South they went, through Paso Robles, San Luis Obispo, Santa Maria, and Santa Barbara. As they sped down the stretch of the 101 squeezed between the mountains and the ocean, north of Ventura, Martina began to wonder if she would end up chasing the woman all the way to Los Angeles.
The answer turned out be no. A few miles farther on, as they came around a bend, she heard a loud pop and saw the Jeep jerk left and right before slowing. The culprit was a piece of metal in the road that had ripped open one of the vehicle’s front tires. Martina would have hit it, too, if she hadn’t already clamped down on the brakes.
Before the Jeep came to a complete stop, the woman jumped out and ran down the middle of the road. Martina weaved her bike around the Jeep and caught up to the woman in seconds.
“Stop!” Martina yelled.
The woman looked at her, wild-eyed. “Leave me alone!”
“Stop, dammit. I only want to talk to you!”
The woman yelled something incomprehensible, then sprinted forward in a burst of energy.
Groaning in frustration, Martina brought her bike to a halt, pushed down the kickstand, and hopped off. The woman may have had a few seconds’ lead, but Martina was an active college athlete. Twenty steps down the road, she clamped a hand on the woman’s shoulder and forced her to stop.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Martina asked. “Why wouldn’t you stop?”
The woman struggled to get away, but Martina held on tight.
“Let go of me! Let go!”
“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you!”
“Let go! I’m not going back. I swear to God I’m not!”
“Going back? Listen, lady, I’m not taking you anywhere. I just want to know how you got Ben’s Jeep and where he is.”
The woman stopped twisting around and looked at Martina, surprised. “Ben?”
“Yes! Ben. That’s his Jeep. How did you get it? Did he give it to you?”
“You know Ben?”
“I’m his girlfriend.”
“His girlfriend?”
“How did you get his Jeep?” Martina asked again, her patience all but gone.
“He, um, he didn’t need it anymore.”
There was sudden defiance in the woman’s voice, and Martina knew in that instant Ben hadn’t given it to her.
She gave the woman’s arm a jerk. “What do you mean, he didn’t need it anymore?”
“He’s dead,” the woman said, sticking out her chin. “He didn’t need it anymore because he’s dead.”
Martina’s grip on the woman’s shoulder slipped as every cell in her body went numb. “You’re lying,” she managed, her voice cracking.
“I’m not,” the woman said quickly. “He’s dead. I’m sorry, but he didn’t need the Jeep anymore.” She nodded back toward the vehicle. “You want it? Take it. I don’t care.”
Martina continued to stare at the woman. “He can’t be dead. He can’t be. How…how did—”
“The flu. Everybody’s dying from the flu. Don’t you know?”
“But that’s not possible. If it didn’t take me, it shouldn’t have taken him.”
The woman crossed her arms. “I don’t know what to tell you. He’s dead. Can I go now?”
Martina’s mind reeled as she tried to think of an alternative answer, something that would make what the woman said not true.
“His body,” she said, grabbing on to a sliver of light. “Did you actually see it? Do you even know Ben?”
“Of course I know him. I…I went to school with him in Santa Cruz. So, yeah, I saw his body.”
Martina’s peripheral vision began to dim. She swayed and half fell, half sat on the freeway.
“You’re wrong,” she whispered. “You’ve got to be wrong.”
She repeated it over and over.
When she finally looked up, wanting to ask the woman where his body was, the woman was gone.
Martina jumped up and ran back to her bike. “Hey! Hey, where did you go?
She had to find the woman. She needed to know where Ben’s body was. She had to see it for herself.
She started the engine and drove slowly away, her eyes searching both sides of the road.
“Hey! Come back! Where is he? You’ve got to tell me where he is!”
Her mind was so focused on the woman and Ben that she didn’t realize her friends had yet to show up.
ISABELLA ISLAND, COSTA RICA
4:40 PM CST
“EVERYONE QUIET, PLEASE,” Robert said, his hands raised high in front of him. “We can’t all talk at the same time.”
“Do we even know if this shot they gave us works?” someone shouted.
“Who are these people? I mean, it sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me,” another said.
“What if they’re right? What if there is no UN?”
“Please,” Robert said again, raising his voice. “Quiet down!”
All one hundred and twenty-nine Isabella Island survivors were gathered in the restaurant dining room at the very top of the hotel, the same room where Dominic had told them all about the outbreak, what seemed like years ago to Robert.
When the roar subsided to a rumble, Robert said, “I realize this isn’t what you expected to hear, but I felt it important to tell you exactly what we were told. Before you go forming too many judgments, though, let’s consider some facts. We all saw the shipping containers on TV. We saw the boxes releasing Sage Flu. We saw people dying, and governments going into emergency mode before the news finally went off the air. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say things only got worse after that.
“The thing is, we know this wasn’t a natural occurrence. Someone did this. Someone with a huge, well-organized operation. So you’ve got to think whoever these people are, they’ve planned on still being around. To me, it makes sense that they would want to run whatever was left.”
