The Quell

by E S Richards

  “Ready?”

  Harrison’s voice pulled Len back to the present, turning his mind away from the strange woman with broken arms and focusing on the bike he rode once more. He offered his friend a nod and then turned to look at Amy, she and Maggie finally steeling themselves for the journey as well. As soon as Amy nodded as well, Harrison turned back to face the gate, twisted the throttle in his hand, and gently guided his bike out of the gate and away down the road.

  Len looked to Amy, giving her a smile and a nod as if to indicate she should go next. After a short moment Amy conceded, twisting the throttle of her own bike and gliding forward, though in a slightly jerkier manner than Harrison had done.

  Finally, it was Len’s turn. With a steady hand he urged his bike forward, waiting until he found the friction point once more on the clutch before accelerating. The moment was much smoother this time, the bike shuddering slightly at first before the engine caught properly and the vehicle roared forward, pulling Len out of the gates of the camp and away down the road behind Harrison and Amy.

  He kept his pressure on the accelerator minimal, not wanting to push the bike too hard and cause himself to fall off. But still, as he felt the wind rushing past him, Len couldn’t resist the urge to drive a little faster. It felt freeing. He felt like he wasn’t being held down by the shackles of the new world or the solar crash anymore. He had both Amy and James back and they had Harrison to guide them. Surely now things would start to go right. Surely somehow they could find a way to return to normal.

  Chapter 4

  “That’s incredible.”

  Dixon squeezed Mary’s hand as she spoke, gaping at the stationary 4x4 as it rumbled in front of them. Her words described exactly how he was feeling. They had both spent a fair amount of time in the city since the power cut out and every vehicle on the roads had stopped working. Mary had even seen one explode in front of her eyes. A working engine in the basement of the White House was an incredible feat. Dixon wouldn’t have believed it unless he was seeing it with his own eyes.

  “How is that possible?” the soldier eventually asked, watching as Mr. Wilson stepped forward and clapped one of the engineers on the back in congratulations.

  “Excellent work,” Wilson spoke, ignoring Dixon’s question for the time being. “Do you think you can fix others?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” the engineer nodded. “The older ones at least.”

  “What about the transport trucks?” Wilson continued after a brief moment’s pause, his mind working quickly to come up with a plan.

  “The ones in the hangar?” The engineer questioned, scratching his head for a moment in thought. “I think their design is probably too new. Maybe if there were still some of the old engines lying around. We could switch them out and get the trucks working that way, maybe.”

  “Would that work?”

  “Should,” the engineer continued after another short pause. “It might take some time, though.”

  “Time,” Mr. Wilson replied, “is unfortunately something we don’t seem to have a lot of. Take as many people as you need. Leave just a couple of people working on the radios. We need to make this our top priority.”

  “Yes sir,” the engineer nodded. “Should we focus all our efforts on the transport trucks?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Wilson responded immediately, a plan finally formed in his mind. “We know these can run now if we need them, but we need to be thinking bigger. Head up now and see what you can do. I’ll be along shortly.”

  “Yes sir,” the engineer repeated, beckoning to his fellow engineers who stood around silently, pretending to tinker with different parts of machinery when in reality they were all hanging off every word.

  ***

  “What are you thinking, Dad?”

  Mary posed the question once the team of engineers had departed up the spiral staircase, leaving just the three of them in the underground garage. Mr. Wilson hadn’t indicated that he wanted Dixon or Mary to leave with them and so the two had stayed behind, Mary’s hand still firmly held in Dixon’s. After everything they had been through, he was reluctant to ever let it go again.

  “I’m thinking,” Mr. Wilson slowly started to reply, turning his body away from the 4x4, which had now been shut off, and instead to face his daughter, “that we might be able to save our country after all.”

  “Are you planning to send relief aid out into the city, sir?” Dixon questioned, running through the options in his head. “Or an armed force to try and bring back the peace?”

  Mr. Wilson shook his head. “You sound just like General Shepherd, Dixon. Since when did sending out an army ever help to bring peace? No, that’s not what I have in mind. But relief aid on the other hand… That’s exactly it. I think if we can provide somewhere safe for these people to go, they’ll stop causing problems in the city and realize that life is perfectly survivable without power.”

  Dixon hung his head for a moment, ashamed slightly that he had even suggested the idea of armed forces. General Shepherd had indeed already tried that, taking almost all of the troops from the White House and heading out into the city. As of yet, there was no sign of them returning nor of them having had any positive effect in Washington. The city was continuing to fall down—quite literally—and its residents all remained in grave danger.

  “Where are you planning to send it?” Mary opened her mouth to question her father’s plan next, the young girl having taken the time to think through his suggestion and combat it with a rational argument. “It’s too dangerous to try and fix things in the city this soon. No more than a few hours ago I watched a skyscraper fall to the ground. People are running wild. Just because you set up a relief station doesn’t mean they’ll react to it or even use it. If anything, they’ll probably just try and loot it like they have with everything else.”

