Through the Ashes (The Light Book 2)

by Jacqueline Brown

  I shook my head. “We assumed it was terrorism, but had no way of knowing. We knew a light flashed and everything died. We thought it was probably an EMP, but why or how it happened we didn’t know, and I guess it didn’t matter. What mattered was surviving. But now … now I guess it matters.”

  He looked at me, pity and sadness in his eyes. “It was an EMP—or several—and it was a form of terrorism, but not the kind you’re thinking.”

  I stared at him, the word “several” repeating in my head.

  “We know there were at least five, and possibly up to seven here in the U.S.,” Haz said, answering the question I didn’t have the courage to ask.

  “In the U.S.?”

  “There were many more throughout the world,” he said, his look faraway.

  “Wh-why? Who? Who did this?” I asked, anger replacing fear.

  He turned, looked at me, and then closed his eyes. A moment later he opened them.

  “We did.”

  “We did?” His words made no sense.

  He nodded.

  I stared at him, a knot forming in my stomach.

  “It was our country, or rather, some of our most powerful citizens that helped orchestrate the whole thing. It’s why we weren’t prepared, why we couldn’t protect ourselves. The threat didn’t come from outside, it came from inside. They knew how to override our defenses and they did.”

  “Americans did this?” The words sounded surreal on my lips. Nowhere in all the scenarios I’d thought about or we’d discussed during the freezing winter had there been an option for the U.S. imploding and taking the rest of the world with it.

  He nodded. “From all branches of government and others with power. It was our first bipartisan action in decades.” He smiled in a sad, defeated way.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Different reasons. Some thought we, and the rest of the world, were too far off course and needed a reset. Others aligned themselves with outside terrorist groups and their motivation was to weaken the country. Others were motivated by power. This seemed to be the motivation for those highest in government. Others wanted to ‘purify’ the country, get rid of the weak so we could create a new country, a ‘better’ country, in their mind.” He spoke with no emotion, only relaying facts. As if he was tired. Tired of the lies that had created all of this.

  “Our country will be strong with the weak gone. That’s what Trent said,” I told Haz as fear overtook me.

  Haz stared into my eyes.

  “It’s insanity,” I whispered.

  “And it’s happening. Why do you think your friends weren’t shot on the spot like so many others are?” His voice no longer void of emotion.

  “I wondered that too,” I said, acknowledging the fear that my friends were already dead.

  “They’re all your age, right? All strong and healthy?”

  I nodded.

  “Take away any one of those things and they would’ve been killed.”

  I sat, unsure of what to think or say.

  “The effects of the EMPs killed most of the ‘undesirables,’ but Trent and his band of murderers are killing the rest.”

  “So, that’s it? The bad guys win?” I asked.

  “Yes and no. Many of the ones who planned the actual attack have been found out and killed, their families left to freeze and starve with the rest of us.”

  “Didn’t they know their lives would be destroyed, like ours?”

  “They were prepared and their families were safe. They’d stockpiled food, water, medicine. They had electronics and generators stored in boxes the EMPs couldn’t penetrate. So yes, they were affected, but not like the rest of us,” he said.

  “Have we been attacked on the ground?” I asked.

  “No. Those who planned this, planned to weaken all the other major countries to keep them from invading or helping us. Plus, our navy is still fairly strong. We had a lot of boats all over the world when the attack happened. They came back as soon as they could and are now guarding as much as they can to keep invaders out. Some of the sailors came here initially to try and help decrease the violence, but many deserted, so the navy is keeping most boats from land.”

  “Deserted? Why?”

  “Wouldn’t you—if your family was literally starving and freezing—wouldn’t you risk everything to go to them?”

  I said nothing. I thought of East. She was right. The military can only be strong when families at home are safe.

  “Are there any police officers left?” I asked.

  “You aren’t really getting this,” he said in frustration. “I was fifty feet from the president when the vice president was shot for treason on a snow-covered White House lawn. What we are living through right now is a complete breakdown in society. If people aren’t safe, if they don’t have food and water, their priorities shift to themselves and those they love most, to ensuring they’re okay. Many in the police force, like those in the military, fled to save their families. Those of us without our own families stayed on as long as we could, but those of us with a conscience can’t be part of what’s happening. Instead we do what we can from the outside to protect others from the corrupt and power hungry. Those without a conscience stayed. Their power is growing.”

  He kept his stance, looking out the window. I sat, watching him, knowing he must be wrong. The world couldn’t be as bad as he thought it was.

  “What can we do?” I asked.

  His glare bore into my soul. “Nothing.”

  Twenty-Seven

  The sun had disappeared, but the earth still glowed with its memory. Soon, though, it would forget the sun, and the moon would become our only source of light. Haz didn’t lock the door behind us. He said if someone needed to come in, they could.

  He led the way, sticking to the shadows. I mimicked his footsteps. When a group of soldiers passed ten feet from us, Haz pushed me behind a corner.

  “If the soldiers deserted,” I whispered, “who are all these people?”

  “The military rounded people up, made them surrender their guns,” he answered in a hushed voice.

  We’d begun moving toward where he thought my friends were being kept.

