Super Pulse (Book 4): Defect

by Conifer, Dave

  “That’s crazy,” Rollie said indignantly. “We’ve got all the water we need right here, all around us!”

  “Sure, you’ve got water, but it’s undrinkable,” Matt said. “That’s what we’ve been talking about here. It’ll take huge amounts of effort and equipment to change that. That’s not what I do where I come from.” He wanted to add “You should have known that before you kidnapped me and my family,” but didn’t. This was already going over badly enough as it was.

  “How are we supposed to do all that?” Rollie asked. “What would we need? Vehicles with big tanks? How would we even know where to look for water, anyway?”

  Matt put his hands up. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger here,” he said. “It wasn’t my idea to settle in a place that had no water. But how hard could it be to find a lake or a stream? Levan’s from the mainland. I’m sure he could find some.”

  Neither man spoke for nearly a minute. Matt wondered if he’d gone too far by condemning the choice of Atlantic City as a place to settle. But he couldn’t un-say it now, so he put it out of his mind.

  “So what exactly are you saying we should do?” asked Rollie. “None of this pie-in-the-sky talk. What should we do right now? Bottom line.”

  “Find some maps, first of all,” Matt said. “Figure out where there’s fresh water. The closest source. And set up a system to bring it here. You can truck it right in to the Water Factory you already use. That’s what you need to do. You’re here, you’re kind of settled in, and it’s too late to do anything about that. You just have to make it work.”

  ~~~

  A few days later Chappy pulled up at The Wonder Bar to pick up Levan on his way to the mainland. The Atlantic City leadership had agreed with Matt’s idea to look for a convenient source of fresh water. Apparently, from what Rollie told Matt, most were initially unconvinced that the salt couldn’t be removed from the water they already had. Despite his own apparent skepticism, Rollie had been persuaded by Matt that this was too difficult, and he, in turn had talked his bosses into following up on Matt’s idea.

  The only condition was that Matt himself wouldn’t be allowed to go on the mission to look for water. Nobody wanted to take a chance on losing the man who could fix it, even though they held his wife and kids as an insurance policy. Instead, Levan was provided with the best maps they could find, given some time to study them, and then supplied with a driver.

  Matt was watching from a distance when the van, a white Chevy from the early seventies, arrived on Albany Avenue where Levan was waiting at the curb. The vehicle looked familiar to Matt. Very familiar. Was that how he’d been transported there? Or his family? He already knew they were kidnappers, and they apparently had found a way to slip into Tabernacle long enough to grab them. There was no reason to think the van hadn’t been stolen from Carly’s fleet while they were there. Now he had even more to worry about, besides himself and his family. Was Tabernacle in danger? Had they been raided or attacked? While Levan was gone, he’d try to learn from Rollie what had happened and where that van had come from.

  ~~~

  After the van pulled away, Matt decided to go for a walk. It would have been nice to go straight back to his family and enjoy the rest of the afternoon with them. Ellie would like it; being locked up in the tower with the boys for hours on end unnerved her. But there was somebody he wanted to see, and now was one of the few times he was out without any supervision.

  Rollie had accompanied Matt to the Water Factory, but had rushed over for some final words to Chappy and Levan before they left. That gave Matt a chance to steal away and head off on his own. He felt a sense of purpose as he made his way back to the Boardwalk, which according to Rollie himself was the safest place in the city. He had a specific destination in mind, and he thought if he found who he was looking for, it would be to the benefit of his family.

  The wind was stronger on the Boardwalk, and he was walking right into it. He pulled his threadbare jacket closed across his chest, wishing the zipper still worked. Even under the circumstances, the surroundings were gloomier than usual. The gray sky looked ready to unleash a cold rain, which would feel worse than snow. Maybe that’s why there was nobody around. Even so, he resisted the urge to put his head down to shield his face from the wind. Wandering around that town was dangerous. If there was trouble, he wanted to make sure he saw it coming.