  “I know that,” Mr. Wilson nodded at his daughter, a small smile creeping onto his face as Mary showed just how intelligent she was. He was so proud of her. “We’ll send it outside of the city first, in the direction of Pittsburgh or somewhere. I know we’ll have to find somewhere rural to set things up. I have a feeling this disaster isn’t just going to blow over overnight.”

  Dixon listened carefully to everything Mr. Wilson was saying and nodded. It all made sense. It was their duty to provide aid to the country; he had sworn an oath to protect it and this was a part of that. If relief aid was being sent out, then he wanted to be a part of it.

  “Okay,” Dixon nodded, pulling both Mary and her father’s attention toward him. “Where do I sign up?”

  “What?”

  “If there’s a relief mission being sent out,” Dixon replied to Mr. Wilson’s question. “Then I want to be a part of it. I’m going.”

  “Dixon, no,” Mary pleaded, desperation in her voice. Turning to look at his girlfriend, Dixon didn’t need to say anything. With one glance Mary knew this was what he needed to do and as much as she worried about him, she respected him for it as well. “Okay,” she continued after a short pause, “then I’m coming with you.”

  “You are not!” Mr. Wilson’s voice was stern and serious, the pride he had been feeling for his daughter waning as he heard her resolve. “Mary, it’s far too dangerous for you to go. You have no proper training or skills. You’ll be better off staying here where it’s safe.”

  “You don’t think I have any skills?” Mary immediately retorted, her voice breaking slightly as she spoke.

  “That’s not what I meant, Mary,” Mr. Wilson replied. “You know that. But the people we send out on the relief mission will need to know exactly what they’re doing; we’ve already lost too many good men since all of this happened.”

  “Exactly!” Mary threw her hands up in the air in an exasperated manner. “You’ve lost countless people already, so resources are spread pretty thin. I can help, Dad, I’m not a child anymore. I know what needs to be done.”

  “I can’t lose you out there, Mary,” Mr. Wilson’s voice was much softer now, his vo
ice pleading with his daughter not to go. “I need you to be safe.”

  “I will be,” Mary replied, her tone also softening as she understood what her father was so concerned about. “You need to trust me. I’ll be fine. And Dixon can protect me if anything happens too; he’s already done that once today.”

  “I will, sir,” Dixon coughed, straightening his back as he addressed Mr. Wilson. “You have my word, I won’t let any harm come to your daughter, ever.”

  Turning away from the young couple, Wilson ran a hand through his hair and sighed. It was a near impossible task trying to balance his role protecting and serving his country alongside keeping his daughter safe. He hated to admit it, but Mary was right. They had lost countless good people from the White House staff since the power first cut out and now very few actually remained. The relief missions would need all the support they could find, and Mary would be a valuable asset to them.

  Thinking about it, Wilson knew he hadn’t really meant what he’d said regarding Mary having no training or skills. She was just as well equipped to handle what was happening out there as half of the soldiers running around. Every spare second they’d had during her childhood, Wilson had strived to prepare his daughter for any and all eventualities that might strike. But that wasn’t the problem he was facing. The problem was whether he could bear to part with his daughter, after only just discovering that she was safe.

  “Please, Dad,” Mary’s voice cut through the silence in the underground parking garage. “You know this is the right thing to do.”

  ***

  As the sun started to rise two days later, Mary clutched Dixon’s hand while they sat side by side on the first transport truck to depart. They were part of only a seven-man team, including the driver of the truck, Jared, who was actually the engineer who had first gotten the 4x4 engine working in the White House garage. Having Jared on their team made both Dixon and Mary feel more comfortable. At least if something happened to the truck he would likely be able to deal with the repairs and get them up and running again.

  Alongside Jared the engineer, two other soldiers, Kyle and Mathers, joined them. Dixon was pleased to see both of them again, the young soldiers last involved with him when they believed a terrorist cell had broken into the White House. After a quick reunion, it was confirmed that they hadn’t managed to find any suspicious activity either, and, upsettingly, neither of them had seen Miller since they split up. Though Miller’s whereabouts concerned Dixon, he couldn’t dwell on that fact for too long. They had a new mission to handle and each of them needed to be as prepared and alert as ever.

  Finally, completing the team was another engineer who was tinkering with a handheld radio at the back of the transport vehicle and a middle-aged woman who had volunteered to join from the makeshift hospital wing. It was a rather slapdash group, but Dixon was pleased with the turnout and he was eager to set out and deliver support to his country. Most of the truck was taken up with supplies and once they reached their destination, it would be their job to set up and make sure they were administered properly. Dixon knew it was a big promotion for him in a way, and he was determined to make sure it was done right.

