G-157
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“That is the emergency alarm. Those people just figured out they’re trapped in here and can’t communicate to the outside world.”
“What do you mean?”
He lead her through another door, climbed more stairs, and through yet another door that lead to a tiny five-by-seven room. The door closed, more buttons were pushed. Aire jumped and clung to the railing when she felt the room heave.
“This is called an elevator. It will take us towards the entry room near the surface.”
Aire gazed around the elevator, slowly getting used to the idea of a moving room. She backed away from the wall, but still clung tight to the railing.
“Jackson,” she said. “What do you mean they can’t talk to the outside world?”
“You won’t understand now, but you will later. I jammed the telecommunications transmitters. No signal in, no signal out. There’s only one working radio transmitter in the facility, and no one but us can get to it.”
“What?”
“I rewired all the security codes. My job was chief computer system researcher, so I had access to all data bases. Basically, I caged them in and stopped the mail. By the time they figure out the new codes, you’ll be out of here.”
Aire nodded. Fear griped at her and made her head spin; you’re finally getting out, finally getting out of John’s Town.
I didn’t want to get out like this, not like this.
“Where will I go?”
“West. When you reach the surface, head west. You’ll run into a mountain chain. I did some research on the area when I realized I couldn’t stop the virus that caused all this and found that there’s a community there for illegal aliens in the woods. The man in charge takes everyone in, no questions asked. It’s by the only stream in this part of the state. You’ll know the place when you see it. Lots of dogs and kids. Everyone speaks Spanish.”
“What’s Spanish?”
“Another language.”
“There’s more than one language?”
Jackson shook his head. “Don’t ask so many questions when you’re out there. You’ll raise suspicions, and you can be sure they’ll come looking for you one day.”
Aire swallowed, her grip tightening on the railing as the elevator lurched to a halt. “What will I do when I get there?”
Jackson smiled as the door opened. “Anything you want.”
He lead her through to another room. This one was small and hot. A single computer sat next to the elevator. On the opposite side sat another giant door. Jackson opened it and waved her through.
“This is as far as I go, Aire. Follow the tunnel. It will lead up into the cellar of a shack in the middle of the desert. Head west. You should reach the community in two, three days max.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Cover for you. Now get going. Good luck, Aire.” He pushed more buttons and the door began to close. For the first time Aire smiled back at him.
“Thank you.”
Jackson nodded and watched her disappear behind the door. He sat behind the computer desk, fired up the CPU and turned on the web cam. The monitor was just beginning to flicker to life when he heard the elevator make its descent back into the control room. They’d cracked his code. It wouldn’t be long now before they’d be coming to get him, but maybe his message could buy the girl a little more time.
Computer up and running, Jackson checked the internet signal. It was weak, but it was enough to transmit his message. He dialed the number to a one way feed and was quickly transferred to the man he needed to see.
***
Thursday May 6, 2010
8:04 a.m.
Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, D.C.
He was in his office looking over legislation requests to build six new green car plants in the U.S. over the next ten years in order to help comply with the U.N.’s agreement to reduce carbon emissions. He didn’t look up when his secretary entered.
“Sir, you’ve got an urgent message.”
“Mmm?” he mumbled, focusing on the bill.
“It’s from Blue Lion.”
President Jasper’s head jerked to attention. “Get it here,” he said, scrambling to his computer.
The secretary rushed from the room. Seconds later, distorted video feed appeared on the monitor. He turned up the volume and stared intently at the dark man sending the message.
“This is Reginald Jackson reporting from Blue Lion base 3.7 kilometers west of Winslow, Arizona. Extermination has failed. Infected units struck a full force attack on field marines. Numbers overwhelming. Wild Card lead an uprising of non-infected units. Command center breached. Repeat, command center breached. Initiating emergency project failure procedure in T minus thirty seconds. Jackson, over and out.”
The screen turned to static. The president sat staring at the snow, listening to the white noise. He leaned his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands.
“Fuck.”
***
Thursday May 6, 2010
6:05 a.m.
Population: 86
Jackson killed the transmission and sat back in his chair, listening to the woman’s voice count backwards from thirty over the intercom. He was more calm than he expected to be at this moment. His thoughts were clear. He smiled as he spoke to God without words.
He thought of Aire, of what she’d do with her life. She’d been through hell but the girl was resilient. His last thought before he saw the elevator door open was that she would live.
T-mines five seconds.
