by Jim LaVigne
“Teresa, please!” said Kaes. “We’ve been over this! Now please don’t argue with me!”
Lumler scowled angrily. This was sure as shit no time for these two lovebirds to be playing house! Unable to hold his tongue any more, he shook his big head and cut the doctor off.
“Hey, enough!” he grated. “We ain’t got time for this shit. Either she comes or she goes, but let’s decide and get movin’.”
“Yeah,” said Santiago, standing nearby. “No offense you two, but we are on a timetable here.”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” said Kaes sternly. “She’s going.”
“Am not!” said Teresa.
Lumler saw that she’d managed to find a combat suit that fit her and that she was toting more ordnance than a gun shop. The weird thing was, on her, it didn’t look the least bit out of place. After a lot of wrangling and bad noise, it came down to Kaes against the rest of them. Only he wanted Teresa and the Kid to leave. The rest of them saw her as Lumler did, as an asset to the group, a skilled fighter who knew her way around a firearm. Kaes, though, stuck to his guns, the stubborn bastard.
“It’s not just…” argued Kaes. He turned to Teresa. “We have to tell them,” he said. “About, you know!”
The girl shrugged at Kaes. “That don’ matter,” she said firmly. “Ya said yerself, if you don’ get to Cali, we all gonna die. Right? Even our kid.”
“Your what?” said Santiago, shaking his head. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but we can’t stand here all day arguing! We’ve got to move!”
Kaes finally gave up. Maybe it was the weight of general opinion, like peer pressure, or time pressing on him, or maybe he just realized that the girl was right, but for whatever reason he finally, reluctantly slumped and nodded.
“I suppose you’re right,” he told Teresa. “If we don’t make it, you wouldn’t be safe for long anyway.”
“Don’ worry, Case,” she told him, grinning like a maniac. “You got me here, now. You an’ Misser Lampert gonna be on yer way to Cali in no time!”
“OK, great,” said Lumler. “We got that sorted out. Now can we go?”
“Yes, of course,” said Kaes, all frowns and furrowed brow. “Let’s go.”
They all climbed back aboard the cart train. Kaes sat with Teresa and the Kid. To Lumler, they made a nice group, like a family. In better times, and if they weren’t armed and dressed in combat gear, he could easily have pictured them on a ride at Disneyland or enjoying a day in the park. It made him feel strange somehow, sort of sad and happy at the same time, but his blunt nature simply dismissed it as nostalgia and moved on.
Once back underway, they made good time and, before long, had come to the narrow spot where they would have to leave the cart train and go on foot. Here they all loaded up on weapons and gear, switched on a couple of flashlights, and then splashed quietly down the next tunnel. After maybe five or six city blocks, they came to a manhole, the same as dozens of others they’d passed, reaching up to the surface, where Santiago stopped and looked up.
“This is the one,” he said. “Opens up right down the street from the mansion.” He looked back to the group. “Well?” he said, grinning wickedly. “Are we all ready to go?”
They all nodded. Dr. Kaes started to say something but then clapped his mouth shut.
“OK then,” said Santiago. “We’ve been through this a million times. Just stick to the plan and keep calm and everything’ll go just fine.” He sighed and gave each of them a hard look. “OK,” he finally nodded, “let’s do this.” And they started climbing up the rusted iron rungs.
Lumler, bringing up the rear, waited patiently for his turn and checked and re-checked his weapons. Finally he was alone in the sewer tunnel. For a second, he thought of just not climbing up after the others, simply slinking off down the tunnels and away from this crazy bunch of do-gooding maniacs, but then he shrugged to himself and started climbing.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Q. Knock, knock
A. Who’s there?
Q. Survivor
A. Survivor who? Now get the hell away from here before I blow your damned head off.
—popular joke, circa 2077
In spite of all that was on the line, Teresa couldn’t help but be excited. This kind of stuff, sneaking around, ambushing people, shooting guns and all, well it just made her feel alive, like good sex or the best kinds of stupidwater. Oh, she knew that Justin didn’t approve of this kind of thing; he was a real C-head about hurting people—any people, no matter how bad—and got all scaredy when there were bullets flying, and it vaguely bothered her that this all bothered him, but she just couldn’t help it. This was fun!
