by Jeff Olah
He smiled as this story was relayed to him numerous times and with many different variations, none of which held the complete truth. Nodding his head, Rath said, “That’s about as close as anyone has ever gotten to the story that wasn’t trying to kill me.”
“Well my friend, we have nothing but time. I don’t mind missing a few winks to get the details straight from the horse’s mouth.”
He barely knew this man and although he’d saved his life, Rath had only ever given the exact details to two other people, one of which he desperately needed to still find. The chances of him making it another three miles into the mountains with the little girl asleep next to him on the floor weren’t in his favor. If this were the last night of his life, he had no problem clearing his conscience one last time.
“Symon, how much do you know about the man who created The Patch… Emerson Boothe?”
“Never spoke with him, only ever saw him on the video feeds we were sent.”
“My father worked directly for him,” Rath said. “I witnessed the monster that he was becoming every day for the ten years that my father and I were stuck in that hole.”
“Your mother?”
“She was caught in the initial wave that first day. She never made it out of the city.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Long story short, Boothe continued to grow more and more leery of his own people. My father was tasked with building these ridiculous layers of security between him and the people he was supposed to be protecting. The last six months, he slipped into another realm altogether. He wanted to lock the residents up like prisoners.”
“What did your father do?”
“He came up with the plan to start building communities out in the safe zone that could be monitored. He came up with the plan for the Districts; he even scouted all eight locations and gave the project a green light.”
Scratching his head, Symon said, “I had never heard of your father before today, it sounds like Boothe liked the idea?”
“Yes, although he still wanted to begin removing liberties from those inside his own walls. He let my father finish the plans for The Districts while others worked on militarizing The Patch.”
He hated the way those words felt leaving his mouth. The day that Rath walked into the mountainous cavern known as The Patch, he was only eight years old and still grieving the loss of his mother. At the time, he wasn’t overly impressed that a majority of its construction was the handy work of his own father; to him it was merely a place to hide from the cold.
At nine-hundred thousand square feet, The Patch was a work of art. Trenched out of the east facing mountain nearest the town labeled Extinction, Emerson Boothe built the behemoth to survive any known scenario from the rouge planet that was to sweep through our solar system, no matter how unlikely. Astrophysicists detailed just how our planet could be affected once the unknown planet finished its pass. The worst of which described a scenario in which it would alter the Earth's orbit, sending it into more of an elliptical path.
Forecasters told of weather patterns that would destroy anything that still breathed air and that the only place to survive the apocalypse would be underground. And while most of humanity, including every government from around the world, called it media sensationalism and completely ignored the advanced notice, billionaire Emerson Boothe opened his wallet and created his own sanctuary. He invited twenty-five hundred souls to join him and then locked the rest of humanity out.
“Militarizing?” Symon said. “I agree that Boothe was a bit eccentric; although I’m not sure he had any plans to have his people do anything they were unwilling to do. The man saved a few thousand people and never harmed anyone.”
Sitting forward, Rath again checked on Chloe before continuing. “He had my father murdered. Murdered because he didn’t agree that the people living inside the Mountain had any rights. My father was designing the Districts as a way to give people their freedom back and get them away from Boothe. That animal waited for my father to finish the plans and had one of his henchmen take my father out to the site of District Two and kill him.”
“How did you find out about your father’s death?”
“I saw it happen. I followed them out there just like I did every other day and watched Boothe order that man to kill my father.”
“So… Boothe had you thrown out in the cold because you were a witness?”
“Not exactly, I made it back before they found out I was gone. I waited for Boothe to come and deliver the news. He never did. He waited for me to come ask about my father. He said he hadn’t heard back from him that afternoon and that I should go back to my room and not worry about it.”
“What did you do?”
“I waited until sundown and went after Boothe. He was on lockdown and with no way to get to him, I started back to my room. The man who killed my father found me outside Boothe’s suite and told me he needed to speak to me. I knew what was coming and I followed him outside.”
“He was the one who made you leave?”
“No… I killed him.”
4
Six weeks from his eighteenth birthday, Rath took the man’s life who’d ended his father’s. He detailed to Symon how he slipped back into his room, gathered his father’s plans and left the Mountain, intending to never again return. No idea where he would go and with the new winter rapidly approaching, he hid in the outer reaches of Extinction until the first round of heavy snow had passed. Although he retained his natural survival instinct, without his father, living meant nothing.
