The answer was always the same: they did everything they could with the information they had at the time. They defended the government, but were they just being kind to save me from thinking too hard about it?
I don’t know. I wish they were here to ask. It never seemed too important when they were alive. We were in the bunker and the deed was done. There was no point in continually going over history when there wasn’t anything that could be done about it.
Philip had been very scathing about the president when I told him of our plan to come here. Perhaps his attitude is closer to the real thing than the sweet lies my parents told me. Maybe everyone lost hope in the people that were supposed to keep them safe.
If only these walls could talk. I’m sure they would have plenty of stories to tell me.
“Found anything interesting in there?” Garlind’s question startles me. I was too deep in my own thoughts to hear him sneak up on me.
“Only more questions,” I reply.
He spots the graffiti and stands before it, reading. “Intense.”
“Yeah. I think people destroyed this building because they were angry the government didn’t do more to save them.”
“I’d be pretty angry too.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
“Rhys found an apartment we can stay in across the road. He thinks it will be safe for the night.”
I nod. It’s going to be dark soon and there is no telling what, or who, is still stalking around the city. “I’d like to explore here for a little longer. I’ll catch up with you.”
“Do you want some company?”
“You don’t need to babysit me.”
“I know.”
I look him in the eyes and try to read what’s behind them. His brown eyes are still a mystery to me. “I want to find the oval office. You’re welcome to search with me if you want to. Otherwise I don’t mind going alone.”
“I’ll stay.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets and starts toward the door to his right. I guess that means we’re exploring together. Given the option, I will always choose to have him with me. I just don’t want him to feel like he has to.
We search in comfortable silence for about an hour as we weave through rooms and trip over debris. It’s just room after room with no real clues about what used to happen within the walls. It grows too dark to continue on without using our flashlights and we can’t spare the batteries for mere curiosity.
We don’t find the oval office.
Maybe tomorrow, I’ll be able to find an excuse to come back and keep looking. I don’t know why I want to see the president’s office so much, but I do. It was once witness to some of the most powerful decisions in the world. It hosted some of the most powerful people in the world. I imagine I would be able to feel all that energy emanating from the walls. But it’s probably just wishful thinking.
The apartment Rhys discovers is across a large lawn in front of the White House building. A road forms a square around it with the tall grass blurring the lines of where the pavement starts and the lawn begins.
Two-thirds of the apartment building has been destroyed but the unit on the second floor is largely intact. Only one of the rooms has a large hole in the side where it has been wiped out. It appears to have been a bathroom. The bathtub is split in two with half of it missing.
We decide to have someone on watch all night. As usual, I take the first shift. I sit by the window and look out over the square below. It’s very dark and the destroyed buildings cast weird shadows everywhere. It’s deathly quiet and still.
I get to sleep after my three-hour shift and wake again in the morning. It was an uneventful night and we’ve all managed to rest peacefully.
The next day, I’m outvoted on our day’s activities. Instead of returning to the White House like I wanted to, we’re scouring the rest of the city in search of any signs of the remaining government or military.
It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack. I hate clichés but that’s the best analogy I can conjure. There is so much to see in the city and only four of us. It’s not safe enough to split up so we have to work in a group and can only cover a limited amount.
We search the city for days. Each night we find a new place to sleep so we don’t backtrack. We get farther away from the White House with every hour that passes.
One the fourth day of searching, we start off in the direction of the National World War Two Memorial. Behind it runs a long empty concrete structure that was once filled with water. It’s a huge open area that leads to an equally impressive building at the other end.
The pavement has started to raise and become uneven as the weeds and grass are reclaiming the area. This world really likes to trip us up and this space is no different. It’s impossible to avoid stepping on any cracks.
The memorial is eerie to look at as it stands high in amongst all the destruction. For some reason, it hasn’t been crumbled to the ground. Why spare this one when so many others have fallen? It all seems so random.
We walk the straight line from the memorial to the white building at the end. This one is still standing too. It’s a large rectangle with columns holding it together. We take the many stairs up to the open-air platform.
The Lincoln Memorial is covered in a layer of green algae but that is the only damage. I can still see the smooth plains of President Abraham Lincoln’s face and his hands that rest on the stone chair he perches on.
It’s much taller in person than I thought it would be. The pictures I’ve seen didn’t put in a scale for comparison. I have to tilt my head back just to see the top of his head.
“It’s amazing,” Sarah gasps.
“Who is it supposed to be?” Rhys asks.
“Abraham Lincoln,” I reply, then explain briefly who he was. It’s times like this that I have to remember not everyone had the luxury of reading books like I have. Surviving was much more important than learning about history.
“I’m surprised it’s still here,” Garlind comments.
Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. At first, I think it’s one of the others but they are all standing in the opposite direction. They haven’t noticed something like I have.
