“You have a dirty mind,” said Choony, knowing full well that the innuendo wasn’t what she’d meant. It had the desired effect: she flashed that brilliant smile of hers and threw his pillow back at him.
“We’re not far from Lebanon,” she said thoughtfully once the shared laughter had subsided. “Maybe we should go there, then on the way back, pick up the gasifier and leave the radio. We could just go there on horseback. Faster and safer, yeah?”
“I’ll ask if we can go to Lebanon when we check in with Ethan on the radio.” He doubted Cassy would allow it, given how badly she wanted that gasifier from Falconry, and in any case Clanholme was buffered from Lebanon by distance, the Falconry, the forest, and Brickerville. Choony would have agreed with Cassy, but Jaz would go anyway if she really wanted to. Choony would never let a Clanner make that ride alone, especially a trouble magnet like Jaz, so he’d likely be going with her despite his reservations if that’s where her path took her.
Jaz rolled her eyes melodramatically. “Well, duh. So get on the radio, dummy.”
Choony went over to the small wooden chest on the room’s only other furniture, a chrome-and-glass desk that probably came from Wally World, and opened it, exposing their mid-range radio. The extra reception range wasn’t needed from here but the longer broadcast range made the radio’s additional weight worth it, especially as they had traveled by wagon. It really was amazing how much weight a horse could pull compared to carrying it on their backs.
He set the antenna on the balcony and ran the connecting cable to the radio box, then plugged in the microphone and the headset. He turned the tuning dial—they never left it on the band the scouts used, so that if the radio were seized or stolen, whoever took it would not simply overhear the Clan’s communications.
“Charlie One, Charlie One. This is Sam One, over.”
Choony had to try a couple more times before he got a response. A sleepy sounding voice, not Ethan’s, replied. “Sam One, this is Charlie Two. Nice weather we’re having, eh?”
Choony answered the challenge code. “Charlie Two, at least it’s not a hurricane.”
“Sam One, go for traffic.”
“Charlie Two, copy that. We’re visiting Aunt Florence,” Choony said, using the code name for the Falconry, “and I’m happy to report that she let us have one of her horses. She wants us to bring her a few things, and then she’ll give us another horse.”
The Clansman acknowledged their mission success in acquiring a gasifier—the “horse”—but Choony wasn’t done yet. “Charlie Two, Aunt Florence has said that while we’re in the area, we should talk to Aunt Lisa on November 6th”—the date was code for six miles north—“before coming home. She also asked if we could leave our radio here, and we’d like to oblige since she was more than generous to give us a spare horse. We need to know if we can be late for curfew to visit Aunt Lisa”—Camp Lebanon, that is—“and if Aunt Florence can borrow our radio in the meantime.”
The code they used swapped out the direction with the name of a month and the date for the approximate distance in miles only when dealing with north and south. East and west simply got swapped with each other to confuse anyone listening. Choony thought it stupid to use a different system for north and south than for east and west, but so far no one had paid attention to his suggestion that they simply use animal names for each of the four directions. Anything consistent would be better than the current system.
“Sam One, this is Charlie Two. Mom says that’s fine, except that you need to keep the radio with you until you come back through to pick up Aunt Florence’s horse. How long until you get home?”
“Charlie Two, probably two or three days. If we’re not back after that, we ran away to Spain. Please confirm, we aren’t to leave our radio here while we visit Aunt Lisa?”
“Copy that, Sam One. Mom says it’s a safety issue, and says she’ll blister your butt if you leave it behind, until after you’ve seen Aunt Lisa. Be safe, hope to see you in a few days. Charlie Two out.”
Choony took off the headset and turned to look at Jaz. “So, we got permission to leave the radio on our way back through here and to go looking for the survivor group in Lebanon that Delorse told us about, but we have to bring the radio with us when we go north. We can leave it behind when we come back through for the gasifier. We’ll have to figure out how to get that thing securely onto a horse without hurting the animal.”
