Abby sat down beside Cal. “Okay, what’s up?”
Cal looked around and said, in a low voice, “I need you to do some scouting. Outside the camp. Come by my tent later.” She got up to leave, but paused to speak briefly with Noah.
Eventually, everyone returned to their tents, some glancing anxiously upward. Abby tucked in Juliet and left her with Emmy while she made her way to Cal’s. She was a little surprised to see Noah and Pops there as well, but Noah brushed past her on his way out without a word. Their friendship had been rather strained since Christmas Eve.
“Abby,” said Cal. “We’ve decided to send you outside for an extended mission. We need to know what’s going on; specifically, who is doing what and where.
“This will be short-term, and you’ll have the radio for any emergency. You’ll leave in the morning and we expect you back within two weeks. Unless something happens.”
Cal reached into her pocket and handed Abby a single capsule. “From Noah. If you need it.” They looked at each other for a long moment.
“Got it,” said Abby, breaking the spell.
“Here, Abby.” Pops handed her a sheet of paper. “Look this over, get the gist, memorize what you can. We’ll talk more after dinner.” He squeezed her shoulder and smiled. Abby walked outside into the sunshine, shivering just a bit.
She spent the afternoon packing, checking her weapons, sharpening her knife. She read over the paper that Pops had given her, quickly memorizing it. It was standard reconnaissance, with the added twist of intel gathering. Where, if any, there were troops stationed; whether or not they were mobile or stationary. What was their purpose and how aware were they of the presence of those in the camp. Not too difficult.
Not easy.
After dinner, Abby worked with Juliet until the little girl’s bedtime, helping her whittle a large stick. She was making something for Pops, a surprise. Just as Abby was tucking her in, she jumped up with a shriek—Noah suddenly appeared.
He gave Juliet a good-night kiss, then turned to Abby. He looked directly at her for the first time in many weeks, then turned away. “Be careful, Abby,” was all he said.
Abby did not respond. She walked over to Cal’s tent and slipped inside.
“The fact that they were caught so close to the gates is a definite cause for concern. Abby, we need to find out what’s going on, but I don’t want you going too far out—or in, as the case may be. In other words, make sure we’re secure here, but learn what you can. And, if all else fails . . .”
Cal’s voice trailed off. She didn’t want Abby to go, she didn’t want any of this to actually be happening, but there you have it. It was necessary, all of it. They’d been too long without real news, without knowing the status of Co-opCom, the biological disaster, anything at all. Sitting around and wondering when you were going to be captured for whatever reason just wasn’t working out—they needed to be safe, and they needed information.
Abby stood to leave and hugged Cal. They clung together for long minutes, finally stepping back and trying not to show their fears. Abby cleared her throat, but couldn’t speak. She stepped outside to meet Emmy at the fire pit.
The girls sat together, in silence, for a long time. Emmy put her arm around Abby’s shoulders. A light mist began to fall.
At last, Abby arose pulling Emmy with her. They walked back to their tent, arm in arm, still silent.
Morning came, damp and cool. The sun was just beginning to rise when Abby kissed a still-sleeping Juliet goodbye and walked outside. Bob started to crawl out from under Juliet’s bunk; she told him to stay. She paused at Noah’s bunk, but kept going. Nothing good would come from waking him, nothing but false hope, perhaps.
Emmy and Cal met her outside, with a mug of coffee of course. Cal gave her a few last-minute instructions and then she was off to learn whatever she could about the enemy. If, indeed, there was an enemy.
Abby walked on the side of the road leading out of the camp, under the canopy of trees that were just beginning to show tiny leaves. Not much cover, but some. She kept an eye on the sky, just in case. When she reached the gates, Sandy appeared.
“See you soon, Ab. Take care.” Sandy tried to smile, and almost managed. She squeezed Abby’s hand and retreated into the brush.
There was more cover here, and more shade. Looked like it was going to be warmer than usual today. Abby continued down the road until she reached a pair of old grain bins set almost directly at the edge of the pavement. She ducked between them and paused to get her bearings and decide on a route.
She took a drink from her water bottle and began to climb, heading east. She knew there’d been a few more houses built in the area in the last couple of years, but was pretty sure most were south of the camp. As she neared the top of the hill, she slowed her pace, watching the birds for any signs of nearby humans. Or whatever.
The birds continued to sing and occasionally she could hear small animals in the brush. The sun was climbing and the day was warming. Up ahead, Abby could see a faint outline of a roof. She swung the Mossberg off her shoulder and clicked off the safety, holding the gun in a ready position. Silently, one step at a time, she approached the small frame house. The door was ajar.
She slowly circled the yard, keeping inside the trees, but heard no sounds coming from the house. A few quick strides and she was up against an outer wall, near the corner of the front porch. Shifting the shotgun to her left hand, she drew the .357 with her right and warily walked up the steps.
Still no sounds. Abby kicked open the front door and jumped to the side, back against the wall. Nothing. Cautiously, she began to step inside and noticed a rifle lying on the floor. What used to be human hands were still clutching the butt of the gun, and what used to be, possibly, a man, was lying next to it.
