by Joel Shaw
"What did you say is on those pallets?"
"Some plastic tube things, some red, plastic caps with handles and some labels. The tubes look like small bottles, but they wouldn't hold much water and the caps don't fit either. I don't know. You should take a look.” Amber helped the dog outside and held him close enjoying the comforting sensation the dog provided.
"Good boy...You need a name, don't you boy?
Sheila switched her headlamp on and climbed over the top of the pallets toward the rear of the container. She tore the tape from large envelope attached to one of the pallets. Inside was a bill of lading. The pallets were loaded in Kansas City, Kansas being shipped to St. Cloud, Minnesota.
"No shit. Hey Amber, this stuff is being shipped to St. Cloud. Do you believe that?"
“That’s to good to be true. You think we'll be able to ride it all the way?"
“It’s tempting, but I still think we should get off as soon as possible. We could hide and wait, I suppose. If the train is searched they won’t find us. If it isn't searched and starts to pull out, we can jump back on."
She cut the wrapping around a pallet and withdrew one of the plastic tubes. It looked like one of the test tubes she had seen in the infirmary. She found the caps and placed one on the tube. Amber was right. The caps didn’t fit; they were much too big. She pulled the labels from the small bag and pulled one off the roll, sticking it to the side of her HydroPack.
"What do you think we should name our dog?" Amber was steadily stroking him. His head was in her lap, eyes closed.
"How about Redwing?" Sheila yelled, moving farther back to investigate something that caught her eye.
"That's a great name; Redwing. I like it." Amber hugged the dog. "What do you think, boy? Do you like the name Redwing?" Redwing raised his tail and let it flop.
"He likes his name, Sheila. He wagged his tail when I said it."
"Awesome." Sheila studied the contents. There was another container that just fit inside the larger one. Taped to the front was a plastic envelope bulging with papers. She extracted a thick manual and read the cover page:
Contents: Mobile Water Bottling Plant
Industrieweg 2 1330 Aartselaar
Belgium Tel.: +32 32 55 44 00
Fax: +32 32 88 33 44
[email protected]
www.containo.com
She tore the envelope from the container and took it out into daylight. "Check this out Amber. There's a portable water bottling plant in this container."
"A portable what?"
"A portable water bottling plant." She thumbed through the page of the user manual, stopping at an image that showed a cutaway of the interior of the plant.
“Look. The tubes are called preforms.” She followed the system diagram with her finger. "The preforms go through this thing that somehow inflates the tubes into gallon jugs, the jugs are filled, capped, and labeled before they come out here. Wow. Could we have used one of these in Salina or what? Shania said the Black Swans had secured millions of gallons of water in St. Cloud. I wonder if they plan to bottle it...”
“Did I hear you say millions of gallons...of water?”
“That right, you haven’t seen these documents.” She patted her stomach were she had the folders neatly stored inside her bullet-proof vest. “Apparently there are some rock quarries in Saint Cloud that are full of water. That’s why the Swans went there in the fist place.” Sheila reviewed the contents of the folders for Amber’s benefit. When she was done she could see that Amber was upset. That was the little girl inside holding on for dear life. She had seen the big girl in action. The big girl was ferocious.
"I'm taking this.” She held up the User Manual. “Those assholes will have to figure that thing out for themselves. Maybe we can hijack it and sell it back to them. Or, better yet, maybe we can sell them poisoned water." She stuffed the manual in her pack. She looked toward the front of the train. In the distance she could see a cluster of tall buildings.
"I think I see The Colony of St. Paul. Let's get off as soon as the thing stops. The train slowed, but did not stop. They watched and waited as the locomotive chugged toward the security gates.
"It's not stopping at the gates. Shit. There’s a guard tower up there. We have to hide our stuff now.”
Amber coaxed Redwing into the container, grabbed her gear and scooted out of sight. Sheila followed, closing the door save for a crack. They waited an interminable amount of time before the train came to a halt. Sheila peeked out the door. She could see a distant skyline, but it wasn't the one she had first seen.
