Around 4:00 a.m., she woke Frank who was instantly ready to start his day. He made coffee and poured a bowl of cereal while Abby stretched out in the hideout, then he said, “I’m going out for a bit, so I’ll be closing this up. You’ll be perfectly fine. No one comes around during the day, not from the government anyway. And if any friends stop by, they’ll see the notice and figure I’ve been caught. But I’ll lock the door anyway.”
Before Abby could protest, he was closing her into the tiny space. Lovely, she thought. Locked up by a psychotic old man who had seemed so normal. Well, maybe not. She decided, since last night and all, that she probably could trust him; regardless, she may as well take advantage of this and get some sleep. She’d been going all day and most of the night and, no matter how this all ended, she’d need to sleep.
In no time at all, Abby was out like a light.
She awoke several hours later to a sound she couldn’t at first identify. Within minutes, Frank appeared as he unscrewed the panel to the hideout. As she crawled out and stretched, relieved to see the old man, he handed her a cup of coffee. Walking over to the small dinette, Abby noticed a package.
“Yep,” said Frank. “I took another trip over to the hospital and got your stuff. Least I could do, really.”
Abby was so grateful that she almost hugged him. She’d had no real idea what Noah needed and certainly was in a quandary over how to obtain it. She stuffed the package into her small pack.
The two sat and talked for a bit before Frank began yawning. Abby insisted he sleep for a while. She went back to the chair by the window, thinking about all the things she’d learned and hoping that Janey had been as successful. She replayed her conversation with Frank, too, as she considered what it all might mean to the rest of the group.
Suddenly, the door to the apartment was thrust open. Abby jumped up but wasn’t quite quick enough. Two soldiers grabbed her arms and pinned them behind her before she could think to even draw her knife.
Determined to remain silent and not give them any satisfaction whatsoever, Abby felt herself being dragged into the hallway. She hoped Frank had heard the commotion— how could he have not—and would do . . . something. She didn’t know what.
The men roughly placed a dark sack over her head and shoved her into an idling car. She soon gave up trying to memorize the turns and stops, hoping that wherever they were taking her wasn’t too far. And then another thought occurred to her.
What if Frank himself had blown the whistle?
At last the engine was killed and two doors opened. Abby was yanked from the car and, with a soldier on either side, half- dragged up a set of steps and into a building. A quick elevator ride and a march down a long corridor, and she was flung into what certainly felt like a concrete cell. A door slammed.
Her hood was pulled off, gently, and as Abby blinked, readjusting to light, a voice said, “Hey, Ab. What took you so long?”
It was Janey. Abby guessed neither of them would be at the rendezvous this evening.
“Can’t believe they nailed you, Ab. Me, I wandered a bit before I found the barracks. One of them, anyway. Hung around for a while, then went into the dining hall. Good dinner, I’ll say that for ‘em!
“Anyway, got to playing cards with a few and then this big guy walks up to me starts asking questions. Then a few more of his big-guy friends joined in.” She sniffed. “Amateurs.”
Abby got it. Janey had taken them all on, foolishly perhaps, although she was sure some of the troops had gotten a thrashing. “So,” said Janey, “After the MPs broke it up, they started questioning me. Don’t look at me like that, Abby, I did fine! But apparently, since they couldn’t find my file, they brought me here.
“And,” she added, “Someone put two and two together and now you get to join the party. Any ideas on how they found you?”
Abby thought of Frank. Yeah, she had some ideas all right.
But she wasn’t talking about them yet.
“I think, instead of how we ended up here, we should be finding a way out.”
“Can’t be done,” said Janey. “Zero exits here except that solid steel door, and miles of concrete everywhere. Our only chance is to slip past the guards or shoot them. And there are a lot of ‘em.”
“Yep,” said Abby. “And I’ll bet they took your ammo too, huh?”
Janey looked aggrieved. “Wish I still had those grenades.”
