by Joshua Guess
Kell mulled that over. “Also probably didn’t help that no one was out there explaining exactly what we were up against. I guess even after a few weeks, no one had seen enough to understand that herds would be drawn to large gatherings of living people. I don’t know why that information was never spread.”
He was looking away from Emily when he said it, and felt a small hand cup his jaw a few seconds later. She turned his head slowly, looking into his eyes. “What did you just say?”
Kell frowned. “That I didn’t understand why more information wasn’t disseminated. I guess it was to keep people from panicking, which seems really dumb when you consider their neighbors were trying to bite them to death.”
“I’m trying to make sure I’m not misunderstanding you here,” Emily said patiently. “You’re saying you, and presumably others, knew about herd behavior and zombies tracking by scent, all that stuff?”
“Sure,” Kell said. “A lot of it I figured out after the fact, but that stuff was all in my initial report. Remember how I told you I lost a bunch of mice during one of our trials?” Emily nodded blankly. “Well, it was basically the same as what we see in zombies in terms of behavior. I watched several hunt down prey using smell alone. I know because their eyes were scratched out. Fucking awful. And the infected mice, the ones who turned after being attacked, always grouped up with others like them. I spent weeks working on this thing before it all went bad. There’s no way DARPA and the other agencies didn’t know.”
“Huh,” Emily said. “That...is definitely weird.”
Kell shrugged. “I always assumed they didn’t see the point. Most people couldn’t make any real use of the information, you know? Their options were limited mostly to run, hide, or fight. Knowing the behavior patterns of zombies couldn’t change those things.”
“You might be right,” Emily said. “I guess we’ll never know.”
She faded a bit then, drifting off once more into the liminal space between being fully here with him and off examining whatever complicated things she had to worry about for the mission. Kell had to continuously remind himself that he was as guilty of that same deep thoughtfulness when he was working.
He couldn’t escape a growing sense of guilt at the idea. His work, the job he’d set himself from the first day after he had chosen to live, was done. The cure existed and could be replicated. Not the perfect, instant solution he had always imagined, but it was enough. That was the lesson the end of the world taught him better than any other: sometimes enough had to do.
Emily, however, only seemed to take on more responsibility over time. Kell wasn’t arrogant enough to put all the blame for this on himself. She was a grown and ridiculously competent woman. She made her own choices. But it would have been dishonest to pretend he hadn’t let her pick up more of his slack over time. She had been willing to be his crutch—sometimes literally after losing his leg—and Kell let it happen.
“I’m sorry,” Kell said.
She could have drawn it out, pretending she didn’t understand that those two simple words were layered, and an apology on more than one level. “Me too.”
Kell stretched out his artificial leg, massaging feeling back into the knee. “I’ve got your back. We’re only a day or two away and I’m not under any illusions. You’re in charge. I’ll do what you tell me to. I want to get Mason back and stop these people from any more carnage. I’m just saying I’m with you, whatever it takes.”
Emily favored him with a wondrously sunny expression, so full of genuine love and amusement that it seemed to brighten everything around her. “Babe, that’s really sweet of you. It is. But don’t you get it? The reason I take on these things is so you don’t have to.”
Kell nodded, not insensitive or stupid enough to even think of taking anything away from her. “Yeah, I just want you to know it doesn’t have to all be on you. So if that’s how you want it, I won’t give you any shit. I won’t fight you. I don’t need to know details, you just tell me where to go and how high to jump.”
A slow, sly grin spread across her face. It was imperfect; her eyes still sat over dark and tired smudges. The corners of her eyes were lined prematurely by stress and hard time in the sun, though Kell considered this only as a piece of information rather than as a value. Time had begun to exact its toll on him as well, and to a greater degree, yet these marks added something not unlike the silvery weathering of old wood. It gave them character, he thought.
“Honestly,” Emily said, her voice simmering with restrained laughter, “I’d like you to just be yourself.” She raised a hand to stop him from speaking almost before his mouth had a chance to open. “I’m not being a smart ass. Totally serious. I think I just had an idea. Part of the plan is going to have to change now that Mason is in a cell and we’ll be in openly hostile territory instead of being treated like diplomats. I might have a way to make this work.”
He smiled back. “I never doubted for a second.”
Which was one of those pleasant lies all couples told each other. Before that moment, Kell would have sworn Emily had some brilliant master plan. Hearing otherwise blew a hard breath across the guttering candle flame that was his hope of surviving beyond the next few weeks.
Flickering, but not yet gone.
Emily
When their convoy was barely an hour away from the watch towers encircling New America, they stopped. Emily pulled the motorcycle, little more than a dirt bike, from its rack on the back of a truck. She gave orders and geared herself up, her only goodbye to Kell a wink as she pulled the helmet down over her face.