  He also needed to be careful, though. As much as he was thrilled that Mary was by his side, it added another element of danger to the mission in some ways. Dixon, like all other soldiers in his position, had always been taught to favor the many over the few when making tough decisions. What that meant was if you could sacrifice one person in order to save a larger group, you should do it. What worried Dixon was what if Mary happened to be that one person. He knew he could never willingly do anything that would put her in harm’s way, but he didn’t know what would happen if him making that decision meant that other people would get hurt. As the truck started to pull away from the White House, he prayed he would never have to find out.

  It had been difficult enough persuading Mr. Wilson to let Mary join the relief aid. Dixon could understand the arguments very well, knowing that Mr. Wilson was reluctant to put Mary in any further danger, just like he was. Eventually, it was Mary’s tenacity and logic that had won out. That, combined with Mr. Wilson’s steadfast loyalty to his country, meant that they had finally concluded that Mary could leave.

  What Mary wasn’t aware of was the private conversation Dixon had shared with Mr. Wilson the night after he’d agreed to her departure. Mr. Wilson had made Dixon take another oath, swearing to protect Mary until his very last breath. It was something Dixon was happy to do, as he was only agreeing to things he would have done anyway. But it built the pressure up heavier on his shoulders, knowing that he couldn’t let Mr. Wilson down. The man had effectively entrusted Dixon with his most precious cargo and it was up to him to take care of it.

  “Are you all right?” Mary’s sweet voice whispered in Dixon’s ear as he found himself spiraling through his thoughts, the magnitude of the task ahead of them hard to ignore.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he replied, giving her hand a little squeeze. “Just thinking. You ready for this?”

  “Yep,” Mary squeezed Dixon’s hand back firmly in response and looked back over her shoulder. The White House was slowly disappearing from sight in the background and any sign of her father was long gone. “I’m ready.”

  Chapter 5

  Finally seeing Harrison pulling into a deserted old farmhouse ahead, Len let out a sigh of relief. They had been driving along quiet, dusty roads for several hours now and while it meant they had put a lot of distance between them and the labor camp where Amy had been kept, it was still a tiring drive. At least they were certain no one was following them. They’d had a couple of short breaks for water and to allow Harrison to consult his map, but they hadn’t stopped for any longer than five minutes at a time. Now that the light was starting to fade, Len was looking forward to a rest and a seat that didn’t vibrate or shudder beneath him.

  For all his aches and pains from driving the motorcycle, Len had to admit he was quite enjoying it. He’d eventually gotten the hang of handling the vehicle and was able to push it to high speeds without feeling like it was going to topple over. Ahead of him, Amy had mirrored his success, driving comfortably with Maggie on the rear of her bike. Harrison had led the group the entire way and James didn’t appear to have any complaints, the young boy grinning from ear to ear whenever they stopped.

  Easing off on the accelerator, Len slowed his bike down and prepared for the turn into the farmhouse. He could see ahead of him that Harrison and James had both already dismounted, while Amy was just completing the turn. They had driven in the same order the entire way, Len feeling more comfortable with Amy shielded in the middle of the group.

  Stopping the bike didn’t come as easily to Len as the rest of it did and he shuddered to a halt, braking too hard and lurching forward a couple of times before finally coming to rest. Pushing out the kickstand with his foot, Len made sure the bike was secure before swinging his right leg over the vehicle and standing up straight. Immediately he shrugged his rucksack off and let that drop to the ground, relishing the weightless feeling it gave him as he stretched and encouraged his back to crack in several places.

  “Where are we?” Len then directed the question to Harrison, his old friend finishing folding up his map and replacing it in the side of his own rucksack.

  “About an hour outside of Detroit,” Harrison smiled, pleased with the distance they had covered on the bikes. “We’re just beyond the city of Flint.”

  Len shrugged his shoulders in response. Flint didn’t ring any bells, but he was well aware of Detroit. That was definitely a city that they wanted to avoid at all costs. The gang activity was out of control even before everything that happened; he could only imagine what it was like now. Memories of The Latin Kings, the gang he and Harrison had encountered just outside of Chicago, came flooding back to Len, the kidnapping and brutal assault he had suffered at their hands just another part of his journey he knew he would never forget.

  “So, are we spending the night here
then?” Amy questioned, her bike now secured as the others’ were and her rightful place at James’s side regained.

  “Yeah,” Harrison nodded. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here for months. We should be safe overnight. Come on.”

  At Harrison’s order, the group of them picked up their belongings again and started walking to the front door. Len paused halfway, turning to look back at the motorcycles and looking up and down the road for a second.

  “Do you not think we should hide the bikes?” He turned and asked Harrison, the old prepper just about to push open the door to the farmhouse. “At least move them away from the side of the road?”