Greeting familiar faces as he ambled toward the RV was like walking past the neighbor's yard. New Haven gave him the first glimmer of something he'd not felt in almost two years in North Jackson.
A place that felt like home.
Under threat of being stabbed by Gabrielle—and while she joked, she was also kind of scary—Kell stayed off his feet for the next three days except to check in at the clinic. The first day he enjoyed himself, fine tuning his notes and zoning out for hours at a time as he worked on expanding his ideas. By the second day he was restless; living in a house with no protective wall, then traveling under constant threat had set his throttle to full. Being a couch potato no longer suited.
Day three involved paper airplanes and a rigorous study of their engineering.
On day four he was given the all-clear to walk, but not run. Laura joined him on a walk to the management building, where they were supposed to have a series of meetings. New Haven never ran out of work, and there was a full-time staff dedicated to schedules, work crews, and finding the right person for each job. Sometimes several jobs.
That first meeting was over quickly; the interviewer asked each of them a dozen questions and marked the appropriate boxes on a form. Kell laughed at that, which according to the woman taking his information wasn't an uncommon reaction. Along with the Spanish Inquisition, no one expects bureaucracy after the world ends.
The second meeting was with Will Price himself, governor of New Haven and basically the boss. Kate had gathered information and shared it with the rest of the class as usual. Will answered to a council, and had an interesting and troubled history within the community.
Having been nearly murdered by one of the leadership at North Jackson—Kell had no fond memories of Phillip or his knife—he was understandably nervous about sitting in front of the big man's desk. Still, if there was a group out there causing trouble, Kell would pass on everything he knew. A small tingle of guilt chased its tail in his head for a moment at the thought. After all, if they hadn't stolen the SUV and invited the wrath of whoever backed Grim and his hunters, the attack wouldn't have happened and Andrea and the others wouldn't have been hurt. The idea that he'd brought additional scrutiny down on New Haven chafed as well.
Behind all of it, a quivering anxiety was building. Kell found himself weary at the idea of having to start over again if New Haven didn't work out. That tiny bud of hope was fed by observation; the place was well-run, the people possessed of a community spirit he hadn't seen since before The Fall. In short, he was getting his hopes up. People here acted like...well, people. Human beings with hard jobs and hard lives, who still found it in themselves to be decent even if some of them were suspicious of the new guys.
The woman in charge of agriculture had somehow discovered his profound love of pickles and brought him a jar she'd made herself. If nothing else gave him hope, that did.
An assistant led them through the complex arrangement of repurposed shipping containers, up two flights of steps, and to a heavy door cut in the side of one of the heavy steel boxes. It was a clever use of space, the tops of each container acting as a walkway between the stacks. Here and there heavy supports reinforced the whole thing, along with armor plating in key areas. The outside of Will's office, twenty feet above the ground, was densely layered in armor. It looked like it could take a tank round.
A trill of worry rolled through his stomach as they stepped through the door. The memory of Philip in his office, clear desk, clean surfaces gleaming, the sense of deliberate intimidation, rushed through him.
Will's office couldn't have been more different if he had tried. This was clearly the work space of a man deeply involved with the community he oversaw. Piles of paperwork neatly stacked in folders littered the cramped space. The small desk was covered in active work, half a dozen files spread out. Cabinets lined the walls, Will rifling through several with his back toward them.
Laura cleared her throat, causing Will to spin his chair toward them.
He was surprisingly young, though the stress of leadership had given him a few gray hairs years ahead of schedule. His face had the same weather-beaten look most of the locals carried, skin tan even from the faded light of the dying winter season. Otherwise he was an average-looking man with intelligent blue eyes.
“You must be Laura,” he said, shaking her hand. “And you like to be called K, is that correct?”
Will's eyes lingered on him for a few seconds. “Uh, yes. Kevin, but everyone calls me K. Or Big K, either is fine.”
The man responsible for hundreds of lives flashed a sunny smile and went back to rooting through his file cabinets, this time unlocking the one on the wall behind his chair.
“I'm sure Kate told you why I wanted to meet you,” Will said over his shoulder as he searched through files. “It's vitally important we don't spread word about these people. The council thinks they're two separate groups, but we don't want the word to spread we know about them. Either of them, if the council is right.”
“What makes you think they're one group?” Laura asked. “Pretty different ways of doing things.”
Will paused in his search, nodding. “Yes, that's true. One group sends out small hunting and gathering parties, and has others man transports to move the goods. They stay under the radar as much as possible, and avoid conflict.” Leaning back over the open file drawer, he continued. “The other...well, they hit a community and kill everyone in it. No slavery, like marauders. No rapes that we know of. They come in, kill everyone, and take everything. Thank god they seem to have stopped after two attacks, but they were enough. Scary good at what they do.”
Will smiled, rotating back to face them. He tossed a file on the desk and leaned back in his chair. “I think they're one in the same. The first group are civilians with a few military people leading them, if I'm right. The second are mostly military. And that pisses me off. I was a soldier. That's not what you do to your own people.” Will leaned forward, elbows on the thick coating of papers. “They're both after resources. Food, mostly. Both use a tremendous amount of fuel getting here and there. Neither have come into contact with the other from what we can tell. We've encountered both groups at one point or another, so it stands to reason random chance would dictate they meet. Maybe they have and our scouts haven't caught it, but reports tell me neither group comes within fifty miles of each other. Which suggests cooperation if not separate heads of the same beast.”
