Whatever waited for him at the other end of that Bore, he knew it would not touch how he felt about Wren Wood. He’d trade his life for one day with Wren, and he was wasting a week?
He sprang up, turned to run after her and stopped short.
She was still here. She hadn’t run away.
He reached out to her. “Wren,” he managed, his voice rough with emotion.
“One week,” she whispered.
“One week,” he replied.
She stepped out of the shadows and into his arms.
36
FREELAND
It took six more days of traveling to reach their destination, six more days of finding and picking up strays, expanding their number to over six hundred souls seeking a new beginning. There were no attacks now, they’d left all that behind them in the north.
These six days were incredibly busy, with Mattea, Coru, Doug, Tony, and Millman working around the clock to keep their caravan fed, moving forward, leaving no one behind. The people were getting both excited and scared, looking around each turn of the highway, and ahead with eagerness and trepidation. Would they be welcome? Was there sanctuary for all? Was this the new start they’d hoped for?
Every time Wren looked up, it seemed she was seeing Coru in a different place. How could one man be everywhere at once? He was exhausted every night when they met up after Deklin was in his sleeping bag along with most of the camp. They’d hold hands, walk together and talk of everything and nothing, just as long as they were together, connected. They compared childhoods, talked about their teen idols, their favorite music, concerts they’d attended, favorite ice cream flavors, what kind of student they’d been in school, their first crush, their first kiss, their first vehicle, getting their driver’s license, how they felt about the environment, how they felt about dogs, what they’d name their next dog, how they liked their eggs.
They never talked of the future.
Wren lived for their nightly walks, stuffing every word Coru spoke to her away in her memory, to be taken out and examined, and relived when she was alone again. She memorized his every action, his every touch.
They never kissed. Coru was firm on that point. Would not budge, no matter how brazen she behaved, and some nights, she was pretty damned out there, but he never caved. Finally, she accepted that this was the one door he would not open with her, and found comfort in just being with him. It would have to be enough.
Mattea was feeling his time with Coru coming to a close as well, she could see. She’d caught him twice now gazing at Coru when he thought no one could see, and the sorrow she saw in his eyes made her choke up. Mattea had saved Coru’s life the first day they’d met, and had considered him a brother ever since. Coru’s parting would be hard on Mattea.
She stared at Coru at times as well, she knew, drinking in his form, his face, the way he spoke to people, the way he focused on them completely when they spoke to him, his mannerisms. So often she didn’t even register the ruined side of his face. To her, Coru was perfect.
The terrain they were passing through now was changing, growing hilly, with sharp corners, with lots of deep green forests, the Kootenay Mountains rising up before them. All signs pointed they were going the right way. The road was in good shape, the trees recently groomed back on either side to prevent vehicle/animal collisions. Someone here was maintaining this stretch of highway. It had to be the Freelanders.
Then suddenly, there it was, miles ahead, a huge walled off barrier that disappeared into the forest on either side, with massive metal doors, trained cameras mounted all around.
Their arrival wouldn’t be a surprise.
As they approached the entrance of Freeland, they were overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the structure. Without a word, no preamble of any kind, the massive doors moved, parted and swung open. An invitation.
Wren was riding shotgun in Beastette with Coru. She glanced at him, suddenly apprehensive. They’d traveled far, and had fought hard to be here, but would Freeland deliver, or would it disappoint? Wren almost didn’t want to enter to find out, she was so afraid of disappointment, of learning there was no sanctuary, that the world they were living in now was as good as it would ever get.
Coru nodded his head at her, his eyes telling her to have faith.
They started through, Mattea with Doug, Tony with Millman and Coru with Wren each driving a tranny in the lead. Inside the gate was a huge planed flat area, covered in miles of blacktop, large enough to land a plane; land many planes. There were outbuildings on either side leaving the center free of obstruction. Their caravan of six hundred was tiny in relation to the landing area they now occupied. Beyond this area lay an underground enclave, built into the side of a mountain, with another set huge metal doors, these ones dwarfing the doors that had just opened for them in the wall. Security was everywhere.