She had a good idea what the area around here looked like thanks to months of reports. Mapping was the first thing her people did, though technically they were Mason’s people at the time. She wore her armored coat and gloves, lined pants, backpack full of supplies and survival tools, and of course her rifle. It didn’t matter that she only planned to be gone for an hour. Anything could happen, and she planned to be ready in case the universe threw her a curve ball.
The rendezvous spot was right where her information said it would be and Emily was early. She leaned the bike against a tree at the edge of the small clearing where the cell transmitter was set up, then made her way to a tree stump and sat down. It wasn’t a long wait. Ten minutes passed before a wary form made its way through the trees on the opposite side of the clearing and moved toward her.
“Holy shit, you look terrible,” Emily said by way of greeting. “How are you doing?”
The agent was a short man named Howard, whose trade in the old world was working as an electrical engineer. “Not bad, all things considered. We’re ready to go at any time.”
Emily nodded, expecting nothing less. The whole point of salting new arrivals in the area with her people was to guide circumstances in their favor. The lion’s share of the work was finished ages ago. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. Have to admit, I’m a little surprised you got the message. I wasn’t sure whether you’d be able to slip out here to get a signal now that Mason has been taken prisoner.”
“Did something change?” Howard asked. “Other than Rebound apparently losing their minds for no damn reason?”
Emily had to be careful of how much information she gave him. Howard was in on the plan, obviously, but he also knew that the necessities of a flexible strategy meant she couldn’t tell him everything. “I don’t think they’re crazy. I think whatever council runs the place is in upheaval. Mason was already pretty sure they’ve got factions who want to deal with us and Kell in different ways. They want Kell for something important. We can only speculate what that might be. The fact that they changed tactics twice already says a lot about how disorganized and how desperate they are.”
“Twice?” Howard said.
Emily nodded. “Yep. Originally they wanted to work out a treaty with us and wanted Kell to show up here to do it. No mention of anything else like the bullshit they’re saying about him being responsible for the plague. We already knew they w
anted him and his research, though at the time we just thought they wanted the cure. Then, once Mason came here, they threatened more attacks and brought out their charges about Kell. Now they’ve decided to use Mason as leverage. It’s chaos, and that can only work in our favor.”
Howard frowned. “How does this help us?”
“It might not,” Emily admitted. “It tells us some things, but also means they’re on alert for any shenanigans. You’re the point of contact, so it’s up to you to spread the word for everyone to be careful. The key word is ‘microscope’ in case you were about to ask.”
“Got it,” Howard said. Emily was proud of the ways she’d improved on some of Mason’s work, the idea of key words being one of her better ideas. She’d helped set up the entire program, and as Mason’s partner she was able to influence its shape. Creating contingency plans based solely around key words allowed tactics to change on the fly with minimal—and thus hard to intercept—communication.
They talked shop for a few minutes longer. Just as Howard was readying himself to leave in order to make it back through the watch tower perimeter without being seen, she motioned for him to wait. “What should we expect? How bad is it?”
He weighed the words before responding. “The irony is that there’s enough unrest to make our job easier, but it’s also enough to make Rebound careful. I don’t think anyone will lynch you on the way in, but I wouldn’t bet much money on you or Kell getting out of that bunker alive.”
It was as honest an assessment as she could have asked for. “Thank you. Be safe.”
Howard dipped his head and left. Emily waited there for another ten minutes, alone with her thoughts. The thrust of what she and Mason were trying to do here was based on a simple principle. They accepted that without some kind of intervention, Rebound would keep trying to take Kell, which would lead to open conflict. That being a given, in a fight Rebound had some huge advantages. Even if they couldn’t win thanks to the sheer weight of numbers, the hardware at their fingertips would allow them to do incalculable damage to the Union, especially Haven.
Emily, Mason, Will, and the rest were tired of those kinds of fights. Wars were dumb and counterproductive. But it was also a given that without some kind of intervention, a war would come. Which meant that the base fact, the starting point, was them facing an enemy who would fight and kill a lot of people if or when bullets started flying. There were only a few ways to deal with that.
You could fight and lose lives. Been there, done that.
You could try diplomacy, which was certainly one branch of their efforts. But diplomatic solutions required good faith on both sides and Rebound proved it had none.
You could run away, but that would put everyone who might know where you went at risk. Even those who didn’t have a clue could be targeted for reprisal or used as leverage as Mason was now.
Which left one good choice: the Kobayashi Maru. Like the fabled Jim Kirk, you had to alter the fundamentals of the situation. You had to cheat.
In due time, Emily returned to the convoy and made sure everything was set up the way it should be. This took a little more time than she would have preferred, but doing it right was better than doing it fast. In the end, she headed toward the nearest watchtower satisfied.
At the border it was clear even from a distance that someone knew they were coming. The convoy rolled to a stop ten yards from the invisible line marking off New America territory. Sitting astride the road was an impressive collection of armored men holding guns like they knew how to use them, bracketed by aggressively armed vehicles.