Kell nodded appreciatively. “Nicely reasoned.”
Will bowed his head. “Thank you. Now, please. Regale me with your own experience with these people. Every bit helps us build a better idea of who we might have to fight if they show up again.”
The telling didn't take long, and would have been even shorter had Will not asked questions occasionally. He showed no surprise, though he did laugh when Kell got to the part where he and Andrea had stolen the SUV.
“Nothing we didn't already know,” Will said when they finished. “Not that it's unhelpful; independent corroboration never hurts.” He looked pensive for several seconds, suddenly a thousand miles away. “I'm a little torn here,” Will admitted. “I need to put the nail in the coffin of whether or not this really is one large group of people. If it comes to fighting, we need the most accurate information possible. Problem is, so few people even know about these folks, my pool of scouts is limited.”
The question was obvious. Laura absently scratched at the bandage on her scalp, stuck to the spot they'd shaved around the wound. “I'll go. K should stay here. He won't be much good on that foot.”
Kell frowned. “I can manage, Laura.”
Will raised a hand. “You misunderstand me. I'm not worried about sending you out injured. Any team we send out won't go for at least a week. That should give you time to heal up enough to function,” he said. “My concern is more about what risks we should take to gather information. After all, we won't get much from going back to where you were attacked. This will be much farther from hom
e, and much more dangerous.”
“I don't understand,” Kell said. “We've done this kind of work before. Yeah, it's a risk, but don't you think it's worth the effort to learn what you're—we're, I should say—up against?”
Will gave him an appraising look, grabbing the file from the cabinet as he leaned back in his chair. He opened it like a book, eyes scanning over the pages. “Yes. And we'll need all of you to have a shot at it. Long trips are murder. My larger worry is whether you should go.”
“Me?” Kell said. “I can already use my foot. In a week--”
Will waved him away, throwing the open file on the desk. “I don't think it's worth risking your life, Doctor McDonald.”
Kell tensed, freezing as he tried unsuccessfully to control the reaction. Laura flashed into motion, drawing her knife and stepping into a fighter's crouch. Will shot to his feet as well, knocking his chair over backward.
“Laura, what--” Kell sputtered, his brain unable to keep up.
“How long have you known?” Laura said, her voice hard and cold as iron. “What kind of game are you playing here?”
Will looked remarkably calm for a man half an inch from messy death, and his voice matched his manner. “Look at that file. I didn't know who he was until I found it. Not for sure. When you came in I thought he looked familiar.”
Kell leaned forward, spinning the file around. There was a picture of him—his old staff ID picture from the lab—as well as a short dossier labeled with Department of Defense heading. A quick scan sent his heart racing. Anyone who found these papers would know who he was and exactly what his role in the plague had been.
“I was a soldier in Richmond, about an hour from here,” Will said. “In the first few days of the outbreak, we were given a picture of you. They told us to bring you in at all costs, that we had to find you and keep you alive. When everything turned into shit, I broke into the CO's office. He was killed when the first waves of dead rose here in Kentucky. I found that in his desk.”
“So you just held onto it until you came here?” Laura spat. “Bullshit. I heard you got rescued from a crashed helicopter. You just happened to have this on you?”
Will snorted. “Hell no, do you think I'm an idiot? I locked this up and went back for it much later. The wrong person read it, and it would be a death sentence for the good doctor.”
“Laura,” Kell said. “Please put that away. You aren't going to kill the guy.”
“Kell, come on! He knows who you are.”
He stood and walked to her, gently placing a hand on her wrist to push the knife down. “I get the reaction, but he's not Phillip. But think about it, please. Some people out there might want to kill me for my part in the plague. Stabbing him will make sure everyone here actually will string us up.”
Breathing hard through her nostrils but looking somewhat embarrassed, Laura sheathed her knife. Will smiled wryly at her before righting his chair. “Don't be so sure about that last part,” he said. “I'm not as popular around here as you might think.”
Kell, back in his seat, cocked his head. “Oh? Why's that?”
Will shrugged. “You'll find out anyway, it's no secret. This is the second time I've been in charge. The first time I gave this place up to the soldiers I used to serve with in Richmond.”
Kell recoiled. “Jesus, why would you do that?”
Picking papers up off the floor knocked askew as he had bumped the desk, Will sighed. “Not a lot of choice. They were coming, we didn't stand a chance, and to save the most lives possible, I sold us out. Spent a long time as a convict here after it was all said and done.”
Standing next to Kell, Laura asked, “Why did they put you in charge again?”
“That's a long story,” Will replied. “We've got a guy who keeps a good record of that kind of thing, you should hear it from him. Shorter version is, I did my time and a few good deeds, and the people here thought I learned my lesson. Not that everyone is thrilled about it, but enough voters think I'm competent that I get the big chair.”
