“We made it, Val!” I call out to her as soldiers from the Resistance come running to our aid.
One of them checks our foreheads to see if we have L-Chips. “All clear,” he shouts. Then I feel their hands gripping me and lifting me up. They carry Val and myself over to one of their military transports. They unlock the door and practically throw us inside. Ten rebel soldiers jump in with us, the transport starts up and we take off.
After a moment or two I catch my breath and look at our rescuers. They look weathered and beat down. They’re dressed in normal, bland everyday clothes, and not one of them has on any kind of formal uniform. T-shirt, jeans, slacks or whatever is their uniform. Some have on worn out boots; others have worn out sneakers. A few of them don military helmets, but who knows if the helmets were even made in this century. And the same can be said about their firearms.
A young teenager, sitting across from Val and me seems star struck. He keeps shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “Is it really you? Are you really who I think you are?” he says, completely enamored. He looks to be about fourteen, maybe even younger. He’s the youngest in the group that’s for sure, but the oldest in the group isn’t so impressed with us. He’s a rough looking man, maybe pushing sixty; that’s a guess; I’m not sure what sixty is supposed to look like. He sits off in the corner, suspicious of our presence; in fact most of the other fighters are too. But while the younger guy sees two famous people, the older man and the other rebels see two enemies. There’s tension in the air, I can feel it, but Val doesn’t seem all that concerned. She laughs. “Hello there! I’m Valerie Star!” she bursts out exuberantly. “Thank you, thank you so much for saving us.” Her upbeat attitude breaks the mood, and most of the other soldiers end up smiling, but not the older man of course, he’s still grumpy.
Why are you here?” the young soldier asks.
“Because Santa Verde sucks,” Val replies with a giggle.
It is kind of strange, the irony that Valerie Star is sitting here amongst the Resistance. They’ve got to be thinking this can’t be the real Valerie Star, she’s got to be a fake, but she not, she’s the real deal, and here she is laughing and joking like she’s been one of them all along. She takes my hand and squeezes it. “We really did make it, didn’t we, babe?”
“I thought I’d never see you again.” I tell her.
“I know, me too,” she says.
“How’d you get away from Willenger?” I ask.
“You know those two YP’s that dragged me out of the cage?”
“Yeah?”
“That was Brodie and Abby. They never did put me in Willenger’s aircraft, they put me in your car instead.”
“Really? That was them? Where’d they get the uniforms?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Excuse me?” the young soldier interrupts, tapping Val on her knee. “I can’t believe I’m sitting across from you.”
“I can’t believe I’m sitting across from you,” Val jokes back.
“If I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it,” the teenager goes on. “When I saw you two running, I was like, no way, this is crazy; the rumors are true!”
“Rumors? What rumors?” Val asks.
“The rumors that you were going to be in the race. Some new arrivals showed up yesterday insisting Valerie Star was racing. Someone told Governor Puck. And Governor Puck sent us. Good thing he did. Cuz I don’t think those Hunters were going to let you go even if you did cross the border.” Then the younger soldier looks at me and starts to crack up.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“Is the entire singing group defecting?”
The whole troop laughs.
“Hey!” the older soldier yells out. “Let’s show some respect. A lot of good people died today.”
The joy of the moment seems to dissipate a bit. But the younger soldier looks directly at the older man. “But not everyone died, sir. Krog didn’t get everyone.”
The others agree, drowning out the older man’s vibe.
I lean back in my seat and let out a huge sigh. I look up at the different viewing monitors and see we’re heading east, speeding across an endless flat terrain on an old abandoned highway. I notice we’re part of a convoy. The other rebel military vehicles that fought off the Hunters are traveling with us. They’re not state-of-the-art by any stretch of the imagination. They’re refurbished, retrofitted, but they seem formidable nonetheless. Could they hold back a whole Youth Patrol regiment? I doubt it. But they did hold off Krog and his Gladiators. The Salt Flats are behind us, and the future is in front. But as we head down the lonely highway, the dark ominous storm clouds are growing darker.
“So what are you going to do with us?” I ask.
“We’re taking you to Salt Lake City,” an unseen voice rings out. The soldiers around me turn to a guy sitting up in the front. I don’t know how I missed this man before; maybe someone was blocking my view, who knows? “Governor Puck would like to meet you,” the man says as he stands up. The guy doesn’t look like the other soldiers; he doesn’t look tired, or beat down. He looks soft, frumpy. He’s kind of short, kind of chubby, and kind of young. I would say he’s my age. He has red hair, pale skin and his uniform is more proper than the others, or it at least matches. His army green shirt goes with his army green pants. His boots are newer as is his helmet, but both his boots and his helmet seem a bit too big for his body. He motions for the young soldier who’s sitting across from me to scoot over. When the young soldier does, this strange man sits down.
“I’m Thomas O’Malley,” he says as if I should know. “I’m the personal envoy to Governor Puck. Welcome to Utah.”
“Why does Governor Puck want to meet with us?” Val asks.
“Because you’re a big deal, Miss Star, a really big deal,” O’Malley laughs excitedly.
“But I’m not a big deal,” Val insists.
“Oh yes you are… oh yes you are.”
