He leaned back again and, in seconds, was asleep.
They stumbled down the steps of the bus and followed the others into a line. A female soldier handed out water containers and her colleague gave them all energy bars.
A middle-aged woman in a clean business suit walked into the holding area carrying a crate that she put down and then climbed on. She clapped twice for attention, like a kindergarten teacher, and began speaking. “Welcome to Ragtown. My name is Reese Summers, deputy administrator of this facility. You are now under the care and governance of the Mountain States and Boulder City Council. You will be provided with the basic necessities and appraised of the rules by which you will conduct yourselves during your time here.”
Bobby glanced left and right at the mixture of faces all watching the woman with rapt attention. Some looked puzzled, some accepting, all relieved.
“We will expect you all to play a constructive role in the success of Ragtown. Those who are fit and able will work in our irrigation and agriculture projects whose aim is to make the camp self-sufficient as soon as practicable. For now, you will be registered and taken through to the reception zone where, in the coming days, you will be debriefed and assigned work.
“Are there any questions?” She looked around, though obviously regarded the question as rhetorical.
Bobby put his arm up to an audible groan from those around him. “We left people on the road.”
“I’m sorry,” Summers said, though she looked anything but.
When she didn’t continue, Bobby asked, “When is the next bus?”
“There are no more missions planned.”
“But, those people…”
“Are unlucky. If you wish to go after them, you may do so, but if you leave Ragtown, I don’t guarantee you’ll be readmitted.”
“One of them’s a veteran! Fought in Afghanistan. He’s got a prosthetic leg!”
“Indeed?” Summers said, though she couldn’t hide the sneer. “I’m afraid that holds little weight here.”
Bobby thought he saw one of the guards standing behind her stiffen, but she stepped down from the box and was through the door before Bobby could press her.
He glanced at Eve, who stood quietly beside him.
“Poor Linwood,” she said, squeezing his hand.
“I haven’t given up on him, or Randall. I can’t work out why he gave up his seat for us.” Then he drew in a breath. “Hold on! I thought the driver said one on one off? So who got off with Randall?”
Eve’s face dropped. “Myron.”
“What?”
She nodded. “Bonnie told me. Randall suggested it, but Myron didn’t want to go. In the end, the guard had to practically throw him off the coach.”
“Did she know about Myron?”
Eve shrugged. “No idea. If she did, she didn’t mention it to me.”
“So, Randall’s out there with a murderer and he doesn’t know it? And I don’t even understand why he did it?”
“Maybe because you offered Molly water when she got sick? I don’t know. Perhaps he’s just a good guy?”
The line moved past a row of three folding tables with stern-faced soldiers sitting behind each. All were men in middle age or older, and he recognized the first one they reached as the soldier who’d flinched when Summers had disparaged veterans.
Steel-blue eyes flashed up at him. “Name?”
Bobby gave his details.
“Business here?”
“I’m looking for my daughter. Do you have a register of the people in the camp?”
“Not my business. Once you’ve been through orientation, you’ll have access to the administration team. Skills?”
“I’m an engineer. Electricals, tech, that sort of thing. Used to work for AT&T.”
The eyes widened momentarily. “Good, you will be useful. Is this your wife?”
Bobby opened his mouth, but Eve spoke first. “Yes. Evelyn Rodriguez.”
“Skills?”
“I can cook,” she said, shyly.
The man smiled as he looked at her. “You’ll also be useful.”
He rummaged in the desk drawer and took out two black tokens each with the number forty-two engraved in them. “I’m assigning you to temporary shared quarters.”
He pressed them into Bobby’s hand and gave a hint of a nod before turning to the next person in line.
Bobby glanced at Eve, then at the people ahead of them and noticed that none had black tokens, even though some seemed to obviously be together.
They received temporary papers at the next table, and a robotically delivered set of rules on the final one. Then the soldier at the table said, “Raise your right hand and repeat after me.”
Puzzled, Bobby and Eve did it.
“I pledge that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the Union of the Mountain States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I will bear arms on behalf of the Union of the Mountain States when required by the law; that I will perform noncombatant service in the Armed Forces of the Union of the Mountain States when required by the law; that I will perform work of national importance under civilian direction when required by the law; and that I take this obligation freely without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion and that this oath shall bind me until the re-establishment of the United States and its constitutional government; so help me God.”
Bobby repeated the words, hardly believing what he was saying. It was the Oath of Allegiance, except not to the United States that he’d been born in, but some new country that had been formed out of what remained. It seemed to him that the final part—the bit about the re-establishment of the United States—was almost an afterthought. For the first time, Bobby truly understood the scale of the disaster for his country. It was shattered.
They ate in a communal cafeteria and Bobby realized how hungry he’d become when he’d been focusing so much on water. Randall’s wife and children sat apart from them, having come back from, presumably, getting medical attention for Molly. But they kept their distance, and Bobby suspected Bonnie resented her husband’s puzzling sacrifice.