“I moved on from here just as the town was overrun by the early Andros and just kept going east as the Districts were being formed. Boothe personally made sure I never showed my face and sent scouts looking for me until District Eight was finished. I guess at that point he gave up.”
Symon’s head was spinning. Even though their stories were contrasting one another, this one made perfect sense. Emerson Boothe had become increasingly paranoid and although he still didn’t completely trust Rath, he believed him. “Where have you lived all these years, the wastelands?”
“District Nine.”
“Whadda ya mean, they only built eight?”
“About a month after leaving the Mountain, I met a man who was friends with my father. His name was Jacob Thomas. He and his family were told to leave the Mountain after asking the wrong questions about my father and his whereabouts. I traveled with his family into the flatlands beyond District Eight and helped built our own community, modeling it after the others. We called it District Nine, as a big middle finger to Boothe.”
Symon grinned. “He never found out what you did?”
“Not until a few months after we’d finished. He sent one of his scout drones out and they located us. We waited, but he never came, so we just decided to live our lives. A few times per year, we’d check the outer reaches of the wastelands looking for others in need of help and bring them home. Before the drones came back last week, our population had grown to eighty-six.”
“How many did they take?”
Rath sighed. “I’m not sure, they came in the middle of the night and my wife and I made it to the border before we looked back.”
“You think Boothe did this as some sort of retaliation?”
“No… I believe something else happened and he’s getting desperate. The man never had it in him to think things through or ask others for their opinion. I’m thinking that something went wrong in that mountain fortress of his, maybe he’s finally lost his mind and decided to put an end to anything outside his walls.”
“Then why take prisoners?”
“I’m still working on that. It doesn’t make sense, although nothing that man has ever done has followed any kind of reason—” Rath paused for a moment as his curiosity took over. “Symon, you were from District One. The destruction was pretty rampant, how did you and your family escape without any bumps or bruises?”
“It’s all a blur,” Symon said as he wiped the swea
t beginning to form on his brow. “My wife woke me in the middle of the night, just as one of those drones came into our area. We left through the front gate just before they landed.”
“How’d you know they were there to do you harm, instead of simply just a routine drop off?”
“Just a hunch… and I guess I was right. They killed almost everyone.”
Rath knew Symon was lying; now he just needed to find out why and whether he Chloe needed to fear this run-of-the-mill family of three. Pointing to the suitcases lining the rear wall, Rath continued. “Good thing you already had your bags packed. Were you getting ready to take a trip?”
“Uh… we were getting ready to—”
“Symon, I’m just toying with you, my wife and I were under the same pressure to leave our home and although we didn’t take as many things, I understand.”
“Oh, OK… alright. I just thought—”
“Don’t worry about it… hey how long did you and your family live in District One?”
“My father petitioned for residency within the first month that it was opened. When I was about twelve years old, my family moved out of the Mountain and into the third home ever built inside District One. I’ve lived there ever since. My wife is another story, she’s always hated living in the District and wanted to go back to The Patch since she lost her parents three years ago.”
“Why?”
“She felt like there wasn’t enough protection from the Andros. We were attacked almost once a year for the last ten years. Help from the Mountain had almost completely stopped. She was jealous of the security offered by Emerson Boothe, even though she never trusted him.”
“Sounds like a smart woman.”
“She really is, although it looks like I should have listened to her earlier.”
“Were you headed back to the Mountain before Chloe and I showed up?”
“We didn’t really have a plan just yet. This place was a nice find and I was thinking we’d ride it out here until we figured out what was going on.”
Passing through the boarded front window, a sliver of light reflected off the stun baton and caught Rath’s eye. He noticed a hint of apprehension, but only a split second of hesitation before Symon lunged for the weapon. Rath moved away from Chloe as both men stood and turned their attention toward the entrance.
As the fluorescent overhead lights blinked out, Symon took a step back and gripped the baton, waiting for Rath to make a move. Five sets of footfalls could be heard at the end of the hall leading to the lobby. “I’m sorry my friend, nothing personal, but these guys have been tracking you since day one. They’ve guaranteed my family a pass back into the Mountain. They won’t hurt you or the girl. They just need you to go quietly.”
Their eyes slowly adjusting to the obscurity of the room, the men were now little more than faceless silhouettes to one another. Rath cocked back, slammed his meaty fist into Symon’s left ear and caught him as he fell. Not wanting any additional attention drawn to their location, he gently guided Symon to the cold tile below and pulled the weapon from his hand.