Hands reached through the small crack in the elevator door, trying to force it open. The first few marines squeezed through, white panic on their faces as they heard the final second announced. Jackson had just enough time to wave goodbye before the earth rumbled.
***
Thursday May 6, 2010
6:06 a.m.
Population: 0
Aire raced through the seemingly endless tunnel. The halls were made of dirt and dimly lit with a string of lights along the ceiling like an old mining shaft. The further she ran, the hotter it became. She wondered as she ran how much time she had before they’d be on her tail.
Seconds later, the force of the blast knocked Aire off her feet. The blast sent a ringing through her ears as dust clouds billowed off the walls and she feared the tunnel would cave in. Brushing the dirt from her hands, she pulled her shirt collar over her nose and closed her eyes, the dust so thick it rendered her blind. She wandered through the tunnel, her arms stretched in front of her to feel her way through. Another ten minutes of walking, the heat almost unbearable, she finally opened her eyes and squinted through the settling dust.
Small slices of the sunlight beamed from above a set of wooden stairs. She climbed them, and using all her force opened the heavy doors. She crawled into a dirt floor shack.
“Just like he said.”
The shack was small and littered in rusted old farming equipment. Navigating through the scythes and chains, she stepped out to see where she was.
By the look of the sun Aire guessed it was a little after six in the morning, (if time even worked the same in the real world) but it was already scorching hot. She removed her pack and jacket, wrapping it around her waist, and took a drink while surveying her surroundings. Desert stretched in every direction. Long, hot, desolate desert. To the west, a faint outline of trees loomed in the distance. Replacing the water and shouldering her pack, Aire set off towards the trees, her eyes looking up to the sky for the first time.
***
Saturday May 8, 2010
In the woods…
Two days later, her stomach burning with hunger and the urge to drink her last few ounces of water becoming unbearable, Aire rejoiced at the sound of a stream. She’d reached the woods just as the sun was settling the night before. Though thankful to be in the shade after two days under the blazing desert sun, the trees weren’t much help. It was still hot, and the plants were different here from where she’d grown up. Huge t
horny bushes grew thick between the pine trees. The grass was razor sharp with prickles that kept falling into her shoes. The bushes and grass scratched at her aching limbs and tore holes in her jeans. All that was forgotten at the sound of the water.
She ran through the woods, not caring about the plants clawing at her, and bounded into the shallow water. She cupped her hands and greedily sucked up the cool liquid. It soothed her cracked, sun burnt skin as she ran it on her face and arms. She laughed as she splashed it on her head, loving the feel of it dripping down her face as it washed the dust out of her tender red scalp.
“Yeah, it’s a hot one.”
Aire screamed and fell back into the water at the sound of the man’s voice. He sat in a folding chair on the opposite bank, a fishing pole bobbing in his hands. He smiled from under a ridiculous straw hat. A German Shephard looked at her curiously from the man’s side.
Aire didn’t move. She sat frozen, staring up at him from the water. He reeled in his fishing line and gracefully recast it into the water. He took a sip from a bottle resting in the arm of the chair and pointed it at her.
“I’d offer you one but you don’t look old enough to drive a car let alone drink a beer,” he said, putting the bottle back in the chair. “I do have Gatorade though, and I suggest you take it. You might get the runs if you keep drinking that water.”
Aire stood up, wondering what a Gatorade was. The man took a red bottle out of his cooler and motioned that he would toss it to her. She caught it easily and read the contents. Some of the words she didn’t know, but it was cold and she was still thirsty. She opened the bottle and took a sip, shocked at the sweetness of it. She tilted her head back and finished its contents, feeling better almost immediately.
“Thank you,” she called.
“Sure,” the man said. He reeled his line in a few inches and turned back to Aire. “You come from where that earthquake was?”
“I passed through.”
“A bunch of hooey,” the man said, waving his hand in the air. “Ain’t no earthquakes in Flag. The government is probably testing some new bomb to drop on Bin Laden.”
“Who said it was an earthquake?”
“The government. Said it was unusual seismic aftershock from the big quake in California bout three weeks ago. Hooey is what I think of that. Damn government is always lying to people. Treat us like mushrooms they do.”
“Mushrooms?”
“Yeah,” the man smiled as he took another sip from the glass bottle. “They keep us in the dark and feed us a bunch of bullshit just like we were mushrooms.”
“Ain’t that the truth.”
