by Alice Sabo
History of a Changed World - Angus T. Moss
PULLING HIS CART, TED led the slow march of children down the service road to the water. Toad had told him about a footbridge three miles upriver. Ted couldn’t plan when Toad would be around, but he always gave good information. The steep incline of the road made the two-wheeled cart press hard against his back. The lack of supplies made the cart lighter, but his spirits a good deal heavier.
Since the start of their journey, in the gray of the rain-misted morning, there had been at least two children shadowing them from the woods. As the road cut down through rock toward the water, they would have to come out of hiding. This was how it happened. Lost children drawn by the sound of young voices would follow in the hopes of food and safety. Every night the numbers changed. Some arrived, some wandered off, not happy with the plan of walking for days to find the final Good Place. He couldn’t blame the ones that left, but he did worry about them.
At the bottom of the incline, the road came to a t-stop. At the left corner, a deliberate stack of stones caught his eye. Ted had taught Nixie how to blaze a trail that he could follow with the children. She had become an excellent scout. He turned left. The cart bumped over mud and gravel that had washed down the road over the years. Road maintenance was one of many services abandoned in the decade since the virus was released.
A few of the boys ran over to the bank to toss stones into the river. Ted bit his lip to keep from crying a warning. If the children had lasted long enough to find him, they were smart enough to not fall into the water.
The river meandered with crumbling factories and young woods alternating along the banks. The service road was overgrown in a few places, but otherwise worked for the cart. Behind him the children followed in an untidy snarl. When he looked back, they grinned at him, their eyes colored like the flowers in the field: orange, purple, gold and red. These were the children of the new world, born after Zero Year and marked by the virus.
“Unka, need a ride!”
Ted stopped. Three of the smallest hopped into the cart, settling among the bedding, water jugs and meager supplies. “Ready?”
“Hands and feet in!” all three chanted in unison. Their small voices almost like a choir, lifted his spirits and made the burdens lighter.
“Off we go,” he announced, tugging the cart into motion again. An old man, blind and sick, had given him the cart when he could no longer use it. He handed over two frightened boys at the same time. Ted left the old man as comfortable as possible, water and food within arm’s reach, but doubted he’d live more than a day. The cart had been almost magically engineered, followed at a feather’s touch and rarely jostled the cargo. The boys stayed with him for most of a month before they lost interest and sought shelter on their own. He wished them well.
“Unka Ted.” Sootie scampered up to walk along side him, her short legs working hard. Ted wondered where the children got the energy for all their jostling and playing that they did as they walked.
“Yes, dear one?”
“Will we have a good dinner tonight?” Sootie turned her big dark eyes on him.
She asked the same question every day. Ted could usually answer in the affirmative, but tonight he wasn’t sure. They’d finished off the Crunch for breakfast with the last of the dried apples that he’d foraged from an abandoned farm. Lunch had been an odd jumble of the tail ends of the stores. They all needed a good meal tonight.
“I am hoping that we will,” he said.
“But you don’t know.”
“Waiting to see what Nixie turns up.”
“Not Toad?”
“Can’t always know what Toad will do.”
“That’s true, Unka Ted,” Sootie said with sudden seriousness. Her lavender eyes contrasted with her dark skin in a very attractive way. She was a fairly new arrival, joining them about three weeks ago. Her stick-thin limbs said she had been on her own too long. But she kept her hair tidy and herself cleaner than some of the others, telling Ted that she’d had a caring adult in her life recently.
“Toad does what he can,” Ted added. He didn’t want the children to think he didn’t trust Toad. But truthfully, he didn’t understand the boy or what his motivations might be.
Another careful stack of stones by the side of the road caught his attention. “Where’s Willboy?” Ted called out. Many of the children had named themselves, shedding bad memories with the family names they’d left behind. Ted only asked for consistency.
The boy in question scramble up. “Here! Here!”
Ted pointed to the rocks. “What does that tell us?”
Willboy cocked his head. “Two rocks and two rocks means campsite ahead.” He turned a grinning face to Ted.
“Good work.” Ted gave him a nod of approval. “But what else do you see?”
“The weed!” Three little voices called out from the pack that came up to watch.
“What does the weed between the rocks mean?”
“FOOD!” It sounded like every child had called out. Ted was glad they were learning the trail markers, but it was a delight to know that Nixie had found them some dinner.
Chapter 7
The flu of Year Two started with pigs. It hit them hard leaving farms with pens full of carcasses. Farmers died too, and many facilities were abandoned by those unable to deal with the losses, human and otherwise.
History of a Changed World - Angus T. Moss
NICK BROUGHT HIS DINNER tray down to the infirmary to eat with Angus, surprised to find Martin and Wisp already there. ”Having a meeting without me?” His voice sounded harsher than he’d intended, but his frustration level was skyrocketing. He wanted to be on the road, gathering information to find the missing people and figure out who was sending out the pressgangs.
“No, Nicky, they are just keeping an old man company,” Angus said with a welcoming air. The usual clutter of papers and tablets covered his bed. A side table held an empty plate and glass. He was glad to see Angus had a good appetite.