  Like every place else, all the storefronts and restaurants had been looted a long time ago. That probably wasn’t unique to Atlantic City, he reminded himself as he sidestepped a plastic shopping bag coming his way at head height. Except for Tabernacle, just about every manmade structure he’d seen since the power went out had been in the same condition. That’s just the way it was, and probably would be for quite some time.

  As he approached the Tropicana he decided on the spur of the moment to detour onto the beach. Besides being his current home, that casino was a hub of activity, and it was likely that somebody would spot him. Somebody who didn’t want him out on his own. Instead, he walked in the sand with the angry winter surf to his right, dampening his clothes with a salty mist whenever the wind kicked up. It was only after he’d passed under the pier in front of Caesar’s expansive casino that he veered back to the Boardwalk, where the air was drier and the walking was easier.

  He passed several people, all hunched over in the same pose he walked in, as he made his way north. None recognized him. In fact, few even dared to look at him. It was becoming more apparent by the day that this was a place where most people lived in fear. All the more reason to do whatever it took to get back home to Tabernacle. Again, he was aware that somehow the visit he was on his way to pay would further that cause.

  The pain in his hip from his fall that first day when he visited the Water Factory was easing up, but now, after so many steps without a break, it was back. He touched the scabs on his face. It had been quite a spill on the sidewalk that day. In his old life he’d have fussed about his injuries, but nowadays it wasn’t something he gave a second thought to. It could have been worse, he told himself. At least he woke up after passing out. Not everybody got up off the sidewalk that day.

  Remembering Levan’s words, he left the Boardwalk at South Carolina Avenue. Almost immediately he passed an abandoned strip club. Now he saw more people, all walking with their heads down and hands in their pockets. Like they were obviously doing, he did his best to avoid any interactions. Several trash-strewn blocks later he looked up to see the multi-story black glass cube that Levan had described. He was almost there. A minute later, when he saw a bearded yet somehow dapper man in a suit topped with a blood-red bow tie, he knew he’d found who he’d come looking for.

  “I’m Matt Shardlake,” he said as he extended his hand to the man who had risen from the wooden bench long before Matt reached him from across the concrete courtyard. “Are you the Mayor?”

  A broad smile rippled through the beard. “Yes, I am!” he answered crisply as he enthusiastically pumped Matt’s hand. “Don Sargent at your service. Most people still call me ‘Mayor.’”

  Matt waved at the building. “I heard you live here,” he said. “And that it’s not by choice.”

  “It’s by choice,” Mayor answered. “Where else am I going to go?”

  Matt told Mayor his story, ending with Levan at his Water Factory over on Albany Avenue. “He told me that when all this started, you took charge. And he said things were better then. What happened?”

  “Very simple,” Mayor said. “We were overrun by outsiders. Barbarians. And they’re running the city now. Everything your friend told you is true.”

  “Levan said you never leave City Hall,” Matt said. “Is that by choice, or do they force you to stay here?”

  “It’s not true,” Mayor answered. “I walk around sometimes. They couldn’t care less what I do. This just happens to be where I live. I still have to go get food just like everybody else.”

  “What exactly happened?” Matt asked. “Did they all just show up o
ne day?”

  “More like they trickled in, one group at a time,” Mayor said. “They never came here, to City Hall. They always went to the casinos.”

  “But you were still running things?”

  “Trying to,” Mayor said. “As best I could. We tried to keep everybody safe, and we handed out food when we had it. It got messy. Hungry people do bad things. But it wasn’t as violent as it is now.”

  “How long after the EMP did they take over?” Matt asked.

  “EMP? Is that what they call it?” Mayor asked.

  Matt took a few minutes to explain what he knew about it, most of which he’d learned from Dewey. “We moved out of Cherry Hill after about five months.”

  “That sounds like about how long I ran the city,” Mayor said. “People got antsy when winter came and everybody got cold.” He shrugged. “Maybe they thought somebody else could keep the heat on. But it didn’t work out that way. They’re more miserable now than they ever were when I was in charge.”