"The train went past the city," she whispered. We're in the middle of a huge rail yard. There is a fence around it, too. There is no way we'll be able to get out of here without being seen. We either take a chance now and run for it or we wait until dark.
"Redwing can't run. He's not strong enough, and I think he needs to go to, if you know what I mean. What are we going to do about that?"
"We could let him go on his own? He might come back he might not. At least he's better off than he was a few hours ago."
"I'm not going to abandon him. Not now. He needs help. He needs more food and water. He needs us."
"We need more water, Amber. He drank about a gallon in the past two hours." Sheila shook her HydroPack. “Hear that? I might have a quart left in my Hydro. How about you?"
Amber pressed on her Hydro bladder. There were about two cups of water remaining. "Oh crap. I didn't think I was so low. Redwing drank a lot...It's OK boy. You can have as much as you want."
"Not any more, Amber. We have to conserve what's left."
"I have a Minnesota Water Ration Card, all we have to do is find a dispenser."
"You make it sound simple. Do you have any idea where the nearest dispenser is?”
"No, and it's not simple. Jordan tried to explain to me how to get water using someone else's cards and get away without being identified. He went on and on about it. I was exhausted before he started talking about it. I didn't really understand what he said. All I remember is that I was supposed to hide my face because there's a camera in the dispenser. Something about a number on the map and the GPS. I don't know, sorry... I wasn’t paying attention.”
"Let me see the GPS and the Minnesota map. We'll start with that. Maybe I can figure it out. If not, I'll do a smash and grab."
Amber dug through her jumbled backpack. She pulled the GPS case out and withdrew the device. Behind the device, tucked inside a small pocket was a thin Quick-Start Guide. “Hey, look, there’s some kind of book in the GPS case." She held it up. "It's a 'User Manual'. Maybe that will help."
"Hold the map, Amber.”
Amber held the map against the door while Sheila powered up the GPS, waiting for it to acquire satellites.
"It's not working in here. I don’t think w’’re getting a signal through this steel. I have to put it outside. Wait." She pushed the door open far enough to get her arm through, setting the GPS on the steel deck of the flatcar.
Redwing took the opportunity to bolt out the door, wagging his tail. He looked over the side of the car, it was a five foot jump to the railroad bed. He arched his back and defacated where he stood. He sniffed some more and marked the corner of the container.
"Good boy," Amber whispered through the open door."Come. Come Redwing. Come on boy. That's it. Come on. That's it. Good boy. Good Redwing." Redwing returned to the confines of the container and flopped down between them.
"I hope no one saw him." Amber stroked the dirty dog with growing affection.
"We'll know soon enough." Sheila stretched her arm out the door and pulled the GPS closer, studying the screen she could see the tiny satellite blue icons indicating acquisition. She pushed the page button; a map appeared with an arrow icon in the center. "Let me see that manual." She read the a section, then found the zoom button and pushed it until details began to show on the map.
"Here's our position. There's a red flag labeled FWD over here."
"
I remember now. That stands for Federal Water Dispenser."
"No kidding. It would be helpful if you remembered more than that."
"I'm trying. How far is it to the red flag?"
Sheila studied the manual for a few more minutes, navigating through various menus and functions until she was satisfied. “We’re are about a mile and a half from this one." She zoomed in on the Federal Water Dispenser in North East Minneapolis. “We’re on the north side of Minneapolis. We went right through St. Paul."
Amber studied the Minnesota map. "We're about fifty miles from St. Cloud. Do you think we could make it there with the water we have left?"
"No. We don't have any idea how long we'll be here, do we? Besides. Our furry friend probably needs a drink right now, look at him, he's panting."
"He's panting because he's hot."
"Right. He's hot, and we're hot. We have to get some water."
"How much longer until sunset?"
