But though the initial fight died down within minutes, others got involved and soon men and women were grabbing, pushing and punching, hands reaching out to steal from those who had practically nothing.
Sensing that the situation was out of control, Bobby kept to the periphery, trying to make sure that no one else got drawn into the growing chaos, and keeping his eye on Michael in case he became a target.
Cries went up behind him and he turned to see a group of soldiers approaching. Four shots rang in the air and the crowd froze. A dozen soldiers plunged into the heart of the mob, quickly dragging away those who were still fighting. Then more came, moving aggressively and grabbing people at random.
“You! Come with me!” Bobby spun around to see a soldier pointing at him.
“What? I was trying to break it up!”
“Do as I say. I seen enough of your type these past days.”
“I’ve got a pass!” Bobby said.
“Yeah, sure you have.” And he tore it out of Bobby’s hand and threw it away. “Now get in line or, so help me God…”
Bobby’s jaw dropped open. Someone shoved him from behind, pushing him toward the soldier. He turned to see it was one of the people he’d been trying to protect. Michael was pushing himself over, but Bobby shook his head to stop him.
He sighed and put his hands up, walking toward the soldier. Resistance, at this point, was likely to be futile. The noise and fury had died away, and the queue had begun to reform like some segmented snake as the soldiers corralled their prisoners, moving them toward the camp. Well, at least he didn’t have to wait in line any longer.
His arms ached as he walked along, hands behind his head. He’d left his pack with Michael, so at least his friend would have some food, and the slow pace of the queue would probably suit him. But would the soldiers let him in? Was Vasic’s attitude typical of this broken world?
Finally, they came to a halt. They’d been led away from the entrance and along a newly erected metal fence to stand outside a canopy with Security hand-painted on a sign. A man sat at a table in the shade, looking down at a sheaf of papers.
One of the guards leaned down and quietly spoke to him, though he only looked up once the guard had finished speaking. He got lazily up and walked around to the front. He wore a flat-top military cap and three stripes on his arms.
“Listen up. You have been involved in disrupting the efficient operations of this facility. We do not need the likes of you, so you will be transported to a location remote from here and then set free. You are not to return here. To ensure this, you will be marked.”
“Hey! You can’t do this!” a man at the front said. “I didn’t have nothin’ to do with it. I was tryin’ to break them up and calm things down!”
The sergeant’s eye flicked to the man. “This is not a discussion, and anyone who resists will be treated with extreme prejudice.”
Another man stabbed a finger at the sergeant. “We got our rights. This is unconstitutional.”
Again, the eyes flicked. “What constitution are you referring to?”
“The Constitution of these United States,” the man said, with a snort of derision.
Finally, the head turned to face him. “Well, I’ve got news for you. The United States is gone. You’ve committed an offense against the government of the Pacific Coast Federation and you will be driven to our border and banned from returning.”
Voices rose in protest until the sergeant nodded to the side and a squad of soldiers appeared, assault rifles held against their chests. Silence fell instantly.
“That’s better. Now, stand in an orderly fashion or face summary punishment.”
Bobby closed his open mouth and allowed himself to be shuffled into a queue leading toward the tent. He’d realized early that the country had suffered a catastrophic blow. But surely they should be coming together, not splintering? He guessed the damage was even greater in the eastern half of the country, but how could government have collapsed entirely?
A man ahead of him yelled in pain from within the tent, and the others in the queue began murmuring and looking nervous, but the soldiers on either side simply raised their weapons and the noise subsided.
When it was Bobby’s turn to go inside, he struggled to focus in the relative darkness. The man two in front of him had his forearm on the table, the white skin underneath exposed. To his astonishment, he heard the buzzing of a tattoo pen. So, that was what he meant by marked. They were to be branded. And all because he’d tried to help stop a fight.
He reached the front of the queue.
“Hey, Bob. What ya doin’ here?”
For a moment, Bobby couldn’t place the man talking to him. He was one of a group of soldiers standing behind the table keeping guard as the prisoners filed by. Then he remembered.
“Sergeant Kravitz?”
The last time Bobby had seen him had been as he waved from the Chinook as he took off to fly back to Lancaster. Kravitz came around and took Bobby by the arm. “I’ll handle it from here, Moose,” he said to the man with the poised tattoo pen.
Outside, he said, “What’s going on, Bob? How did you get mixed up in this?”
“There was a fight. I was trying to keep people safe.”
He smiled. “Yeah, figures.”
“Look, some of these men are innocent, Emu. The soldiers just dragged them away, no questions.”
“Hmm. Walker is a hothead, that’s for sure. I can’t help them, but I’ll do my best for you. Hey, Joe.”
They’d returned to where the first sergeant was sitting beneath the canopy, bent over paperwork. He looked up when Kravitz spoke, shielding his eyes. “Emu. What’s he done?” he said, gesturing at Bobby.
“He wasn’t involved in the fight.”
“They all say that,” the sergeant said.
“Maybe they do, but I know this guy. He was the one who saved Pete Schmidt from those bandits. Brought him back in the Humvee or we’d have lost ’em both.”