People climbed out of their vehicles, off their horses, out of their campers and looked around, their faces dazed.
A voice spoke from somewhere overhead. “Welcome to Freeland. Please place your weapons on the red circle in the middle of the compound, then step back.”
“How do we know you won’t attack us once we are unarmed?” Tony Antonelli asked, looking around, searching for the source of the voice. Wren knew he was too fresh from Prince George, from almost losing his son, to trust easily.
“You won’t. But, consider this, you came to us, we did not come to you. If you wish to leave Freeland, you are free to go. We will understand. But know you are welcome here. We need you, our country needs you.”
The Bear Lake Outlanders decision makers gathered in a tight circle — Mattea, Coru, Wren, Doug, Tony, Gayle, Millman, Gill, Dean, new-comers Delores and Chet, and the Hansen twins. It was a brief meeting. They knew they hadn’t come this far to turn back now.
They broke apart and called for all weapons to be placed in the red circle as requested. The Outlanders complied. It took close to half an hour to gather them all, but in the end, they were all there, in the circle, and not impressive, Wren realized. They’d made it this far with so little protection?
She also noted Coru had not laid down his taser. That he hid in his jacket, along with his tablet — the tablet that would take him back through the Time Bore, and his book of sketches. He shouldered the backpack containing her father’s tablets and the neatly recorded corrections Deklin had dictated and faced the doors.
Tony called out. “We’ve done what you asked. It’s all there.”
A moment past, then a sound could be heard, a subtle clunk and the red circle disengaged from the tarmac surface and slowly lowered, disappearing into the ground with all their weapons. After several moments, the circle rose, empty of weapons, re-engaged with the tarmac, blending in as if there were no opening at all.
They waited, looking around, wondering what came next. There was a distant sound from the huge doors. A small opening appeared in the bottom of the door to the left. This was a door as well, maybe the size of a double garage door in an average home, Wren thought. It made sense. Why open yourself up to all when there were only people at your door? Her brain skipped at once to wonder what they had that was so large they needed doors that big to accommodate it.
A man appeared in the doorway, followed by two more. They wore matching grey outfits, loose pants and jackets, black polished boots, sunglasses, and drove out in what looked like a tranny on steroids. The tranny rushed toward the Outlanders at a speed she could only dream of from the Beast or Beastette. As it grew closer, she could see the three men were smiling. She softened her stance at once, knowing these men were friend, not foe.
Everyone around her began to murmur amongst themselves, their tones hopeful, excited, relieved.
The men stopped the tranny, hopped out and strode forward, their hands extended in greeting. Welcome, welcome they all said, moving among the Outlanders, shaking hands.
“This is the biggest group we’ve ever received,” the man who seemed to be the leader told her. “
My name is Michael Grimes, and I’m the Newcomer Coordinator here at Freeland. This is Sadu Udan and Max Remy. Welcome, welcome. Who is the leader here?” He glanced around, his blue eyes bright with inquiry.
Coru stepped up. “That would be these three man, Tony Antonelli, Doug Prater and Oliver Millman. We all owe these men a huge debt for their leadership, their fortitude and far-seeing vision for everyone and anyone needing their assistance. You won’t find any finer than these three gentlemen.”
Tony shook his head. “Nobody did this alone. We all played an important role to getting here. Every man, woman and child struggled to arrive at your door, some lost their lives on the journey. We’re all hoping the stories are true, that you have a plan for a better future we can get behind. If you do, we’re here to see it gets done.”
