Harbor

by Tom Abrahams

  The response was laced with static but intelligible. “GA,” said Gladys.

  GA was shorthand for “Go ahead.” Norma held her fingers above the transmit key and waited a beat. When Gladys didn’t add anything, she pressed down.

  “We’re leaving,” she said. “It’s not safe here.”

  Saying it aloud made it real. Telling someone beyond the porous confines of her property made it real. Having the plan formulated in her head made it real.

  The sudden tightness in her chest surprised her. She was light-headed. The time between her transmission and Gladys’s response was excruciatingly long. Finally the silence gave way to static.

  “I hear you,” said Gladys. “Is that your only option?”

  Norma pressed the key without hesitation. “Yes. Another attack today. Can’t stay. Will head to that place you mentioned.”

  Norma wondered, even as she said it, if she was being rash. They’d survived in Baird for more than a decade. Much of it, they’d managed on this property south of the highway and outside town. This was a good home. At least it was as good as any place in Texas. From what Norma had learned of life north of the wall, it wasn’t much better. There were haves and have-nots and nothing in between. You were predator or prey, pro-government or anti-establishment. Everything north of the wall was black and white. At least in Texas, inside the wall, there were shades of gray. She stared at the handgun on the desk. She’d set it next to the transceiver when she’d sat down in front of the equipment.

  It was loaded, a fresh magazine in its grip. She’d chambered a round on her way from the house to the barn. Norma reconciled she couldn’t be too careful now. Not with two attacks so close together, not with her husband nearly dying twice.

  The radio crackled. The voice on the other end was more tremulous than before.

  “Are you sure?” asked Gladys.

  Norma steeled herself. “Yes. Can you repeat the code? I have a pencil.”

  “Okay, NGBTX1. I have the code.”

  Norma picked up a broken pencil from the desk. The ferrule on its back end was bent, creased together. The eraser was gone. Its tip was oddly shaped and whittled to reveal what was left of the graphite. The yellow coating on the pencil was pocked with divots, teeth marks or digs from sharp fingernails. She held it above a piece of torn cardboard she’d ripped from an old cereal box, poised and ready to write.

  “Thirty-six, zero, three, zero, seven, seventy-five, six, seventy-six, zero.”

  Norma repeated the numbers back to Gladys and thanked her.

  “Don’t thank me,” said Gladys. “I can’t ever repay you for what you did for me. Just do me a favor, NGBTX1.”

  “What’s that, GFAGA5?” asked Norma. Her eyes welled. A knot swelled in her throat, making it difficult to swallow. She noticed her hand was trembling when she lifted it from the transmit key.

  The transceiver hummed. There was a squeal, and the beginning of the incoming transmission warbled until the sound flattened and was intelligible again.

  “Be careful. It’s not an easy road.”

  Norma promised her she would be careful. She ended the transmission, and the door to the barn creaked behind her. Somebody was there.

  A wave of energy surged through Norma’s body. She grabbed the gun and swung around while at the same time trying to stand to face the intruder. From the edges of her vision in the low glow of the barn light, a dark image loomed inside the entrance.

  As she moved, trying to raise the gun and take aim, she lost her grip on it, accidentally flinging it to the floor like a Frisbee. It skidded across the grit-covered concrete and spun in a circle near the feet of the intruder. The intruder, still in shadows, bent over awkwardly and picked up the weapon. Norma was frozen.

  “Didn’t mean to scare you,” said Rudy. He was leaning on a crutch fashioned from a broom handle.

  Norma let go of the breath she was holding and cursed. “You scared the living daylights out of me. What are you doing down here?”

  Rudy inched his way toward her. He was using both legs, and she realized the crutch was more a cane.

  Chuckling, Rudy stopped a couple of feet from her and handed her the gun. “What am I doing?” he asked. “What are you doing?”

  Norma set the gun on the desk and leaned back. She rested her hands on the top of the desk and locked her elbows. “Finalizing plans.”

