The Newcomers: a novel of global invasion , human resilience, and the wild places of the planet

by Pamela Jekel

  She chuckled in the darkness, “Check this out!” A bag of beef jerky and a jumbo box of fruit rollups appeared.

  “Can you see if there’s anything like medical supplies? An emergency kit or something?”

  She popped her head out again and eased her way on her side until her hips cleared. “Nothing else.”

  “Good job,” Skylar said, patting Miranda’s leg. “I wonder why nobody else thought to do this?”

  “Probably too dangerous to take the time, I guess,” Jack said. “Only the older cars have access to the trunk through the backseat like this. Plus they’d need a pretty small kid to access the space. How do you feel?” Her face was back to normal color now, tanned and dry of sweat.

  “Okay. How’ll we carry all this stuff?”

  Miranda was ripping into a Snickers bar. “That won’t be a problem,” she said, cramming half of it into her mouth and licking the melted chocolate off the wrapper.

  “Is it still good?” Sky asked.

  Miranda just moaned in answer.

  Jack took the knife and cut the leather seat into a satchel-sized pouch, pulling out the stuffing.

  “Hey, we can use that for a pillow,” Sky said, snatching it away from him.

  They packed the food and the rest of the supplies in their backpacks, Jack tied the leather pouch at his waist, and they started up the road to Athens again. The sun was hot, and the silence of the land around them was unnerving, Jack thought, as they walked. Empty buildings, most of them trashed, abandoned cars, many of them broken into, with jagged windshields and flat tires. Trash littered the highway, the parking lots, the buildings, like Mexico City or Haiti. Garbage everywhere, beer cans, wine bottles, plastic junk, burnt tires, gnawed bones, abandoned underwear and socks, worn-out shoes, rags, human dung, the debris of a broken people.

  Jack recalled something he’d read by Edward Abbey about how strange and wonderful this earth was. Our home. With its flowing rivers and frozen glaciers, its giant trees and trillions of tiny green miracles, its dazzling creatures, its mysterious seas, wide oceans of grass. Abbey said that any Martian or Venusian would surely find it wild and rich and beyond the power of any god to create, and yet we humans had the nerve, the insolence, the balls to whine about life on this planet and yearn for something more perfect in the next life. Abbey was right, Jack thought. None of us was good enough for this world, and yet we dream of heaven. No doubt we’ll try to fuck that up, too. Like Einstein said, two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and he wasn’t sure about the universe. Maybe we’re the aliens, Jack mused, sent here from some other planet to colonize earth. What was our mission? We forgot it long ago.

  Sky was powering along, scarcely looking to the left or right. Clearly, she was fueled by anger these days. Whatever it took. Miranda kept pulling food out of her backpack, munching, and then dropping the wrapper on the road unthinkingly. He could hardly reprove her for it. It would be easier to survive without a wife and kid, that was certain. People should be like creosote plants, Jack thought. The creosote secreted a poison in its roots that killed anything trying to grow around it, even its own seeds. That way, each plant preserved a safe perimeter of open space and whatever water was within its reach for survival. A dead zone. When the creosote got to be about ninety years old, it split its crown, the old crown died, and the new crown was the clone of the old plant. No sex, no progeny. No payments on a house, cars, medical insurance, school tuitions, trips to Europe, flat screens, and athletic clubs. Instead of husband and father, he could just be King Clone. With one part of his brain, he noticed how scattered the other parts had become.

  He watched Miranda out of the corner of his eye. Clearly, she was delighted with herself in the moment. Her mouth was full of sugar, her belly was satisfied, and her feet just kept moving irrepressibly. What did it take to kill a child’s spirit forever? What kinds of monsters would kill all the babies? He didn’t want to know.

  As dusk began to intrude on his consciousness, he moved his family off the road and into the trees to make camp. He estimated they were less than ten miles from his father’s house. No fire, of course, but they were able to make themselves comfortable under some low pines, well-hidden from the open field. Someone would have to walk almost onto them to find them.

  “We should sleep in the cars,” Miranda said.