Grimes, nodded, obviously pleased with Tony’s words. “You’re the kind of people who will build a better future for us all. Come, come with me, with us,” he nodded toward his companions. “You’ll want to wash, you’ll want clean clothes, maybe food, though you look well fed, and there are quarters inside for you all. They’re small, but they’re private and yours. Family stays together. Single units are tight, but still private. We can get into all the rest after you’ve been settled. It’s a lot to take in. I know when I first arrived back in January, my eyes rolled up into my head about halfway through my orientation. Now we do it in stages. Easier on everyone that way.”
Ollie Millman asked, “What about our trailers, our horses?”
“There’s room for them all. Bring them across. We’ll open the receiving doors and you can drive right in. The horses will be cared for first. They are valuable animals today — they get special care here in Freeland.”
Expressions of relief, surprise, and gratitude pinged around the gathering, then everyone hurried back to their rigs, started them up and followed Grimes’s vehicle. As they neared the entrance, another door opened, this as large as, say, a shop door, big enough for everyone to comfortably drive through with no worries about height or width.
The interior was cavernous, surprisingly light and warm, and was a bustling area, with lots going on. Everyone here, men and women alike wore the light gray jackets and pants they’d first seen the greeters wearing. Some had shed their jackets, revealing white t-shirts and dog-tags underneath. They weren’t ugly. Wren decided she could handle wearing them. There were metal staircases and glass elevators on either side of the space, some seeming to lead up several floors, to maybe offices or communications areas, she guessed, but most seeming to go down, further into the ground. The good thing was, it didn’t feel underground here. The light, the fresh air, the people’s faces told a story of productivity and ownership. These people had a purpose and were happy in that purpose.
Gayle shifted awkwardly to Wren’s side and whispered, “We’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.”
Wren rolled her eyes. “No kidding.”
It turned out their new living quarters, for now at least, were underground. They were bundled into groups, then bundled into elevators for their trip into the ground. These elevators were larger, and not made of glass but of polished metal, the new arrivals’ trip downward gliding so smoothly Wren barely felt it, though the level numbers sped on the panel past at a dizzying rate. They slowed at 300, stopped at 322.
She, Deklin, Coru and Mattea were grouped as a family, and were shown their quarters — Unit 22 on Level 322. Should be easy to remember. Deklin thought so. A rail-thin woman of around thirty-five approached them with a winning smile, a slender tablet, and an accompanying rolling cart filled with what looked to be an assortment of uniforms the Freelanders wore. “You’re my group, I see. I’m Amy. This is your space while you’re with us here in Freeland.”
She toured them around the minuscule area, which included beds that folded into the walls bunk-style, one generous drawer each, also built into the smooth metal walls, with enough space for a few sets of clothes and some personal belongings, a table with four chairs, and a slender wall panel where they could call up music, movies, and receive news and bulletins as they were broadcast. The bathroom facilities were down the hall and would be shared. Eating happened at the cafeteria.
She motioned toward the cart and told them to help themselves to three sets of clothes they felt would fit, all the while apologizing for the lack of square footage, but assuring them the mess hall, training areas, exercise rooms and entertainment rooms had plenty of space to socialize and to get to know their new members. Then she got down to business, recording their personal information, preferences and special needs, if any, in her tablet. Here, Coru gave her Titus Wisla as his name, using his middle name rather than his first, in light of the poster they’d learned of at Bear Lake. Just in case there was someone out there still interested in finding Coru Wisla. He still claimed to have come from L.A.. Amy didn’t question him.
“Here’s a map you can use to get around your first few days. It can be confusing until you get the knack of everything.”
Coru took the map she offered and asked, “Who runs this place?”
Amy looked at him blankly for a moment. Perhaps surprised he didn’t know? Perhaps surprised he asked the question? Perhaps because she had no answer? Damn! Wren so badly needed to be able to read this woman’s mind; she felt like punching something! Now, when it was so important they know what was really going on, she had no power to find out!
Amy asked lightly, “Why is it important?”
“I would like to meet her, or him?” Coru answered, adding a persuasive smile.
She softened then. “You have only just arrived. I’m sure you understand strangers we have just met do not have access to the man — yes, it is a man — who makes the important decisions here at Freeland.”
