Roger, unaware that Teddy was looking over at him, picked his bulbous nose and crossed the street towards the Capitol’s steps.
A black Humvee was parked in the clearing nearby, with an array of loudspeakers fastened to a pole on its roof. The doors bore the Homeland Security emblem and the words Topeka Federal Police were stenciled across the vehicle’s fenders. Blue lights flashed brightly from the bar across its roof. A voice boomed over the vehicle’s loudspeakers: Attention, any squatters in the area—this is the Topeka Federal Police Battalion. Surrender immediately for medical evaluation or you will be subject to detention. I repeat, surrender immediately or you will be detained by force.
Two black police prisoner vans pulled up with their emergency lights flashing and came to a stop on opposite sides of the street. Riot police wearing helmets and gasmasks hopped out of the back of the vehicles, and ran up the steps into the Capitol with their shotguns ready.
“It looks like they’re ready for war,” Teddy said as he followed Roger.
“It always goes this way,” Roger replied with a shrug. “It doesn’t matter how peacefully they surrender—force is always used.”
“And what if they are sick?”
“Do you really have to ask?”
“None of this is right,” Teddy said.
“No, it’s not, but let’s keep moving.”
A swarm of low-flying drones emerged out of the safe zone and converged towards the courtyard and the surrounding area. They flew low and fast as they scanned the rooftops and peered down alleyways.
Teddy ducked and then looked up in the air, confused—he had been locked up a very long time and this was the first time he was actually witnessing a drone in person.
“Come on,” Roger said, smiling. “They won’t hurt you. All they do is look for squatters and make sure none of us run off. ” He pointed up at one. “See the lens there at the bottom?”
“Little flying cameras?” Teddy asked as he calmed himself, and slowly stood back up. He shook his head and started walking again. “Shit, I guess I really was better off at that awful stadium.”
Teddy and Roger followed the other workers from the bus up the stairs and through the building’s massive wooden doors. A sign on the door read: Public Building Closed by Order of the Kansas Department of Health.
As they walked through the abandoned security station and past the old metal detectors, the building’s degradation became apparent.
Loose trash littered the marble floor of the building’s grand hall and rotunda. Rogue strands of sunlight shone through the dome’s shattered skylights and cast long shadows across homemade encampments formed out of office furniture and tattered sheets. The Art Deco stylized murals on the walls were mostly covered with graffiti and were peeling away from their stucco due to exposure to the elements. A gigantic Lady Justice made of marble stood in the center of the rotunda with a Kansas flag draped over her scales—the sword in her other hand had been smashed to pieces by vandals.
“Well, so much for the place being untouched ever since it was closed,” Teddy said as he looked around at the tents.
The sound of people shouting and scuffling with the officers echoed through the rotunda.
“Yep,” Roger said as he walked forward and stood next to Teddy. “It also sounds like the place isn’t abandoned after all.”
One of the nearby restroom doors flung open and a riot officer dragged a screaming woman by her long red hair. He yanked her across the floor with one hand as she held onto his wrist and flailed her legs wildly, kicking off one of her scuffed tennis shoes in the process.
Another officer escorted a frail-looking man out with his arms twisted behind his back and forced him to keep moving forward.
Teddy watched the unfolding scene and frowned.
“Come on.” Roger pointed towards a group of office doors under a brass placard that read: Public Records Division. “Let’s get away from the circus before we get stuck in the middle of the clowns.”
“Good idea,” Teddy replied. He tried numerous doors until he found one that was unlocked and stepped inside.
It was pitch black.
Roger followed behind him and pulled out his plastic flashlight. He turned it on and scanned the room with its dim yellow light.
A series of cubicles lined one side of the room while tall filing cabinets lined the other. Most of the cabinet drawers were pulled open and loose papers and folders were scattered across the floor. Office chairs and fallen ceiling tiles created something of an obstacle course along the narrow pathway down the center of the room.
Teddy noticed that the dusty desks still had computers and many of the workstations even had purses, backpacks, and the moldering remains of unfinished breakfasts and snacks still sitting on them. “It just looks like everyone was in a hurry to leave.”
“When people started realizing how bad it really was, a single cough could clear out an entire room,” Roger said. “The panic and paranoia was almost as bad as the flu itself. Folks were either jumping at their own shadow or hustling on the street selling snake oil cures just to make a few damn dollars from the sick and dying.”
“I guess I was spared from the worst it, all things considered.”
“How do you figure?”
“Never was much for watching the news and I didn’t buy into rumors. I kept my head down, but that came at a price—I didn’t even know what was happening until it was literally all around me.”
“So you lived rural, huh?”
“You could say so, yeah. I liked my solitude… I liked my routine. The truth is that I miss it—life was simple.”
“No offense, but I never took you for a country boy,” Roger said with a grin. “Where are you from anyway?”
“Texas, originally,” Teddy said as he started walking. “I was living outside Tucson when the bug hit. You?”
“I’m country—through and through,” Roger said proudly. “Lived on my family’s ranch outside Topeka since I was knee-high in hog shit.”
