Wilder (Savage #2)

by Jade C. Jamison

  “You won’t be here much longer. I promise.” His unspoken words—one way or another—rang in my head, almost as if he’d actually said them. I knew somehow that we’d be leaving these facilities soon, infected or not. The question was if we’d be free.

  Once the guard locked the metal gates behind him, ensuring our continued imprisonment for at least one more night, Kevin said, “Tomorrow, you think?” Then he sat down next to me, pulling the plastic cover off his plate.

  “This is local government, even if it is less organized. It’s Friday night. We’re probably stuck here for the weekend.”

  He scowled, picking up his fork and stabbing the shit out of the poor green beans that hadn’t done anything to him. It hadn’t taken long for the pleasure of food to become blasé once more.

  And that meant I was going to have to deal with brooding Kevin for two more days, a prospect that didn’t seem pleasant at all.

  I’d rather be fighting infected people again.

  Chapter Twenty

  We got a clean bill of health and the okay to go…but it wasn’t easy. The doctor did an exam and declared us likely uninfected. It was Saturday morning, so I had been wrong in my prediction. Apparently, the two doctors remaining in town worked when they needed to, no matter the day or the time. The warden showed up, too, and completed our paperwork, putting a plastic band around our left wrists declaring us virus free. There were also some numbers and a date as well as a barcode on the band.

  Before the doctor left, Kevin asked, “Why can’t you just draw blood and find out for sure?”

  The doctor’s wry smile gave away her answer in advance. “No labs up and running and it’s expensive to do. Not as easy as it was in the old world. A three-day quarantine is plenty effective…and, for all I know, you’re immune. You might be naturally immune or you might have had the virus but developed antibodies against it.” Then her voice turned sinister and she punctuated her words carefully. “If I tested your blood and it turned out that you were immune, you’d be shipped to Atlanta without any say in the matter.”

  “Atlanta?”

  “The CDC. They’re developing a vaccine, and they’re analyzing survivors to help them figure out how to do it. You’d be doing it for all of mankind, but you’d be doing it, no questions asked. If I don’t test your blood, I don’t know anything, and then I’m not obligated to report squat.”

  But we weren’t just set free like we’d expected. Instead, we were told that Kevin’s motorcycle had been stored at the community college…and we would be transported there as well. Once there, we’d be reintegrated back into society and “cut loose,” according to our driver.

  It was a gray sedan, fairly new looking on the interior. One thing that was comforting was being reintroduced to things we knew that were signs of our former modern-day conveniences—running cars, electricity, running water. I looked forward to going home.

  But it wasn’t that easy, and it wasn’t all that it seemed.

  Our driver wasn’t interested in talking. He had a rap CD he was playing in the car. Oh. So rap wasn’t my thing, but music? It was life, and I hadn’t realized how the hell much I’d missed it until I heard it again. It was amazing to have the notes float through my ears into my head, and I decided that, for the time being, conversation was overrated. I started to rest my head against the back of the seat so I could lose myself in the sensation of sound, but then I realized I wanted to see the city. I’d been gone from Winchester for so long and so much had changed. I needed to see what I could. I wouldn’t be able to see a good chunk of the eastern part of town, because of the route we’d have to take, because the jail and the community college were on the same part of town. I still hoped it would give us an idea of what we’d see if—no, when—we were set free. I kept reminding myself of what the guard had said, that all these things they did were precautions to save the many from the few.

  Or the few from the many, as it were.

  The journey there was slower than it had been a year ago, because there were lots of bicycles on the road. Our driver yielded to them and sometimes, he’d have to pull over for an occasional vehicle going the other way to get through.

  It was strange.

  There were also some destroyed buildings along the highway—a couple of places that had burned to the ground and others that appeared to have been gutted and simply left that way, but I could also see signs that people were trying to clean up the mess. There were priorities, though, I supposed, and if the population had dwindled as much as the doctor had intimated, then they had to plan what they were doing and when, and it would take time.

  It was still my town…and yet it wasn’t.

  I felt almost like I was walking through a dream, a dream where I wasn’t the main character. The town of Winchester was the protagonist—and seeing how it had changed broke my heart. I hadn’t even realized a tear had escaped the corner of my eye until I felt Kevin’s hand on my shoulder. I looked over, and he brushed a finger across my cheek. “You okay?”

  Oh. And I’d thought he was immersed in his own personal pain. What a selfish jerk I’d been. “Yeah. What about you?”

  He shrugged halfheartedly. “I haven’t lived here in years, Nina. I’m not invested in it like you are.” He slid across the vinyl seat and pulled me close. It wasn’t until my head was on his chest that I let it all go.

  So much for being strong.

  * * *

  I was relieved to find that the Winchester Community College campus looked much the same as it always had. I never made it out that way much, but—like with all colleges—I found the campus environment peaceful. I knew colleges and universities invested in art to make their campuses continually stimulating to the student body and faculty, but there was much focus on beauty as well. Once or twice over the years, I’d gone to the campus on my own just to reflect. I’d sit on the lawn and look at the flowers, the trees, and the various landscaping and art decorating the land between buildings (that also were planned with a thought-provoking design in mind).