At the moment, she was lying flat on her belly in a thick patch of weeds in an alley behind a great big brick building all surrounded by a tall brick fence with lights and barbed wire and guards, this imposing thing they called the Governor’s Mansion. She wasn’t sure what a “mansion” was, but if this was a good example, she decided that, on the whole, it would be lots better to be inside of one than out. At any rate, from up close it was pretty nasty-looking.
This place they called New America didn’t seem too appealing, either. All of the buildings were dark and quiet, but with the sense that there were people, hidden in the bricks and metal somewhere, maybe watching and listening. It made her edgy and claustrophobic and she wished there was more open space and clearer lines of sight.
At her side was the big lady named Still, the one with all the knives. Since she was the only one who could fly a plane, a vital part of the plan, it had been decided that she, like Case and the Old Man, would wait for the others to clear the way. Teresa didn’t know anything about her, but Still carried herself well and didn’t make too much noise, plus she had all of those nice sharp throwing blades. As far as Teresa was concerned, and until she proved otherwise, Still was OK.
Behind them, in even deeper cover, were Case and the Old Man, huddled under a camouflaged tarp. The rest of the group was off, supposedly dealing with the guards, and she and Still had been given the job of guarding these two. It was fine with Teresa; storming guarded compounds wasn’t exactly her kind of thing.
The Kid was here, too, somewhere. She’d tried to get him to stay back at the Council HQ, but it been like talking to an animal, like a dog or a cat that was going to follow you wherever you went no matter what you said or did, and so she’d finally relented and let him follow along. At the moment, she had no idea where he was. As soon as they’d crawled up out of the sewer, he’d vanished into the darkness like smoke. She wasn’t worried about him, though. He’d proven already that he could more than take care of himself. Likely he was lurking in the bushes somewhere nearby.
They’d been waiting for maybe five minutes when, from around the corner of the building, came a couple of grunting noises. Then it was quiet again, just the crickets and the yapping of a faraway dog. Teresa looked over at Still.
“Whattaya think?” she whispered.
“Not yet,” Still whispered back. “Wait for the signal.”
Teresa nodded and settled back. From behind them came a sneeze. It wasn’t all that loud, and she knew that the Old Man couldn’t help it, having just gotten over a cold, but it was still jarring in the extreme, given the surrounding silence, and she whipped around to glare at the place where he and Case were hiding. Still did likewise, but no further noise came from the darkness and she and Teresa looked at each other, shrugged, and went back to watching and waiting.
It seemed like a long time went by and Teresa, antsy and hyper-vigilant, was about to ask Still what they should do, when suddenly the quiet urban night was pierced by the high, bird-like shriek of a metal whistle. Tweeee! Twee, twee, twee!
“That’s it,” said Still, starting to rise. “Let’s move.”
Then, out of nowhere, came a gruff man’s voice that froze Teresa in place like a bath of liquid nitrogen.
“Don’t move a fuckin’ inch,” it said,
harsh and loud in the stillness.
Teresa and Still both did as told, tense as drum heads, as a man, dressed in some kind of fancy suit, what they called a uniform, all black with shiny buttons topped by a black cap, slowly stepped out of the shadows and into view. Average-looking otherwise, he had a shotgun and the business end pointed at a point midway between the two women.
“Drop them guns,” the man said stonily. “And get up, real nice and slow.”
They did as the man said. Getting to her feet, Teresa felt her limbs beginning to shake and her breath come in short gulps. Having a gun pointed at her always made her angry like that. Instinctively, she started judging the distance to the man and how quickly she could get her hands on him.
The man was about to say something else, but the very instant he opened his mouth, something heavy came smashing down on his head and, cap and shotgun flying, he gave a strangled groan and fell onto his face, more or less at their feet. And standing there with a metal bar in hand, shaking his head sadly, was Justin Case. He’d knocked the black-suit greep into the middle of next week!
Teresa grinned at him. “Nice work, hey!” she said. “Dropped him like a sack o’ ploop!”
