The Expedition

by Chris Babu

  “Let’s go, guys,” he said, wearing the defeat on his face.

  He turned to lead the way out, only to find two barrels of a shotgun in his grill.

  “Hold it right there, son.”

  Drayden froze and raised his hands in the air.

  The old man’s short gray hair and leathery skin were reminiscent of Premier Eli Holst, and they appeared around the same age. Despite his elderliness, the man’s eyes were clear and alert. “Let me see everyone’s hands,” he said, speaking with proper grammar and no peculiar accent.

  Drayden’s pulse quickened. They unequivocally didn’t have time for another hostage situation. He was in front, so he couldn’t see the other privates or Eugene.

  The old guy rotated the barrels of the shotgun to his left, away from Drayden’s head. “I said, put your hands up,” he said to someone behind Drayden.

  Drayden took a quick peek.

  Sidney, Catrice, and Charlie held their hands high.

  Eugene did not. He stood defiantly. “No.”

  The old man seemed perplexed. “This is your last chance, son. Put ‘em up or I’m going to shoot.”

  “No, you won’t,” Eugene said emphatically.

  Has he lost his mind?

  “Um, Euge?” Charlie mumbled.

  The old man raised his eyebrows, now apparently intrigued. “Is that right? Why not?”

  “Because you’re a dead man if you shoot, and I don’t think you want to die,” Eugene stated. “There’re five of us. We’re all armed. That’s a simple double-barrel shotgun you have there. You could shoot one or two of us before you’d have to reload. Your head would be full of bullets by then.”

  The old man’s mouth curled up a tad into a faint smile. “You might be right. But you’re the one I’m going to shoot. You’ll die too.”

  “Then do it.” Eugene’s piercing blue eyes bored holes in the man.

  Drayden shook his head in awe. Eugene truly was like Rambo, once again demonstrating why a young corporal was selected for this mission ahead of more senior volunteers. He was so brave, so tough, so skilled, and insanely bright. While he’d won the gun chess-match with the old man, the whole interaction was unnecessary. It didn’t have to be a battle.

  Drayden dropped his arms. “Sir, we’re peaceful. We’re sorry we’re in your barn.” He extended his hand. “I’m Drayden.”

  Eugene groaned.

  The man regarded him for a few seconds and lowered his shotgun. He shook Drayden’s hand. “Professor Alan Worth. May I ask what you are doing here, on my property?”

  Drayden took a deep breath. “You got a few minutes?”

  He gave Professor Worth the three-minute summary: New America’s situation, the expedition, the Guardians, Camp Gabriel, the slaughtered village, and their urgent need for speedier transportation.

  “Sounds like you have a real problem.” The professor leaned against a wooden post.

  The other privates and Eugene huddled around Drayden now.

  “Yeah, you could say that,” Drayden said.

  “Dray, we gotta move,” Eugene said.

  Professor Worth rubbed his chin. “One quick question. Do you have any food you can spare?”

  “No,” Eugene blurted.

  Drayden scowled at him. “Yes. Well, here’s what we have. One loaf of bread, one head of lettuce, and we each have half a sausage. That’s the first food we’ve had in two days, and we’re rationing it. We’re happy to share, though.”

  “May I have the loaf of bread?”

  Eugene snickered.

  Drayden snatched the plastic bag from behind Charlie’s back, and handed him the loaf.

  The man took it, smiled, and handed it back to him. “Thank you, Drayden. I don’t want it, but I wanted to know if you would give it to me. If you wait here for a minute, I’ll bring something that may assist you.” He strolled to the front of the barn, opened the door, and headed for the main house.

  Drayden locked eyes with Eugene. Although Eugene may have been tough as nails and the bravest guy in the world, all they needed to do was be friendly to the man.

  Eugene was antsy, chewing on his lower lip. “This is taking way too long. We can still beat the Guardians. We gotta hustle.”

  Sidney squinted, attempting to view the farmhouse. “Maybe he’s fetching us bicycles. He said he’d bring something that would help us.”

