SIXTY-ONE
Max drew the last shift. He didn’t mind. He’d actually slept pretty well in his bedroll underneath the Kansas night sky. Once he’d heard Shelby’s breathing even out, he was able to stop worrying about her, and sleep came immediately.
Now he was wide awake and eager to find out what the day would bring.
He watched the lights on the horizon fade away as the morning sky lightened. He prayed, as the pinpricks of hope disappeared, that they represented what they’d been searching for. He had no illusions that the US government could or would sweep in and fix everything, but in that moment between night and dawn, he understood how weary his group was. And if they felt this way when they had each other, transportation, and a reasonable amount of food…how did the majority of Americans feel?
He hadn’t spent too much time thinking beyond what was needed for the next day. They’d been thrust into a moment-by-moment existence. But as he gazed northwest at the few remaining lights, he knew that they needed more than their daily needs met. They needed hope for their future. What was that verse his mother had attempted to hammer into his head? Something from the Old Testament. “I know the plans I have for you…plans to give you hope and a future.”
Did he still believe that?
He wanted to. He desperately wanted to.
He was trudging back toward the group, anticipating the taste of a granola bar and instant coffee, when something whizzed by his head.
He ducked, swiped at it, and stumbled into the campground.
“There’s some kind of psycho bird or buzzard or…”
“Drone.” Carter was sitting up, staring at the device that was hovering at eye level in front of him. He offered a small wave, and the drone darted away.
Shelby pulled out her Glock.
“You don’t want to do that,” Patrick said.
Gabe strode toward the middle of the group and waited. The drone paused before each person, and then it circled, rose, dove, and settled directly in front of Gabe.
“Authentication number 7478463291. Thompson, Gabriel. US Air Force. MD. Rank O-5.”
“What’s O-5?” Shelby whispered.
“Lieutenant colonel.” Patrick never took his eyes off the drone.
The drone hovered there, no doubt waiting on a command from someone higher up the military food chain. Max was slightly embarrassed that he hadn’t realized what it was. But then he’d been living without technology for nearly a year. The thing could have probably bumped into him, and he’d have thought it was a bat.
Without any warning or explanation, it darted into the sky and was gone.
“What now?” Lanh asked.
Gabe glanced around at them, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Now we wait.”
They didn’t have to wait long. By the time they’d finished their campground breakfast and replaced their bedrolls into the Hummer, the sound of vehicles approaching filled the air.
“Leave the weapons,” Gabe muttered.
They stood in front of the Hummer, lined up and watching two jeeps approach.
By the time they came to a halt, Gabe had stepped forward.
The jeeps’ occupants dispersed around their group in a semicircle, rifles up and ready.
As one, each person in their group raised their hands.
“We’ve left our weapons in the vehicle,” Gabe said.
“We require confirmation that you are who you say you are.” The leader of the group was female, tall, thin, and probably thirty years old. She had an obvious no-nonsense air about her.
Gabe slowly rolled up his left sleeve and held out his arm.
The leader nodded once to the person on her right, who stepped forward, pulled out what looked like a stun gun, walked directly up to Gabe, and pointed it at his arm.
A light flashed, the man stared at the small screen, and then said, “Confirmed,” before returning to his place in the formation.
“I’m Captain Jenny MacRae. Welcome to New Town, home of the US government.”
SIXTY-TWO
Carter didn’t know what to think. One part of him—probably the kid part of him—had expected a warmer welcome. The older, more cynical part of him had half figured that they’d be threatened or even shot. Questions twirled in his head as the captain motioned for them to get back into the Hummer.
When did the US government get into the business of founding cities?
How long had New Town been there?
Was that name some kind of joke?
And what was on Gabe’s arm that had confirmed he was who he said he was?
MacRae led the way in one of the jeeps, and the other jeep followed behind them.
“Guess they don’t want us to make a break for it across the hills.” Lanh rolled his eyes and attempted a laugh.
Carter could tell he was on edge. Lanh had been living with them for eight months. They knew each other’s quirks. “It’ll be fine, man. We’re headed into civilization.”
“We’re headed into something,” his mom said.
But the road to New Town was no smoother than what they’d been traveling on across the Flint Hills. In fact, there was no road as far as Carter could tell. That was the first thing that was odd. Carter had expected to see at least a caliche road or dirt track, but instead, the grassland went right up to the wall.
And the wall…well, it wasn’t much of a wall. There was no wire, no brick or concrete structure at all. But there was definitely a perimeter. MacRae’s jeep slowed down, and a green light flashed once. Carter caught it out of the corner of his eye and swiveled his head left and then right.
Patrick pointed to what looked like deer stands, only they were taller and set at regular intervals. “Guard towers. Probably that green flash was a security beam as well. Even if you managed to stumble in here in the middle of the night, you’d trip the perimeter wire.”
“But there is no wire,” Bianca said.