“Yeah, doc,” nodded Still. “Way to go! Now come on. We gotta get movin’, so get the Old Man and let’s—”
“The Old Man’s right here,” came Lampert’s voice, and he came tottering up, the camo-blanket around his shoulders like a robe. He stopped and looked down at the unconscious black-suited man and then over at Case. “You had to do, it, Doc,” he said. “Don’t feel bad.”
“I hope that he’s not too badly hurt, but I’m afraid we don’t have time to see to him. The signal…”
“Yeah,” said Still. “Let’s move.”
Teresa gave Case a fleeting grin, nodded and then took the lead towards the main gate. Before they’d gone ten steps, the rattling, banging sound of gunfire came from inside.
When they got into the mansion itself, past a big courtyard and some smaller buildings, where the inert forms of about a dozen of those black-suited men lay scattered around like discarded, life-sized toys, Teresa was a little disappointed to find that she’d missed all of the action. There was still a hint of gun smoke in the air, bullet holes here and there, and brass casings and shreds of burnt wadding all over the floor, but nothing stirred. But as she soon discovered, the aftermath turned out to be eventful enough.
The main building was huge, at least by her standards, and so neat and clean and lavishly decorated that she had a hard time at first not gawking at the splendor and alien orderliness of it all. There were so many rooms and stairways and hallways and all kinds of rooms she didn’t have names for, plus all this furniture, chairs and tables and lamps and cabinet-things, all super-fancy and shiny, and pictures hanging on the walls and rugs on the gleaming floors, all of it brightly lit with real old electric bulbs. It was like something out of an old vid or a picture from an old book from Before. Amazed, she actually stopped and lowered her boomstick to gape.
“Hey, come on!” said Still, nudging her and breaking the spell. “Up here!”
Following the woman’s lead, she made for a big central stairway, an enormous, carpeted, incredibly wide set of stairs with big thick wooden railings. From somewhere at their head, they could hear muffled voices, intent but not angry. The rest of the place was quiet. Teresa stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked back at Case and Mr. Lampert.
“Wanna lift, Misser Lampert?” she asked, jerking her head at the imposing stairs. “Ain’t no thing.”
The Old Man looked at the stairs, made a face, and then looked around.
“Naw,” he finally said. “I don’t wanna get carried around anymore. And there’s an elevator, right over there.”
Teresa glanced up the steps and saw that Still was almost at the top. She looked urgently back to Case and Lampert.
“Go ahead,” said Case, nodding, sort of sad-like. “We’ll be right up.”
Teresa nodded eagerly and bolted up the stairs, three at a time. When she got to the top, the sound of the voices drew her down a wide hallway, to a huge double door, thrown wide open, that led into another gigantic, well-lit, impossibly perfect room. Here she paused to take in the scene.
Standing on either end of a big table-like desk were two of their friends: the big man, Lumler, and Shipman, the mean little greep with the fancy camo-suit. Lying all around, in various positions like rag dolls, some in pools of blood, some alive but groaning and hurt, were about ten of the black suits. Some of the furniture in here had been thrown around, upended or knocked over, and there were lots of bullet holes in the walls and floor.
With a sharp pang, she noticed another body on the floor, this one covered with a camo blanket, and then another just like it, two of their comrades obviously dead, just two pairs of boots sticking out from under a blanket. Grim process of elimination told her that it had to be the hispano Army guy, CJ, and Santiago, the animal doctor.
The two remaining men, the big one and the little one, looked highly pissed-off and had their weapons trained on the center of attention, another man she’d never seen before who was sitting in a big padded chair behind the desk. Some do-dads, papers and pens and lamps and things, sat in front of the man, and if he knew that he had two angry men pointing guns at him, he sure as hell didn’t show it. Fact was, he looked more like he was bored.
Not much to speak of looks-wise, the man—the Governor, she now realized—was average sized, though it was hard to tell since he was sitting, and dressed in an old-style suit, like in the old vids of President Ortega, a black suit with a red necktie and collared white shirt and everything. His face was hard for her to read. His skin was pink and smooth, but his eyes were deep-set and small, like an angry pig, and his mouth turned down at the edges like he never smiled.
