by Angel Lawson
“There’s also a viable Safe City in Birmingham, but getting across South Carolina and Georgia has proven to be a problem,” the woman leading our tour explains. Her name is Sophia and she’s young and Asian with short, cropped hair and wearing the kind of shoes that are appropriate post-Crisis. I like her already.
Jude clears his throat. “What kind of problem. Exactly.”
“From what we understand, the Georgia-Florida line was the hardest hit by the parasite. It caused an immediate breakdown that took a little bit longer to ripple up here. Between the Eaters, subsequent military action, and what seems to be additional biological warfare added into the mix, that entire area is a hot zone.”
“The Death Fields,” I say.
“What?” she asks.
“We call them the Death Fields. The no-man’s land between the cities. And yeah, we spent time in the middle of that. It was pretty bad.”
“You were there?” She looks shaken. “And survived?”
Jude answers, “It wasn’t easy, but yes.”
“I’m sure the council will be interested in what you have to say. They’re always looking for as much information about outside the city as possible. There are a lot of rumors so they’re particularly interested in firsthand accounts. We’re establishing our first expeditions outside the walls.”
“You’ve had no military?” Wyatt asks.
“Oh we have a military. But their primary function has been to clear the surrounding area from Eaters. We’ve been busy here, pushing into the surrounding towns like Greensboro and Durham. Luckily it’s been some time since we’ve had an attack.”
“Have you made it to Raleigh?” I ask hopefully.
“Yes, they’re all mostly cleared of the infestation. Now that our own environment is under control, we hope to come to a better understanding with New Hope so we can get trade routes established.” She smiles, pointing us to a hotel not far from intake. Armed guards stand in the doorways. “That’s the plan, at least.”
“What kind of understanding?” Zoe asks.
The smile falters and Sophie’s face takes on a more guarded expression. “You would think at the end of civilization things would get less political—that we would have common goals of survival and progress.”
“They aren’t?” Mary Ellen asks. Her face betrays nothing. None of us give an inch on what we know.
“I have faith, but nothing is easy,” she says, stopping at the doorway. “I’ll set up a meeting for you all with the council. Until then you can find details about our community in your rooms. It’s only two bedrooms but the pantry is stocked. If you pass the interview we’ll give you all more permanent quarters.”
“Thank you, Sophia,” I say. “What can we expect from the interview?”
“It’s a standard process everyone must go through. Full background and any information you can share about how you got here and what you’ve seen.” She smiles. “Go rest. I suspect the council will want to speak to you soon.”
I have no doubt that’s true, but I do wonder how much they’ll actually know. Zoe and even Walker admitted we’ve gained some celebrity status. Has it come this far? If they recognize us will they know we’re wanted and on the run? Or exactly what kind of experience we have in the Death Fields? Once again I feel myself getting sucked into another powerful entities game. I glance at the ring on my finger. More and more, I just want to live my life in peace.
*
Even though it’s mid-day we use the time in our hotel room to sleep. There’s not much preparation we can do. There are guards on every hallway, the elevator and at the exits. It’s a smart move—this town seems nice. I would protect it too.
The room is more of a suite and has two bedrooms attached. I’m about to move into one with Wyatt when Mary Ellen grabs my wrist. “Will you stay with me? It doesn’t feel right sharing a bed with another man.” She swallows. “Not yet.”
I’ve noticed the dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes. She’s still mourning Finn and deeply exhausted. “Sure,” I say. “Zoe, you take the couch. Guys, the other room.”
A grimace ghosts over Wyatt’s face but he looks sympathetically at Mary Ellen and heads to the room with Jude. I crawl into the bed, dressed with my boots on. I have no idea if the sheets are really clean but my last solid sleep was in the car, so no complaints. I tuck my hatchet under the pillow and close my eyes.
“Get some rest,” I say, already half asleep.
“You too, Alex.”
