Free World Apocalypse - Fugitive

by T. K. Malone

  Trip’s expression turned from one of concern to one of delight. “Well,” he said, “you couldn’t be in better hands.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Coz I don’t understand stuff all the time, and I know exactly how to get around it.”

  Trip’s therapy was hard work. Firstly, they emptied his house of everything useful they could find, everything they might need, and stashed it in a tarpaulin wrap halfway down in Ray’s grave. At first Trip had wanted to dig the body up and bury the gear underneath it, but Teah explained that a decomposing body turned into a kind of soup, and Trip decided he didn’t want any “Ray guts soup” over his guns and tackle and traps. After that, they’d emptied Ray and Hannah’s house, but it turned out Ray had very little in the way of useful stuff, only his rack of firearms and a few fishing rods. They did, though, find plenty of food, and good survival food at that, canned stuff, stuff from Morton.

  At first they didn’t venture into Helen and Jez’s house. Something was up, the place smelled wrong. Trip cautiously pushed the front door and let it swing open. “Could be good stuff in here,” he muttered but hesitated. Teah took the first step in, her boots making hardly a sound on the wooden floor.

  In the half-light, dulled by the room’s yellowed curtains, it didn’t look like anything had happened. Everything seemed to be in place. Old Jez was sitting in a chair by an unlit hearth. He was wearing an emerald green jumper and a checked shirt, as usual. Just a small red circle on his forehead revealed why he was so still, then she noticed the splash of blood on the wall behind. There was no sign of Helen, and so Teah moved on through the house, finding her lying on the kitchen floor. She had a frilly, white apron on over a blue striped dress, looking every bit the gentle countrywoman, except that her forehead matched her husband’s and she lay in a pool of blood.

  Even Teah’s training couldn’t suggest a reason for this double execution, for that was plainly what it was. Had the army not wanted older folk? Were they seen as of no use? But that didn’t make any sense, either. Surely it would have been just as easy to have left them be—and saved the ammunition.

  “Trip, rifle the cupboards. I’m going to have a look around.”

  Trip snooped around half-heartedly as Teah went back into the front room and glanced up the stairs. She’d no idea why, but she knew she had to look up there. There were three doors off the landing at the top. The first revealed a bathroom, the next a small room with nothing in it but a single bed. Helen and Jez’s bedroom was much larger, containing a double bed, a chest of drawers full of nothing but clothes, and a closet tucked in one corner, in which hung coats and dresses. Teah let out a long breath and was about to leave when she noticed a loft hatch tucked in the corner of the ceiling, right up above the bedroom door, which seemed an odd place to put one.

  She looked around the room, for anything that might help her get up there, then noticed something under the bed. Reaching under, she felt a wooden pole and pulled it out. It had a hook at one end, which she lifted to the hatch’s catch. It fell open, revealing a sliding ladder which she pulled down with the pole’s hook. The ladder’s aluminium squeak as it slid down broke the suffocating silence that had filled the house. As she started up the steps, Trip hollered up the stairs, “Are you okay up there?” but by now she’d poked her head through into the loft’s darkness.

  “Say, Trip? There a flashlight around down there?”

  “Hold on; I’ll look.”

  She couldn’t make out anything in the gloom, however hard she peered, but then she jumped and almost screamed when she felt a hand patting her leg. Trip laughed, a laugh that cut off abruptly when she looked down at him. He passed her the flashlight.

  Its funnel of light at first only revealed cobwebbed roof timbers, but then it lit a table on which stood a radio of some sort, a microphone set before it. Off to one side was a stand holding a satellite dish, then a wooden pole, like a lever, from which a rope stretched off to a series of pulleys.

  “Weird,” she whispered.

  “What is?” asked Trip.

  “Unless I’m mistaken, what we have up here is a fully operational field satellite communications station. But what’s even stranger is that it’s up here.”

  “Well, hop up out of the way and let me get up to have a look.”

  Teah climbed into the loft and Trip’s head then poked through the hole. “So, what do you think?” he said.