In the front of the welcoming committee stood a trio of men in pristine armor. Emily pegged them as Rebound bunker dwellers easily from that fact alone. The contrast with the men surrounding them, whose gear carried scars and scratches, patched and taped, could not have been more obvious. The way they held themselves, the unconscious manner in which the other soldiers deferred to them through body language, these things served mostly as confirmation.
Emily and several of her guards barely got their feet on the pavement before the orders started coming at them.
“We’re going to need to take you into custody,” the middle man in the trio said without preamble. “Remove your weapons, place them on the ground, and remain still while you’re searched.”
“Counteroffer,” Emily replied laconically. “You boys do a Moses and part, and we might still decide to share the cure for the plague with you. We hid every drop of it we brought with us and set traps. We’re not going to fight you, but if you decide to take us prisoner, you never get the cure. We came here in good faith. I have no desire to help a bunch of dicks who can’t even honor their word long enough to help their own people.”
The words caused a reaction which made her double down on her assessment. The three men in the middle of the road froze while every other person on their side grew instantly uncomfortable. Men and women shifted uneasily at the idea that a cure might be withheld. Which was of course the point; Emily wanted to drive that thought into the brain of anyone who could hear her. Few people liked being treated explicitly as a different, and in this case lower, class. They really didn’t enjoy finding out the people in the class above them would act the fool and cost them something. Especially when it was something vital.
Emily was forcing them to turn a single option—the one that displayed their power and only that—into a binary one that would erode authority either way. If they insisted on disarming the group, the Rebound officers would be showing the rest of their soldiers that they didn’t care about the cure. Which was bad since the rank and file lived on the surface and had the same hellish experiences dealing with the walking dead most people had to endure.
If they caved, it showed a lack of spine. Emily didn’t have a preference. Either would provide an almost infinite number of branching possibilities she could work with and exploit, and either would tell her something important about New America. If she was really lucky, some unexpected third option would materialize, and that would be informative too.
The leader of the pack grew red in the face, clearly unhappy with this development. To his credit, he appeared to perform a cost/benefit analysis and reach the conclusion that the situation was now beyond his pay grade.
“Don’t move,” he said, walking to one of the vehicles and grabbing a radio handset once he was inside with the door shut.
Emily watched the pantomime as he spoke tersely with someone. She rocked on her heels, humming a to herself for a few seconds. Then she glanced at one of the other officers in too-nice armor. “You guys got any sports here?”
The man blinked. “What?”
“Sports,” Emily said. “Like, do your communities have a softball tournament or something? Because I’d like to catch a game if so.”
“Of course not,” the man said, bristling. “Our people are trying to survive.”
Emily raised her eyebrows. “Shit, so are we. Doesn’t stop us from having ten basketball teams. Life needs a little living in it, don’t you think?”
She meant to keep him—everyone, really—off balance with the comment, but caught a few people around the edges of the crowd give each other meaningful looks. It was impossible to know what they might imply, but a theory popped into her head that merited further investigation if she wasn’t in a jail cell. Did they not have recreation here? The idea seemed ludicrous at first blush. Human beings were animals at their core, but they were complicated ones. Social ones. No one could live with the constant stress and pressure of just surviving without some means to decompress.
“We do fine,” the man said tersely.
Somewhere in the crowd, a person snorted in derision.
So. Cracks in the foundation. She filed that away for future use.
A few seconds later, the leader of the pack reappeared. “We’re going to escort you to Rebound as you are. None of you are to leave your vehicles, open any windows, or show weapons at any time. No sentries on roofs. Any aggression wil
l be met with instant, lethal force. Understood?”
“Sure,” Emily replied breezily. “You’re the ones who invited us here. Least we can do is be good guests, right?”
“Fine,” the leader said, clearly disgruntled. “We’ll be boxing you in, with vehicles in front and back of your convoy. Make sure your drivers keep their eyes peeled for sudden stops. We’ve had a lot of zombie incursions this week. I’m supposed to deliver all of you in one piece, so don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.”
Emily graced him with a beatific smile. “As much fun as giving up my life to get you in trouble sounds, I’ll find the strength to hold myself back somehow.”
Mason
The cell was small. Buried deep within Rebound itself, where space was at a premium, this came as no surprise.
The cell was warm. Connected as it was to the bunker’s ventilation system and considering its bars opened onto a guard station, this too was not shocking.
For the first few hours of his captivity, Mason tried to decide what game they were playing, or if they played one at all. They weren’t trying to soften him. The lack of torture or hellish conditions proved that much. Nor were they trying a more subtle approach such as chipping away at him psychologically by ignoring him or systematically questioning him. The guards were professional and distant, the meals regular, he even had a small privacy curtain for when he used the toilet.