I fall hard and even when I feel the shift of the bed and squeak of the bathroom door I can’t bring myself to fully wake. It’s only hours later, when the sky has grown dark that I realize Mary Ellen has left the bed and never came back. The bathroom door is closed and I spot a faint light underneath the crack.
“Hey,” I call out. I stretch my arms over my head. “Are you okay?”
There’s a long hesitation and then, “Yes.” Her voice wavers and it’s followed by the sound of her blowing her nose.
“M.E., I can’t even imagine what it’s like to lose someone like that. If I lost Wyatt…well, there were a few times I did think I lost him. I thought he was dead when Chloe locked us up. I mourned him. For months. It wasn’t easy, but if you need me I’m here. Anytime.” I lean against the door frame and push away those terrible feelings of loss. There’s no response from the other side of the door and I call out, “Mary Ellen?”
The door jerks open and I stumble forward, nearly smashing into the girl. Her face is streaked red and it’s clear she’s been crying. I reach out to give her a hug but she pushes my hands away before balling hers into tight fists.
“I have something to say,” her voice wobbles, but her chin juts in the air.
“Okay. Sure.”
“Finn and I weren’t married, you know that. But we were very much in love. I’m sure he was my soul mate.”
“He loved you so much, M.E. I’ve never seen a man look at someone with such devotion.”
She shakes her head. “We never could have been together in our old community. Never. It wouldn’t have been allowed.”
I reach for one of those balled-up fists and take it in mine. “Then I’m glad you had time together, even if it was in the middle of the freaking apocalypse. I mean, I never would have met Wyatt if this hadn’t happened. I wouldn’t know you or Jude or Paul. I’ve made some amazing friends because of this and it’s too hard to say if I’d give them up to make everything go back to normal, you know? Would I trade Wyatt for my mom?”
The thought makes me queasy.
“Alex?”
“Yeah?” I look up at Mary Ellen’s face and suddenly she seems very, very young.
“I’m pregnant.”
*
There’s not enough time for me to process Mary Ellen’s announcement before Sophia has returned, asking us to follow her to the council meeting. A hundred scenarios flip through my brain about the pregnancy; the biggest is who would bring a child into a disaster like this? Between the Eaters and Hybrids and people living on the fringe I can’t imagine the burden. I don’t speak my concerns and try my hardest to keep the thought off my face. Instead I say, “We’ll figure something out.”
“I’m worried about the EVI-3. I didn’t know when I took the shot.”
Great. Add mutant baby to the pile of things to worry about.
Mary Ellen cleans herself up and I meet the others in the living area. Wyatt studies my face and asks quietly, “You okay?”
“Just girl stuff.”
He raises an eyebrow and my cheeks blush. He’s not an idiot. “Not my girl stuff. Hers. No big deal.”
Lies lies lies.
By the time we reach the council meeting I think I’ve regained my composure and to be honest, Mary Ellen looks fine. Relieved, even. I guess telling someone made her feel better and she’s had longer to accept it. I’m still reeling.
Sophia brings us to the courthouse and stops at a door that still has the tag ’Courtroom A’ tagged to the w
all. “Everyone that enters the city has to come across the review board. It’s just for basic safety. Some survivors are a bit erratic when they arrive. We don’t kick them out but it’s important people get the help they need,” she says. “I’ve briefed them on what you’ve told me already and the council is eager to hear about your experiences. The trickle of survivors slows with each passing week. There are not many people still living out there.”
“Oh they’re out there—they’re just content where they are,” I say. “Or they have no idea you’re here.”
“We’ve had to be careful about alerting the wider area of our existence.” I don’t blame her. Chloe would have steam rolled over this place in rage-fueled heartbeat.
“Smart.”
She peeks in the window and says, “They’re ready. Follow me.”
