Deserted Lands (Book 2): Straight Into Darkness

by Robert L. Slater

  “So, Mr. Ray, who is running against you?”

  The girls tittered.

  “A great question! My assistant, Mr. Tony DiSilvio has agreed to run against me. It took a lot of convincing; he is loyal to a fault. But in the end he agreed that it’s important to give people a choice. We were hoping more candidates would step forward, but it’s looking like it will just be me and Tony. Any other questions?”

  Most of the class just stared blankly at him. Betsy relaxed in her chair, like she already knew everything. Mrs. Margent held her breath, as if a single puff of air might scare off a question.

  Crickets.

  Lizzie decided to raise her hand again.

  Mr. Ray made her stand up again, much to her annoyance.

  “Why are there extra rules about pregnant women? Why do I have to stay in city limits? Why do you think I can’t take care of myself?”

  “Something tells me, Lizzie, that you could take care of yourself better than some of our front line Collectors. It’s not that anybody doubts that. But we see you, and the little guy or girl you are bringing into this world, as a very precious thing. We want to keep all of you safe. It’s important, as well, that you feel like you are still in control of your lives. That’s why it’s important to vote.”

  Thing? Did he just call them things? Possessions? Lizzie stiffened.

  Mr. Ray swept the room again, making eye contact with everyone as if to drive home how much he wanted them to vote—or stay like little China dolls in a glass case. Then he brought his gaze back to Lizzie, still standing with her fists balled up at her sides. “Maybe you would like to discuss this further sometime, Lizzie? My door is always open. We could draft amendments to our charter that make sure our young women’s rights and freedoms are protected. I could think of nobody better to do it than someone as intelligent and passionate about the issue as you.”

  Like he or the council would listen to her, a young pregnant female. Lizzie was about to tell him where he could shove his charter when her phone buzzed.

  Mrs. Margent’s eyes narrowed.

  Lizzie shrunk slightly and pulled out the phone. The rule was no calls unless it was an emergency. She didn’t recognize the number and there were a string of texts from Rachael.

  “Sorry, I have to. My s—Saj has been sick.”

  Mrs. Margent relented and gestured to the door. “I am so sorry about that interruption, Mr. Ray. Class, any more questions?”

  Lizzie hurried out into the hall and answered the call, “Hello?”

  A scratchy voice replied. “Lizzie?”

  “Yes. Who is this?”

  “It’s Rachael.”

  “Rachael? I barely recognize your voice. Are you sick now, too?”

  “Dr. Wright wants to keep Saj and me overnight.”

  “What? Where are you?”

  “In the hospital. I’ve got what Saj had. He’s doing worse. His fever spiked and his little heart was racing so fast.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Chapter Nine

  AFTER ZACH’S AFTERNOON SHIFT, HE headed for the Provisional Utah Government Offices. He stood outside the translucent glass door for several minutes, steadying his nerves. The gold letters said the word District. Below Attorney had been scraped leaving a hollow, sticky shadow. He decided to go in rather than be caught waiting outside looking stupid. He knocked on the wooden edge of the door. “Captain Foote, sir?”

  “Enter,” said a gruff voice.

  Zach took a deep breath, and then pushed through, holding himself straight and in control. “Zach Riley, sir.”

  “You’re not in the Militia, yet, Zach. You can drop the sir.” The gray haired man set down the stack of papers he was reading and took off his glasses. “What can I do for you, son?”

  Zach spoke before he lost his nerve. “Sir— Captain Foote. I’ve learned something I think is important. But I was out of bounds, outside the walls and not on duty…” He carefully did not mention Lizzie. She would have to find her own way of getting in trouble.

  “Well?” The old man stared at Zach, his eyes blue and electric.

  “I couldn’t sleep. Went for a drive. I get a little stir crazy even with the ‘outings’ I get to take as a Collector.” Zach detected no change in the Captain’s manner. “Anyway, there were these brilliant lights in the distance like a football field on a Friday night. I checked them out and found this series of giant buildings, all fenced in. When I got near, I heard a car coming and hid. There were flashing lights and soldiers with guns. Real soldiers.”

  The Captain’s eyebrow raised.

