by Alice Sabo
A CRACK OF THUNDER made Bridget jump. She’d know the storm was coming. The trees had been wind-tossed before the sun went down behind a bank of black clouds, so they knew something was coming. She hated storms that came in the night. They couldn’t see the extent of it which made that kind of weather all the more dangerous.
After a dinner of thinned Stew-goo, she’d spent some time in the library, reading a dog-eared copy of an old mystery novel for the third time. Wind tossed debris against the window and whistled around the corner of the building for hours. Then the sound of the storm started building, and she knew she wasn’t going to get any sleep. She went down to the foyer to see if she was needed anywhere.
The glass front of the building was rattling under a barrage of hail by the time she got there. Chunks of ice the size of marbles bounced across the ground. Someone banged the alarm. It was just steel against steel, but the sound carried far enough to pull everyone in. She pushed the door open for two soldiers running across the lawn. The wind snatched at her hair, tangling it and pushing it across her eyes. Hail slammed against her. The two ran past her with a shout of thanks.
“Damn that hurts! Am I bleeding?” Jace said brushing ice crystals out of his buzz cut.
Bridget laughed at him. “It’s only hail.”
“Felt lethal to me!” He grinned at her, green eyes bright with mirth.
Another crack of thunder made all of them flinch. The door clanged open as two more soldiers ran in out of the storm. Hail pounded down, drumming so loudly that she didn’t hear the arrival of a messenger.
A whistle split the din, drawing all their attention. “Secure the building,” the messenger yelled over the sound of the storm.
Bridget headed for her assigned section in the loading dock. When weather precluded a patrol, they prepared for infiltration...that never came. She wondered what would happen if they really were attacked. They had drilled at defense for so long that she worried they’d overreact if finally given a chance to fight.
She joined the rest of her crew at the access corridor to the loading docks on the lowest above-ground level of the building. There were eight of them to watch this spot. Over the years, they had built a labyrinth of desks and cabinets to stall any attackers. There were couches and tables back here where they normally spent their time when on duty.
General Dunham made sure that shifts were short and varied. People worked at any and all tasks unless they were especially bad at something. Jace wasn’t allowed to cook, so he always ended up doing clean-up. The man could burn water.
Bridget picked up a shirt out of the mending basket. There were two people on her shift, three on the night shift and one on evening that did mending. They had run out of uniforms years ago and had saved what was left of them for armbands. Foragers brought in whatever they could find in the way of clothing, blankets or food. It was hit or miss. She had gotten used to seeing the soldiers in weird combinations of clothing, jeans or pink pants or the blue shirts they found in a post office. It only mattered that they were clean and neat, and everyone had an official armband.
The drumming of the hail seemed to mute the thunder, or maybe it was just moving away. She tied off a piece of thread and examined the repair she’d finished. It was stronger than the rest of the garment, another piece of clothing worn thin. Every year they had to go further away to find what they needed. Every year they need more clothing and food and soap. Their vehicles needed replacement parts, and they were very low on ammunition. Now the crews sent out were gone overnight. For no reason that she could understand, that frightened her. Because some days she was so sick of seeing the same faces and doing the same job that she daydreamed about walking into the woods and stealing away. And yet the thought of leaving the relative safety of this place made her stomach hurt.
Chapter 11
Biobots are as at risk as the rest of us. They are basically human and therefore need the same essentials of food, shelter and clothing.
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
NICK DELIVERED AN ARMLOAD of blankets to the small gym. “How many can you take?” he asked Jean who was the room monitor.
“We’ve got another twelve beds free,” she said, clipboard in hand. “I’m moving a couple more families off-site as soon as the storm lets up. That’ll give me a bunch more.”
Thunder cracked on cue but they were too far inside to hear the torrential rain. The storm had come in so quickly, Lottie’s people barely got the storm sheeting up in time over the kitchen garden. “The weather report says it won’t blow over until dawn.”
Jean’s lips tightened in concentration as she consulted the diagram on her clipboard. “How many more?”
“Don’t know. They’re still coming in.”
“We might need to bed some down in the cafeteria.”
“I’ll let Tilly know,” Nick said. He gave her a wave as he left. Jean’s dark eyes held a warmth that he hoped she could also see in his. He knew she was interested in spending a little more time with him, and he’d definitely like to spend more time with her, but there was always so much to get done.
The hallways were packed with newcomers. Thin people, gray with fatigue and dripping wet, sat in bunches along the wall. Some were escorted into the cafeteria, some helped down to the infirmary. The Watch was working to bring everyone in, leaving most of the other committees to lend a hand with sorting and settling. High Meadow’s children were handing out water bottles and blankets.
Tilly had put three small tables in a u-shape against the wall in the hall outside the cafeteria to create her own staging area in the thick of it. She had clipboards filled with lists and a radio. The refugees were being triaged in the hall, then sent into the cafeteria in small bunches. Eunice and her crew had cauldrons of hot soup ready.
“Anyone who can walk has to go down to the storm shelter after they eat,” Tilly called down the hallway to Drew, head of the Greeting Committee.
