by Nick Thacker
It made all of this feel even more surreal.
Adam was about to climb into the Humvee when Anna stepped forward. She had a rifle slung over her shoulder, and she held out a pistol. Adam was vaguely familiar with guns—he’d done some target shooting with friends over the years, and his grandfather had taken him hunting when he was a kid. To him the pistol looked like a .45. He took it.
“Know how to use it?” Anna asked.
Adam tapped the barrel with an index finger. “This end points at the other guy,” he said, then tapped the trigger. “This end makes it make noise.”
“Very cute,” Anna said.
Adam almost smiled. For an instant he had forgotten the weirdness of all of this, and the pain of losing his family. It was still there, though. A dull toothache in his soul. But it was good to smile, even just a little.
He pulled the slide on the .45 and checked the chamber. One round loaded. He pushed the release on the side and checked the magazine. It was full. Maybe eight rounds. He slid that back in, thumbed the safety off and then on again, and looked at Anna for approval.
“Good,” she said. “Combat training?”
“Only if ‘Call of Duty’ counts as combat training,” he said.
She smiled then, and laughed lightly. “It’ll have to, I guess.” She motioned to a group of people gathered around a second Humvee. Four people total—two men and two women. “They’re going with you. They’re good. Ex military. And Carl is a vet, too.”
Adam looked at Carl, who nodded. “What about you?” Adam asked.
“I’ve had training. Not military, but I was a deputy before I got this job.”
“Running a refugee camp for Lucid?” Adam asked.
“Yeah,” Anna said.
“Are you going with us?” Adam asked.
She shook her head. “Too much to do here. We get new people in every day. And it won’t be long before someone notices. Have to keep this place fortified.”
Adam nodded. This place was a refuge, and even though he wasn’t sure how much he actually trusted Anna, he was glad to seem someone doing what she was doing.
He wished he could have gotten Kate and the kids here. He wished he could have kept them safe. He wished …
He wished he hadn’t failed them.
But he wouldn’t fail everyone else.
That was his consolation. That was the new drive within him. He might not have been good enough or strong enough or smart enough to stop his family from dying, but as he looked around at the faces of everyone in this camp, and saw the men and women who were struggling to survive here, he accepted a silent mission. He would protect the Lucid. And he would find a way to end all of this.
They all climbed into the Humvees now, each armed and each carrying satchels with food, bits of clothing, and other useful items.
“There are radios in each Humvee,” Anna said, leaning in through a window. “Shortwave. We’ve put repeaters on the highest peaks around here, so you should be able to reach us.”
Adam nodded. “I’ll let you know what we find.”
“Not just that,” she said. “Keep listening. Find others. Tell them where we are, and tell us they’re on the way.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Adam asked. “Shouldn’t you try to lay low? Avoid strangers?”
“The Lucid are all that’s left,” she said. “We have to take our chances, when it comes to strangers. None of us can afford to be strangers now.”
Adam nodded.
As if that was the cue, the Humvee started and Carl drove them away, with the second Humvee close behind.
Adam turned to see Anna and the others, and wondered about all of this. She was right, he realized. Right now, the only chance any of them had was for the Lucid to come together, to work together. There were bound to be conflicts, down the line. But at the moment they were all pitted against the same enemy. Not just the Suppressed, or the heavy metal poisoning, but against David Priseman and the organization backing him.
They crested a small hill, and were making their way down through a path lined with huge boulders and craggy hills. Adam was staring straight ahead now, from the passenger seat of the Humvee. He was thinking. Daydreaming a bit. He was trying to think of anything but his family, and the wall of grief that came with those thoughts.
It took a few moments to realize that the drone of the Humvee’s engines weren’t the only noise he was hearing.
There was a persistent thump-thump-thump noise bleeding in through the open passenger window.
“Oh shit!” Carl shouted, pointing.
Adam leaned forward …
Three black helicopters buzzed past them overhead, whizzing by like three angry hornets, chopping the air with their blades and issuing a sound that echoed from the stone walls surrounding them.
Adam felt his heart pounding in rhythm with the sound.
Carl slammed the brakes, and the three of them got out. The second Humvee had stopped as well, and the four ex-millitary climbed out with rifles raised, tracking the helicopters across the sky.
“UVFs,” Carl said. “Automated.”
“They’re heading for the camp!” one of the female soldiers shouted. “We have to go back!”
“We have to stay on mission!” Carl shouted. “Anna’s got plenty of weapons and people who know how to use them! We have to get to Denver!”
With that he climbed back in, and then spewed a string of curses at Adam and Jocelyn, demanding they get in the Humvee.
They did, and in seconds the Humvee lurched forward, speeding even faster through the canyon, out onto the main raid.
Adam couldn’t hear the sound of gunfire from here, but he did hear three dense-sounding explosions, from the distance. It would have been hard to determine where those came from, on any other day. The canyons and boulders here would refract and reflect sound all over the place, making it impossible to pinpoint direction. But on this day, Adam knew exactly where they were. He knew that the camp was under attack.
He picked up the shortwave radio, but before he could transmit Carl put a hand on his. “Don’t,” he said.
