“You won't,” Billy told her.
She looped one arm across his chest and pulled herself closer. “Better not.”
He pulled her close with one arm and took a deep drag of his cigarette with his free hand. The stars continued their slow journey across the blackness. He felt her breathing change a few moments later, and he held her as she slept.
FOURTEEN
April 6th
Harlem NY: Adam
They had risen early and made the trek out to the strip area where car lots and small business dotted the sides of the feeder roads for what seemed like miles.
They had met no one along the way. Before nightfall, they had been driving a pair of new pickup trucks. John and Adam in one, Madison and Cammy in the other, weaving in and out of traffic heading back into the city.
They had ended up in a house over in Harlem, well away from the projects where the gangs seemed to be headquartered. They had had gas lanterns for light, the windows boarded over. They had decided it was too late in the day to head out so a place in the city would be safer. The house was close. The factory was out of the question, too deep in the city and its clogged streets to get back to.
They had been sitting around. Spirits raised, talking easily, but sometimes seriously about the world and the changes they had encountered. What it meant to them as individuals, as a society.
“I can't help but wonder what really happened,” John said.
“Fuck that,” Adam said. “Feels like a waste of time to me. I think the facts are right there. We got lied to. Either the meteor hit us, or the earthquakes, or both, and who cares. Doesn't mean shit except we are where we are. We could spend the rest of our lives trying to figure this shit out and never get it.”
Madison shuddered. “It messes me up... It really does.” Cammy's head lay against her breast, her arms around her holding her.
“Yeah,” Cammy agreed I do not want to be back where we were.” She raised her head from Madison's breast. “If...”
“Go on, baby,” Madison said after a few moments of silence.
“Well, if we have to we should have a pact. I mean... I mean I know you wouldn't let that happen to me again,” She looked at Maddy with wide eyes, “But,” she raised her head. “We should have a pact to not let that sort of thing happen to any of us, right?”
“Right,” Adam agreed. “Right.”
“Oh bullshit,” John said.
“If I ever have to, I won't hesitate,” Madison had said, “If they get me I'll pull the plug... If I'm too fucked up to pull through, I'll do myself, but...” She had shuddered and grimaced at the same time. “I'll do it myself, but it would be nice to know if I couldn't one of you would.”
“Absolutely,” Adam agreed. “Same as I would expect one of you to do it for me. Let's face it if you're bad off, if the injury is bad, there is nothing else for it... It's not like there are hospitals... Cops, law... And if those fuckers get us, well... Isn't that the same as dead already? I mean if there is absolutely no way out?”
“Same as,” Madison agreed. “I would do it in a minute for you, just like you would do it for me. I... I know you would, right?” she held Adam's eyes.
“I would,” Adam agreed.
“I would,” Cammy agreed. I wouldn't like it, but I would.”
“In-fucking-credible,” John said.
“Dude,” Adam said. “Why in fuck is it that you have to always be on the disagreement side of shit every time?”
“Oh, I didn't know black men used dude like that.” John shot back.
Adam's tongue came out and licked at his lips. He spun the cap slowly from a pint of whiskey he carried, and took a drink. “You got that one. One is what you get. Don't forget I said that.”
John's mouth opened and then snapped shut.
Silence held momentarily, and then the conversation restarted between Cammy and Madison. Soon John and Adam were drawn back into it.
They passed the small bottle back and forth. Nobody wanted to really get wasted, it was too important to have your wits about you, but the constant vigilance was enough to make anyone crazy.
“Gotta piss... Has to be a bathroom here somewhere,” John said as he got up from the kitchen floor.
“Thanks for sharing,” Cammy said from beside Madison.
“Any ti...”
The sound of splintering wood and a heavy crash came, cutting off his words, as he fell through a rotted section of floor in the house, impaling himself on a pipe in the basement.
They had all scrambled quickly to their feet and then slowed down as they came to the hole. Holding the lanterns over the abyss to see better.
There was a few feet of water in the basement, and there seemed to be no way in. No way down to John. Blood dripped and ran, staining the water pink in the lantern glow.
“Outside?” Cammy asked.
“I doubt it,” Adam answered. “Probably not smart.”
“What about, John?” Cammy asked.
Adam looked him over. His eyes were shut, his chest rose and fell, but the blood was leaving his body at an alarming rate. The pipe jutted at an odd angle from just below his rib cage. He had stopped moving, probably passed into unconsciousness. Death had to be close. Even if they could get him off the pipe without killing him or him dying from the shock and blood loss, he would die from massive infection at the least.
“Think he could live if we got him off the pipe?” Madison asked.
“I don't see it,” Adam said softly.
“Could maybe make it,” Cammy said.
“Baby,” Madison said. “He'd be dead before we got him of the pipe. The kindest thing to do would be to....”
“Oh, God,” Cammy said. “But he didn't want to... He said...”
“It doesn't matter what he said... Do you want to see him suffer like that? Can't you see how bad it is?” Madison asked.