Abby felt something on her leg. Hard. She jerked up her pants leg and pulled out her knife. They missed this? Really? She hadn’t thought about it in the confusion of her capture—she wasn’t military, never had been. And these guys missed it?
Janey’s jaw dropped. “Not very thorough, are they?”
“Here.” Abby handed the sheath to Janey. “You keep it. You know hand-to-hand combat, you’re trained. For me, it’s a last resort and anyway, the knife’s mostly for skinning animals.”
“Yeah,” said Janey, “I’ll skin me a few animals all right.” She strapped it onto her leg. “Okay, here’s what I learned the last couple days.”
There were around 1500 soldiers in the area, Janey told Abby, under a Colonel Barton. Few were actual US military, mostly the young ones. She’d done some digging on this Colonel Barton but had found little information. They were all being well-paid, though. And most weren’t US citizens at all.
Contracts were specific: no night flights, strict maximum hours on duty, all the benefits. And no limitations, no Geneva Convention rules, nothing. If you got caught, you were on your own.
“Just like we are,” said Janey. She went on for another hour or so about weapons, training, and numbers.
“The reason for their presence is a show of force. Keep the people in line. Smaller population makes it easier to control, unless someone goes off the grid; they’re betting that no one will. It’s simple: you toe the line, you get everything you need and some of what you want, for the right price. Behave yourself, do whatever they want, and you’re fine. One wrong move, and it’s all over.
“Your turn.”
Abby told Janey about Henry and the lines at the hospital. Then she talked about Frank. She left out the part about her capture.
Janey fell silent.
“I can’t live like that,” Abby ventured after a brief time.
“Yeah, no kidding,” Janey said.
There was a clanking sound and the door came open. Two guards entered the room, heavily armed, and grabbed Abby; two more dragged Janey out into the corridor. Abby was dropped onto the floor and the guards left, slamming and locking the door again.
Fast movers, thought Abby as she rubbed her bruised hip. Damn. She scooted over into a corner to get as comfortable as possible and . . . wait. She wondered where they’d taken Janey.
And if they were bringing her back.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Abby didn’t have long to wonder. Within two hours, Janey, or what was left of her, was deposited back in the cell. She was barely recognizable.
Deep bruises covered every inch of exposed skin and, considering the rags that were all that remained of her clothing, there were a lot of those bruises. Blood trickled slowly from her ears and her mouth. Her breathing was raspy and labored.
Abby crouched next to her. “Janey,” she whispered. There was no water, nothing she could do for her. She touched her hand, gently.
Janey opened one eye, barely, just a slit. “Capsule,” she croaked. Abby hesitated. “Dying . . . told nothing. Now . . . please.”
Abby dug through Janey’s pockets, finally finding the capsule that Noah had given her. Still, she paused. With surprising strength, Janey grabbed her arm, jolting Abby back to the moment.
She bit her lip and, reluctantly, placed the capsule in Janey’s mouth. “Thanks . . . don’t . . . give up . . . Ab.” And Janey bit down, hard.
And that was all.
Abby released Janey’s hand. The door clanged open again and Abby whirled around, crouched, ready to spring. Two guards entered and stood
to either side of the doorway. An older man, in uniform, pins and ribbons and badges on his chest, entered; he was accompanied by two other soldiers, not regular troopers but of some rank.
“My dear,” said Frank. “The colonel wishes to speak with you. You will please come with us.”
Abby couldn’t find her voice. So it was Frank, all this time. And she—and Janey! Abby was too angry to even sputter. She jumped to her feet, prompting an unholstering of weapons, and stomped out the door. Frank took her arm as they strolled down the corridor.
“Do not try to escape.” He squeezed her arm painfully.
The six of them rode to the top of the building, crowded into the elevator. At least Abby had figured out where she was being held. The Federal Building, downtown. Made sense. As much as anything.
Her mind was spinning. Escape. Frank. The colonel? What did he want with her? She could guess, certainly. The same thing they’d come in search of: information.
