The Warning

by Patterson, James

  “Could be worse,” she said. “Could be raining.”

  I couldn’t remember ever seeing the sunrise without having slept first. The road hummed, and I felt myself drifting off. Wait … I didn’t want to dream about the scientist again. I tried to will my eyes back open, but they no longer would obey. They were done, and so was I.

  CHAPTER 28

  Maggie

  NOT LONG AFTER I pulled away from our house and heard enough of Jordan’s ramblings about the monster scientist with the sword that sprang out of his arm, I audibled, as Jordan would say. Mount Hope isn’t huge, but it’s spread out across many acres of farmland, and trying to find my mom among the farms could be frustrating and ultimately futile. And what would she do when we found her? She couldn’t treat Jordan at the spot; we’d still have to come home—and that was assuming she wasn’t in the middle of some precarious situation involving dangerous animals.

  No, Jordan needed immediate help. He needed to get to the hospital.

  I reached the roadblock sooner than expected. The sky was beginning to glow, though the sun hadn’t peeked out yet. An olive-green truck blocked the left lane, and a plastic red-and-white barricade stretched across the right. Beyond the truck, I could see what looked like a major operation: civilian tractor-trailers being unloaded and their contents getting stacked and moved by several forklifts.

  Six riflemen milled around the roadblock, and one held up his hand as we rolled toward it. I stopped, and he walked up to my window.

  “The road is closed,” he said. His rifle hung over his shoulder and neck, and on his upper arm was a black band with the white letters MP for military police. He looked to be about nineteen, skinny, pale, with a wheat-colored caterpillar mustache no doubt intended to compensate for his baby face, though it just made him look like he was playing dress-up.

  “I’ve got to get my friend to the hospital,” I insisted, nodding toward my sleeping, bandaged companion. I sent out a silent prayer that he wouldn’t wake up and freak out upon seeing more military personnel.

  “The hospital is inaccessible right now,” the rifleman said blankly. “The road is under construction.”

  “Can you take him, then?” I asked. “He’s been cut bad, and infection has set in.”

  He was shaking his head before I’d even finished my sentence. “You can get antibiotics at the pharmacy in town, and there’s a veterinarian in town that could give him stitches.”

  “That veterinarian is my mother, so, no, he needs more than that,” I said, getting heated. “I know people who went to the army hospital two days ago, and—”

  “They were flown by helicopter.”

  “Okay, he’ll take a helicopter, then.”

  The rifleman said nothing.

  “Explain this to me,” I said, feeling my cheeks flush. “There’s no contamination from the power plant. That’s what we’ve all been told repeatedly. No radiation, no nothing. So why are we still quarantined?”

  “This is not a quarantine,” he said. “Just maintenance.”

  “Then why are we trapped in this town and not even able to get out for a medical emergency? You know the bridge on the other side of town is out, and now you’re not letting me pass here. Whose decision was it to block us in like this?”

  “I assure you this road is in need of repair,” he said as if bored. “Now, please turn around and head back to town. I’m sure your friend will be all right soon.”

  Now this guy was pissing me off. “On what basis are you making that diagnosis? Where did you get your medical training? He’s been stabbed. Do you usually recommend Tylenol or ibuprofen for that?”

  The soldier scrunched up his face like Tom in a Tom and Jerry cartoon after Jerry has made him hit himself in the face with a frying pan. “If he was stabbed, then this is a matter for the police.”

  “Yeah? Well, what does the ‘P’ on your insignia stand for? Pus—?”

  “That’s not our jurisdiction, ma’am,” he said, cutting me off before I got into real trouble.

  “‘Ma’am?’ I’m sixteen! So tell me, sir, which police officers can stitch up stab wounds, since you, with all your professed medical expertise, cannot?”

  “Look, young lady, I’m not appreciating your tone here, and I must return to my duties. Have a good evening.”

  “Morning.”

  He started to step away, shook his head, and returned.

