by Joss Ware
Elliott followed Jade back through the hotel, keeping a sharp eye on Quent. Now that he was conscious again, and took care not to do so much as brush against the wall, his friend seemed to be fully recovered. Elliott had found nothing unusual when he scanned the guy.
Apparently, like himself, Quent had contracted some sort of paranormal ability that had seemed fantastic at the outset, but was really a double-edged sword.
Elliott found it disconcerting, to say the least, that Simon, Fence, and Wyatt hadn’t come away with any paranormal abilities like he and Quent had. Even the unfortunate Lenny had acquired a new skill—the ability to sense water, like a human divining rod. That had been ability that came in handy when they first emerged from the caves.
But Lenny’s death had put to bed any possibility that their special skills and fifty-year “sleeps” had somehow made the six of them immortal, or immune to injury or death. Their hair and nails might not be growing, like that of mythological vampiric creatures, but the sunlight didn’t bother them. Nor would they live forever.
Elliott realized Jade had led them back to the part of the hotel that teemed with activity like any other town. They walked through a walled-in area designed like the streets of a city, but which had originally been the interior lobby of the hotel. The ceiling or roof was gone, and storefronts and restaurants lined the “streets” that were now real streets with real trees and paved walkways, giving the impression of a quaint downtown area.
“Let’s get something to eat,” Jade said, gesturing to the same little restaurant they’d gone into the first night they were in Envy. “Then I can send word to Lou that we’re back without making a big deal about it,” she added softly to Elliott.
But Lou, Fence, Wyatt, and Simon were already in the restaurant, sitting in a large corner booth in the back.
“Where’ve you been?” Wyatt asked Quent.
“You’re back,” Lou said to Jade and Elliott at the same time.
As they settled in the booth with the others, Elliott still holding the pack they’d taken from the Stranger, Jade explained briefly how they’d come upon Quent.
“Everyone eats here,” Lou was explaining to Fence, who must have broached the question when Elliott wasn’t paying attention. “Here or at one of the other restaurants—there are five all together.” He looked around the table. “I know, it’s like Cheers, but when we first started to rebuild, it just evolved that way. Most people who live in Envy live in what were hotel rooms or suites, and have made them their homes. But no one really has the means to cook.”
“So it’s like a commune,” Fence said. Elliott noticed he looked rather haggard, and whoa! Was that stubble on his face? Actual stubble? And on his bald head?
Elliott dragged a hand over his own chin to check his status. Nope. Still smooth as a baby’s butt. He wasn’t complaining, because he’d have a full-blown Robinson Crusoe beard by now if his hair had been growing. It was just damned weird.
Lou replied, “A community, rather than a commune. The meals aren’t free; people do have to pay for them. But it’s easier to prepare the food with the limited electricity and supplies we have, as well as the fact that there’s no reason to have a stove or fridge in every home.” Then he grinned. “It suits me fine, because I’ve never liked to cook.”
“And you never miss a meal,” Jade said fondly. Elliott heard her add in an undertone, “We’ve got stuff. Let’s make this fast and get out of here.”
Lou nodded and gestured for the waitress. Elliott watched in amazement as, before his eyes, Lou turned from a sharp-eyed computer whiz into a musty-gazed, dottering old man who could barely express his request . . . which was for the woman to wrap up a couple sandwiches for the group. “You remind me of my granddaughter, you do,” he said, his voice sounding aged. “She lives over there, you know. Her name is Carly. Do you know her? She comes in here all the time, you know. And I want to order four sandwiches—”
The waitress was kind, but brisk. “Of course, Mr. Wax. I’m going to get those for you right now.” And she fled.
Lou turned back to Elliott, laughter in his suddenly bright eyes. “Works every time. They hate to hear me talk about my granddaughter.”
“That’s because you don’t have a granddaughter,” Jade reminded him.
“I know that, and they know that . . . but they don’t realize I know that.”