  Zach’s face reddened. “Uh, like you, sir.”

  If Foote noticed he’d called him sir again, he didn’t correct him. “Where was this?”

  “I looked it up. Near Camp Williams. Some sort of government data center.”

  “Hmmm… How many soldiers did you see?”

  “Four. And the old guy in the car.”

  “Did they see you?”

  Zach shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not with how they responded to the guy in the car.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Zach described the search of the car.

  “Thanks. Zach Riley,” he said, writing out Zach’s name on a paper as he said it.

  Zach stood in silence as the captain continued to write.

  “I will need a more detailed report for Mr. DiSilvio. Go back to your quarters and write down every detail you can remember. Bring it to me in the morning, before your shift. Dismissed.”

  “Yes, sir.” Zach turned on his heel and shut the door carefully behind him.

  Had that been a good idea? What would they do with the info? Lizzie was safe. Nothing Zach said would indicate she was involved. But he was disturbed that the captain had not reacted like these United States soldiers were welcome neighbors. Did Captain Foote think there was a danger? Or was he worried about something else? The men at the facility were, despite the pandemic, still evidently doing their duty, as if somebody was still in charge.

  It struck Zach that he might not be able to call himself American anymore. They’d all been operating as though the government had been wiped out. And without government there was no country. It was a strange feeling, and it was suddenly worrisome. If these were U.S. soldiers on the base, America might not be as wiped out as they thought. And Zach just ratted them out to Captain Foote—did that mean he was a traitor or doing his duty?

  It was impossible to wrap his brain around it.

  When he got back to the house, Nev was sitting at the table staring into a tea cup. She barely acknowledged him. He was dying to ask her what she thought about the soldiers, and whether they were still American—if anyone would be able to help him understand it, she would. Or at least she would listen to his frustrations and then snuggle with him and make everything all right.

  “You okay, Nev?” He kissed her forehead.

  Her eyes focused on him. “Yeah, just thinking.”

  He wrapped arms around her, just holding her still for minute. Her hand patted his. He knew she’d tell him about whatever it was when she was ready. He found a notebook in the bedroom and brought it back to the kitchen table. He wrote as quickly as he could all the details that were important while leaving out the details about Lizzie.

  After a while, Nev came over to stand behind him. She hugged him from behind and then rubbed his shoulders. “Thanks,” Zach said, taking her hand and kissing it.

  “Do you mind if I read over your shoulder?”

  “No. I’ve got no secrets from you.”

  “Careful. You might want to keep some.”

  Zach paused momentarily. There was no way to tell her he wasn’t hiding anything from her without digging a deeper hole. He went back to writing. The pen made a pleasant scratching on the paper that reminded him of high school. God, things had been so much simpler back then.

  When he finished he sat back. He flexed his fingers as he wrapped his arms backwards around Nev. She bent
forward, still reading, and kissed his cheek.

  “I’m going to get ready for bed. Someday maybe you can tell me about the missing chunks.” She hugged him again and then walked down the hall and into the bathroom. He heard the water run and stared at the paper in front of him. He would tell her everything. She was his partner. And damn she was smart.

  He reread what he’d written, making minor changes here and there. About halfway through he realized this was probably the longest thing he’d ever written. And it hadn’t been difficult. He could hear his English teacher telling him to paragraph, to expand on the details. He wanted to make it better, not because of a grade, but because he wanted to do a good job. For once he wasn’t being treated like another fuck-up in a long line of fuck-ups.

  Lizzie alternated running and walking. She thought about calling one of the taxis, but she’d probably end up waiting longer than it would take her to get herself to the hospital. The populated areas of Provo had shrunk drastically since the outbreak. That was one of the legacies of Mr. Ray. At his urging, instead of still being scattered to the four corners of the city, most of the population retreated to the area around the college and the hospital, a few miles from the lake shore. As a result most of the amenities were within walking distance, though some were still a bit of a hike.

  The sun had gone down and the light had left the sky. The streetlights popped on as she passed by them. The walk to the hospital seemed to be taking much longer than it should.

  Finally, she shoved through the Emergency Room door. The heavy-set matron at the desk yawned a greeting.