  “How did he get stabbed?”

  “I don’t know! He’s not coherent!” I burst out, jolting Jordan awake.

  “Wha’ …?” Jordan said in a daze.

  “It’s nothing,” I whispered to him, patting his chest and putting the displaced cloth back over his eyes. “Go back to sleep.” I felt him relax again.

  “The police in town are all trained in first aid,” the soldier said. “And that’s where I’m going to have to send you now. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Good luck with your friend.” He walked away.

  “And if I needed to get to the giant military hospital that’s just up the road?” I called out the window.

  “The road is impassable,” he said over his shoulder, not breaking stride.

  As I watched him return to his soldier buddies, no doubt telling them all about the pain-in-the-ass girl he just encountered, I made little pew pew sounds with my mouth. That was me shooting them all with laser guns.

  “This,” I said, “is bullshit.” And I jammed the car into gear, slammed my foot down on the gas, and, for the first and probably last time in my life, made my tires squeal as I peeled the hell out of there. There was a little room on the left shoulder, where the embankment was relatively level, so I gunned it around the truck, prompting my new soldier friend and his pals to scatter as I passed them.

  “Hey!” I heard as I veered back onto the road and floored it.

  I weaved through the semis and more army trucks parked on the road and in the shoulder, and I braced myself for gunshots. Any second now, the rear window would shatter—that’s what happened in such situations, right? But, no, I heard and saw nothing behind me, and the road ahead was clear as I sped into the early-morning mist.

  How far ahead was the sick camp? I didn’t know, but it couldn’t be that far. Jordan had talked about how long the drive back took, but he’d been part of a bumper-to-bumper convoy. We were passing more farmland before the dense forest would close in, followed by fields and more forest. The camp would be set up in one of the clearings.

  I zipped ahead in the right lane, occasionally passing more semis, pallets of boxes, crates, and forklifts that sat in the left lane. What they were doing there, I had no idea.

  It was clear, though, that supplies from the outside world were coming in just fine. Materials apparently were being unloaded from commercial trucks and placed onto military trucks before they were brought into town—so outside truck drivers weren’t allowed to go in and out of Mount Hope, just the army.

  I glanced to my right, and Jordan had removed the cloth from his face and was squinting out the windshield.

  “How’re you doing, Jordan?” I asked.

  “Tanned, rested, and ready,” he said. “What’s up with the road trip?”

  I placed the backs of my fingers against his cheek—still warm but no longer blazing.

  “I don’t believe them,” I said. “I don’t believe there’s any problem with this road. Now we’re going to find out.”

  “Huh,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I heard there are roadblocks.”

  “Taken care of.”

  Jordan gave me a look that straddled puzzled and impressed. “Okay, then,” he said.

  I cruised along the open road for another few minutes with nothing but nature on either side of the road.

  “It’s all because of the plant,” Jordan said. “They’re hiding whatever’s going on there.”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “Well, I’m glad you acknowledge at least that.”

  “Jordan, I acknowledge that a lot of funny busine
ss is going on. And I think it’s crazy that no one knows anything about it. Where are the reporters? We had TV crews and newspaper folks at the camp right after we got evacuated. Mom was on CNN. Eventually they moved on to other stories, but we got our fifteen minutes. Wouldn’t they want to swing back and see how we’re doing in the aftermath of our meltdown?”

  “‘Explosive incident.’”

  “Whatever. Isn’t what’s going on now newsworthy?”

  “Maybe they tried and weren’t allowed in.”

  “Right,” I said, and turned off the headlights, which were no longer needed. “I still don’t believe you about the crazed scientist with his sword arm, by the way.”

  “Then why are you blowing past army roadblocks?”

  “I do believe in those stab wounds and that infection and that fever. I care about you.”

  Jordan smiled and leaned back. “I appreciate that,” he said, “though it’s kind of bitchy for you not to believe me. I’ve never lied to you.”