“So how do we pay for our meals while we’re here?” Elliott asked. “And what do they use for currency?”
“You needn’t worry about that for a while. For now, Mayor Rogan has given you carte blanche in thanks for saving the kids. If you decide to stay in Envy, arrangements will be made for what we call community service, which will assist with the costs. The rest you’ll be able to pay for with income that you generate through whatever you choose to do.” Lou said. “As for currency . . . what do you think? Casino chips.” He grinned.
“Lou, you go on. I’ll be down in a few.” Jade’s gaze swept everyone, but her words were for Elliott. “I’ve want to check on Geoff and say hi to Flo . . . she worries when I’m gone. I’ll be down in a few minutes. Why don’t you take this.” She handed him the Stranger’s pack.
Elliott wanted to say, Hurry back. But he thought that would make him sound pathetic.
What the hell. He was pathetic. He watched her as she hurried away, wondering when he’d have the chance to get her alone again.
Why had he been so foolish as to let the opportunity slip by last night?
He directed his gaze away. He knew why. Because he needed to know there was no one else. He wasn’t the kind of guy to plan and execute a siege for a woman, pitting himself against a group of rivals. He’d learned that lesson back in high school when he was lobbying to take Mary Ellen Fray to the prom. He’d won that bid, paid for the limo and flowers and an expensive dinner—all so she could show off for the guy she really liked—and for whom she’d dumped Elliott two days later.
So he’d made it a policy not to waste his time unless he knew the woman was interested enough to concentrate on him. Period.
“I want to know why there are so many pregos around here,” Fence muttered in Elliott’s ear as they stood to leave.
“I’d suppose that if the human race was nearly destroyed, it would make sense to try and repopulate it as quickly and efficiently as possible,” Quent commented. “Looks as if it’s working.”
“Cool. Free love and all,” Fence replied, his smile flashing wickedly. “I can help with that.”
Lou must have heard them, for he stopped his fake shuffling walk, and turned to address Quent. “Actually, that was quite a bone of contention for a while, early on. There were people who wanted, literally, to set up breeding arrangements and to actually monitor them. But most of us agreed that it would be best to let nature take its course, with an emphasis on trying to find a mate and procreate.”
He took a few slow steps, then turned with a smile and said, “There are, after all, no condoms or any other birth control anymore. There’s no reason for it, and in fact, it would almost be considered bad taste to try and prevent a pregnancy. Our fertile women are well cared for and encouraged to have as many children as they like.”
Logical and interesting. And a relief that procreation wasn’t somehow managed or controlled by the governing body, for that could easily have happened in a society desperate to regenerate itself.
“Don’t you worry about inbreeding?” asked Elliott.
“We do. We keep very careful records,” Lou explained. “But we’re only on our second generation since the Change, and so far there hasn’t been a problem. And of course, now the five of you have appeared. New, fresh blood.” He smiled and stroked his goatee. “Be prepared to be accosted.”
“Hot damn,” said Fence. “That’s me. Fresh fucking blood.”
“Wouldn’t that be fresh blood fucking?” Lou said with a laugh.
Elliott snorted. He was really beginning to appreciate the elderly man’s sense of humor and
pragmatism. Considering what he’d lived through, and how much of a hand he must have had in the evolution of this new society, he was very practical and energetic. It could have been much different if the wrong person—or people—had survived.
Three months After
Have settled into life, such as we know it.
It’s clear that no one from the outside will come to help. Whatever happened has happened everywhere. No planes, no sign of any human life besides us.
Number has grown to 765—survivors from Vegas and others that have wandered until they found us. Have made the hotel’s Statue of Liberty visible. A new role for her.
Emergency and urgent task teams have now turned into day-to-day operations intent on creating a communal life. Everyone seems to have found a place of expertise: Food, Clothing, Cooks, Clean-up, Foraging, Power. (I’m working in Power and Theo and I are stocking up any electronics we can find.) He’s working with Entertainment too. Need to have something to think about other than what’s happened. Movies each night on a big screen. Very surreal.