  It was that beauty that I allowed myself to get lost in, even for just a few moments. Drifts of snow clung against the north walls of the buildings on the lawn, almost completely melted, but those remnants made me wonder if Winchester had had a particularly harsh winter as well.

  Kevin and I got out of the car before the driver had shut off the engine. I saw Kevin looking around, trying to spot his motorcycle. There were just a few cars in that parking lot but no bike—at least not the motorized kind.

  The driver joined us outside the car. “You guys’ll want to come with me. You need to meet Susana first.” Kevin looked at me and I nodded, and we walked behind the driver, our boots making a rhythmic sound as we clomped across campus on the concrete sidewalks to the building behind the one where we’d parked.

  One thing I’d loved about the buildings here was how much glass they’d incorporated into the design, so the few times I’d gone to the library or visited for some other reason, I’d appreciated the natural light that dominated the rooms. That didn’t stop me from noticing that this building also had electricity right now.

  I hadn’t noticed it at first, but when we walked past a set of drinking fountains and vending machines, I caught that the vending machines were off, but the drinking fountain was humming, no doubt refrigerating the water.

  I expected to be led to an office of some sort where we’d meet some newly appointed administrator; instead, we were led to a large classroom. It was nothing fancy—just several tables and chairs with a few computers around the room. Two women and a man sat around a table, and the driver waited for them to acknowledge our presence so he wasn’t interrupting their conversation. “These are the folks who came from the west.”

  The older blonde woman raised her eyebrows and stood. “Ah. So nice to meet you both. Thank you, Angelo.” The driver bowed slightly, reminding me that civilization hadn’t completely fizzled out, before leaving. Then she held out a hand and took first Kevin�
��s and then mine to shake. “I’m Susana Gerald.” She also introduced us to the barely-twenty female behind her and a young man, not much older than the girl, beside her.

  We nodded but, I think, we were both weary and wondering if we could even trust anyone anymore. Kevin said, “I’m sure you all already know who we are.” Susana smiled, indicating that he was right. “But, just so we can pretend, I’m Kevin and this is Nina.”

  I got the feeling, based on Susana’s response—or, rather, lack thereof—that we weren’t the first paranoid survivors she’d had to deal with. I was waiting to see if Kevin was going to say anything else or if I could start asking my questions. Susana was way ahead of me, though. “I’m sure you both are looking for answers—and that’s why they brought you here.”

  “Who are you?” Kevin asked.

  She waved her hand toward the table. “Please. Have a seat.”

  The young man said, “We’ll start assigning tasks, Susana.”

  She nodded and waited until the younger two left the room. “Would either of you like something to drink?” We both shook our heads, almost in unison. No pleasantries until we had answers. “Then please sit down. I know you want answers, and I’m prepared to give them to you.” Kevin and I sat next to each other on one side of the table, and I noticed that Susana was very careful not to sit across from us, even though that had been where she’d sat before. Instead, she sat at a diagonal from us, and I began to suspect she had a psychology background. Before I could ponder further, she continued speaking. “You asked who I am. I have been a nontraditional community leader here in Winchester for years. I say nontraditional because I have never been one for the limelight or headlines. I have always wanted action, not rhetoric, and so everything I have done is guided by those principles.

  “Anyway, here we are. The proverbial shit has hit the fan.” I almost laughed, because this woman had such a dignified air about her, and hearing her say shit was as discordant as if Slipknot had decided to write a country song—it just didn’t fit. Before I could marvel more, though, she continued. “I sprang to action. It’s what I do.” She paused, sipping from the cup of hot tea in front of her. “You’re from Winchester?” I told her yes, even though Kevin hadn’t been from here in a long time. He didn’t protest. “But Angelo said you came from the west, right?”

  Kevin stepped in. “Yeah. We were stranded.”

  Susana ruminated over the information. “When did you leave here?”

  “About mid-November.”

  “So you probably missed it all.” She nodded. “Where have you been?”

  I said, “We were stranded in the high country…a few miles outside of Chipeta Springs.”

  “Hmm. There any news up that way?”

  “We were isolated. We couldn’t even make it to Chipeta.”

  “Oh.” She took another sip of her tea. “Well, then, let me fill you in. You both probably know about the infection—that started happening in October, I believe. Well, things got bad here—fast—but it was no different across the nation. It had seemed to start slowly, and the media led us to believe there was nothing to worry about, of course, but then it was like we were overrun with the infected all of a sudden. And then, right after, the power went out.” Kevin and I both nodded, because that sounded familiar. “The first day, I didn’t think much of it. We’d had a heavy snowstorm, and you know what that’s like. The snow weighs down power lines, cuts off the electricity…or the wind causes a tree branch to do the same thing. Whatever the case, you’re at the mercy of the guys who work on that stuff. I tried calling the power company on my cell and my landline, but I couldn’t get through. I still didn’t worry, because even when I don’t call, they usually get it taken care of in due time…but the day passed and nothing. My house was getting colder, and I was wrapped in a lot of blankets. The next day, we were still powerless, and that’s when I decided to find out what was going on. At first, I just got in my car to warm up—you know, run the engine and turn on the heater—but then I decided to brave the snow and see what was happening in town.

