Seasons of Man | Book 2 | Reap What You Sow
Page 25
“Dr. Vance.” Lisa waved with a smile when the doors popped open. “Welcome back to the light.”
“Thank you.” The doctor shrugged, flashing a look towards Josh that was somewhere between hostility and fear. “I’m just glad it’s done.”
Lisa pointed at the cargo in the trucks. “All of it is . . .”
“Thoroughly infected,” Josh added confidently. “And correct me if I’m wrong, Doctor, but it will be for a couple of weeks even without susceptible hosts.”
“That’s correct, for at least two weeks, longer for items that don’t get exposed to direct sunlight.”
Lisa clapped her hands together once and beamed at Josh. “Listen to you. You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”
“I’ve learned a lot,” Josh admitted with a shrug.
“Is that true?” Lisa was magnanimous in her victory. Having forced Vance to do her bidding, she’d gotten what she wanted. Now it was all smiles and sunshine.
“I couldn’t have done it without him,” the doctor admitted, sounding as if she’d wanted to say “wouldn’t have.”
“So how do we do this?” he interjected. “As safely as possible.”
Dr. Vance pointed at the trucks. “Have the personnel come out and collect the gear themselves. No need to test fate and have any of our people handle it.”
“But it’s safe to us?” Lisa looked like she wanted to take a step back.
“It is,” the doctor replied. “We’ve both been exposed to it for ten days; we continue to test positive for the antibodies we had before we started the process, with no change. That said, there’s no reason to have anybody handle the infected gear who doesn’t have to.”
“OK then,” he said. “I’ll go let our Trojan horses know they are going to be released.”
“No, I want to do it,” Lisa said. “If this doesn’t work, we may have to bring some of them back into the fold at some point. You’ll just scare them.”
Dr. Vance turned to look back at the campus. “If it’s alright, I’d like to go and get back to my office, and maybe take a long shower.”
“Of course, Doctor,” Lisa allowed with an understanding smile. “I know how difficult this was for you, for all of us. Our volunteers know you from their medical check; they shouldn’t see you here at any rate.”
“I’ll drive you back,” Josh offered.
“No!” Vance turned on her minder. “Sorry, I think I’d just like to walk.”
The three of them watched Dr. Vance go until she passed through the cordon of armed guards on her way back to the main campus.
“Not a happy camper.” Josh shook his head.
“That can’t be helped.” Lisa nodded in agreement. “You’re certain she did this right?”
“As much as I can be, yes.” Josh shrugged. “I’m not a scientist or a doctor, but I know people. She feels guilty as hell. I’m pretty sure she was disappointed that the virus hadn’t mutated and we weren’t going to get sick. Me . . .? Not so much.”
“I’m not going to forget what you did for us, Josh.” Lisa’s praise was so natural, so genuine, Stevens recognized it for the true superpower it was. He’d been the recipient himself many times before. Witnessing it deployed against someone else was almost disconcerting. He recovered and held a hand out to Josh.
“Nor will I, Josh. They used to give medals for this sort of thing. You risked everything, son.”
“Saving lives, right?” Josh asked. “That’s why I did this; the doc too. If it’s not a problem, I’d just as soon nobody know it was us who did this. For the doctor’s sake as much as mine.”
*
Michael Anthony wasn’t going to believe anything that came out of Lisa Cooper’s mouth, not after spending three weeks as a prisoner, sleeping in a tent on the thirty-yard line inside Scott Stadium. Listening to the unending loop of her recorded message of solidarity and a new beginning had been heaping insult on injury. But their release and outfitting with food and supplies had been real enough. He wasn’t going to stand around waiting for the assholes to change their minds.
They’d been walking east for two hours, he and a group of thirty-two others that included two young children being pushed in strollers. The majority of those released from the stadium were from Roanoke and had gone west when they’d hit I-64 as a group. He was headed to Williamsburg, along with a few others who had been taken with him in Richmond. Their ragtag group looked like the stream of refugees it was, and it was a much smaller group than it should have been. Most of those scooped up in Richmond had lasted a week or so in the stadium, before they’d given in and sworn the oath of loyalty that their jailors had wanted from them.
He’d almost caved himself, and had started to wonder why he was holding out. Beyond the confinement and the mental wear and tear of having to listen to the same recorded message twelve times a day, they hadn’t been mistreated. Frequent visits by former prisoners reinforced the story that people were being treated well upon release.
This morning, Lisa Cooper herself had come into the stadium and made an announcement that everyone was free to go. “We’d like you to stay and see what we have to offer. If you still want to leave, we’ll set you up with supplies and send you on your way. Please know that you are always welcome to return. We will never turn away anyone.” It had been a nice speech to put the cap on a mass abduction and internment, but he’d been moving towards the gate before she was done speaking.
Kim Dawes, walking next to him, turned around and walked backwards towards the interchange over Black Cat Road for several steps before resuming forward.
“Nobody seems to be following us?” She didn’t add the “yet.” Kim had checked behind them every few minutes since they’d made it past the manned roadblock east of Charlottesville.
