The Survivalist

by Arthur T. Bradley

  She skipped forward to draw up alongside him as they crossed the empty parking lot in front of Mount Weather’s Headquarters.

  “Did she say why?”

  “No.” He lowered his voice and looked around. “But she wasn’t happy.”

  Issa’s gut clenched. Mother must have found out about Tanner’s impregnation of the infected widows. But how? Surely, none of the women would have revealed such a secret. Perhaps one had let it slip to a friend, and from her to another, and so on. Benjamin Franklin’s saying that “Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead,” had proven right yet again.

  Now that she knew, what would Mother do? She had certainly proven herself capable of using violence to enforce her rule, but short of murder, there was little that could be done. Babies were innocent gifts to the world, and Mother understood that better than anyone. It seemed inconceivable that she would harm them, no matter what their lineage.

  That, of course, didn’t preclude her from exacting justice on those responsible for the transgression, Issa being at the head of the line.

  She steeled herself for whatever punishment Mother might decide to dole out. The decision to spread Tanner’s seed among the women was not one she had taken lightly. If there were to be repercussions, she would suffer them with her head held high. Some causes required sacrifices.

  Musketeer escorted her into the building but stopped outside the door to Mother’s room. He gave it a quick rap with his knuckles. After a slight delay, they heard Mother say, “Enter.”

  “Go,” Musketeer said, pushing open the door. “Don’t keep her waiting.”

  “You’re not coming?”

  He shook his head. “She asked to speak only to you.”

  Issa took a breath and advanced into the room, tall and proud. Mother might be their colony’s ruler, but she was just a woman, no more or less than any other. As such, she should understand Issa’s decision to help the colony’s women experience the magic of childbirth. And if she didn’t, so be it.

  As she entered, Issa saw a man exiting through a door on the opposite side of the room. He was tall and trimmed with lean, well-defined muscle. His disfigurement from the pox had been limited to his joints, leaving them bulging in a way that made him appear almost insect-like. She recognized him immediately as Mother’s third in command, General Gaius. Issa knew little about him other than that he was a quiet, secretive man who took care of her most sensitive matters.

  “Issa,” Mother said in a soft voice, “please come in.”

  As she approached, Issa studied her face. Mother was not angry. If anything, she seemed morose, as if having just heard that an old friend had passed.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  Mother let out a long slow breath.

  “No, dear, I fear that it is not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A short time ago, I received news that we lost contact with the helicopter carrying your husband and daughter.”

  Issa’s gut clenched. “What!”

  “The pilot radioed that there was some kind of emergency, and we’ve been unable to raise him since.”

  Her mind racing, Issa said, “He could have simply put down somewhere.”

  “If that were the case, why wouldn’t he have called in?”

  “Maybe he was hurt. Or the helicopter damaged.”

  She offered an understanding nod. “Perhaps.”

  “You don’t know that they crashed. You don’t!” Even Issa could hear the desperation in her voice.

  “You’re right. I don’t. But I think we must both accept the possibility that the pilot was unable to land safely.”

  They looked at one another for a long time before either spoke again.

  “Where did it happen?” Issa said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “We don’t know precisely, but it was very close to their destination.”

  “I have to go and find them.” Issa turned toward the door.

  “Issa.”

  She paused and looked back at Mother.

  “I would ask that you think this through. With so little to go on, chances are that you would never locate the crash site, certainly not on foot and in your condition.”

  “Even so, I have to try.”

  “I understand. I do. But consider the two possible scenarios. If your husband and daughter survived, they will return only to find you missing.”

  “But—”

  “And if they didn’t,” continued Mother, “you’ll be putting your baby at risk for nothing.” She shook her head. “Your place is here with us, at least until we know more.”

  Issa said nothing as she weighed the merits of Mother’s words. No matter how hard she tried to refute them, she knew them to be right.

  “This tragedy may have other effects as well,” said Mother.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m worried that Tanner’s plan to avoid war with the New Colony might be over before it had chance to take root.”

  “His plan?” she barked. “My husband and daughter are missing, and that’s what worries you!”

  One of the troglodytes at Mother’s side stepped forward, his face becoming uglier than its usual grotesqueness. It was then that Issa noticed her knife bandolier hanging from his shoulder. What the hell was he doing with it?

  “Hold,” Mother said, stretching an arm out in front of him. “Our beloved Issa is understandably upset, and you will not raise a hand against her.”

  The troglodyte gurgled something unintelligible as he slowly retreated.

  Mother turned back to Issa. “Unfortunately, my dear, I do not have the luxury of worrying over one or two lost souls. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t understand your suffering. There can be no greater loss than that of a child.”

  “I don’t need your understanding,” she snapped. “I need a search party.”

  “I’m sorry, dear. That’s simply not possible with the limited resources we have left.”

  Issa’s hand went to the bulge of her stomach.

  “But without your help, Tanner may never get to see the birth of his baby.”

