She sent Hodges off to gather the deputies, brought her weapon to bear and then watched as it crawled closer. They were certainly military, probably from the National Guard base in Seattle, but Josh Miller's report had shown they were not bonafide soldiers. The convoy halted a couple of hundred yards out. A single figure got out of the leading jeep and looked down the road at them. He took a pair of binoculars and examined the barricade, before talking to a man beside him.
He then got back in the jeep and waited as the other vehicles, mainly trucks, turned in the road and trundled out of town. As they disappeared from view, the jeep sat on its own in the middle of the road. The man stood up in his seat and very deliberately pointed at the watchers on the barricade, making clear his unspoken intent before the car swung around and followed the convoy away.
We'll be back.
Chapter 10
Solly adjusted the backpack and trudged along Northern Boulevard. He picked his way between abandoned cars and tried not to let the utter silence overwhelm him. New York was dead, and he was wandering among its bones.
No, not completely dead, not completely silent. He could hear Janice's soft but confident stride a few paces behind him and he knew that Ross would be sticking close to both of them.
They'd spent the previous day getting prepared for the journey. The first thing they'd done when they'd reached Solly's apartment, was to move Mona's body. They'd wrapped it in his duvet and carried it next door, laying it in the bed of his former neighbor.
The boy's story was fairly straightforward. He'd been at home in bed when he'd heard a cry from the living room and found his mother collapsed in front of the news. He'd run out of the apartment and into the hands of Lenny's gang. Solly believed the poor boy had been in a state of shock since the beginning. At some point, his mind would try to grasp the true consequences of what had happened and then he'd need catching.
As for Janice, she was a mystery. Solly hadn't asked many questions, and she'd volunteered next to nothing. He didn't even know why they were so intent on coming with him to Texas, except that even if he hadn't had this compulsion to find his family, he'd want to get out of this dead city as quickly as possible. He doubted they'd go all the way but, for now, he welcomed their company.
The initial plan was to walk out of Manhattan on the 278, so Solly guided them past the no entry sign and up the slipway. The road was raised up so they could look down on Queens as they walked along.
"Don't get too close to the edge," Solly said as Ross peered over the barrier.
"I'm not going to jump off," the boy responded.
Solly took in the view. Nothing was moving though here and there he could see columns of smoke rising gently into the brisk morning air. They'd decided to set off as soon as it was light because the days were short enough as it was. They would follow the 278 to Williamsburg, then across the bridge there and through the Holland Tunnel on the 78. According to Solly's estimates, based on the maps they'd looted, this was the quickest way out of the city that headed in the right general direction on the other side. As it was, they wouldn't get through it in one day and he didn't relish spending one night in New York, let alone two.
"We mustn't be seen."
Ross jumped back down. "Who's gonna see us?"
Solly started moving along the road again, being careful to pick a path along the center rather than near the edge since that gave them the cover of the stranded vehicles. "Oh, there are people here," he said. "And I don't want to attract their attention."
They'd come across others during their supply expedition the previous day. Ross was the only one of them who'd done any serious camping, so he'd written a list of the things they'd need. First and foremost was warm clothing and portable shelter, so they'd raided an Army and Navy store. The glass frontage had been smashed, but there was still plenty of stock to choose from. While they'd been in there, a man had appeared holding a handgun. He had a woman and child with him and the look of a person at the very limit of his ability to cope. They'd backed away without a word and, after that, had kept close together in case they ran into anyone else.
Others had done what the government had said and were staying in their houses and apartments. After a time, it became easy to tell which homes contained the living and which were tombs. Solly found their faith in their government both touching and a little sad. He couldn't imagine how a functional administration could have survived the dying, and so these folks would be faced with the choice of either obeying their orders and starving to death or taking matters into their own hands. They should certainly disguise themselves better, Solly thought; if he could spot which places were occupied, then others with worse intentions could.
Of course, they'd move a lot faster in a car, but only on a navigable road and so the plan was to wait until they were on the outskirts of the city and then find a vehicle. So, this first part was likely to be the worst, as they crawled like ants through the wreckage.
Solly pulled the hood of his coat down around his face and tightened his scarf against the icy wind. Snow began to fall gently, and he exchanged a resigned glance with Janice who was trudging along beside him. The further they went, the more like a parking lot the road became. Occasionally, they'd catch a glimpse of something horrific lurking within a vehicle, so they kept their gaze firmly on their feet or on the horizon. They'd scavenged cars for weapons, but as soon as they'd found a couple of pistols tucked inside gloveboxes they'd stopped looking, though Solly had stuck with the Ruger revolver that had once been Mona's. Abandoned cars didn't contain weapons, they'd discovered, so they targeted those with bodies inside and there was only so much of that any human being could bear. Despite the cold weather, the dead were beginning to smell.
"We're nearly there," Solly called as he spotted a little park with a statue of George Washington. The road ran under a red steel archway that read Williamsburg Bridge before crossing the river, but Solly led them to the walkway on the right. It would be good to get away from the cars for a while.