“They could need help!” Adam replied, the memory of his mental promise—the responsibility he’d only just assumed—felt heavy in his gut.
“There’s nothing we can do for them now,” Carl said. “We just have to complete the mission. That’s what matters.”
Adam hesitated, but he knew Carl was right. He put the radio back, and then leaned against the door of the Humvee, staring out of the window at the terrain as it blurred by.
Chapter Seven
Normally the drive from Garden of the Gods to Denver would take a little over an hour. But this drive was anything but normal.
They managed to get to 25 North, racing along at the Humvee’s top speed. But they were exposed here. The grid of cameras and sensors that made it possible for the UVFs to patrol was pinging them all along the highway, and it wouldn’t be long before an army of UVFs started to close in on them.
They left the main highway just outside of Black Forest, then wound their way through back roads, occasionally hopping onto 83 and then 86.
It was slow going. And they often stopped so that someone could scout ahead to make sure the way was clear. Sometimes they encountered obstacles in the road—fallout from the rise of the Suppressed. Cars had been wrecked and abandoned. Trees had been felled from accidents. At one point an RV with the word ‘Chrysalis’ on its side was blocking part of the roadway, but pulled away as the Humvees approached, disappearing into the backroads.
After nearly four hours they finally saw the ‘Welcome to Denver’ sign.
They navigated through the Denver streets, and came to Larimer Street after several minutes of dodging UVFs and negotiating obstacles.
Adam was surprised by how inept the Unmanned Vehicle Force actually was. The AI that ran all of the automated systems had always been efficient. It knew how to run a grid, to keep tabs on anyone violating traffic laws. It had been
very useful as a deterrent to high speed chases, and was a general watchdog for signs of criminal activity. But without its human counterpart, it was proving to be more of a nuisance than an actual deterrent. Without someone watching—looking for alerts from the system and calling to engage actual lucid, human officers—all of these eyes and ears were worthless.
It took some time to find the Division of Infectious Diseases. In the end they had to pull over and raid a small security booth, breaking the glass to get inside and picking up a stack of maps printed on glossy paper. They found the building they were looking for, and threaded their way to it, pulling into a lot marked “Breckinridge Lot, Parking by permit only.”
This lot connected to the two research facilities, and according to Jocelyn those would be the most likely places to find Milton’s lab. Whether they’d actually find Milton was questionable at this point—and highly unlikely. The man had to have moved on by now in one way or another. But it was his lab they needed most at the moment.
Carl drove the Humvee straight through the wooden drop gate for the parking lot, and everyone exited once the two Humvees parked on the sidewalk in front of a building marked “Research 2.”
The ex-military among them fanned out with weapons ready. Adam once again clicked the safety from his .45, and was surprised to see Jocelyn do the same. He hadn’t realized she was armed.
She looked uncomfortable with the weapon, holding it as if it might go off just from touching it wrong. “You ok with that?” he asked.
“I had to receive weapons training when I worked for the WHO. Some areas are dangerous, especially for women, and the UN mandated that we should all be familiar with weapons. I had hoped to never use one.”
“You might not have to,” Adam said. “Just stick close.”
As a unit, they made their way to the front entrance of Research 2. Carl was first to arrive, and without hesitation he smashed the glass of the front door and motioned one of the other armed men to lead in. They all filed through, one after another, with Adam and Jocelyn in the middle.
“Do we have any idea where this lab is?” Carl asked.
“Not a clue,” Adam said. He looked to Jocelyn. “You’re probably the one most familiar with this type of facility.”
“I’ve never been here,” Jocelyn said. “But there’s probably a directory we can check.”
They made their way to a large desk that had once served as a receptionist area, and they rifled through papers and pamphlets until one of their escorts found a directory. Professor Milton’s name was next to an office number, but there was a square marked “Phlebotomy Lab” nearby.
As they negotiated the hallways, they moved slowly. Every doorway was checked and cleared before they moved on. This made the pace slow and grueling, but it provided the comfort of knowing that no one could sneak up behind them.
The Phlebotomy Lab was clearly marked, and after it was cleared Adam, Jocelyn, and Carl entered. The escorts stayed outside, with a guard posted on the door and the other three moving and monitoring the corridors.
“Ok,” Carl said, looking around the lab with distaste. “Now what?”
Jocelyn took out a small insulated bag that contained Sara’s blood sample. She looked around the lab and spotted the equipment she was after. “It’s a good thing this place has its own generator,” she said. “We’ll need power to run these tests.”
“Someone should check that,” Carl said. “You two do your thing. I’ll go find the generator and make sure it’s not about to run dry.”
He left Jocelyn and Adam alone.
“What do you need? And how can I help?”
Jocelyn had opened the vial of blood and used a pipet to draw a small sample. She placed this on a slide, which was then placed into a machine Adam didn’t recognize. “We can run numerous tests at once, with this equipment. I’ll start rounds for Sara’s blood, but I’d like to draw some of your blood as well.”
Adam nodded, then followed Jocelyn to a chair where he was directed to roll up his sleeve. She wrapped a band around his bicep, and prepared a needle.