She quickly took in the small room and the hallway leading to the back of the house. Nothing. A couch was set against the south wall and on it rested the remains of more people, residents of the home she assumed; it appeared to be a woman and two young children.
If Abby had to guess, she’d say the man had died from defending his family against…something. Or perhaps they’d all died from contracting VADER. Impossible to be sure, since there wasn’t a great deal left to work with. At any rate, violence itself could probably be ruled out.
Quickly and thoroughly, Abby checked the rest of house. Two bedrooms, a bath, a kitchen. That was all. No one else. Since the door had been left open, the inside was in pretty bad shape but, far as Abby could tell, no humans had been here. Just animals, wandering, nesting, making messes. Even the fridge door was hanging open, and most of the cabinets.
Abby began loading up what could be useful, canned goods mostly, and building a pile on the front porch. She’d holstered her sidearm and set the Mossberg down on the kitchen table, along with her heavy backpack.
She took the first load out to the woods beyond the clearing, along with the shotgun, and quickly created a cache for the supplies. Just one more trip finished the job and she went back inside to search for other items.
In the first bedroom, she discovered two boxes of shotgun shells and in the second, some clothing she thought would fit Juliet. Lord knows it had been hard enough to keep the girl warm over the winter with too-large clothing and shoes. These would keep, as long as the animals didn’t get into them before Abby could return.
She made one more trip to her cache, then loaded up and started walking. She wanted be much farther away from that scene before she stopped for lunch because, although she’d done her job efficiently, the whole thing was too depressing and brought to the forefront the entire situation.
She climbed the next hill before stopping and ate a quick sandwich. After a smoke, she fieldstripped her cigarette and stretched out for a few minutes. As the crow flies, she’d only traveled about half a mile; up and down hills and hacking through the brush, however, translated to twice that in measurement and double again for effort.
Abby began to walk again and
came to a wide, open area. She skirted it to the north, since that would be her general direction anyway, and looked up. Still nothing, just a clear blue sky with a few puffy white clouds.
Moving slightly northeast, Abby removed her jacket and tied it around her waist. She was halfway to Marble Springs Road by mid-afternoon and had still encountered no one, either friend or enemy.
Due east from her position was Patterson Road, Marble Springs was still slightly to the northeast where it dipped south. Pausing for a moment, Abby moved toward Patterson. She knew there were a few homes scattered along that road and fervently hoped they were entirely unoccupied, by the living or the dead.
First, however, she had to cross the wide, cleared strip where the power lines had been set. Scanning the skies, she saw nothing. Running wasn’t going to be easy, given how loaded down she was, but it was obviously the quickest route back to safety. Taking another look upward and a deep breath, she ran in a straight line for the trees a hundred yards away.
Then she heard it. The distinct whine of the same choppers that had flattened the town last fall. She ducked and rolled, coming to her feet just inside the forest.
Abby calmed her breathing and moved back into the shadows.
As she watched, hidden, the six choppers flew down the length of the utility easement in formation. None slowed or broke rank and, thankfully, they continued south.
Abby turned and broke into a long, fast stride, wanting to put as much distance between the choppers and her as quickly as possible. Focused on the sound of the blades, she nearly blundered into a barn before getting herself under control.
Stopping short, she yanked out her gun and clicked off the safety in one motion. She froze, barely breathing. Nothing. She moved stealthily to the side of the barn and crept around the corner. Still nothing.
As she rounded the front, she could see what remained of a house. Flattened and burned, just like the town. She breathed easier, deciding she was alone.
Abby consulted her map; another house was located directly south of her, but neither of these were actually on Patterson itself. She decided to make camp between the two, as the second needed to be checked as well. She figured it would be a quick jaunt in the morning as, more than likely, that house was in the same condition.
Morning proved her right, so she continued up Patterson, keeping well out of sight, until she reached Marble Springs. By her calculations, she was directly east of the old infirmary where they’d originally set up a site; about a mile and a half in a straight line, just over two if one accounted for the hills.
No more demolished homes, and no more human remains, left Abby in a slightly more cheerful mood than the previous day. So far, so good. She was missing Emmy and Juliet; she didn’t allow herself to think of Noah at all.
By early afternoon she had re-crossed the power line easement with no signs of choppers and had covered nearly two miles. She stopped for a sandwich and refilled her water bottle from a small spring. Rabbits and birds were everywhere, showing her that, if there were people around, they weren’t much into hunting. Knowing the area well, she doubted that last part.
Abby turned north toward the road. There were few homes along Marble Springs, but they needed to be checked. No signs of anyone in the woods meant they were either holed up, or gone. She stopped near dusk, several hundred yards from the road, and made a cold camp. It wasn’t miserable, but still a bit chilly at night this early in the spring.
The rain began before the sun rose. At first a trickle, it quickly turned into a downpour. Even Abby, with her excellent vision, was having trouble seeing more than a few yards around her in spite of the tree cover.
