The place was full of sullen people huddled together at tables eating rice. Paulie and Tucker found places on high stools at the bar. As they sat down, the kitchen door burst open and a figure emerged in a cloud of steam. It resolved into a beefy woman in chef's whites carrying a large saucepan. "Any more for any more?" she called.
"Over here, Moira," Jethro said. "Can we spare enough for another three visitors?"
The woman saw them for the first time. "Strangers, is it? But I can count, Jethro, and I only see two. Unless you're after another portion for yourse'n," she said in a broad Glaswegian accent.
"The other visitor is with Luigi. He's a priest, Moira. He's going to hold a Christmas service for us."
"Ach, that's all we need. And don't you go thinkin' I'm cookin' another Christmas dinner for the lot of you. We're fresh out of everythin' but rice, until you go shoppin' for me."
She ladled soup into four bowls and added cooked rice. "There, it's no exactly haute cuisine but it's fair good ballast for a cold night. I'll get you a coffee." Seconds later she returned with a drink and a bread roll for each of them. "Not many of these left either, Jethro."
Jethro sat beside them and watched them eat—a little too hungrily for Paulie's liking. "I'll go to the cache tomorrow, Moira. I'm sure we've got some of those part baked baguettes down there."
"Aye, well see you do, or you'll all be going hungry tomorrow night."
Paulie was enjoying the soup and rice so much she only noticed Smith's return when he sat beside her and began tucking in. "It's not much of a chapel," he said between slurps. "Just a cleared space with a cross made of two planks nailed together. He wants me to do the service tomorrow. I said we'll be leaving early, but this is going to delay us by a few hours at least. I can't really say no, can I?"
"Nope. And this trip is already taking a lot longer than I expected. We've gone barely fifty miles in a whole day. I feel twitchy being away from the place, especially after what happened on Sunday."
Smith tore into his roll with relish. "I don't think you need to worry too much. I reckon the lesson was learned. The mayor's keeping an eye on Petrov, but what can he do? He benefits as much as anyone else from having a safe and ordered community. I mean, can you imagine him trying to set up somewhere like this?"
Quite suddenly, he sat up straight and his hand darted down to his pocket. He turned to her, his face white. "Gotta go. Don't follow!"
He leaped off his seat and ran for the door as the heads of everyone in the coffee bar turned to watch.
She heard his voice coming from the makeshift chapel. She'd had no intention of obeying his order not to follow and had guessed he'd head there—where else could he have gone?
Paulie crept around the outside of the building, following the sound until she guessed she was on the other side of the window he was standing at.
"I don't care how desperate you are, we agreed you wouldn't contact me outside the schedule."
Silence fell, and she got the impression he was using some sort of two-way communication device and was listening to the response.
"How can they possibly have found out about it? How many of us knew about it?"
"That's a pretty short list of suspects and you and I are both on it."
"I'm in the field, you idiot!"
"Yes, of course I've got it with me. I'm hardly going to leave it behind, am I?"
"Do you know for certain it's been taken?"
"In that case, I suggest we stick to the plan. Without the key, it's no use to them even if they do get their hands on it."
"Yes, I know." Smith's voice softened, and he let out an audible sigh. "Look, what can I say? If it's been taken then there's nothing we can do to stop them, but at least they can't use it without the key."
"No, neither can we. I'm sorry, my friend. Farewell."
Paulie was waiting for him as he left the shop. "Who are you?" she asked.
"I told you not to follow me."
Paulie shrugged. "Answer the question."
"If I tell you, then you'll be involved too. Nothing will be the same for you."
"Are you kidding me?" she yelled, gesturing around at the ruined town. "Now, you'll either tell me everything, or we leave you here—and don't imagine you'll be able to charm your way back into Arbroath."
He shook his head sadly. They both knew that in a popularity contest among the citizens of Arbroath, he'd win hands down. But Paulie was gambling that he wouldn't fancy making his way back along the roads on foot.
"Okay, you asked for it. Don't say I didn't give you fair warning," he said before leaning in to whisper. "My name is Scott Lee. My wife was Annabel Lee."
This was so left field it was entirely out of the stadium and it took a couple of moments before it registered. "But you were the first to die."
He gave a wan smile. "Apparently not."
#
Khaled closed the connection and wiped his forehead as he sat back in his chair. Could he be wrong after all? Was it possible they didn't know about the device and their apprehension of Jeremiah had been a coincidence?
No. He didn't believe in coincidences. Neil had confirmed that the man he'd given it to in the first place, Solly Masters, had retrieved it from Jeremiah's pack having, it seemed, killed the two Lee Corporation operatives in the process. Mind you, Lee Corp's standards had slipped since the first wave. They seemed prepared to give a weapon and uniform to anyone who'd say the right words and pledge themselves to the company.
Of the many sins Khaled knew he'd committed over the past couple of years, breaking his word to Lee Corporation was the one he felt least guilty about. No, his sleep was wrecked by shame that he hadn't had the courage to begin preparations months before—when he could have saved a lot more people. He clung to the hope that he could make some amends by preventing the second wave which would see, at best, the survivors become slaves to Lee Corp and, at worst, the extinction of the human race.
