by Alice Sabo
“Are you going to go find him?”
“I would like to. But I don’t know if I should bring him here.”
“He’s not violent,” Kyle said firmly.
“When did you see him last?”
“Right after Sigma was terminated. You?”
Wisp flinched. He avoided the memory so rigorously that it startled him to hear Kyle say it aloud. “About the same.” He pushed away the voices and images that rose unbidden. “A lot can change in a decade—“
“Twelve years,” Kyle corrected. “It was two years prior to Zero Year when Sigma was terminated.”
The scientist in his brother would not allow for casual rounding, especially not concerning an event that so horribly impacted their lives. Wisp bowed his head in acceptance of the correction. “After this much time, all his new experiences...we don’t know who he is now. I would not bring such an uncertainty into this place.”
“Do you want someone to take responsibility for him?” Kyle asked, his frown deepening.
“No. I want you to tell me where I can take him if he can’t be here.”
Kyle’s eyes lit with understanding. “I’ll work on that. Although you have a greater knowledge of the outside world than I do.”
“We have disparate knowledge,” Wisp concurred. “You know of places that I avoided.”
“Most of which are gone now,” Kyle said glumly, the sadness seeping in again. “So many lost. So much work to no avail. If we’d only known...” He patted a stack of dog-eared notebooks.
A shiver went through Wisp as he thought about the sequence of events that brought those notebooks to High Meadow. If Nick hadn’t looked into the death of Lily’s sister, he and Wisp might never have met, and William might have died of his wounds after being tortured. Their mother Melissa might have died in Rutledge’s basement prison, and they would never have known that those notebooks were written by her husband, the madman who released the virus.
Wisp didn’t ask Kyle about his work. The whole community was waiting to hear of his progress in sorting out how the virus and vaccines had altered human DNA. It was obvious in the eye color of children born after Zero Year that something had changed. Kyle was charged with finding out how significant that change might be.
“What of the others, Epsilon and Lambda?”
“I can sense them, but haven’t noticed much change in them.”
“Probably well situated and best left alone.”
Wisp wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Perhaps he should plan a trip to check on them, but first he needed to deal with Theta.
“When are you leaving?” Kyle asked.
“There’s a storm tonight,” Wisp said. “I’ll go tomorrow as soon as it’s safe.”
“Does Angus know?”
“I have no actual duties here. If I leave, nothing is left undone.”
“It would be a courtesy to tell him.” Kyle straighten a pile of papers, his mind going fuzzy at the edges. “He’s a good man. Brilliant in his own field, but surprisingly capable in a number of others. I feel...” Kyle pursed his lips, searching for a word. “Relieved. He asks the questions I want to answer.”
Wisp nodded, also feeling relieved to know that Kyle shared his impression of Angus. “I will speak with Nick tonight.” He stood, the conversation complete.
“Be careful,” Kyle added. “This year’s flu has an extremely high mortality rate, and it may not have run its course in other parts of the country.”
“If I didn’t catch it before, why worry now?”
Kyle tapped his papers. “No. I meant that with so many deaths, people will be unpredictable. More raiders maybe. Definitely more people on the move.”
Wisp shrugged. “I stay out of sight.”
“Yes, well, I just...”
Wisp smiled at Kyle’s awkward attempt to express his affection. He could clearly feel his brother’s concern and mixed emotions at his departure. “I am skilled at what I do. Don’t worry about me.”
“Before you go, I’d like a sample of your blood.”
The request was typical of Kyle. He was pursuing some train of thought and didn’t think about what this might mean to Wisp. It brought back a brief flurry of memories of their early days in the lab before any of them had discovered their specialty. There were tests every day, some physical, some mental, some just required the taking of bodily fluids. Wisp didn’t mind providing blood for Kyle. He was equally curious about the interactions of the flu and vaccines. “I haven’t had any vaccines,” he reminded Kyle.
“Yes, that’s part of it. I’ve tested my own DNA repeatedly over the years, and it hasn’t shown any change, but I’ve been isolated. You have been exposed to the virus and yet had none of the vaccines. Your blood will give me an excellent comparison.”
“Now you need someone who had the vaccines but wasn’t exposed to the virus,” Wisp said as Kyle took his sample.
“I have Ruth,” Kyle said in a distracted tone. Already he was preparing the blood and making notes.
“She’s never been exposed?”
“Just Zero Year, as far as I can tell. I don’t think there is anyone left on the planet that wasn’t exposed that year.”
Wisp pressed a square of cotton over the dot of blood left behind on his arm. “And this year,” he added. “You were both exposed this year.”
“Of course.” He held up the sample. “Must get this to the lab.”
Wisp followed him out, feeling oddly unsettled by their conversation.
Chapter 9
“Spring of Year Two was tense. Cities had shut down hundreds of schools as they had too few children attending. They tried rerouting them with buses, but with the general lack of security, many families chose to keep their children at home. Many colleges and universities chose not to reopen after the winter holidays.”