Theo calls it sitting around the campfire, post-apocalyptic-style.
Some smart people have scavenged food from what’s left of the grocery stores and are working to cultivate plants from seeds. Others have gone off in search of farms, trying to find anything that can be saved and grafted or otherwise propagated. Talk about thinking ahead. What a bitch it would be if someone ate the last strawberry, and we didn’t have any way to grow them again.
There’s talk of creating an official governing body. Makes sense as there have already been some incidents. Last night, looters came through to steal what they could—don’t know where they came from, or what they think they’re going to do with the money they took from the casino cash office.
Where do they think they’re going to spend it? Boneheads.
Heard a strange noise last night. Sounded like someone groaning, calling for Ruth. Chose not to investigate.
All the bodies are gone, scavenged by animals. Or something.
—from the journal of Lou Waxnicki
Chapter 13
Sage seemed a bit less annoyed today when Elliott and the others followed Lou into the computer room. She glanced up at them briefly and noticed Elliott. “You’re back. Where’s Jade?”
“She’ll be along in a bit,” Elliott said.
Sage gave Lou a disgruntled look as if it were his fault they were interrupting her, then returned to her work.
“If looks could kill,” Lou muttered with a grin. “She’s really good at that.”
“Don’t you ever let her out into the sunshine?” Wyatt asked in his off-handed manner. He didn’t have the greatest way with women. In fact, Elliott had always wondered how the sonofabitch had managed to get married.
Sage gave Wyatt a dark look from deep blue eyes, but said nothing as she presented them with her rigid back. Her fingers began to tap away again on one of the keyboards.
“Quent, you wanted to see the satellite images,” Lou said. “We still have them, and others. Theo and I monitored them until the satellite burned out about forty years ago.”
“I’d like to see them too,” Elliott said, wondering if actual proof of the worldwide destruction would make it easier or more difficult for him to accept it. “And then I have some things to show you that Jade and I picked up from a Stranger.”
“What? From a Stranger?” Lou stopped.
“We surprised him and managed to get away unscathed, and with not only his knapsack, but his vehicle as well.”
“Well, that’s a story I want to hear,” the old man said as he sat at one of the computers in a corner. It had two big screens and a keyboard so well used that all of the letter markings had faded away, but the elderly geek didn’t need them; he sat and typed rapidly, and with no indication of arthritis. “There aren’t too many people who are accosted by a Stranger and live to tell about it. But let me pull these images up for you first. I know you really need to see them to believe it.”
Elliott sat in a chair next to him and looked around. The room was empty of any decoration other than computer boxes and monitors. He saw no printers either, and wondered at that. On the plain white wall above Lou’s computer hung a California license plate that said WIXY 97, which happened to be the year he’d graduated from pre-med. Wixy? Elliott couldn’t help a smile. So that’s where that had come from. It was the only thing hanging anywhere in the room, and it roused his curiosity.
“What’s the license plate for?” he asked. “Is it from your car?”
Lou glanced up as his fingers continued to move, and he gave a little laugh. “Not my car. Just a plate we found. It’s hanging here as a memorial. Way back when we first started to put together this network”—he gestured to encompass the room—“we knew we had to keep it secret. Underground, so to speak.”
“Why would a computer network need to be kept secret?” Quent interrupted.
“Because the Strangers don’t want we mortals to become powerful again. Or to learn about them and overthrow their control. They want to keep us simple and ignorant. Aside from that, if they don’t know it exists, they can’t hack into it.”
It sounded so paranoid, but Elliott no longer questioned it. He’d seen enough in the last two days alone for his mind, even if it had been closed, to crack wide open.
