Pipe Dreams

by Destiny Allison

  “Where you goin’?” Michael called.

  “I’ll be right back. I have to get something.” She headed for the barracks and the small, red pack that carried the journal she had kept for years.

  Michael lumbered behind her. When he joined her on the cot, he was breathless.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Something’s bothering me. I wanted to check something in my journal,” Vanessa replied. The journal was spread open on her lap, its cramped code a mystery to everyone but her.

  “You wanna talk?” he asked, taking her hand.

  “No. Not yet. I have to piece it together first.”

  “Okay. You wanna walk?”

  “I’d like that.” She smiled at him, standing.

  Outside, they followed the path to the lake. The sun warmed the grass. Butterflies and bees flicked to and fro, drinking nectar from the wildflowers. In the distance, a crow cawed. The world smelled green and alive. Michael led her off the path and into a small hollow. At a log, halfway down the gentle slope, they sat. Waves rippled on the lake, catching the light.

  “Last night, I wasn’t expectin’ that,” Michael said, twisting grass.

  “No. Neither was I,” Vanessa replied, blushing.

  “You wanna talk about it?”

  “Can we not? Can it just be?”

  “Yeah, girl. It can just be.” He pushed a stray lock of hair away from her face and pulled her close.

  Leaning her head against his stomach, she closed her eyes and let the sun warm her. Her journal was in her pocket, but she did not pull it out. Michael caressed her hair, playing with the strands. After a time, he took out his own notebook and began to write. The scratching of his pen was a lullaby. Birds cried and insects buzzed. A gentle breeze stirred the grasses. In the hollow, a frog croaked. Vanessa shifted, getting more comfortable, and dozed until a voice called out, beckoning her to Colonel McGrath’s office.

  CHAPTER 38

  Lt. Commander William S. Collins was never called that by those who knew him well. That name had belonged to his father, a celebrated veteran who had died in the noblest way. On a far away field, in a far away land, CoCo’s dad had thrown himself on a grenade to save his buddies from a similar fate. The picture on the mantel at home showed someone CoCo barely knew; a hero who had abandoned his family for his team. The unsmiling face in desert camouflage was an icon. The son, in life, would never measure up to what the father had achieved in death, though god knows he tried.

  And he was trying now. It was a shit mission. The intel was sketchy at best and his team was short – missing a medic, a demo guy, and the new guy, Joe. Joe had taken the refugees back to base. In that instantaneous decision, CoCo had sent back the man he trusted least, but in hindsight it may have been a mistake. Joe’s expertise was in demolition. Given the way things were going, his skill might be necessary. When all else failed, the military used explosives.

  To compound things, their only known target had turned up dead. Without another solid lead, they had no choice but to engage in recon. If they were seen inside the city, the consequences would be catastrophic. Some heavily populated area on the mainland would suffer horribly from their mistake. People would die – lots and lots of people. As team leader, CoCo had to make sure that didn’t happen. The mission’s success was his responsibility.

  He opened his map, studying the maze of pipes and tunnels that ran under the city. They offered the only real chance of getting anywhere without detection, but his run-in with the refugees had shaken even that slim plan. Currently, his team was hunkered down in an offshoot of the main sewer line, not far from the rabbi’s house. The narrow pipe dead-ended under the public restrooms in the park across the street. Without drainage grates or utility hatches connected to it, the pipe was an ideal temporary base.

  The team sat in a line, leaning against the wall. An electric lantern illuminated the cramped space, casting a weak light. CoCo glanced at his watch and made a quick mental calculation. It had been dark for an hour. In two more it would be safe to surface and go exploring. He opened a ration and settled himself more comfortably.

  For almost twenty-four hours, trucks had rumbled above him. A snake camera, attached to the metal grating on a utility hatch in the street above the main, and operated by wireless remote control, had given him a partial view of the scene. Men in military uniforms had rooted people out of buildings and loaded them into army transports. The few who had tried to flee had been shot. The situation on the ground was hostile, but in the last few hours, activity had ceased. The trucks were gone and the camera revealed no evidence of life. If people were up there, they were too scared to come out – which suited CoCo just fine. The team needed to search the rabbi’s house and didn’t need prying eyes.

  After eating, he called out to Roger Malone, an old friend and his best intelligence officer. Malone was the king of gizmos. If CoCo needed information, Malone was the go to guy.

  “Anything new on the screen?” CoCo asked.

  “Nada.”

  “I’m gonna grab some shuteye. Wake me if you see anything.”

  “Will do,” Malone replied. Unlike some, he seldom said, “Roger that.” The only time he did was in a bar, scoping out some sweet babe. It had been a running joke between them since boot camp.

  CoCo closed his eyes, willing himself to relax. He wasn’t asleep long before Malone called out, “Hey, you’re going to want to see this.” The intelligence officer gestured at the small screen in his lap. CoCo roused himself, leaning over to look at the image. A slight, bald headed girl crept in their direction. CoCo recognized her instantly. Her injuries had softened him earlier. The bruises and shaved head, on someone so young and pretty, had infuriated him. When Joe radioed that she had fled, CoCo had admired her pluck. He, too, would have gone back for a friend instead of following Joe and the others to safety. Still, she knew the team was in the city and that made her a threat.