  “Is that why you’re still here?” Matt asked. “Maybe you can still help?”

  “Where would I go?” Mayor replied. “I have no illusions about getting my power back. They have too many guns. And goons. Ha, guns and goons, how do you like that?” A stern, serious expression returned his face just as quickly. “I’d do anything to get my city back on its feet, though. I love this city. So yeah, maybe that is why I’m still here. Maybe I’m just waiting for my chance.”

  Twenty

  “So where are we going, Water Man?” Chappy asked Levan. They’d just crossed the drawbridge next to The Wonder Bar, one of three guarded bridges that provided direct access to the settlement. Although they’d still be within the city limits of Atlantic City for another minute or so, depending on how clear the road was of debris, they were now outside of their safe zone. It was an exhilarating feeling for Levan, despite being saddled with an escort he despised. It wouldn’t be long before they‘d be in his hometown of Egg Harbor Township. He knew there was very little chance that any friends and family were still there gone, but he tingled with excitement about where they were headed just the same.

  “Two places,” Levan grunted. “Nature Reserve has a lake. Right across the road from that is English Creek. Just stay on this road until I tell you to turn.”

  “How far?” Chappy demanded.

  His tone told Levan that he wasn’t happy being told what to do, especially by the lowly water guy. Levan didn’t care. They’d just killed his brother. He wasn’t in the mood to be nice. “Far enough,” he answered simply. “Just turn when I tell you. It’ll be a few miles.”

  This time Chappy appeared to get the message, and took Levan’s curtness in stride. He busied himself steering through the abandoned wrecks and accumulations of trash that littered Albany Avenue, now far enough from the city to be known by multiple names, including the “Black Horse Pike,” and “Route Forty.” After passing through the cluttered intersection at Route Nine, where Levan had often waited in the past for the traffic light to cycle through several times before he made it past, Chappy surprised Levan by giving him a pistol. “Keep a watch out while I’m driving, will ya?” he asked. “And if you see trouble, don’t be shy. We don’t know what to expect out here. I don’t know about you, but I’m kinda’ nervous right now.”

  “I never fired a shot in my life,” Levan told him. “Just so you know.”

  “You serious?” Chappy asked. “I woulda’ thought—"

  “Yeah,” Levan interrupted. “I’ll be okay, though.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” Chappy told him. “You won’t need to hit anything. Just pull the trigger and anybody out here’ll scatter.”

  They drove along the Black Horse Pike for a few minutes. Levan never saw anybody ahead of the van as he rode silently, the window wide open and his elbow hanging out into the breeze. But several times something caught his eye in the mirror on the side of the door. Each time he looked closer he saw human forms scurrying out from abandoned shops and buildings along the once-busy highway. They must have seen us, he told himself, and came to check it out. “Lots of folks watchin’ us from behind,” he told Chappy.

  “Is that right?” Chappy asked. “I haven’t seen ‘em.”

  Well, they’re there,” Levan said. “Maybe we should take a different route home when we’re done. I don’t even know why we’re out here in the first place.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” asked Chappy. “We’re lookin’ for water!”

  “Yeah, sure,” Levan answered. “And we’ll find it, too. I know where to look. But there ain’t no way we’re gonna’ be able to load it up in trucks and bring enough back to AC to matter. What trucks?”

  “That’s not our problem,” Chappy said. “Our job is to find it. Somebody else’s job is to move it. But I heard we just got some new trucks, even though I haven’t seen them.”

  “Turn here,” Levan said. Chappy didn’t bother to guide the van into the left turn lane, which was clogged with the carcass of an abandoned vehicle. Instead he took the turn wide. “It’s about a mile ahead.”

  A few minutes later came another instruction, as Levan directed Chappy onto a narrow asphalt road that led into a stand of woods. After a few curves, they’d found the pristine lake that Levan had known was there without bothering to check the maps. “Ain’t no salt in that water,” he said. “I know from fishin’ it.”