“Underground. We passed one, and there’s another.” They trundled past a marker hammered into the ground. It looked no bigger than a stake that Max might have set out to measure off a garden. As they passed it, Carter saw the green light flash again. “A double perimeter—smart.”
“Captain MacRae apparently called ahead, or we would have been stopped,” Gabe said.
“How big is this place?” Bianca asked.
“And how many people are there?” His mom was leaning over Max, her nose practically smashed against the side window.
They passed hundreds of rows of tents. “Similar to what we had in the Middle East,” Gabe said. “They can withstand heat or cold.”
And then they moved toward structures that seemed more permanent, but Carter had no idea what materials they could be made from.
“It’s not brick,” he said to Lanh. “Looks more like canopies stretched over…something.”
“Can’t be concrete or wood. There’s none of that around here, so whatever it is…they brought it in with them.”
“Or they made it here.”
But he didn’t see anything that looked like a manufacturing plant, and besides, running any type of plant would take a lot of energy, and he didn’t get the sense that they had anything near that kind of output capacity. Had they actually even seen electricity the night before? There were no power lines and no substations. There was a good-sized stream they passed over, and Carter realized that would have been another way to find them—follow the streams. Every civilization needed water, regardless what other technology they had.
There were also strange-looking trees in front of some buildings. Some were obviously artificial. Others had what looked like chimes hanging from them. Still more buildings had several windmills close by. “Always slightly taller than the structure,” Lanh noted.
And there were solar panels. Lots of solar panels. The March sun glinted off rows of them on the tops of roofs, positioned to the sides of buildings, and one entire field of them that looked like crops, shimmering in the mornin
g light.
They came to a stop, interrupting the dozens of questions popping up into Carter’s head.
Stepping out of the Hummer, they found themselves in front of what looked like an old ranch house. It had a porch with three steps and columns positioned regularly across the length of it, which was half the length of the house. The place looked like something he might see in Abney, and that thought stirred a sudden homesickness in him.
“This way,” Captain MacRae said. But she was only talking to Gabe. That much was evident.
“We stay together,” Gabe said.
“Of course, but perhaps your friends would be more comfortable in the mess hall while you meet with General Massey.”
“My friends will stay with me, Captain.”
Carter wanted to hug the good doctor then, but instead he pulled himself up to his full five feet eleven and attempted to scowl at her.
She shook her head in mock desperation and said, “Fine. Have it your way, sir. But they’re serving pancakes this morning.”
Carter and Lanh jogged up the porch steps behind his mom and Max, who were following Patrick and Bianca and Gabe.
“Did she say pancakes?” Lanh asked.
“Pancakes, syrup, real milk…” The army grunt behind them cracked a smile. “Welcome to the new world.”
SIXTY-THREE
Shelby had the absurd notion that they were following the yellow brick road, heading to see the great and mighty wizard. She stepped inside the home and stopped, staring at a light switch on the wall. Walking over to it, she placed her hand on the switch. Carter had stopped beside her, and the army guy at the back was watching them with an amused look on his face.
She couldn’t resist.
She’d dreamed of this moment, wondered if it would ever happen, prayed it might.
She pushed the switch up, and the light in the hallway came on.
“Like old times, right? Except we don’t use them during the day. Saves on power.” The army guy grinned and then motioned toward the rest of their group, who were now waiting at the end of the hall.
They were ushered into a room where a general with snow-white hair and crow’s-feet around his eyes sat behind a large, wooden desk. His skin was a dark black, and he sported four stars on his uniform, which was crisply pressed.
How had anyone ironed a uniform?
At High Fields, they were lucky to be able to wash their clothes, and they didn’t do that very often. Georgia had managed to iron the men’s shirts for the wedding, but day-to-day hygiene had changed. In fact, Shelby was suddenly aware that she had dirt smeared across her shirt, blood on her hiking pants, and when she reached up and touched her hair, she found it was frizzed out to an alarming height. None of that mattered, though. All that mattered was the man sitting in front of them and what he might or might not say.
The general was frowning at a report as they entered the room, but he quickly tossed it aside and walked around the desk to greet them. “I’m General Massey, and you have arrived all the way from Texas. I can’t tell you what a pleasure this is.”
Gabe stepped forward, saluted, and introduced himself and then everyone else in the group. “It’s a pleasure, sir, and a relief for us as well. We had no idea if you were actually here.”
The general shook hands with everyone, and then he motioned them toward seats positioned in a semicircle in front of the desk—seven seats, so MacRae must have called ahead. She must have known they would all insist on staying together despite her attempt to lure them away with talk of pancakes. Shelby’s stomach growled at the mere mention of anything that didn’t sprout from an MRE bag.
Massey sat down heavily in the large leather chair behind the desk.
“We’re here all right. This—” He waved toward the window, encompassing all of New Town with the gesture. “This isn’t a figment of your imagination. And I’ll be happy to answer your questions if I can, but first tell me about Governor Reed. The last we heard she was attempting to hold the capital.”