“I wonder where we are, exactly?” Bobby said as he finished his food.
“Somewhere outside Vegas?”
“South. Around Boulder City, I’d guess. My folks live in Pahrump, northwest of Vegas. They should have been safe enough, but I need to find a way to go see them once I’ve gone after Linwood.”
“You’re not giving up then? Good. That’s my man.”
After an hour or so, a bell sounded and one of the soldiers called for them all to head to their quarters. As they reached the door out of the reception area, Bobby handed over the black tokens. The soldier looked at them for a moment, glanced at Bobby, and then shrugged. “Head along to accommodation block alpha. Room forty-two.”
“This is weird,” Bobby whispered as they moved in the opposite direction to everyone else.
“What do you think we should do?”
Bobby looked along the row of doors. “I don’t reckon we have much of a choice but to play along.”
“I think it’s because you’re an engineer. They think you’re valuable.”
Bobby snorted. “Seriously? People with my specialty aren’t exactly hard to come by.”
“You mean, they weren’t. Everything’s changed, Bobby. A few weeks back, someone was worth whatever was in their bank balance; now I suppose it’s what a person can do that makes them valuable. You fix things. That’s got to be good.”
Bobby realized as soon as they went inside that these were hotel rooms. A double bed occupied most of the space, with a bucket chair and chest of drawers being the only furniture.
“Oh, my God, I can have a shower!” Eve called out as she ran into the bathroom. Moments later, she reappeared. “Not working.”
“It’s all here,” Bobby said, holding up a sheet of paper that had been left beneath the TV. “It says we have to go
draw water from a central point and use it to clean ourselves. Electricity and gas are being rationed.”
Eve sighed. “I hadn’t thought about that. I guess a lot of the power stations were flooded. Come on, let’s go get some water. Hot or cold, I need to get clean.”
By the time Bobby climbed into bed, he’d scrubbed himself raw in Eve’s secondhand water and felt a little more human. He rolled over and put his arm around her, falling asleep instantly.
“Bobby!”
He woke up seemingly seconds later.
“There’s someone at the door!” Eve hissed.
Sure enough, someone was tapping on it. Loud enough to wake them, but only just.
Bobby yawned and padded over to the door, opening it a crack to see the nervous face of the soldier who’d given them the room key.
“Can I come in?”
Bobby nodded and stepped back, admitting the man. He was, Bobby guessed, in his late fifties with short cropped gray hair that thinned around the crown giving him the look of a warrior monk.
“That story you told Summers, about your pal on the road, was it on the level?”
“Yes, of course,” Bobby replied, nonplussed.
The soldier nodded. “Okay. And he’s a vet?”
Bobby nodded. “Afghanistan. Lost a leg. A good man.”
“And is there any chance he’s still alive out there?”
“Yeah. Someone stayed with him. They had some water. But there’s no way he could make it back here on foot. He’s in a bad way.”
The soldier breathed in, then sighed. “Summers and the rest of the administration, they take us vets for granted. You know where you are?”
“Boulder City. It’s on the hotel paper.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Half a mile that way,” he said, pointing through the walls, “is the shore of Lake Mead, and beyond that the Hoover Dam.”
Bobby nodded, waiting for the man to reach his point.
“There’s a lot of vets here in Boulder, and the city and state authorities have…well I guess you could say recruited, but we didn’t have a lot of choice. We’ve lost some good men and women who really should have been able to enjoy retirement.
“But, anyway, we don’t like the attitude of the suits. If you want to go after your friend, I’ll help.”
Bobby felt Eve grip his arm. “How?”
“I can get you a car and a pass, but you’d better be back by noon tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s when you’re due to report for duty.”
Bobby made like a fish.
The soldier slapped him on the arm. “Congratulations, son. You’re in the Army now.”
Chapter 12
The President
The President of the United States sucked the cream off her cappuccino and sat down, wiping the milky mustache from on top of her lip. Buzz watched her and wondered what sort of new nightmare he’d walked into. He’d been traveling for twelve hours and all he wanted was to sleep in whatever holding cell they’d assign him.
“I’m glad to meet with you finally, Mr. Lightyear. Oh, good grief, I’m so sorry. I knew I’d do that at some point.”
Buzz grunted. “You’re not the first…Madam President.”
She looked at him with her head tilted to the side as if appraising a specimen. “I’m not exactly the sort of person who fills people with confidence, at least not at first. Very much V.P. material. But the Constitution’s very clear on the succession, so here we are.”
“Madam President, why did you have me brought here? Involuntarily.”
“I’m sorry that it had to be that way, Doctor. But it was a logistical nightmare to send the helicopter in the first place. Our initial visit to your settlement was part of a search that hopped from island to island, beginning from the west, but this time it was imperative that you came straight to me without any…ah…mishaps along the way.”