Walking slowly, like she was in a dream, she stepped past Still, who’d taken up a guard position in the hallway, and into the room. As she did, the Governor looked up at her and smiled. The other men moved not an inch, their weapons never swayed, and the angry looks on their faces only got angrier.
“Ah, now who is this?” said the Governor. His voice was strong, but a little high-pitched and femmy for her tastes. Kind of like how Justin sounded, all fancy and proper and all, only somehow sneaky and nasty. “Another of your little… gang?” the man asked, although who he was asking wasn’t clear. “And such a pretty gang member. What’s your name, my dear?”
Teresa walked slowly up to the desk and stopped, her shotgun leveled at the man’s shiny pink face, and looked him in the eyes.
“Teresa,” she said. “An’ you about this close to dead.”
The little guy, Shipman, said nothing, but a kind of growling noise came out of Lumler, like a big dog that’s looking at some raw meat. The Governor just smiled again, although it seemed sort of like his face didn’t want to, and nodded.
“Yes, I suppose so,” he said, sad-like, and shook his head. Up close, she saw that his hair was perfect, brushed and combed and shiny, with sharp lines where it had been recently cut, and that his skin was flawless, like the stuff they made toilets out of. But it was pale like that stuff, too, and there was an ugly greasiness to it that made her stomach twist. Nodding again, he waved an arm.
“These men,” he said, “will undoubtedly see to that. Or is that why you’re here?”
“Not me,” said Teresa. “But, like you say, one o’ these two.”
For a long moment they all just kind of waited, the three of them with their guns pointed at the man’s face and him just sitting there like he’d just sat down to dinner. It was weird, and she was about to say something when suddenly a strange ding! noise broke the tension-laden silence and then a metal grating noise. Looking over, she saw that a wall had opened up, slid to one side (the elevator, she decided), and now two forms, one bent and slow, the other tall and lanky and confident, walked into the room. Case, and the Old Man.
Case had a strange, pained expression o
n his face and looked around at all of the bodies and wreckage. He started to go over to the two covered bodies—CJ and Santiago—but then, obviously seeing the way they were covered, just boots, he stopped and just stood there looking angry and sad.
The Old Man, though, after a look around, walked right over and stood next to Teresa. He smelled nice, she thought in passing, a familiar smell of soap and cigarette smoke and old man that made her feel good somehow.
“So this is the guy?” said Lampert. “This is the almighty Governor of New America? Some dork in a suit behind a big fancy desk? Shit, shoulda figured.”
“And you are?” asked the Governor smoothly.
“Heh!” snorted the Old Man. “You wanna know who I am, asshole? You wanna know? Well, I’ll tell ya. I am the goddamn last hope of humanity, that’s all. The last one with the antibodies to stop the Plague. Get it?”
“Ah, Mr. Lampert!” said the Governor. “That’s right, isn’t it? Of course, I should have known. You are the, shall we say, cause of all this trouble, yes? The Old Man we’ve all been so interested in.”
“That’s me, pal,” said Lampert. “One hundred and two years old and too damn mean to die. I’d say it’s a pleasure to meetcha, but really, it ain’t that much of a pleasure at all.”
“Mr. Lampert,” interrupted Case, coming over to the desk. “I think we should just get what we came for and go. This man is no longer a threat.”
“And you,” said the Governor, looking up at Justin, “must be the eminent Doctor Kaes. I’ve heard all about you, as well.”
Justin, his face going red, turned on the Governor. “Then you also know,” he said, angry, “what we are trying to do. The gravity of our mission. Its importance, for the very survival of the human race!”
The Governor just nodded. “Of course,” he said, all silky. “That’s what made you and Mr. Lampert here so very valuable. You have to understand, it was nothing of a personal nature. I know nothing at all about you or your associates or Mr. Lampert. To me, you were a valuable commodity, to be taken and sold like any other. And the proceeds of the sale, the ransom, if we must be crude, would have benefited thousands. The citizens of New America would have reaped the benefit, and then you would have been able to go on to California and proceed with your plans. Gentlemen, this is no longer the United States that we once knew, where constraints of law and etiquette are still observed. We must do what we must to survive, here in New America.”