Well, he wasn’t going to get it. She surreptitiously felt the inside pocket of her jeans. Yes, it was still there. Noah’s capsule.
A guard opened a door to a small reception area. The two guards remained outside, the two ranking officers followed Abby and Frank inside. They stood at attention while Frank led Abby into the inner office. It was empty.
Frank pulled off his hat and loosened his tie. “Quick,” he told Abby. “Don’t have much time.” He handed her a knife; the same one she’d given Janey.
She blinked. “But . . . what?” she stuttered. “What?”
“Damn, girl, come on!” Frank was already removing one his maintenance panels. “Get inside!”
He pushed her along, crawling in with her, and replaced the panel. Taking the lead, Frank began to move. A whole lot faster than Abby’d seen him go before. They came to a cross-pipe which descended to the left and Frank tumbled down it, Abby right behind him.
They landed with a thud or, rather, a series of thuds, onto a pile of trash. As they brushed themselves off, Frank held up a hand, motioning Abby to silence. Then he relaxed, and strode confidently over to small window set high in the wall. It opened easily; Abby suspected this wasn’t the first time Frank had been down here.
With few difficulties, they climbed outside into the darkness. Abby was nearly bursting with questions by the time they arrived at Frank’s apartment building. Instead of going up the stairs to his place, though, Frank led her around back. He boosted her onto the dumpster and clambered up behind her, pulling down the fire escape ladder.
Up they went, then through a conveniently open window. An elderly woman greeted them with, “It’s about time. I almost gave up on you two.”
Frank walked directly to a closet without greeting the woman and disappeared. Abby stood in the middle of the room, awkwardly waiting for him to reappear.
“Well, Frank was right. You are a pretty thing. In spite of the dirt,” she laughed. “Here, come on over to the sink and get yourself cleaned up.”
With nothing else to do for the moment, Abby did. She felt a little better. And by then, Frank had returned.
He handed her the Mossberg. It had been in his hideout when Abby was taken in, and the guards had shown no interest in her pack near the kitchen table. He gave her that, too.
“Couldn’t get your sidearm back, but I pulled this out of my stash.” Abby looked carefully at the Beretta. It looked new. “Ammo’s in the side pocket of your pack.”
“Does she have time to eat something, Frank?” The old woman was pulling some cans out of the cabinet and had slapped a skillet on the stove.
“Nope, sorry. Been here long enough. Now, Abby, do you know where you’re going?”
Abby nodded. “I’m heading west. But . . . aren’t you coming, Frank?”
“Nah,” he said. “I’m staying put. I’ll be okay. Besides, when you come back, I’ll be right here, ready for whatever trouble you get yourself into.” He winked.
Frank helped Abby through the window and watched as she started down the alley. He was tired. Too much running for an old man. He wondered if he’d ever see her again. Damn, that had been fun!
It was full dark now, which suited Abby just fine. She had over twenty miles to travel, and that was a straight shot. She had no doubt that she’d have to make a few detours along the way and that, by the time the sun rose, she’d better be under cover.
She kept a sharp eye out, in spite of the limited visibility, and listened carefully as she walked. Soon she was able to tune out anything extraneous but still remain alert.
She tried to think, to plan, but so many things had happened too quickly and she finally gave up. And walked.
Abby stopped near dawn at an abandoned barn near what used to be Maryville University. She crawled into a shadowy corner and leaned back against her pack after trolling through a side pocket and finding a couple sandwiches. Frank’s lady friend must have put them in there. She drained one of her water bottles as well, and made a mental note to replenish that just before she fell into a deep sleep.
The sun was already well to the west when Abby awoke. Shocked that she had slept for so long, she wished desperately that she had some coffee. Since she had some time before sunset, she pulled out her knife and her whetstone and sharpened the blade.
Next, she disassembled and cleaned the shotgun and reloaded and, finally, examined her new Beretta. Frank had done well, indeed.
Ready to go but waiting until dark, rested, fed, and prepared, Abby was at last able to go back over the events of the last few days.