Sheila studied the shadow of a nearby light tower, it stretched across the rails beyond her field of view. "I'd say another hour or two. There's a problem, though. There a light towers all over the place. This yard is going to be lit up after dark." She thought for a few minutes. "I'm going alone, right now. I can use the veil. I'll need daylight to see where I'm going through the fabric or whatever it is. I'll take my HydroPack and your canteen. That should be enough. Let me have the veil. You stay here with Redwing and keep him inside." Sheila poured the remaining water from her hydropack into Amber's.
Amber gave her the unfolded veil. "Stay low, try to keep your boots covered. Remember. If you see someone looking your way, stop and hold the veil motionless if you can. Good luck. Hurry back."
"Do you remember anything more of what Jordan told you about using the FWD?"
Amber shook her head. "No. Sorry.”
"Here, take this." Sheila handed Amber the Glock 17 and two loaded magazines. Amber held the pistol in her outstretched hands, reluctantly accepting the weapon and ammunition. Sheila touched the weapon. "The safety is in the trigger. It releases when you pull the trigger. You have seventeen bullets, you’re likely to hit your target with one of them." She grinned. "I'll be back. Don't worry."
Amber remained silent. Sheila disappeared under the veil and slipped through the door, pushing it closed.
#
Crouching under the car, she scanned the area. Seeing nothing she moved quickly across the yard, staying clear of anything that could snag the veil. She reached the chain-link fence surrounding the yard. Following it south a few yards, she saw a well-used hole under the fence. She squatted before removeing the veil and rolled under the fence, quickly covering herself on the other side.
She studied her surroundings.The train they rode in on was about fifty yards behind her. It was much shorter than she had imagined, maybe thirty cars long. Approximately two hundred yards to the south, at the center of the yard, stood a tall control tower. Whomever occupied it commanded a clear field of vision across the entire yard. A cluster of large sheds on the far side of the tower defined the eastern border of the yard. Several small locomotives were in constant motion rearranging the cars. She couldn't see any workers on foot. The shift must have ended. She turned to study the terrain behind her, glancing at the GPS to get her bearings. According to the map, she would have to travel West, parallel to the tracks for a mile or so until she came to a large open space. If the map is correct, the FWD will be located at the center of the open space.
Staying low, she took long, deliberate strides. Still, the lightweight veil material floated like Kleenex in a breeze, exposing her lower legs with every step. She cut across a nearby lot and found herself in an alley that cut between two rows of collapsing houses attached to crumbling garages. Dunes of litter filled every void. Windows were either boarded up or covered with scraps of whatever could be found. Some doors gaped open while others were haphazardly secured. Plastic bottles rolled down the alleys like fallen leaves. Well-trodden paths disappeared then reappeared and were gone again into the maze of rubble. Here and there, makeshift shelters sagged like wet cardboard boxes, each supporting the other. Sheila felt like a ghost as she moved through the neighborhoods.
Block after block of broken and forgotten dreams. These were the border camps. Camps that surrounded ever one of The Colonies. This is where ninety-nine percent of the population now lives. This is where people trade in dime bags of water. Trade for anything that will alter their minds and help them forget.
Sheila moved quicker, taking more chances, like a panther on the hunt, closing on the scent of an unseen prey. She came to the North perimeter of the open field and stopped. There was a crowd around the Federal Water Dispenser.
She watched the activity for several minutes. It appeared as though some members of the crowd were in control of the dispenser. They weren't uniformed, not in the military sense, but they were clearly in command of the dispenser, calling the queue to action with gruff commands one person at a time, orderly and efficient. She crawled forward, close enough to seen that the all the controllers wore something scarlet: hats, scarfs, shirts, jackets, socks or pants or whatever, the were easy to identify. They were definitely in charge.The longer she watched, the better she was able to distinguish the hierarchy of the scarlet gang. The usher, the guy who kept the line in order was a big guy. He did most of the talking so she knew she would have to deal with him. The guy evaluating the goods brought for trade was a skinny guy dressed completely in scarlet. He was the ring leader. He was the guy she would have to pitch to.
