“Hey Bob,” Abby called, and Bob stopped, turning towards her with an inquisitive look.
“I’m leaving for a while, think you can say goodbye?” she asked.
But Bob only smiled and gave a small bow. He continued towards the laundry room at the end of the hallway, disappearing from sight.
“Worth a shot,” Abby said, listening to the shuffling of Bob’s grey slippers down the slick, tiled floor.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have mentioned you’re going away?” Hiamovi said. “I don’t think Bob was privy to our plans.”
Abby rolled her eyes and said, “Who’s he gonna tell?”
“Fair point,” laughed Hiamovi.
The sound of an approaching engine silenced them, and Hector motioned for Hiamovi and Abby to stay back as he crept towards the front door. Not a lot of people had any kind of motor vehicle these days, and those that did usually just had an old moped or motorcycle. The only trucks or cars that were ever around generally belonged to the government or other elites.
It didn’t sound like a big military vehicle, but it was bigger than a moped. Hector poked a finger between the curtains covering one of the front windows and peered outside. The sound from the vehicle was growing louder until it stopped right outside the front door. Two of the occupants, the person in the driver’s seat and a smaller person in the back, emerged from the vehicle and walked up to the building. Hector unlocked the door and quickly pulled it open for the two people.
“This is Abby?” the man said, nodding his head towards Abby. Hector grunted in reply.
The smaller person, the other Abby, shuffled towards Abby while Hector and the other man whispered quietly. She had a blanket wound around her head, her pale white face poking out from the brown fabric. Strands of blond hair hung down around her face, obscuring one of her bright blue eyes, which stood in stark contrast to her ashen complexion.
“So you’re the new me?” she whispered to Abby.
“Seems that way,” Abby replied, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.
The girl managed a small smile and said, “Well, at least I’ll be getting prettier.”
Abby grinned but didn’t reply. She wasn’t sure if there was anything worth saying to this dying girl anyway. She pulled her apartment key from her pocket and handed it to the girl, who took it without a word.
“It’s time, Abby,” Hector said.
Abby looked to Hector and his grim-faced friend, then back to the girl. “How do you do it?” she whispered. “How do you go through with a plan where your only role is to hide away until you die?”
She must have anticipated a question like that, so the girl just shrugged and said, “Death comes for us all. What else can I do?”
The wisdom in her words left Abby dumbstruck, silent. She’d known many brave folks in the past few years, but this girl ranked near the top.
Receiving no reply, the girl embraced Abby and said, “Good luck, Abby.”
Abby returned the hug and then, in quite a military fashion, walked right past Hiamovi without so much as a glance at him. They’d said their goodbyes, and now it was time to put those emotions away. She was headed on a dangerous mission, and it required a Stoic resolve if she wanted to live through it. She was sure Hiamovi understood since he didn’t say anything to her either.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Hector’s friend led Abby out the door and into the idling car outside. Abby sat down in the backseat and noticed for the first time the other occupant in the car: the girl’s mother. She was in the front passenger seat, her blond hair, disturbed here and there by grey patches, was up in a messy bun. She was looking straight ahead, unmoving. It seemed to Abby that she didn’t even want to look at the girl who was to be taking the place of her daughter, and she didn’t blame her.
The girl’s father closed Abby’s door behind her, and then got in the car himself, settling down in front of the steering wheel. “All your papers are there beside you,” he said to Abby. His tone was steady until the last word, when his voice broke for just a second. This plan was taking an emotional toll on everybody.
As the man drove the car away down the road, Abby grabbed the manila folder on the seat next to her and flipped it open, going through the papers there. Several of them were letters from the DAS outlining the training schedule and requirements, along with a certificate of acceptance into their selection course. A small book like an old passport was included. It contained the other girl’s information, but a recent picture of Abby had been carefully placed over the original picture. Abby glanced over the tiny, official page, scanning over the information listed there.
It suddenly became difficult to read what was on the passport as the words began to dance around the page. Abby narrowed her eyes in confusion, but realized then that her hands were trembling. She set the papers down and clasped her hands together to try to stop them from shaking. Looking at her picture in the passport and reading the DAS acceptance certificate had driven home to Abby the gravity of her situation. Now that it was real, she began to feel very afraid.
“I’m just a kid!” she thought to herself. “Kids aren’t supposed to be spies! Why did I agree to this? I never wanted anything to do with this stupid war!”
Of course she did know why she agreed to do it, at least one of the reasons. She was still trying to impress a man long dead, and sitting in the back of a car on her way into a restricted area, that suddenly seemed very foolish to Abby. Zach was gone. Even if this is something he would have respected, it didn’t matter. He was gone.
Abby sighed quietly, leaned back, and shut her eyes. For a long time she’d felt nothing but sorrow when memories of Zach came to mind. But that seemed to be changing. For the last few weeks, she began to feel… contempt for the man she’d once mourned. He should have let her die that day he found her. It would have saved her years of pain and misery. But no, he saved her and then strung her along to make himself feel better. It was never about compassion, it was purely selfish, Abby thought. She wished they’d never even met. More than that, she wished Zach had never existed.
