Melt | Book 9 | Charge

by Pike, JJ

  QUESTIONS:

  Can MELT infect you and decimate you from the inside (but not have outward signs of the infection)? That would point to an airborne theory.

  Do we eat what we’ve scavenged or could it be infected, too? Cans, bottles, cereal? Hard pass for me.

  If these poor people didn’t die of MELT, what caused these deaths? They didn’t starve. There aren’t signs of a massacre. Are there other agents in play? What? Cholera. Typhoid. Other?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MARCH 2022

  As the subterranean room emptied itself of mouth-breathers and brain-farters, Jacinta was acutely aware of the ceiling lifting and the walls expanding. Like a forgiving waistband in a pair of yoga pants after Thanksgiving dinner, the relief was unending. She was glutted on complaints; over-full, nauseous, and ready for a palate cleanser. She couldn’t wait to shuck her public persona and relax back into herself.

  When the final set of feet marched over the threshold, the three-million-pound albatross that had been strung around her neck spread its wings and took flight. It wouldn’t leave Wolfjaw Down. Not while she was in charge. But at least it would roost awhile and let her get her bearings.

  She took a deep breath and turned to face her cabinet. Four sets of eyes stared back at her, expectant but not unkind.

  If it had just been her and Abbie Prosser she’d have been able to speak freely, but Jon was a wild card. She’d never quite gotten the measure of the man. He might look like an ally but be plotting something entirely contrary to her interests—and the interests of Wolfjaw Down; the two things were virtually identical—behind her back. He’d bucked orders when Alistair had been in charge. She had no reason to think he wouldn’t do the same under her leadership. She didn’t want to give him any excuses to disagree with her. Better to keep her mouth shut a little while longer and let one of them begin the conversation. That was the prudent thing to do; let someone else state the obvious and she’d take it from there. Because they had to be thinking the same thing.

  The four of them shuffled, perhaps unaware that they were doing it, and made a semicircle around her desk. It had become their way when they were in session. A semicircle meant they were talking business, rather than chewing the fat. Jacinta hadn’t expected them to go to a formal footing immediately, but that was cool. Decisions were cool.

  “Who will monitor the ballot boxes?” Dominic Casey was the first to speak. A former fine-artist of some repute—portraits of bigwigs hung in the White House and all that—he didn’t say much, but when he did, people sat up and took notice. He wore his authority like an afterthought; almost as if he wasn’t aware that being six-foot-three, with the wit and smarts of ten college professors, didn’t carry any weight. He’d left the world behind and come to Wolfjaw after a home invasion took his parents. He never spoke of it. Then again, most Downers didn’t talk about the past. They looked to a better tomorrow. “We need to make sure voting is private…”

  “Yes. Monitors. Definitely. I can think of several people I’d trust to oversee this.” Trish Taylor nodded, her face wreathed in smiles as usual. She was as short as Dominic was tall, with bleach-blonde hair that belied her serious streak. She was the avid-listener of the bunch. There wasn’t anything she didn’t know about Wolfjaw and its inhabitants. If there was a ripple in the pond, she was going to be first to know about it. She’d carry back all the intel they needed to move forward. She chewed her nails oblivious to the fact that anyone else was in the room. “We’ll need monitors, like you say, and, once everyone has voted, counters. In a sealed room. No one else in or out.”

  So, they weren’t thinking the same thing at all.

  Jacinta had hoped to steer the vote to the outcome they (as in, the five now standing in her office) preferred, by whatever means necessary. She wasn’t averse to the idea of ballot stuffing; not if it meant securing the right outcome. It sounded like at least two of the cabinet were in favor of outright democracy, even when that wasn’t in the best interest of the majority. She looked at Abbie, but her friend gave nothing away.

  “We can ask for volunteers,” said Trish. “There’ll be plenty of people who want to see this done right, right?”

  “We’ve got barrels in the stables. We’ll repurpose those as ballot boxes,” said Dominic.