“Not anymore,” Patrick said. “Austin fell on February 25.”
Gabe took up the story. “Reed is in Corpus Christi, trying to maintain some semblance of a state government.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. We haven’t had any reports in…well, in months.”
Shelby couldn’t keep quiet a moment longer. This man was tucked away in a utopia compared to Austin. Didn’t he understand what was happening in the small and large towns of America? “Why haven’t you sent someone to help? Was your plan to sit here and wait until each state comes to you?”
If Massey was surprised at her boldness, he didn’t show it. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and studied her for a moment. “We decided, and it was a unanimous consensus, that a weak federal government would be worse than no government at all.”
“What does that mean?” Lanh asked.
“It means they’re biding their time here until they can be effective.” Max’s right ankle was propped over his left knee. He pulled off his hat and balanced it there on his boot.
“That’s part of it, yes. We haven’t forgotten that we exist for the people. We represent the people, and those same people are our responsibility.”
“But they’re starving.” Bianca sat forward, her hands clasped together. “They need medicine, doctors, food, supplies. Do you have those things here?”
“We have some, but not enough.”
“Any amount would help,” Patrick said.
“Would it? Or would it create more chaos, panic, looting, and killing?” Massey shook his head. “We tried it—Baltimore, Philadelphia, Columbus. At least half a dozen more. We tried to go in, establish a presence, and ration out supplies. In each and every situation, we lost men, and we didn’t improve the conditions one bit.”
“Thugs overpowered the US military?” Bianca sat back. “I don’t believe it.”
“The military exists at the discretion of the people. Once the general populace loses faith in it, once they lose respect for it, we don’t stand a chance unless we’re willing to shoot everyone in our path. Which we were not willing to do, so we withdrew and moved to Plan B.”
“And what was Plan B?” Gabe asked.
“To come up with a prototype.”
“A prototype?” Lanh and Carter’s words rang out in unison.
Shelby thought of the work Carter had done in Abney in Coach Parish’s lab. What had their group been called? The Brainiacs, and they’d created a solar oven that had actually worked. Another team had attempted to make a windmill out of old bicycle parts. They were building prototypes—models—that others could copy.
“You’re building a model?” she asked.
“What did you think we’ve been doing tucked away in a remote location?” When no one answered, Massey added, “We’ve been building the prototype for the new American town.”
SIXTY-FOUR
A young woman dressed in army camouflage escorted them from General Massey’s building to their barracks. The room was longer than a football field. The structure seemed to be made of some sort of canvas material, and cots were set up in half a dozen rows that stretched the entire length of the room.
“We were able to put you in the same section. Showers are at the far end, and Captain MacRae has ordered the mess hall to remain open for you.”
“Did she say showers?” Bianca stared after the young woman as she walked away.
Their packs had been placed at the foot of their beds.
“Firearms are gone,” Patrick said.
“I’ll make sure they’re returned before we leave.” Gabe gave their group a good, long visual examination. He didn’t try to hide his smile when he said, “You all look terrible. Showers, grub, and then stop by medical.”
“You ordering us around, Gabe?” Max had stretched out on his cot and didn’t seem inclined to move.
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
When Shelby stepped under the spray, all of her worries and questions and anxie
ty melted away. She’d forgotten what a hot shower felt like. How long had it been? Nine months? Of course, they’d bathed at High Fields, but those baths had been hurried things in a tub with an inch of water that had been heated on the stove. This? The water cascading over her felt as if it had arrived straight from heaven. She opened her eyes and squinted at a message that had been inked in permanent marker on the wall. “Shower will stop after 90 seconds.” Okay, not heaven, she decided as she reached for the shampoo. But for today? It was close enough.
Breakfast was oatmeal with raisins and nuts, and real coffee.
Oatmeal, basically warm granola, and nearly as good as the meal that Stu and Mary Jane had served them. Shelby reveled in it.
The nurse on duty in medical tsked as she redressed their various wounds, but she declared them fit to walk about. Which was when they decided to go different directions.
Shelby wasn’t sure that breaking up was a good idea, but after the general’s talk, they had a lot of questions they wanted answered. Captain MacRae offered guides, but she also said that they were free to move about New Town unescorted. They agreed to find lunch on their own and meet back at the main mess hall for dinner.
It seemed too easy.
“Is this entire place run by the air force?” Shelby asked. They were standing in a small circle, having had a full breakfast, which made her a little sleepy. She noticed Max stifling a yawn and Patrick rolling his shoulders. Only Carter and Lanh seemed completely awake.
“General Massey is air force. Four stars if you didn’t notice.” Gabe scanned left and right. “I’ve seen army as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if all the branches are represented.”
Lanh and Carter took off to view the research center.
Patrick and Bianca chose to visit the school as well as the medical facility.
Light of Dawn Page 24