Those Who Lived: Fallen World Stories

by Megan Crewe

  Sometimes Nate was so easy I was ashamed of how nervous he made me. Like, when I’d come down to meet him in the parking lot where Michael was overseeing the loading of the industrial coolers with our first batch of the vaccines for up north into the trailer hitched to the Mercedes’ rear, I’d patted the convertible’s gleaming red hood and said, “Couldn’t ask for a sweeter ride,” and Nathan had grinned and preened his dark brown hair and said, “Then get yourself in here,” as if there’d never been any hostility between us.

  We made good time cruising along the vacant highways—the snow was long gone even in the northern states now. Nathan and I didn’t talk much, Nate preferring to blare club music from the convertible’s speakers, but he handed off the keys to let me take over driving for a few hours with only a narrow look and a warning to forget any stunts. We stopped to meet up with a group of Wardens in Pittsburgh, who refilled the tank and the jugs we were carrying and eagerly accepted one of the vaccine coolers, and continued on across the border in the fading daylight.

  As night settled in and the headlights caught on a sign announcing just a hundred more kilometers to Toronto, I was starting to think maybe Michael was even more of a genius than I’d given him credit for. Maybe sending Nathan off to run his own fiefdom was exactly what the guy needed to simmer down. If he relaxed all on his own, I could just hang back and offer my approval, no maneuvering necessary.

  Then the last song on the CD faded out, and Nathan didn’t immediately reach for a new one from the binder I suspected he’d found with the car. The last time we’d filled the tank, he’d pulled the top up, but he’d left his window down. The air washing in from outside had taken on an uncomfortable chill. I’d zipped up my jacket and tucked my hands into my pockets rather than complain. Nathan’s narrow face and hands were pale, but then, they were always pale. It was hard to tell whether he didn’t feel the cold or was making a show of how tough he was.

  “You started out up here,” he said.

  I nodded. “I was here a couple months, mostly doing the same work as in Georgia: the radios and that.”

  “I want you making sure the existing establishment accepts their new management,” he said. “You know them, you encourage them to see it’s in their best interests not to mess with me. Do you think anyone will need extra persuading?”

  If I was going to nudge Nathan toward a more diplomatic approach, I couldn’t get a better opening. “I haven’t seen them in a while,” I said. “But the people I worked with before, they’re like the Wardens down south. They don’t really like taking orders, but they do because they can see it works to their benefit. You show you’re there to lead them, not knock them down, and I don’t think there’ll be any trouble.”

  “You sound like a shrink,” Nathan said. “I don’t care what they like. They’d better be prepared to get knocked down if they don’t get in line fast.”

  “Michael’s informed them we’re coming. They’ll be ready for the change.”

  Nathan’s mouth curled into a sneer. “What kind of ready, we’ll see.” He shot me a look, his eyes shadowed in the dim light that reached us from the headlights. “We need to watch out for ourselves up here. This is going to be my city, and that’s just the beginning. You prove yourself, I’ll keep you along.”

  “Hey,” I said, backing off any intention other than gratifying him, “you’ve the one who’s here, not Michael. I know who I’m taking my orders from.”

  His sneer jerked into a scowl. “Whatever Michael tells you to do, you do,” he snapped. “I don’t want to be picking up your slack.”

  “Right,” I said. “Of course not. That won’t be a problem.”

  He turned the music back on, and I resolved to keep my mouth shut for the rest of the drive. Maybe once we got settled in, and I’d been around him longer, I’d get better at predicting what he wanted to hear.

  Or maybe, with Nathan, sometimes there was never going to be a right answer.

  Since I’d left the city, the local Wardens had moved headquarters to one of the larger fire stations, with the rescue vehicles cleared out to make room for their assortment of cars and trucks and a large storage area. The inner circle of Wardens lived in the station’s dorms, and close associates in the low-rise apartment building next door. Janelle, the sharp-eyed woman with a boxer’s build who’d been at the top of the hierarchy when I left, had obviously gotten the message about the new leadership. Two of the dorm rooms had been vacated to give both Nathan and me a private space, while everyone else was doubling up. But after the long hours in the car with Nate’s uncertain temper, I didn’t have the energy to wonder who we’d displaced or do anything other than offer a few greetings before I crashed onto the cot at half past midnight.