  His eyes shifted to the radio and back. “Gladys?”

  Norma nodded. “I’m surprised I reached her, given how late it is.”

  Rudy took another step toward her. He favored one leg and winced. He reached out and pulled himself into the chair. Norma helped him ease into it. He smiled his thanks.

  “Or how early it is,” he said. “Depends on how you look at it.”

  “I thought you were asleep, Rudy. You should be asleep. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

  “Every day is long,” said Rudy. “Tomorrow isn’t going to be any different. It’ll just take a little more pain medicine than usual to get through it.”

  Norma turned to face her husband and faked a smile.

  Rudy’s face soured. He frowned and his eyes narrowed with worry. He reached out and gently stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Hey, were you crying?”

  Norma’s lips quivered. Her chin trembled. She shook her head, but that made the tears come. Holding back the emotion only forced it out with a blubbering wail that she didn’t recognize as her own.

  Rudy leaned forward, both hands cupping her face now, and tried soothing her. Norma’s body shook from the release of raw emotion. Everything she’d held back was loose now.

  He stood, balancing himself gingerly against the chair, and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her body against his. His hands, still strong despite his injuries, held her. His fingers laced through her hair and he lowered his lips to her ear. “Let it out. It’s okay.”

  For what might have been five minutes or thirty, Norma stayed close to her husband. Worries, pains, memories coursed through her as she stood there in his embrace, letting his weight hold hers.

  When she finally caught her breath, she pulled away from him. Her bloodshot, puffy eyes locked onto his and she smiled. “I’m sorry. I don’t know—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Rudy said. “I’m just so surprised you’re that upset over having almost shot me.”

  That elicited a genuine laugh. Norma put her hand on his chest and then ran it across the rough stubble that traced his jawline. “I needed to get it out, I guess,” she said. “A lot’s happened in the last few days. I’ve been holding it in.” She exhaled and sucked in a ragged breath. She hitched as the air caught in her throat.

  “I get it,” he said. “It’s good to cry.”

  Norma realized then his eyes were bloodshot. His face was wet with tears. He’d been crying right along with her.

  “I love you,” she said.

  “I love you,” said Rudy.

  “Are we doing the right thing?” she asked. “Leaving this place?”

  He sighed, and his eyes drifted. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t think there’s a good option here.”

  “How so?”

  “If we stay, we’re sitting ducks. It’s only a matter of time before the Pop Guard comes back.”

  “We already knew that,” said Norma, leaning back against the desk again.

  “Yeah,” said Rudy. “But this poacher thing puts it in perspective. We can’t keep fighting off everyone who comes here. And more will come.”

  Her gaze drifted away from his. Images of Lou, David, and Dallas flickered in her mind. “I think about how alone we are now,” she said, her voice wavering.

  “So I’m chopped liver?” said Rudy.

  She blinked back to focus, meeting her husband’s playful stare. One eyebrow was arched higher than the other. She noticed his color wasn’t good. Even with the warm light above the desk, he looked pale. Dark circles framed the undersides of his eyes. He looked older somehow
.

  “No,” she said. “Not today anyhow. What I mean is, we’re alone out here with no backup.”

  “I know what you meant,” said Rudy. “I was kidding. I don’t disagree with you. Better to take our chances out there than to stay put.”

  “Can you make it?” she asked. “You’re still in bad shape. You don’t look good.”

  He held out his hand and wiggled it from side to side. “Mas o menos,” he said. “I’m okay. Not great, not awful. But I don’t think we can wait here until I’m fully healed.”

  “It’s settled, then,” she said. “We leave at dawn.”

  “That doesn’t leave us a lot of time. And you haven’t gotten any sleep.”

  “I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Norma said.

  Rudy frowned. “Not funny.”

  “Wasn’t meant to be. C’mon, I’ll make you some coffee.”

  CHAPTER 10

  APRIL 21, 2054, 3:30 AM

  SCOURGE +21 YEARS, 7 MONTHS

  TYLER, TEXAS

  “This is where we say goodbye,” said the conductor. “You wait here until the next conductor comes along.”