Lou continued. “We were trying to think of a password or phrase we could use to identify people who were part of the Resistance. One of our first Runners, Rick Halpert—who was killed by the Strangers about a year ago—happened to see that plate and suggested using the word ‘wixy’ as our password. So we tried it at first, but now it’s sort of leaked out into regular conversation as a slang word—you’d try it out on someone to see if they recognized it and responded, and the next thing we knew, it had been picked up. Most passwords aren’t such unique words that catch the attention of people—they’re just phrases. But now you’ll hear kids talk about something being ‘wixy,’ which means it’s good or cool . . . whatever it is they’re talking about. Like, that’s a wixy jacket or a wixy tune. And if something’s really cool or awesome, it’s ‘van halen.’ ” He gave a little chuckle.
Then he stood. “I can see that you’re having trouble believing all of this, which is why we refrained from dumping it all on you before. Believe me, there’s a lot to know. But I’ve had fifty years to figure it out, to learn and understand and believe it. You five . . . well, I can’t imagine how you must be feeling.”
PTSD, anyone?
“Here. Take a look. These are the first images we saw after Theo was able to hack into a couple satellites—almost a year after the Change. They speak for themselves.”
Elliott took Lou’s place at the computer, his palms suddenly sweaty, his heart pounding. Quent and the others moved to stand behind him, and together they looked at the images, which were clearly time-stamped, 14.05.2011.
It didn’t take long for Elliott to see that Lou hadn’t been mistaken, nor had he exaggerated. It really was the Pacific Ocean spilling over what had been California and the Baja Peninsula. And there was a large land mass, maybe the size of Colorado, about two hundred miles west of where California’s coast had been.
The rest of the images left Elliott just as shaken.
“Jesus,” Wyatt breathed.
“Everything I know about plate tectonics says that the legends about Mu and Atlantis and Lemuria sinking into the ocean are impossible,” said Quent, his voice bleeding with disbelief. “Which would mean that continents rising from the depths would be equally impossible. But there it fucking is. It certainly wasn’t there when I flew to Hawaii.”
When Elliott turned away at last, he met Lou’s gaze and saw sympathy, and a bit of hope there. How must he feel, to have more people who actually understood the gravity of what had happened? “Unfuckingbelievable,” he said. “It’s just . . . incomprehensible.”
“Yeah. That’s about what we thought,” Lou replied.
“And you think that
the Strangers somehow did this? How? Do you think they’re aliens?”
Hell, maybe the so-called landmass was a huge spaceship that had landed on the ocean. Why not? If there were zombie-like gangas in this strange new world, there could be continental spaceships and aliens to go along with them.
Lou drew in a breath, hesitated, then let it out. “I have my theories about that as well.”
“Lou,” Sage interrupted sharply. “An email from Theo.”
Elliott stood, needing to get away from the satellite images, and wandered around the room. Nervous energy ticked through him.
“Let me see it,” Lou said, his tone equally raw. He moved to her side so quickly it belied his age, and moments later, he said, “About damn time. . . .” His voice trailed off and the angry clicking of keys ensued.
Sage moved quickly to give over her chair, but still hovered behind, leaning over the elderly man with his blond ponytail and worried mouth.
“Well, at least he’s okay,” Lou muttered to himself, still typing furiously. “He’s close to finding a way to hack into Chatter . . . says that he’s not leaving until he does.” He sighed, smoothed his hand over his ponytail. “Next time, don’t leave us hanging for days,” he added, keying in what was obviously an annoyed reprimand.
Elliott came to stand next to Sage, behind Lou, far enough away that they wouldn’t feel crowded, but close enough that he could watch the five screens in a half-moon array in front of them.
Two of them held text that scrolled through, black on a white screen. A third one looked like a regular Windows-based email program, a fourth was, amazingly, Google. Google? No, wait . . . it was Yahoogle. The Waxnicki brothers had a hell of a sense of humor.
And the fifth screen. . . .
Elliott frowned and leaned closer to look at the image. “Hey, that’s the symbol we found in the Stranger’s book,” he said, pointing to the screen and what looked like a crude drawing carved into stone. “Quent, take a look at this. Have you seen it before?”