Pam up beside him. “Thank you for your help. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Pam hugged him and then pushed him away. “Enough of the mushy stuff. I wanna sleep. Come on.”
They placed their dishes in the sink then headed out of the cafeteria.
At the door to the sleeping chambers, Pam paused, frowning.
“One last thing, Mitch. Be careful who you bring back to this facility. You must clear them all. One stray word about what we have here, and the government will be on us like flies on stink. This is still a top secret facility. It must remain so.”
“I will screen them all personally. That is another reason why I need to get back into the good graces of the police department. Each and every person I send here will be as shiny as a bright new penny.”
Pam nodded, and then entered her room.
As the door closed behind her, Mitch couldn’t help but wonder what his reception would be at the police station. I need access to the records there, but first I’d better find out if I am a wanted man, or I might end up in the same cell that held Avalon, not so long ago.
Chapter 14
Undercover Scientist
Dr. Song shuffled back into the living room, carrying two mugs of hot chocolate. Alexa eyed the treat with excitement. Two fat marshmallows bobbed on the top, slowly spreading their creamy gooey goodness across the surface. He placed one on the TV dinner tray he had set up for Alexa, before easing himself into his armchair.
“Now, be careful with that. It’s very hot and I don’t need any other casualties under this roof.”
Alexa nodded and then bent over and stuck her finger on the marshmallow, dunking it under the surface. It bobbed right back up but now it was covered in a slick milk chocolate coloured cream. She stuck her finger in her mouth and licking off the sticky sugar confection.
“Oh! This is so good! I haven’t had a marshmallow since Mama made us...” Her voice trailed away as a bittersweet memory came to mind. Her head dipped down and her hair fell forward, shielding her face.
“Hey now, no crying now. Whatever you are thinking about is in the past. It has no power to hurt you any longer. You are safe, and your hot chocolate is yummy and you have a place to sleep tonight. Now drink up and let’s get you settled for the night.”
Alexa took a sip of her hot chocolate, then put it down and looked over at the still mound of blankets that was Peet. The sun had set and outside the window and all was dark. The light of the lamp by Dr. Song’s chair was the only illumination in the room. Alexa yawned, her eyes drooping.
Dr. Song picked up a note book and pen from the table side and flipped it open to where he had left off. He scribbled down a few sentences, scratched them out, and then tried again. He wrote, absorbed in his creation, sipping his hot chocolate while the cuckoo clocks’ pendulum ticked off the seconds and minutes. When he looked up an hour later to check on Alexa, he found her slumped sideways in the chair, fast asleep. Grabbing a spare blanket, he draped it over the sleeping child then shuffled out of the room and down the hallway to a spare room. He opened the door and entered what looked like a small radio studio, complete with a vintage microphone on a stand and a pair of bulky headphones. He sat down in the office chair, rolling it toward the desk where a stack of old
CD’s sat on top of a CD player, plugged into a mixer. He flipped the switch on the wall to light the room then turned on the short wave transmitter/receiver, stacked in the corner of the desk up against the wall. He had created the numbers station as a way to send coded messages to his listeners, in case the government was listening in.” Only those who knew how and when to listen in would be able to hear and decode the messages sent in plain sight. Sometimes he used altered voices, sometimes a series of sounds, mixed with Morse code. His favorite ones were the nursery rhymes he created. Poetry was a passion of his and the message was locked deep within the verse. It eased an itch for both secrecy and art.
A quick glance at the bird clock on the wall confirmed that it was 9:15 p.m. and time to begin his broadcast. He turned on the mixer, queued the CD player, pulled several pages of poetry from his pocket and laid them flat on the desk. Dr. Song donned the headphones and pressed the black button on the base of the microphone, then fed the words to the night sky. He read aloud for fifteen minutes, flinging his message to a specific audience that only he knew about. He repeated the message three more times, and then shut the mic off just before 10:00 p.m. He pulled the headphones off and swiveled around in his chair and jumped at the sight of Alexa standing in the open doorway.
“My child, come in. You startled me.”
Alexa came into the room, rubbing her eyes.
“That was a strange nursery rhyme. What did it mean? Was it a secret message?”
“Yes, I was sending news to my friends in a way that only they would understand.”
“A secret code!” Alexa’s eyes lit with excitement. “That is so cool! Will you teach it to me? I want to be a spy when I grow up!”
Dr. Song chuckled. “I might teach it to you. Let me consider the request while you sleep. Secrets can be dangerous and I don’t know if it is wise to teach you this.”
As she opened her mouth to object, he held up his hand to stop her words.
“I will consider it, but for now it’s time for rest.”
