“Guys?” she said, startling them.
“No one will trade with us,” Heather said gloomily.
“Something’s not right, Luce,” Rowena said.
Something was terribly wrong. Around them, the Market was proceeding normally. Trading was in full swing. There were loud arguments, boisterous laughter. The air was redolent with the warm aroma of pipe smoke and marijuana. It was like having an out-of-body experience. Like they had died and were watching it all unfold from the spirit world.
Something fundamental had changed.
“Let’s get home,” Lucy said.
9
The Council called the meeting to order. It had been a week since the debacle at the Market. They had increased patrols. Each night, a dozen sentinels stood guard, roaming the property, looking for any uninvited guests. A perimeter fence or wall had not been feasible given the size of Promise, but Lucy sure wished they had one now. The Council had been meeting daily, discussing their options, coming up with a plan. Now the nearly two hundred residents of Promise had piled into the cafeteria, demanding answers. The room was loud, boisterous, ripe with anxiety.
Word of the incident at the Market had spread quickly, and tensions were running high. They were okay for now, but the idea of being isolated from the larger world had left everyone unsettled. Lucy felt it too. She had asked Norah to stay close to home, although she was not sure how compliant she was being with her requests. Kids that age, you couldn’t watch them twenty-four hours a day.
“I still can’t believe he got away,” Jack said. He thumped a closed fist against the arm of his chair. He was still fired up about the escape of the prisoner burning at his core. He had anger he needed to discharge, but for the moment, there was no place to unload it. Although Lucy wasn’t fond of his quick temper, she had to admit he was right. The blackball was in some way related to the mysterious man who’d gotten away.
They still did not know much about the new threat. Either this newcomer indeed did wield a good deal of power, or they had convinced others that they had a good deal of power, which was just as concerning. Someone that could control a narrative was not to be underestimated.
Acquiring good intelligence on the world beyond was a constant challenge. Communities rose and fell, either dissolving or merging with others. People came and went; someone you’d known for months or years and saw frequently would disappear, never to be seen again. Every now and again, you’d hear stories of someone full of piss and vinegar, trying to establish themselves as some kind of warlord.
Certainly there had been bloodshed the dark days following the Pulse, though the violence had largely been limited to the urban areas once supplies began to dry up. Many had perished during that first terrifying summer. It had been ironically cruel. Millions had starved not because there wasn’t enough food but because of the total collapse of American food supply chain in which that food had become hopelessly clogged. Somehow in their nation of plenty, millions had gone hungry while countless tons of fruits and vegetables rotted on farms and livestock died because there was no way to get it to the market.
If Lucy had still been living in the city, if she had not inherited the small farm, she would have likely seen at a similar fate. But she had been one of the lucky ones.
“When’s the next market?” asked Betsy Marden. She was one of the farmhands; very few worked as hard as she did. Her battery never seemed to run dry.
“Two weeks,” Lucy replied.
“We need to find who this new player is,” Jack said.
“Any ideas?” Carol, the chair of the Council, asked.
Silence fell across the group.
Jack chewed on his lower lip, a habit of his when he was deep in thought.
“I’ve got an idea,” Lucy said.
“Go on,” said Jon Schlosser, another Council member.
“We send in a spy,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“We pick someone who hasn’t been to Market before,” she said. “Pretend to be an outsider. Ask questions. Eavesdrop.”
“I don’t like this cloak and dagger business,” Jack said.
“What a surprise,” Lucy said, annoyed with her brother. Patience was not one of his virtues.
“I say we just go in there and rattle some cages until we get the information we need.”
“And expose us to even more danger?”
Jack let out a noisy sigh.
“There is no danger,” he said. “This is just a bully. Trying to scare everyone. It’s probably four guys jerking off in a tent.”
“I hope you’re right,” Lucy said. “But until we know for sure, we’re not taking any chances.”
They asked Ray Hofstetter. Ray was a quiet man who kept to himself but was never afraid to volunteer for dirty work. He’d been a software engineer, brainy, thoughtful. He didn’t socialize much, happy to work alone and be alone. The kind of face you forgot just a few minutes after meeting. He would be perfect to send in.
They left at midday on the day before the Market, making the ten-mile journey on foot and forgoing the horses. It would be easier stay hidden. They spent a quiet night in the woods a mile from the town square; they did not build a fire for obvious reasons. It was a chilly night, but they had packed heavy clothing. After a cold meal of bread and salted meats, they retired with little chitchat. It took Lucy a long time to fall asleep, but once she did, she slept hard. She woke with the sun, her muscles stiff but feeling refreshed. Jack was already up, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Ray was awake, reading a book. They enjoyed a quiet breakfast. Little was said. All understood the importance of the mission.
“Ray, you ready to do this?”
He nodded, his face a cipher. He was hard to read. If he was nervous about his mission, he was hiding it well.
“What’s your name?” Jack asked, running through the cover story they’d constructed for him.