“I don’t understand,” Buzz said.
“Well, you see, we’re not the only ones who are after you. Your friends at SaPIEnT are pretty anxious to get their hands on you, and based on what we know about them, I suspect it was better for you that we got there first. Come in, Kessler.”
A younger man—younger than Buzz, at any rate—slipped in, all dark suit and spectacles. He had the air of a German accountant. The sort that tallied bodies in concentration camps.
Buzz almost laughed out loud when he introduced himself as Freeman.
“I have heard a lot about you, Doctor Baxter,” he said. “I’ve also researched your published work. Very interesting”
Buzz considered that. His contributions to science had generally been made to the exclusive benefit of his employers, and he could hardly imagine the man blinking at him from behind small, round glasses would have gotten much from them.
“You know, of course, Professors Lundberg and Rath of the organization SaPIENT.”
“Of course.”
“Did you know that they were here, sitting where you are, only a short period of time ago?”
The man did have a strange way of talking. As if he’d learned from a robot. But Buzz was surprised that they’d managed to find his bosses, let alone get them into a room with the President.
“They provided an account of events that you might wish to…um…let’s say provide a different perspective on.”
And Freeman proceeded to describe their meeting and the story related by Lundberg and Rath. Not surprisingly, it sought to minimize their responsibility for how things worked out, and to maximize his.
Despite himself, he became more and more angry as the president’s stooge continued. He thought he could hear Lundberg’s voice a little more clearly than Rath’s, but both were complicit in throwing him under the bus.
“So, is this a trial, then? Or are you just laying out the case for the prosecution?”
Freeman blinked again, as if surprised. He glanced across at the president, who was dunking a small, hard cookie in the remains of her cappuccino. “We’ve brought you here because we want your help, and for your own protection.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Freeman adjusted his glasses and pulled the sleeves of his jacket straight so they lined up with his shirt cuffs. “From their deposition and based on intelligence we have received, we believe they have sent one or more—what shall we call them? Agents?—to track you down and abduct you. Indeed, we were gravely concerned that they might have succeeded before we were able to arrive.”
“How could they possibly find me? They don’t know where I live,” Buzz said, determined to play dumb.
“It is my understanding that they traced an attempt to hack into their servers. They were unable to pinpoint your location precisely, however, and were waiting for you to try again so that they could refine their estimate. When we last heard, they were on the verge of sending in their team. It is a matter of some curiosity that they delayed.”
Buzz rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling every mile of the journey here. “Max,” he sighed
“I’m sorry?” Buchanan said, suddenly all attention, every trace of exhaustion banished.
“A…friend, I suppose. A kid, really, but a genius.”
“And what does this…genius have to do with these matters?”
Buzz leaned back in his chair, wincing as it creaked beneath him. “He was the one who hacked into SaPIEnT’s servers. I found out about it and sent him away.”
“You threw him out?”
“Of course not! Some other…acquaintances were going west and they took him with them, him and a companion. I decided he was safer on the road than staying with me.”
Buchanan thought about this for a moment. “Huh! Seems you were wrong about that. But it seems that this explains why SaPIEnT haven’t already visited your island. They think you’re no longer there. They’re chasing Max.”
She was right. Buzz imagined a demonic shadow stalking Max and the others as they went west, just waiting for the right mo
ment to swoop, only to find that they’d snared the wrong person. What would happen to him? Rath was no murderer, but SaPIEnT employed some pretty unsavory people to do their dirty business. He’d run into some of them—that goon at Bonn Institute, for example.
“Of course, we can assume that they haven’t yet caught up with your friends, or have only done so recently, or they’d have realized their mistake and come after you,” Buchanan added. “But now, Doctor, it is time for you to talk. Ask not what your country can do for you, and all that. Tell us your side of the story and then we will put you to work. I want an answer, Doctor. I want a cure. I have arranged the means of delivering it, all I require from you is the magic pill.”
The following day, Buzz sat in the back of a minivan looking through the dark glass, a yawning Jodi beside him. An unnamed agent drove, with Freeman Kessler alongside him, seemingly unaffected by the long hours they’d spent going over Buzz’s account.
They turned out of the Hazleton Airport entrance, past the miniature tank and onto the main road. Buzz hadn’t seen much of the airport when they’d landed in the dark the previous night, but whatever his imagination had suggested had been entirely unmet by the real thing. It was a small regional airport specializing in single engine private planes but, Buzz reflected, beggars couldn’t be choosers when most of this half of the country was underwater. Hazleton had barely escaped, with the ocean lapping at its outer limits and then no land between it and what remained of Europe.
The president had established herself in a red brick building that had previously been home to a number of small businesses. Around the building, and the metal hangar next door, the military had thrown up a protective screen of soldiers, vehicles and barbed wire.
Survivors: Deluge Book 3: (A Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Story) Page 10