“Not since the fall – that’s what we call the breakdown of things around here. No reason for anyone to go there. Last I heard, it’s abandoned.”
Jim did his best to hide a frown. Something wasn’t right. Surely the army would have found this place. They had found Spanish Grove, and that was much further away from Atlanta. He shot a quick glance at Peter and could see that he was thinking the same thing.
“What about clones?” he asked. “You see much of them around here?”
Ian cocked his head. “Clones? Never heard of them.”
His response set off warning lights in Jim’s mind, sharply raising his level of concern. He had never known anyone who hadn’t heard of the Shadow People. They may have different names for the various clones, but everyone knew about them. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“Absolutely. What are they?”
Play it cool, Jim told himself. “Never mind. It’s just a rumor I heard. Nothing to worry about.”
They left the main avenue and turned west down a narrow side street. This led to a four way stop where several men were busy gutting an old gas station.
“We’ve done our best to reuse as much as we could,” Ian said. “And we’ve begun to tear down buildings we can no longer use. Keeps rats and other vermin away.”
“What about food?” Jim asked. “It seems like so many people would be hard to keep fed.”
“Almost everyone has their own garden,” he explained. “Some of them are pretty big. Those here who have a skill like carpentry or weaving, trade their goods for extra food. But we’re all responsible for our own meat supply. That’s why my boy was so worried. I’m a cabinet maker. I’ve been too busy lately to go out hunting. Basically, we live on a barter system.”
“It worked for people for thousands of years,” remarked Jim.
Ian nodded. “Exactly. I mean, some people run short now and then, but most here are willing to give others a hand when needed.”
“What if someone gets lazy?” joked Peter. “I don’t suppose you'd have much patience for anyone not pulling their weight.”
“Hasn’t happened so far,” Ian replied. “Not that I know of. But I suppose if it did, they’d starve. That, or we’d run them off.”
Beyond the four way stop, houses lined the avenue. Most were of similar design – single story wood dwellings with a small porch and a brick or stone chimney. They had clearly been built very recently. Jim thought they looked much like frontier cabins.
“We tore down all the old houses,” Ian said before Jim could ask. “They weren’t practical for our new way of life. Most of the gardens are in the backyards. But there are also some big fields a few miles up the road where people grow stuff too.”
Jim marveled at what Constitution had accomplished in such a short time. It had taken months for the people of Fairview to build their platform. And their garden had been tended by nearly everyone who lived there.
“Here we are,” Ian said, pointing to a house at the end of the block. It was much like the others with one exception. The lot beside it had a large, barn-like structure with a covered walkway running from the side over to Ian’s house.
“That’s my workshop,” he said. He kissed his son on the forehead. “But no more work today.”
They had barely set foot in the yard when the house door burst open and a woman came running full speed toward them. She was of average height and wearing a pair of worn but freshly washed jeans, together with a blue tank-top. Her mouse brown hair was tied in a bun and her arms were covered in flour.
“Oh my God, Brian!” she cried. “Where the hell have you been?” She then saw the wound on his arm and immediately burst into tears.
“He’s fine,” Ian assured her. “Thanks to these fella’s here. They found him in the woods outside of town.” He waved an introductory arm. “Jim. Peter. This is my wife, Maggie.”
She threw her arms around Jim, then Peter, thanking them both repeatedly.
“We cleaned the cut on his arm the best we could,” Peter said. “But you might want to take a look. All I had was a basic first aid kit.”
“I’ll take him inside,” Ian said to his wife. “You go fetch Dom Scarpanetti.”
Maggie kissed her husband and son, then hurried down the street back toward town.
“Dom was an EMT,” Ian explained as they approached the front door.
Just as Jim expected, the interior was simple and functional. The main space immediately inside served the triple purpose of living room, kitchen, and dining area. To the right was a cast iron stove sat upon a layer of bricks; a small round table and six chairs stood nearby. On the other side was a couch and two cushioned chairs set in a semi-circle in front of the fireplace. A few bookshelves and family pictures lined the walls, while the wood floor was mostly covered by a collection of handmade rugs. A door at the rear, Jim supposed, led through to the bedrooms. Oil lamps and candles were scattered about, though with the windows open, they were unneeded at present.
Ian gestured for them both to take a seat on the sofa while he took Brian into the back. He rejoined them a few minutes later carrying a six-pack of beer.
“I found these the other day,” he said, handing them each a bottle.
They sat there quietly enjoying the drink until Maggie returned with Dom, a rough looking fellow of about fifty with salt and pepper hair and sharp features. Ian excused himself and followed his wife and Dom into the back.
“There’s something not right,” whispered Peter.
Jim gave a slight nod. He had discovered a fair bit about the people here, but was still missing something. Something important. What was it? He stood up and moved over to the window. A pair of young women were walking by, laughing together as they carried baskets loaded with vegetables. Two men with shovels over their shoulders sauntered along behind them. Jim thought back to his walk through town, still searching for the elusive missing piece. Just as Ian reemerged with Maggie and Dom, it finally struck him.
“Nice job dressing that wound,” Dom stated as he made his way quickly to the door. He left before either Jim or Peter could respond.
