They’d walked inside, and Carter was staring up at the twenty-foot ceiling. Sunlight pierced through, negating the need for lights, though he noticed there were lights installed along tracks. He supposed they were for nighttime or cloudy days.
“A couple of years before. Their intention was to build mobile structures that allowed for flexibility rather than permanent structures with a single purpose. The canopies replace what would have been permanent walls.”
“And ceilings.” Lanh sounded as impressed as Carter was feeling.
“And ceilings,” Daylon agreed. “These block structures you see can be rearranged, repurposed, even recycled.”
He proceeded to give them a tour through the building, pointing out the different areas, what people were working on, what they hoped to accomplish, and an abbreviated timeline of their goals.
Carter’s thoughts jumped from idea to idea, revelation to revelation. He forgot about his diabetes, stopped worrying about their next meal, and didn’t once question whether they were safe. They were safe. Their next meal was guaranteed, and his insulin levels had been fine that morning. He was starting to feel like his old self, his pre-flare self. Maybe that was because of everything they were seeing. It helped to dispel the sense of gloom that had pervaded their life since the flare tripped their collective breaker.
SIXTY-EIGHT
Carter and Lanh met up with their group for lunch. Shelby had conducted another dozen interviews. “I’d like to develop some pamphlets and send them out with people as they travel through Abney.”
Gabe stopped eating, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Without divulging the location of New Town.”
“Yeah. Of course. But it’s not the where that matters. It’s that there’s hope, that there’s something in our future other than darkness and hunger.”
That quieted everyone, and they all focused on their lunches, which were MREs. The real food was provided at breakfast and dinner.
Lanh kicked Carter’s foot.
When he glanced up, Lanh nodded toward Shelby and arched his eyebrows, but Carter shook his head and returned his attention to his food. He wasn’t ready. He had to do it, and he knew it was the right decision, but he wasn’t ready yet.
Captain MacRae appeared beside their table. “Your supplies are ready over at loading dock nine.”
“We appreciate it.” Max stood and shook the captain’s hand. “The people of Abney appreciate it. The medication is desperately needed. Thank you.”
“We’re not against helping people.” MacRae had the straightest posture of anyone Carter had ever known, even straighter than Gabe’s. But she seemed to relax slightly as she stepped closer and added, “We want to help, especially if we can trust it will actually arrive at the intended location.”
“We’ll do our best,” Patrick said.
Max and Patrick left to pack the supplies into the back of the Hummer.
Gabe left for yet another meeting. “Some things about the military haven’t changed one bit,” he grumbled as he gulped down his coffee and followed a second lieutenant out of the mess hall.
“I’m headed over to the grade school to interview a class of third graders.” Shelby made it sound like a trip to the beach. “Anyone want to go with me?”
“Can’t,” Bianca said. “I have more medical training.”
“And, we—” Carter gave Lanh his best help me look. The last thing he wanted to do was spend an afternoon in grade school.
“Oh, yeah. We were wanting to see this uh…thing…place.”
Shelby rolled her eyes. “Fine. I don’t mind going alone,” she said, and then she smiled before leaving—a small thing, but it settled some of the nerves in Carter’s stomach.
Bianca looked at them. “Tell me what you two are up to.”
“Nothing,” Carter said, maybe too quickly.
“We don’t know what you mean.”
“We’re just…hanging out.”
She stared at them a minute before shaking her finger and saying, “Come with me. Triage training is important stuff, regardless of what plan you guys have up your sleeves.”
As they hustled over to the medical center, Bianca gave them a rundown of her morning. “I learned to separate people into groups if we have another disaster.”
“What kind of disaster?” Lanh asked.
“You name it: attacks from an outlaw group, some type of explosion, fires like we had on the square last summer, even a flu epidemic.”
Carter didn’t want to think of any of those things, but not thinking of them didn’t make them any less possible. So he asked, “How do you separate them?”
“Immediate, which is life-threatening. Delayed, which can wait to be treated if need be. Minor, which is exactly what it sounds like. And dead.”
“Good grief. I hope there won’t be a need for that in Abney.”
“We could have used someone taking care of those things in Austin,” Lanh said. “It was pretty much utter chaos, and a lot of people…well, let’s say the bodies started to pile up. Those days in Austin seem like a nightmare now. Like something that happened to somebody else.”
“Think about it, though. If our group hadn’t run into you, we probably would have never made it out of Austin, and we sure wouldn’t have found the insulin Carter has been using this last year.”
“I owe you, man.” Carter bumped his shoulder against Lanh’s.
“No problem.”
And that was the way it was between them, the way it had been since Lanh had joined them at High Fields. In every way, he was like the brother that Carter had never had.
“So where are we going now?” Carter asked.
“To meet the man in charge of homeopathy.”
“Home what?”
But they were already entering what looked like a combination laboratory, medical clinic, and produce department. Carter’s mind slipped back to his days working in the grocery store in Abney. There was no longer a store to work in. It had been looted, then burned, and finally abandoned.