“Whoa,” Abby whispered.
The man driving the car heard this and looked at her through the rearview mirror with one eyebrow raised in curiosity. Abby returned the look but just shook her head, and the man returned his attention to the road.
Where had that thought come from, Abby wondered. Wishing for Zach to have never existed? That was much darker than her usual self-pity. She felt a wave of guilt wash over her as she returned to studying the papers in her lap, trying to distract herself, not only from her sordid thoughts but also from the still present fear that had creeped into her belly.
Only a few minutes passed before they pulled up to one of the gates separating District 1, and the wealthy elite behind it, from the rest of the world. Abby leaned over, looking between the two front seats and out the windshield of the car to get a better look. She had never before dared to come this close to the wall. Long shadows stretched forth from the impressive iron and steel barricade as the sun slowly rose in the East, giving the gate an ominous appearance.
As they approached, one of the guards on top of the wall waved a red flag, and the man driving the car came to a stop several yards in front of the gate. He opened up the center console and retrieved some kind of identification placard, then opened his window and held it out at arm’s length. Abby saw the guardsman look through some kind of handheld optic, then waved them forward. There was a loud ‘clang’, and the iron gates slowly opened inward. The man put the car in gear and drove forward through the gates, but came to another stop just inside the wall.
“This is it,” the man whispered to Abby as he unbuckled his seatbelt. He opened his door and stepped out of the car, and his wife and Abby did the same.
Soldiers approached them, all wearing plate carriers and holding M16 rifles, two of them in all black. Tories.
“Dropping off our daughter for DAS selection,” the man said to the soldiers.
“Papers?” one of the black-clad soldiers asked Abby. She held out the manila folder, glad that her hands had finally decided to behave. The man took it, then looked at the man and woman who had brought Abby here and held out his hand, gesturing for their identifications. They handed these over as well. The man looked over the man and woman’s identification first, only briefly, then handed them back.
It took an extra minute for the soldier to finish going through Abby’s small stack of papers, and she felt like each rapid, fluttering beat of her heart would be her last. But the man returned her folder and turned to the man and woman and said, “Sorry for the delay, sir and ma’am. You can take her straight to the DAS recruiting center. Do you need directions?”
The man shook his head, so the soldier continued, “Very well. You can stay as long as you like, as you know, but you won’t be able to see her again until she completes her training.”
“We’ll probably just return home,” the woman said.
The soldier nodded his head. “That’s fine as well. Carry on,” he said to the man and woman, but then he smiled at Abby and said, “Good luck, kid.”
Abby managed to smile back and say, “Thanks.” It was strange to see DAS agents being respectful and kind to civilians. Just another privilege that wealth bought you these days, Abby assumed. With her papers in hand, she clambered back into the car behind the man and woman, and they drove away from the gate.
As the trio made their way deeper into the heart of the city, Abby, with her nose almost touching the window on her side, felt the same kind of wonder as when she’d stepped into Little America for the first time. Things were okay out in the outer districts, but here in District 1 it looked like nothing had ever changed. Neon lights outside of bars, people jogging for their morning exercise, and cars and motorcycles parked along the street. They passed a couple of diners that apparently operated around the clock, and inside sat people laughing and smiling over milkshakes and burgers.
Perhaps most striking to Abby was the complete absence of any security. Or at least, none in plain sight. Of course there was probably little crime in this rich district, if any at all. Everyone here was either some kind of government official or wealthy elite, all safely secured inside the innermost district of the new American capitol. Abby was not especially political, but seeing firsthand this gross display of affluence that was a mere stone’s throw away from abject poverty was enough to make her hands start shaking again.
Look at that enormous man there, wearing a clean black suit and getting into a shiny black car. He probably had two dinners last night while there’s people out there who haven’t eaten all week. At a time when humanity should be coming together, these people had quite literally walled themselves in, shutting out the rest of society so that they could continue living as they had always lived. God forbid a little thing like a fucking apocalypse inconvenience them at all. I mean, what the f—
“There it is.”
Abby’s angry train of thought was cut off by the man driving the car. She leaned over in her seat to look forward, following where the man was pointing. Looming ahead of them was a great stone structure that resembled a huge Gothic mansion, situated in the middle of what looked like a tiny park, dotted with trees and criss-crossed by walking paths. Another structure, smaller and newer looking sat on the far end of the square. It was a long, squat building with no ornamentation whatsoever, and its presence in the square proved detrimental to the dominating awe resonating around the older structure. Around the entire property ran a high, iron fence, with an entrance gate just down the block.
“This is the headquarters of the DAS,” the man said, gesturing towards the old building. “That other building is the barracks.”
Abby nodded her head in understanding. As they drew closer, she noticed some men and women running about the square in small formations, all wearing short black shorts and plain grey T-shirts. Those must be DAS agents, getting in their morning exercises as squads. Abby wondered if they would be structured much the same as military units from before The Crisis. She knew quite a bit about military life and culture, both from reading books and from listening to Zach’s stories.