Jaz yawned and stretched her arms over her head, and Choony for a second was caught by the sight of her. She looked beautiful like that. She always looked beautiful, but for a second she had looked like a model or maybe a tasteful, stunningly beautiful pin-up. When he realized he was staring, he quickly glanced away, flustered and hoping she hadn’t noticed.
She glanced over at him, smiling. “Well, it’s getting late. What do you say we crash, Choon Choon? We’ll figure this crap out in the morning.”
“You go ahead. I’m going to meditate for a while, maybe a half hour, before I go to sleep. I need to recharge my batteries.”
Jaz was faintly snoring like a cute little hibernating grizzly cub in just moments, and Choony went about the process of centering his mind and energy so that he could slip into a meditative state. He’d learned long ago that if he took the time to prepare himself before beginning, he only needed to sleep four or five hours to wake completely refreshed and rested the next morning.
- 7 -
1100 HOURS - ZERO DAY +147
THE GATES OF Lebanon, Pennsylvania rose up before them. Still a half mile away, Jaz looked through their binoculars and let out a long, low whistle. “You won’t believe this shit, dude.” She spoke more to herself than to Choony, talking aloud out of habit.
“What is it that you see?” Choony’s response sounded distracted, only half-interested.
As she looked through the binoculars, she imagined the man next to her in his usual pose, sitting properly upright with perfect posture… Ha. Properly perfect posture. How silly. She stifled a giggle. “Okay, the whole town is walled up with rubble, cars, telephone poles—anything they could move under manpower, it looks like. There’s two grain silos facing each other across the road, but I got no idea how they moved those monsters to there. They gotta be thirty feet high! And they got an honest-to-god drawbridge. Can you believe it? It’s like something out of Thunderdome, but without the totally sick battle cars.”
Choony grunted, letting her know he’d heard. He was supercool like that, always listening. A good listener, and a good friend. She hoped the locals wouldn’t be total bigots or something—Choony didn’t need that kind of grief.
The wagon rolled on, meandering toward the walled town. Once they got closer, Jaz could make out the scene in more detail. The towers weren’t actually grain silos, she saw, but earthbag towers, like what Cassy had made her house out of but without the mud “plaster.” Only the roofs were from grain silos, and they reminded her of upside-down funnels.
The drawbridge consisted of tons of steel plates welded together to make bigger sheets, with thick wooden beams between the front and back sheets. Two chains went from the corners up through slots in the towers, probably to open or close the thing. It was currently closed, probably how they normally kept it.
When they were maybe one hundred yards away, arrows flew from both towers, one from each, and thunked into the dirt a few yards in front of them.
“That’s stupid,” she muttered to Choony. “Why wouldn’t they wait ’til we were closer to shoot at us with arrows? And arrows… like, really? Honest-to-god arrows. Whaaaaat?” she said, the last word drawn out at a high pitch. She’d seen that in a movie once and took to it.
Choony drew on the reins, and the horses drew to a halt. “We should just wait here until they send someone out, or until they shoot at us with something more dangerous.”
Jaz slid her rifle into her saddle holster. “Prolly best not to look all threatening, and I hope you’re right that they won’t just shoot us and take our stuff. That
would totally suck.”
“We either take our chances, and then figure out how to resolve the issue between them and the Falconry, or we kiss the Clan’s trade deal goodbye. I’m just glad they will allow us to pick up the first gasifier on our way back, or these people here might be a lot more inclined to do as you suggested—kill us and take our possessions, or our horses and supplies.”
“It really wasn’t a suggestion,” Jaz said, laughing. “More like a concern.” Choony always had a way of saying funny things and didn’t seem to notice he’d done so. That only made it funnier. It was good to have a friend who could make her laugh. There hadn’t been a lot of that in her life even before the invasion. But now was not the time to start thinking again about whether friendship was all there was to their interactions. “I hope they hurry up and figure out whether to kill us or talk to us. I hate waiting.”
