The Expedition

by Chris Babu

  Drayden fist-bumped him. “I will, Wes. I love you. I’m making it back.”

  They hugged one last time and headed over to their father, who was chatting with Catrice. When Drayden reached them, both Dad and Catrice smirked.

  “What?” Drayden eyed both suspiciously.

  “Oh, nothing,” Catrice said, pursing her lips, stifling a laugh. “Your dad was saying how even though he’d never met me, he’d heard a lot about me. Because you planned on marrying me.”

  “Dad, no,” Drayden said. “What? Just…oh my God.” He buried his face in his hands.

  Catrice couldn’t contain her laughter.

  CHAPTER 11

  Everyone was shaken by the brief encounters with their families.

  Drayden almost wished he hadn’t seen Wesley and Dad, because leaving them again was so painful. They’d finally begun to adjust to daily life without their families around. It was yet another cruel tactic by the Bureau. Why did they have to do it that way? Their families could have come right after the Initiation.

  The two Guardians escorted them to the open gate in the wall at Pier Fifteen, a few blocks away. The sight offered a view they’d never experienced—the East River at eye level, and straight over it into Brooklyn.

  Their boat bobbed in the water beside the pier. Right past the gate, the dock consisted of seemingly new, reinforced wood. Further out, a few stumps of ancient wood jutted out of the water, where the original pier must have been. Several unfamiliar Guardians were loading supplies onto the boat.

  When Drayden stepped onto the pier, his gaze caught deep, arced grooves in the dock that matched the gate’s trajectory. The gate must have dug those grooves, which struck him as odd. Was this gate used often?

  The air already reeked this close to the East River. Once he walked further onto the pier, the smell punched him in the face like a fist of raw sewage. New America’s human waste was dumped into the East River. Charlie groaned somewhere behind him.

  Drayden stopped abruptly, positive he was about to vomit. He hunched over and braced his hands on his knees, unable to stop gagging.

  “Sweet mercy,” Charlie said. “It smells like a rat died inside of another rat’s rectum. And I’m not even going to crack a rectum joke.”

  Sidney held her nose closed. “How are the Guardians not affected by this?” she said, her voice nasal.

  Catrice covered her mouth with both hands, as if physically holding her breakfast down. She grew paler than usual, something that didn’t seem possible.

  Drayden started moving again. “Breathe through your mouth for a while, until we get used to it,” he said, although he struggled to follow his own advice.

  The four brawny Guardians were crammed inside the boat’s tiny cockpit, huddling over their unfolded map. Captain Lindrick craned his neck and saw the teens. He said a few words to the other Guardians, exited the cockpit, and approached them. “The smell is arresting, isn’t it?”

  “It’s like taking a bath inside a dirty toilet, sir,” Charlie said.

  “Indeed, Private Arnold. Everyone come aboard. Your packs and weapons are already loaded in the stern of the boat. We’ll be off soon. Harris von Brooks will join us shortly to say a few words. Otherwise, make yourselves comfortable. We’ve got a long journey ahead.” He returned to the cockpit.

  “I think it’s time to accept that we’re the privates,” Sidney said. “First we were the pledges; now we’re the privates. When do the four of us not need a group title?”

  The day was overcast and windy, generating little white ripples of foam on the waves in the river. Though tethered, the boat rocked and bounced, periodically slamming into the dock.

  They hadn’t discussed who would be driving the boat. Technically, the privates were in charge, so, in theory, they should be driving. But operating the boat safely could be construed as a method of protection, or service. It didn’t necessarily represent a breach of hierarchy if the Guardians drove. Still, Drayden thought they should discuss it. Captain Lindrick was already sitting in the driver’s seat.

  “This is our first challenge,” Sidney said. “How do we get in the boat?”

  “Charlie,” Catrice said, “can you snag that nearest rope and hold the boat close to the dock?”

  He knelt by the rope. “Yeah, lemme see.”