There’s a circular table at the front of the room across from wooden benches. Eleven members of the council sit behind the table, a variety of ages and cultures. Their shoes are visible and I note they’re mostly sneakers or boots. One man has a knife strapped to his thigh. I feel a sense of relief. No one who understands what’s happening outside the gates wears shoes you can’t run and fight in or walks around unarmed. Already these people seem more together than the officials we met in New Hope.
We file into the front row, confident in our unity. We agreed in the apartment we would find out what the council knew about the outside world—about Hamilton and the Hybrids. I get the feeling they’re not clueless but until you experience it yourself, it’s hard to judge. Hamilton lives in a glass house. His ideas are dangerous.
“Welcome to Winston-Salem,” the woman at the center of the table says. She has light brown skin and thick black hair, streaked with white, pulled into a tight bun at the base of her neck. Her eyes are a vivid green and there are deep lines that claw outward, giving the air of someone much older. Life hasn’t been easy for this woman. “I’m Roberta Perez, chairperson of the council. It seems you’ve had quite the journey.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jude replies. He has the best manners and most unassuming nature. We voted him spokesperson. “We met one another in Augusta. It’s been a long journey.”
The men and woman glance at one another and Ms. Perez speaks again. “Our scouts tell us anything south of Columbia, South Carolina is impassible.”
“Possibly,” Jude says again. “It’s been a while since we left that area. Conflict was high at the time. Different groups vying for territory.”
“What kind of groups?” a young man with a thick beard asks. His name tag says Ethan.
“Militant groups,” Jude says. “There were a few former military groups around as well as people that took up arms.”
No one utters the name PharmaCorp.
“Were you part of one of these groups?” Ethan asks.
“At one time or the other. It was best to stick with larger community—for protection and safety.”
“Mr…” Ms. Perez looks at Wyatt. We may have asked Jude to be our spokesperson but it only takes a moment in Wyatt’s presence to understand his authority.
“Wyatt Faraday.”
“Wyatt, then. We’re hearing rumors that go beyond basic military action down south. It could just be a myth—or a post-crisis urban legend—but the survivors that come into town often speak of men and women stronger than the infected—enhanced soldiers. Have you encountered anything like that?”
Wyatt pauses for the tiniest moment, I don’t know if Ms. Perez or the others notice but he answers truthfully. “Yes, I’ve encountered these men and women. We call them Hybrids.”
“And they’re dangerous?” Ethan asks. He’s leaning over the table. The woman next to him, an older woman with a full head of gray hair, has a deep, concerned line creasing her forehead.
“Extremely.”
We watch as the members of the council turn to one another and murmur in conversation. I’m worried he’s said too much and it will set them into a panic—but we’ll never get anywhere without the truth. I open my mouth to speak when Ms. Perez looks at Sophia who is standing by an interior door. “Please fetch the informant.”
Sophia nods and disappears behind the wooden door.
“We recently had a survivor come through intake. She was half-starved and ill—although free from the infection. Our health services put her in the infirmary on close watch. Her behavior was erratic and due to the fever—or at least what we thought was the fever—she had raving delusions about what was going on outside Winston-Salem and our immediate cleared areas. There was enough truth to what she said that we’ve kept her monitored for the last month while hoping for corroboration.” Ms. Perez sighs. “She used the term Hybrid—something no one else has used up to this point. Until now.”
The door opens and we all look at Sophia returning to the room. “She claims she has nothing new to say. You either believe her or just lock her back up. She doesn’t care.”
“I’m aware this has been a hard time for her,” Ms. Perez says. “Ask her to come in—I think she’ll be interested in our guests.”
Sophia pushes open the door and the entry is empty until I see a figure dressed in a basic, scrub-style uniform. I spot the braids next and smooth dark skin. A jagged scar slashes through her eyebrow. Her brown eyes flash in confusion and then recognition when she sees us. I reach for Wyatt’s hand.
Jude pushes Zoe to the side and races across the room, shocking the guard and the Council.
We’ve found Parker.
