Sifters

by Shane Scollins

  “Wow,” Dia said. “When did all that happen?”

  Bobby gave her a derisive smile. “Well, you could’ve come around once in a while.”

  Dia rubbed her eyes. “Yeah, I’ve been really busy.”

  Bobby touched her shoulder. “I heard about your parents. I’m so sorry, Dia.”

  “Thanks, Bobby.”

  “I have something for you. Wait here.” Bobby moved quickly through the crowd toward the brick school building and disappeared inside.

  Tallon crossed his arms. “I’m impressed at the level of organization here this far outside the annex.”

  “You thought everyone out here was a lawless mongrel.” She shook her head. “Freaking Sifters.”

  “Well, technically they are. They’re Sifters, and they’re out here—”

  “To do good!” Dia replied demonstratively, placing her hands on her hips. “I know what the name means. And I also know what it means to people inside.”

  Tallon sighed at her. “I know.”

  “No, you don’t know. You don’t know what we go through out here trying to be good. It’s easy to be a Prepper. They live in clans, they have food all the time, and protection. They’re the real enemies. Your stupid documentary that everyone takes as gospel apparently didn’t differentiate. It’s easy to give up on life when the world has given up on you.”

  “Dia, I’m sorry. But whatever you are, is what you believe you are. You put your own stamp on your days.”

  “Yeah, and sometimes people put the stamp on you.”

  Dia saw Bobby emerge from the building. A few children ran up to him and clamored around. He reached into his pocket and took out a fistful of white candies. Dia laughed to herself; she knew exactly what they were.

  Bobby made his way back over.

  “Still giving out those Tic-Tacs, huh? How many of those things do you have left?”

  Bobby rubbed his face. “Oh, I still have about fifty cases.”

  Dia looked at Tallon. “Bobby stole an entire tractor-trailer filled with Tic-Tacs a couple years ago from the annex. It was a legendary move.”

  Bobby laughed. “Well, it certainly made me popular with the kids.” He held up a key on a stainless steel chain. “This is for you.”

  Dia moved her head back. “What is it?”

  “Why, Dia, it’s a key.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I know that, wiseass. What’s it for?”

  Bobby shrugged. “I’m not sure. But I was supposed to give it to your father. He died before I had the chance.”

  Dia reached out and took hold of the key by the thick silver chain. “Who gave it to you?”

  “A woman named Gwen. She was a traveler. She made it here, wounded badly from a skirmish inside the annex. She told me her last mission was to get this key to Tony Demarco before she died. You and your father had already left here and gone east. I tried to track you down. I sent Misha and the boys to find you, but they were told you were gone.”

  Dia turned the key over in her hands. It was the color of tarnished brass, and on one side, it had the numbers 3681. On the other side, it just said CRATES. The word didn’t mean anything to her. Never did her father mention the word or insinuate he had a storage unit, or lock box. She slid the chain over her neck and tucked the key into her olive tank top.

  Bobby held out a piece of paper. “Here, this should get you close to Rotus. If he’s not here, talk to a gal named Regina. She’ll know where he moved on to.”

  Dia gave Bobby a hug. “Thanks, friend.”

  “Anytime.” He looked at Tallon. “Watch each other’s back out here.” He handed Dia two blue tokens. “Here, lunch is on me.” He nodded to the smoke rising on the far side of the field. “They have great chicken barbeque and a pile of salted veggies to die for.”

  Chapter 19

  After parking the motorcycle behind a roadside billboard, Tallon jogged up the hill to meet Dia. She waited near a row of busted up cars that formed a path into a rancid looking line of small storage units. He stopped to observe her for a moment. She was intently scanning the scene. Judging her posture, he could tell she was on high alert.

  He caught up to her. “Are we going to find trouble here?” Tallon scouted the sky. The sun had dropped, and shadows were forming on the long side of the walls of old cars. He always knew the angles of the shadows. It was part of his training. Using the lights and shadows could work tremendously to your advantage when it came to staying unseen and alive.

  Dia shook her head. “I don’t know. But it’s too quiet here, something’s not right.” She smiled and glanced at him with the side of her eye. “Why, are you worried?”

  “I just want to be prepared if I have to kill someone.”

  “I’m always prepared to kill someone. Out here you have to be.”

  They started down the wide path. The crunching of hard dirt under their feet was the only sound, which was ominous. It was clear there was a well-established community ahead, and Tallon was bothered by the fact he didn’t hear any hustle and bustle of people. Dia was right to say it was too quiet.

  Dia abruptly stopped walking and sniffed the air. “Uh-oh.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I smell propane.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  Dia started walking backward slowly. “We’re in a bad place.”

  “Then let’s leave.”

  They both turned around when a rattling noise set off behind them and three men stood less than twenty feet away. The tall, thin one in the middle shook a football-sized white container that sounded like a can of spray paint. He raised his top lip to show his dirty smile.

  “Jonas-Clan Preppers,” Dia whispered.

  Tallon looked to Dia for cues as to the right move here, but she still appeared to be contemplating. So he pulled out his pistol and held it up.