The sergeant rubbed his chin doubtfully. “You’re sure?”
Kravitz nodded. “I’m sure. This is your operation, but I’d like to take him back. He’s the kind we need.”
Doubt was etched into the sergeant’s lined face, but in the end, he shrugged and went back to his paperwork. “Okay, sure. Take a truck. I need you to relieve me at seventeen hundred.”
Kravitz acknowledged him and led Bobby away. They climbed into a red pickup. “Lucky Joe’s had his happy pills today or I might’ve had a job to get you out.”
“That’s him when he’s happy?”
Kravitz laughed as he reversed the pickup. “Yeah. Bear with a sore head doesn’t come close. Now, we’ll cut the line and take you straight in.”
“Thanks, Emu. I appreciate it. But I’ve got a friend with me.”
“You want to wait with him?”
In truth, that was the last thing Bobby wanted. “He’s in a wheelchair, so I can’t leave him on his own.”
Emu sucked the air through his teeth. “You know, the colonel’s being awful fussy about who comes in.”
“You’ve got a no cripples policy, is that it?”
“I don’t make the rules, Bob. She’s a tough one, sure, but this place was a living hell before she took over. The last colonel couldn’t organize a…”
Bobby looked out the window at the line of people waiting. “Sorry, Emu. I appreciate you sticking your neck out for me, but I can’t leave my friend.” Because I’m an idiot.
Kravitz went quiet for a few moments. “Tell me, does your friend look disabled?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bobby snapped.
“Hey now, don’t take it out on me!”
Bobby breathed out. “Sorry. He’s got MS, so he looks normal, except he’s in a wheelchair.”
“Okay, so we’ve just got to hide the chair. I reckon we can do that.”
“You’re a good man,” Bobby said.
“Or a damn fool.”
Michael had mov
ed maybe twenty yards in the time Bobby had been away and his relief was palpable when he recognized who was riding shotgun.
He’d been able to move along without problems and no one had bothered him, so Bobby’s pack was intact. As soon as Kravitz got out, people in the queue moved away so they were able to fold down the wheelchair and hide it in the back, covering it with a dusty tarpaulin and rearranging the junk on top of it.
“So, how are things here?” Bobby asked as they drove back toward the gate. “I mean, why would they have a pilot manning security?”
Kravitz chuckled. “They’ve suspended routine flights. Did it the day I got back. Politics. Word is, the colonel doesn’t want to get involved in it. She’s backing the governor, but she’s not making any moves beyond the bounds of the camp. Too many folks rely on it.”
“What about supplies? That was your mission, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, but they’re coming in from Vegas. FEMA’s using it as a hub. Colonel wants the supplies, but the scuttlebutt says it’s backed by the old federal government and she doesn’t want to be in the middle of any power struggle.”
“So, the federal government does still exist, then.”
Kravitz shrugged. “Depends who you ask. I mean, if a few folks in suits stuck on top of a hill in Pennsylvania say they’re in charge, then who’s to say who has the authority? I’ll be honest, Bob, it makes me real uncomfortable. I swore an oath to protect the Constitution of the United States and I meant every word. But if the United States has gone, then I guess my allegiance is to my state government.”
“If the federal government has gone.”
“I guess time will tell. But that’s why the colonel’s biding her time.”
He pulled up to the checkpoint barrier and waved to the guard who approached the window, holding a digital thermometer.
“Thanks, Emu. I owe you,” Bobby said as he shook the sergeant’s hand.
“I’d better get back or Joe’ll be spitting mad. You take care, both of you. Hope you find your kid, Bob, I really do.”
They watched him reverse, the crowds parting as he swung the truck around. They’d been dropped at what had become known as The Forum, an informal market where people exchanged things they didn’t need for the credits that functioned as the main currency within the camp.
Bobby didn’t know where Eve’s quarters were, so his plan was to hang around the market and hope she’d turn up at some point, as just about everyone did.
They stationed themselves at the side of the road, up on the sidewalk where he, at least, would get a decent view. Bobby plunged into the crowd and made his way to a clothing stall where he traded in most of his spare clothes—they’d belonged to Pam’s relatives, after all—in exchange for two credits which he took to the distribution point. He was just crossing the road with a loaf of bread, two bottles of water and half a jar of peanut butter when he heard someone calling his name.
He turned around too late to avoid the small figure who collided with him, knocking him off balance. Bobby had a weird feeling of deja vu as he caught a glimpse of blue sky above and he realized he must have been pushed this way on the gurney when he was being taken to the hospital.
“Hey, Josh,” he said, ruffling the boy’s hair. Behind him, arms open wide, Eve strode through the crowd.
“Thank God!” she called.
“I said you’d come back,” the boy said, looking up at Bobby.
Eve embraced him, then pecked him on the cheek. “He did. I never really believed it, but I’m glad his faith was rewarded.”
Bobby got onto his haunches and looked into the boy’s eyes. “I’m not the only one you were right about. Come on,” he said, putting his hand out.
He led Joshua through the crowd, Eve following behind, and he ignored their questions.