  The Wardens had reorganized elsewhere as well, in anticipation of our cargo. When I strolled into the common room the next morning, I noted the industrial refrigeration unit set against the wall, which the vaccine vials would have already been unloaded into. Janelle was sitting at one of the tables, eyeing the fridge over the top of her coffee mug. She turned her piercing gaze on me.

  “Some of those doses had better be for us,” she said.

  True to his word, Michael had given his very first batches of the vaccine to those on the compound in Georgia. I expected his orders here were similar, but he’d given them to Nathan, not to me. It was a little early to risk stepping on the boss’s toes.

  Of course, Janelle’s bad side wasn’t a great place to be either. I’d seen her break a guy’s nose for mouthing off.

  “I think so,” I said. “You’ve got a doctor prepped to do the administering?”

  “A couple. They’ll set up shop in here, once we let them know they’re needed.”

  “I’d imagine we’ll get started right away.”

  “A lot of people out there already waiting for it,” she said with a raise of her chin toward the front doors. An edge crept into her voice. “You two are the head honchos now. You just say the word.”

  “I don’t think it was a criticism of your work,” I offered. “Michael just wanted people in place who are a little more familiar with the vaccine. Anyway, it looks like you’ve got everything in good order already.”

  Finally she gave me a hint of a smile. “Hard to believe it’s actually happening,” she said. “No more friendly flu! I’m looking forward to having that worry off my back.”

  “The doctors are saying we should keep up the basic precautions, face masks and that, in case it doesn’t give total immunity,” I said. “But yeah. It’s a good feeling.”

  A couple Wardens were posted in the entry hall. I peered past them through the glass doors, and saw what Janelle had meant about the people waiting. Word had obviously gotten around that the vaccine was on its way. A couple teens in ratty clothes were sitting on the edge of the sidewalk outside, eyeing the building, and a middle-aged woman was pacing back and forth across the road, darting glances this way.

  Nathan stalked into the common room just after I stepped back, his cheeks and jaw pink from a fresh shave. He was wearing one of his usual slim suits, this one silvery gray. “All right,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I want the troops in here a-sap so I can lay down the ground rules.”

  Janelle headed to the radio room. “I’ll call everyone in,” she said.

  “Nathan,” I said while she could overhear, “some of the vaccine is set aside for the Wardens here, isn’t it?”

  “You’re getting ahead of me,” he said in a tone that walked the line between amused and irritated. “Anyone who deserves it will get it. We should see what sort of response we get to the initial announcement before we go dividing up what we have. Milk everything we can from the saps out there who want their hands on it right away.”

  Janelle’s mouth tightened. Nathan was forgetting how desperate the people in here might be. Neither of us was going to make any progress toward Michael’s goals if we turned our supporters against us on the very first day.

  “Good
point,” I said carefully. “Could help us police things, though, if none of us has to worry about getting infected. It seemed like it gave us an extra edge in Georgia. But that’s more your area.”

  His lips curled into a smirk. Remembering some recent exploit of his own, tangling with outside survivors, I’d bet. I wandered off toward the kitchen as if it didn’t matter much to me either way. As I reached the doorway, Nate turned to Janelle.

  “We’ll start with our people. But I want to hear if there’s anyone you think should be left hanging a little while to consider their options.”

  “Sure thing,” she said, and ducked out. I exhaled and kept walking.

  Within an hour we had a crowd of thirty or so in the common room. The two doctors Janelle had mentioned were among them, laying out the equipment they had on hand—syringes and liquid antiseptic and the like—on a table near the entry hall. The crowd was mostly focused on that, muttering to each other and stirring restlessly.