“Bill Dixon.”
“Where you from?”
“Boston.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Headed north for the summer,” he said. “Gonna spend the summer in Maine.”
“What’ve you been up to since the Pulse?”
“On the road,” he said. “I don’t like being in one place too long.”
He and Lucy exchanged a glance. He delivered the story without hesitation. He was ready.
“We’ll meet you at the rendezvous point,” Lucy said. “You’re gonna do fine.”
“Remember,” Jack said. “Just listen and learn.”
“Got it,” he said.
After a handshake from Jack and a quick hug from Lucy, Ray was on his way, leaving the siblings alone at the campsite. It felt eerily quiet as they packed up the campsite, even though Ray himself rarely said a word. When the gear was secure, they followed Ray’s trail through the woods east toward the Market; they would remain in the woods overlooking the town square. It was a chilly day, cloudy. She was glad she’d worn her heavy parka. They secreted themselves at the edge of a long tree line on a grassy hillside. Beyond the trees, a wide hill sloped gently toward the town square. In the winter, after a good snow, it made for great sliding for the kids.
Lucy and Jack took position about fifty feet from one another. Each had a pair of binoculars. They agreed to keep watch until the Market closed for the day, after which they would meet Ray near a large grain silo on the outskirts of town.
Lucy took the easternmost position; Jack covered the western flank. A light rain began to fall from the low, grey skies overhead. On the plus side, they didn’t have to worry about the glint of sunshine on their binoculars.
The Market opened on schedule. It was weird watching it from afar. From their vantage point, it looked like a child’s playset come to life. Tiny figurines moving to and fro. It was familiar and alien at the same time. It felt like she was watching a home movie, a relic of days gone by. But even seeing the familiar faces that she had grown to know over the last few years, s
he was filled with a kind of dread. The sensation that things had changed right under your feet.
Change was hard, especially in this new world. Just when you thought things had stabilized, this world threw you a curveball and you had to learn to lay off a bit, just a fraction of a second before taking your swing, to make sure you put wood on the ball.
The surveillance mission was difficult and tedious. It demanded all of her attention.
The morning ticked by slowly. Around midday, the sun near its peak, Lucy’s stomach rumbled. She ate the flatbread in her pack mechanically, never removing her eyes from the field glasses. She did not want to miss a thing. But for all her careful attention, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Ray entered the Market without issue, drifting from booth to booth. They’d given him a few odds and ends to trade so he could fit in. She saw unfamiliar faces, which was not uncommon. Immigration and emigration was common in any community. The appearance of new faces and disappearance of familiar ones was forever a constant in their lives. There were always rumors of the grass being greener elsewhere. Rumors of places where the power was on again. Rumors of heat and air conditioning flowing through the vents, of stocked grocery stores. Even in a world absent of social media, the rumor mill was always churning.
But she’d never known anyone who’d actually seen one of these Valhallas with their own eyes. It was always a friend of a friend who had told them about it.
Traffic entering and exiting the Market was steady all day. It warmed Lucy’s heart to see so many communities coming together. Maybe one day, they could get back to something resembling normalcy. Activity began to slow down as the sun began its final slide to the horizon. With the crowd dwindling, Ray made his way to the exit, joining a steady flow of people making their way home. A core group would stay the night and party. A bonfire, charcoal grills, booze, drugs, sex, fights, it had it all. Anything and everything went. She’d stayed for an afterparty once before. Although it was too much for her, it gave folks a chance to blow off steam.
Lucy packed up her belongings and withdrew from her post. She silently moved through the woods. It was cool here, quiet but for the babble of a nearby brook. She loved the woods. The solitude eased her troubled mind, gave her a chance to think. She hoped Ray had gleaned some useful intelligence.
The forest thinned out after about two hundred yards, opening up on a highway running east and west. The little town of Bronco lay about a quarter mile to the west. A trio of silos rose up like giant guardians on the town’s outskirts. She was nervous, kept her hand on the butt of her weapon and kept to the trees, staking out a serpentine path around the trees on the edge.
She heard nothing and saw no one. This town was mostly abandoned, although a few free-love squatters had made their home here. She’d met them once at one of the Market afterparties. Weird bunch. Lucy had no plans to enter the town proper anyway, keeping to the large tract of land once owned by a grain company. She opened the perimeter fence, the hasp squeaky and rusty with age. The fence itself was rusted, bowed in spots, broken in others. Like so much of their world, it was run down.
The rendezvous point was just ahead. Behind her, a flicker of movement. Her hand dropped to her holster before she recognized Jack’s gait. Not a saunter, not a stroll, some combination of the two from a man who was not afraid of this world, who was not afraid to meet it head on. She paused, waiting for him to close the gap between them.
“Any sign of Ray?” he asked, a nervous hitch in his voice.
“I saw him leave the Market,” she said. “Lost him in the crowd.”
“Same,” Jack said.