Adam hated shots. He hated needles. He had avoided this kind of thing as much as possible in his life. But at the moment, he was almost eager for Jocelyn to draw his blood. If this led to answers, if it led to maybe a cure, then he wanted it.
It was a way to honor Sara and his family.
Once his blood was drawn, Jocelyn started another series of tests. Soon a great deal of the equipment in the room was humming and scanning.
“Now we wait,” Jocelyn said, pulling off a pair of rubber gloves.
“How long?” Adam asked.
“Most of these tests will take about an hour. One or two may take a day to run. The DNA sequencing has been refined to just a few hours.”
Adam shook his head. “That’s a long time to be hole up here. We’ll have to get some provisions, and that means some of us moving out of the facility for a time. That makes us vulnerable. Is there any way to speed it up?”
“No, I’m afraid not,” Jocelyn said. “These sequences take as long as they take.”
Adam stood then, and moved toward the door. “Ok,” he said. “Maybe there’s a cafeteria or a break room in this building. I’ll let Carl know that this is home for the next day or two.”
He left the lab, nodded to the woman guarding the door, and asked her, “Which way did Carl go?”
She pointed. “He said he’s looking for the generator. That way leads out back.”
Adam nodded and thanked her. “I’m sorry, I never got a chance to ask your name.”
“Lisa Danvers,” she said, shaking his hand.
“I’m Adam.”
“Oh we all know exactly who you are,” Lisa said. “The Lucid who had a kid.”
Adam felt a brief shock. In all of this he’d actually managed to get his mind off of Sara and Charlie and Sammie, and off of Kate. Now, unexpectedly, it all came rushing back to him.
“I’m sorry,” Lisa said. “I don’t think sometimes.”
“It’s ok,” Adam replied, forcing a smile. “I’m going to find Carl. Keep an eye on the lab.”
Adam left in the direction Lisa had indicated, and after a couple of turns he came to a large set of doors marked with an exit sign.
He had a brief moment of deja vu.
It was only a short time ago—weeks at the most?—that he was in a similar hall, running for his life. When he’d made the decision to take samples of that chemical, back at the water treatment plant, he had no idea just how far down the rabbit hole he would end up. He hadn’t thought it through, he supposed.
And now, here he was. One of just a few people who were immune to the heavy metal poisoning. One of the few Lucid. And his family …
He shook it off, and pushed through the doors at the end of the corridor, stepping out into the sunlight and cool air.
He could hear the generator immediately, and realized he’d been hearing it for some time now. The low, steady thrum of it filled this little pocket of open ground, the canyon between university buildings. It was muffled a bit, but no muffler could drown out that drone completely.
He looked around, trying to spot the source of the droning, and spotted Carl, face down.
He rushed forward, cautiously. He drew the .45, made sure the safety was clear, and led with it as he ducked from building corners to HVAC systems. He peered over one HVAC unit to see Carl lying prone, his head obscured from Adam’s view by the angle.
Adam glanced around the rest of the courtyard, looking for signs of anyone else. Someone had to have attacked Carl, and they might still be present.
Slowly Adam crept toward the man on the ground, and when he reached him he checked for a pulse, still darting his eyes up and around to make sure no one snuck up on him. The noise from the generator was comprehensive, and so overpowering that it felt like a physical presence in the courtyard. It made Adam nervous—aware that he was vulnerable.
Carl stirred when Adam touched his neck, a
nd Adam felt relief. He didn’t know Carl all that well, but at the moment he was as close to a friend as Adam had left. And he was a resource. Adam needed this entire team to stay alive, if there was any hope of getting through this.
Adam leaned forward so he could be heard as he shouted, “What happened?”
Carl shook his head—either a sign that he didn’t know, or a sign that he was still too disoriented to give an answer.
Adam helped Carl to his feet, and then guided him back toward the door Adam had come through. Once they were inside he could find the rest of the ex-military folks, and maybe together they could track down and eliminate any threats.
They were almost to the door when someone stepped out from behind one of the large HVAC units, wielding an axe.
He took a swing at the two of them, using the blunted back of the axe for a hammer strike. Adam reacted first by stepping back, then by tumbling to the ground with Carl in tow. Carl hit with a thud that was inaudible over the generator noise, but which clearly took the wind out of him. Adam landed on top of him, but rolled off quickly and got to his feat again, raising the .45.
The axe crashed down on his hand, knocking the gun away.
It felt like a colony of fire ants had suddenly struck his hand all at once. Intense pain shot up through Adam’s right forearm, and he wondered for an instant if his hand and his arm had been shattered.
No time, he thought, stepping back to make sure the man couldn’t get another blow in.
He finally had time to examine his foe.
The man was older, maybe in his sixties. His hair was white and long and tended toward stringy, as if it hadn’t been washed in several weeks. He had a few days of beard grow, and the ash stubble made him look haggard. But a pair of wire-framed glasses rested on the man’s nose, and he adjusted this with a finger even as he staggered a bit and raised the axe again.
“I’ll use the blade if I have to!” the man shouted. “Stand down! Just leave the premises and no one will be hurt!”
Adam nursed his throbbing hand, which was starting to get feeling again. A good sign—it might not be broken after all.