Reset (Book 2): Salvation

by Jacqueline Druga

  Then not only was he playing the part of preacher, he was living it. Setting an example for others. It was difficult at first, living under the Christian spotlight. Until he finally believed in what he was doing. He saw the good in it.

  Now all that was gone.

  The million followers were victims of a deliberately released virus. A world torn asunder. A world he preached that God would save, was abandoned.

  It took two weeks after wakening to realize that, but Jason did.

  Finally.

  Then the old Jason quickly wanted to come back. So he drank. He didn’t care. No one cared what he did. Which made him come to another realization. Drinking didn’t really help a hangover.

  He stopped, but it would be only for the time being. Jason was certain he would drown himself in booze again, the next chance he got. Drinking was easy. It was easy before in his life when he had nothing, and it certainly was now with everything gone.

  <><><><>

  Salvation was under lockdown. It was only the second time that Trey could recall it ever happening. The first, he couldn’t get in. Now he was inside and couldn’t get out. No trade occurred on the streets, shops were closed, a strict sundown curfew was in effect.

  He assumed it was because rioting and demonstrations started in the streets over the arrival of the former president. A man believed to be dead for thirty years. At the first sign of disruption, Salvation Command locked it tight.

  Trey was preparing to leave the hospital when it occurred and was told to stay. His father was in and out of consciousness. The doctors examined him, operated to remove an infection pocket. They ran intravenous fluids into his arm and a course of strong antibiotics. The antibiotic treatment would be ongoing for three days before his father could leave.

  Or rather, according to the medical staff … before Don could leave.

  Trey didn’t stay in the room, not the entire time. It would look suspicious, especially after having lied about his father’s identity.

  He wanted to stay until his father was well enough to speak to, but he stayed unconscious. It got to the point that Trey had to leave without rousing suspicion as to why he was hanging out diligently with a neighbor.

  He spent the night in the first floor lobby, since he couldn’t leave until daylight. When he was able to, he went back to his father’s room, telling the nurse he just wanted to check on his neighbor before heading home.

  His father was still sleeping.

  “Hey,” Trey whispered shaking him. “Hey.”

  Groggy, His father opened his eyes. “What happened? I missed the arrival.”

  “I can’t stay long. But … You’re here and getting well,” Trey told him, speaking softly.

  “What’s wrong? You seem antsy.”

  Trey exhaled. Was it showing that much? He walked to the door, listened to hear if anyone was outside then moved to the bed continuing to speak softly. “Look at your hospital ID.”

  Malcolm squinted. “It’s blurry.”

  “It says Donald Stanton.”

  “Why?”

  “I had to give a false name.”

  “To get me in here?”

  “In a sense. Just … whatever you do. Remember, do not tell them who you are.”

  “What’s going on Trey?” His father asked.

  “Dad …. When you were in that experiment, was the president there?”

  “Yeah,” his father groaned, attempting to sit up. “But he died. He committed suicide.”

  Trey shook his head.

  “He didn’t? Trey, he went back down. He went down to the decontamination.”

  “Did you see him die?” Trey questioned.

  “No.”

  “He’s here. And it’s not good. I don’t know what he was told, or believed before it all went down, but while you guys slept in your ice beds, the world blamed him as the one that started the plague. He emerges, tells people he was frozen, the world now has someone to punish for the virus.”

  “That’s what’s happening?”

  “I think so. They went into lockdown. There are riots. I just wanted you to know you’re my neighbor, ok?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I gotta go.” Trey placed his hand on his father’s leg. “I’ll be back, Don.” He smiled.

  “I’ll be here.”

  Trey turned.

  “Trey?” His father called out. “Anything else I should know, in case they ask?”

  “You make valves for the machines that process the corn oil. That’s it. You live alone. Kind of a hermit. Haven’t been in Salvation since they opened the walls.”

  “Got it.”

  Trey conveyed another smile, walked to the door and opened it.