They took shelter beneath the flyover and ate a little food. They'd stuffed as many energy bars into their packs as they could fit, but Solly reckoned their diet would get boring pretty quickly. He patted his stomach and contemplated the inches he was going to lose. He'd be a new man by the time he reached Bella. Maybe she'd see him differently. As he felt dark thoughts begin to coalesce, he shook his head, got up and led them onto the pedestrian lane.
The wind sang in the ironwork of the bridge. Thankfully, the snow had come to nothing, but Solly was grateful for the Arctic-grade coat he'd liberated. His stomach tightened as he walked out over the river, fighting against the gale that was whipping along it. He gazed out at the tower blocks of lower Manhattan on the other bank. There lay the Empire State Building, standing proud in the silent city. He wondered how many dead were inside that monument. From here, the vista looked like a graveyard.
At the end of the bridge, they descended into streets lined with brown brick buildings and graffiti-laden walls. Solly stopped them for a moment as he spotted movement. They waited, but there was no sign that they'd been seen, so they moved on, returning to the main road and using the stranded vehicles as shelter. He'd never appreciated just how vast New York was—they'd been walking for hours and yet the greater part of the journey out of town was still to come.
"Hey!"
Solly swung around to face the caller, pulling the revolver from his pocket.
A man was striding toward them with his hands held high. In one of them he held what looked like a rifle. Solly could see movement behind him as others appeared from around and behind vehicles.
"I'm not after a fight," he called. "The name's Fisher, Pastor John Fisher. Welcome to the end of days, my friends."
The man laid his weapon down on the roof of a car and moved toward them with his arms open in greeting.
Janice pushed past Solly and embraced Fisher. He was a tall man of late middle age, his head topped with a woolly hat framed with shor
t gray hair. Piercing blue eyes sat above an aquiline nose and he was clean shaven. Solly rubbed his stubble before extending a gloved hand.
"You are truly blessed," he said as he shook. "For you are the chosen ones. You have survived the great cull and are selected to prepare the way for the rebirth into paradise. Come, we have a place where you will be safe. We are few, and you are welcome."
There was no question of refusing the offer. There must have been a dozen people with him, all men, all armed and all smiling as they greeted the three wanderers. "Our women are safe," one said in response to Solly's question. "They, and the children, are protected as we forage."
Neither Janice nor Ross shared Solly's unaccountable reluctance to go with them. It was as if Janice had come to life as soon as she'd met Fisher, her face was alight with excitement and relief. Solly had no doubt that she, at least, would remain here when he moved on tomorrow.
Solly learned that they'd set themselves up in the Mayflower Theater. There were only two entrances and the dressing rooms had been turned into bedrooms for the women and children, with the men sleeping communally in the bar. Two armed figures slipped out from the shadows as they climbed the short flight of steps. "Rejoice," Fisher said. "We have found more lambs spared by God's mercy."
One of the men wore a camouflaged uniform and a balaclava. He nodded to someone Solly couldn't see and the door of the theater swung open as another uniformed figure pushed against it.
"Come, you must have something warm to drink and eat," Fisher said as he strode toward the restaurant. A deliciously tangy smell of spicy food floated out of the large room as Fisher pushed open the door.
It was mainly empty inside but a group of around twenty women and as many children sat at tables in the center.
"You have arrived at an opportune time. We were about to return for our evening meal when we spotted you. Sit now and break bread with us."
While the pastor had been a welcome sight at first, there was something about the man that was starting to give Solly the creeps. Solly wore his religion pretty loosely, but it wasn't any conflict with his beliefs that was bothering him. He couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe the events of the past few days had left him suspicious of everyone.
Solly gestured around at the lights and the steaming food. "Where are you getting power from?"
"The theater has a generator. One of our tasks is to drain the vehicles of their gas—easier said than done—but we will soon have to find a more dependable source. That's why we are so welcoming of newcomers. Extra hands, Mr. Masters."
Fisher had guided Janice to a place at an empty table, and he gestured to Solly to sit next to her. "Tonight, you shall eat together," he said, "though it is our custom that women eat separately."
"Why?" Solly asked. He could see Janice's face tighten as he did so.
"In these dangerous times, the company of men is not necessarily pleasant, my friend," he said. "Each day, we must see and do things that, just a short time ago, we would have found impossible to comprehend. The men need time to themselves to... unburden." He sat down on the opposite side of the table.
Janice nodded at these words as if they made perfect sense. Frankly, Solly decided, they probably did. New rules for a new world.
A woman approached with a tray that held three bowls of soup and placed one in front of each of them. She made no eye contact, but merely bowed and retreated again.
"This is General O'Dowd," Fisher said as a large man in battle dress appeared and took off his cap to reveal a bald head. O'Dowd was nearer sixty than fifty but could still snap off a brisk salute. And if he's a general, Solly thought, then I'm a monkey's uncle.
Solly took the man's hand, but O'Dowd turned immediately to Fisher. "Mission successful, sir," he said.
"Good," Fisher responded. "We can discuss the detail later. Make sure that all is secure while I chat with our new friends."