  Jon cracked his knuckles in that annoying way he had. On cue, they turned and looked at him. Was it the fact that he was short? Was that what made him so fiercely opinionated and attention-seeking? “The stables are the right choice. We can secure them with the minimum number of people and create a stream of voters we can control. People come in through the north entrance, are handed a paper, enter a stall, vote, and leave through the south gates. Perfect.” He didn’t look for her approval so much as nod in her general direction and power on as if it was a done deal already. “Get Trish’s volunteers to set up a ballot barrel inside each stall, with a monitor situated outside the stall doors, and you’ve got voting posts that are both private and monitored.”

  Jacinta had to get ahead of this. They were about the business of ruling, not listening to every joe-schmoe who had an opinion. She wanted to guide Wolfjaw Down to success, not see it drown in opinions.

  It was weird, the minute they started talking about putting it to the vote she was absolutely certain of her own opinion. Ten minutes earlier she’d been tied in knots—unable to string together a thought, let alone formulate an opinion—and here she was with a fully-formed proposal: They needed to let only the Downers through those doors and only if they didn’t have frank signs of MELT-related infection and then, on top of that, only if they agreed to be quarantined for six months.

  Six months was enough, wasn’t it? Nothing lay dormant longer than that. She made a note to ask Patrice, the resident nurse, if there was anything on record that hid in the body for six months without showing itself.

  “Is it an up-down vote?” said Dominic. “Open or closed?”

  Trish edged her way toward the wall and sat on a stony outcropping, breaking the semicircle. She at least thought the decision had been made. Jacinta opened her mouth, but Trish beat her to the punch. “Let’s take it one step at a time. Start with a simple question: should the gates be opened or remain closed? Why make it more complicated? It’ll be easy enough to take another vote once we see what they want. Though…” She took a moment to make eye contact with each of her colleagues. “Do we really need to ask this first question?”

  Abbie folded her arms. “At least a third of the people in Down want us to allow the real Downers back in. Bill and Bokerah are out there, their kids are in here, and that means something to people. They’ve eaten Bokerah’s bread, her eggs, her goat’s milk. Bill has helped raise houses and build vegetable beds. They were self-sufficient before they came to Down. They’re loved. And missed.”

  Trish was back up off her perch, wiping her damp hands down her trousers, nodding and smiling and bursting to say her piece. “Then there’s Liam…”

  Jacinta held up her hand. “You think this hasn’t kept me awake at night? Of course I want to open the doors. But what if Bill and Bokerah aren’t out there?”

  Abbie waved her down. “No way. They’d never leave their children. Never.”

  She had a point. “Okay, so they’re out there. But what if they, God forbid, have died? And the others? What if they’ve moved on? What if there are no Downers? We have to seriously consider that our people might have been picked off, struck down, or packed up fast and moved someplace safe. What if it’s just outsiders waiting to get in? How do we keep that from happening?”

  “We let them all in,” said Jon.

  Jacinta shook her head. No way, no how.

  Trish sighed. She was on the fence.

  Dominic nodded, but then shook his head. What the hell did that mean? Jacinta couldn’t tell.

  Even Abbie reacted, though no one who didn’t know her well would have seen the frown flit across her face.

  “We have a moral responsibility,” said
Jon. “They’re human beings, just like us. Part of the Wolfjaw mandate is to help those who are willing to help themselves. It’s the American way.”

  No one spoke.

  “It’s also the polar opposite of what Jeff Steckle and his followers believe. They’re exclusionists. You see that right? Tell me that you see it…” Jon was fierce once he got going.

  Jacinta raced around from behind her desk and went toe to toe with the little weasel. “You think we have a responsibility to take care of people who’ve never worked a day for Wolfjaw? I get letting the Downers back in, but you’re saying we have a moral responsibility to the genuine Outers?” Jacinta wasn’t playing devil’s advocate. She was speaking her mind, straight and plain, in a way she rarely allowed herself to speak. She believed, passionately, in the mission of Wolfjaw Ridge. She wasn’t alone in that belief. The Downers had taken a slew of tests to prove they were committed to this new way of life. Was if fair to wave all of those requirements and let people in simply because they knocked at the gate? What if they didn’t agree to the Wolfjaw Way after the fact? What if they were troublemakers? Rebels? Criminals? They’d screened applicants for a reason. They wanted people of good moral character to join their ranks, not the hoi polloi.