“High tech meets homeopathic,” Bianca muttered.
Carter wasn’t sure what that meant, but it sounded good to him.
Dr. Aiyanna Charley introduced herself.
“Charley is your last name?” Lanh asked.
“It is.”
“And your first name is A…” Carter tried to pronounce it the way the doctor had, which caused everyone to laugh, including himself.
“I’m Native American, and yes—my name is difficult to pronounce. You can call me Doc Charley, like everyone else does.”
Doc Charley had skin that reminded Carter of a road map. Her hair was white, pulled back in a leather band, and reached her waist. But if he thought she was too old to know what she was doing, she quickly altered that opinion. The woman was sharp, energetic, and had a great sense of humor. If they still had such a thing as television, she would have made a great central character in a medical drama.
She walked them through the room that was filled with herbs and other plants he couldn’t identify, down a hall where they could view workers learning acupressure, and lastly to a courtyard filled with bee boxes.
“Honey?” Bianca asked.
“Actually, what we’re after here is the bee pollen, which has been used for hundreds of years by herbalists.” Doc Charley smiled, and her eyes nearly disappeared in a myriad of lines. “My grandmother insisted we have some twice a week—sort of like a vitamin. We’re only now discovering the science behind many of the traditional treatments. For example, samples of bee pollen have been proven to contain nearly two hundred kinds of fungi and almost thirty types of bacteria.”
“What good is that?” Bianca asked. “What I mean is…what could it be used for?”
“Health supplements, vitamins, and treatments for certain ailments. As you all know, it will be many years before factories are running again. In the meantime, we need to learn to use all that nature offers us, all that God has provided.”
I
t surprised Carter to hear an old Indian doctor talk about God, but he realized that was closed-minded of him. Anyone could read the Bible and believe, or have a conversion, or grow in the faith. Hadn’t he grown since he was a high school senior playing video games and waiting to traipse off to college? Sure, he had been expressing his doubts to Max only two days ago, but what was it he had asked? What was the one question he’d mulled over the most since leaving High Fields? Even before that, since they’d left Abney? What was his purpose? Why was he still alive? What was he supposed to do with his life?
And Max’s answer, which had made no sense at the time, had been, God will show you your purpose. Perhaps God had. Maybe his purpose was here in New Town.
SIXTY-NINE
When they were nearly finished with the tour, Doc Charley pulled him aside and offered suggestions for ways to stretch what insulin he had left. “We do understand what medications are most critical, and we’re working to start producing those again as soon as possible.”
“But—”
“It’s going to be a while. We obviously don’t have a pharmaceutical plant, the ability to build one, or the resources to power one.”
“But it doesn’t have to be a plant on the scale that you’re thinking,” Carter argued. “You’re building a prototype here. You’ve included power, communication, and security using new technology in your plans, but you’re content to address medical issues with bees and plants.”
He held his hands up and shook his head. “I didn’t mean that as disrespectfully as it sounded.”
Doc Charley cocked her head and studied him. “How can we do what you’re suggesting? Our resources are severely limited.”
“Instead of rebuilding the huge pharmaceutical plants of the past, think about local apothecaries—ones that use new technology for discovery, testing, and distribution.”
“On a small scale.”
“Exactly. So each town doesn’t have to depend on a truck from a factory hundreds of miles away.”
“It wouldn’t be cost efficient.”
“It would, because you wouldn’t have huge companies with billion-dollar marketing campaigns.” Carter hadn’t realized how passionate he felt about this, but he’d spent his entire life immersed in the medical world because of his condition. It didn’t have to be as convoluted as it had become. He didn’t know how to explain that, how to explain how simple it was in his mind. He settled for, “We have to think differently. Forget how it was done before and think…forward.”
Doc Charley stared at a spot in the distance for a moment, and Carter wondered if he’d sounded like a naive eighteen-year-old. He felt older than that, but that didn’t mean the doctor would take him seriously.
“Here’s the thing, Carter. We can try our best to anticipate the needs out there, but you’ve seen what they are firsthand. You’ve lived through them. Someone my age has experience and knowledge, and we can try to envision the future, but your generation is the future. You should have a voice in what it looks like.”
“I don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I’m saying we could use someone with your perspective and talents. I’m saying you should think about staying.”
Carter didn’t know how to answer that. He’d already decided he was staying. He and Lanh had made that decision the first night. But he hadn’t been able to see how he might fit in. Was this it? Could he have a hand in creating the next generation of medicinal supplies?
“Promise me you’ll think about it.”
Carter nodded, and then Bianca and Lanh rejoined them, talking about the therapeutic properties of cactus.
When they’d come out of Doc Charley’s building—that was how Carter thought of it now and probably how he always would—Bianca caught sight of Patrick across the town green.
“Later, guys.” A smile and a wave and she was gone.
“They’re such dorks,” Lanh said.
“Now they’re kissing in public.”
“I’d be happy to find a woman like Bianca.”
“That’s kind of gross…she’s like my aunt.”