  Professor Worth returned, carrying a white plastic bag. He handed it to Drayden. It was full of vegetables—carrots, peppers, celery, and string beans.

  “Thanks a lot, Professor, that’s very generous of you.” Drayden shook his hand once more.

  A little kindness goes a long way, Drayden thought as he turned to leave. He couldn’t hide his disappointment though. The expedition was over. A bag of vegetables was a nice consolation, and sure would taste delicious. But they simply couldn’t catch the Guardians. He walked toward the barn’s back door, deflated.

  “Drayden?” the professor asked.

  He spun around.

  “The veggies aren’t what I was talking about when I said I would bring something that might help.”

  “Sir?”

  He held a set of keys in his hand, dangling them in the air.

  Drayden eyed the beat-up Jaguar on cinderblocks. Was this some sort of sick joke?

  Professor Worth tilted his head. “Don’t you want a ride?”

  “Whoa, this guy’s not playing with a full deck,” Charlie whispered. “I think he’s going to take us for a pretend ride in the Jaguar. We’ll sit inside and he’ll go ‘vroom, vroom.’”

  Professor Worth went to say something but pressed his lips together. “Follow me. Very carefully, single file. Do not deviate from my path.” He led them out the front of the barn and through an empty field, stopping at an unpainted wood shed on the verge of collapse. Before opening it, he paused before the privates and Eugene, like he was about to begin a one-man show.

  He parted the doors and stepped off to the side, gesturing inside the shed, a sly smile on his face.

  Drayden’s heart skipped a beat.

  Massive tires. Mounted spotlights. A hulking, mean-looking green truck stood inside.

  Drayden held his Yankees cap in his hand so it wouldn’t blow off in the wind. The afternoon sun shone in his eyes, making him squint. The truck was a “Jeep,” and instead of windows or a roof, it sported a “roll bar,” according to Professor Worth.

  The wind blasted Drayden’s face in bursts, blowing his hair back. Zooming in the Jeep was a thrill.

  In reality, they weren’t going that fast. Vegetation, including trees, covered Route 53 in many places. They bumped and flew through the air, and skidded, and swerved. It was a blast. Professor Worth had clearly done a lot of driving. Charlie rode up front, with everyone else squeezed in the back. Drayden sat on one end next to Sidney, then Eugene and Catrice on the other side. Charlie had asked if he could drive, as expected, but the professor shot him down. Laughed at him, in fact.

  Drayden had checked the map before they left. “Professor Worth, after Route 53, can you take Route 3a, then I-93?”

  “Yes. I know the way.”

  “Drop us off right at the intersection of 3a and 93.”

  Professor Worth turned his head back and raised his eyebrows. “Not into Boston?”

  “No.”

  Sidney squeezed Drayden’s leg. “Why not straight into Boston?”

  “Because we’re making a stand against the Guardians.”

  Nobody knew what Boston was like. It could be a police state, where the Guardians would command a lot more respect than five teenagers. If both groups arrived in Boston, it could devolve into a he-said she-said situation. That could be true even if the privates arrived first. What if Boston enforced a quarantine period? Arriving a few hours before the Guardians would pr
ove meaningless. If the Guardians beat them, they might be shut out of Boston entirely, with their families paying the price.

  Yet it was beyond logistics. The Guardians were evil, and barbaric. They needed to be stopped. Someone had to shut down their crusade of cruelty. There was no limit to how far the Guardians would go to destroy him. He would destroy them first. Except he wasn’t sure he could or would actually kill them.

  Something struck Drayden. The Guardians weren’t on this mission to escort the privates. It was the other way around. The privates’ presence was to ensure the Guardians reached Boston. But why?

  “We’ll be on the outskirts of Boston, near Dorchester,” Drayden said. “Far enough away that nobody from the city will interfere.”

  Eugene grinned. “Now you’re talkin’.”

  Catrice leaned forward. “Professor Worth, are there people in Boston?”