  “Listen up,” Nathan said at the head of the room, spreading his arms wide like a stage magician. “We’ve got the most valuable merchandise currently in existence, and we need to price it accordingly. When you’re making the rounds, I want you passing on word that the vaccine is available to anyone able to buy it—but supplies are limited, so they’d better get here fast and with a generous spirit.” He grinned. “Michael said he sent on a list of acceptable payments?”

  Janelle nodded and held up a paper with scrawled notations.

  “Good,” Nathan said. “On top of that, as our starting point, I expect anyone who wants that vaccine to give over either two gallons of gasoline or diesel, or a working gun, or a box of ammunition. Gas or gun, or they don’t get the shot.”

  Janelle frowned, and a guy named Tyler, who’d been working in the radio room, stepped forward.

  “Michael didn’t say anything about that,” he said. “We’ve already been spreading the word—people are crazy for the vaccine—it could get uglier than it needs to if we tell them they’ve got to give even more.”

  “I’m glad you brought that up,” Nathan said, still smiling. Then with a flick of his wrist, his switchblade was open in his hand, arcing out to slash across Tyler’s face. Tyler flinched, too slow to avoid it. He stumbled back, clutching his chin, a few drops of blood seeping from beneath his fingers to patter onto the floor.

  “You can listen to Michael, who’s hundreds of miles away, or you can listen to the guy who’s right in front of you, who can do that or worse if he wants,” Nathan said. He held the knife casually, waggling the handle. “I decide what needs to happen. And I think I’m deciding that your vaccination can be put off a few days.” He glanced around the room. “Any more complaints?”

  Tyler’s face clenched, as if he was considering taking a lunge at Nathan, but his gaze seemed to catch on the light glinting off the blade. Janelle had straightened up, her frown deepened, but she didn’t speak either. Everyone just eyed Nathan warily. Violence was a power everyone here understood.

  What he’d just said, it sounded too much like what I’d said to him in the car—the comment he’d bitten my head off over. Had I given him that idea? That wasn’t the direction I’d meant to push him in.

  No, the way he’d been talking even before then, he’d planned to assert his authority from the start. I had a lot of work ahead of me.

  Janelle cleared her throat. “There’s something else we need to talk about,” she said. “A group of locals has set up their own little outfit, gathering supplies, policing the neighborhood they’re settled in. We had an issue with them early on, but after we showed how easily we could massacre them, the ones we didn’t cut down have been kowtowing. Michael told us to let them keep on like that as long as they didn’t make another move on us—we’ve been able to use them a few times when we’ve needed something big done. They’ve been angling for priority on the vaccine.”

  Nathan guffawed. “And give our competition a step up? We’d be better off if the virus got them. They can get in line with everyone else—and I want them paying double.”

  Janelle’s eyebrows rose. Nathan flicked his switchblade in and out of its handle. “Is there a problem with that?” he inquired when she didn’t immediately speak. “Your people here can keep this outfit under control, can’t they? I expected a solid operation here.”

  “We can handle them just fine,” Janelle said, but when he turned away, she glowered at him.

  So we had another group of thugs who’d be looking to take out their frustrations on us. That was just great. And if the truce fell apart, Michael wasn’t going to restrict blame to Nathan.

  I could at least make sure we were solid here. “I guess we should get everyone started on their shots so they can get to work,” I said to Nathan, trying to sound as if I was supporting him, not directing.

  “Sure, sure,” Nathan said. “Get yourselves inoculated and then get on it. You have your marching orders.” He pointed to Tyler. “Except you. Let’s see how I feel about your ‘performance’ by tomorrow.”

  He spun on his heel and strode out of the room.

  Our payments started arriving later that morning: dry and canned food, basic medications, electronics we could still make use of, and of course the gas and the guns. Nathan prowled the common room as people trickled in through the entry hall. He wanted the extra fuel and weaponry set aside so he could stow them elsewhere.

  “Where do you think you’re going with that?” he barked at a Warden who looked younger than Kaelyn, who’d been carting a couple jugs of diesel through the common room.

  “Putting the stuff away,” the girl said, looking puzzled.