  To his surprise two Salvation Command guards stood there wearing not only their black combat uniforms, but cloth facemasks as well.

  “Trey Lowe?” One spoke. “I’m Lieutenant Landstrom of SalCom. Do you have a second?”

  Nervously, Trey replied. “Yes.”

  Landstrom reached back and closed the door.

  “What’s going on?” Trey asked.

  “How well do you know Mr. Stanton in there?”

  Trey had to think fast. Just on the outside chance they looked at the picture ID of Don Stanton. He replied, “Not very. We’ve never really spoken. He delivers his parts to Mr. Diaz. He lives three farms over.”

  “How did you come to bring him here?”

  “He showed up at my house extremely sick.”

  “With his ID?” Landstrom asked.

  “Yes, I guess, he was injured.” Trey said. “Am I in trouble for bringing him?”

  “No. Sir, are you aware that the former president has arrived and claims to have been in a cryogenic stasis during the past thirty years?”

  Trey nervously laughed. “For real?”

  “Very much so. He also claims several others survived with him. We believe that man in there is one of those people.”

  Trey didn’t reply.

  “We came to ask for your help in finding out who he really is.”

  “Absolutely,” Trey said.

  “Thank you. But first, we need you to come to quarantine.”

  “What? Why?”

  “We have reason to believe,” Landstrom said. “He may be highly contagious.”

  THREE - EMERGE

  Malcolm felt better. He was groggy during his talk with Trey, but once the fog cleared from his head, he felt stronger. The fever that beat him down was gone.

  He listened to the voices outside of the room. Trey spoke to someone. Malcolm couldn’t make out the words. He sensed it wasn’t good, especially after the news Trey delivered. He guessed it wouldn’t be long before someone came into his room. If Trey was covering up Malcolm’s identity, surely it wasn’t a doctor going over Malcolm’s condition with him.

  His arm was attached via tubing to an intravenous bag, but other than that Malcolm was mobile and he wanted to take advantage of that. He missed the entrance into Salvation. More than anything he was curious about the world set behind a wall.

  What type of city was it thirty years in the future? Nothing in the room was ‘futuristic’. Of course, Malcolm learned from the Back To The Future movies that thirty years was a mere blip. There was a chance technology wasn’t zooming ahead. He remembered seeing the movies and waiting for all the cool stuff that the movies predicted. In a sense, a lot was accurate, but on a smaller scale.

  Still alone in the room, voices outside continuing, Malcolm removed the sheet, swung his legs over the bed and stood.

  The window was close and Malcolm wanted to look out.

  He wanted to see, at least a part of, Salvation.

  He parted the blinds ever so slightly, like a nosey neighbor trying not to be seen. What Malcolm did see surprised him. He wasn’t many floors up, maybe three or four and his view was stilted. There were no cars, no exterior motor noise, very few people walked the streets. He didn’t know what city he was in, but it looked to Malcolm like a sma
ll town. Those structures still remained, almost like a relic or museum. Beyond the original buildings were multitudes of the same gray building. All four stories high, all square, plain. They were simplistically constructed. Those, Malcolm imagined, were erected in the preparation years and more were added as population grew.

  It was all speculation from what he saw, which wasn’t very much. It was all very old fashioned, yet futuristic.

  He turned with a jolt when his door opened and a man in biohazard gear entered the room.

  “We are going to need you to step back and into bed please.” He said.

  “Everything okay?” Malcolm asked.

  “Please return to your bed.”

  Not one to disobey orders, especially since he was the ‘alien’ in the new foreign world, Malcolm retreated to his bed. Once he sat upon it, the man signaled at the door. Four more people entered, all dressed the same in protective gear.

  They moved quickly, sealing the windows with plastic, covering everything including vents. Around his bed, they erected a tent. While doing so, no one spoke to him.

  Malcolm didn’t need to be a scientist or doctor to realize he was being placed in some sort of quarantine. But why?