They crossed the road.
They reached the sidewalk.
Josh gasped and slapped his hands around his face as he recognized the man in the wheelchair.
“D…Dad? DAD!”
Eve rushed past him, but he turned away from the happy scene and plunged into the crowd.
Chapter 15
Hypothesis
Buzz looked through the saloon window at the black helicopter as it passed overhead on its way east. It bore no insignia, but he guessed it must be a government aircraft, as it was hard to imagine why anyone who owned a private copter would send one here. Something bothered him about it, however. He’d taken great pains to hide and yet he felt like the toddler who thinks he’s invisible behind the drapes while everyone in the house can see his feet.
But no, he was being paranoid. Everyone who’d come to the hidden compound had either been trapped here from the beginning or, as in Jodi’s case, had come because he’d called. Except this black helicopter. Judging by the direction it had taken off from, it must have passed over where that washed-up actor and his spiky friend were.
He made a mental note to ask them. Frankly, he’d be glad when they were gone, though he didn’t welcome having another three mouths to feed. He wasn’t a cruel man, not at all. But he was a practical person. The more people he had to feed, the shorter the period they could sustain themselves. He’d wanted to leave it a few months before they began fishing—even he didn’t like the idea of eating fish that had, themselves, recently eaten…well, what was sinking to the bottom. But if they ran out of food, they’d have no choice even if it meant becoming secondhand cannibals.
Ah, good, Jodi’s temperature was dropping. He dipped the digital thermometer into the antiseptic solution and wiped her brow with a cold cloth. He’d been in time, but only just. As for the boy in the next-door cabin: he’d survive. Even the wretched dog that spent all its time stretched over the end of the bed seemed to recognize the improvement.
“How is she doing, doc?”
It was the Chicano. He was a puzzling case. Compared to Jodi and—what was his name? Lewis?—he’d had it pretty mild, though it had kept him in bed for several days. But he’d recovered without needing antibiotics and Buzz wanted to know why. It was one of several mysteries, including why he himself hadn’t come down with it. He might still, of course, but every indication was that people went down with it pretty quickly—twenty-four to forty-eight hours—and he’d been exposed to the kids back at the farm long before then. But then, on the other hand, why did it take so long for them to come down with it? When could they possibly have come into contact with contaminated water since the deluge itself?
He put that mystery to one side, and forced a smile. “She’s doing better. I think we caught it in time. Look…Tom, is it?”
“Sí.”
“I need to go check on my…patients back at the compound. Will you watch over Jodi?”
“And Lewis.”
“Of course. They’re due to have another dose in two hours—three tablets crushed in water. I hope they’ll wake up soon and be able to take it for themselves, but for now we have to drip feed them. Do you think you could handle that?”
Tom raised an eyebrow. “Yes, of course.”
“Here, take the walkie-talkie. Call me if there’s any deterioration, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. By tomorrow morning at the latest. Okay?”
Tom nodded. “And thank you, Mr. Baxter. They’re good kids.”
Buzz passed him on the way out. “Yes, I suppose they are.”
So, they’d found a car, then. Buzz shut the gate behind him and climbed off the ATV. It was so low on power he’d half expected to have to push it the last mile or so, but gravity had been his friend and it had held out.
“They got here a couple hours ago,” Hank said, climbing down from his vantage point above the gate. “Said you’d okayed them to bring Dom and his family inside. Also said we could keep the car.”
Buzz gave a resigned nod.
“Don’t worry too much, boss. We’ll manage somehow.”
Who else was going to worry? Buzz thought. Hank was a good right-hand man, but he wouldn’t know a spreadsheet fr
om a bedsheet. But he was too exhausted to argue and Hank was, after all, an ally.
“How are you doing? No fever yet?”
Hank shook his head. “I ain’t bad. Not exactly right as rain, but I’m survivin’.”
“Good. I’ll go check on things down at the farmhouse.”
“Word is, Jo’s got it,” Hank said. “Max came out to check on me. Told me she got sick all of a sudden.”
Buzz felt an unfamiliar tightening. He’d barely given Jo a second thought since the illness had struck, but now he kicked the ATV into life and nursed it across the grass and dirt to the cluster of buildings nestling near the head of the valley.
Anna Frey was the first to notice his approach. She strode across to him as he plugged the ATV into its charging unit. Boy, she looked a mess. Her hair had been tied back to reveal the face of someone at the end of her rope. And her clothes were soaked.
“Have you got it?” Buzz asked, gesturing at the dark stains on her shirt.
“No, it’s just so warm in there.”
Buzz breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, I’d better do something about ventilation. Any more new cases?”
“Not so far. The antibiotics seem to be working.”
“Yeah. Thank God it’s not a virus. I’m betting on it being some variant of typhoid. We haven’t figured it all out, though. How’s Jo?”
Anna wiped her forehead with her hand, leaving behind a smear of grime. “Pretty bad. I think she kept it quiet so she could help the sick children. Stupid, really, because now there’s more for me to look after.”
Phage: Deluge Book 2: (A Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Story) Page 12