The device represented the only chance of preventing that happening, but it had to get into the right hands and that depended on Neil and this man Solly. Neil Buchanon had been a facilities manager in a Lee Corp subsidiary who Khaled had befriended after a chance meeting at a company function. Khaled hadn't spent enough time around actual living people to become a good judge of character, but Buchanon exuded trust and charisma. He was also interested, at an amateur level, in the sorts of embedded systems that had been Khaled's life work. So, they'd become unlikely friends and when he learned the horrifying true nature of Lee Corp's plans, Neil was one of those he helped. It had been hard, very hard, to hide this, but he knew he had to try. He couldn't save the world, but he could save this man and his close family.
The door to his apartment slid open and two black suited security operatives ran inside.
"Hands away from the keyboard, Dr. Abdul, if you please."
Khaled swung around as the guards grabbed his arms. "What's going on, Commander?"
"We have finally caught up with the traitor who's been working against us all this time. Though with little enough effect, to be sure."
"I don't know what you mean!" Khaled cried, as his insides filled with ice.
Commander Chen leaned down so she could look directly into his eyes. "Don't lie!" she hissed. "We know enough to be sure you have betrayed us and what we don't know we will soon discover. Say goodbye to your apartment, Doctor. Your new accommodation is somewhat smaller and, I suspect, less to your liking."
Khaled shook his head. "There must be some mistake, I am loyal!"
She nodded at the guards who hauled him to his feet and began dragging him toward the door. A technician walked in and headed to his computer.
"This is doomsday," Khaled called and, at that, his computer screens shut down and the room filled with the stench of burning plastic.
"Quick, get the fire team in here now!" Chen called. She turned to Khaled, "You have just signed your death warrant," she spat.
Khaled dropped his head and allowed th
e security guards to drag him from the room.
Chapter 8
"Bella! Come quick!"
She found the old man in the living room of the beach house. He was crouching over something on the dining table. When he stood up, she could see that it was an old radio complete with physical knobs and buttons.
"... xico. Repeat. This is an automated announcement by the government of the independent states of Texas, Louisiana and New Mexico. To all citizens. There can be no recovery without security and so, in order to restore order and basic amenities, we ask that able-bodied citizens aged sixteen to forty-nine proceed to their nearest assembly point to enlist in our newly formed militia. Food, medical attention and shelter will be provided to enlistees and their immediate families. The list of muster points follows this message.
"My name is John Murphy, and this is the voice of your president. We are coming for you. God bless the Triple Star States of America. Here are the muster points for volunteers."
"Well, I'll be..." Al said as he put the pen down. "Maybe things are going to be put right after all. Mind you, I guess anyone with a few guns could take over wherever the emergency broadcasts are made from and claim just about anything they like."
Bella slumped onto the couch. "I hope you're not thinking of enlisting—you're slightly out of their age range. But anyway, we can't go anywhere at the moment."
"How's the boy?"
"No better. The wound's looking pretty ugly and he's burning up."
Al switched off the radio as it began the announcement again and then shuffled over to sit beside her. "I'm sorry, engel. I must have left a splinter in the wound. Any luck with antibiotics?"
"No. Maddie's gone to see Silas, but I don't want my son's health to depend on that waster. And that doesn't solve the real problem—whatever's left in his leg. Oh Papa, what am I going to do?"
Al put his arm around his daughter. "Well, we must find some antibiotics first and then, my liebling, we will enlist him."
"What?"
"Didn't you hear? This new government is offering medical care to those who enlist."
She pulled away from him. "I don't want my son signing up for the militia of some illegitimate government!"
"If you have a better idea, I'm all ears," Al snapped. "Look, I don't like it, but there's at least a chance they'll have a proper surgeon who can sort him out for good. And then the boy can help restore order. Seems to me a few months of taking orders and hauling supplies is a small price to pay for saving his life."
Bella got up and walked across to the window. It faced the beach where a lone surfer was wading out to catch the next wave and two or three other figures were lying in the sand. Not a care in the world. She envied them. Jake had seemed to be recovering well after his injury, but once the antibiotics ran out, he went down with an infection quickly and now, just a few days later, he was completely bed ridden with a high temperature and swollen leg.
"Where's the nearest muster point?" she asked without turning around.
"San Antonio. Lackland Air Force Base."
"Good grief, that must be a couple of hundred miles away."
The old man came to stand beside her at the window. "Closer to three hundred is my guess, but I don't know where else we'll find a qualified surgeon or, at the very least, an army medic." He turned and grabbed her by the arms. "Come on, Isabella. Where's the chutzpah that's gotten you in so much trouble over the years? Three hundred miles, pah! If anyone can do it, it's my girl."
"I couldn't do it without you, Dad."
"Of course not, " he said with a smile, "You need someone along who knows which way up to hold a map."
Bella tied the scarf around her face again and took a deep breath. She'd decided that her best chance of finding antibiotics was to search the beach houses along the peninsula—the beach houses occupied by the dead. Rather than clear them in the first days, Silas had simply declared them off limits and so they'd been left until now.