  He only knew that whatever the reason, it wasn’t going to play out well.

  His heart sunk and he cursed the injury that brought him there. Something in his gut said that for him it was going to be far from Salvation.

  <><><><>

  Rusty made John and Meredith a care package. Not that he wasn’t escorting them to Wrecker land to find their buggy, he was. But he knew they weren’t coming back with him. That’s what he told them.

  “That’s big,” John commented when Rusty showed him the old duffel bag as he loaded it in the back of the cart.

  “Ain’t all,” Rusty lifted a box. “Made you a humdinger of a care package.”

  “Is that so,” John said.

  “We really appreciate it,” Meredith added.

  “I know you two have your stuff. But this is good stuff. Important. Things you’ll need.” Rusty opened the bag and box some, then indicated that aside from the revolver size crossbow, which John likened to an old nerf gun dart shooter, he gave them marijuana and moonshine. “Won’t get stuff like this anywhere,” He lifted the jug. “Best this side of the straits of the Waste.”

  “Straits of the Waste,” John repeated. “Obviously referring to the post nuclear wasteland.”

  “You got it.” Rusty winked.

  <><><><>

  The horse drawn buggy ride was bumpy and long. John wondered how he never woke up even briefly after his attack. It was a different view of everything, especially with Rusty giving the narration of each step.

  “All this here,” Rusty pointed out. “Was a mall. The mall then became a medical camp. After that, it was tore down. Yep. I can remember as a boy coming here and stealing food.”

  Meredith said, “it had to be difficult for you.”

  “We did what we could. Houses used to be closer. There used to be grocery stores. I think the only thing that is better is pockets of humanity.”

  “What do you mean?” John asked. “You’re talking about those who survived?’

  “No, those who survived and are good people. They kept their humanity. Neighbors help neighbors now. Not a lot of hate.”

  “That’s one good thing,” Meredith said.

  They moved along for a bit further until Rusty pointed out and announced, “This is where I found you.”

  “Were we just out in the open?” John asked.

  “No. Not at all. Wouldn’t have looked had I not seen a dead Wrecker. Usually they take their dead, they must have missed him.” Rusty pulled the buggy to a stop and climbed out. “Do you recall where your own mobile is?”

  John stepped out and looked around. “Back there.” He pointed.

  “So you hid it?” Rusty asked. “Think the Wreckers got to it?”

  “Yeah, but we have a secret compartment and Grant, the man that was with us, he was so paranoid about someone attacking us he hid the battery cell.”

  Meredith asked. “John, if they didn’t get the battery cell, how are we gonna charge it enough to start the buggy. It’s been a few days.”

  “Chances are it’s charged. It wasn’t buried,” John replied.

  “Wreckers could have got it,” Rusty said.

  “Doubtful,” John replied. “They wouldn’t know what to do with it.” Tromping over what foliage there was, John uncovered the buggy.

  The stuff that was hidden under the back seat remained. He then scoured the area for the mark on the stump. Grant had marked a broken tree stump to show where he hid the battery cell.

  Sure enough, it was there. John grinned and held it up.

  “So is this goodbye?” Rusty asked. “I mean you got your vehicle and energy contraptions. What happens now?”

  Meredith stepped to Rusty. “We tell you how grateful we are for you and even though we are leaving, I’d like to ask if we can come back and see you after we meet up with our friends. We’re gonna need to settle somewhere and I think this area is perfect.’

  “I’d like that. You have the map. Don’t lose it.” He shook his finger at them in a lighthearted way.

  “We won’t.” John then embraced Rusty. “I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you. I will never forget what you have done for me.”

  “Come back and visit, let me know if you ever found Salvation.”

  That was all Rusty requested. He gave them his version of a care package and brought Meredith and John to the solar buggy then he stayed and helped bury Grant, then watched as they pulled away.

  John kept peering back in the mirror until Rusty faded. “Ready?” John asked Meredith.