  Jack shook his head. “I think we’re better off out in the open. We’re coming into a big city now, and we’ll have to be more careful. If we have to run for it, this is better than being in a car. Pass me one of those Power Bars, kitten.”

  They took pleasure in completely disdaining their MRE portions and plowing their way through the beef jerky, candy bars, and dried fruit. Full and happy, Miranda fell asleep almost between bites.

  “She should brush her teeth,” Sky said.

  “Maybe the jerky will rub off the sugar. We might regret this next year, when we’re trying to find a way to pull a tooth out of her head.” He reached for another candy bar. “What was going on with you today?’

  She shrugged. “Who knows; who cares. Maybe I’m just sick of being dragged around by the Little Engine that could.”

  “Have you had a period lately?’

  She thought about it. “No, not for a few months, I guess. I just figured I wasn’t getting enough calories.”

  “Could it be menopause?”

  She barked a harsh laugh. “You mean, because I’m pissed off? Therefore, I must be menopausal?” She shook her head. “Christ, does it ever end? The world can come to a crashing halt, and if a woman acts distressed, it must be hormones. Not because her kids are dead, not because she’s starving, not because she’s likely not going to live out the year, but because she’s hormonal.”

  He looked sheepish. “I guess you’re right. But I still think it might be. The pissed-off status is nothing new, but I’ve never seen your face so red.”

  “Well, start feeding me regular, and I guess we’ll see soon enough. Do you think we’re going to have trouble when we get closer to the city?”

  He hesitated. “Father Hudson had some pretty ugly things to say when you and Miranda went out to the latrine.”

  She stiffened. “Tell me.”

  He sighed. “Well, everything he said is mostly hearsay, because he didn’t see it all himself, of course. And it was last year, before the Army cleared this place out.”

  “Go on.”

  “I guess it got pretty bad. You know, they opened all the prisons. Wouldn’t feed the inmates, just put them on the street. So it got brutal fast. He said that girls not much older than Miranda fought each other for the privilege of being sex slaves to the strongest men. Other men paid to watch them fight.”

  “Oh my God.” She closed her eyes. “What happened to the ones who didn’t win?”

  “They were sold off to the highest bidders.”

  She began to weep. He moved to take her in his arms, and she pushed him away. “How will we protect her? What’s your plan, Jack? Tell me that. How are you going to keep her from those kinds of sick fucks?”

  “I'm going to make sure she doesn’t fall in their hands,” he said. “Or you either.”

  She wept harder now, covering her face. He put his arms around her again, ignoring her weak attempt to push him off. Finally as she calmed, she turned her body into his. “You think they’re all dead now?”

  “Or moved on. We haven’t seen anything that makes me think that these roads are patrolled by scavengers. Maybe the Army really did get them cleaned out.”

  She finally let him hold her.

  The next morning, they walked east again towards Athens until they came within sight of a blockade across the road. The placement of the blockade had been chosen well. A tall hotel building crowded one side, and a large office building edged the other. It would be difficult to go around the barrier, and once within range, anyone on the road would be a target from several high windows. Cars had been piled up on top of each other to make the barricade,
and on both sides of the road, the cars were higher than twenty feet, erected into what appeared to be lookout towers. Most likely, whoever manned those towers had seen them coming well before they saw the blockade.

  To one side of the blockade, in a small copse of oaks, four crow-ravaged bodies hung from the lower branches. Each body had a hand-lettered sign hung around its canted neck: “LOOTER.” There were pillowcases over their sideways-tipped heads, some of them in faint floral pastel patterns, which made their slowly turning bodies all the more macabre. As they passed the bodies, they could smell the distant stench of decay, but it was faint, as though the bodies had dangled for a good while.

  Jack put Skylar behind him, Miranda to the rear, and they kept walking. Jack made sure his hands were visible at all times.

  When they were two hundred feet away, a voice shouted, “Stop where you are! Identify yourself!”

  Jack held out his hands from his body. “My name is Jack Cummings!” he shouted. “I am bringing my family home to Athens!”