As the big man turned and left, followed by two uniformed cronies, the warning bells in Solly's mind only got louder. Still, there was nothing he could definitely point to. He'd been allowed to keep his weapon, though the one Ross carried had been confiscated, and the soup was delicious, but there was something about this that felt disturbing.
After the meal, Solly and Ross were led to the bar where they were given a spot on the floor to roll out their sleeping bags and leave their gear. Janice went below to the dressing rooms and, after half an hour, they met her in the auditorium. "It's lovely," she said. "I've got a room to myself, though they said I'd have to share eventually. How nice of them to give me time to settle down."
Solly grunted and was rewarded with a nudge in the ribs from Ross. "What's the problem? Seems to me we've gotten lucky. We've got food and somewhere to sleep safe tonight. That's what we wanted, wasn't it?"
"And tomorrow? Are you coming with me?"
Ross gave a noncommittal shrug. Janice ignored the question entirely. He didn't blame her. She'd gone from almost being torn apart to having her own bedroom in a safe place surrounded by other women. Maybe he was being cynical. Maybe good things could still happen.
As they'd been talking, others had come in and sat in the theater seats. They were all bunched together in the front rows so, from a certain angle, it looked as though it was a full auditorium. It was a pretense, but a nice one, even if just for a few moments.
"People of Arda," Fisher said. He was standing behind a podium that looked as though it had been dragged from the orchestra pit. "Today has been a good day. It has been less than a week since Judgement Night and already our numbers have swelled to almost one hundred. We are truly blessed to have found one another, and I know, as I look at your faces, that you share with me the earnest desire to do God's work and prepare our city for what is coming."
Solly listened to the man speak, nodding when others nodded and clapping when others applauded, but the sense of disquiet was only growing, not dissipating. Around him, however, he could see nothing but joyous acclamation, though he'd have estimated the audience at closer to fifty than a hundred. Perhaps some were still out on patrol.
Fisher spoke for an hour. He talked of the wickedness of the old world and the cleansing that this had brought upon humanity. He talked of a new world where goodness and compassion were the rule rather than the exception. And he talked of the middle world, the world of now, that they must survive and craft in order to bring about the kingdom of peace.
In truth, his speech wasn't so very different from others he'd heard from the more radical preachers of all religions. The difference being that he wasn't warning of what was to come if the congregation didn't turn from their current path, he was promising a new world out of the ashes of a very real apocalypse. And maybe he was right, maybe he was exactly what the world needed.
The beer flowed freely that night in the men's bar and Solly gave little thought to wider matters. Tomorrow could take care of itself. Most of the men seemed pretty normal, though one or two kept to themselves. Solly spotted one man who sat in the shadows nursing a glass, but barely sipping from it. His face was drawn, as if in exhaustion or grief, and he occasionally looked up. Once, he caught Solly's eye and nodded. He put two hands together as if in prayer and then brought them around to the side of his head, miming going to sleep. Was he suggesting Solly should sleep, or that he wanted to? In either case, who cares?
He watched the man get into his sleeping bag before climbing into his own, struggling to stay awake as the last stragglers settled themselves down. He'd dropped off when a hand clasped down on his mouth and a hoarse voice whispered, "If you love your woman, get her out of here tonight."
The hand was withdrawn and Solly could see the faint outline of the sober man's face. "Why?" he whispered.
The man looked left and right before bringing his mouth down to Solly's right ear. "This is a cult, no woman is safe," he said, before slipping back to his sleeping bag.
Chapter 11
Belle found Nathan Woods sitting up in bed as she brought him a
tray of food and a steaming cup of coffee.
"Morning soldier," she said. "How are you feeling today?"
Funny how a smile can transform a face. And Private Woods ("Tiger" to her father and the children) was the sort of man who smiled often. It was like the sun appearing from behind a cloud.
"I'm doing fine, thanks ma'am."
Bella hated being addressed that way. She wasn't his mother. There was no more than ten or eleven years between them, after all.
"Well, you enjoy your breakfast and come down when you're ready."
"I will, thank you again. I plan on making myself useful today. Been a burden for too long."
She straightened up and headed for the door. "See how strong you feel later. We've got everything covered for now."
Well, that was a barefaced lie right there. Nathan was now eating the last of the bread—and she'd been forced to scrape the mold off that before toasting it—and the generator was down to its last few gallons. They only ran it at specific times of the day, but she wasn't going to be able to avoid a supply run for much longer.
A week had passed since the night when everything changed. Nathan had spent the first two days asleep with Al sitting at his bedside constantly. Her father seemed to have focused all his energy on the young man and had been on hand each time he'd awoken to encourage him to drink.
It was the fourth day when he finally returned to full consciousness and then they had the pain to deal with. The bullet had smashed the Bones implant, and this seemed to have driven splinters into his shoulder-blade that they could do nothing about other than to exhaust their supply of pain relief. Another reason they needed to go out for supplies. His left arm was practically useless, and she knew he found it intensely frustrating. He saw it as his duty to recover enough to report to the National Guard HQ in Seattle, but there was no question of his leaving them any time soon.
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