“A ranch in the middle of Kansas?” Teddy whistled. “I guess that the post-apocalypse lifestyle is an improvement for you then, isn’t it?”
“Watch it, hoss,” Roger said, chuckling. “I know over a thousand insults about Texans, but I don’t want to hurt your feelings on your first day.”
Both men laughed and walked deeper into the room.
Roger’s flashlight revealed family photographs and small mementos that were tacked to the cubical walls—photographs of people who were most likely decaying inside a mass grave somewhere.
Teddy lost his smile and plucked a photograph of a smiling family of four from one of the walls and stared down at it in the light with a frown. The boy in the photograph looked about Danny’s age. “It’s hard to believe just how fast things changed.”
“It is,” Roger said. He patted Teddy on the back. “But it’s no use reminiscing. Let’s keep moving along.”
Teddy pinned the picture back up on the cubical wall and looked over at the computer on the desk. “Shouldn’t we be unplugging all of the computers and whatnot?”
“We should, but we ain’t,” Roger answered as he kept walking.
“I don’t get it.” He gave him a quizzical glance and followed after him.
“What’s not to get?” Roger asked. “They want us to do a lot of work and I’m not fond of working for free.” He scanned the room with his light. “Plus they don’t even give us lunch and that really doesn’t sit well with me.”
“So what do you do the whole shift?”
“If I get paired off with the right person, I try to find a quiet room that’s out of the way so that no nosey cops or other do-good workers disturb me. After that, I kick back until they blow the signal for us to return back to the bus.” He started walking towards a row of closed office doors past the file cabinets. “Like I told you on the bus, it’s an easy day since we’re working inside.”
“I’m not a fan of laziness, but then again I’m not a
fan of working for free either,” Teddy said with a grin.
Roger chuckled. “I figured that we’d be in agreement on that.” He pointed at his RFID implant. “We’ll have to get up and move around every now and then so that it doesn’t look too suspicious on radar, but I doubt that the people staring at the screens are paying much attention. They’re more concerned about watching people leave the work zone. Escapes and all that, you know?”
Teddy looked down at the bulge under his forearm where the implant was located and sighed. “Man, I feel so left behind with this technology bullshit.”
“It isn’t hard to figure out,” Roger said. “If my old country ass can figure it out, then you can too.” He led Teddy around a corner and towards a larger area that had private offices and a break room. He focused his flashlight on the nearest closed door. “Do you think that this one is a winner?”
“Let’s see.” Teddy sauntered over, turned the knob, and swung the door open.
A musky scent of decay wafted from the darkened office. The decrepit remains of a man wearing a grey suit sat slouched in his chair behind a massive desk. He peered out at Teddy with hollowed eyes and a skeletal grin. Wads of used tissues covered the desk and were scattered on the floor.
“Poor bastard,” Teddy said as he cupped a hand over his mask, tightening the seal. “Should we move him?”
“We should, but we ain’t.” Roger pointed his light at another closed door. “Let’s try door number two.”
Teddy shut the door, walked over to the adjacent room, and turned the knob.
Roger pointed his flashlight inside.
Tall beige filing cabinets lined the rear wall and a bundle of rolled up blueprints were stacked on top of a wooden desk in the middle of the room. A door with a tarnished brass sign that read ‘35mm slide storage’ was in the corner.
The room didn’t appear to have been used for a very long time.
“Winner, winner, chicken dinner!” Roger exclaimed happily as he stepped into the room.
Teddy followed somewhat reluctantly, glancing over his shoulder.
“Don’t be a hayseed and just stand there! Close the door before someone else finds this place,” Roger said.
Teddy quickly closed the door and looked at Roger with a frown. “Are you sure they won’t find us in here? I’m getting mighty tired of getting my ass kicked around by power-hungry goons.”
“The only two things in life I’m sure of is that I’m not getting any prettier and I’m not getting richer. Anything else, I couldn’t tell you one way or the other,” Roger said with a shrug. “All I know is that I haven’t gotten caught yet so the odds must be in my favor!”
Roger shoved the stack of blueprints off of the table and sent them tumbling down on the floor. A giant plume of dust rose up from the pile of papers.
Teddy waved his hand in front of his face, coughing behind his ineffective mask.
Roger left the flashlight powered on and sat it on the table. It lit up the room with a dim yellow glow. An uneasy quietness filled the room, but in the distance muffled shouts and cries for help could be heard as the officers apprehended squatters.
Teddy found the tense atmosphere unnerving and unfortunately familiar. “So what do we do now?”
Roger stood at the table and pulled out a weathered deck of playing cards and started shuffling them carefully. “Do you know how to play gin rummy?” he asked without looking up from the cards.
“No.”
“You’re gonna,” Roger said with a grin.
CHAPTER 6
Mark Hammond sat at a round conference table in what was once someone’s dining room. The dusty drapes were pulled shut across the windows and blocked out the afternoon sun. An ornate grandfather clock stood in the corner and its brass pendulum dutifully ticked away at the passing seconds.