  “I— My—” It took a moment of leaning against the counter before Lizzie could speak. “My baby!”

  “Slow down, miss.” the older woman’s voice was long and southern.

  Lizzie nodded and took a deep breath. “Sebastian Anthony Jones. Admitted with Rachael— Uh, um, Rachael.” Why can’t I remember Rachael’s last name?

  “And you’re his mother?”

  “No. I found him. His mother is dead.”

  “Of course, I didn’t mean— Old habits. I’ve been at this job for 23 years. Yes. Sebastian is here.”

  The woman’s name tag, covered with award stickers and smiley faces, read Flo.

  “I’ll list you as next of kin. Your name?”

  “Lizzie Goodin-Guerrero.” She spelled it out as Flo typed it in. “Where is he?”

  “Children’s ward with the woman who brought him in.”

  “Rachael.”

  “Yes.” Flo stood. “I’ll take you the most direct route.”

  Lizzie followed Flo, who moved quickly for her age and size. Her long legs probably helped. “Thanks.”

  They took the stairs. Lizzie shuddered remembering the elevator at the ‘hospital of the dead’ in Bellingham, where she’d found Mama and Jayce’s bodies. She had been to the Provo ER for prenatal check-ups. Most of the hospital had been condensed, like the city, so even non-emergency visits took place in the ER.

  “Why is he in the Children’s ward? I thought the rest of the hospital was shut down.” Lizzie asked, trying to block out the ghosts as they went deeper into the belly of the hospital.

  “Specialized equipment, and easier for quarantine.”

  “Quarantine?” Lizzie’s heart jumped.

  “This way.” Flo’s pace increased.

  Lizzie’s forced her short legs to keep up, her chest tight.

  A nurse with her hair pulled back in a severe bun frowned as they entered the children’s ward.

  “Sebastian’s mother,” said Flo.

  Lizzie took a step down the softly lit hall. Which door were Saj and Rachael behind?

  The nurse’s face softened. “I need you to wait here for the doctor.”

  “I can’t go in?”

  The nurse crossed her arms across her chest. “Not until the doctor talks to you.”

  Lizzie suddenly hiccupped. Not Now! Pregnancy had many challenges, puking was bad, but hiccups were worse. She held her breath, even though it never worked.

  “I’ll tell Dr. Wright you’re here. He should be with you in a few minutes.” She pressed the headset microphone on her ear. “Dr. Wright to Children’s Ward.”

  Lizzie felt a hand on her shoulder, Flo rubbed her back and led her to a chair.

  “Doctor Wright will take care of Sebastian. Don’t you worry.”

  Lizzie hiccupped in misery. She knew if Flo offered a hug she’d be bawling all over the woman’s light blue scrubs. “Thanks, Flo,” hiccup, “I know. Dr. Wright, he does my prenatal exams.”

  Flo’s face bloomed into a smile. “You’re having a baby?”

  Lizzie hiccupped helplessly. “Yeah.” She pointed at her convulsing ribcage with both hands as she hiccupped again.

  “I see.” Flo laughed, rubbing Lizzie’s back some more, as if she could relax the hiccups away. “Congratulations.”

  She stayed with Lizzie through a few more hiccups and then said her farewells, she couldn’t leave the ER unmanned for too long.

  Flo must be a great mother or grandmother, Lizzie thought. Then she realized any children or grandchildren Flo had were probably dead. She hiccupped.

  “The doctor won’t be long. I’m Nasira,” said the nurse from behind her station.

  Lizzie plugged her ears and swallowed. “Lizzie,” she hiccupped.

  “Can I get you some water, Lizzie?”

  “Yeah.” Lizzie put her head in her hands. She felt flushed. Was it from running here or was she getting sick now? She felt like she’d done enough running to last her a lifetime. Her eyes drooped. She had to be here for Saj. “Are you feeling okay?” Nasira asked, pulling up her mask and offering the plastic cup of water.

  “Yeah.” Lizzie took a sip, then put her mouth on the opposite side of the rim and tilted the cup to sip backwards. Rachael had come up with at least a dozen different hiccup cures in the last few weeks, none of which worked reliably. She wondered if the nurse had a straw. “Just hiccups, and now I’m feeling a bit dizzy.”