  “Outside is a death sentence. The air is toxic. You said it yourself…” Jon wasn’t going to let it go. He was going to argue that they let everyone in, regardless of their relationship to the group.

  Jacinta wanted to smack the smug, self-satisfied look off his face. He believed he held the moral high ground and was holding her feet to the fire.

  “As long as we have capacity, we should allow…” Trish was moving her vote over to Jon’s side.

  “How many more could we take?” Abbie had unfolded her arms and moved her hands to her hips. She was engaging with this nonsense. Really? She was entertaining the idea that they allow non-Downers into Down? Jacinta was shocked.

  “Three hundred, maybe three-fifty,” said Dominic. “We’ve been generous with living quarters. Families could have children double up. Space is not an issue.”

  Abbie nodded.

  “Hannah and Chloe hit the motherlode when they raided the compound the other side of the Interstate.” Dominic delivered the report without inflection or excitement. He might as well have been reading the back of a cereal box out loud.

  Jacinta had been part of those raids. She knew the inside scoop. Alistair might have okayed supply raids and thanked his hunters when they came back with cans and jars and sacks of anything that could be pickled, sealed, or stashed in the dark, but it was Alice Everlee’s silver he’d really wanted. She’d never shared that with anyone. Not even those with security clearance. Not even her cabinet. Something told her to keep it to herself, even though those sorties were a thing of the past. Alistair had been too insistent, too focused, too intense. Her gut told her there was more to it, but she didn’t have time to think about that while Jon Burgoyne railroaded his proposal through chambers.

  “We’re in good shape when it comes to food,” said Dominic. “Before we knew we’d be coming into Down, Fatima Al had canned enough fruit and veggies for Wolfjaw to ride out any disaster for at least twelve months. And she’s only one of several people who took Alistair’s request that we ‘prep for Armageddon itself’ seriously. So we have the provisions we brought into Down ourselves, as well as the ones Hannah and Chloe boosted. Even if we had a crop failure, which we won’t, we’d be able to ride it out comfortably for three years, longer if we rationed.”

  “We could let the Downers in, then, without hurting our prospects?” Trish was positively buoyant. “We could save those poor souls?”

  “If no one else has joined them. Yes.” Dominic seemed to be siding with the “open the doors” crowd, which wasn’t what Jacinta would have expected of him. He was a pragmatist. He had to have thought this through.

  What about MELT? The albatross alighted on her shoulders and snuggled in for the duration. The responsibility was hers. She didn’t know why her cabinet was being so head-in-the-sand-ish and she didn’t much care. Here was the one place she was supposed to be able to speak the truth without penalty. They might agree, they might not, but in the end she was their leader and she needed to act like it. Time for her to show her hand.

  “Though I want to open those doors as much as the next man, Aleta Goin made a good point.” All eyes were on her. She was going to have to say the unsayable in words they could not mistake. “MELT has not infiltrated Down.”

  Abbie nodded. It was only slight, but Jacinta was relieved to know she’d get some backing.

  “I want our friends back, too, but I can’t allow MELT inside those doors.” She waited. No one spoke up. “Is there a test?”

  Dominic shook his head. “Not that we know of.”

  “Does it hibernate?”

  “Hibernate?” said Abbie.

  Jacinta shook her head. “Incubate? Can it lie dormant? Can you be infected and not know it? Are there carriers is what I’m getting at.”

  “Another unknown.” Dominic leaned against the wall, his eyes cast down. Was he tipping her way again?

  Please let him tip this way; please let him back me; with Dominic Casey on my side, I’ll be able to swing the cabinet my way. He didn’t speak again. The floor was hers. “Here’s what we’re going to do.” Again, all eyes were on her. “We’re going to allow the people to vote.”