“I figure if they wanted to off us, they wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble.” He patted the hunting rifle on his shoulder. At the roadblock, they’d given him a single box of twenty rounds and a 30.06 rifle. Half a dozen others had been given hunting rifles or shotguns. They weren’t going to be able to put up anything but a pretense at defense if they needed to, but it was something.
“Whatever,” Kim almost spit. Kim had been one of the defenders of Richmond who had been lined up next to him, in front of a firing squad on the riverfront. “It just feels weird is all I’m saying.”
*
“This is new . . .” Poy was watching the refugee group tramp down the middle of the eastbound lane on his laptop. A few minutes ago, he’d thought the drone had been spotted, and he’d taken it up another thousand feet. From the current altitude and with the angle of the sun’s shadows cast on the smooth roadway, the group looked like a strange herd of colored cows.
“It’s certainly unexpected.” The colonel never seemed to get excited. “Why release their prisoners, why now?”
Poy had learned to take his cues from Skirjanek, and one thing he’d discovered early on was that Skirjanek liked to talk to himself and bounce around ideas. He also liked to teach. The man had gone on for an hour a week ago, about siege warfare during medieval times, and how there were countless conflicts in the distant past that could inform their present situation.
“Maybe they just don’t want the mouths to feed, sir. We going to let them off-load refugees on us?”
The colonel nodded once and smiled at him. “So, you were listening?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve always liked history, never thought we’d be reliving it, but I always thought the olden days were kind of cool. You know, except for the whole no-penicillin-or-Internet thing.”
“I can think of a lot of scenarios where your thinking would be correct, but the mass grave they have behind the golf course argues against a humanitarian approach. So yes, I’d say they are looking to weigh us down or gather intel. Probably both.”
“What are we going to do?”
The colonel was silent for a long moment, watching the group grow closer with each step. “I think we’ll take
the bait.”
“Sir?”
“We’ll learn something as well, Mr. Park. Besides, these people were prisoners this morning; we might even get a few recruits out of this. If not, we’ll see them on their way. Least we can do is feed them when they pass through.”
Poy wiped the sweat from his brow. The skies were clear, and it was going to be a hot day. “Sir, before I climbed the drone, I was pretty sure I saw some kids and even a couple of baby strollers. It’s gotta be pretty shitty on top of that road. I mean . . .”
Skirjanek dropped a fist on his shoulder. “That’s good thinking, Mr. Park. You’re right, we’ll go to them, offer some transport.”
“You’re fighting them?” Kim asked the guy calling himself Colonel and then looked at him in expectation. “Where do we sign up?”
Kim’s enthusiasm aside, Michael didn’t know what to think. They’d been trudging along, the threat they were leaving growing more distant with every step, when they’d crested a rise in the freeway and come face-to-face with a bunch of well-armed soldiers, blocking the road and holding a white flag. He did the only thing he had a mind to and stood there, wondering if they’d escaped the frying pan and jumped into the fire. Some of the group had taken off running, either back the way they’d come or into the woods off the freeway. Most had stopped after about a hundred yards and were just watching to see what was going to happen.
“One thing at a time.” The Skirjanek guy held up a hand and then pointed skyward. “We saw you get released this morning with our drone and have been tracking you. They aren’t pursuing you. We’re trying to figure out what Cooper’s angle is and thought in the meantime we could get you off the road in this heat and see what you know. That is, if you’re willing to share.”
“We don’t know what’s going on either.” Michael shrugged. “It was like they just gave up on converting us and let us go. There’s a much bigger group of us that headed west. Cooper was all smiles, acting like it was no harm, no foul; said we be welcomed back if we changed our minds.”
“Fat chance,” Kim said. She’d stood with him in the middle of the freeway when the others had run. If she wanted to sign up with these people, IF they were taking volunteers, he’d probably do the same. Kim had been the only thing in his life worth hanging on to for the last six months. He could see others starting to filter back out of the woods. “They attacked us, took us prisoner, and the bitch has the stones to tell us they’d welcome us back? As if!”
The colonel nodded in understanding at Kim’s outburst and then turned back to face him. “That’s all for you people to decide. For now, if you can corral your people up, we’ll get you down the road a bit. We might be able to provide some transport for you and your people, help get you to where you were headed, within reason.”
“Why are you doing this?” He’d asked the question before he’d realized he was speaking.
“No reason, beyond the fact you people have had a rough time and could use a break. That, and I still want to know why they released you. It’s far outside what we’ve come to expect of them.”
“For us too,” he answered. “If I knew anything, I’d tell you.”
Skirjanek believed Michael, and the half dozen others he’d had a chance to talk to since getting them all back to Zion Crossroads. Which wasn’t as helpful as it should have been; none of them could add anything of use. Trapped inside a football stadium for almost a month since they’d been rounded up in Richmond, they were completely in the dark as to what had been happening around them. They’d taken the explosions they’d heard two weeks past as nothing more than training exercises.
The enthusiasm that some of them had shown for signing up wasn’t anywhere close to universal. Most of these people just wanted to be left alone and were ready to continue their journey eastward, with or without any help. As much as he wanted to take the half dozen gung-ho members of the group at their word, he knew he couldn’t. A quick discussion with Pavel and John reinforced his thinking.