  “Try putting your head between your knees.”

  She did as Nasira instructed and felt a little better by the time Dr. Wright hurried in. His hair seemed more gray since her last appointment three weeks ago. “Lizzie, Saj is going to be fine.”

  Lizzie started to stand, then thought better of it. The hiccups seemed to be gone. Add head between the knees to the list. “Why can’t I see him?”

  “I’ve already got Rachael quarantined with him. Just a precaution,” he reassured her. “But if I let you in, you’ll have to stay.”

  “I’ve already been exposed to anything he has.”

  Dr. Wright’s brows creased. “Yes, I suppose you have.”

  “And if I am sick, shouldn’t I be here rather than attending birthing classes?” She couldn’t believe she was volunteering to be locked up.

  Dr. Wright pulled up his face mask and snapped on gloves before offering her a hand up. “Come on then.”

  Nasira offered her a trashcan to throw her plastic cup in and immediately dumped it in a bin marked Bio-hazard, finishing with a quick pump on the hand sanitizer.

  Lizzie used Dr. Wright’s arm to help her stand and steady herself. She was still feeling woozy. It couldn’t be from running.

  He led her down the hall, bumping a plate on the wall to open the double doors at the end. “People are afraid of a second wave. A mutated virus that’s more deadly.” He guided her to a glass door, where a laminated, bright orange sign read: Isolation - Gown, Gloves, Mask. “I can’t imagine anything more deadly, or that there is a virus left to mutate. It seems to have wiped itself out from its own virulence, but we can’t really afford to take chances.”

  Rachael and Saj were inside, snuggled in a hospital bed, sleeping.

  Seeing the tiny room, Lizzie hesitated. It wasn’t just the memory of the Hospital of Death in Bellingham holding her back. Memories of her time on the psych ward flashed in her head. Only for Rachael and Saj would she do this.

  Dr. Wrig
ht donned a paper gown, helped Lizzie into a wheelchair and wheeled her into the room.

  A moment of panic wrenched through Lizzie, but she focused on Saj and Rachael instead of the walls, which already seemed more cramped.

  “We’ll need to get some blood work on you,” he said, strapping on a blood pressure cuff and sticking a thermometer in her mouth. “Anyone else you’ve been in physical contact with during the last forty-eight hours?”

  Lizzie’s lips tightened around the thermometer.

  “Now, Lizzie, don’t think of it as narcing anyone out, we aren’t taking the sick away to be shot. Think of it as helping keep your friends and the community healthy.”

  Doctor Wright must be a mind reader, but he made a good case. Was this how cops got snitches? “Besides Rachael? Zach, my dad and a woman named Betsy in the birthing class.”

  Wright’s eyes widened at the last one. He already seemed to be calculating the hit to the brood mares.

  “Other than Betsy, I stay away from the rest of them.”

  “Good.” Dr. Wright’s face relaxed. “I’ll have Nasira begin the protocols.” He walked to the door, stripping off his gloves. “Press the button if you need something. Nasira will be here until morning and then someone else will replace her. You have to stay confined, but you won’t be alone.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got them,” Lizzie said, her gaze resting fondly on Rachael and Saj asleep in the bed. “They’re the ones who need me most. Thanks, Doc.”

  “You’re welcome,” he replied as he pushed through the doors.

  Lizzie climbed into the hospital bed behind Rachael and snuggled in with her arms around them both.

  Rachael opened fuzzy eyes and made a smooching sound. “Glad you’re here.”

  Lizzie luxuriated in the warmth, soon it would be unbearably hot, but for now, their warmth was all she needed. “Me, too.”

  Rachael pulled Lizzie’s arm around her, but when Lizzie hugged her back, Rachael squirmed. “Press there and you’re gonna make me pee myself.” She gently extricated her arm from under Saj and rolled toward Lizzie.

  For a moment Rachael lay her head on Lizzie’s chest like she was listening to her heartbeat, then as she scrambled over Lizzie to get off the bed, her hospital gown snagged on Lizzie’s fingers. Rachael collapsed back into Lizzie, giggling. “Don’t want to hurt the baby.”