She decided to wait it out and spent a few minutes reinforcing the branches she’d woven overhead. She dreaded the forced stop, knowing she’d have too much time to think.
The good news was that those choppers, if they came back in this deluge at all, wouldn’t be able to see any better than she could. Unless they were using infrared.
Damn. Nevertheless, she started a small fire to heat some soup and try to take off the chill a bit from her wet clothes, gambling on the chance that no one would send out aircraft in this weather.
Suddenly, she remembered the capsule that Cal had given her. She pulled it out and looked at, idly wondering how Noah had obtained it. Wondering, too, what he had thought of Cal’s plan in case of Abby’s capture. She wasn’t too worried about Noah, or Juliet; she knew Emmy would take of the little girl. She just didn’t want to think about things, period.
By late afternoon the rain had stopped. Abby changed into dry clothes, doused her small fire, and prepared to hike up to the road. She planned to leave her pack and her shelter, taking only the water bottle and her weapons.
She found three homes, all on the north side of the road. Two were demolished, one abandoned. She wondered why one remained standing, but decided that wasn’t important. There were no signs of life, and no signs of any recent occupation.
Somewhat tired and dispirited, Abby returned to her camp. The sun was out, but setting, when she heard the choppers again.
Under heavy cover in the woods, Abby could see nothing, but she could hear them all right. She shuddered. Something about those sleek black machines, as well as their firepower, gave her the creeps.
As the sound faded, she relaxed and finally drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Over the next three days, Abby covered almost four miles and checked half a dozen houses. The county was simply deserted. The most noteworthy thing she’d discovered was the family in the first house, so very near to the camp. The rest of the homes were either demolished or empty.
The weather held until nearly the end of the first week, when the temperature dropped to the mid-30s. A few flurries fell, but the skies cleared quickly. Abby didn’t dare build a fire, even under shelter, as she’d been hearing those choppers every day now. She shivered through the night, and was up and moving along with the sun.
Now she was moving south and, encountering nothing but a second utility easement, reached Rice Road within just a few days. She looked longingly towards the east where the campsite was just over the next ridge, but kept going.
That night, she slept poorly, waking from unspeakable nightmares that her subconscious refused to allow her to remember. She was left with a vague feeling of unease that lasted until the following night.
She camped on Cardiac Hill, near the site of the old camp corral. It was tempting to call down for Emmy to come visit, or to just backtrack a bit and go over the top of Purple to the campsite—but she wasn’t finished yet. Rice Road had had more of a population than the other places she’d been and there might even be someone around.
With a sigh, Abby curled up in her bedroll and drifted off, sleeping soundly for the first time in more than a week.
After breakfast, Abby loaded her pack and shouldered the Mossberg, anxious to finish and get back to camp. She hiked down a faint trail, still visible after all these years, that came around well behind the lake and should end very near the road.
As she hacked her way through some scrub cedar, she heard the choppers again. Hunkering down, becoming still, she listened. They seemed to be a bit north, hovering. Abby bit her lip. They could very well be right over the campsite which, as camouflaged as it was, wouldn’t bear close scrutiny.
There was nothing she could do. Nothing. It would take half a day or more to climb back up there under optimal conditions and by then, well . . . it would all be over. If indeed the choppers were there, watching and waiting.
Abby shook her head to clear the images that formed. Keep going, she told herself. Do your job, then go back. Unless you hear something. Surely someone would get word to her . . . if it was hopeless.
Finally, the sounded faded.
When Abby reached the edge of the woods, she faced a dilemma: too much open space. Whether she went left or right or straight ahead, she had to cross at least a hundred yards or more of field
and road.
She had three choices, none of them particularly good. She could make camp here and wait. She could go to the east, then south across the road; take it in two steps instead of a mad dash over a longer distance. Or she could make a run for it.
She chose the latter.
She heard the choppers, again, just as she crossed the pavement, and dove into the woods, coming up with her .357 in hand. She pulled back into the shadows even more, watching the sky.
They hovered, descending, for a mere minute, then took off, flying northeast. Back to St. Louis, Abby thought. That’s where they needed to go, to find information. Not here. Nothing here but the group up at the camp. And that, she knew, was who they were looking for.
She followed Rice Road, staying in the woods, until the woods ran out. That’s where she camped for the night, another cold camp, but the weather was fine and so she endured. She relaxed a bit, having a supper of jerky and dried fruit. Made the last of her coffee too, drinking it cold, but needing a jolt to her brain to counteract the stress of the day.
All right, Abby, she told herself. Think. You’ve found nothing yet, no people, few homes standing. Yet the choppers keep coming.
The question was why.
Noah had said that 95% of the population had succumbed to VADER and there were only about 150,000 left in the St. Louis area. That covered a lot of territory, but they were a good 50 miles south of the city center. Abby wracked her brain trying to recall the population of the county here. Maybe 200,000 before? A few more?
She figured perhaps 10,000 survived. Maybe. Subtracting the numbers in the bombed town, there would be even fewer. Mike and his group, however, had been taken. Not killed. So there could be other survivors, held somewhere? Abby didn’t know.
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