Of all the other rooms in the drab, depressing house, Hammond hated the dining room most of all.
The dining room was where the higher-ups summoned him when they had bad news to share with him.
When the red phone rang in his office on that day, November 25th, just after 1:00 PM, it was just as he expected—bad news had arrived.
Hammond sat slouched at the only seat at the table which was surrounded by video conference monitors suspended from the ceiling.
Two agents from his personal security detail stood solemnly behind him with their hands behind their backs.
After the men on the video screens finished speaking for what felt to Hammond like hours, an uncomfortable silence lingered in the air. The repetitive tick-tock sound of the grandfather clock only served to make things worse.
He knew that they were waiting for his response.
Hammond stared up impassively at the video monitors.
The generals stared back at him. They all wore dress uniforms decked with full regalia.
Hammond, meanwhile, wore nothing more than his bathrobe and some slippers. He felt underdressed, but he really didn’t care. What did bother him was the look of disgusted pity that was evident in the men’s faces.
They stared at him as if he were the drunken uncle that ruined another family reunion, or as if he were some senile geriatric that they were tasked with caring for while he did nothing more than waste away and defecate himself.
Didn’t they know that he was once just like them?
He hadn’t always been a lush wallowing his depression away with whiskey.
He once had money.
He once had power.
He once—
“Do you understand the implications, Director Hammond?” one of the generals asked, breaking Hammond out of his train of thought.
Hammond frowned at the half-witted question.
After all, it wasn’t that hard to figure out.
There was an outbreak of cholera and typhoid at another camp—what else was new? What made matters worse, was the fact that those anti-government separatist assholes were rousing people up.
Judging by the drone footage that Hammond had been allowed to see, there was a fine shitshow unfolding over at Director Moll’s camp in Nebraska. Things were falling apart and if the camp fell, then the city that they were reconstructing would be the next domino to fall.
Apparently nobody at the top wanted to risk losing the fine city of Lincoln, Nebraska.
God only knew why.
In Hammond’s mind, Lincoln was about as worthless as Topeka—they were both insignificant dots on flyover states.
Moll’s camp needed more troops, ammunition, and food—three things that Hammond’s camp was badly in need of itself. A real fine shitshow indeed. Resources were to be diverted from Hammond’s camp since his was the closest and, according to the talking heads on the screens, the one that had the least security issues.
It was an ill-conceived decision made by a bureaucratic hive mind who was tucked away underground in a government bunker—hundreds of miles from here.
Nobody asked Hammond what he thought—they never did. They had forgotten about him as soon as they stuck him away in an old farmhouse smack dab in the middle of nowhere.
“Director Hammond!” the general shouted. “I asked you a question! Do you understand the implications?”
Hammond looked over at the screen.
The old general stared back with a reddened face and beady green eyes. Liver spots covered his bald head and wrinkles lined his cheeks.
It was ironic to Hammond how the virus had spared the cantankerous old man but saw fit to destroy his beautiful Laura.
For a brief second, he saw her ghostly visage in his mind’s eye.
He saw her pallid face staring up at him.
He felt the pillow in his hands.
Hammond took a hard swallow and pushed the image out of his mind. He never needed a drink as badly as he did at that moment. “I do…” He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair and attempted to slick it back off of his face. “It’s going to be a hard sell on my end…”
“Your people are compl
iant enough,” liver spots sneered.
“That’s because they’re fed,” Hammond spiritlessly replied. “If you take away the only leverage I have, then I am not sure if that will hold true.”
“This isn’t a negotiation,” one of the other generals replied in a cold and direct tone. “You have a surplus of food which is more than any other camp in the region can say. Logistically speaking, diverting from your camp makes the most sense… This is a temporary problem that will be resolved quickly.”
Hammond stared at the stern-looking man with the crewcut and knew that the man was lying. Problems were rarely temporary and hardly ever resolved.
At the onset of the pandemic, the dangers of the virus itself had been concealed from the public by silly platitudes.
Hammond recalled assuring his own constituents in packed town halls that things would be resolved quickly and that those who were sick would be on the mend if they followed the CDC’s advice. He knew all of the tired lines and it aggravated him that the man on the screen was trying to use one on him. Did they assume that he was a simpleton who would be pacified by utter nonsense?
“The people won’t understand logistics,” Hammond heard himself say in a surprisingly cross voice. “They understand food.”
“They’ll still have food,” a young general chimed in. “Just not as much. Implement winter rations. Go to one high-caloric meal a day. Once things settle and we refurbish the supplies, things can return to normal.”
Hammond looked over at the fresh-faced general and at the sly smirk that the kid had on his lips. How many vested veterans had to die during the sickness just so that kid had the opportunity to sit in a position he neither understood nor deserved?
“What about our Topeka settlement?” Hammond asked, ignoring the kid’s sardonic jab.
“Topeka operations will continue,” the old general with the liver spots responded. “Your fuel allotment for your motor fleet will continue as is.”
“And what of the research division?”
“Continue the work at all cost,” liver spots answered. “Their work is very important. If research needs more people, let us know and we will send more trains.”
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