  “Like hell,” the voice growled. “Turn around and go back to Atlanta!”

  “I grew up in Athens! My parents live here!”

  There was a long silence; evidently the guard or guards conferred.

  “Put your packs on the ground and move forward,” the voice then commanded.

  Miranda whimpered, “Dad, let’s just go someplace else.”

  “There isn’t anyplace else, kitten,” Jack said. “We have to expect that most places are going to be guarded like this.”

  They set their packs on the ground, and they walked closer to the barricade. Jack could see now that there were at least two rifles aimed at them, one from a high window, one more from behind the piled cars. As they came closer to the blockade, the voice called, “Kneel on the ground and put your hands on your head!”

  Jack slowly kneeled, still keeping Miranda behind him. They all kneeled and put their hands on their heads. “Miranda,” he murmured, “if I tell you to, run as fast as you can over to that wooded area and hide. Run in a zig-zag, and don’t come out, no matter what you see or hear. Try to make it back to the chapel and Sister Catherine. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Daddy,” she said, her voice shaking.

  Jack raised his voice. “We are only here to see the graves of my parents. We have a home in Watkinsville, and we’re headed there. If you won’t let us stay and rest here, then at least let me visit my home one more time.”

  “How old is the girl?” A man stood up behind a car. He was tall, with a long dark beard, and a John Deere hat on his head. He had a rifle at his shoulder.

  Jack hesitated, feeling the fear rise in him fast and scalding. “Ten.”

  “You come from the camps?”

  “Yes.”’

  “That your wife?”

  John gestured to Skylar. “This is my wife, Skylar Cummings. Our daughter’s name is Miranda. We are healthy, hard-working people who are just trying to get back to our home. We have no diseases, we have no weapons, and we mean you no harm. I want to go to my parents’ house, see their graves, and then we’ll be on our way to Watkinsville. We have enough food for maybe three more days, and we ask nothing from you but passage.”

  The man turned to another man who had stood hidden behind the taller cars, but Jack could hear little of their discussion. The main guard then called out, “Where do your parents live?”

  “Bobbin Mill Road. Forty-eight Bobbin Mill Road. Off Milledge and Springdale.”

  Another conference. “You got ID?’

  Jack thought quickly. “The wrist tags from the camp, that’s all.”

  “Okay, pick up your packs and come forward.”

  Skylar asked, “Jack, is this worth it?”

  “I sure hope so,” he replied.

  They shouldered their packs again and walked closer to the barricade. They were directed to come through a narrow opening between two cars to the other side, where they were met by the two men who had allowed them entrance. “You’re Jack Cummings?” one of the men asked. “Your father was Ted Cummings?”

  “Yes,” Jack said, bewildered. “Did you know my father?”

  The man shook his head. “No, we’ve got the tax rolls, though, so we know who lived where. Let’s see your ID.”

  Jack passed the wrist tags to him. He read them carefully and passed them back. He looked Miranda over. “You need some water?’

  “Yes please,” she said.

  He passed them an old Gatorade jug full of water, and they filled their cups. The man smiled for the first time. “You’re one of the youngest yet. You must be one tough little girl to have made it this far.”

  Skylar gulped the water, took Miranda’s hand, and asked, “May we go, then?” Her voice was frigid. “We’d like to get to Jack’s house and rest, if that’s okay with you.”

  “That’s fine with me,” the man said, shrugging. “First, you gotta hear the rules. Anyone who loots or trespasses’ll be shot. No trial, no clemency, no exceptions. Curfew is dark. Anybody outside after dark’ll be shot. We quarantine all strangers, no exceptions. You’ll be escorted to your father’s house, and you can’t leave for one week. You got enough food for one week?”

  “No, I said I didn’t,” Jack replied. “We only have enough food for three days.”

  “Therefore, you gotta stay at the house, and one of our workers’ll leave food and water at your door for four days. You can go in the yard, but you can’t leave the property, got it?”

  “What if they forget to leave the food?” Sky asked.