“Bad,” Cammy breathed but he tears began to roll across her cheeks as her eyes suddenly flooded.
“Yeah... Yeah,” Adam agreed.
John's eyes suddenly fluttered open and he turned his head slightly to stare at Madison. His jaw worked, but he said nothing. His eyes slipped closed and he let out a shuddering groan. His hands came up and began to feel the pipe clutching at it, scratching against it.
“Oh my, God,” Cammy sobbed. She lowered her head into her hands.
The silence held for a second, Adam looked over at Madison. You want me to? His eyes asked. She shook her head. She frowned hard and a second later she leaned forward and shot him in the head. He stopped his struggles. Cammy bent double and vomited.
Adam held it in, but barely. John had been alive earlier that night in the flickering light from the gas lanterns, when Madison had said what she would do, and John had disagreed. And Adam had not. To Adam it had been a real thing because of what he had already gone through on his own. To John it hadn't been real until now, a short time later when he had found himself dying and she had wasted no time. None. Adam had seen his eyes fall on Madison as the life flowed out of him. He couldn't speak but it was obvious he was trying to make her understand something. Whether it was a last plea not to kill him or a first plea to make sure she did, his eyes slipped shut with it unspoken
“He would have expected it,” Madison said later as they sat silently waiting for morning. Adam had the small bottle of whiskey out again and they were passing around. Trying to numb themselves more completely.
“I swear, if they come for me, if they get me? I'll put a bullet in my own head. I will. I swear I will. If I ever fuckin' have to, I won't hesitate,” Madison said.
Cammy began to cry. “Don't say it, Maddy. Don't say it.” And she didn't say it again, but it didn't matter. She had already spoke it into truth. Adam heard it. He heard it, and he knew she meant it.
In the morning Adam had packed up the truck he and John had been using. They headed back out of Jersey. Madison knew the area, and near nightfall they had found another old factory, and they had settle
d in once more. Adam had begun to feel as though a cloud were hovering over them... maybe even just him.
Rochester NY: Mike
Mike sat quietly in the dark, his weapons gathered around him. He had gathered them from their own arsenals and they hadn't even missed them. They, the people running this section of Rochester, might think they had their shit together, but they were nothing but amateurs. He had looked the weapons over several times. Thought out his plans more than a dozen times. There was nothing left, but to do it.
He had seen enough to know what was going on in Rochester. The entire city had been divided into territories by different gangs. He had watched the city for the last two days and nights. Walking boldly where he wished in the daylight, sticking to the hard shadows through the night. He couldn't ask for a better picture.
The power was on still. He didn't know how that was possible or why it was possible, but in the scheme of things it made his work easier. People with lights weren't so concerned with people sneaking in. The lights gave a false sense of security at night. He had worked his way in and seen everything he needed to see, and then made his way back out in the gray light of morning that first day. Since then he had slipped easily back and forth across their lines as if they didn't even exist.
He had started with the wreck. It sat where he had left it, on the outskirts of the city, near the downtown entrance from East Avenue. He had spent the best part of two hours going over it and there were more than a few things he had missed.
The first, and major thing, was that the Jeep he, Candace, and the others had been traveling in had not been directly hit. The one behind them had also not been directly hit... Ronnie, Jan, and Lilly had been in that Jeep.
Both Jeeps had been destroyed just the same. There was a large area of asphalt gouged out, and the tar had melted around both vehicles. The fire had been serious and had probably killed anyone who had not escaped the Jeeps, but some of them had escaped the Jeeps. More than just him.
There were bones, blackened, and wet now from the near constant rain. The body parts he remembered seeing were gone. Even so there were not enough bones to account for everyone. It didn't mean that Candace was one of those that had made it out, it only meant someone had. So he had set out to find out who might have survived and where they were.
The second night had paid dividends. He had followed a returning group on foot with prisoners and slipped right back into their protected area along with them. From there he had simply followed those they had bought in as they were pulled and shoved along the streets to a two story house off Culver Avenue.
The house was guarded, but again, it was guarded to make sure no one escaped, not to keep people from slipping in. And even that was slip shod. It was late the next day before he had seen her, and he had wept freely as they had dragged her from the buildings front door along with Ronnie, Patty and a few others he didn't recognize. Either the others were somewhere else or they had died or already been killed.
He had shuddered to think of what they might have been through over the last several days as he had made his escape and then finally decided to come back. It was too much to take in, and so he shut it down and followed them as they were dragged through the fresh snow, barefoot he saw, to another building and turned over to armed men there.
His mind had screamed, Do something! Do something right now! But his common sense had fought it down. That would be suicide. It would benefit no one. It would surely get him killed and probably them too if they realized that he had come here to free them.
They had not been long at the building, those that had bought them had stood around talking. Low tones, subdued, it seems they were none too happy about their own circumstances. It had been on the way back, after they had brought them back out and were headed back to their prison, that Mike had overheard their conversation.