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
TED DIDN’T FIND NIXIE’S campsite until almost dark. They crossed the footbridge in early afternoon. Following the meandering river had them walking south, then east under darkening skies. They came up to the soaring pilings of an old train bridge that crossed the river high above them. Clouds streaming in from the west blocked the sun. After a day trudging in the drizzle and damp, Ted was tired and worried. The children were dragging, more than just the littlest had begged a ride in the cart. He stumbled along, pulling the cart, his eyes on the dark clouds massing above them. He almost walked right past her marker.
“Unka! The stones!”
Ted tried to stop, but the cart pushed him another two steps before he could turn to look. Willboy pointed to a stack of three at the foot of one of the bridge’s pylons. Sootie joined him inspecting the pile. “We should turn here? Shouldn’t we?”
“Yes, my clever ones.” Ted muscled the cart around, noticing that two of the littlest were sound asleep sitting up, tucked in between two more, barely older, children.
Beyond the pylon, young saplings had invaded a flat area. The sandy path running on the river’s edge merged into the new woods in the shadow of the bridge. An old chain link fence, rusted and rumpled by weather and wear, leaned drunkenly on trunks wrapped in thorny vines. A faint trail led straight in. Ted hesitated. He felt the children close ranks around him waiting on his cue.
“Do we hafta go in there?” Sootie asked, verbalizing his own apprehension.
A rustle answered them making Ted want to back away. He was painfully aware of how vulnerable they were. He wasn’t a fighter, and if he was killed, who would take care of his charges? He planted himself solidly, prepared to defend as best he could.
Toad appeared on the path before them. “Nixie found food.”
A cheer went up, waking the children in the cart, but the little ones didn’t cry. They had learned that silence kept them safe. Willboy and Sootie ran into the woods. Ted felt a shiver of unease. They needed a place out of the coming storm and enough food to fill all their bellies. Finding them in the same place felt like a baited trap.
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br /> Chapter 10
“Medical personnel fell ill as often as the general population. Contagion could not be contained. The triage centers were overrun by frightened people. Some stayed home, dying in their beds. Surviving family members buried them in back yards, medians and city parks. Those without living family simply remained where their life had ended, whether in their home or their place of work.”
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
AT THE END OF THE PATH through the greenery, a dark archway headed into the side of the hill. A flicker of light drew them in like moths to a flame. Ted realized it was a candle lantern used as a signal fire, tiny and contained. They entered a huge underground structure, the children chattering away before him. The ceiling soared away in the dark, reflecting the sound of their voices until it resembled the peepings of birds. A faint smell of metal and grease made Ted think this must be a public works maintenance shed of some sort. From the dim light shining in through the entry behind him, Ted could make out boxy structures, wheels, tangles of hoses that were related to vehicles of some sort.
Another tiny flame beckoned. Ted tugged the cart forward, swiftly realizing that the floor was smooth so that the cart rode easily. He collected the first lantern and blew out the candle then headed for the next. His momentary pause had left him last and alone. He picked up the pace, following the sound of the children. They giggled. Some skipped along, going from friend to friend. Ted wondered where they got that last burst of energy at the end of such a long day. Or maybe he was just trying to cover his fear as they wandered further from the exit.
The next signal was at the top of a staircase. The children were already descending when Ted got there. He set down the cart poles, then helped the littlest ones out. They hurried to follow the others. A treasure hunt had started. He hoped that what they found at the end was worth the worry he felt now. The metal stairs clanged under a barrage of little feet. There was another tiny flame below them. It was hard to judge in the dark, but it looked to be two flights down. Ted shifted his assumptions from public works to trains. This deep into the ground must mean it accessed the trains. He blew out the candle and moved on to the next.
The staircase continued down, but the placement of the tiny flame on the landing indicated they take a corridor here. Ted was caught between amazement at Nixie’s find and anger that she would investigate something so huge on her own. Although, he had seen Toad, so Nixie hadn’t been strictly alone. But he had no idea what Toad might do if Nixie got in trouble, or injured.
A different kind of light bloomed ahead of them. As he got closer, Ted realized it was a door into a bright room, standing open just far enough for the children to squeeze through. He might have a tough time of it. Although he’d lost his roundness years ago, he’d always had a stocky frame. His years on the road had streamlined him, but still not enough to fit through that narrow cleft. A squeal spiked his fear until it was answered in kind by a joyful squeak and clapping hands. The kids were delighted.
The remaining few sped after the others, squeezing through the crack into the light. Ted tugged on the door, but it was rusted in place. A swift kick managed to shift it enough that he could enter. A bright shining room of tile and overhead lights. They’d come out in the shelter cubbies of a train station. He followed the sound of voices.
In the central hallway between the cubbies and the washrooms, Nixie had set up camp. She had the big pot out and was filling it with Stew-goo. No fire needed here in the lighted, tiled hallway. She plugged in the hotplate that Ted had tried to take away from her several times. He’d deemed it too heavy to carry when they rarely could use it. He was glad she had it today. The children dropped their backpacks and were pulling out bowls and spoons. Each child was required to carry those, a water bottle and a rain slicker, and if they were flush, a couple packets of train food. Some carried more, none carried less.
Nixie greeted him with a glowing smile. “Good. Right?”