“Sorry.”
“Forgiven.”
They walked over to a bench, sat down, and watched people walk back and forth. Lanh broke the silence.
“So you’re cool with this being our new home? Because if you’re having second thoughts, I wouldn’t hold it against you.”
“I’m not having second thoughts. I’m trying to process all we’ve seen.”
“Same here.” Lanh crossed his arms and frowned at something he was remembering. “Their thinking is limited by how things were.”
Carter nodded but still said, “Give me an example.”
“Robotics. Other than the drones, they consider the field a lost cause. That’s not necessarily the case, though, and with reduced resources, we need that type of advancement more than ever.”
“I had a similar discussion with the doctor.” Carter cleared his throat, sat forward with his elbows on his knees, and glanced over at his friend. “Doc Charley asked me to stay.”
“She wants your talents in the medical field, huh?”
Carter shrugged.
“When we were touring the cactus lab, my tour guide mentioned the same thing. She said it when Bianca was out of earshot. Said they need people our age.”
“Because we are the future.”
“Exactly. Think it’s a line they give to everyone?”
“No. In general, I think they probably have more people than they need here in New Town.”
“Then why ask us to stay? It’s not as if we’re engineers or scientists, and they could be rid of us tomorrow morning.”
Carter pulled off his cowboy hat—Max’s old hat—and studied it for a moment. He’d wondered the very same thing Lanh was asking. Why would the powers that be in New Town want a diabetic eighteen-year-old and an Asian guy? What did they have to offer?
But he knew deep inside that the answer didn’t much matter. Here they could make a difference. Back at High Fields, they were able to lend a hand, but they also used up precious resources. It made perfect sense for them to stay. All that was left was to figure out how to tell his mom.
SEVENTY
Max was amazed at how quickly they’d fallen into a routine. Their group met together for dinner, sharing what they’d seen, what they’d learned, and questions they still had. Afterward, as they had the night before, they walked out to the village green. The area was full of families—young families with toddlers running out the last of their energy and babies lying on blankets. Teenagers grouped together, laughing about something, and then getting up to play with a Frisbee. Where had they found that?
Then there were the older folks—people Max’s age. Except he didn’t feel that old. He felt more like the goofy teenager leaping to catch a Frisbee, missing it, and falling to the ground with a laugh. He was certain that a core part of himself was still that age. Another part was old enough to care more about catching Shelby’s hand than a Frisbee. She allowed it while they were walking, but then she pulled away from him and sat on the far side of their circle.
It felt good to be with others and yet together. They would soon be back on the road, back to depending on each other, and Max understood that they needed to gather their strength now.
“We should talk about tomorrow,” Gabe said.
“Specifically?” Patrick stopped rubbing Bianca’s shoulders and sat forward, suddenly all attention.
“Routes. I’ve received a few pass codes, and I think we can make it back more quickly and with fewer mishaps.” He pulled out a map and showed them a route that skimmed Oklahoma City to the east, continued down west of Fort Worth and dumped them right back onto Highway 281 north of Abney.
“You think we can get through here?” Max tapped the Dallas–Fort Worth metroplex. “They were nuked. Remember?”
“Which is why the military has been able to go back in and establish a presence. They’ve transported out the survivors,
though there were precious few. Mostly people who had tornado basements, enough food to last them, that sort of thing.”
“Why go that way at all?” Shelby asked. “Why not go back the way we came?”
“We could,” Gabe admitted. “But reports are that Wichita Falls has expanded their borders. And we definitely can’t cross the border on NASA’s road.”
“They found it?” Bianca reached up and rubbed her shoulder like she had a crick in her neck. Maybe she did. Their cots were good, but they were still cots. She was probably ready to be home in her own bed. But she wouldn’t be going there. She’d be going to Patrick’s. They were ready to start their life together. She glanced up, seemed to read Max’s mind, and smiled.
“They did. We won’t be crossing there because there’s a new toll booth—group of goons that the government plans to deal with in the next week.”
“Too late for us,” Shelby noted.
“Our other option is to go farther west, which would be a significant detour.”
Max noticed that Carter and Lanh weren’t saying much. They were listening, but they weren’t offering an opinion, which was completely out of character.
“Do you feel good about the new route?” Patrick asked.
“Yes. The military codes will give us access to I-35 where it crosses the Red River, as well as guarantee safe travel around the Dallas–Fort Worth area.”
“I thought the government wasn’t branching out.” Shelby rubbed her index finger over her thumb—back and forth, back and forth, like a worry stone. “I thought it was going to be years.”
Gabe didn’t answer immediately. He glanced around to be sure no one was in listening distance, and still he lowered his voice. “We have twelve separate prototypical towns or government centers…”
“Twelve?” Shelby asked.
“At least, and they plan to extend to twenty-four by the end of the year.” He held up his hand when Bianca started firing questions. “That’s all I can tell you. The point is, the central government understands the importance of maintaining corridors of transportation, and they’ve managed to do that. We can get through this way.”
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