Choony shrugged. “Waiting is part of life. Embrace it, and use the time for something productive. They’ll come out when they’re ready.”
“More productive. Maybe contemplate my navel and hum ‘ommmm’ or something?”
“Jaz, you are a brat. But I like that part of you. It makes waiting less tedious and a smile come easily. My mother said smiling fluffs the liver so life weighs less.”
Jaz laughed and glanced over at him, her eyes sparkling. Then they heard a faint, deep rumbling sound, and the massive gate began to open. The operation took a full minute to complete.
Choony climbed off his horse. “I wonder how long it takes to close that thing in an emergency.” He then stepped a few paces away from his horse. “You should get down, too, so they don’t think we’re a risk of flight.”
“Yeah? What if we want to flee, did you think about that?” Jaz got off her horse though and stepped away from it. She didn’t want to, but she would totally never leave Choon Choon to die alone. It wasn’t the Clan way—and that was a big part of what she loved about her new people. She’d never been a part of any group, just an outsider hanging with this clique or that, usually hated by the girls and lusted after by the guys.
Movement at the gate pulled Jaz back to reality. Five people on horseback, each with a rifle or maybe a shotgun, clip-clopped across the bridge and approached at an easy pace. They spread out, keeping quite a distance between them. They’d probably circle around to block escape—that’s what Jaz would have done. And she was right. As the middle figure stopped about twenty feet away, the other four kept moving to either side until they had surrounded her and Choony, like the points on a star.
Jaz said nothing, waiting for them to speak first, and Choony didn’t say anything either. Jaz had learned from a book she’d read—Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion by Robert Cialdini—that whoever spoke last had the advantage. She didn’t have to wait long.
The figure in front of them stared at the two Clanners for an awkwardly long moment, definitely sizing them up, then said, “You don’t look like raiders. State your names and what business you have in Lebanon.”
Choony said, “Thank you for meeting with us. I’m Choony and this is Jaz. We are envoys from Clanholme, to the south on the other side of the forest behind us.”
“Choony, huh? You look like one of the invaders, but you don’t sound like one. Where are you from?”
“If it pleases you, I am from Scranton originally. I’ve been with the Clan since they took me in, shortly after they settled at Clanholme.”
The man eyed Choony, but at last he nodded. “Very well. What is it you want with us? Don’t make me ask you again.”
Jaz watched Choony carefully, sizing up his body language. Calm and at ease, as usual. Cool. “Sir, we’re sent by our leaders to contact other survivor groups and see if there’s interest in trade and mutual protection. An alliance, really. Between the invaders and the raiders, she feels it’s in our best interests to help one another and band together if trouble comes.”
“Official envoys from Clanholme, we welcome you… for now. We will relieve you of your weapons as we enter Lebanon, and you’ll get them back when you leave. This is not negotiable. If you agree, we’ll escort you inside to await a decision by the mayor as to whether or not he can meet with you.”
That was a no-brainer. “My gun’s on the horse. Choony doesn’t carry any weapons because he’s a Buddhist. All that nonviolence stuff. But he’s brave, and he’s a good man.”
“Pacifist. Interesting. Still going to have to pat you down like everyone else.”
One of the men dismounted and Choony, with arms raised, allowed the pat-down. Jaz looked hesitantly at Choony, but decided she had no choice but to allow them to frisk her as well. Soon, it was over and the man nodded at his associate.
“Alright,” the man said. “Looks like we’re all good to go in. Welcome to Lebanon.”
They were led through the gate, and then they got to see how fast the gate could close—there was a whirring noise from both towers, and the gate slammed shut with a deafening noise.
Choony grinned. “Pretty well done,” he said to Jaz, and they continued along. Jaz could hear Choony muttering to himself, still in awe over what she thought was simply a gate. “If I had to guess,” Choony said, voice quiet, “they have a ratchet system inside with weights or counterweights. When the ratchets are released, the gate closes quickly as the weights fall.”
“Wow,” Jaz said, her eyes rolling up slightly.