  He was in the driver’s seat of the van, turned, with his hand on the back of the passenger’s seat so he could see his cargo. His fingers drummed on the ripped vinyl that only partially covered the seat.

  Marcus was sitting in the front passenger’s seat. He unbuckled his seatbelt and inched forward, turning to face the conductor, and rested an elbow on the dash. “How long do you think that’ll be?”

  The conductor shrugged. He frowned and his mustache drooped. “No tellin’. Plausible deniability, remember? We try to keep things compartmentalized.”

  “I get that. Are we talking a day? Two?”

  The conductor shook his head. The hand on the back of Marcus’s seat stopped tapping. “No, not that long. A few hours at most.”

  “What’s the procedure?” asked Dallas.

  “He or she will find you,” said the conductor. “They’ll come knocking. They’ll have a vehicle. It’ll accommodate all of you. You’ll head east.”

  “Past the wall?” asked Andrea. She was sitting on the floor with her back to the wall of the van. She held Louisa to her chest, trying to nurse. Javier was asleep on her legs.

  “Where are we?” asked Dallas.

  Lou was asleep on his shoulder. The baby boy slept too. David was out cold, curled into a ball on the molded plastic floor.

  “Tyler,” said the conductor. “The Rose City.”

  “Rose City?” Dallas echoed.

  “Used to be, Tyler was the rose capital of the world. City had a long vibrant history of growin’ ’em, processin’ ’em.”

  “All right,” said Marcus. “Thanks for the ride and the history lesson. We should get inside. This is tribal territory, right?”

  The conductor nodded. “That it is. Small tribe here, but there’s enough resources they took root. In fact, they call themselves the La Rosa Tribe. See how it’s all full circle?”

  Marcus thumped the dash with his hand twice. “Let’s do this.”

  Dallas woke up the women and children. They were groggy but aware enough to know what was happening.

  Marcus and the conductor exited the van and moved to the rear of the vehicle. Marcus had his pistol drawn. His head was on a swivel while the conductor unlocked the tailgate and swung open the rear doors.

  Dallas exited first, and Lou handed him the baby. He shifted the child to one arm and helped her exit with the other. He handed the baby back to Lou and repeated the process with Andrea. The boys were last out of the van.

  While the conductor led the women and children into the building, Marcus and Dallas grabbed the packs stuffed with gear and food and took as many weapons as they could carry.

  Marcus started toward the door but stopped. “Hey, Dallas, I’m staying here. I don’t want to leave the van unguarded with these weapons. Come back and grab the rest. That good?”

  Dallas nodded and disappeared inside the place.

  Marcus sucked in the dry, warm air of east Texas. This was the part of the state called the Piney Woods, or at least it used to be. More than fifty thousand acres of hardwoods stretched across the Ark-La-Tex, the region where Arkansas, Louisiana, and Texas met at the thick coniferous forest of oaks and pines. Underneath the canopies of those towering trees grew thickets of yaupon and dogwood. Redbud, maple, and elm also grew in abundance.

  That was before loggers and then the drought. Now the area looked like what Marcus remembered seeing in books and movies of the German Black Forest after shelling in World War Two a century earlier. There was still some green, some drought-resistant strains of evergreens and succulents.

  From where he stood now, in the middle of Tyler at West Elm Street and College Avenue, there wasn’t a tree in sight. No grass either. The narrow esplanades that decorated the wide parking lot were barren. Even in the milky dark of predawn, the lack of vegetation was apparent.

  Marcus stood watch, listening for movement. On the two-hour drive from the state park, the conductor had warned Marcus of the threats in Tyler. La Rosa was entrenched. They ran both the town and neighboring Longview.

  It struck Marcus how people always found a way to take control, to fill the vacuum left behind by whoever had previously failed to maintain power. It was like an immutable law of physics and only bolstered his contention that people weren’t inherently good.