  Eugene burst out of the cockpit. “Hey, guys! Boy, am I glad to see you. Here, let me give you a hand with that, Charlie.” He grasped the rope from inside the boat and pulled until it slammed into the dock. “I’ll steady it. You guys jump in.”

  Eugene to the rescue.

  Drayden pondered how many times this would happen on the expedition. Given how strong the young man appeared, probably often. Thankfully, Eugene seemed thrilled to see everyone, not just Catrice.

  Charlie and Sidney jumped into the rocking boat and Eugene stabilized them when they landed. Catrice stepped to the edge of the dock.

  Drayden stood close, extending his arms to guide her across.

  “I got it.” She leapt the two-foot gap to the boat.

  Eugene caught her when she landed. “One sec, Drayden,” he said, “let me pull us close again.” He secured the rope and pulled, the tendons in his neck bulging from the exertion.

  With the boat a foot away, Drayden jumped onto the side, and then in, where Eugene steadied him. “Thanks, Eugene.”

  Captain Lindrick popped his head out of the cockpit. “Corporal! Untie all but one rope. Let’s get ready to depart. Lieutenant, give Corporal Austin a hand.”

  “Sir, yes sir!” they both said.

  Drayden didn’t like this one bit. The Premier had put him in charge. “Captain Lindrick,” he said with as much authority as he could muster.

  Lindrick raised his eyebrows.

  Drayden fiddled with the button on his shirt. “Um, should I drive the boat?”

  Lindrick shared a slight chuckle with the other Guardians. “No, no, I think I’ve got it. Why don’t you kids relax in the back and enjoy the ride. We’ll do the heavy lifting. The Bureau piled up some life vests back there if you want to wear them. They make you float if you fall overboard.” He proceeded to make himself comfortable in the driver’s seat.

  The privates settled in the rear around the table. After Eugene finished untying the boat, he headed their way.

  “Corporal!” Captain Lindrick hollered.

  Eugene spun around and joined the Guardians.

  A familiar feeling washed over Drayden. It was the same one that bubbled up as a child when he got in trouble, which wasn’t often. It was a nervous combination of his face overheating and his neck stiffening. While he obviously wasn’t in trouble, something wasn’t right about this whole situation, and his body was trying to let him know.

  Charlie, Sidney, and Catrice were watching him, their faces question marks.

  “No, I’m not happy about this,” Drayden said. He picked up a life vest and examined it before putting it on.

  It was a navy cloth vest, all puffed out in numerous places, appearing to contain empty plastic water bottles inside. He tied it on tight, and the other privates followed suit.

  None of the Guardians wore theirs.

  The hint of a power struggle seemed to be budding between the privates and the Guardians. Or between Drayden and Captain Lindrick. If so, the Guardians and the captain had won before it started.

  Captain Lindrick had asserted his dominance over Drayden with ease. In school, they learned it happened much the same way in nature. A group of male lions would fight each other to lead the pride as alpha male. In schools of fish, one established himself as the leader and the rest fell in line behind him.

  Except, Drayden didn’t even fight. Captain Lindrick was stronger, and he made a show of it. He embarrassed Drayden in front of his friends and the girl he thought was his girlfriend until thirty minutes ago. He didn’t care t
o imagine what Catrice was thinking. Probably that he was a weakling. He should have addressed hierarchy right off the bat with Lindrick. If Drayden had the sponsorship of the Premier, he was in the right here. But the captain was a battle-tested military leader. Apparently, it never crossed his mind to confer with Drayden about who would drive.

  “Looks like everybody is ready to go,” said a man’s voice from the dock, sounding like he had a cold. Harris von Brooks stood beside the boat, wearing a clip that held his nostrils closed.

  The four Guardians exited the cockpit and approached. None of them acknowledged the privates. Greaney and Duarte hadn’t even said hello yet.

  “Mr. von Brooks,” Captain Lindrick said.