“Sounds like you’ve already made up your mind to believe this guy,” a guest named Phil Gatner said. “What if they’re the ones who put the virus out there? What if they’re the ones who want to kill us?”
“I guess it’s possible,” Robert admitted. “But it’s been hours since we received our shots, and if they wanted us dead, we would be already.”
Several people shouted questions and comments.
Robert raised his hands again. “Please! One at a time.”
__________
PAX HOVERED OUTSIDE the restaurant door for the first several minutes of the meeting. He had offered to speak to everyone himself, but both he and Robert agreed it would be better coming from someone the people of Isabella Island knew.
Pax did, however, decide to stay on the island while the medical team moved on to help others. Since this was the largest single group the Resistance had found so far, making sure they did everything they could to stay safe was a priority. He hoped the fact that he was willing to remain here by himself would convince them to take his warning seriously.
When it was clear the meeting was going to last awhile, he wandered out to the deck.
Pax loved the mountains. He couldn’t get enough of the Rockies, felt at home anytime he saw them, whether in Alberta, Montana, Wyoming, or Colorado. But the view here of the palm trees and the beaches and the sparkling sea did give the scenery up north a run for its money. He felt he could probably get used to it. It was hot here, too. That was a bonus that would take no getting used to at all.
He leaned against the railing, a gentle breeze blowing across his shoulders, and wondered if there might be other islands like this one, where groups had survived because of their isolation. The more he considered it, the more he thought there had to be. The Project Eden assholes had missed this place. They were bound to have missed others.
He hoped he was right.
For several more minutes, he watched the waves break near the shore and the water lap against the tan beach. He was starting to push himself up, thinking he should go back and check how the meeting was going, when something on the horizon
caught his attention.
__________
“THERE’S NOT ENOUGH information,” Maureen Johnston said. “How are we supposed to decide what to believe without all the facts?”
“Exactly how are you expecting us to get all those facts?” Kim Sutter countered.
“I don’t know. I’m just saying we need to make the correct decision.”
“What are you, an idiot?” Kim said. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Hey!” Robert said. “Let’s try to keep it civil, okay?”
“I’m sorry,” Kim said. “But, Robert, you know there’s no way to know all the facts.”
“We’re only hearing people out right now,” Robert said. “Who was next?”
Several dozen hands shot up. Robert pointed at a German guy named Herman Wolfe.
“In my opinion, we are missing a very important point,” Wolfe said. “If there is no United Nations, then what will take—”
The door at the back of the room flew open and Pax ran in.
“Robert, may I see you for a moment?” he said.
“We’re still in the middle—”
“Please.”
Pax looked distressed, so Robert nodded and said to the group, “You all have plenty to talk about amongst yourselves. We can pick this up when I come back.”
Loud conversations immediately broke out all over.
When Robert reached Pax, he said, “What’s going on?”
Pax put a hand on his back and started leading him to the door. “Not here.”
They walked out of the dining room and into the open-air lobby.
“Where do you keep the radio?” Pax asked.
“Downstairs, behind the bar.”
“Are all your food supplies up here in the restaurant?”
Robert shook his head. “No, in the kitchen by the bar.”
“Okay, then we’re going to need a few people.”
“Will you tell me what’s going on?”
“I will, but first grab four or five folks you trust, and let’s get down to the bar.”
Robert returned to the dining room and rounded up Enrique, Chuck, Estella, and Manny Aguilar.
“What’s going on?” Renee asked as he was leaving again.
“I’m not sure. Just keep everyone occupied. I won’t be long.”
Pax led the group down to the bar, and let Robert show them the rest of the way to the radio room.
“All right, fire it up,” Pax said. “There’s a plane out there. We need to find out who they are.”
“A plane?” Chuck said. “More of your people?”
“Let’s hope so, but I doubt it.”
Robert activated the radio and pushed the talk button. “This is Isabella Island calling unidentified aircraft. Do you read me?”
Static.
“Try again,” Pax said.
“Isabella Island calling unidentified aircraft. Come in, please.”
No response.
“You sure you have it set right?” Pax asked.
“This is the same frequency we used to talk to your plane and the one that said it was from the UN the other day,” Robert told him.
Pax looked like it was the answer he was expecting but didn’t want. “Do you have any duct tape? Plastic sheeting?”
“What?”
“Do you have any?”
“Um, there’s probably duct tape in the maintenance room, but no sheeting that I know of. Pax, what the hell’s going on?”
“What about tarps?”
“Yeah. We have tarps, but—”
“You and I will go to the maintenance room.” Pax turned to the others. “You four grab as much food as you can and take it up to the restaurant, things that will be easy to make and can stretch for a couple of days for everyone. You probably have time for two trips at most.”
“You’ve got to tell us what’s going on!” Robert said.
“That plane,” Pax said. “I’m pretty sure that’s your ‘UN’ friends coming back. And I can guarantee you if it is, they’re not bringing you vaccine.”