Martin had pulled in a table, setting it athwart the foot of the bed. He and Wisp sat there with their dinners. Wisp’s rain-damp hair fell loose down his back like the white mane on a palomino. Nick thought that was a good way to think of the biobot—powerful but useful, graceful, with a touch of the wild. Nick pulled up a chair next to him, forcing a bland smile for Angus. “What’s the latest?”
“On me?” Angus asked. “Looks like more of a crack than a break. Swelling came down faster than expected. Ruth is intrigued. I am delighted if it gets me back to normal any sooner.”
“Good news,” Nick said neutrally. He wasn’t sure if Angus was embroidering the truth. He looked over to Martin. “Any news?”
“Sort of. Got word back that High Meadow and Clarkeston stations are still shut down. White Bluff station doesn’t have the steel grates on the entrance like the other two, but they do have internal security doors. They got access to the food stores, but there’s no access to the cubbies in the storm shelter. Anybody looking for a dry spot can sleep in the lobby, but that’s it. The men brought back a van full of train food. Left some flyers.
“The ether banks?” Angus asked.
“Disabled.”
Angus absently tapped a finger on the tablet he held. “Don’t like the sound of that. Why would they leave the food but disable communication?”
“Perhaps different people did it,” Wisp offered.
Nick had noticed Wisp spending more time in the building. He hoped that meant the biobot was getting used to all the people because they had gotten used to him pretty fast.
Angus raised a hand, palm up, in uncertainty. “Anything’s possible, isn’t it. And that is the basis of all our problems. We have no definitive data.”
“I can go get some,” Nick grumbled.
“I know you want to get out there Nicky, but we have to be smart about this,” Angus said, nodding his head appeasingly. “Finding the Barberry Cove children’s parents is still at the top of my list, but we
have so very little information. Why were they taken? Who did it? Where are they being held?” He huffed out a great sigh. “Until Glenn wakes, or we know a little bit more, I don’t want to waste your talents.”
“And Wisp,” Nick said.
“I’ve got men asking questions,” Martin said. “They’ll be to Haver Falls in a couple days and on to Ashton. We’ll check the whole of the Continental Line.”
“Doesn’t go all the way to the coast anymore,” Nick said.
“How come?” Martin asked.
“Sinkholes. Took out a station west of Tulsa. Deactivated a chunk of the line, couple years back.”
“Took some highway, too,” Wisp added. “Hard to get through the new badlands without going nearly to Canada.”
“Okay,” Martin said. “So we go north or south and keep asking questions.”
“They were southwest,” Wisp said. “Last time I checked.”
Nick knew Wisp wanted answers as badly as he did. “Wisp can track them,” he said pointedly.
“We had this discussion already,” Angus said, his blue eyes pinning Nick. “It’s a long journey with too many unknowns on the other end. Your trip to the vaccine lab could have ended very differently. We started without forethought.” He raised a hand to stall Nick’s protest. “Despite your training with the FBI, we encountered unforeseen complications. I’ve learned my lesson. We need more information before we can make an effective plan.”
Wisp pushed his empty plate away. Nick wondered if he would volunteer to go on his own. His skills for intelligence gathering were superb, and even though Angus wouldn’t use that word, that was what they needed right now.
“My brother is worried,” Wisp said.
“Kyle?” Nick asked. Since he and Ruth had arrived, they had kept to themselves. They were always in the lab or their quarters working. They seemed much more comfortable in the lab than in the public areas of High Meadow. Tilly had even arranged for someone to bring them food, so they could keep working on understanding how the virus and the so-called vaccines were interacting.
“No, another brother, Theta.”
“He’s the linguist?” Angus asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s not a skill that’s a whole lot of help these days,” Martin grumbled.
“He is moving slowly, probably walking. He has been concerned for some time, but I have felt...stronger emotion lately.”
“When’s the last time you visited?” Angus asked.
Wisp looked away. Nick wondered if he looked out to where Theta was or back into his memories. The life of a biobot could not be an easy one. Especially now when most of them were out on their own with no keeper to run interference for them.
“I don’t visit Theta,” Wisp said in a flat voice.
“That doesn’t sound good,” Martin said.
Wisp twitched a shoulder in unspoken disquiet. “I would go to his aid if he needed me.”
Nick thought he phrased it oddly, but it didn’t clarify why he hadn’t visited this brother. Although according to official records, Wisp was dead, so he’d been staying below the radar for the past ten years. Considering what Nick had seen of Wisp’s skills, he knew he could travel anywhere without being noticed.
“How would you know when he needed help?” Martin asked.
Wisp tapped his temple. “I feel him. If his concern gets worse, I will go look for him.”
Angus blinked at that, but Martin looked away. Nick knew they were all feeling the same thing. Wisp wasn’t one of them. He may be here and be helping them, but he had not put himself under Angus’s purview. If he left, would he come back? Was this Wisp’s way of reminding them that he had no master, even one as benign as Angus? Nick wondered what he felt from them right now. Angus looked affronted, but Martin looked angry. His own feelings were somewhere in the middle. He wanted Wisp to stay.
After a long minute of stunned silence, Angus spoke in a casual tone that belied the stir of emotions in the room. “Would you bring him here?”