  “Captain Lindrick,” von Brooks replied. “I think it’s best if you move along as soon as possible. The weather is unstable. You should complete as much of the journey as possible in daylight.” He pointed to a large secure bin in the stern. “Inside that box, each of you has a backpack that was carefully assembled by the Bureau. It contains food, water, bandages, painkillers, loads of extra ammunition, batteries, rope, flashlights, maps, and other useful items. The maps are very detailed. We added one thing in each pack that may confuse you: a Bureau flag. This is for your return to New America. It is to guarantee you will not be shot by the Guardians, particularly if you dock somewhere other than this pier. As you are all aware, this mission is a secret. The Bureau flag will identify you as friendly. There’s also a white flag for your arrival in Boston. They should recognize it as a sign you are peaceful.”

  Von Brooks regarded the privates with a disapproving sneer. “Now, one final thing. In case any of you are struggling for motivation on this trip, the Premier has come up with the perfect solution. We need you to reach Boston. If you do, your families will be handsomely rewarded. Luxurious apartments normally reserved for Bureau members, and double food allocations for life. That applies to every one of you, including the Guardians.”

  This expedition was suddenly looking up. What was the catch?

  “You must prove you reached Boston. If it is full of people, this will be easy. Bring back the help we seek. If it’s deserted, bring back a relic that could only be found there. Either way, you must prove you made it. Do not test us on this matter.” His nose in the air, he looked directly at Drayden. “For our four young members, we felt you needed additional motivation based on our little conversation the other day.” He paused. “If you fail to reach Boston, your families will return to the Dorms.”

  No!

  Drayden wished he could grab von Brooks by the throat. How could they be so evil?

  The other privates’ faces showed a mix of anguish, fear, and anger.

  “That is all,” von Brooks said smugly. “Good luck.”

  As expected, Captain Lindrick drove erratically at the start, as any of them would have. He needed to motor far away from the coast of New America, over to the east side of the East River, near Brooklyn. The west side of the river was a graveyard of cars from the aftermath of the Confluence. Since the Bureau had deposited all of the city’s cars in the water—a task which employed many people and took years to complete—they were piled up on the west side of the river.

  Eventually Lindrick figured out how to drive, and they headed north. They crossed the ruins of the Brooklyn Bridge, the Manhattan Bridge, and the Williamsburg Bridge. The Bureau had blown up those bridges during the Confluence, when the quarantine went into effect. After it became clear the quarantine was permanent, the Bureau destroyed most other bridges too. Some remained, such as the Henry Hudson Bridge at the top of the city where the Bureau dumped the exiled.

  As they approached the intact Fifty-Ninth Street Bridge, the sewage smell all but vanished. Nobody lived this far north in New America. Drayden located his pack and removed the big map to track their location. Fine, Captain Lindrick could do the driving. He wasn’t about to leave the navigation up to the Guardians.

  Despite his mood about von Brooks’s new “motivation,” being out on the water on a boat was the coolest thing Drayden had ever experienced. He was out in the real world.

  Gliding through the water, the wind blowing in his eyes, felt like flying. Between the roar of the engines and the frothy wake they generated, riding in the boat was loud. East River water periodically sprayed them, which was totally gross considering the water quality. Regardless, it was a new experience.

  Drayden tracked their progress by correlating observed landmarks with the map, using an actual ink pen the Bureau had included in his pack.

  They passed to the east of Roosevelt Island, a narrow enclave in the East River, which once housed a small community of New Yorkers. A giant hospital crumbled on its northern border to the boat’s left, while the borough of Queens ran along the right side.

  It reminded Drayden of his mother, who grew up in Flushing, Queens. She was Maya Song back then, not yet Maya Coulson. At the tender age of thirteen, she’d taken a rowboat on these very waters with her big brother Dan to enter Manhattan under the cover of darkness. They’d sneaked in after the quarantine went into effect during the Confluence. It was assumed all life outside the wall succumbed to Aeru afterward. Now they would find out for sure.