She scanned the area carefully, keeping her eyes on shadows and corners. Jack did not rattle easily, and if something had tickled his gut, it was to be taken seriously.
“Let’s have a look around,” Lucy said.
Jack looked a bit manic and a lot pissed. He was itching for a fight. Recent events were building up on him, and he was liable to blow soon. But she needed him to remain calm. His skills were considerable, but they deteriorated rapidly when his temper got the best of him.
“Stay calm,” she said.
She now shared his assessment that something was amiss. Ray had not arrived at the rendezvous point. This was deeply troubling. Lucy was engulfed with dread about their fate.
Moving in tandem, Lucy and Jack moved deeper on to the grain company’s land. There were three silos on the property, the largest about sixty feet in diameter and roughly two hundred feet tall. The other two were about half the height and diameter. The rally point was the far side of the southernmost silo. Lucy and her brother kept close to the wall of the big silo as they snaked their way through shadows.
A flash of color on the ground caught Lucy’s eye. She held up a fist, signaling Jack to stop behind her. She knelt down to the ground, which was carpeted with shriveled and dry, brown grass, stained with fresh, crimson liquid.
Blood.
Her heart sank.
She and Jack exchanged knowing glances.
She held her breath, primed her ears, but the place was dead silent.
The trail of blood continued around the perimeter of the silo, increasing in quantity as they neared the backside of the large building. Lucy and Jack slowed their pace, keeping their backs pressed against the cool metal. Both had their weapons drawn. They were near the back of the property now, less than twenty yards from its northern perimeter fencing.
The trail of blood had metastasized into large puddles. Long shadows stretched out, obscuring their view. The shadows kept them largely hidden from any malicious actors who might have been lingering here. But Lucy didn’t need a perfect line of sight to see what had happened. Ray lay face up near the fencing; his throat was slashed.
He was dead.
As Lucy approached the body, Jack covered the area with his gun, ensuring that they were alone. But no one else was here. Whoever had killed Ray wanted them to see this. Otherwise, they would’ve just ambushed all three of them at once. She knelt next to Ray, this fine, quiet man.
Their world was a risky one, and tomorrow was never guaranteed. But it didn’t make this any easier to swallow. Ray was a good man with a great deal to offer, and his life had been snuffed out like it was nothing.
Jack tapped her on the shoulder and gestured toward the side of the silo. Lucy turned slowly, dreading what she was about to see. Jack’s face had flushed with rage.
There was a message written on the silo. In giant, capital letters, the words “SEE YOU SOON” had been hastily and sloppily slapped on the wall.
The message had been written in blood.
10
Ray’s murder escalated the unease following the blackball from the Market into palpable fear. The new threat looming just beyond their borders was all anyone could talk about. In the dining hall, in the lodges and cottages, around the fire pits. Who? How? And why?
Over the next few days, Lucy treated several people for anxiety attacks.
A few confided in her that it was the most worried they’d been since the early days after the Pulse. Back when nobody’s survival had been guaranteed. But they’d moved into a new status quo, a new normal.
The day after Jack and Lucy’s return, a brief memorial service for Ray was held in the open plaza at the center of their community. Farid, a refugee from Syria who arrived in the U.S. the day before the Pulse, eulogized their fallen brother. By the time he finished his words, there was not a dry eye left.
The Council moved Promise to its highest level of readiness. They had three dozen people on patrol twenty-four hours a day. As head of security, Jack continued to lead scouting missions in the immediate vicinity. But no one else was permitted to leave the compound. All they could do was wait for the other shoe to drop.
The shoe dropped two days later. Lucy was in the clinic, midway through a sixteen-hour shift. There had been no additional cases of coronavirus since the initial cluster. The irony was not lost on her. Her search for antiviral medication had
put them on a collision course with this new threat. The sisters at the Falls had had the medicine she was looking for. Like Barrett, however, they made a tactical decision not to trade with Promise.
Lucy was in the middle of charting when Terri came bursting through the door. She endeavored to keep thorough records of the medical care that she provided to Promise’s residents. In the absence of the computerized electronic medical records she become accustomed to in the last few years before the Pulse, it was extremely challenging. But she did her best; it helped that Promise was relatively small. Even with a population of a couple hundred, it wasn’t impossible to keep good records on her patients.
“We’ve got visitors,” she said.
Lucy’s heart started racing.
She pushed back from her desk, carefully stacking the papers to review later. Terri looked frazzled, so Lucy avoided peppering her with questions about their visitors. She checked on her patients one more time before turning their care over to Terri. She had proven to be a quick study. Lucy had grown increasingly comfortable with her at the helm. Others worked in the clinic too, but none had shown the same level of aptitude.
Before leaving, she exchanged one final look with Terri.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Lucy said reassuringly.
Although she really didn’t know that.
She went outside into the heat of the day. It was a warm spring day, the sun burning a bronze hole into the cobalt sky.
American Midnight | Book 2 | Nightfall Page 8