“Excellent.” He sat down on the chill tile, his legs aching. “A hot meal will be very welcome.”
“Whole room full of food,” she said, jerking a thumb back over her shoulder. “We can eat as much as we want.”
“We can stock up,” he countered. Although it was a relief to find a stash of food like this, it harshly demonstrated how foolish he’d been. If Nixie hadn’t found this place, what would he have done with a storm coming in and no food or shelter for the children? A bitter anger settled into a burning ache in his stomach. This was not what he was made for. These children had come to him, he didn’t call them. The anger soon leaked away as he watched the small bright faces watching the pot fill with Stew-goo. He couldn’t fail them. But he didn’t know how to succeed.
Chapter 11
“The remaining government started shepherding people into smaller clumps. They saw the wisdom of consolidating the population in smaller areas where utilities and food distribution could be more easily managed. However, the general population had other ideas.”
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
AFTER EATING, TED EXPLORED the upper level of the train station. The children were fed and settling down now. Nixie had taken the older ones back to the cart to retrieve their bedding. He had a few moments of unencumbered time to do as he pleased. The stock room was full of Stew-goo and Crunch. He patted the rows of packages feeling giddy. He wished the cart was larger so he could take it all. Maybe they should stay here for a few days. It would be good to rest in a safe place with plenty of food.
He went back through the lobby, noting the system map. All of the stations were dark. That hit him like a bucket of ice water. If the stations were closed, no one would have access to the train food. Even here, where they’d come in a secret back door, the food they found would run out eventually. With the trains shut down, no one would be restocking it. Ted’s knees felt weak. He staggered over to a bench in the waiting area. What did that mean to all the people wandering? The answer hit him equally as hard. It meant they had to stay put.
Why?
He wished he had Epsilon’s gift for seeing patterns. His brother would understand what this change meant in a larger context. He saw the big picture and might know what had triggered this. The trains had run on time and food had been available for the taking. All of that ended over night. The stations closed with no warning. Safe haven gone. Ted had no idea why this happened, but the consequences were dire. He pondered why the desperately needed services were being withheld.
He needed to find a permanent safe place for all of them as soon as possible. This station was secure enough that he thought he might leave the children here to start looking around the vicinity for a settlement. He cringed at the thought. It wasn’t that he loved his time on the road, the truth was that he hadn’t found a place he could tolerate. Over the years, he’d sampled a lot of them. One place had been run by a tyrant, everyone bowing before the miserable old man to earn a small meal. Another had been run by a religious nut. People forced to pray four times a day to a pile of made-up gods for a bowl of gruel and a blanket near the fire. Despite what he told the children, he feared that there was no Good Place out there.
He forced himself to his feet, pushing away his fears. Nixie would be wondering what he was doing. She was a constant companion against his self-doubt. A stout soul that made him feel stronger just by her presence. He didn’t know how he would have managed without her at his side. That thought muddled his brain, making him anxious to reassure himself that all was well with her. He moved quicker, back through the lobby, his mind taking in the surroundings, churning it to pull out anything to his advantage.
The facilities here were still functioning. He could have a hot shower. That was a lovely thought. As Ted walked back towards the stairs down to the cubbies, he caught the faint scent of smoke. He went to check the main entrance finding the area blackened and warped, clear signs that a fire had raged here. Ted tried to look out through sooty smudges on the glass. At closer inspect
ion, there were fingerprints where someone had touched it. Ted tried the door. It swung open into the station. He peeked outside. A brisk wind blew past him rustling leaves and debris across the threshold through a grill of steel bars. On the other side, a short stairway up to the surface was charred black. The walls to either side of the doorway were marked with soot and water stains. Ted worried that someone had attacked the station here. The sign was badly burned, but he could still make out the name: Clarkeston. A paper flapped on the door drawing his attention.
“All are welcome at High Meadow med center. Sick and well. No good heart will be turned away.”
Ted blinked at the flyer. What an odd way to phrase it. A spattering of rain blew down the damaged stairs. He shut the door hearing the bolts snap into place. It was rigged to open from inside, but not from the outside. If the bars hadn’t been down, he would have left it propped open so people could get access to the food and cubbies. He gave some thought to moving the food. With the children, he could make a chain from the stockroom to the entrance, but that would take up a lot of time. The wind whistled through a crack in the door, grit pattered against the glass. Suddenly this didn’t feel as safe as it had before, and something told him he should get on the road first thing tomorrow.
He hurried back to the shelter. Nixie had packed up all the dinner things. The children were just laying out their blankets.
“What?” Nixie demanded.
Ted tried to smooth his face. He wasn’t good at hiding his emotions from her. “This feels too exposed.”
Nixie narrowed her eyes in thought. “Back in the tunnel. There’s another staircase.” She headed to the secret door.
Ted followed. She preceded him back to the stairs, then past them. A narrow hallway led away into the darkness to another door, beyond which was another staircase that went up. They climbed to the top finding a short hallway that ended in a big room. Storage most likely from the look of the sturdy door. It was out of the way and somehow felt a lot safer. Ted nodded his approval to Nixie. “This is a better place to sleep.”