  “Your husband strikes me as a man who would not allow anything to come between him and the ones he loves. Am I right about that?”

  “More than you could ever know.”

  “Then believe in him. If he and Samantha are alive, they will find their way back to you.”

  Issa’s eyes clouded with tears. Sitting and waiting was not something she did well.

  “Fine,” she breathed. “But if they haven’t returned in three days, I’ll go looking for them. And nothing you say or do will stop me.”

  “I understand.” Mother took a moment to choose her words. “Given that you will be with us for a few more days, I wonder if you might do something for me.”

  Mother wasn’t one to ask for favors. She gave orders. Something was happening that Issa didn’t fully understand.

  “What?”

  Instead of answering, Mother said, “Do you believe in coincidence?”

  Issa shrugged. “Sometimes. Why?”

  “I find it particularly odd that the one mission that might have prevented war between our people and the New Colony failed so quickly.”

  Issa’s eyes narrowed. “You think this was intentional.”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. That’s why I asked General Gaius to look into the matter.”

  Issa glanced at the door through which the general had exited, and said, “I don’t trust him.”

  “Gaius is a good man, loyal to a fault.”

  “But?”

  A thin smile touched Mother’s lips.

  “Even a loyal general is never as thorough as a determined mother.”

  “You want me to find out what happened?”

  “It would give you something to do while you waited. Besides, I think finding out what happened would be in both our interests.”

  Issa took a moment to consider the request. There was no
thing in the world she wanted more than to hold Tanner and Samantha in her arms, but punishing those responsible for an attack on her family drew a close second.

  “I’d need to be free to move about and ask questions.”

  Mother nodded. “I’ll make sure you have the freedom to go anywhere you wish.”

  Issa motioned to the door behind which Musketeer stood.

  “No babysitters tagging along, either.”

  “You will answer only to me.”

  Issa rubbed her stomach. “People are going to notice this. What do you want me to say?”

  “I’ve come to accept that your condition cannot, and perhaps should not, be kept a secret. All I would ask is that you consider the feelings of our brave men when questioned about your pregnancy.”

  “Of course, I will. Many of them are friends of mine.”

  Mother’s willingness to let others know that infected women, other than herself, could become pregnant was an important first step. Later, when some of the women who had visited Tanner began to show, the entire colony would have to accept that it wasn’t the women who had become infertile; it was the men. No doubt, that would lead to some very difficult conversations, perhaps even to marriages between the infected and uninfected, as women sought to have families of their own flesh and blood.

  Mother turned to one of the guards and said, “Give her back her knives.”

  The troglodyte stepped forward and handed Issa the bandolier. She quickly hooked it around her chest and slid one of the knives free to test it with her thumb. The blade remained as sharp as a surgeon’s scalpel.

  Issa looked up at Mother. “You may come to regret turning me loose on this.”

  “If someone is indeed responsible for the crash, you deserve to know why. I would, however, ask one thing.”

  “Which is?”

  “Don’t confront anyone directly. I promised your husband that I’d watch over you, and I don’t want to be the one to have to tell him that you were injured or killed. The knives have been returned only so that you can defend yourself. Do we understand each other?”

  “If I can’t exact my revenge, what good is this to me?”

  “You will have your revenge, but only after I have had a chance to get answers. I fear there may be more at work here than we imagine.”

  It was unclear whether Mother was more worried about what Tanner might do, or what the conspirators might be plotting. Forces appeared to be working against her rule, and that was never something a monarch wanted to discover.

  Issa offered a short nod. “Fine, but you should know that I’ve never been a woman who can control my anger.”

  “Which is why you have always been one of my favorites. Do be careful though. Not only will you be investigating their crime, you will be the posterchild for those who argue that the community’s survival is dependent on peace with our uninfected neighbors.”

  Issa studied Mother’s face. “Is that something you believe?”

  “All that matters to me is that the children, whether they be yours or mine, be free of persecution. If we can achieve that through peace, then I embrace it.”

  “And if we can’t?”

  Mother pressed her lips together. “Then I will have to call upon men like Korn.”

  Chapter 7

  Tanner and Samantha arrived at the swinging metal gate. It had been chained shut in an attempt to keep weekend partiers out of the quarry. Based on the seemingly endless number of beer cans they had passed on their way out, that effort had been in vain.

  A red and white sign hung from the gate that read “Bullitt County Stone.” Beyond it, a two-lane road went left and right. Directly across the street were two huge hangars with ten-foot-high stacks of metal rafters out front.

  Samantha climbed over the gate and walked out into the road, first looking one way and then the other. Besides overgrown pastures and the occasional barn, there wasn’t much to see.

  “What do you think?” she asked. “Left or right?”

  “We need to head west.”

  “Well yeah, but in case you didn’t notice, we don’t have a compass.” She shielded her eyes and looked up at the sun. “It’s so high in the sky that I can’t tell which way it’s going.”