  “As ready as I can be.”

  “Where to first?”

  Meredith looked down at the map. “At least twenty miles from here. Then we’re safely out of Wrecker land.” She glanced back down to the map and the section marked with a ‘W’. “I hope.”

  <><><><>

  It was a good day. The weather was clear and Rusty wanted to enjoy the ride back to his home. At the pace he set it would take a good hour or so, but that was fine. He had a bit of a headache and hoped the fresh air would do him some good. He had been stagnant in his home since the arrival of his guests. Or rather the two people he found and helped. There was something strange about them, they claimed to not know anything. Hinted that they were in some sort of experiment that had them sleep for decades. To Rusty, they were either very clever and creative, or they were telling the truth.

  The fact that they went into Wrecker territory told him a lot.

  No one knowingly goes into Wrecker World.

  He liked John and Meredith. Although John seemed stuffy, he was a nice guy. Rusty hoped they wouldn’t leave. If indeed they just woke up from some sort of refrigerator cooling system, they weren’t prepared for the world. The fact that they had been attacked and violently sexually violated told Rusty that. Had it not been for them needing to meet their friends, Rusty would have encouraged them to stay. Learn a little of the new world.

  As they went their separate ways, in complete opposite directions, Rusty kept looking over his shoulder to the odd sun mobile they rode. In his mind, he wished them luck just one more time.

  About twenty minutes into his journey, maybe about ten miles, he spotted it. The sun beat squarely down at Rusty casting a haze over his vision. He tipped his hat to shade his sight and pulled on the reins to lower the speed.

  “Well, look at that,” Rusty said as he neared the figure on the road.

  The person walked slowly, nearly staggering, but by the size of him, Rusty knew, even from a distance it was a Wrecker.

  Wreckers had eye problems and didn’t see well at all in the sun. Hence, Rusty believed, why he staggered.

  He was a huge son of a bitch, Rusty thought, bigger than most he had seen.

  What was he doing out not only in the day, but in an area n
ot quite dirty, dusty and dead, like Wrecker Land? Maybe he was in the shade, trying to make his way. Lost.

  Whatever the case, Wreckers were dangerous. Rusty didn’t worry about being hurt. Even with a bad knee and hip, he could dart out of the way. Especially on the open road under a bright clear sky.

  Another pull of the reins, the horse ‘neighed’ and the Wrecker stopped, then looked around. His hand was on his stomach and the other reached out.

  The Wrecker made some sort of noise. As if he were calling out.

  It carried to Rusty, louder and stronger as the Wrecker stood in one place waving out his extended hand.

  Was he thinking he was gonna attack? If Rusty didn’t know any better, he would have sworn the Wrecker was trying to get help.

  But Rusty knew better.

  He reached behind him for his cross bow and made sure it was loaded and ready to go. Rusty needed one shot, one shot only, but even as good of a shot as he was, he had to get closer. The sun distorted his vision.

  “Easy boy,” Rusty said to the horse and stepped from the cart.

  The Wrecker didn’t move.

  “What are you doing in these parts?” Rusty asked.

  The Wrecker reached out.

  “Can’t see me to attack. Can you now?”

  Another groan and again, the Wrecker swung out.

  Rusty was about fifteen feet away, but in order to make it a clean shot, one that would kill, he had to get closer. Just as he hit a distance of eight feet, he raised the weapon, prepared to fire, when the Wrecker, just dropped to the ground.

  Was it some sort of ploy? Rusty still planned on killing him and lowered his aim. He would have killed him had the Wrecker not started to shake. His body convulsed slightly and the Wrecker coughed. He coughed in a choking manner.

  “What the hell?” Rusty lowered his aim, still keeping his distance.

  Once more the Wrecker reached out, then his arm dropped and he went still.

  Rusty gave it a moment in case it was a trick. When he realized the Wrecker was dead he stepped closer.