She speared Nick with a sharp eye as he stepped up to report. “Jean said she’s got twelve beds.”
Tilly made a quick note. “We’ll need more overflow for the infirmary. A lot of these people are in rough shape.”
Down the hall, by the main doors, a commotion broke out reminding Nick of the previous day. He remembered the man that hid from view and got a chill. There were too many strangers all at once. They couldn’t keep troublemakers out today if they tried.
Tilly grabbed Nick’s sleeve and tugged him in that direction. “Find out what that’s about.”
Nick slipped through the crowded hallway trying to look at everyone without being too obvious. Up ahead of him, voices were raised, but it didn’t sound like anger. There was a shriek that bordered on hysteria. He pushed through the last bunch of people to see a muddy, sodden man with his arms around Mika. He patted the man on the shoulder until he got a response.
“You kept ‘em?” the man asked in a hoarse whisper.
“All of them,” Nick assured him. “We need to sort you folks out.” Knowing there would be total chaos the moment he spoke, he couldn’t stop himself. “Mika, take them into the amphitheatre.”
The teen looked reluctant to let go of his father, but he nodded. Gathering a small group of people, he led them away.
Nick turned back to the milling crowds but had to swallow the emotion in his throat before he could speak. He did a two-finger whistle to quiet the voices. Into the near silence, he bellowed, “Barberry Cove kids in the amphitheatre. Your parents are back.” He laughed to release the burn of emotion in his throat. The sound was harsh, drawing a few curious eyes.
It was a bittersweet feeling to finally set something right, but there would be no such reunions for him. He hadn’t gotten around to marriage and children in his other life. Too much work that added up to nothing now. After Zero Year, when things went haywire, he’d gone back to his parents’ house. He didn’t want to think about that time. They had all gathered there, and all of them died. Everyone he loved was buried in
the backyard of the home where he grew up. Sometimes he got flashes of digging. Flinging the dirt with a grief-driven rage as he made a place to lay out another family member. His two brothers, their wives, his sister, her fiancé, all his nieces and nephews laid to rest in the fertile soil of his mother’s flowerbeds. When they called him back to work, it was a relief. It gave him a reason to get dressed and leave the house.
He came back to himself, surrounded by soaking wet, travel weary strangers in the hallway of his new home. Tilly waved for him to come back. She’d have another task for him, and he was grateful for the distraction.
Chapter 12
Bringing a society back together requires planning. A small group can coexist, raise food to share, take care of one another. Double that size and things need to be more carefully apportioned. As the number of people increases, more rules are needed to keep order.
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
THE HAIL HAD TURNED to rain by the time Wisp finished his circuit of the refugees. He’d found the last three, stumbling along, blind from the rain. They had literally walked right into him. Too exhausted to care, they had pushed past him to continue slogging through the mud. Wisp radioed his location for a van to collect them.
He moved further down the road scanning for any other minds. He reached as far as he could, worried that someone had collapsed along the way. Rain pattered on his hood, pouring off the bottom of his slicker. His boots were soaked through, but he was warm enough. Putting his back to a tree, he pushed his senses further. A few small minds hiding from the storm. A bright mind moving swiftly felt like a Rover. There was no banked fire of a sleeping or unconscious mind although that was really hard to feel. They would have to do a visual inspection in the morning and hope that anyone who had fallen would somehow survive the night.
A tickle of pain came to him again. This was much further away than the refugees. It felt familiar, but when he tried to concentrate on it, it faded away.
“Wisp?” his radio called.
“Here.”
“Any more?”
“Not that I can find.”
“Martin wants us all in. Wind speed is jumping. Angus thinks we might get tornados.”
Wisp stared into the pouring rain for one moment more. The night just got more dangerous. Anyone left behind had that much less chance of making it through the night. Reluctantly, he headed back to the staging area. They were still loading people into shuttles, and it looked like it might take awhile. That convinced him to have one more look.
“Got a vehicle to spare?” Wisp asked.
Clay was sorting people into lines to get into waiting vehicles. “What’s up?”
“I want to do a final check.”
Clay pointed to a small car that some Sentinels were using for commuting. “Take Darrell,” he grumbled before shouting for him.
Wisp slid into the passenger seat. It was easier to scan if he didn’t have to drive. Darrell gave him a nod, before jumping into the driver’s seat.
“Which way?”
Wisp pointed. He didn’t have a reason, just a fear. Being in out of the rain made him realize how wet he’d gotten. His pants were soaked to the knees. Rain had snuck under his hood and saturated the front of his shirt. He put that all aside and focused. “Slower, please.”
Darrell slowed the vehicle to a brisk walk. Wisp closed his eyes, reaching out around them. “There.”
“Where?” Darrell peered through the windshield.
It took Wisp a minute to translate the sensation into the physical. “Keep going. They’re off the side of the road up ahead.”
When they were close, Wisp had Darrell angle the car so the headlights would shine into the trees. He still couldn’t see them, but he could feel them. Three people, one in terrible pain and fading from consciousness. He dashed out of the car, Darrell right behind him. A faint call for help was barely heard above the pounding rain.