Chapter Sixteen
Parker shoves aside Sophia and flings her arms around Jude. He doesn’t miss a beat, squeezing her tight as she repeats over and over, “I thought I’d never find you again.”
He strokes the long braids that hang down her back. She closes her eyes and breaths him in. Taking a moment in the chaos to reconnect.
Tears prick at my eyes and Wyatt’s hand tightens in mine. There’s no doubt this world is crazy. It’s dark and lonely. We struggle and fight and alternately pray for it to all end and to live another day. But we also found something so good out here. And Parker is one of the good ones.
“I gather you know one another,” Ms. Perez says, gesturing for the guards to stand down.
“Yes,” I say going in for my own hug. She hasn’t let go of Jude’s hand for a second. “What did she do to get locked up?” I ask but the look of defiance on Parker’s face explains a lot. She must not have made it easy on anyone.
“And you two,” she looks at Mary Ellen and Jude. “Did you lie on your entry information? I’m assuming you’re not really married.”
“No, we’re not. My fiancé was killed not long ago.” Mary Ellen says. “It’s smarter to pose as a couple. For safety. Nothing more.”
Ms. Perez nods, although I’m sure she can’t understand what it’s like to be out there or come into a new community alone. I look at Parker, her hands are shaking and she’s thin as a rail. I’m not sure I understand, either.
Parker stops short when she realizes Zoe is standing with us. That she’s part of us. “What is she doing here?”
“Zoe’s okay, Parker. She’s helped us out.”
“Your funeral, you know that right?” She eyes the younger girl with a hard glare. Zoe holds her eye but her color pales. Parker rolls her eyes and says, “Her daddy is gonna find you and it won’t be pretty.”
She’s right. When Hamilton catches up to us, Zoe being with us will be a problem. One I hope we can leverage when the time comes.
“Are you okay?” I ask, wanting to get off the topic of the girl. “Where have you been? Walker said you disappeared from New Hope.”
Parker’s eyes narrow. “Is she here?”
“No, we, uh, left her a while back.”
Parker wipes her nose with her sleeve and tries to gain composure. “Yeah, I didn’t disappear. I left that crazy town when I realized what was going on.”
Ms. Perez clears her throat, bringing our attention back to the council who has been watching us with fasc
ination. “As I said, Parker was sick when she arrived. Feverish and confused. The early versions of the stories she told us—about super soldiers and vaccines and genetic mutations sounded straight out of a horror novel.” She grimaces. “Of course nothing we’ve experienced over the last two years feels real.”
“They didn’t believe me,” Parker says. Jude grips her hand tighter.
“No, it’s not that,” Ethan says. “We just wanted to make sure you weren’t still sick or possibly unstable. It was a hard story to believe.”
I step forward and approach the table. “Everything Parker has told you is true. From the coast of Georgia to Ohio there’s been a battle raging on between humans, Eaters and a Hybrid mutation of the two. A vaccine does exist—as well as alterations to it that cause an even bigger danger.”
“A vaccine?” Ethan asks.
“Yes. My sister developed it. It’s real and it works.”
“Where is your sister now?” Ms. Perez asks.
“In New Hope working for Hamilton. He wants a clean vaccine—one that doesn’t lead to the mutations,” I say. “It’s the right thing to do but Hamilton has other ideas that are not in the best interest of our rebuilding society.”
Zoe steps forward. “I know my father wants to open trade with you but you should be wary. He’s a complicated person.”
“Your father is Colonel Hamilton?” Perez asks. Her forehead creases with concern. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“He’s dangerous,” Parker blurts. “It’s why I ran. I needed you to know before you made any arrangements with him. He has plans to restart the government—with himself as the leader.”
“Is that a terrible idea? It sounds like New Hope is doing very well. To make progress we’ll have to have strong leadership,” Ethan says. “It makes sense that he would take that position.”
“He has extreme ideas,” Wyatt says. “About purity and biology. He claims they are for the betterment of society but things aren’t the same as before.”