“When can I see him? How long do I wait?”
She raised her eyebrows at his boldness and slid her eyes away, her opinion regarding his aggressive insistence plainly evident. When she met his eyes again, hers were cool. “You may put in a request.”
“With whom?”
“Me.”
“How long.”
She pressed her lips into a thin line. “Mister…” she glanced down at her tablet. “Wisla. A request will be reviewed in good time, typically three to four months before it makes its way to the desk of the Leader. I suggest you settle down, settle in, become accustomed to our routines here, make friends, see how you can contribute to the advancement of Freeland itself. These are much more important actions than an audience with Mr. Cou—.” She stopped short, smiled and shook her head. “No fair, Mr. Wisla.” She pulled a smaller tablet from her pocket. “Make your request with this, and return it to me at dinner in #6 Cafeteria.”
Coru took the tablet and typed in his request, his fingers flying across the screen. Wren was a little taken aback with his skill. The Coru she knew fixed old motors, begged for seconds of Catherine’s cherry pie and hugged trees when he thought no one was watching. Seeing his fingers trip across the screen hit home the certain knowledge that Coru had a whole other life she knew nothing about, and he was headed back there as soon as he could arrange it. This new knowledge felt like a boot pressing down on the middle of her chest.
“How many Cafeterias do you have here?” Deklin piped up, stopping them all cold. Deklin never spoke to strangers.
Seeing their reaction, Amy looked around at the others before answering Deklin slowly, “There are twenty cafeterias.”
Deklin’s eyes grew big with anticipation.
Coru turned the tablet around and handed it back to Amy.
She met his eyes in surprise, then came to herself and accepted it, tucking it back into her pocket. “I’ll be sure to hand your request on. In the meantime, make yourselves at home here. Rest, clean up, eat; whatever you wish. You’re safe now. Tomorrow morning there will be an orientation for your group at nine a.m. on Level Twelve. Nice to have you with us. I hope to see you again.” She nodded briskly and left. Wren was willing to bet this would
be the last time they saw Amy.
She turned away from the exit of their family unit and took a better look around. Everything here, beyond their clothes and the bedding was constructed of stainless steel and could be hosed down for the next occupants in under ten minutes. She wondered what kind of turnover they had here in Freeland. She ran her hand along the slick communications screen. Oddly, it felt warm to the touch, not cool as she’d expected. It sprang to life, presenting an old classic movie she’d seen long ago as a child, about a displaced Aussie croc hunter in New York City. It was a fun movie. “You’ll like this, Deklin.” She turned away and grabbed up a set of the gray clothing she’d selected. “I’m going to find a hot shower and I may never come back.”
When they filed into Cafeteria #6, they were all basically pruney from standing under a spray of hot, hot water, letting weeks of grime fall away. The Freelander uniform they now wore was soft and comfortable, and it was good to see the members of their Bear Lake crew here in the cafeteria dressed the same, still wet hair, rosy faces, clean nails. There were no established Freelanders here, she noticed. Were they being quarantined for some reason?
Gayle was moving around easily, a surprise to all. Once she’d loaded her tray, she and Tony and all the kids joined them at one of the long tables. Here she launched into the story of her miraculous recovery. Their greeter had noticed right away that Gayle was favoring her back and asked what the problem was. That led to Mario’s wound and the both of them being hustled into the Level 302 infirmary.
An MRI pointed out Gayle’s problem at once — she had compressed three vertebrae when she’d lifted her son and carried him from the battle field into their camper. The doctor viewed the results, numbed the area and was able to carefully insert some sort of artificial fluid into the collapsed cushioning that protected the vertebra right there and then. Three tiny Band-Aids later, Gayle was up and walking around as if nothing had happened.
Lost Sentinel: Post-Apocalyptic Time Travel Adventure (Earth Survives Series Book 1) Page 44