  “More than one way to find north.” Tanner looked at his watch again, this time holding his wrist out so that the face sat level with the ground. He slowly turned until the hour hand lined up with the sun.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Old sailor’s trick.”

  “Your watch can act as a compass?”

  “More or less.” He put his finger on the watch face. “Start by pointing the hour hand in the direction of the sun.”

  She moved closer to get a better look.

  “Once you’ve got that lined up, bisect the angle between the hour hand and the number twelve.”

  “Bisect means cut in half, right?”

  “That, or a cult of the sexually undecided.”

  Samantha raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

  “Never mind. What matters is that the bisector points south.”

  “Perfectly south?”

  “No, but good enough.”

  “Cool.”

  “So, Magellan, which way do we go?”

  Moving back out into the road, she faced north and slowly rotated clockwise, saying, “Never… eat… soggy… watermelon.” West aligned almost perfectly with the left-most path. “We go that way.”

  “Correct,” he said, starting down the long stretch of faded asphalt.

  Samantha did a little hop and a skip to catch up with him, obviously pleased with her newfound navigating skills.

  “How’d you learn so many useful tricks anyway?”

  He shrugged. “Picked them up here and there, I guess.”

  “You didn’t have a mentor? That means teacher, by the way, not a type of mint.”

  “Nope. Just me against the world.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re my mentor.” She thought for a moment. “Do you have much left to teach me, or are you about all out?”

  He smiled, amused by her unique way of looking at the world.

  “A wise man once said that there are no wise men, only fools in search of wisdom.”

  “Um-hmm,” she said with an eye roll. “That’s what I thought.”

  They continued along the two-lane road, walking down the center line, partly because the grass on either side was nearly waist-high, and partly because the warmth of the asphalt was particularly welcome after their unexpected swim. Thanks to the sun and a steady breeze, it didn’t take long for their clothes to dry and their mouths to become parched.

  Samantha said, “I’m getting a little thirsty.”

  “We’ll find something before long.”

  “And if we don’t?”

  “Then I get to show you more of those tricks I’m so famous for.”

  “Okay, but absolutely no drinking of pee, and if we must gather water with our socks, we use mine. Yours are…” she wrinkled her nose, “you know, funky.”

  He grinned. “Can’t argue with that.”

  A mile or so later, they came to a four-way intersection. The road branching left led to an old brick house situated at the end of a long cul-de-sac. The other directions had nothing but pastures and untended farmland for as far as the eye could see.

  Tanner gestured toward the house. “What do you say we go and see if anyone’s home? Worst case, we can get a little something to drink from the water heater.”

  “Assuming someone hasn’t already emptied it.”

  “Even if they did, there might still be a little something left in the house pipes.”

  She nodded. Draining water pipes was simple but required a little knowledge of the process. In the case of a two-story home, upper floor spigots had to be opened first, followed by the ones on the lower floor. Even a single-story home might yield a half a gallon of water. Not enough to take a bath in, but plenty to wet their whistles.

  T
hey started down the narrow county road, stepping around potholes filled with uneven clumps of fresh black asphalt. As they neared the end of the cul-de-sac, they noticed activity around the house. Three men were circling on foot, trying the doors and windows, while a fourth man leaned against a beat-up Toyota pickup parked along the curb. Two horses stood in a corral at the back of the house, watching the men warily.

  Tanner and Samantha stepped off the road and took a knee in the deep grass.

  “Looks like someone beat us to it,” she said.

  “Problem is the place isn’t empty.”

  She nodded. “You know that because of the horses.”

  “They wouldn’t have made it long without food and water.”

  “What do we do?”

  Tanner studied the men. None of them appeared to be armed, which was a pleasant surprise, given the violent state of the world.

  “Maybe if we run them off, the owner will be grateful enough to feed us lunch.”

  “You’re going to fight four men for lunch?”

  “I’ve fought men for less.” Tanner stood up. “Stay put while I go say hello.”

  “Okay, but remember, I don’t have my rifle.”

  “We won’t need it.”

  Tanner made it all the way to the pickup truck without being detected. The man he took to be the driver was on the opposite side, leaning against the fender. He stood, bent at the waist, clutching his gut as if he had gotten a hold of some bad clams. He looked to be in his late twenties, with long black hair and a soft goatee. His boyish face reminded Tanner of the English musician and songwriter Peter Doherty.

  There were probably ten ways to put him down, but Tanner decided to be merciful. The poor fellow was clearly having a bad day already.

  Instead of stepping around the front of the truck and clocking him, Tanner reached out and pulled him back across the hood. The motion caught Doherty by surprise, and he barely managed a gasp before Tanner dumped him face first onto the asphalt. A good sharp blow to the back of the neck did the rest. It was over in less than four seconds. Not quite a personal record, but close.

  Tanner pulled off the man’s boots and socks and used the shoelaces to tie his hands behind his back. Never to leave things unfinished, he tossed the boots in opposite directions and stuffed one of the socks into the man’s mouth.