  “Shit,” he hissed. “Don, Bill, get up there! Don’t let her get away!” Before CoCo finished speaking, the two men were crawling back toward the sewer main. Half a block away, a maintenance hatch had already been rigged for easy escape.

  The camera had good range. On the small computer screen, the girl ducked and dodged, keeping low and in the shadows. Her image grew larger as she approached. Then it vanished. Malone adjusted the angle of the camera and she reappeared. Properly dressed in dark pants and a long sleeve shirt, she almost blended into her surroundings. Unfortunately her pale, white scalp glowed on the screen. CoCo almost wished she had worn a hat.

  The girl was heading to the rabbi’s house. The commander tapped his coms officer on the leg and nodded at the picture. Immediately, the information was radioed to the team heading to intercept her. Seconds later, the girl turned into the vestibule of the small Brownstone. CoCo’s men were right behind her – though the untrained eye would have been hard pressed to pick them out against the dark buildings lining the street. Pushing open the front door, the girl stepped inside and disappeared. The team followed and the camera display went static.

  CoCo was tense. Though he trusted his men, he was eager for confirmation that they had the girl. He breathed a small sigh when the coms officer announced, “Package arrived, Sir.” CoCo nodded, giving the signal to acknowledge.

  “Confirmed. Return is clear,” the radio sergeant said into the mic on his lapel.

  It took several, long minutes before the men reappeared in the pipe, pushing the girl in front of them. They had gagged her with tape and bound her hands with a plastic zip tie. CoCo raised an eyebrow.

  “She’s a fighter,” Don explained.

  “We had to carry her ’till we got into the pipe,” Bill chimed in, shrugging.

  “You gonna be good if we take the restraints off?” CoCo asked the girl. She nodded, but her eyes were fierce in the lantern light. “Okay, cut her loose,” he said. Don unsheathed a knife and sliced the hard plastic binding her thin wrists. The girl rubbed the
m for an instant before pulling the tape from her mouth with a swift tug.

  “Bastards,” she spat.

  CoCo smiled, leaning forward to face her. “So, we meet again.”

  “You? What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  Ashley hesitated only briefly. “I need your help. My friend is really sick. I think he might be dying. He needs medicine. I thought Isaac might have some – especially since you said he was one of them.” The words rushed out of the girl like an avalanche.

  “Slow down,” Coco said. “First, what’s your name?”

  “Ashley, but what for the love of god does that have to do with anything? Don’t you get it? I need help or I’ve got to go. Jeremy’s too big for me to move and he’s burning up. He can’t even stay awake and his body keeps jerking. I’ve got to find him some antibiotics. Mariah said he had to have them soon. If you’re not going to help, you have to let me go.”

  “What was happening today with the army trucks? Why were they rounding people up?” CoCo continued, as if he hadn’t heard anything she had said.

  “It’s a purge. That’s why I’ve got to get Jeremy some medicine. If they come back, they might find us. We’ve got to be able to move.”

  “What’s a purge?”

  Look, I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but please, either let me go or help me. Please! It’s really important.”

  “How far is he?” CoCo asked, buying time. Providing medical assistance to a sick man was so far off mission that ordinarily he wouldn’t consider it. Still, the girl knew more about the workings of the city than he did. She could be useful.

  “He’s not far. And he knows everything! He’ll help you find what you’re looking for if you can just help him.”

  “Can’t do that. Sorry. We don’t have the time or the manpower.”

  “Then you have to let me go. He’ll die!”

  “I’m sorry, Ashley. I can’t do that either. Like you said, you might be caught. Nobody can know we’re here.”

  Ashley’s eyes fixated on CoCo’s face. Before he registered her intention, she screamed. Bill clapped his hand over her mouth. She bit his palm and he cursed, tightening his grip. Twisting her head violently, she struggled against him.

  “Cut. It. Out,” CoCo said in a low and dangerous voice. Easing his knife out of the sheath on his chest, he held it up in the light. Ashley grew still.

  “We are here for one reason only. Do you understand?” CoCo asked. Ashley nodded.

  “Good. Now Bill is going to let you go and you are going to be quiet. I’m going to ask you some questions and you are going to answer them. Am I clear?”

  Again, the girl nodded. Bill relaxed his grip. Freed, Ashley wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “What is a purge?” CoCo demanded.

  “It’s when the soldiers come. The first time, they killed people. The second time they searched buildings and took weapons. This time, they’re taking people away.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where are they taking them?’

  “I don’t know that either.”

  “Okay, where do the soldiers come from?”

  “Look, I don’t know. They just come. What do you want from me?” Ashley cried. Tears formed in her big, blue eyes and her body trembled. CoCo ignored her distress and continued.

  “How do you know the rabbi?”

  “He came with Michael. They were friends. He taught me to play chess.”

  Malone interjected. “CoCo, this isn’t going anywhere.” The commander paused, considering.

  “Please. Jeremy knows way more than I do. He knows more than anybody. There’s a whole binder he keeps with maps and everything,” Ashley blurted, breaking the silence.

  “Maps of what?” CoCo asked.