  That word “bitchy” felt like a slap. “Dude, I’m all in with you right now, so don’t give me crap. Do you even believe everything you’ve told me? One hundred percent?”

  He paused. “Well, I know what I experienced, but there might be some wiggle room. Like two percent.”

  “There you go. Look, I also think they’re lying to us about the radiation—I’ve got a lump that keeps reminding me of that, and it’s got me petrified. So for the good of everyone, it’s time to follow your lead on the football field and switch from defense to offense.”

  We were driving through the woods now, with sunlight rays diffused by the branches making funky patterns on the road.

  “I hear what you’re saying about the radiation,” Jordan said, “but the workers at the power plant don’t seem to be dying, and they would’ve been exposed to the most radiation. I’ve only seen my dad once since we got back to town, and he’s fine.”

  “Aside from his personality being totally altered.”

  “Well, yeah, there’s that.”

  I sped around a curve and suddenly was blinded by a blast of brilliant white lights. I slammed on the brakes and shielded my eyes.

  “Get out of the vehicle with your hands up!” came a voice through a bullhorn.

  Four large banks of floodlights, the kind used on construction sites, were directed at the car, and I could see nothing beyond their glare.

  “This is your final warning,” the bullhorn announced. “Exit now, or we will shoot.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Maggie

  THE LIGHTS WERE too bright for me to see whether guns actually had been drawn on us. I’d never had a gun pointed at me, at least as far as I knew. I didn’t think they’d actually shoot us, but still, this was terrifying. And infuriating.

  It was just another day at the office for the soldiers, though. They dismissed us like we were meddling brats from Scooby-Doo, even as I shot them looks that, if they could kill, would have landed me in the clink. Jordan and I were ordered into a Jeep back seat, and two soldiers took us to my house while another pair drove back the Malibu.

  Mom answered the door with deep rings under her eyes. She’d been out for so much of the night and no doubt hadn’t expected to return to an empty house with the car missing. Her expression now combined relief with deep irritation.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” she said. I loved that she still used phrases like “for goodness’ sake.”

  I hadn’t actually calmed down—I didn’t appreciate being treated like a toddler getting plopped back into a Pack ’n Play—but as I opened my mouth, the lieutenant, a doppelganger for Louis Gossett Jr. in An Officer and a Gentleman (which Jordan had chosen for us to watch a while back—maybe he thought he’d sweep me off my feet like I was Debra Winger, though I thought Richard Gere was kind of smarmy), stepped forward and asked, “Is this your child?”

  “I am not a—” I started, but Mom put up her hand to silence me.

  “Yes, officer, thank you,” she said.

  “These kids bypassed the checkpoint at the edge of town, and we were forced to intercept them. Your daughter said they needed to get to the military hospital, and we informed her that it had been closed down since the evacuation was terminated.”

  Mom took in Jordan and all his blood and bandages.

  “Why did you need to go to a hospital?” she asked.

  “Our medic evaluated him—he needs a few stitches and antibiotics,” the lieutenant said. “He’ll be fine in your care.”

  “Mom,” I said, “Jordan was stabbed and is infected, with a fever close to 104. That’s why he needed the hospital—but they’re not letting anyone leave. They threatened to shoot us.”

  “No arms were drawn, ma’am,” the lieutenant said.

  Mom glared at me. “We already knew the road was closed,” she snapped. “Now get in the house before you get into more trouble.”

  As Jordan and I passed her in the doorway, she said to the officer, “I’m sorry. They’re good kids, usually.”

  “That’s all right,” he said. “No harm done. And here are the keys to her car.” He looked beyond her to Jordan, standing with me just inside the door. “There’s no reason to try to leave again, son. No one is looking for you. We know where to find you when we need you.”

  Jordan nodded back at the lieutenant and said nothing.

  “Ask him how come—” I called out to my mom, but she cut me off.

  “Thank you, sir. I appreciate you returning my daughter and her friend safely. I’ve got it from here, and there will be no more trouble, I promise you.”