  “And if they wanted food for themselves or their families, they had to enlist.”

  “That explains why I saw so many kids in the tent city,” I said, thinking back to the boy and girl gathering wood.

  “Yes, those with young children were the first and easiest to recruit. It was hard enough for adults to survive, but young kids, so many died in the first month.” He shook his head. “To many, it seemed the only way to save their kids was to enlist.”

  “Why don’t they leave now? It’s warm. They could survive outside of the city,” I said.

  “Once you’re in, there’s no getting out. Those who leave will be hunted and shot,” he said, his eyes emotionless.

  As we stood at a corner he asked, “Is the earth alive outside of the city? Some think it is, others don’t.”

  I nodded. “Once you get a few miles from the beltway you’ll see the green buds of spring.”

  “So people can hunt and live outside of settlements?” he asked, his eyes alert.

  “We did. There was no government, no group to help us. Survival for us—and, I think, for most—meant working with family and friends that you trust, and staying away, pretty much, hiding from others.”

  “In some ways we do that here too,” he said, surveying the seemingly deserted buildings around us.

  “Are you going to leave?” I asked as I walked swiftly behind him.

  “I have no reason to stay. Not since my parents ….” his voice trailed off into the nothingness of sorrow.

  “You could come with us. It’s nice where we were. Peaceful,” I said, longing to be home.

  “Thanks, but I think I’m called to do more,” he said, a hint of judgment in his voice.

  I wondered if he thought I was bad or selfish for wanting to find my friends and leave. Perhaps I was, but I had no
false belief that I was called to save the world. As I looked at Haz I realized he might be.

  A few blocks later he slowed his pace. My head was starting to throb.

  We walked now, slowly and cautiously in the shadows.

  “Did you ever see anyone who didn’t repeat the cycle? Of abuse, I mean,” I asked, chewing on my bottom lip. I wasn’t sure why it mattered what others I didn’t know had done in a world that no longer existed, but it did. I felt as if my life, and any hope I had of a happy one, depended on his answer.

  He turned and looked at me, his eyes reflecting the light of a nearly full moon.

  “Sometimes they ended up in the morgue, sometimes prison, and sometimes they went to the shelter or counseling and got some real healing. It seemed those were the options of escape.” He paused. “People who control know how to control. They’re good at it and good at making you think that everything is your fault. It’s not, plain and simple.”

  “Here’s the confinement camp,” he said, stepping aside so I could see around him.

  It was once a basketball court in a church parking lot. Razor wire lined the top and bottom of the chain-link fence. Moonlight flooded the area. I scanned the dirty, sunken faces. The wind brought with it the stench of human waste. My gaze shifted from one end of the makeshift prison to the other. A man moved, and my heart leapt. Behind him I could see Sara, Josh, and Blaise. A small squeal escaped before I could stop it.

  “You see your friends?” Haz whispered from the shadow of the building.

  “Some of them. There, in that corner,” I said, pointing. I moved my focus from one head to the other, desperately searching.

  “What about the others?” he asked.

  “No,” I whispered. I fought the terror building within me. “Have they killed them?” I asked, forcing the words to come though there was no air left in my lungs.

  “I don’t know. Don’t think about that. There are only three guards and the fence to get through. Let’s get this done,” he said, dropping to one knee and opening his pack.

  “What are those?” I asked, looking at the small plier-like things in his hand.

  “Wire cutters.” He zipped his pack and flung it onto his back. “Be fast and quiet. Fire your weapon only to save your life or mine, understand?”

  I nodded.

  “You need to keep those guards focused on you,” he said, pointing to the two men who stood at the front of the fence.

  “How do I do that?” I asked, feeling anxiety build.

  He looked at me. “Have a conversation.”

  “Put your gun behind your back,” he commanded.

  I pulled the gun from my waist and slipped it behind my back.

  “Ready?”

  I nodded. Not feeling ready, but knowing this was our only chance.

  God help me.

  I walked with as little intentionality as I could. I had to clear my mind and hide the fear in my voice.

  The guards saw me approach and so did Blaise. She tapped Josh and Sara on the arm to get their attention. From the corner of my eye I saw Haz run up behind the third guard. He tossed the wire cutters over the fence, almost hitting Josh. Sara caught them. Haz looped his arm around the guard’s neck and stuffed a rag in his mouth.

  “Hi,” I said, to be sure my two guards were focused on me.

  “Hi,” they said, walking toward me.

  “I’m kind of lost. Could you give me directions?”

  “You know there’s a curfew? You aren’t supposed to be out past dark,” the guard with knives tattooed on his throat said.

  “I know, and I got lost,” I said, tilting my head to one side, trying to look innocent. From that angle I saw a guard lying on the ground and Haz pulling the fence open.

  “Where’re you going?” the tattooless guard asked. The smirk on his face sent a shiver down my spine.

  “I was trying to find my friend’s place. She said it was near here,” I said.

  “No one lives near here,” the tattooed guard said. A look of concern crossed his face when he realized I was lying.