  “Yes. I don’t know much about it. I’ve never been there.”

  “Why don’t you live there?” Drayden asked. “And how are you alive?”

  “Natural immunity to Aeru,” Professor Worth answered. “I don’t know why, though. Most of the people who survived had some sort of immunity. I used to be a math professor at MIT. Originally, I avoided the quarantine because I didn’t want my fate to be decided by a bunch of incompetent politicians. Not to mention a closed-off society is ripe for government brainwashing, corruption, propaganda. I didn’t realize how serious the Confluence was until it was too late. I was shut out of the city. After that, I assumed I would die, as my wife did, but I never got sick. If I had known my wife would die, I would have stayed in Boston. I did try entering ages ago and was turned away. I never went back.”

  Drayden recalled Kim’s claims about the Bureau. They controlled information. It was becoming clear that nobody outside the Bureau likely knew the truth about New America.

  Professor Worth slammed the brakes, and everyone flew forward. He drove around a fallen tree on the road.

  “Sorry about that.”

  Eugene took in the scenery outside the Jeep. He appeared disinterested in learning more about the world outside the walls, or Professor Worth. He and the professor hadn’t quite recovered from their standoff earlier, and had yet to speak to each other.

  Professor Worth continued. “You see, I’ve come to understand the Confluence. It had to happen. Humanity was on a crash course with self-destruction. If it wasn’t super bacteria, or inequality, or cyberterrorism, it would have been nuclear weapons, climate change, or something else. The Earth and humans needed a fresh start.”

  Charlie tapped the professor on the arm. “How do you avoid getting robbed by bad guys like the ones we ran into at Camp Gabriel and the cannibals?”

  Professor Worth bellowed a deep old-man laugh. “That would be a long conversation. The short version? Weapons, safe rooms. My whole property is booby-trapped. It’s a miracle you kids didn’t get injured running to my barn. Many people have died over the years trying to steal from me. Over time you learn how to coexist. People learned the hard way not to mess with my property, and then learned to work with me. I’m familiar with Gabriel’s camp. I even have some deals with them. They’re a violent group. You were lucky to escape.”

  Charlie leaned his head back. “Saved by Eugene.”

  Professor Worth regarded Eugene through a small mirror that hung up front. “Ah yes, Eugene. I like him. Very brave, very clever. Watch out for that one.”

  Eugene revealed nothing. He chewed on his bottom lip so hard it trickled blood.

  Professor Worth seemed excited to have people with whom to speak, to teach, and to help. “The Confluence brought out the worst in everyone. Gabriel was probably a nice guy, like a pharmacist, Pre-Confluence. Given how tenuous daily survival is out here, now he’s a savage leader.”

  The road became clearer, and Professor Worth sped up. “You kids are too young to know, but the Confluence didn’t happen on one day. It’s not as if God snapped his fingers and humans disappeared. People died slowly, one region at a time. The world spent much time in chaos, disarray, lawlessness. People robbed homes of neighbors who died; they murdered people who had things they desired. Of course, what was valuable Pre-Confluence and what was worthless reversed. People stole the wrong things. Money, cars, electronics like smartphones, and jewelry all became worthless. Pots, matches, medicine, and water became the new gold. Guns became diamonds.”

  Their surroundings became increasingly commercial and residential.

  “We’re on Route 3a, now,” Professor Worth said.

  “Ah, one of my favorite roads,” Charlie said. “Wolves.”

  Professor Worth looked puzzled. “What was that?”

  “Watch out for wolves. They love Route 3a.”

  “How do you have a working car?” Drayden asked.

  “It’s my hobby, fixing up cars.”

  Drayden snickered. “We tried to fix up a car from a dealership, but it didn’t work.”

  “If you had a year, you wouldn’t have gotten it working. Fuel is the major problem. My cars run on ethanol. I make it myself from my corn. Modifying the engine to run on ethanol is fairly simple.”