“You sure do have a young population here,” Jim said after the door had closed. “That guy Dom is the oldest person I’ve seen so far.”
Ian rubbed his chin. “You know, I’ve never thought about it before. But I suppose you're right.” He plopped down on one of the chairs while Maggie began preparing a meal.
“Figures it would be my turn to make dinner when we have company,” she complained, albeit unconvincingly.
“You know I’ll help if you need me,” Ian told her. He turned to Jim and Peter. “Actually, it’s a damn good thing it’s her turn. My cooking sucks.”
“They say that the best chefs are men,” Peter remarked.
Ian gave a short laugh. “Whoever said that never tasted my cooking.”
They talked for a time, with Jim mostly asking questions about the town and how things were run. He had to admit, in spite of his trepidations, things seemed to be about as normal as one could expect. Later, Ian showed them his workshop, then took them to a circular wooden enclosure at the back of the house where three buckets of water were waiting.
“We're still working on running water,” he said, almost apologetically. On a rail hung a couple of clean shirts and two pairs of loose fitting trousers. He waved a hand in their direction. “These should be more comfortable than what you have on.”
By the time they'd washed and dressed, the sun was going down and Maggie had lit all the candles and lamps. The pleasant aroma of cooked lamb and onions filled the house. As they took seats at the table, Brian emerged looking rested and happy.
“Must be hard raising a child in all this,” Peter remarked.
“It’s not that bad,” Maggie responded. “Brian’s a tough kid. He just makes bad decisions sometimes.”
“His dad was the same way,” added Ian.
“You’re not his father?” Jim asked.
Ian smile
d and shook his head. “Brian’s folks died in a building collapse not long after the fall. We’ve been watching over him ever since.”
“But we love him as much as if he was our own,” Maggie quickly added.
Jim smiled at the scene. It brought back memories of pleasant dinners he had spent with Laura and Meagan, even though Meagan usually cried the entire time. She did not like the high chair, and inevitably Laura would end up with the baby on her lap while Jim unsuccessfully attempted to coax her into eating some peas.
After dinner was finished and Maggie had put Brian to bed, they gathered around the fireplace. Ian produced a bottle of wine, and for a while they talked about life before everything had fallen apart. With the time getting rather late, Peter let out an involuntary yawn.
“I’m afraid we don’t have enough beds,” Maggie said. “But you’re welcome to sleep out here.”
“Don’t be rude,” Ian scolded her. “They can sleep –”
He stopped abruptly in mid-sentence. Both Ian and Maggie’s faces had gone totally blank.
Jim frowned. “Are you all right?” He leaned forward to lightly tap Ian’s knee, but there was no reaction.
“Oh, shit!” hissed Peter, his face suddenly fear stricken.
“What is it?” Jim demanded.
“We need to get the fuck out of here,” he said, already out of his seat and making his way over to their backpacks by the door.
“Slow down,” ordered Jim. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Remember what I told you about the soldiers? How they’d just shut down all of a sudden? It was just like this.”
It did not take more than a moment for the implications of what Peter was saying to sink in. Now equally keen to be gone, Jim raced over to the door and grabbed his backpack. But before he could get it strapped on, he heard the steady rumble of an approaching engine from outside. Both men ducked down and peeked out the window. Headlights coming from the direction of downtown turned out to be an armored personnel carrier crawling along at no more than a walking pace. As it passed by the house, Jim noticed a small dish mounted on its roof. He looked at Peter and placed his finger over his mouth.
Having reached the end of the block, the vehicle turned around and inched past the house again a few minutes later. Jim kept glancing over at Ian and Maggie. What the hell are you, he wondered? Was that dish mounted on the truck causing this reaction in them? But if so, why hadn't he and Peter been affected as well?
After half an hour, the sound of the engine finally faded away completely.
“Where are you going?” The unexpected sound of Ian's voice startled Jim.
Ian and Maggie, both still seated, were looking at them with confusion in their eyes.
“I was just…” Jim fumbled with his pack. “I thought I should clean my weapons before bed.”
“Nonsense,” Maggie said. “That can surely wait until morning.”
“Speaking of guns,” said Ian. “Tomorrow, do you think you can show me where you came across Brian? I need to try and find where he lost my shotgun. Damn things are hard to come by these days.”
Jim sat his backpack down and reluctantly returned to his seat. “Sure. No problem.”
Peter was still looking petrified.
“What’s wrong?” asked Ian.
Peter blinked several times before managing to force a smile. “Oh, nothing,” he said unconvincingly, moving back to his seat as well.
Jim could see that his hands were trembling. “Is there anyone else living nearby?” he asked, trying to divert Ian and Maggie’s attention away from Peter’s agitated condition.
“If you mean, are there other towns around here - then no,” Ian replied. “Not that I know of, anyway. But then again, we don’t wander too far from Constitution.”
Maggie hopped up and returned with a couple of blankets and pillows.
“Didn't I say they could use our beds,” chided Ian. “We’ll sleep out here.”
“I think I’d rather sleep near the fire,” Jim said quickly. “If that’s all right with you.”
“Yeah, me too,” added Peter.
“You sure?” Ian persisted.