Ronnie was alive because he had told them he had skills with carpentry. They needed skilled workers. So far he had refused to work for them. They had beaten him several times. Most likely they would kill him soon if he didn't give in. He was probably holding out, enduring the beatings, hoping for some way out for the women, for himself too.
Candace and Patty were a different story. They had been brought over to be looked over by a rival gang who might purchase them as part of some trade. From the sounds of the conversation they had liked what they had seen. The deal would go down tomorrow if they decided to go with it: If he intended to get them out alive it would have to be tonight.
It had not taken long to gather what he needed. He had found weapons of every kind. Rifles, pistols, knives, hand grenades even. He had gathered them and bought them to the small wooded area in back of the house next door where he had been hiding watching the prison. There was nothing left to do.
A few minutes before, the guard had changed. The night shift consisted of only two guards, and they were already sharing a joint together out back of the building. He heard their low voices and laughter as he worked his way out of the woods, bringing only what he needed, and around to the front of the house.
He hesitated at the front door. He was fairly certain there was no one inside, but he couldn't be positive. Anyone could have slipped in while he was out gathering weapons. He closed his eyes for a moment, shifted the pistol in his hand slightly, and then reached down and turned the knob.
The door swung open to a dark interior. Cold, no heat... No sounds. He stepped inside.
FIFTEEN
Conner and Katie
April 7th
The plan was simple enough; it just took a little while to set in motion.
They had guards posted above and at both ends of the road. While not entirely sure of either of the two new women, Conner split them up and allowed them to work with some of the others. It was probably clear to them that he didn’t entirely trust them, but they had to know what was at stake and probably wouldn’t think much of anyone who would allow two outsiders to come in and be given weapons, trust and the responsibility of helping to guard their territory.
In the best of circumstances, they probably wouldn’t be guarding anything at all, but these were not the best of circumstances, and were not likely to be any time soon, Conner told himself. So he’d split them up. He didn’t really believe that the other side could be so deceptive as to plant them, especially the way they had come to them. The fear he had seen in their eyes had been real.
While they had been working on Janna Adam's master list, radios of all types had been collected and brought back. Some had been tested, some had not. The idea they had thrown around was to have a system they could depend on once they began to travel. Base units and hand held units, everything they had found came down to just a few different choices, either centering around an F.M. system, or on a C.B., Citizens Band radio system.
Both offered several channels and two way talk. And both could reach and remain clear for well over a mile. Conner had been unable to conceive of any circumstances where they would need more than that. So it was a matter of portability, and what everyone else might have. That had become much more important after what had happened to the two groups, both of which had been able to eavesdrop on the others broadcasts.
Most people were familiar with Citizens Band, but not with the small hand held mobile F.M. Units, so they had decided to switch from the F.M. units they were using to the more familiar C.B. Radios.
What Conner suspected was that they were using one of the C.B. radios, but without knowing what channel they were using, it seemed it would take a lot of trial and error to locate them, but a hand held scanner had solved that problem.
James had also installed five mobile scanning units in the vehicles they were going to take. They operated like a standard Citizens Band radio, or they had a scan feature. They flipped from channel to channel looking for activity, probably good for long haul truckers looking for conversation to keep them awake at three A.M.
James also had a few scanning F.M. models. They could pick up, or used
to be able to pick up, most fire, police, taxi, rescue, things like that. They also scanned a great many channels used by cheap hand held F.M. Walki-Talkies, even some cell phone conversations and, in this area, Military conversations. Now all the bands were silent.
James and Jake installed the units. Less than an hour after sunrise both types of radios were up and running, scanning the channels for conversation.
There was still some time involved to scan every channel. Twice the C.B. stopped on channel eighteen but caught only a click before it moved on. At first it had seemed like it was all static, but the second stop convinced them. James stopped the scanning and set the radio on channel eighteen. Twenty-two minutes later a voice spoke and let them know they had chosen the right channel.
Overheard on C.B. Channel Eighteen
“Nothing yet,”
“’Kay,”
“Good job, James,” Conner smiled.
A few moments later the F.M. caught the end of another conversation…
“…Can’t tell…” Answered with only a click.
James isolated that channel as well.
“None of the hand held F.M. units we have, have that channel. That’s police… Or used to be,” James said matter-of-factly.
“That’s how they got it then,” Aaron said. “Hey, there are abandoned cop cars all over the city. I’ve seen a few myself. Smart.”
“Was smart,” Conner said, and smiled again. “We’ve got them both now.”
“But which is which?” James asked.
“That’s what we’re about to find out,” Conner told him.
~
Twenty minutes later Conner, James and Nell were ready to roll. They were inside the factory where they were sure they couldn’t be observed or overheard. Conner felt it was impossible for them to be able to get close enough to the factory to overhear anything that they said, but better safe than sorry, he’d told himself. They had already surprised them by attacking, maybe listening in on the radios in the first place. It was best not to underestimate them. They had discussed it while they worked installing the radios.
Earth's Survivors: box set Page 48