  Abbie frowned again. No one else saw it, but Jacinta knew she was going to be taken to task for that one once they were alone.

  “We allow them to vote but this is the outcome: We collect Downers only.”

  “Holy cow.” Dominic let his mouth fall open.

  “You heard me. We collect the Downers. Only.” She waited for one of them to speak, but none of them said a word. “I know there were soldiers who wanted to become Downers, but there’s no knowing if they would have made the cut. They stay outside.”

  Jon coughed into his sleeve but turned his face back to the boss as soon as he was done.

  “The old couple with the kid….what were their names?”

  “Jim, Betsy, and Angelina.” Trish had lost all her bubble. “They lived next door to Alice Everlee. They’re die-hard preppers, know how to live off the land. They’re good people. They’d be Downers, given half a chance.”

  “They were given a chance, Trish.” Jacinta didn’t know where her courage was coming from, but it ran through her like a spring brook, clean and clear and full of promise. “They’ve known about us for years. They never visited or tried to make contact. Alice Everlee met with Alistair, but she was the only one who tried to build a relationship with us. Jim and…Betsy, did you say?...”

  Trish nodded.

  “They had their chance. They came here to ride out the storm, not to join us. They don’t get a pass and they don’t gain entry. The end.”

  “And the child?” Trish squeaked out a whisper.

  “She’s a plague carrier.” Jacinta was as shocked as anyone that those words had slipped out of her mouth, but she was on a roll. “Under no circumstances is she to be allowed in. We don’t know how she is or whether MELT returns. She’s a no.”

  “How do we separate the wheat from the chaff?” Jon was matter of fact.

  “We take up arms.”

  Jon nodded. “They’ll have had time to arm themselves out there.”

  “Good point,” said Jacinta. “So we’ll need the element of surprise. Who do we trust to mount a nighttime operation?”

  “Nighttime? You’re going to sneak out there like a thief in the night and turn people out of their beds?” Dominic didn’t hide his shock or distaste. He hadn’t been swayed after all. “I just want to make sure I’m hearing you right. You’re going to let the people of Down vote but you’re going to ignore that vote and then in the night, when you hope those poor souls out there are sleeping, you’re going to sneak out and kidnap our people and bring them inside?”

  “Do you have a better idea?” She meant
it. How would they make the right people safe while keeping the wrong people at bay?

  Dominic took a step closer. He was positively glowering. “If you go out there with guns blazing, someone’s going to get hurt.”

  “Collateral damage.” Jacinta was channeling Alistair. It was the kind of thing he’d have tossed off in conversation. She knew that better than anyone. “It has to be done.”

  “I want no part of this,” said Dominic.

  Trish joined him. “Me neither. It’s not the Downer way. We all get a say. A real say. A vote, like you promised.”

  “That’s rot and you know it.”

  Jon had stepped over to Jacinta’s side. Two against two. It wasn’t a vote. Not really. But the way it had shaken out meant that Abbie held the final say.

  “Don’t look at me,” she said. “I need to pray. You know that.”

  “Do we have time?” Jacinta meant it kindly, but Abbie turned her face away from her friend.

  “When we leave out the most important part of the decision-making process, we’re bound to get it wrong. This is a matter for God.”

  Jacinta managed not to roll her eyes. She didn’t have Abbie’s faith in the Almighty’s interest in man’s affairs. “You’ve got tonight. Tomorrow the citizens of Wolfjaw Down vote. I need to know if we’re in this together. I need to know you’ll back me.”

  Abbie turned on her, eyes wide and steely. “I will not hold God to our timing. We will wait on Him.” She had such fire in her belly and conviction in her heart. If she wasn’t allowed to pray into it, as she called it, she’d walk outside the chamber and call a general strike. They all knew she had that power.

  Jacinta smiled to herself. Alistair should have appointed Abbie as leader, rather than her. There would have been a mite more praying, but there wouldn’t have been the same division or anguish. Perhaps she should step aside now and let her take over?