“Absolutely,” replied Jim. “Besides, after the scare you've had, I’m sure Maggie wants to be as near to Brian as possible.”
“You see?” she said. “That’s a man who understands women.”
Ian gave a good-natured grin. “On that note, I will say goodnight.” With a tired groan, he heaved himself up and started to the bedroom. After thanking them once again for helping Brian, Maggie followed him.
Jim took the couch while Peter remained settled on a chair. They waited until they could hear the deep breathing of restful sleep coming from the back rooms before creeping over to the door. Each step produced a creak in the floorboards that caused Jim to wince, and the rattling of his backpack when he picked it up seemed to be as loud as a whole belfry of church bells ringing. Even so, they thankfully reached the porch without incident. Here, they picked up their boots beside the steps and made their way to the roadside. Once confident that Ian and Maggie had not been roused, they ducked behind Ian’s workshop to change back into their own clothes and strap on their weapons.
They set off toward where Ian had said the larger fields were. After passing the last house, Peter breathed a deep sigh of relief.
“What do you think is going on in this town?” Jim asked him.
“I don’t know,” Peter replied, looking anxiously back over his shoulder. “And I’m not sticking around to find out.”
“But what’s happening here could be vital to everything,” Jim countered. “Maybe this is the key to the whole collapse.”
“You want to go back? Is that what you're saying?”
“No. But I wouldn’t mind knowing where that personnel carrier went to.”
Peter scowled. “Are you crazy? I’m not fucking around with the army. No way.”
“I’m not saying we should. But it might be worth knowing where they are.”
“And just how do you propose we do that?”
Jim knelt beside the road and pointed north. “The truck headed back into town before it left. We’ve already seen what’s to the south. So it either went north or east. I say we cut through the woods here, then hit the road north of town. If that’s where they went, we might just spot them.”
“Or they might spot us,” snapped Peter. “You're fucking nuts. Why go looking for trouble?”
Jim’s logic was saying that Peter was right. There was no real need to risk being seen. But something inside was nagging at him. For some reason he needed to know what was happening here. “You can stay behind if you want,” he said. “But I have to find out what’s going on.”
Peter breathed an exasperated sigh. “You’re going to get us both killed.”
Jim winked at him, then grinned. “At least that way we won’t have to go all the way to Atlanta before dying.”
They crossed a field filled with green beans and squash before entering a thick wooded area. The darkness was forcing them to move with great care, and low hanging branches and hidden roots plagued their progress further. It was two hours before they were finally able to turn east toward the main road leaving town.
As they drew closer, the forest thinned and Jim could see several lights ahead. At the edge of the tree line was a tall, chain linked fence surrounding a two story building. Several military trucks were scattered about…including the vehicle they had seen in town. The area was well lit, but there did not appear to be any guards posted. They watched for more than an hour, but nothing moved and no one left the building.
“I haven’t seen electric lights in two years,” Jim whispered. Taking off his backpack, he stashed it beside a thin pine. He then handed Peter the AR-15 and carefully checked his .45.
Peter frowned. “You’re not seriously thinking of going in there?”
“You bet I am. If they’re arrogant enough to leave the front unguarded, I’m taking advantage of it.
”
“Go on your own then,” Peter shot back. “There could be a hundred men inside for all you know.”
Jim gave a lopsided smile. “True. And in that case you’ll see me hauling tail back out again pretty damn quick. Anyhow, I don’t want you to go in with me. I might need you to cover my ass again.” He gestured to the rifle. “Just be ready with that.”
Peter continued grumbling as he searched for the extra clips. “I can’t believe you’re doing this,” he muttered several times over.
Jim had to admit that he was finding it hard to believe himself. He was normally a rational man, not prone to heading blindly into danger. But something was now driving him - a force that was growing stronger with each passing day. He had an irrepressible need to know what had happened to cause the breakdown in society. And, even more importantly, where exactly he fit into it all.
Clutching a pair of wire snips taken from his pack, he crawled forward with methodical deliberation, checking every few feet for any hint of security measures or movement beyond the fence. The artificial lights made everything look odd: kind of out of place and casting strange shadows. It took Jim a few minutes to adjust to this. He laughed inwardly at how life without technology had so quickly changed his perceptions.
A disturbing thought occurred just as he reached the perimeter. His snips were not insulated. What if the fence was electrified? After a few moments of inner debate, he decided to risk it anyway. Holding his breath, he counted to three and brushed the tip of the snips quickly against the wire. Nothing happened. The air trapped inside his lungs escaped in a long sigh of relief. He set to work, and a couple of minutes later had cut away a small section at the base of the fence just large enough to squeeze through.
Once on the other side, he hurried over into cover behind a nearby Humvee. He waited there for more than five minutes, making certain that he had not set off any alarms such as motion detectors.
He was just about to move further forward when, with a screech, the front door to the building opened and a man wearing a white lab coat stepped out. For a few seconds he looked out over the complex, then pulled a cigarette pack from his pocket. Realizing he had not been spotted, Jim breathed an inward sigh of relief. Only a few minutes passed before the man flicked the less than half smoked butt carelessly away and returned inside.
Tallos - Episode Two (Season One) Page 5