  When they sailed east of Randall’s Island, they officially left New America behind. It disappeared from view as they passed beneath the barely standing RFK Bridge. Both towers of the suspension bridge stood, but one leaned precariously forward, and a primary suspension cable had broken off.

  So far, the Guardians were following the correct path. According to the map, the islet on the right was Rikers Island, an ancient prison notorious for its violence. The barbed wire fencing surrounding it was missing or rusted away in many places.

  “Whoa, look at that!” Sidney jumped to her feet.

  Drayden couldn’t believe his eyes. “Holy shkat.”

  In the distance, the entire tail section of a passenger airplane, a jumbo jet, jutted out of the water. Though green algae or mold covered it, you could tell it was originally white. Past that, the ruins of other large planes lay scattered on a runway, some appearing to have crashed into each other.

  He checked off LaGuardia Airport on his map.

  After breezing past the Whitestone Bridge, the boat slowed as they approached the Throgs Neck Bridge, which formerly connected the Bronx to northeast Queens. While the two towers remained, the roadway had plunged into the water. Captain Lindrick eased off the motor, and they floated over the barnacle-covered asphalt, which was mere feet beneath the surface.

  They took a sharp left. Shortly thereafter, they passed City Island in the Bronx, and then Hart Island.

  Drayden noted them on the map.

  The Guardians had successfully negotiated most of the tricky initial navigation. Now that they’d entered Long Island Sound, the next several hours of travel would be in a straight line. They would cruise between the north shore of Long Island and south shore of Connecticut. Eventually, Connecticut would give way to Rhode Island, and then Massachusetts. It seemed simple enough. Once darkness fell, however, navigation would become infinitely more complex.

  Although they motored in Long Island Sound, protected from the open Atlantic Ocean by Long Island, the waves surged. Their tiny boat rocked further and further, bouncing off each swell.

  Drayden felt the first tinge of nausea. It lasted only a second, but for that moment he was sure he was going to lose his breakfast.

  Catrice and Charlie both turned green. They remained still, as if not to amplify the already dramatic motion of the boat.

  According to the map, the distance between the Connecticut and Long Island shores varied between five and ten miles. Captain Lindrick drove much closer to the Connecticut shore, albeit nearly a half mile off.

  Drayden remembered his true mission. He hadn’t the slightest idea how to assist with the overthrow of the Bureau, how to gather an army, or even more si
mply, to determine if anyone was alive outside New America’s walls. But one thing was certain—he couldn’t do anything at such a distance. They needed to hug the Connecticut coast much closer.

  It was time for him to start directing this mission. He’d deferred to Lindrick too much already. He stood, taking a full minute to get his balance, and shuffled to the cockpit.

  “Captain!” Drayden yelled so Lindrick could hear him over the wind, waves, and engine. “We need to sail closer to the Connecticut coast on our left. We need to watch for signs of life.”

  The captain didn’t respond.

  “Captain!” Drayden shouted again, louder.

  Lieutenant Duarte chuckled a bit, shaking his head. He drew his glistening hunting knife, smooth on one side and serrated on the other. He polished it with a rag while glowering at Drayden.

  What the hell?

  Drayden glanced back.

  The other privates were scrutinizing him with concerned faces.

  “Captain Lindrick!” he screamed.

  Lindrick turned his head back, visibly annoyed. “Go have a seat in the back, son.”

  CHAPTER 12

  The silence around the table in the back of the boat was deafening.

  Captain Lindrick had ordered Drayden to sit down, and he did. He didn’t take charge. He put his tail between his legs and got owned by the captain all over again.

  “What is going on?” Sidney asked. “This isn’t what we signed up for.”

  “I don’t know,” Drayden said. “I gave Captain Lindrick a direct order and he laughed and told me to sit down. After he ignored me for a while. That freaking Duarte shkat starts polishing his knife in front of me, trying to intimidate me. I mean, what am I supposed to do?”