I could swear the movement was a person. It was big enough to be a fully-grown adult. I’d like to think I know the different between a person and other possibilities like a stray bird or mutant animal.
I’m so sure that I quickly follow in the same direction it headed. If it was a person and they pose a threat, we need to get out of here. I have to know who it was. I wander in the direction it went.
“Everything all right, Maisy?” Garlind asks.
“I think I saw something,” I reply distractedly.
I’m vaguely aware that they follow me a few paces behind. Through a security door is another room. It’s an empty chamber with nothing but another door inside. I push on it and it opens. It has a set of stairs that lead upwards into the daylight. I take the steps two at a time to see where it goes.
It leads up to the roof. The area is all open and visible. The person it not up here. There is nothing but dirt and dust that has been blown here over the last couple of decades.
The person couldn’t have come up here. There is nowhere for them to hide and they couldn’t have used the roof to jump to another building as there is nothing around it.
It’s like they just disappeared.
I ignore the questions from the others as I try to work out what happened. Did I just imagine the person? I replay it in my head over and over again as I try to dissect every frame.
There was movement in my peripheral vision. I saw something large move quickly to the room we just left. I know I saw something, I know I didn’t imagine it. There was definite movement in the memorial.
The others follow me back to the room. My gaze scans all the corners as I search for something I might have missed the first time.
He can’t have disappeared into thin air.
I know I saw him.
My visual scan reveals nothing but I’m not giving up. I’m not going crazy so I have to find out where he went. It has to be something in this room.
I run my hand along each wall in turn. I let my fingers feel for each curve of the stonework to try to find an inconsistency. My fingertips can feel way more than I can see. The stone walls are cold and smooth but some areas are more worn than others.
On the third wall, I find something. My fingers skim over a line in the smooth stone. If I try hard enough, my nail can follow the line upwards and downwards.
I don’t stop until I trace the outlines of a door. When I look hard enough, I can just see it. The fit is so close and smooth that it’s almost invisible. But it is there.
“There’s a door here,” I announce. The others all perk up with attention. “Help me open it.”
It takes all four of us to get it to budge even a little. With no handle, we have to put pressure on one edge until it pops open the opposite end. As soon as we have a gap wide enough to get a hand in, we pull it open the rest of the way.
We all have to put our weight into pulling it fully open. The door has to be made out of stone for it to be so damned heavy. I’m puffed and sweating by the time we manage it.
Finally, we can see what is beyond.
Three guns are pointed directly at us.
Chapter 18
For a moment, all I can see is the barrel of the guns. I think they’re assault rifles but I’m no gun expert. Sarah probably knows the make, model, and how to clean them.
My gaze drifts upwards as our bodies freeze. Their hands are gloved in black, their sleeves are khaki, their faces are pure concentration.
They look like soldiers.
All three of the men are in army fatigues with pristine black boots and caps that are perfectly straight on their heads. Their eyes are as focused as a laser directly on us.
“Don’t move!” the middle one yells at us.
We all raise our hands in the air to surrender. While I really don’t want to be captured by a group like Philip’s again, I also don’t want to be shot dead right now. It’s the lesser of two evils that makes me yield to their command.
“We mean you no harm,” Garlind says quickly.
“On the ground! On the ground!” the middle one yells repeatedly until we make slow and deliberate moves to lie on the cold stone floor.
There is no more conversation as the soldiers move in unison. They each stand over us and pull our hands behind our backs. Sarah is left to last—presumably the least threatening one of us all. Little do they know.
Zip ties secure our hands together as we’re left immobile. My shoulders are still sore from being tied up the first time. I’m not liking that this is becoming a habit. I thought for sure we were much safer this time. We’ve taken all kinds of precautions so we stay out of trouble.
Apparently, trouble likes to find us.
“Get up and start walking. The first of you to try something funny gets shot. No sudden movements,” the soldier orders. I’ve lost track of which one—they all look alike in their uniforms.
I’m pulled up by my shoulder with such force that I almost fall over again straight away. I have to take a step forward to regain my balance again. I count my breaths to make sure I’m still enough not to anger the soldier at my back.
He shoves me forward with the barrel of his gun and I start walking. Garlind and Rhys go first with a soldier assigned to each of them. The guy terrorizing me has both Sarah and I to contend with.
There is a long, narrow corridor behind the secret door. We’re marched to the end of it and then around a few corners. We eventually stop outside closed elevator doors made out of shiny stainless steel.
The doors slide open as soon as the call button is pressed. They have electricity here, I tuck that piece of information away to think about later. I’ve never seen a working elevator in my entire life. I thought they were only used in very posh buildings.
We are pushed inside and more buttons are pressed, including some kind of security code. There are three levels to choose from on the control panel. G—for Ground, where we started, and then B1 and B2. The lift moves downward, below ground.