“We’ve discussed your situation,” he began as he walked up to where the group had been given an opportunity to take a load off their feet. Most were sprawled out on the ground after eating the meal they had provided; some were resting in lawn chairs. Those who were armed were alert, almost as if they could sense the hidden rifles he had covering them. “And we’re going to get you to wherever you want to go, or at least give you gas for the trip. Vehicles we have plenty of.”
“You don’t want our help?” The woman, Kim, wanted payback, or at least that was the way she was playing it.
“Want . . . and can use,” he began, “are two different things. I hope you can understand that. If you’re willing, you can tell us where you’re headed, and we’ll reach out to you after we’ve settled this. If not, that’s fine too. Either way, we’ll set you up with some real weapons. What you’ve got may feed you, but you’ll need more, and we’ll provide it.”
“Sounds more than fair,” their leader, Michael, agreed after a moment. “And you’re right, it makes sense. Before they attacked Richmond, they managed to get their people inside our groups. Road people.” Michael looked at Kim and gave one shoulder a shrug. “People like us.”
“But we’re not . . .” the woman began and then stopped herself, deflating. “You’re right.”
“I wish the situation were different,” he said. “I really do. Thank you for understanding.”
The next morning, they had gassed up a dozen civilian vehicles from a car dealership a mile up the road. The refugees were in good spirits; the unexpected assistance and their rediscovered freedom had most of them hugging their benefactors. Kim gave him a big hug and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you!”
Michael’s car was the last to depart, and the man shook his hand. “Most of us are going to Williamsburg, the colonial town. We figure all the reenactment stuff might come in handy if it hasn’t been looted. Sooner or later, we’re all going to need to get back to basics.”
“That’s good thinking. We’ll try to buy you a little security.” He handed over a radio and two spare batteries. “Today’s a Tuesday, in case you were wondering, July thirteenth. Monitor this thing every Sunday at noon for an hour to conserve your batteries. If we resolve this situation here, we’ll give you a call. We’re in contact with another, larger group up north that just wants to be left alone as well. Like-minded people need to stay in touch. I seriously doubt if Charlottesville is the last group we’ll see with delusions of grandeur.”
Michael hefted the radio in thanks and got in behind the wheel of the pickup. “July thirteenth?”
“Yes.”
“Did you all do anything special for the Fourth?”
“We tried; we were more than a little busy. We raised a few drinks in remembrance. Maybe next year, we’ll have time for something more.”
“Colonel, I don’t know what to make of this.” Michael waved a folded-up slip of paper at him. “I found this in the bottom of my sleeping bag last night. I wasn’t the only one. There was a bunch of them inside our bags, inside the MRE cartons. I had half a dozen people handing me the damn things this morning. Somehow, I don’t think it was meant for us.”
He read the message and could feel his eyebrows furrow in confusion.
“Doesn’t make sense to you either?”
He read the message again.
Do not believe what you are told. I take my oath seriously. – Dr. Naomi Vance
“Can’t say that it does. Do you know this Dr. Vance?”
Michael shook his head. “Maybe, there was a doctor. A real one. We weren’t given her name.”
He waved the paper. “Thank you for this. I think.”
Michael nodded. “Please keep us in mind, and good luck to you.”
“Will do.” He shook the man’s hand again through the open window.
Watching them drive off, he felt better than he had since his trip to Northern Virginia, where he’d seen people trying to build a future. Given half a chance, mo
st people were basically good. Without that chance, he knew better than most how ugly they could be.
Chapter 25
“Colonel! Sir.” Elliot slid to a stop in the gravel of the landscaping company’s parking lot. “Poy’s drone is watching them fuel their Black Hawk. They’ve got a big crowd gathered watching. He thinks they are getting ready to fly.”
That answered one question, he thought; they had a pilot. “Thank you, Mr. Elliot. Your radio, please.”
“Gypsy One for all units, retrans for all units—enemy is going airborne. Get everything and everyone undercover like we’ve planned. Patrol teams, report any sighting of enemy air, but do not engage.” Between the car dealership, a fire station, the Dept. of Transportation equipment sheds, and the Walmart supercenter, they had all their vehicles under a roof, and the personnel all knew where to hide so that they’d be in a position to protect their critical gear.
He listened to the callbacks, satisfied that the message was getting out to everyone. He handed Elliot his radio back. “Sergeant Salguero is out with Major Volkov, correct?”
“Yes, sir. They are set up on the north side of town again.”
“No worries, Mr. Elliot. I assume you are familiar with the firing of a Stinger anti-aircraft missile?”
“Uhh . . . yes, sir. I’ve seen one demonstrated, sir.”
“You’ll do fine, Corporal.” He pointed at the D.O.T. maintenance garage across the highway from them. “Go grab a Stinger case from the armory and meet at the firehouse.”
“Yes, sir! Right away, sir!”
*
“This is insane,” Tim Calhoun muttered to himself, or so he thought.
“What’s your problem?” Scott Mackey had been one of General Marks’s ROTC students at Virginia Tech, one of only two who had survived the virus. As such, the little punk thought his shit didn’t stink. Calhoun was fairly certain the general agreed. “You’re a pilot. This is a helicopter.”