The left side of Symon’s head throbbed uncontrollably and as he massaged his ear, a pool of blood began to stain his shirt and the ground below. “Rath you need to listen to me, these men aren’t who you think they are.”
Retrieving both weapons, his pack and finally scooping Chloe into his arms, Rath started for the rear exit. “I’m not concerned with who these men are, only who you are not. I hope you and your family are right. Either way, you’re about to find out. Good luck, Symon.”
5
She wasn’t sure how long it’d been since she last saw his face and had no idea even the time of day. She estimated that it had been more than twenty-four hours since she’d been delivered food and having only been given two meals since arriving, she began to fear the intentions of the men dressed in black. Were they trying to break her, or was there something more to the shameful treatment she been shown. Sarah almost didn’t care.
In the deep reaches of her belly, the hunger pangs fought for dominance over the sickening feeling that she may never see her husband again. He was out there somewhere searching for her, although something inside her shouted that there was absolutely no chance he’d ever find her. How could he, she was away locked in this God-forsaken hell hole dug into the hillside far from anything remotely familiar.
The thought of giving up and just dying held no appeal before this moment. She wondered how long she could simply refuse to eat and how long it would take her to starve to death. How long before she would slip from consciousness? Would it be painful, would she suffer? Although he’d want her to keep fighting until her very last breath, Rath would understand.
Returning to her cot, Sarah laid back, closed her eyes and thought only of her husband and the life they’d shared. The day they met and how he’d saved her life was a story she’d often used when falling asleep in his arms at night. It helped her to remember that there was still good in the world. Today, she just wanted to fall asleep to something beautiful.
Her mother and father had told her and her brother that leaving the safety of their home in the middle of the afternoon was their best option for survival. Going it alone on the outskirts of the wastelands would sooner or later catch up to them. With no help from The Patch and without the association that came from living in one of The Districts, most individuals perished their first year. Although her family had managed to survive for three years, they were the most excruciating of her life.
They petitioned all eight Districts and came up short eight times. Her family’s last option was to head out in search of the only place they’d heard would take them, the often talked about District Nine. Sarah’s father had never spoken to anyone from the unsanctioned District and had doubts in the back of his mind that it even existed.
They set off on a Tuesday and within hours were being tracked by a small horde of Andros. Her father knew the general direction of their destination, although no one knew exactly how long the trip would take. Secretly he prayed that this place was actually there and that they’d be allowed in. His family wouldn’t survive another month on their own. His job as a husband and father was about to be put to the test.
By nightfall her brother, six years her junior had been complaining about how sore his legs were for over an hour. “We can’t stop,” her father would say. “No matter how tired we think we are.”
The complaining continued through the night and as they made their way from one vastly inadequate hiding place to next, the entire family began staring into the eastern horizon, willing the sun to show itself. If her father had timed it right, they’d have at least three hours of uninterrupted sunlight before the satellite winds pushed in the heavy cloud cover of early afternoon. They appeared to be on schedule and not taking advantage of this could prove their undoing.
By the time the emotionless terrain felt the radiance of day’s first light, Sarah had been running for just shy of forty minutes. Her pack dug deep into her shoulder blades and although she readjusted the straps every few minutes, the pain was just short of apocalyptic. The group of Andros were closer than she cared to acknowledge and without stopping to get a feel for how close they were, she couldn’t gauge how much time they had.
As the walls of what they’d assumed to be District Nine came into view, the Andros were within fifty yards. The barren landscape had long ago offered its last bit of shelter and now out in the open, this was a foot race, one that they were rapidly losing. The family of four was about to be savagely beaten, then dragged back to the wastelands to be devoured by the animals now at their heels. Sarah prayed that they’d kill her quickly.
Her brother was the first to go down, less than thirty seconds from the walls; he tripped over his own weight and skidded to a stop in the soft dirt. His father pulled him up by the straps and simply yelled, “Keep running.” They did and within twenty yards of the entrance the massive security gate began to crank open. Eleven men emerged with the mo
st treacherous looking hand weapons she’d ever seen. Salvation in flesh and bone, they’d made it. The men smiled and ushered them in through the entrance, but continued to move at a rapid click into the wild.
Her mother screamed as she turned to see that her husband had forsaken himself to let his family live another day. Almost fifty yards back, six Andros had descended on their prey and were so blinded by the intoxication of the hunt, they’d failed to address the eleven men now within striking distance.
The Andros, four large males and two good sized females, were easily dispatched by the eleven well-trained men. Sarah’s father was no worse for wear and would be back on his feet in a matter of days.