  “Looks good,” Chappy agreed. “I bet it’s clean enough to drink right now.”

  “There’s a creek across the road that feeds this lake,” Levan said. “I thought it would be easier to take it from the lake. Course, there’s no way we’re getting it back to where we need it,” Levan said. “That’s the trouble with all this.”

  “Not our problem, remember?” Chappy reminded him. “All we gotta’ do is drive back and tell ‘em we found the water they’re looking for. Somebody else can do the rest.”

  ~~~

  When they reached the Black Horse Pike Levan repeated his suggestion that they find a different route back to Atlantic City. “Go left. I’m tellin’ you, they’re gonna’ be waitin’ for us to come back the same way,” he insisted about the watchers who’d appeared in the road behind them a few minutes earlier.

  “They’ll be people whatever way we go,” Chappy argued.

  “But they won’t be watchin’ for us,” Levan countered.

  Chappy spread his arms in a gesture of surrender when he saw the look on Levan’s face. “Okay. Whatever,” he conceded. “So long as you know the way, ‘cause I don’t have a clue where I am right now.”

  “Let’s switch, then,” Levan suggested. “I’ll drive.”

  “All right with me,” Chappy said. “You drive, and I’ll shoot. How about that?”

  Not long after they’d switched roles and Levan pulled onto the pike heading north instead of south, a man holding a rifle came into view ahead. When he saw Levan and Chappy approaching in the van he ran toward it, the rifle clamped tightly in one of his hands.

  “I was right!” yelled Chappy as he leaned out and pointed his weapon at the charging attacker, who was yelling something as he advanced. Chappy fired twice, causing the man to drop to the ground and crawl on his belly into a clump of shrubbery that had once served as landscaping for a strip mall.

  “Did you hit him?” Levan asked anxiously.

  “I don’t think so,” Chappy answered. He was about to fire again when Levan put a hand on his forearm. “You sure we should waste the bullets?” he asked.

  “Did you see what that guy was carrying?” Chappy said back. “It was a shotgun. He means business. We better take cover before he starts shooting. We’re a big target in this van.”

  “Unless you already got him,” Levan answered, his voice taut. But his panicked partner was already out of the van, running through the unkempt strip of vegetation between the lanes of the highway to find his own hiding place as Levan watched through the windshield. He’d decided to follow, and his fingers had
just closed around the handle of the door to open it when, to his horror, Chappy burst into flames from head to toe, his form disappearing into a shroud of fire that had materialized out of nowhere. As Levan gaped, something hard struck the side of the van, and it too was suddenly engulfed in a curtain of flames.

  Levan pushed the door open and tumbled out, instinctively keeping low once he was on the ground. He hadn’t seen the assailant’s weapon and had no idea what could have done that to Chappy, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Instead of exposing himself by running away from the van, where there was no cover, he flattened himself and crawled behind a nearby sedan that had inexplicably been rolled onto its side, probably a long time ago. He was too scared and confused even to peek around the overturned vehicle until he’d taken a moment to catch his breath and gather his wits. Maybe the man with the flamethrower wouldn’t come after him.

  By the time Levan got another look, Chappy was down in the dirt in the same place where he’d been hit. Writhing in agony as oily smoke rose from his roasting body, his screams filled Levan’s ears. Now, as Levan watched helplessly, three men emerged from nowhere. Two swept the area with their eyes for danger, while a third ran to Chappy. The flames were already dying down, and Chappy, now badly charred and blackened, wasn’t moving as violently. The screams had been replaced by a low moan.

  When the attacker reached Chappy he tore off his own coat and smothered what was left of the fire, an action Levan couldn’t make sense of. Then, after bending down for a closer inspection, he put a gun to Chappy’s head and pulled the trigger. Now Levan knew he was completely on his own, and unarmed on top of that. He turned away and sat back against the exposed chassis of the car he’d been hiding behind to await his fate.