  “No, don’t!” Dia said. “You see that container he’s shaking? That’s a propane bomb loaded with bearings. It will drop us at fifty feet.”

  Tallon glanced to his left, then to his right. He whispered, “Explosions take time to travel. Dive behind the car to your right on the count of three.”

  “Tallon, don’t.”

  “One.”

  “This is bad.”

  “Two.”

  “Shit.”

  “Three.”

  Tallon quickly fired off three dead-on shots, and dove to his left as the explosion erupted. As he slid off the hood of the car onto the ground, he heard the pellets pinging off the cars, flying over his head. But he didn’t feel anything hit him.

  He popped up to his knees using the car as cover, and one of the men was still standing but wounded. He took another shot and didn’t miss this time, hitting the man in the head.

  Tallon jumped back over the car and ran to the other side of the path to check on Dia. She was there lying on her side, looking up at him.

  “You okay?”

  “You’re crazy. You’re a lunatic.”

  “It takes one to know one.”

  “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “Sometimes the best defense is a good offense.”

  She stood up and dusted herself off. “Guess so.”

  “Hesitation is your worst enemy in situations like that.” He held out his hand and helped her back over the dirty old Toyota.

  Once back on the trail she said, “We can go forward now.”

  “Talk about crazy.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s okay now. Those guys weren’t part of the town. They’re poachers, Preppers who sit and wait for unsuspecting people who’re looking for food or shelter of a town. They would’ve robbed our supplies, taken our clothes and killed us.”

  “You called them Jonas-Clan. What’s that mean?”

  “All the Preppers have clan names. Usually named after someone in the Bible.”

  “They’re spreading the word?”

  “Yeah, basically. Some are just typical Christians, but some clans are hardcore thu
mpers. They kill in the name of Jesus, which is really just their excuse to be brutal with justification.”

  “I don’t get this whole ‘I’m a Sifter but you’re not a Sifter’ thing. Sounds like a tough way to make a living if you can’t differentiate.”

  “The Doomsday Preppers. They’re the real nasty bits. It will be easier if you get it out of your head that everyone out here is the same.” She walked ahead. “Good shots, by the way.”

  “I’m just pissed I had to waste four rounds on them.”

  “Yeah, well. Once we get to the town, keep that thing in your pants.”

  They reached the last rise on the hilly path and saw the fires. “There,” Dia said. “That’s more like it.”

  The hustle and bustle of a fairly busy encampment grew apparent. A large building, which appeared to be another school, was off in the distance. There was a parking lot full of yellow school buses, which people had turned into living spaces. Some distant music could be heard, and children singing. Something about that bothered Tallon.

  “Let me do the talking,” Dia said. “You just play silent type.”

  They walked up to the sentry standing guard in front of the first bus with a long gun on his shoulder. “Call your business out,” the man said with narrow eyes and a firm grip on his gun.

  “We’re looking for food and shelter,” Dia said.

  The man eyed Tallon. “We’re full up. No room for any residents.”

  “We’re passing through,” Dia said. “We’re not looking to stay.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Dia, this is Tallon.”

  “Where’re you coming from, and where’re you going to?”

  “We were up in Hopatcong, we’re heading into the annex for work.”

  “Why’d you stop here?”

  “It looked like a good place.”

  The man leveled his gun on Tallon. He restrained himself. He was close to reaching for his pistol, but he didn’t. He didn’t trust people, but he was trusting Dia that she knew how to play this. And she told him to keep his gun hidden.

  “Brock, Dallas!” the man yelled, and two more men quickly came over. “You must think we’re stupid, little lady.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You don’t think we heard those gunshots? And that propane bomb? We knew them Preppers were out there, and I’m bettin’ they’re not out there now.”

  “We had to defend ourselves.”

  “Who are you?” The man pointed at them. “No bullshit or I get mean.”

  Dia sighed. “Okay, okay. Look, Bobby Bensonhurst sent me here. My father was Tony Demarco.”

  The man frowned. “You’re Tony D’s kid?”

  “Yes, I’m Dia Demarco.”

  “Who’s this?”

  “This is Tallon, he’s a friend of mine.”

  “He’s a Juicer, I can tell.” He stepped forward. “I’m going to extend you a courtesy ‘cuz you’re Tony D’s kid. But you’re going to have to tell me what you’re doing with this Juicer, and why you’re really here.”

  Dia nodded. “We’re looking for a man named Rotus. Bobby said he was here.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  Tallon knew he was lying. One of his gifts was always being able to spot a liar, even a good one. “He’s lying,” he said to Dia.

  “Please, sir. This is matter of life and death.”

  “Whose life?”

  “My brother.” She pointed to Tallon. “And his sister.”

  The man eyed Tallon. “You think I give two rat turds about some Juicer’s sister? ‘Cuz I don’t.”

  “My brother, Ray, he’s dead in a matter of days. This Juicer is the only one who can save him. But his sister is going to die.”

  “Let me guess.” The man smiled. “He won’t help you unless you help him.”

  Tallon eyed the man. “It’s not like that.”

  The man narrowed his eyes. “Oh, but it is like that, Juicer. Isn’t it? We’re all useless trash until you need something from us.”