  At that moment Josh and Haz stuffed rags in his and the other guard’s mouths and used their arms to cut off their airflow. The guards fought hard. The tattooed guard lifted Josh as if Josh were riding a bull at a rodeo, but in the end the guard fell like the other one.

  “Are they dead?” I asked.

  “No, just unconscious,” Haz answered.

  Blaise picked up their guns and handed one to Josh. Haz already held one. In that moment of peace, Sara and Blaise threw their arms around me.

  “We thought Trent was going to kill you,” Blaise said, crying and holding on to me.

  Haz shoved us quickly into the shadows as the prisoners filed silently out of the makeshift prison and disappeared into the night.

  “Me too,” I said. We entered the darkness of a building.

  “He would’ve if he’d had time,” Haz said from beside me.

  “This is Haz,” I said.

  I knew I should say more of how I met him or that Trent had killed his father and, in truth, his mother, but I said none of that. There would be time later to explain the days and nights that had passed when I was away from my friends. Now was not that time.

  “Where are Jonah and East?” I asked, the knot in my stomach growing.

  The three of them looked nervously at each other. My mind twisted and my knees buckled.

  “They aren’t dead,” Sara said in a rush. “They were hurt. Some soldiers said they were taking them to a doctor.”

  Haz shifted, focusing on Sara. “Did they say which one? Did you overhear the name?”

  “I can’t remember,” Sara said.

  “Mudd. They said Mudd,” Blaise said from beside her.

  Haz nodded. “Let’s go.” He started to sprint through the alleys.

  “Who cut your hair?” Sara asked as we ran.

  “Haz,” I answered.

  “It’s cute,” she lied.

  “Thanks.” I gasped for air, trying to keep up, but fell farther and farther behind. My friends slowed their pace to stay with me. Haz continued on ahead of us.

  He finally came to a stop in front of a small medical building. The large sign on the front read: Mudd & Oliver Internal Medicine. The lights glowed inside behind closed plantation shutters.

  “Do they have power?” Blaise asked as we stared at the building.

  “Lanterns,” Haz said, starting to run again. The rest of us followed him.

  “Stay here,” he said when we neared the building.

  He went forward, to the back door, and knocked softly.

  My heart raced. What was he doing?

  I watched the window. A light moved closer and closer to the back door. It stopped, and Haz stepped into the small glow it cast through the window.

  He wanted to be seen.

  I looked at Sara. She looked back at me, her face matching my own nervous expression.

  “Who is it?” a man’s voice from inside called out.

  “Hazard.”

  The door opened. A man stood, gun in one hand, lantern in the other.

  “Say something.” The man’s voice was stern but curious.

  “I haven’t bathed in a month,” Haz said.

  “You haven’t brushed your hair in that long, either. Your mother let you come out looking like this?”

  “Mom is dead. So’s Dad,” Haz said, the sorrow mixing with hardness in his voice.

  The man at the door staggered backward, staring at Haz.

  “I have some friends with me,” Haz said, signaling us to step into the light.

  The man nodded. Haz waved us forward and we ran to the door. We entered. Haz locked the door behind us.

  We followed the man through the medical building that looked as though it had once, long ago, been an expansive home. He led us to an office. The nameplate on the door read: Samuel A. Mudd, M.D. The man shut the door behind us, set the lantern on his desk, and gestured for us to sit down. I didn�
�t want to sit; I wanted to find Jonah. Blaise grabbed my arm and pulled me down between her and Josh.

  The man sat at his desk and looked up at Haz. “How did they die?”

  “We were caught on our way back with the antibiotics. You know, the age limit. They didn’t know he was a doctor. They saw the meds and gray hair and shot. The antibiotics were destroyed in the process. I carried him home, and he died a day later. Mom died a week after him.”

  Tears formed in the man’s eyes.

  Fear threatened to overwhelm me, but I had to know. I had to know why Trent believed it okay to kill this man’s father. Keeping my voice low and soft, I asked, “What do you mean, age limit?”

  Haz looked at me, his arms crossed. He lowered his head to meet my eyes. “No one over the age of forty-five is allowed medicine unless they work in one of the approved professions.”

  He spoke as if in quiet desperation, hoping the reality he spoke of was not real.

  Twenty-Eight

  The man sat, elbows on his desk and head in his hands. After a moment, he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and lifted his head. He exhaled, and tears filled his eyes. He leaned back in the chair.

  “Why have you come?” he asked, looking at Haz.

  “We’re looking for their friends. A man and a woman. They’re prisoners, and we were told they were sent to you,” Haz said.

  “What are their names?”

  “Jonah and East Page,” I said, tentative hope filling my voice.

  “They’re here,” he said, nodding.

  “Where?” I jumped from the couch and my head throbbed with the sudden movement. Without thinking, I touched it. When my fingers hit the wound I winced and pulled my hand away.

  The man stood and came toward me.

  “Turns out she knows the guy who shot Dad,” Haz said, towering over me. “He did that to her.”

  “Trent shot your dad?” Sara said, and then clasped her hands over her mouth.

  I knew the words came out before she could stop them.

  Haz said nothing.

  “Bend your head forward,” the man said, holding the lantern above my head.