  “I think we’ve found the motherlode. I’ll dismantle it and pass it down to you. We’ll take it downstairs.”

  Bit by bit, they got it down and Teah finally pushed the ladder back up, shut the hatch and rolled the pole back under the bed. She found she had a compelling urge to rid the house of any trace that they’d been there, and so doublechecked every room before they left. By the time they were back out in the street with the gear, Ned was walking up the road. He looked a new man, clean shaven, sporting cargo pants and boots, and a white T-shirt beneath a camouflage jacket, ready to take on the world, to hunt and fight.

  “So,” he shouted, “I see you’ve found our resident spies.”

  “Spies?”

  “Helen and Jez. They’ve been reporting stuff back for years. But the question is: who to?”

  23

  Teah’s story

  Strike time: plus 3 days

  Location: Morton Valley

  They’d found Morton deserted too. The bar, the tackle shop to its side, and every dwelling had been vacated, all empty. It looked like the army had used Morton as a base while evacuating Aldertown, for part of the road had obviously been cleared as a landing area, from which ran plenty of tire tracks, the whole area littered with boot prints. A lot of them went to and fro from the lake, as though they’d stocked up on water.

  “That’s good,” Ned muttered. “Means they think the water’s safe.”

  Ned had proved his worth already. He was clearly a proficient tracker and an efficient hunter, but more importantly, he had a level head. They’d only strayed briefly into the town, soon back under the cover of the enormous trees. Teah had wanted to go straight after the army, using Trip’s truck, but Ned had pointed out the folly of that. While the satellites had probably been knocked out by the EMPs, the army had apparently stored their drones somewhere safe. “It’d only take one drone up there and we’d be found, any stealth gone,” he’d said. To Teah, though, the question had been: why not get found? At least then she’d be reunited with Clay, but that soon didn’t sit right with her, either. It still left them with the other unanswered questions: why had the soldiers taken them all? And why had they killed Helen and Jez? Teah could think of no rational explanation.

  She was glad now that Ned had taken a lead, for her mind had become crippled by indecision. Her old view of him had been replaced by one of a new and revitalized man, though thoughts of Jenny still lingered at the back of her mind. He’d suggested they make a base somewhere higher up the valley, where they could plan their next moves, and Trip had readily agreed—provided they could make a stop-off to scavenge some of Saggers’ smokes. This they’d all agreed upon.

  Ned had only looted one thing from Morton, a hefty block of sun cells, as Teah knew them. They converted the sun’s rays into usable power. They’d had to take turns lugging them all the way back to Aldertown, where they finished loading Trip’s truck with all their essentials, including Saggers’ cigarettes and whiskey. When they eventually came to make their way up the valley, only one place appeared viable: by the small lake, with its waterfall and easy access to the promontory. It would give them a good vantage point for keeping an eye on the plain and its ruined city.

  Ned spread out a map on the ground, a little away from where Trip was digging a pit.

  “This is the valley we’re in”, he said, pointing at the map. “It’s back to back with this one, here, both running down to this larger one that takes the river to where it used to flow into Black City. My best guess is that the army went this way,” and his finger traced a line f
rom Aldertown to Morton, then on down the valley to its end. “From here, they could climb or descend, but my guess is that they traveled up, away from where the nuke hit. Stands to reason they must have had somewhere shielded from the strike’s EMP wave, some cave or mine. Somewhere sheltered by rock. It could be along that valley, there, over this ridge,” and his finger traced out the features.

  “So they could be anywhere beyond the ridge, then?” Teah said, now bereft of hope.

  “Not really. Not unless they set off before the nukes went up, which I can’t imagine they did. They’d have given it a day or two to settle down. So, if we can assume they left early that third morning, it’d give them some six hours’ traveling time, max. Trip, how long does it take to drive to Morton?”

  “Flat out or cruisin’?” he said, pausing from his digging.

  “Cruisin’. They ain’t gonna rush.”

  “Well, let’s see. Fifteen miles an hour average, what with the bends ‘n potholes and the like, so about forty-five minutes.”