The man pulled the car to the side of the road and parked there, across the street from the square, then turned to look at Abby. She met his gaze, trying to read the thoughts behind his eyes. Pity? Disgust? Abby suspected he harbored a tiny, irrational hatred for her. Looking at her, surely he could see only his dying daughter’s imposter, she assumed. She couldn’t blame him for those feelings. She knew too well what losing a loved one can do to your sanity.
“Good luck, kid,” he finally whispered. “Bring the whole thing crashing down.”
Abby furrowed her brow. Just how much influence did he think she had, and how did he expect her to ‘bring the whole thing crashing down’?
“Thanks,” she replied as she gathered together her documents and slid them back into the manila folder. She grabbed the door handle to her side but didn’t open it yet. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about –”
“Don’t!” the woman up front interrupted. She shut her eyes tight, still facing forward. She hadn’t looked at Abby even once this entire time.
Abby said nothing else. She opened her door and stepped out onto the street, closing the door behind her without a glance back. Then she hurried across the street, to the opposite sidewalk, and walked towards the main gate into the square, clutching her manila folder in both hands and chewing on her lower lip.
“Stop that,” she said to herself. “Looking like a scared little girl will get you killed. Be a goddamn woman.”
After scolding herself, Abby changed her demeanor. She moved her folder to just one hand and swung her arms in smooth, purposeful motions as she walked. Her back she straightened, and she lifted her chin up, making herself look taller. She was about to enter training to become a professional, deadly government agent, and she needed to start looking the part. Even if she didn’t feel much confidence as she approached the main gate, at least she could project it in the way she walked.
Two soldiers stood outside the gate, one man and one woman, both wearing nice Oakley sunglasses. Had anything at all changed for these people after The Crisis, Abby wondered. She was going over in her head what to say to the gate guards as she approached, but they spoke first. “You a recruit?” the woman asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” was Abby’s reply.
The woman smiled and said, “Good, we need more smart, strong women in this group. Too many meathead dudes for my liking.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the man next to her chuckled.
“Got your papers?” the woman asked, turning back to Abby.
Abby produced the papers out of the manila folder once again and handed them over to the woman. She scanned them over, looking from Abby to her picture in her passport, then handed these all back to her.
“Just head on over to the administrative building over there for in-processing with the other recruits,” the woman told her. “I hope you’re ready for this.”
“I was made for this,” Abby replied, and without another word she marched through the gate.
She was made for this, she told herself. There was nothing these people could throw at her that would rival what people like Henry or Isaiah had done to her. The woman at the gate said she wanted to see another smart, strong woman in the DAS, and Abby was determined to show her (and everyone) exactly what that looked like.
And just like that, without even realizing it, Abby had adopted a new persona, one that would not only survive but thrive in this high-intensity, military environment. This person could lead a double life, could leave her past relations at the gate and forge new ones with the very people that just yesterday had been dangerous enemies. This she could do. This she would do. And no one would get in the way of her mission.
Part III
The Wakening
Chapter Twenty-Six
After years of listening to Zach’s s
tories about boot camp, Abby believed she had a pretty good idea of what to expect going into this mission: a lot of yelling, physical training that may at times border on physical abuse, and practicing things like patrolling in an urban environment and riot control. And this was, more or less, exactly what she got at the DAS recruit depot.
Abby did in fact learn a great deal about urban warfare, and she went on many mock patrols throughout District 1, armed with blank rifle ammunition for her M4 carbine and reacting to different scenarios. She and the other recruits would take turns leading patrols, some with specific objectives like raiding a known terrorist’s house and some that were much more routine security patrols that practiced snap reactions to guerilla attacks. Abby was better prepared for this kind of work than almost any other recruit because, for one, Zach had taught her well and, two, she herself had carried out guerilla warfare before, albeit on the other side. She did an excellent job leading her patrols, but she tried not to do too well because she didn’t want to stand out.
When it came to the physical training, Abby followed the same script of blending in without underperforming. She was already in excellent shape, very strong for a young woman, but she ensured that she didn’t outdo every single recruit. Still, it was impossible to ignore her impressive physique: sharply defined biceps and triceps, strong legs, and a faint outline of a six-pack. Several of the young men in her class took passes at her, but she swatted them all away. They were in the middle of boot camp, for one thing, and for another her heart was already claimed by Hiamovi.
After the first week, classes for the unarmed combative system taught to all DAS agents began. Abby held back at the beginning when she sparred with a bunch of eighteen year old’s who had likely never even formed a proper fist. A couple of the recruits had army experience and were a bit older, and these were tough opponents for Abby; even doing her best, she found it difficult to beat them. But her training with Zach, sparring with Hiamovi, and learning from Bob had made her a human weapon, and this new advanced course was the cherry on top.
His Name Was Zach (Book 2): Her Name Was Abby Page 27