The room was still tense, but it was the strained polite atmosphere of people who were trying very hard to maintain civility. Laura had acted like Kate, who was rash and defensive enough for any three people. Kell hadn't reacted at all, which was a new and disturbing development. Will should have been upset, or showing some kind of reaction. Instead he casually tidied his desk. It was the sort of self-control that hinted at a psyche either abnormally solid, or, to quote Leonard Hofstadter, one lab accident away from being a super-villain.
Judging by the amused smile on Will's face, Kell thought he could discount any nefarious plans.
“As I was saying, I don't know if it's a good idea to send Kell—”
“Please,” Kell interrupted. “Use my assumed name or just call me K. It's safer.”
Will nodded. “K, then. It's a bad idea to send you out. As leader here, it would obviously be better for all of us to have you working on ways to mitigate the plague. Too risky to lose what you might be able to contribute. On a personal level, well, you're a human being and you're hurt. I don't like sending anyone out if they're less than a hundred percent.”
Laura frowned. “You don't plan on telling anyone who he is?”
Will laughed and rubbed at his neck. “I think that's clear, especially considering the consequences.” Laura blushed, red from the base of her neck to the roots of her hair. “Let's try talking instead of skipping right to knives next time, okay?”
“Sorry,” Laura said. “I just...reacted.”
Will raised his hands in a 'what are you gonna do?' gesture. “World today has us trained to take out threats. You didn't kill me—thanks for that, by the way—and honestly I've suffered much worse from the people I was elected by. Don't worry about it.”
“So long as you're sure,” Kell said. “We have a history of problems with petty administrators.”
“I'm sure,” he said. “Truth is, my heart's beating like it's going to pop out of my chest, but fear is a daily part of life. And really, as you're the man who has a chance to stop this goddamn plague, and I desperately want you to, how does getting a knife pulled on me even matter?” He took a deep breath, seeming to weigh his next words. “You have no idea how difficult it is, doing this job. It would be a thousand times easier without all the dead people of the world trying to eat us, so I can't afford to shout 'seize them!' at the guards, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah,” Kell said.
“Good,” Will replied. “You understand why I don't want you leaving. You can have your own corner over there in the expansion, and we'll get you whatever you need to work on this. I'm sure you have ideas. We have electricity, most of the time. And we have people who can quietly secure things you might need.”
Kell considered that. “I've been thinking of ways I can fight Chimera—that's what the plague was called when it was my work—but to be honest with you it'll be slow going.”
Will leaned back, steepling his fingers. “Is there anything you could use to speed up the work? Something the scouts could be on the lookout for?”
“Not unless you know where the government took all my old lab notes and equipment,” Kell said.
Will tilted his head at the open file. “Look at the last page.”
Excitement flooded through Kell. “Really?”
Will nodded. “And we've sent scouts there before. The same three I was going to send you with.”
“No,” Kell said. “The same three you are sending with me.”
Eighteen
After a long day of hashing out details, the trip was set for two weeks later. Upon learning Kell's identity, Will Price became more interested in a potential cure than quickly gathering information about the enemy. His reasoning was simple; a cure was vastly more important, both for the obvious benefits it would provide and as a bargaining chip with any enemies.
Who would choose to fight when they might get a cure for the plague, after all?
Not that the trip would
be wasted as far as the scouts were concerned. The three women who would lead Kell and his chosen team to his research were to drop them off at the facility and then search for signs of the mysterious group.
In the meantime, Kell worked light duty jobs and healed. Every morning for the first week he visited Andrea. The kids had been forced out of the clinic after the first few days, but Kell found a place for them in the small enclave his people carved out for themselves. Michelle and Evan were careful not to speak his real name, and he enjoyed spending time with them.
He didn't have much of it. His mornings were spent on the Honey Wagon, which was as ironic as names got. The thing was an actual wagon pulled by two horses, though a backup—a pickup truck—was available if the horses were needed elsewhere. Every day at dawn he took the wagon around New Haven, gathering human waste in its giant vats. It was a necessary if unpleasant job, though aside from the smell he didn't mind. Others hated the work, but it gave him an opportunity to meet people. Laura and Kate occasionally joined him.
After so long with the three of them staying secretive, thick as thieves, it wasn't just good for them to meet people and socialize. It was a requirement. Staying here long term would mean interacting with human beings every day, and their skills were rusty.
The Sunday of the second week, Kell stopped the wagon in front of the blacksmith's house, which was also his place of work. The big man was already carrying a bucket through the front door as Kell rolled the cart to a close. A preteen girl behind him carried another, nose wrinkled in disgust.
“Good morning, Patrick,” Kell said. “How's the hand?”
Patrick, a man only a few inches short of Kell but barrel-chested and far more massive, raised the leather-capped stump, waving it cheerily. “Feels fine, wherever it is. Did you bring it?”
Kell nodded, grabbing the spear from the boards at his feet and handing it over. “It's aluminum. Think you'll be able to sharpen it back up?”
Patrick handed his bucket to the girl, who had just finished dumping her own. “Oh, come on Uncle Pat, I already dumped the bad one,” she said, her light brown skin going green.
The Fall (Book 2): Dead Will Rise Page 18