  Ned plucked a pencil from his jacket. “In which case,” and he drew a wide circle on the map. “That’s roughly six hours’ worth of traveling.” He then drew another circle. “And that’s half that time.”

  “Still a vast area,” Teah pointed out.

  Ned shook his head again. “Not really. The drones must be being controlled from the ground, so they’ll have to have followed the valley floors. Here, and here,” and he drew two lines in the shape of a “V”. “Somewhere in here we’ll find their compound.”

  “Then,” Teah said, “what’re we waiting for?”

  “Me?” Ned said, pointing to himself. “I’m waiting for a bit of that squirrel that Trip’s gonna cook, and I’m also waiting for a smoke you’re going to give me. We gotta plan this right, Teah. If we’re gonna find them, we gotta be cute. Either it’s a long, round trip or a few out-and-backs, a piece of a valley at a time.”

  “Long one around sounds best,” Teah said.

  Ned took the smoke she offered and lit it. “It’d be better, sure, but there is a problem. Only way up and over that ridge is near the preppers, and they don’t take too kindly to visitors. Less so now, I’d imagine.”

  “But we should be able to sneak past them, right?”

  “Maybe so,” Ned said, and folded the map up. “Either way, we need to make this place our base. If we’re going over the ridge, it couldn’t be better placed, and it’s far enough down the valley to be good for retrieving our stuff from Aldertown. All we gotta do is get set up here. I’ll start on the tents.” He looked across at Trip. “Shit, Trip, what are you digging there?”

  Trip had dug two small round pits about two feet in diameter and a couple deep, a foot or so apart. He was lying by one, his arm in it, spooning out dirt. “It’s a Kotta fire; I think that’s what it’s called. You link the two pits and light the fire in one. That gets you a fire that don’t smoke. Figured we were gonna need one of these, or only cook at night—one or the other.” He jumped up. “There. Now all I need is some rocks. Bound to be some up the path. Might have a look at the old city while I’m up there. Fancy coming, Teah?”

  Teah shook her head. “Na, you go. I’ll empty the truck and then hide it. Got just the place.”

  Trip shrugged and trudged off.

  Ned waited until he was out of earshot and let slip a laugh. “That boy’s gotta soft spot for you, you know that?”

  “Seems that way,” she said, and started back over the stepping-stones across the river to the truck.

  When she got there, Teah pulled a tent from it and carried it back. They were on the city side of the lake and nestled by the rocky steps up to the promontory. Ned was busy hacking at some undergrowth a few feet back from the lake’s edge. He was clearly planning on setting up the tents under the cover of the redwoods that grew beside the river that flowed from it and down to Aldertown.

  “Saggers show you that break in the ridge?” Teah said. “Only been up there the once, myself. Didn’t look so natural. Like something took out its top somewhere along the line.”

  “Like what?”

  “Who knows? A bomb, a plane going down. Something. Handy, though. Be a good place to keep an eye on down there.”

  Teah went back to the truck and jumped up onto its bed, throwing the rest of their gear down onto the ground. Then she came across the radio. “Hey, Ned,” she called over, “you reckon you can get this old thing going?”

  Ned stopped his clearing and came over, leaning against the side of the truck. “Sure can, just not sure if I can get the sun cells working. If I can, I can, then we’ll be able to monitor the airwaves—see who’s talking to who. Hell, might even lead us straight to your boy.”

  “You get to that, and I’ll fix the tents.”

  Ned stared at her, as though trying to reach a conclusion. “No, you go hide the truck. I’ll fix the place up. My guess is you’ve never put a tent up in your life,” and he heaved the radio up and made to set off back across the stepping-stones.

  “Here, take the bag of smokes,” Teah said. “I won’t be long,” and she jumped down from the truck and climbed into its cab.

  “You got a good place?”

  “Just the one. I’ll be back in thirty. Throw me a couple of those smokes.”