Her anxiety was unnecessary. It looked like she simply had to walk up and ask for water...could that be? Wouldn't she stand out? Didn't she look better off than those poor unfortunate bastards in the queue? She glanced at her clothes. They were black with diesel soot and bearing grease. She had blood stains on both boots, pants and jacket cuff. Her fingernails were packed with dirt. She imagined that her face was no cleaner than her boots. She looked like a psycho killer. So much for standing out in the crowd. That settled it. She hunkered behind a pile of broken appliances and placed her pistol on the ground. She carefully removed the veil and covered the gun with it. She stood slowly. Her sudden appearance went unnoticed. She walked toward the crowd with an air of self-assurance.
She gripped the empty hydropack and canteen in her left hand, keeping her right hand free to withdraw her knife if need be. She was close, now but attracted nothing more than a cursory glance. As she joined the queue of twenty or so men and women, a distinctive aroma captured her attention. A particularly filthy man in front of her gripped a small red, gasoline container. She loved the smell of gasoline.
"Is that gasoline?" She was curious. Where did the dirty man find fuel to trade for water. Gasoline was sold only to those inside The Colony. This guy couldn’t live in The Colony any more than he could have five-hundred dollars to spend on a gallon of gasoline.
The man nodded.
"Where did you get it?"
He pointed at The Colony.
"How much...how much did you pay?
The man shrugged. "Many," he said.
"Many? Many money? Many in the city?"
The man nodded. It was clear that he didn't want to talk or didn't speak
"How far? Where?" She tried using sign language, but to no avail. Gas man just shook his head.
As she neared the front of the queue, she could see that people were trading all manner of goods for water; not cheap items, but expensive items. Things she had only seen in pictures. Like gold, lots of gold, watches, jewelry, coins, necklaces and fuel, gas, diesel, kerosene, white gas, and propane cylinders. It was an explosive environment to be sure. She could only assume one thing. All of the items must be coming from inside The Colony. But how? She imagined what life must be like for the people living inside, surrounded by hoards of thieves trying to break in and grab their precious stuff.
The scarlet gang was clearly Asian. They spoke in their native tongue, evaluating the goods and doling out co
mparable portions of water from the dispenser which had obviously been hacked. A long wooden-handle beer tap was affixed to the working end of the dispenser. The handle was painted scarlet.
Nobody argued about the quantity of water they received in trade. The scarlet thugs brandished weapons of all types, most of them rusty and dirty from lack of care and cleaning. The indigents, mostly armed with plastic water jugs, wouldn't stand a chance against the Scarlet gang.
Sheila approached the usher, who managed some broken English, asking all comers the same question.
"Whatchu got?"
Sheila held out the Minnesota map and the Minnesota Water Ration Card. "This is what I have."
"What the fuck is this?" He grabbed the map and gave it a cursory glance before handing it to skinny scarlet seated off to the side of the dispenser. The big usher guy took the Water Ration card and tossed it in the mud below the water tap.
"Does it look like we need that? We don't need no fucking water ration card. What else you got?"
Sheila had to think fast. She, like the others, desperately needed water.
"I have this." She handed the GPS and the Minnesota map to greeter.
"What the fuck is this shit? A phone and some paper? He was about to throw the items in the mud when skinny scarlet stopped him with an outpouring of scarlet language.
"How much," skinny scarlet asked.
"Three gallons."
The scarlet gang laughed in unison. "Three gallons? I'll give you one gallon. Deal?”
Sheila realized he didn't have to give her any water; he had the GPS and the map in his possession. Was he honorable? The thought sounded absurd. Time to find out. She needed more than a gallon. Time to sweeten the deal. She pulled a clip of 9mm out of her back pocket. One she had taken from a dead Black Swan. She stifled a smile.
Skinny got off of his throne, pulling his empty 9mm for effect. He sidled up to Sheila, close enough to smell her, and sniffed loudly, looking all the while at her clip loaded with seventeen hollow-point bullets. He was crowding her now. Testing her.