  Nathan reached out and grasped a hunk of her hair, twisting it with a yank until she cried out. “Next time you screw up it’s coming right out,” he said, drawing his arm back and wiping his hand on his jacket. He pointed to the room that held his personal stash. “That ‘stuff’ goes over there.”

  No one else said anything as the girl hustled off, but the tension in the air made the hair on the back of my neck rise.

  He sent me off on the second day with a personal assignment: “You lived here,” he said. “Find me a secure storage space.”

  I thought it’d be a relief to leave the fire station for a while. But leaving, I had to pass the stragglers lingering outside, empty-handed or with bundles of goods deemed not quite enough payment to be accepted. An old man was sitting in the courtyard sobbing. A mother was trying to corral her two scrawny little kids while begging everyone who approached to spare something for her so she could pay for their shots. “Please,” she said, extending her hand to me, and I automatically shook my head and muttered, “Sorry.” The moment squeezed around my gut like a clenched fist as I walked on.

  I’d spent most of my teens exploring these streets in the five years Dad’s job had transplanted us here. Weaving through them now stirred up memories of a person I’d let myself forget. I’d rallied in this square with hundreds of other protesters, shouting and brandishing my poster board. I’d stood by this statue wheedling passersby into signing a petition. Mom used to say that I’d always been a crusader—even when the only injustice I was trying to defeat was the fact that Kaelyn had gotten a slightly bigger piece of my fifth birthday cake, a story she’d never gotten tired of telling—but it was in this city that I’d really woken up to the world beyond the island. To what sort of people I wanted to kiss and date, and how many other people had a problem with that. To the privilege allotted to me because I could be mistaken for a white guy with a dark tan, and how many walls could go up when I wasn’t.

  I had ranted and raged, and looking back I had the feeling I’d been an exceptionally difficult kid to live with. But it had been important. I’d wanted to set things right.

  Now I was nineteen, not a kid anymore, and I wasn’t sure where that kid had gone. Zack had encouraged me to keep my head down, with no idea I used to be the kind of guy who’d call out people who just looked the other way.

  I
t wasn’t that world anymore. I was still trying to set things right, I just... couldn’t approach it the same way. Taking a stand on my own would have gotten me killed. I’d needed a platform to work from, and I’d gotten myself one by insinuating myself with Michael—as far as that had taken me. I’d saved Kaelyn’s life more than once, helped her get the vaccine to the CDC.

  But even Michael didn’t like the way we were running things, apparently, and looking around me, I could understand it. Most of the people we were ruling over didn’t need brutality to keep them in line. They were already crushed. The Wardens could ease back—we could be guardians here instead of tyrants, earning respect instead of spreading fear, without losing one bit of the hold we’d gained. We could be helping rebuild this city instead of terrorizing it.

  I could imagine that, but I couldn’t imagine how to maneuver Nathan into going for it. I did know the person I’d used to be wouldn’t have been content to slowly nudge the situation in that direction from behind the scenes. That kid would have been furious at the way Nathan was exploiting the survivors who needed the vaccine, at the suffering the Wardens were prolonging right outside the walls of the building that kept me secure, not pretending to be okay with it.

  Maybe I was furious, under that twist of guilt. Maybe I’d just gotten too good at stifling any emotions I’d have to hide. The fire I’d used to have was in there somewhere.

  I wanted it back.

  I returned to the station with Nathan’s assignment accomplished and my own wires in better order. Enough tiptoeing around. It was time to push Nate harder.

  “I think you’ll approve,” I said to him when we arrived at the place I’d picked out: what had once been a clothing shop just a few blocks from the station. The building was an older construction, boards and nails instead of bars and concrete, but sturdy. The idea that his stash wouldn’t be totally inaccessible had given me a particle of reassurance.

  I pointed to the front windows. “Those shutters are steel, so no one’s going to break in that way. And both the front door and the delivery entrance at the back are reinforced. You can drop things off around back without anyone on the street noticing, so chances are good no one’s even going to realize there’s any point in trying to break in.” I motioned to the FOR RENT sign. “The business must have gone under before the flu—their inventory’s cleared out, so there’s plenty of room.”