  There were plenty of good people, but he’d lost hope in the masses, in those driven to self-preservation at the expense of others. He rattled off the long list of malevolent humans he’d come across in his life, and it was a short one compared to what he’d learned about global history.

  It wasn’t just about war; it was pervasive in the business world. When he’d been a consultant and made the money that paid for the land east of Rising Star, there were always others trying to take from him what he’d earned. There were liars and cheats and those who bent the rules to benefit themselves. They justified it by pointing at others who’d done the same or by suggesting they were novel and brilliant for thinking of it first, executing a plan. Kill or be killed. Darwinian evolution. Eye for an eye. Biblical wrath. It was all the same.

  And here he stood on the lookout for the latest incarnation of it, some affiliated group of monsters with a stupid name in search of greater reach, broader power. It made him sick. It would have made him regret leaving his home in Chatham, Virginia, were it not for one thing. Or four things.

  Fighting the fight was worth it for Lou, David, the new baby, and even Dallas. It was worth his sacrifice. It was worth facing demons and coping with worsening arthritis. He sucked in another deep breath of the warm air and tilted his head from side to side. His neck cracked like bubble wrap.

  The conductor emerged from the building. He was moving quickly, rubbing the top of his bald head with one hand while gesticulating toward the back of the van with the other. “Hey, I’m gonna help you with the rest of the guns and ammo.”

  Marcus shifted his pack on his shoulder and glanced toward the open door. “Why? Where’s Dal—”

  “No names.” The conductor grabbed a bag loaded with ammo and took a couple of rifles in the other hand.

  “Where’s the new father?” Marcus corrected himself. “Everything okay?”

  “He’s dealing with his lady,” said the conductor. “She’s a little upset. He’s trying to calm her down.”

  The two of them heaved their loads inside the building. A familiar odor Marcus couldn’t place hit him as soon as he crossed the threshold.

  “Something about books,” said the conductor. “She was talking about books.”

  That was the odor. Books. Marcus inhaled deeply through his nose, relishing the comforting aroma of paper and ink. The smell of a book was something he’d missed. He knew Lou loved them too. But why would they upset her? That didn’t make any sense.

  The conductor led Marcus through a narrow hallway. It was too dark to see much, and Marcus kep
t banging into the walls as he moved. Where he could see, he shifted to avoid connecting with anything.

  Then the hallway opened into a wide expanse, a single large space. Marcus could hear Lou crying. She sounded almost inconsolable. That wasn’t like her. She was passionate, but she wasn’t one for tears. Marcus had to admit she’d given birth a few hours earlier, and the hormones raging through her body were probably responsible.

  As his eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering in through the windows at the edges of the space, Marcus suddenly understood why Lou was upset. On all sides were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. There were rows of chairs at tables. There was a large desk at the center of the space, resembling a command center.

  This was a library. More specifically, as he read the lettering on the front of the central desk, it was the Tyler Public Library.

  His heart sank for her and he found an empty table on which to lay down his gear. Then he crossed the room to Lou and Dallas. Dallas had his arms around her, shushing her. Her arms were wrapped around him, her fingers gripping the shirt fabric on his back.

  He almost said something to comfort both of them, but stopped himself. This was their moment. It was Dallas’s job to help his wife. He backed up and found Andrea holding both babies. He hadn’t gotten a good look at Lou’s son.

  The conductor cleared his throat to get Marcus’s attention. “I’m headin’ out,” he said. “Got to head back and help with them women in Gun Barrel City. Heard they’re all good to go now. Safe and such.”

  “Where will you take them?” Marcus asked.

  “Who knows? They like to be all surreptitious and such. I do what I’m told when I’m told to do it.”

  Marcus suppressed a grin at the awkward insertion of the conductor’s favorite word. He thanked him again for his help. “See you soon.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  The conductor waved his goodbyes to the others and left them in the library alone. The door clanged when he shut it behind him. It was a distant metallic sound that echoed through the long hallway, which emptied to the main library.