His answer, and the way he said it, makes Val very uncomfortable.
CHAPTER 56
After driving for sometime and passing an enormous lake, we approach a massive barricade made of razor wire. It’s got to be twenty feet high, stretching for miles in both directions.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“That my friend is the border to Salt Lake City,” O’Malley answers proudly. “It surrounds the entire region in this valley. A 3D replicator printed out all the materials to make the fence. It was quite an undertaking.”
As we get closer, I begin to see rebel soldiers stationed all along its border; they’re patrolling every inch of the fence. We stop at a checkpoint and guards check us from all angles and on all sides, making sure we are who we say we are. They give us the thumbs up and we drive ahead. We then stop at another checkpoint, and we go through the same routine again. Finally, they open up the massive gate and let us through. But just as we enter, we have to exit the highway, not because of another checkpoint, but because the highway is gone, it’s not there. It looks like it was destroyed a long time ago. We take side streets through what were once suburbs. We see the ruins of grocery stores, strip malls, and houses. As we drive further into the city, the level of destruction worsens. Buildings are cracked open, rock piles are everywhere; large craters are left wide open. It’s surreal to see what actually happens on the other end of a missile. It appears there’s been an effort to clean up the damage and clear things away, but it’s pointless. There’s too much devastation.
I then see people milling about. They’re everywhere, walking around aimlessly. They look cold and miserable. We’re forced to slow down, so as not to run over any of them. There’s a truck parked on the road. Rebel soldiers are standing in the cab, tossing parcels down to the people. Whatever they’re giving away, the people want it, but there’s no way there’s enough for everyone.
“My God, this is Utah?” I say in a low voice. “What happens when winter comes?”
/> “People die,” the older soldier responds gravely from his corner. “It gets real tough around here.”
“Yes, but things are getting better,” O’Malley jumps in with a reassuring tone in his voice. “We’re building new housing facilities all the time. We have 3D replicators working round the clock, producing building materials for the new units. We are expanding the power grid to bring heat and electricity to every home. We have fresh water, sanitation, we are meeting the demands of the people.” He finishes his speech with passion and energy and his head held up high.
The older soldier laughs at him. “You’ve been hanging around Puck way too long. You’re starting to sound like a real politician.”
“At least we’re trying, Earl,” O’Malley answers sharply. “That’s a lot more than you can say.”
“If you only knew, kid… if you only knew,” the older soldier says, trailing off.
O’Malley is visibly upset by the older man’s insolence, but he tries to put on a good face and act like he’s above it all. “I’m sorry for our hospitality,” O’Malley says, turning away from the older soldier. “Yes, things may look bleak, but we are doing the best we can.”
I look up at the monitors to see what their best can produce and it frightens me.
“What’s wrong?” O’Malley asks, noticing the concern on my face.
“It’s just… if this is your best, then why the hell did you choose to live in a place like this? Why is the center of the Resistance in Utah?
“What’s wrong with Utah?” he answers defensively.
“It’s too cold here,” I exclaim. “You’re all dying!”
The older soldier starts to chuckle. “You got to forgive Tommy,” the man says. “He was born here; this is all he knows. He has no idea just how shitty this place is.”
“That’s inappropriate talk, Mr. Caleb!”
“Oh, shut up, Tommy,” the older soldier sneers. “He wants to know why we chose Utah, that’s all. Since you don’t know, let me do the talking.”
“Fine, go ahead, that’s all you’re good for anyway, all you do is talk about how great the past was.”
“And all you do is talk nonsense, so zip it and listen for once.”
“Whatever, but try not to drag on this time,” O’Malley bites back. “We’d like to finish before the second coming.”
Unfazed by O’Malley’s attitude, the older soldier leans forward and rubs his chin. “It started after the Mormon Wars of Utah,” he reminisces. “This whole area was a wasteland, completely forgotten. The U.S. Army wiped out all the people. Of course, not everyone that lived here was Mormon, but missiles don’t know that. It was then America decided to declare war on all the other unsanctioned religions. They beat the LDS, so why couldn’t they wipe out the Catholics, the Southern Baptists and all the other denominations. They were determined to kill us all. We needed to find a home and fast. Canada didn’t want us, Mexico built a new wall to keep us out, the United Muslim States of New England was never going to consider us, and the Southeast was in the hands of the South American Empire. We were between a rock and hard place, so we hid where no one thought to look–Utah. The U.S. figured this place was uninhabitable, so we moved in. It was perfect. There were no patrols or drones. The Americans had no idea we were living here.”
“But they know now,” I say grimly.
“Yes, yes they do,” The older soldier answers regretfully. “There are too many of us now to keep it a secret. The U.S Army is camped on our doorstep, waiting to wipe us out.”
“Then why don’t they?” I ask. “Since it’s not a secret anymore, why don’t they just finish you off?”
The older soldier looks at O’Malley. “You want to tell him, or should I?”
“No Earl, I’ll tell him,” O’Malley says, looking serious. “The U.S. Army doesn’t attack because we have the bomb.”
“The bomb?” I scoff. “You guys have a nuclear weapon?”
O’Malley nods. “We smuggled one in years ago.”