Crystal Beach was popular with the elderly, so it was a fair bet they'd have some medication stashed away, but Bella hadn't been lucky so far. She clenched her jaw and pushed the door open.
Even though she was holding her breath, she could still taste the stench in her nostrils. She ran in through the living room and flung the window wide open before leaning out and retching. She stood there for a few moments, her upper half in the fresh air, drawing oxygen into her lungs before turning to look at what lay on the couch. It had been human once, she knew, but now looked like something left over from Halloween. A shriveled form and a black stain.
She sucked in another lungful of fresh air and ran into the bedroom, pulling open the bedside drawers and throwing the contents on the bed. At last! She grabbed the box of amoxicillin and her hand brushed against something long and hard in the bed. She looked to her left to see a sunken head peering at her from beneath the blankets. She shrieked and ran, accidentally drawing a breath of poisoned air. Bella threw her hand over her mouth, exploded onto the veranda and vomited over the railings.
In her other hand, she held the box.
The next day, she put the final box of supplies in the back of the car and turned to see Jake struggling out with his arm around his grandfather's shoulders.
"Are you sure about this?" she asked as, with a groan, he heaved his injured leg in after him.
He looked up at her. "Do I have a choice?"
He shouldn't have been going anywhere except, in normal times, to the emergency room of the local hospital. His fever had relented a little and he could at least move now, but his skin was deathly pale.
"It'll be the making of you, son," Al said as he climbed into the front passenger seat. "You'll have a hand in bringing civilization back."
Bella had noticed that her father had become relentlessly upbeat since they'd decided to head to the airforce base. Jake had responded well to his enthusiasm, but she knew it was a shield Al had constructed to cloak his fear. Despite the chaotic nature of the community here, they'd felt safe in the beach house and it had become their home.
Maddie climbed into the back of the car and slammed the door without a word. Worried though she was about her brother, she'd resented having to go with them. Bella, too, wished she could have left her daughter behind, but she simply couldn't trust Silas to keep her safe, especially after what had happened to Jake.
It was a hot day and the windows were open as they pulled onto the main road and headed toward the 124. To their right, waves broke onto a deserted shore. The only movement they spotted was in the parking lot of a large hotel that faced the beach. A group stood beside a truck. It looked as though they were unloading supplies and Bella wondered whether there was a functioning community in that hotel or whether it was merely a meeting place for bandits.
The cars littering the road were now dusty and most had broken windows. Dark figures could be seen inside many of them, but it was easy enough to pick a way through. From time to time, they'd come across a section that had been cleared of cars and they'd occasionally spot people on the sidewalk, always in groups. No one walked alone, it seemed, even outside the cities.
Finally, they turned onto the main highway and from the light olives and yellows of the coast to the deep greens of south Texas. They passed a bait shop and a field of nodding donkeys. The road was more congested here and they were forced onto the grass more than once before going back to the highway. But there was no evidence of the new government until they saw a small shack by the side of the road. A man stood beside it and, when he saw them approach, he waved at them.
"Are you crazy?" Al hissed. "Don't stop!"
Bella ignored him, pulled the car into the side of the road and wound down the window.
"Howdy ma'am," the man said, leaning forward to see who was inside. "You look like a genuine family."
"We are. This is my father, and my son and daughter."
The man pushed his hat back to reveal the grizzled face of a veteran. He wore a faded camouflage jacket and
an unkempt beard. "Wow, that's some kinda miracle. Me, I had no one to lose, so I guess we was both lucky. But here, I got some papers here ‘cos you prob'ly don't know but we have ourselves a new government and Texas is a independent state again."
He handed over four leaflets, each folded in the center.
"We heard on the radio: Texas, Lousiana and New Mexico."
"Well sure, they're in it too. The TLX we're callin' it. But we're bossin' the others."
Bella cast her eyes down the leaflet. "So, nothing from the federal government?"
He shook his head. "Nothin' but promises. They can't barely get DC under control so when d'you think they'd be helpin' us folks out? No, we have to do it for ourselves and the first thing is to get the military on the streets again. Gives folks comfort knowin' our guys have their backs." He paused for a moment and then pointed at Jake. "Your boy there, is he sick?"
"He's injured and needs medical attention. We're taking him to Lackland."
"He's gonna sign up? Good on you, son!" He reached through the car window, past Bella, and held out his hand to Jake who took it reluctantly.
Bella held her breath as the man pulled back again and stood beside the road saluting. "Godspeed to you all," he said.
"Have you seen many cars today?" Bella asked.
"A fair few, ma'am. A fair few."
She pulled away from the verge and watched in her rearview mirror as the man went back into the shack.
"How's the fuel?" Al said, leaning across and squinting at the car display.
"Fine," Bella responded, "I reckon we'll cover half the distance before we have to use your contraption."
Al sat back and smiled. He'd spent many hours over the past few days rigging up a fuel extractor that he was eager to test though, right now, he was enjoying the sensation of moving through the landscape on a clear road.
Scattered: Book 2 in the Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival series: (The Long Night - Book 2) Page 6