The man smiled. “Hey, Riley,” he said, poking at the dog. “Why don’t you go say hello to the lady?”
The Shepherd got up and stretched before trotting down the bank to greet the girl. Aire smiled as the dog licked her face. She scratched his ears and eventually wrapped her arms around him. She sat in the water for a long time, holding the dog in her arms and rocking back and forth. When she finally let go, the dog leaned gently towards her face to lick the mix of water and tears from her cheeks. The man across the stream cleared his throat.
“You know,” he said “I don’t know your story and mean no offense, but I got a little set up for folks passin through and folks who got nowhere to go.”
“Why?”
The man smiled at her again. “I do it to give back. Many people around the world have made me well off. Payin my dues I guess you could say.”
Aire looked back to the dog, his brown eyes curious as they gazed back at her.
“Anyway,” the man said, recasting his line again. “There’s plenty of room if you need a place. You won’t have to share a room with anyone either since a young man just got married and bought a house in Show Low with his wife. Come by whenever. It’s up the river a ways.”
Aire looked into the trees up the river. When she stopped to listen she could hear the birds singing above the stream. She looked back to the man and smiled. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”
Epilogue
Saturday August 21, 2010
Fifteen miles west of Flagstaff, Arizona
Aire sat on the porch of her one room cabin drinking tea. She’d had a good night and slept all the way through, a rare thing over the last few months. For the first few weeks, she’d wake up from a terrible nightmare of her last days in John’s Town several times a night covered in sweat. Now they were down to one nightmare a night, and on occasion she had none. She hoped that one day she’d have beautiful dreams again, but for now a full night of sleep was good enough for her.
The community, this place of refuge Jackson had directed her to, was composed mainly of illegal Hispanic families. They lived together in run down cabins and trailers in the woods. Some of them had jobs and were saving money to get their own home. Mostly the dreams of the people were that their children would get an education and a nice job so that they could one day provide a comfortable home for their own families.
It was the children Aire mainly spoke to as most of the adults spoke only Spanish. She was learning the language at a rapid pace, but communication was difficult at times. She was glad she had it though. For the first few weeks after her arrival, Aire spent most her the time by herself, speaking little as she observed this new culture. Over time she grew more comfortable, but never mentioned her past.
She’d taken on a new identity as well, and was now known only as Marie. The community had accepted her as one of their own, and she began to think of these people as her new family. It was pleasant here, peaceful and safe, and most important, it was real.
There were a couple of old white hobos that would come and go on occasion. She felt uneasy around them, but not threatened. The man at the river, Harris Chadwick, had taken noticed of her discomfort and spoke to them about it. From then on they avoided Aire completely.
Harris Chadwick owned over a hundred square acres of the Coconino forest that the community settled in. Other than that, the members of the community knew very little about him other than the fact that he was a terrible fisherman, but could hold his own in a poker game and was always ready to lend a helping hand and offer a beer to anyone in need. Aire liked that about him. He had his own secrets and respected those of others. The only secret Aire wished she knew more about was herself.
Her secret was what she’d do next. She had grown fond of the community, but too many questions would arise over time. Someone could come looking for her, and she was afraid of what they’d do if they found her. She would have to move, and keep moving. But there was a joy in that; she was free now. She could go wherever she wanted, though she had no idea where that might be.
“Hola, Marie!”
Aire’s thoughts were interrupted by the heavy set woman in a flowered dress walking by, a basket of tomatoes in hand and two small children in tow. Aire smiled and waved at the woman. “Hola, Maricela.”
“How is baby?” she asked in a slow, heavy Spanish accent.
“Dormir,” Aire said, pressing her palms together and resting her head on them.
“Ah, sleeping,” the woman replied. “And mama, how she?”
“I’m okay,” Aire nodded. “Just having trouble sleeping.”
“You no sleep?”
“Si.”
The woman rubbed her sun worn cheeks with a chubby hand. “I see, I see. Drink caliente, eh, hot tomillo. Drink hot tomillo tea. Good for sleep and make for good dream. Not drink so much. Too mas, too much, is bad for baby.”
Aire nodded and smiled. “Gracias. I’ll try that.”
“You welcome. Buenos dias, Marie.”
“Buenos dias.”
Aire’s hand rubbed the small bump forming in her stomach. Whatever she was going to do, she needed to decide quickly. In a few short months she wouldn’t be making her journey alone.