__________
THE ISABELLA ISLAND survivors nearly went into full revolt when they saw all the supplies being carried in.
“Listen up,” Pax said. “I realize many of you don’t believe a word I told Robert, but here’s your chance to get your proof to see whether I’m lying or not. We have a plane heading this way. If it just flies by and doesn’t cause any problems, then you can lock me up or put me in a boat and shove me out to sea.”
“What do you think they’re going to do?” someone asked.
“If I’m right, your island is about to be doused with the Sage Flu,” Pax said. “Now, if some of you would be so kind as to help us seal up the room, that would be appreciated.”
“That’s ridiculous!” someone yelled.
“Why are we even listening to him?”
“What if he’s telling the truth?”
Robert jumped up on a chair. “Seems to me we’ll know soon enough if he’s lying or not, so it’s not going to hurt us any to do as he asks. Who’s going to help?”
Several hands shot up. After Robert divided them into groups of three, they began working their way through the room.
They were nearly finished with the last window when they heard the drone of the approaching plane. Pax applied the last bit of tape, and then he and Robert went over to where the others were sitting.
The sound of the plane continued to grow louder and louder until it passed not more than a hundred feet directly above them. After it flew by, one of the survivors cocked his head to the side, and then several others did the same.
The sound was soft, almost nonexistent, like the gentlest of rains.
Pax moved over to one of the windows and peeled back the corner of the tarp. Liquid dripped down the outside of the glass. As he motioned for Robert to join him, the plane approached the island again.
“Don’t get too close,” Pax said. “Just a quick look.”
He lifted the flap again.
“Is that it?” Robert asked.
Pax nodded. “All wrapped up in a nice little liquid delivery system the people you thought were from the UN developed for stubborn locations like yours.”
The plane flew overhead again, spattering more of the liquid onto the window.
Pax looked up toward the noise. “Another fifteen minutes and they’ll have covered every inch.”
“Why would they do that?” one of the guests asked.
“They’re in charge now,” Pax said. “You’re excess humanity, and not part of their plan.”
Robert was quiet for a second. “The flu won’t hurt us, though. We’ve been inoculated.”
“You have, and chances are you’d be fine, but you only received your shots a few hours ago. It’s better if we let your immunity build up a bit more. Besides, that’s quite a concentration they’re dumping out there right now. We need to let it thin.”
“So how long do we have to stay in here?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll check in with the medical team. They can give us a timeline.”
Robert scanned the room “You think this place is safe?”
“Safer than being out there.”
29
ALAMOGORDO, NEW MEXICO
6:49 PM MST
ASH HAD BEEN positive they would find the Resistance convoy in Truth or Consequences, but they had searched all the logical places the others could have been, and there was no sign of them.
Having no choice but to move on, they headed for Alamogordo, a trip that took them two and a half hours. When they arrived, they began working their way through town.
“Try this one,” Chloe said as they approached 10th Street.
“Yes, ma’am,” Sorrento said, and took the turn.
“Anything?” Ash asked a few moments later.
“Nothing over here,” Chloe said.
“I don’t see anything,” Gardiner threw in.
Ash looked toward the back
of the truck. “What about you?”
“All looks the same to me,” Rick said.
Ash hadn’t wanted to bring the kid along, but leaving him behind with Brandon didn’t seem like a good idea, either. Davis would have probably been able to keep Rick in check, but Ash thought it was better not to tempt fate. When Brandon asked why Rick was allowed to go but he wasn’t, Ash had said, “Because he’s sixteen and you’re not.”
“Hey, what’s that?” Gardiner said.
He was sitting behind Sorrento, his gaze locked on a parking lot, left of the vehicle. While Sorrento slowed the truck, both Ash and Chloe adjusted their positions so they could see out Gardiner’s side.
“What are you looking at?” Chloe asked.
“Up there, near the building. Gas cans, I think.”
He was right. In the floodlights that still lit up the parking lot, Ash could see over a dozen cans stacked side by side.
“Let’s check it out,” he ordered.
Sorrento pulled into the lot and stopped. As Ash and Chloe hopped out, they were greeted by a blast of frigid air, the temperature having taken a drastic downturn since their last stop. The only question now was whether they would have a wet snow or an icy rain when the storm decided it was time to open up.
Chloe knelt next to one of the cans and tilted it toward her. “These look like the same type we picked up in Sheridan.” She unscrewed the cap and gave it a sniff. “This one was full recently.”
“Looks like they were here,” Ash said.
“Only one way they could have gone.”
“Yep.”
NB219
7:49 PM MST
WICKS READ THROUGH the report again, but still found he couldn’t focus on the words, his mind understandably preoccupied. Knowing it wouldn’t be any better if he tried again, he clicked the box indicating he’d read and approved it, and sent it on its way.
He glanced at the clock in the top corner of his screen. It was time to go. He opened the bottom desk drawer, reached underneath it, and pulled off the envelope he’d taped there. He stood up, stuffed the envelope in his pocket, and left his office.
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