Choony continued, “The guard then spins a wheel or something to reopen the gate, which at the same time pulls the counterweights back into place to get the system ready for next time, kind of like cocking a crossbow. That’s why it opens so slowly, but closes with a bang. I’d have to see inside to know for sure. It’s an engineering feat, though.”
The guard who had so far done all the talking, a tall, well-built man, turned around and said, “That gate will stop fifty-caliber rounds. And we needed a gate that closed faster than it opened and could be closed by just one person if they had to—engineers come in handy these days.”
Jaz grinned at him, and it was infectious—the man grinned back. Men were always grinning at Jaz, and like so many times before in her life, she was thankful for her good looks. “That’s totally genius. We’ll have to tell our own engineer about this setup, maybe make one for ourselves.”
“You have an engineer also?”
“Our engineer isn’t really an engineer. We call him ‘our redneck engineer’ because he didn’t have any training, but seems to just understand all this mechanical stuff.”
“I see,” said the guard, who nodded and continued. Then he pointed at a tall building that looked like an old manor house. “That’s City Hall. We’ll take you there to talk with our Honorable Mayor Ruben Brutus.”
A couple minutes later, they rode up to the front of the building. Their guide dismounted and tied his horse to the hitching rail there, clearly a new addition to the parking lot. Jaz followed suit, as did Choony and the other four guards in the party, using a clove hitch knot. Frank had once told her that cowboys used that knot to secure their horses for good reason, so she’d taken the time to learn how to do it. She had to admit it was a secure knot, fast to tie and fast and easy to release even if the horse had pulled against it.
The lead guard returned and beckoned for her and Choony to follow him inside. Once they entered, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the lower light level. The place had no skylights, so as they walked deeper into the old building she could see they had hung old-style storm lanterns from the walls, which flickered with even the faintest breeze. The head guard told her and Choony to have a seat and wait.
It took fifteen minutes before a young woman who looked to be about Jaz’s own age came out of one of the back rooms. “If you’ll follow me, the mayor will see you now.”
She led them back, followed by the guards, and held the door open for them. Jaz and Choony went inside while the guards stayed outside. Probably in case of any trouble, but it felt kinda like they were prisoners now if the mayor
decided to keep the two of them there.
Jaz took a deep breath, stepped up to the desk, and held out her hand. “Thank you for seeing us, Mr. Mayor. I’m Jaz and this is my friend and fellow envoy, Choony.”
The mayor, who looked like he was maybe in his mid-thirties, shook her hand and then Choony’s, and smiled. “Please have a seat.”
Jaz and Choony took the offered seats. It felt awesome to get off her feet, and to sit on something softer than a saddle. She glanced around the room, nodding with appreciation. It was decked out with cool furniture and some nice paintings. Jaz let out a low whistle. “I totally love the office. This stuff’s gotta be some of the best loot in town, I bet.”
The mayor stiffened for a moment, eying Jaz, but he must have decided she meant no offense because he only replied, “It’s safer in here than scattered all over town. All the other really valuable things we’ve found, mostly on abandoned property, are in various empty houses for storage and safekeeping.”
Jaz smiled. “Good idea.”
“So tell me, what does the Clan want from Camp Lebanon? We haven’t had any visits from you before, yet now we’re in the middle of winter and here you are.”
Choony raised an eyebrow, and Jaz kinda felt like how Choony looked—the mayor’s directness was surprising for a politician.
Choony confirmed that his thoughts were running along the same lines as hers when he said, “How long have you been the Honorable Mayor of the town? It must have been a big responsibility, getting all this set up and running smoothly.”
“As smoothly as it can. I’ve been the mayor since about a month after the power died. The old mayor tried to keep things together, keep the town running and alive. Unfortunately, when typhus swept through town he lost his wife and daughter to it and killed himself a few days later. I always figured disease would come if the system crashed, but no one had any idea it would happen so fast.”
Dark New World (Book 4): EMP Backdraft Page 11