Wisp stepped down off the road into a muddy gully. He gestured to Darrell, pointing out the drop-off. Ankle-deep water sluiced off the road down an arroyo. Wisp kept to one side, slipping down through slick mud. Movement in a hollow below the car’s lights led Wisp to them. A man and a young girl huddled over an injured woman.
“How bad?” Wisp said hunkering down next to the man.
“I think her leg is broken,” the man shouted above the noise of the rain.
Wisp blocked the woman’s pain, then slid his hands down the leg gently probing in the darkness. The woman flinched but didn’t pull away. He could feel her tentative grasp on consciousness. The leg was hot beneath the wet fabric of her pants. Swollen, but the skin wasn’t broken. “Can you two walk?” he asked the man.
“We can. But we won’t leave her.”
Wisp nodded. He beckoned to Darrell who was eyeing the dark woods around him as if expecting an ambush. A smart instinct, but a quick scan told Wisp they were safe. He raised his voice above the pounding of the rain. “Take the man and the kid. I’ll carry her.”
“Don’t hurt her!” the man growled.
Wisp scooped her up, knowing the movement would push her over into a faint. He moved quickly enough that the man couldn’t see what had happened. It was easier on all of them for her to remain unconscious. Darrell followed, shepherding the other two. Wisp watched his footing, moving slowly up the slick embankment. It was going to be tight quarters in the small car. He had the girl and the man get into the back seat and laid the unconscious woman across their laps. Darrell jumped into the driver’s seat.
Wisp sent out one more brief scan of the area, but something told him he’d finally found them all. It was time to go back to hot food and dry clothes.
Chapter 13
As we plan for the winter, tallying numbers and putting food away, I fear more for the coming summer and the return of flu season.
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
WAITING FOR THE MEETING to begin, Tilly blew on her hot tea, cradling the cup in chilled hands. She wasn’t sure if the cold was from nerves or exhaustion. She’d worked all night sorting out people. The infirmary was overloaded. The kitchen had watered down the soup to make it last. They’d run out of clean blankets and had taken them off people’s beds for the hypothermic refugees. No one complained because they were all too tired and hungry to notice.
Eunice had her crew working on a big breakfast. With the storm keeping them all inside, this would be the largest number of people they had ever fed in the cafeteria. Aside from the refugees, the Rovers, Sentinels and Watch were all in. They had all turned out for the invasion turned rescue and were just as wet and exhausted as the people they aided. Tilly corrected herself. Martin’s new plan had Sentinels out on the borders. He had assured her that they had access to storm shelters, and she could only assume that they had hunkered down for the storm. She made a note to make sure the supply runs went out as soon as it was safe to travel. It was important to make sure the new systems worked regardless of conditions.
The air smelled of soggy clothing and wet hair. But mixed in with the fatigue, she could see determination in people’s faces. This was what High Meadow did. They opened their doors to the sick and frightened. She didn’t want to think about the bad ones that might slip in with the rest. That was Martin’s job. She just kept them fed and clean.
A few volunteers were washing and drying clothes and blankets as fast as they could. Every system they had was under strain. The weather forecast was only an approximate without a satellite to consult, but the weather committee predicted that the storm would end by mid-morning. If they were lucky enough to get some sun, they could take the washing outside to dry.
Angus’s office slowly filled up with tired, grouchy people. Tilly was surprised to see Wisp slip into the room. His long white hair was still wet, but his clothes were dry. Nick collapsed into a chair with a groan. “Are we done yet?”
Angus chuckled, but Tilly could see the strain in his eyes.
As if Nick’s words
were a call to order, people settled into the discussion circle. It was only then that she noticed that Martin’s pants were muddy to the knee. Wisp sat between him and Nick looking a good deal more alert than either. Only a few of the other committees were represented, but all the essential ones were present.
Quiet fell over the room, and all eyes were on Angus. Tilly sipped her tea. She knew this was going to be a hard meeting.
Angus cleared his throat and smoothed the papers in his lap. “This influx of refugees is a game-changer.”
“Can we get through the winter?” Joshua asked, nervous fingers gripping his knees. He was acting as the kitchen’s representative because that crew was too busy. His wife, Mary, had probably talked him into it. He tended to stay close to her ever since Tilly had shot the thief in the kitchen.
“That’s a question that I’ll be working on,” Angus replied in a steady voice. “We have more resources than we’ve ever had before, but now we also have more people. We still have a little time in the growing season left. And some of the people we are contacting in the new territory might be able to contribute something to the pot. Some of our newcomers might be able to forage or grow something in the time we have left before winter.”
“How’s Dieter’s hydroponics coming along?” Bruno asked. He and Toad had become a solid unit in seeking out supplies. To differentiate his crew from the food foragers, Bruno had taken the title of Rummage Master.
“Slowly,” Angus said. “I think it best to plan without it. If he succeeds, then we have a bit more cushion.”
“Housing?” Lance asked as head of the Divvy Committee it was up to him to relocate people.
“We can use the warehouse temporarily,” Nick offered. “It’s got more space than I need right now.”
Lance shook his head. “Still gonna need beds and linens, someone to deliver food...”