“That’s impossible.” I answer skeptically.
“If Governor Puck says we have the bomb, than we have the bomb,” O’Malley contends. “And besides it doesn’t matter what you think. It only matters what Willenger thinks and Willenger believes we have one. We’ve kept the American forces at bay all these years. They might have us surrounded, thinking they’ll starve us out, but we’re still here, still thriving, still worshiping freely. This place is far from perfect, but we are alive, we are living.”
“If you want to call this living, then go ahead,” the older soldier answers cynically. “I call it hell.”
“I think it’s perfect,” Val interjects. “It’s already better than Santa Verde.”
CHAPTER 57
The middle of the city is more of the same. More destruction, more ruins; more people. But hovering above, over the shattered skyline, floats a very large hologram billboard. The thing is enormous; it’s absolutely huge, it’s bigger than any billboard I’ve ever seen. What’s it doing out here? Why would a billboard broadcast its programming in Utah? No one around here believes in its message, no one is going to watch it.
“There is no law–in Utah! There is no law–in Utah! There is no law–in Utah!” It repeats over and over again. “There is no law–in Utah! There is no law–in Utah!” the decibel level is loud, so loud we can hear it from inside the transport.
“Fuck,” the fourteen-year-old kid mumbles. “It’s back on.”
“Watch your language soldier!” scolds O’Malley.
The kid turns to his superior with a look of bewilderment on his face; he seems surprised by the reaction. I think the kid was expecting some sympathy, not a reprimand. He shakes his head, holding out his hand with his palm up as if to say, ‘aren’t you hearing what I’m hearing?’ And that’s when it dawns on me. The billboard isn’t here to inform, but to drive the people here insane.
“Yo Tommy,” the driver calls out. “We’re coming up to it.”
“All right, thank you,” O’Malley answers.
I look up at the monitor and see armed men standing guard, watching over a parking structure that was probably attached to a shopping center at one time. We stop. The guards check the vehicle and do their thing and then wave us on through. But the convoy we traveled with breaks off and doesn’t follow. We take the ramp that’s connected to the parking structure downward. It circles around and around, never seeming to end. There’s no way the original ramp would have gone this deep. They must have added to it later. I guess if I were Governor Puck, the most hated man in America, I’d be living down here too.
We finally come to the end of the ramp, somewhere deep underground.
“Well this is it,” O’Malley declares. “Welcome to City Hall.” The vehicle’s doors slide open. The rebel soldiers start to file out, so Val and I do too. Everything down here is made of concrete–the walls, the floors, the ceiling, everything. There’s an entrance to a hallway not too far from where we’re standing. It’s heavily guarded with armed men and women. That must be the way to Governor Puck. Now the soldiers down here underground don’t look like the rebel soldiers up there. These soldiers are all dressed in tailored dark blue uniforms that fit perfectly, they look and act like real pros. They come over, check our foreheads, frisk us, have us walk through some kind of weapon’s detector, and then frisk us again. After we’ve done everything, the soldier in charge nods and allows us to pass. Then, four of these new soldiers escort us down a long colorless hallway. O’Malley, and the older soldier that hates everything tag along. Of all the people that were in that military transport, I wouldn’t think the older soldier would want to come with us, but here he is, walking along like he’s the one who’s really in charge. He’s a burly man, taller than I expected. He walks with a limp, his face is hard; his skin bronzed and his eyes, like his hair, are gray.
We’re led into a small dreary room with no chairs. We wait. The older soldier lets out sigh, letting everyone know around here he’s
irritated. A minute or two pass. Then an older plump red headed woman, wearing a bright yellow dress, stylish from a few decades ago, comes bounding into the room. She immediately sees Val, and let’s out a little yelp.
“Oh my goodness,” she squeals. “Hello hello!” She takes tiny little eager steps towards Val. She throws up her hands in amazement. “You’re even more beautiful in person.”
Valerie responds with a nervous laugh, but the woman, much to her credit, picks up on Val’s uneasiness. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” the woman says humbly. “Was I coming on too strong? I have a tendency to do that, I’m sorry, but we’re all so very excited you’re here. I’m Dottie, the Governor’s personal assistant.” She then gazes up at Valerie again as if she’s looking at a vision. “So, you’re really one of us now?”
“I think so,” Val answers apprehensively.
“That’s wonderful, just wonderful. This way please.”
We follow her to a large dimly lit office area, busy with people, poring over maps and papers. The air is stale and warm. Cheap plastic white fans stand in the corners, oscillating back and forth. The hustle and bustle dies down when we enter, and everyone stops to look at us. Applause breaks out. It’s clear they’re cheering for Val. I don’t know if they know who I am, and if they did, I wouldn’t want them to applaud for me. The attention throws Val for a loop; she isn’t sure how to react. O’Malley walks up next to me. “I think Valerie’s going to change everything,” he whispers. “And I do mean everything.”
CHAPTER 58
“Governor, Governor!” Dottie says, waving her hands. “She’s here.”
A chubby balding man, oblivious to everything, even oblivious to all the applause going on in the office, eventually looks up from his desk. “What?” he shouts irritably. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?”
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