  “It was chaos. There was utter pandemonium from one end of town to another. Not only were there infected running rampant—and in record numbers—but there was a lot of looting and vandalism. You know, the riffraff who take advantage of bad situations out there trying to profit. At first, I felt like I was the only one who could see what was happening. Something out of the ordinary—something bad. I searched for people in charge in the city—the mayor, city councilmen, anyone who would listen—and didn’t have much luck. Some of them were infected; others had fled town; and some of them revealed themselves to be utter cowards without a creative bone in their body. So I gathered other people—the fire chief is a great guy; always has been. And the guy who owns one of the tattoo shops downtown? Turned out he’s a solid man with the interests of humanity at heart. The vice principal of the high school, the manager of Hometown Market, the editor of the Winchester Tribune—all good people who wanted to roll up their sleeves and set things right.

  “The first thing we did was gather what few law enforcement folks we had and ask them to do whatever it was they needed to so they could restore order. Our town was a shambles. So they did it. They locked up the bad guys or sent them packing. We had a no-nonsense policy. No trials. You were just locked behind bars. That, of course, was temporary, sort of like a drunk tank. These people were drunk on anarchy. Those who weren’t willing to abide by agreed upon rules we banished. We didn’t have the ability to do much else. And then we called a town meeting—and we spread the word from neighbor to neighbor. We had it here, in the WCC gymnasium, and we discussed our future, because it was scary. By that point, we had no running water, no electricity, and lots of dead bodies to bury. We had huge problems, and looters—people out only for themselves—had tried to take what we had. We needed order and cooperation. One of the first things we, as a group, decided on was that money was worthless, and we needed to work together or we were all going to die.

  “We also decided to send some folks out to scout. We needed to know if the problems were isolated to Winchester. If not, we’d go somewhere else to solve the problem. Our guess was that we weren’t the only ones having problems, because we hadn’t had traffic into the city in some time. We sent several groups—one headed to Denver, one northeast to Limon, another south to Pueblo, and we even sent someone west, eventually heading down Highway 50. We needed news. We needed to know what was going on.

  “Well…we found out. First of all, no one really knows where the virus originated—there’s speculation as to if it came from rats or the fleas on rats…or even if the CDC created it and it got out of their hands somehow. But then people have wondered if it was a terrorist act—and what happened after lends itself to that explanation.”

  Kevin took a deep breath. “I think I could use that drink about now.”

  I smiled. “Me too.” I thought Kevin was thinking something heavier than the lemonade they wound up bringing us, but neither of us complained.

  “So…” Kevin started as Susana smiled at us both. “You’re saying terrorism might have been involved in some of what happened?”

  She nodded. “The power going out? That was no accident. A day or so after the infection got out of hand, domestic terrorists—anti-government people—disabled power grids across the country, virtually sending us back into the dark ages. We don’t know how long they’d had that plan in place, but it’s suspected that they were just waiting for disarray like the infection brought to set their plans in motion. If that had been all that had happened, we’d probably have been okay.

  “But then—” Her voice cracked. “You know I told you we sent teams of people to gather information? One of our teams never returned. A few days after the power was knocked out, several major cities across the U.S. were bombed—nuclear bombs that decimated them. We believe, although we’re not certain, that international terrorists did that. Again, they saw we were crippled and moved in for the kill. D
enver was one of the cities hit, so I lost my husband and the other scouts with him.” She paused, and I saw her eyes glisten, but she swallowed and lowered her lids. When she opened them, it was as though she’d turned off her emotions. “So we and other cities began doing what we could—communicating by moving back and forth, but we knew it wouldn’t last long. We only had limited supplies of gas.

  “By Christmas, though, everything changed. Washington—or what was left of it—deployed the National Guard, along with other military, I’m sure, and dispatched them to cities first, followed by large towns, and they’re still spreading around. But the goal was to restore order and fix what they could.

  “Fortunately, they wanted to work with us. We already had goals and were making things happen. The college has always operated on solar power, so everyone came up here, and we stockpiled all the food and water we could get our hands on. The next job? Get the water plant running, using solar power. We all cooperated and guess what? We got stuff done. We don’t have power going to individual homes. It’s wasteful right now, but we’ve worked together and have it going to places like here, where a majority of us are living for the meantime. We didn’t need power here, but you get the idea. Actual places where we’ve restored power are places like the community center downtown, where others are staying, a couple of schools, a gas station, and, as you know, the jail. Everyone here has a job and they contribute and we’re surviving. Hell, I’d even estimate that we’re thriving, all things considered.”

  I couldn’t help myself. “How are other cities doing?”

  “They’re doing okay, too. They’re all rebuilding as best they can, just like we are. And, believe it or not, the federal government has helped. They put together the protocols for keeping the infected out and also offered some ‘best practice’ guidelines for survival, some of which we used; they also created a team of the best scientists left in our country to develop a vaccine. Once they saw that some of the infected survived the virus and became their old selves again, they saw it as a valuable activity.”