First, there was the devastation…the physical loss of civilization. Surely, all those people couldn’t simply be dead . . . gone . . . vanished. But they were. Along with their homes, their possessions. And those who’d somehow escaped VADER, the survival difficulties afterwards—they were in the city. And most, it appeared, were at least content with the status quo. She’d met no one who wasn’t.
Abby thought of Henry, the man/boy who’d waited on her in that restaurant. She wondered what would become of him, with his disabilities and yet his impossible plans for the future. Surely he wouldn’t survive; she was positive that much worse was coming and he’d be an early casualty. An easy target.
The hospital. That was simply appalling. Unreal. Yet it had been almost a festive atmosphere, at least on the west side. The other line? All of those older people were alone—that’s what struck her. No one to see them off, no families? Of course, the families had perhaps been dead since last summer. Still, it was strange.
And that led to Frank. She’d saved him from the death line, he’d risked his life for her. At least three times. He could have left the city with her but he chose to stay, to help people like that woman who’d made her the sandwiches; someone who probably had avoided the death line as long as he, somehow. And she knew, if he stayed alive, he’d be there to help her again if she came back.
Janey.
No, she couldn’t think about that yet. She knew she would, yes, but not until she was a lot safer than she was now. Maybe back at the base camp. Maybe when she’d returned to the others. Maybe.
Abby stood up and stretched, shouldered her pack and the shotgun, and set off down the darkening road, senses alert to the sounds of the night.
Abby retrieved her supplies from the base camp and checked her watch. It was just past midnight; she could get in another six hours of travel. She headed due south, cross-country, avoiding most of the roads.
She was just north of Cedar Hill, just past daylight, when she had to stop. She was worn out and needed to find a spring and get some rest. This was farm country, so the cover was minimal; the town itself had likely been demolished, as had so many others. She saw a frame house up ahead, mostly standing but leaning as though a strong wind had come through recently. Or perhaps due simply to age and lack of maintenance for many months.
At any rate, Abby was grateful for the shelter; patrols could fly over at any time. She was even more grateful when she discovered an old cistern in the yard, and
hoped it would still churn up water.
She worked the rusty handle, not too optimistic, but very soon the handle became harder to turn and suddenly a gush of water came pouring out. She kept at it until the water ran clear, then set an old bucket under the spout to catch what she could.
After stowing her gear on the sagging porch, Abby collapsed just inside the door of what used to be a kitchen. It had been ransacked by animals and there was a huge mess but she really didn’t care. She cleared a spot for her bedroll and fell asleep immediately.
She was awakened by rain as the strong wind blew the drops through the swinging door. Shaking her head to clear the bad dreams that had plagued her all night or, rather, all day, she sat up and took stock.
Remembering what Janey had told her, she figured it was safe to start off now. She didn’t care about rain, and so far there was no thunder or lightning—always a consideration when walking in the woods. She checked her weapons and stowed her bedroll in the pack and set off, angling east.
Barring anything unforeseen, she should be at the camp just after sunset. Now that her mission was near completion, Abby could allow herself to think about Emmy and Juliet and the others. And Noah.
As Abby approached the base of Purple, she could feel eyes watching and was sure there were guns following her movement. She’d missed Sandy up at the main gate but assumed she’d simply been camouflaged better than usual.
She heard a click as she reached the base of the trail that lead upward, and froze. Realizing in a split second that it was merely a safety being clicked on, Abby was practically knocked over when Emmy ran out and grabbed her.
“Oh, Abby! Thank goodness you’re back!” Four more people came out of the trees, holstering weapons and smiling. The group made their way to the site, Emmy clinging to Abby’s arm and chattering. No one could have missed hearing their arrival.
Cal and Pops emerged from the command tent and Noah arrived, Juliet on his shoulders. Before the questions could begin in earnest, Cal directed Abby to her tent. She did allow Juliet to come along, which was a moot point; Juliet wasn’t going anywhere without Abby.
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