  She lit one, started the engine and drove off. By the time she was almost back to where she’d started that morning, the whole day had almost passed by. Difference was: Clay, Saggers and Hannah had vanished and she was now in an unlikely alliance with Ned and Trip. Could be, she thought, that the army was just making sure everyone was safe, but then that didn’t really hold up with them shooting folk between the eyes. She slammed on the brakes, the truck skidding to a halt on the mud. What, she wondered as she puffed on her smoke, if they’d already been dead before the army got there? She’d only had Ned’s word that the army had killed them, or was it only his assumption. He also hadn’t yet explained how he’d known about the radio, about them spying. More bloody questions, she thought and gunned the accelerator, bumping through the forest toward the fallen redwood.

  Tate Morrow’s jeep was where she’d left it. She cleared away enough of the dead branches and leaves to back the truck in, finally bumping it up against the jeep before getting back out. Before camouflaging them, she decided to take a quick look in the jeep, in case she’d missed something in her haste the first time.

  She leaned in and fumbled around in the dark, finding Morrow’s wallet. Inside was a bit of money—not a lot—an old ID card with just his name and photo, a book of matches and a folded sheet of paper. When she unfolded the paper, something small and square slipped out and fell to the ground. She cursed, intent first on the paper, which she flattened out in her hand. It was a simple printed line-map on which Morton, Aldertown, the preppers compound, and the mine were all clearly marked. Nothing new in that, she reckoned, and folded the map into the wallet and put them all in her pocket.

  As she set out to walk back to their new camp, she remembered the thing that had fallen out of the map and backtracked, finding it where she’d ground it into the mud beneath her boots. She plucked it up and wiped it on Lester’s old coat. It was a photo, and she gasped at the image it held. Jake’s mugshot stared back at her, and slowly she pulled it closer to her eyes, to make sure they weren’t playing tricks on her. Turning the photo over, trying to forget the lingering stare of the man’s mad eyes, she found a single word scrawled on the back: “Traitor”.

  Quickly folding it up and putting it back into Morrow’s wallet, she shoved it inside her coat and muttered a string of curses. Had she killed the wrong men? Had they been on their way to kill Jake? Her head ached at the thought, and the indecision it brought. It was time to tie up a few loose ends, she finally concluded and took a deep breath. A fine time to be involved in the most complex investigation she’d ever had to take on, but that’s what it was now, and more to the point, Clay was at stake. She berated herself for not having seen it clearly before. The only way
this would end well was if she found out what everyone was doing, what their motives were, how it all wove together. At the center of this web of intrigue there had to be a spider, she just had to find out who that was.

  It was dark by the time she got back, but the guarded glow of Trip’s fire guided her when she got near. She briefly wondered if it was wise to have it burning at all, but the smell of what she assumed was squirrels cooking, and the warmth she knew it would give out, the homeliness it promised, was worth it. Ned had put up all four tents, one for them each and maybe one for Saggers and Hannah if they turned up. Both men were now sitting by the fire.

  “So you’re back,” Ned shouted as she jumped across the stepping-stones.

  “Took a while longer than I thought.”

  “Ned caught some rabbits,” Trip told her as she dumped herself down on the ground. “Make a change from squirrel.”

  “Say, that a canteen of water?” she asked.

  “Fresh from the stream,” Ned assured her and tossed it over. “Run into anyone?”

  She took a long swig, put the cap back on and wiped her mouth. “Nope, not a soul.”

  “Nothing here, either. Trip’s the official fire maker of our group,” Ned said with a grin.

  “Oh yeah,” Teah said, feigning surprise. “We a group now?”

  “Sure are,” said Trip, seemingly happy with the arrangement.

  “Did you get the radio going?” Teah asked Ned.

  “Got it all set up but ran out of light. Thinking it should work okay, though—seems to have survived the bumps on the way up here.”

  Trip turned the spitted rabbit, great globules of fat dropping into the pit, spitting and crackling. Stones had been placed around the fire pit, a couple of big flat ones forming a kind of warming plate. Teah was mesmerized by its seeming simplicity. “What does the other pit do?” she asked.