  Dia stepped in between Tallon and the man. “Okay, even if it is like that, what does it matter? You know as well as I do that nothing comes free in this world. And I need him to save my brother. We don’t have time to play around, so please, sir, I’m asking you. Is Rotus here? If he’s really not here please tell me, and we’ll move on to the next town.”

  The man sighed, nodded. “He’s here.” He looked up. “But it’s my rules.” He looked back to Dia. “My name is Ron, follow me.”

  Ron turned and walked, the other two men stayed behind. They eyed Tallon with pure hate as he walked past them. They hated anyone inside the city just like everyone inside the city hated anyone out here. A Juicer was not a term of endearment and was used to describe anyone who had access to electricity originally, but now it was a term of hate. It was Sifters versus Juicers in the heads of many people on both sides.

  A small shanty neighborhood came into view as they rounded the corner. For the most part, it looked a lot like a neighborhood used to look. Tallon remembered very well what America was like before the fall, and it was a lot like this on a Saturday evening. They passed by kids playing in front yards and adults standing around watching the strangers walk down their street. That’s how America was a long time ago before technology stole the personal interaction. By the time the world crumbled, people were hardly speaking to each other anymore without the aid of a text message or Facebook post. In a way, this teardown of society brought with it the return of so many good things.

  The houses were obviously in a more extreme state of disrepair than they may have been fifteen years ago. The grass was not cut at every house, and some didn’t have any at all. But all the houses appeared to be occupied.

  Tallon didn’t know the number of people who still thrived out here, but it was clear there were children here born after the crash. Seeing the children made him, for the first time, feel bad for these people.

  Ron stopped and pointed to the large redbrick building. “You’ll find Rotus down that driveway at the school. He should be in the gym. My guys will be watching you. If there’s any trouble,” he looked directly at Tallon, “I will shoot you.”

  Chapter 20

  After walking across an athletic field, they came up to the rear of the large school. Dia could easily imagine a time when this place was alive with student activity. She glanced back at the football field and wondered what it might have been like to go to a high school like this, or any at all.

  She turned back around and nodded to another sentry. The short, stocky man with the pointed chin opened the door to let them pass. They walked down a hallway where large gates blocked off every option. The barriers funneled them into the gymnasium, which was large and open. Bleachers stretched from floor to ceiling on their right. In the center of the gym, Dia saw a short, wiry man hunched over some large machine that appeared to be a refrigerator on its back. He was splicing wires and soldering them onto electronic computer chips as they approached.

  She walked up to the man. He was thinly built, but looked strong. His hair was brown and balding on top. His eyes were dark and expressive. He looked up at Dia briefly then went back to his work.

  “Are you Rotus?” Dia asked.

  The man looked up again, and his darting eyes quickly moved over both her and Tallon. Then he placed the soldering iron down and peeled off his gloves. He removed his safety goggles. “I’m Rotus. How can I help you?”

  “My name is Dia, this is Tallon. We’ve come to ask for your help.”

  Rotus stretched his arms straight up and rolled his head around. “What can I do for you?”

  “We have an issue that only you can help with,” Dia said.

  Rotus bent and took hold of a bottle of water. “Time is precious, I don’t beat around the bush, spell it out.” He took a sip.

  Tallon offered, “My sister, Chloe, someone put a neuro probe in her head.”

  He looked Tallon up and down, narrowed his eyes.
“I can’t help you.”

  “Wait,” Tallon said. “You haven’t even heard what I have to say.”

  “Sorry, I know what you are. I don’t help your kind.”

  “Please.” Dia reached out and touched his arm. “By helping him, you’ll be helping me. My brother, Ray, we snuck him into the city back when the lottery went down. My family didn’t win, but our neighbor did. Ray is about to turn fifteen.”

  Rotus winced. “I thought they stopped that whole thing?”

  “Who told you that?” Tallon quipped.

  Rotus shrugged. “I heard they stopped that whole path program because too many people were making noise.”

  Tallon shook his head. “No, they didn’t stop it at all. They just changed the protocol and increased the parental compensations. They’ve also expanded the diagnosis spectrum to assure fewer kids reach fifteen without a diagnosis and a path.”

  Rotus shook his head. “I don’t understand. How does this benefit anyone?”

  “They keep the population under control if they’re all doped up and on their path. They tell everyone inside that something out here is going to kill them. If it’s not the Sifters, it’s some sort of airborne illness, so they feel it’s the best thing for kids to have a path to stay away from trouble and temptation.”

  Rotus shook his head again and closed his eyes. “I can’t believe it. It’s Project Sponge all over again.”

  “Project Sponge?” Tallon asked.

  “Back when I worked for the government, there was a certain senate committee mandate with CoreCo. They wanted to get all the kids who were, let’s just say, less than perfect, into the diagnosis spectrum. But it never gained full-on traction. Thankfully, smarter heads prevailed. CoreCo just wanted to expand their client base. They were a greedy company.”

  Tallon shook his head. “CoreCo, you realize who merged with CoreCo before the consolidation?”

  Rotus shook his head.

  “Entech.”

  “Entech? I thought they went out of business after the government investigation into the fraud and insider trading scandal.”