  Drayden wished he could spend more time with Professor Worth. In addition to being knowledgeable, he was a survivor. He’d figured out how to thrive in the wild all on his own. Drayden could learn a lot from him. He’d also make quite an asset against the Bureau.

  Sidney placed her hand on Drayden’s thigh and gently interlocked her fingers with his.

  He squeezed back.

  Professor Worth drove onto an extended overpass above the streets below. It became a narrow bridge that crossed over a river.

  “This is the Neponset River,” Professor Worth said. “Almost there.”

  The road curved down to the right and ran alongside an elevated roadway. They drove up a ramp and onto the highway.

  The skyscrapers of Boston emerged in the distance.

  This was it. I-93.

  Professor Worth stopped the car.

  Drayden touched him on the shoulder from behind. “Professor…thank you, from the bottom of my heart. We may still fail, but now we have a chance.” He started to ask if he could come visit in the future, after Boston, before remembering he had no future.

  The professor nodded. “You’re welcome. This was the most interesting day I’ve had in years. Good luck to you all.”

  “You got a plan?” Charlie asked Drayden.

  “Nope.”

  Eugene cocked his pistol. “Here’s my plan.”

  CHAPTER 29

  The late afternoon sun glistened off the skyscrapers in the distance, making them glow.

  Boston’s skyline was much smaller than New America’s, as if all but a few tall buildings had fallen.

  Drayden examined I-93 in both directions.

  It wasn’t as damaged as other roads, resembling an actual highway, probably because it was elevated. A few industrial buildings lined the streets below. Roughly a half mile to the south, the vegetation exploded, as if Mother Nature had vomited.

  If a brilliant plot lay dormant somewhere inside Drayden’s brain, now would be an opportune time to pop it out. Unfortunately, nothing came to him. He hadn’t the faintest idea how they would defeat the Guardians. Suddenly a two-hour head start seemed piddling.

  Sidney coughed. “I know we have stuff to do, but I’m dying of thirst.”

  “Me too,” Charlie said. “My mouth’s so dry I’m spitting cotton.”

  Drayden glimpsed south down the highway, away from the city, toward the vegetation. “Let’s walk down there.” Hopefully something they saw would trigger an idea for the upcoming battle.

  They hopped the cement divider between the northbound and southbound lanes. Drayden and Sidney led the way down the gentle slope of the southbound lanes.

  “Let’s be on alert in
case I’m wrong about our lead over the Guardians,” Drayden said. “I believe we’re around two hours ahead, but it’d be pathetic if we got surprised by them.”

  “Are we sure fighting them is the right move?” Catrice asked, avoiding eye contact with Drayden.

  “Absolutely,” Eugene said. “This must be done.”

  “I think there’s too much uncertainty about what would happen if both groups arrived in Boston,” said Drayden. “What if they believed the Guardians over us?”

  In the heart of the vegetation eruption, they crossed over the Neponset River. To the right of the highway, a five-story office building sat alone on the river’s bank, surrounded by marshland. The wide structure consisted of brown stone with black windows.

  A green sign over the highway indicated an exit lay ahead for Granite Avenue, Ashmont. Exit 11b.

  Drayden pulled out his map of Boston. “This is the Neponset River Reservation. I guess that’s why it’s so…nature-y here. Let’s take this exit ramp on the right up ahead.”

  The exit ramp ran downhill and curved to the right, turning 180 degrees until they were facing north again at the bottom. It deposited them right in front of that office building on Granite Avenue, which ran parallel to the elevated I-93. A sign read “2 Granite Avenue.” Although the parking lot was heavily overgrown, the building appeared in decent shape. Even the windows were intact. Marshland and trees surrounded the building and the parking lot, with I-93 rising above it in the back.

  A much larger marsh, a swamp overflowing with tall reeds and wild plants, occupied the other side of Granite Avenue. Water, presumably the Neponset River, meandered deep in the marsh.

  Drayden digested the landscape. “Anyone ever been in a swamp before?”