  “I appreciate that,” he said, bowing his head and taking his leave.

  “In the back. Now,” Mom said, closing the door and leading us into the exam room where I’d dressed Jordan’s wounds in the first place. She slapped her palm twice atop the metal table, and Jordan hopped his butt up there.

  “He might go septic,” I said. “I used my best judgment.”

  She said nothing, unwrapping the bandages. If steam had started to come out of her ears at that point, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

  “There are two wounds, his wrist and calf,” I said.

  “I can see that,” Mom said.

  “I did what I could. The one in his leg is deep.”

  Mom looked up at Jordan. “You were stabbed?”

  “Yes,” he said. “With a sword.”

  “He says it came out of a skull-faced scientist’s stump arm,” I said. “Jordan was delirious, feverish, not making sense.”

  Jordan flashed his disarming smile. “Maggie and I have agreed to disagree about my account of tonight’s events.”

  Kneeling beside him, Mom gently peeled back the tape that held the gauze on his arm. “This one isn’t bad,” she said, putting the bandage on his wrist back into place. “Nice job, honey.”

  I appreciated the compliment, though she still wasn’t looking at me.

  “Now let’s look at that leg,” she continued, ordering Jordan to lie flat on the table, at least as much of him as would fit.

  “He said he was attacked with a sword at the power plant,” I said.

  “What were you doing there?” she asked Jordan.

  “Trying to see my dad.”

  “In the middle of the night?”

  “Hey,” I said, “did you hear the part about the sword?”

  “I’m looking at it right now, hon,” she said. She probed it gently with a small instrument and dabbed it with an antiseptic wipe. “Well,” she said in her most professional tone, “I’ve never treated a sword wound before, but you’re right, this one is infected. And old. How long ago did it happen?”

  “About midnight,” Jordan said, flinching when Mom poked the red, swollen skin around the cut.

  “He said he walked all the way back from the plant and got here around four in the morning.”

  Mom stood up. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. You should have called someone for help, though.”

  “That’
s why we tried the army hospital.”

  “Next time try the police.” She placed her hand on Jordan’s forehead. “And I’ll remember to leave you a note where I’m going next time. But come on, running a roadblock?”

  I told her everything that had happened, with Jordan adding a few details here and there, though he was fuzzy on much of it.

  “I told you we couldn’t trust the army,” he said.

  “Well, they got you home safely,” Mom pointed out.

  “Yeah, and they know where to find me when they need me.”

  I turned to Mom. “Did I mention that Jordan said he shot the guy who stabbed him with his sword arm?”

  “You shot someone?” she asked Jordan.

  “Three times in the chest. But I don’t think I killed him.”

  “Why did you have a gun?”

  “There’d been a scuffle.”

  Mom gave me a look. She didn’t believe what she was hearing, either.

  “Hang on a minute,” she said, and went into another room, returning with a small tray of supplies. She got to work on Jordan’s leg.

  “You’re lucky,” she said. “The knife—sword—went in vertically, not horizontally, with the grain, if you want to think of it that way. It should heal pretty cleanly, though I doubt you’ll be playing football for a couple weeks.”

  Jordan nodded. “Great.”

  “This is going to sting a little,” Mom said as she shoved an alcohol-soaked piece of gauze deep into the blood- and dirt-flecked wound.

  Jordan howled. “Hey, let me know when something’s going to sting a lot,” he said.

  Mom smiled. Sometimes I think doctors get off on that whole “sting a little” thing.

  I ran my fingers through Jordan’s tight curls, noticing the spidery scars on his scalp. This guy had been through a lot. I wanted to kiss the top of his head but still felt too self-conscious in front of my mom.

  “I know you two don’t believe me, but the scientist told me things,” Jordan said. “They experimented on me, made me into some kind of superhuman. He said the Carters’ fire was meant to be a test of my skills.”

  “What?” I asked. I hadn’t heard this.