Wisp tipped his head in thought. “I don’t know what Theta needs. If he needed a place like this, I would bring him here.”
That made Nick more uneasy. What could a linguist need? A library? He saw his concerns echoed in Martin’s scowl.
“And if he didn’t?” Angus probed.
“Then I would take him elsewhere.”
Nick grunted as he settled back in his chair. He was angry and worried and biting his tongue. But Wisp most likely knew all of that. “You’d just go off and leave us?”
Those pale blue eyes turned to him looking curious and maybe a bit sad. “Do you still have need of me?”
“Always!” Angus barked. “Wisp you are irreplaceable. We will always have need of your remarkable range of skills and your unique abilities. You are a fascinating person. I still have a million questions for you. Take your brother to wherever he needs to be, but please know that we want you to come back to us.”
Nick saw a smile tug at Wisp’s mouth. “It’s nice to be wanted.”
Chapter 8
There are very few statistics that can be relied upon. Cities tried to keep track. They shut down services as neighborhoods were abandoned allowing them to consolidate personnel. Rural areas turned inward. Mayors that were also farmers, shopkeepers or businessmen found more important things to do than send reports to the government. Some small towns managed to rally under strong leadership.
History of a Changed World - Angus T. Moss
WISP TAPPED ON THE door to Kyle’s room, having prudently timed his arrival with Ruth’s departure, just minutes before. He’d been waiting for a moment alone with his brother. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Ruth, although he felt she was overly protective of Kyle’s time. This matter was about the brothers, about a time before any outside relationships. He wanted to talk without interruptions and explanations of their past life in the lab when they were all together and recently awakened. He didn’t know how much Kyle had shared with Ruth about that time.
Kyle called a distracted permission to enter. Wisp went in, fighting a grin. He knew that Kyle was immersed in research, could feel it in the fuzziness of his focus. He was ensconced at a small table that was covered with books, papers and tablets. The furniture looked even smaller in comparison with his brawny frame. Head bowed over his work, thick-fingered hands spread across his papers, it seemed like he was reading several books at the same time, which was entirely possible.
“Kyle.” Wisp sent a little mental poke along with the verbal.
His brother sat up abruptly, making the chair squeak. “Tau? What did you just do?”
“Got your attention,” Wisp replied smugly.
Kyle huffed a laugh. “Yes, you did.” He rubbed his forehead, a puzzled frown crimping the corners of his amber eyes. “How did you do that?”
“I can’t explain how because you don’t have the capacity for it.” The words might sound rude to another, but his logical brother took it in stride. “I prefer Wisp,” he reminded his brother.
Wisp sat opposite him. The table only had two chairs, a statement of inclusion that Wisp found hurtful. He wondered if Ruth realized what that said to others; how territorial it appeared. She was Kyle’s legal Keeper. It made him wonder about their relationship. He knew all of the furnishings chosen and their arrangement were hers alone. Kyle would be sleeping on the floor in his lab, if left to his own devices.
“You’ve removed the dressing,” Kyle said gesturing to the bullet graze on Wisp’s temple.
“I did that three days ago. The wound is shallow, and there’s no sign of infection.”
“And the concussion?”
Wisp could feel the familial affection laced around Kyle’s concern. It wasn’t something he was accustomed to and found it a little invasive. He was used to being on his own, with no one to care about his well being. On the other hand, the fondness Kyle felt for him had a sweetness he’d long missed. “I’m well,” he said.
“Then what�
�s wrong?” Kyle asked. “You’ve got an odd look to you.”
“I’m worried about Theta.”
Kyle rubbed his face, then ran his hands through his rust-colored hair making it stand out in unruly clumps. “I didn’t even know he was still alive.”
The statement sounded a little callous, but Wisp felt the underlying disquiet in his brother.
“Is he still...” Kyle faltered, a tangle of emotions fluttered through him.
“He has stabilized.”
“Good. Have you seen him?”
“I’m not sure that I would be welcome.” Wisp tried not to think of the incident that had traumatized Theta so badly. It had deeply wounded them all.
“He was so...in such bad shape when they sent him away. Up to that place in Maine, wasn’t it? Was he in that hospital when...it all happened?” Kyle’s focus drifted away. Sadness percolated through his thoughts. “We lost so many.”
Wisp let his brother wander in his memories for a moment, but there weren’t any from that time he cared to revisit. “I think Theta stayed at the hospital in Maine. He seemed content for awhile. I was in the Tetons the year the world changed. Too far away to feel him clearly. But he moved shortly after that. I imagine the hospital was overrun, maybe shut down. He went west at first. He’s been traveling slowly for years.”
“Like you?” Kyle said. “Keeping out of sight?”
“Probably.”
“But now something’s changed.”
“He’s coming closer. And he’s very worried. Frightened sometimes. Angry.”
“How close?” Kyle seemed intrigued.
“Couple weeks walk for me. He doesn’t move very fast.”
“Injured?” Kyle asked.
Wisp shook his head. “I’m not aware of pain.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but the slight discomfort Wisp registered from Theta could be associated with sore muscles or an empty belly, nothing alarming.