  “This ain’t our first rodeo, ma’am. Don’t expect no mints on your pillow, but we’ll leave food. You just be sure you follow the rules. At the end of the quarantine if Council approves you, you’ll be assigned a job, just like everybody else in town. What did you do before the Day?”

  Jack said, “I was a mechanical engineer for Lockheed Martin.”

  The man nodded. “And you, ma’am?’

  “I worked for Holiday Inn,” Sky said.

  “As what?”

  “Management.”

  He grimaced. “Business major. Don’t need much of those anymore. Got any other skills?”

  She hesitated. “I can sew.”

  “Not much use for that neither. Every closet’s still full of clothes; looters didn’t bother with those much. But we’ll find a job for you, don’t worry. If the Council lets you stay, that is.”

  “Are you a soldier?” Miranda asked.

  “You betcha, little lady,” the man said. “I’m a citizen soldier. Now, you said you don’t have any weapons, but we still got to search your packs.”

  Jack stiffened. “How do we know you won’t take our stuff?”

  “You don’t. Open them up.” The other man opened Jack’s pack, found the knife, and set it aside. In Skylar’s pack, they found food, her bedroll, a hairbrush and toothbrush, and a mirror. In one fold, they found a tampon. The man held it up and then set it aside with no comment. In Miranda’s pack, they found her cache of Snickers bars, soft and melted from the heat. The inspector glanced at her with new respect and set one bar aside. He picked up the knife and the Snickers bar and said, “You can repack your bags now.”

  “I need my knife,” Jack said.

  “That’s your entry tax,” the man said. “Everybody gives up something to the town.”

  “And the Snickers?” Sky had her hands on her hips.

  “That’s my fee for inspecting strangers,” he said. “Dangerous job, lady. Johnny!” He gestured to a young black man who was watching from the corner of the barricade. “Escort these fine folks to Bobbin Mill Road.”

  “What if we can’t get in the house?” Sky asked.

  He chuckled. “Oh, you’ll be able to get in, alright. You’ll get the rest of the rules with your food. See you ‘round.”

  Johnny led them to a truck, and they piled in the back. “You have gas?” Jack asked.

  “None a’ your business,” the boy said. “If they let you stay, yo
u find out all you got to know.”

  Silently, they rode through the southern outskirts of Athens. Many of the homes had obvious break-in damage, but some did not. Most looked empty, but the trash levels on the streets were not quite as bad as on the open road. They saw no lights on in any buildings. A few people walked among the houses, and they stared with frank curiosity. The emptiness of the streets no longer seemed strange. Some vehicles were parked in proper order, as if they might have been used recently. People returned their stares, and one woman working out in her yard actually lifted her hand and waved.

  “She smiled at me.” Miranda grinned and waved back.

  “Yes, she did, kitten,” Jack said. “At least they seem to be eating regularly.”

  They arrived at Jack’s old house, and the young man came around to open the tailgate, but then he stepped back away from them. “Somebody be comin’ by to see to you,” he said, and he got in and drove off. Jack walked up the steps to the house slowly, half-expecting to see his mother come out the door with open arms to greet them as she always did. The front windows were unbroken, but the door hung slightly ajar. They walked inside silently. Furniture was shoved aside, some small pieces turned over. Pictures on the walls were askew, several of them on the floor with smashed glass. The flatscreen was still on the wall, useless as his mother’s fancy lamps and Hunter ceiling fans.

  They walked through the dining room to the sliding door and outside. The pool was almost empty, with a foot of water in the bottom, green and muddy with debris. A bloated possum floated on the surface. “Over there,” Jack said, pointing to two slightly-raised mounds in the garden. There were no markers. “I’m glad it’s not so overgrown, I can’t find them.” And then he began to weep, surprising all of them. He covered his eyes with his hands.

  Miranda leaned against him and put her arm around his waist. “It’s okay, Dad,” she said. “It’s okay to cry.”

  Skylar sank to her knees. “I guess this makes it real.” Her eyes welled, and she absently pulled a few weeds off one of the graves. “At least they get to be together.”