I’m terrified about what awaits us when the doors slide open again. We’ve gone down to B1, presumably one level underground.
As we are shuffled down another long corridor, we pass more soldiers. Everybody is in uniform but not many of them carry guns. They all seem fairly at ease and not worried by our presence here. I guess they are the ones with all the power, why be scared of a group of teenagers and a little girl?
Electric lights cast a bright glow along the tunnel. They have to have a seriously big operation here to be able to generate so much electricity. There is no main powerplant or grid they can plug into anymore, they have to be making it themselves.
A little flicker of hope flutters in my stomach. Perhaps these are the exact people we were looking for? Maybe I’ll find out if they don’t kill us first.
We are all silent as we’re led to a room with a series of seats lined up against the wall. “Sit. Stay. Don’t move or you’ll be shot,” we’re ordered.
His instructions are easy to follow but I can’t help feel the fear unfurling within me. Even if this does turn out to be the US Army, we have a long way to go before they’ll trust us enough not to shoot. It’s not like we’re exactly valuable to them—more of a liability, really.
One of the soldiers is left while the other two leave. He stands by the door with his gun pointed in our direction. The door makes a loud bang as it swings closed.
I look toward Garlind to see if he’s got any thoughts. He gives me a shrug of his shoulders in response. Our best course of action is to sit and wait. It’s not exactly exciting but it’s better than being shot. It also shows the soldiers that we can follow directions.
So, please, don’t shoot us.
A clock on the wall ticks loudly in our silence. It’s twelve minutes past two in the afternoon. I haven’t seen a working clock since I left the bunker. The constant tick tick tick is somehow reassuring.
After fifteen minutes have passed, the door opens again. A man in a black suit with a white shirt comes sweeping into the room. He’s wearing a red tie that makes him look comically overdressed for this new world.
I’ve never seen anyone without a single wrinkle in their clothes. This man is the exception. Does he walk around with an iron for wrinkle emergencies?
He stands in front of us, his gaze tearing each of us apart with his unspoken words. He’s probably in his forties—around my dad’s age when he died. His black hair is starting to turn silver with a few noticeable streaks.
His black shoes are as shiny as the soldiers’.
He takes a breath. “I’m going to ask you a few questions. If you don’t answer me honestly, I will order Private Lewis here to shoot you. The first bullet will be to your leg. Do it a second time and it will be your heart. Understand?”
We all nod.
“I can’t hear you!”
“I understand,” the four of us say together with voices louder than usual.
The man starts pacing. “You will address me as ‘sir’. I will not take any insubordination in my barracks. Now, do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” we reply. Somehow, we’ve turned into a single robot voice.
“Good.” He nods appreciatively. “We should get along just fine. Which one of you wants to do all the talking right now?”
“I will, sir,” Garlind replies instantly. A rush of relief floods through me. Garlind will know what to say, he’ll know what needs to be done in this situation. The rest of us can just behave and nothing bad will happen—in theory.
“What is your name, son?”
“Garlind Donovan, sir.”
“Mr. Donovan, tell me what you and your group here were doing in the Lincoln Monument today.”
Garlind sits a little straighter. “We have been searchi
ng Washington DC for the US Army, or what could remain of it. We have information about the aliens that we believe might be of use in the event of a war against them.”
“Those are some big words you’re using. Aliens. War. Information. What makes you think there is anything new you can tell us?”
I notice he doesn’t question the US Army part of Garlind’s explanation. Does that mean we have really found them? I hold my breath to stop my heart from racing.
“We don’t know for sure, sir,” Garlind continues. “But we have been travelling for a long time to deliver this information and we can only hope it wasn’t for nothing.”
“What makes you think there are aliens out there, son?”
“We’ve seen them, sir. On many occasions. We’ve also seen their apparent base of operations in Charleston, North Carolina.”
That makes the man stop and think. Perhaps he now understands that we’re not some crazy crockpots that are trying to play in a world where we don’t belong. We do actually know what we’re talking about.
Hopefully.
The man crosses his arms and relaxes his shoulders as he addresses us. “What is this information you deem so important?”
“I need something from you first, sir. I need to know that you represent the people we are trying to find,” Garlind says boldly. I have to give it to him, none of his fear makes his voice waver. And I’m sure he has to be worried under the man’s gaze.
He stares at Garlind for so long that I wonder if he’s turned to stone. His expression betrays nothing of what he’s thinking. Surely, he’s had to work to be so impassive.
I wait for someone to say something.
Garlind seals his mouth closed, not apologizing for his question. Good, I’m glad someone can think straight right now.
The man takes a breath as he comes to a decision. “I am Senator John Delroy and I am authorized to speak on behalf of the US Army.”
My body sags with relief while my heart soars with elation. We’ve made it here. We’re speaking with the right person. We are so close to achieving our goal that it’s almost in reach.
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