  “The city, where the other cells are, the traps, everything!”

  “Traps?”

  “Yes. Traps. You know, for catching food.”

  “Why are you catching food? There are regular supplies coming into the city.”

  “Only the people in the NSO get that. We’re the Fallen, the outcasts. We have to find our own food,” she said. CoCo glanced at Malone, raising an eyebrow. This was not what he had expected.

  “Ashley, I need you to explain how things work here.” Ashley didn’t reply. Instead, she looked at her hands. Then, determined, she raised her eyes.

  “I’m not going to tell you anything else unless you promise to help Jeremy. You can kill me. You can tie me up and leave me here. I don’t care. But if you help him, I’ll help you and so will he. He’s our leader. He knows everything, or as much as anyone does. He’s smart and he’s been watching them. You need him.” Her voice was steady and firm. She had stopped trembling. Studying her silently, CoCo dipped his head in acknowledgement.

  “We’ll see what we can do. Derek, grab your kit. Don, Bill, you come with us. The rest of you stay here. Malone, keep your eyes out and let us know if anything happens.” The men prepared to leave, checking weapons and gear. Then they were crawling out of the pipe.

  “Hold up,” CoCo said, tapping Ashley on the rear. “Put this on.” He passed a black beanie into her outstretched hand and she tugged it over her shaved head. She smiled back at him.

  “Thanks. Didn’t think of that,” she whispered.

  When they got to the surface, Ashley led them into a narrow alley, flanked on both sides by tall buildings. A bright moon reflected on the worn and weathered brick, bathing the city in silver. Staying close to the wall, they moved in neat formation. After a short distance, she stopped to look and listen. Then she sprinted across a wide street, turned sharply, and slipped into a small alley between two decrepit storefronts still smoking from a recent fire. The building on the left was in bad shape. The fire had ravaged it, causing the front façade to crumble. Rubble covered the sidewalk in a wide arc.

  Though it had also suffered from the fire, the building on the right was less damaged. Heat still radiated from the walls, but that did not deter the girl. Halfway down the alley, she stopped again. This time she waited longer, cocking her head to catch any faint noise. Then she pressed her body sideways against the wall to her right and disappeared.

  CHAPTER 39

  McGrath rubbed the back of his neck. The morning had stretched into early evening and he still wasn’t done. The way the refugees had spoken of the NSO was eerie and he gave them high marks for their adaptation, organization, and survival. He wished he could meet the man they called Jeremy. It was certain they would not have fared so well without him. He was also grateful for the turn of events that had brought Vanessa into their midst. The information she had provided was invaluable. From his questioning, he thought he had a good understanding of what had transpired.

  His most recent communiqué from the SEALs had been baffling. They had picked up a party and the team had split. One half was maintaining surveillance at the rabbi’s house. The other was ensconced nearby and beginning interrogation. The team was not due to report again for a few hours. The cryptic message he received had irritated him, but limited contact was imperative. They could not risk the possibility of detection.

  He picked up the loose pages in front of him and reviewed them before compiling his own, shortened version of the interview transcripts. It took him over an hour to assemble a reasonable interpretation of events. When finished, he printed the pages on the small laser printer he kept in his office, bundled them together, and proceeded to the cafeteria for a well deserved cup of coffee.

  Choosing a table near the windows, he looked out over the lake’s choppy surface. Moonlight reflected in the small waves. McGrath sighed, took a sip from his cup, and rolled his neck. Stiff and aching, it refused to crack. For a moment, he visualized his wife’s strong hands on the unrelenting muscles. The image helped. He picked up the papers and reread his preliminary report.

  EYES ONLY

  To: General David L. Smith
>
  Army Intelligence Division

  From: Colonel Sean F. McGrath

  Ft. Terrence

  Sir,

  Based on interviews with twelve of the nineteen refugees from Edenton, NY, I have prepared a summary of testimonies for your review. It is as follows:

  The event that took place in Edenton, NY was precipitated by a group of men known as the designers. With one exception, the names and location of the designers are unknown. At present, we have identified Isaac Cohen as a member of this group. Recent intelligence has informed us Isaac Cohen is deceased.

  The designers were responsible for the hostile takeover six years ago. The violent episode was meticulously planned and served as a shock and awe attack that enabled them to implement a plan they had created over an unknown period of years. Based on witness testimony, the group has been meeting for decades, is well financed, educated, and possibly international (?).

  According to one witness, Ms. Vanessa Kovalic, the designers’ goal is to return mankind to a state of grace as described by the Old Testament. Their intention is to recreate the Garden of Eden through genetic modification of the human species. At present, they have achieved limited success on the island and are preparing to take their plan global by releasing an airborne version of the mutating virus. They call the virus Priscilla.

  From information gathered by this same witness, a current version of the virus has already infected some of the city’s population. The original Priscilla virus depends on behavioral controls. The behavior controls constitute the mandates of what is called The New Social Order (NSO). Under these mandates, strict moral expectations, combined with motivational components focused solely on fear and pleasure, ensure compliance within the affected population and guarantee the stability of the genetic modifications. Special Note: There is no information on whether the new Priscilla virus requires these same behavioral controls.