As we neared the end of the boatyard, Lance stopped and turned around. The rest of us stopped as well, and most returned their attention to him. Jason, however, continued studying the way ahead, and I couldn’t help but do the same. Small buildings lined the road on the right, and most of the slips in the marina on the left were occupied by sailboats or clusters of smaller, rowable vessels.
“This is the New Bodega town center,” Lance said. He pointed his thumb over his right shoulder, indicating the marina’s large boathouse; it was where we’d met with the Town Council and most of the townspeople back in January. “That’s Town Hall, where the Council meeting will take place. There will be a reception with food and refreshments in the banquet room upstairs, where you’ll have a chance to get to know us better in a more informal setting.”
Lance switched hands, pointing over his left shoulder. “Here’s the general store, grocer, hardware supply, and hunting and fishing supply shop. We operate on a simple barter system here, so if you want something, you’ll have to trade for it. If you end up staying in New Bodega, you’ll be provided daily rations, so you won’t have to worry about bartering for food. And we have a steady supply of clean water, courtesy of a few of our people whose mutation enables them to desalinate and cleanse water of impurities.”
That caused my eyebrows to raise. It sounded a lot like Tavis’s Ability, though he’d never tried to do anything like remove salt from water—or, likely, freshwater from saltwater—but I didn’t see any reason why he couldn’t.
“Also,” Lance said, once again raising his right hand to point over his shoulder at what lay on the marina side of the road, “the parking lot beyond Town Hall has become the marketplace, where people set up shop in a more temporary manner, selling surplus food and other supplies. We usually have a few outside traders there as well; currently there are two, one from another settlement down south, in the Monterey area, the other a roving trader. And beyond the market, we’re in the process of developing several industrial shops—blacksmithing and metallurgy, woodworking, that sort of thing.”
I watched Jason turn his full attention to Lance, a curious, considering expression on his face.
Turning, Lance continued down the road toward Town Hall. We passed the surprisingly crowded marketplace on our right. With only several seconds’ examination, I noted that it looked just like a small run-of-the-mill farmer’s market.
“You can tie up your horses here,” Lance said, stopping by a bike rack partway up the cement path to the Town Hall’s main entrance. “The Council will be ready for you at five.” Lance peeked down at his watch. “That gives you a little over a half hour to explore. Feel free to wander around, just please don’t keep the Council waiting.”
We all nodded and said our thanks, and Lance quickly disappeared into the Town Hall, leaving us to tie our mounts to the bike rack. I felt giddy at the opportunity to explore this so familiar, yet so foreign place, and at the same time, I was bummed that I didn’t—nor did any of my companions—have anything to barter with on hand.
“Hey,” Zoe said, apparently picking up on my emotions. She linked her arm with mine and led me toward the jumble of folding tables and tents set up as mini-shops. “You could always offer your services as an animal whisperer…”
~~~~~
The eight of us gathered by the “hitching post” five minutes before the meeting was supposed to start, having spent the past half hour broken off into pairs as we wandered around the town center. I’d spent most of the time walking arm-in-arm with Zoe, looking at the various wares offered at each booth—from pots, pans, and cooking utensils to fabric and clothing to handmade net bags of fresh shellfish. With only a few minutes to spare, we’d met up with Jason and Jake, who’d passed the time walking around the far end of the parking lot, where the smithy and workshop were being erected, and the four of us had made our way back to the Town Hall together.
The Town Hall was a fairly large two-story structure with, as was to be expected of a boathouse, two indoor slips for small vessels on the harbor side. The rest of the ground floor was divided into rooms, including several small offices and a larger conference room. I was only familiar with the layout because one of my high school boyfriends had worked for the marina part time, and he’d snuck me into one of the lesser-used offices more than once for a clandestine rendezvous.
When we passed through the glass double doors and into a comfortable waiting room that had been redecorated in the months we’d been gone, Lance greeted us again. He led us down a hallway, past the closed doors to all of the smaller offices, and through the open doorway to the conference room at the end of the hall.
We shuffled through the doorway in singles and in pairs, spreading out along the wall on either side. Nine people were seated, facing us, at a long table that stretched nearly the entire length of the room. With Lance and the eight of us filling the other half of the room, the space was more than a little cramped.
The woman in the middle of the line of seated Council Members stood, extending her hand toward the chairs on our side of the table. “Please, sit.” She was tall and slender, with brown hair streaked with gray, slightly lined features, and intelligent eyes. Her name was Bethany James, a former high school principal. I didn’t know her well, but I remembered her from the last time we’d met with the Council. “Daniel, it’s so good to see you again,” she said to Grayson with a warm smile. “I hope you’re well.”
“I am,” Grayson said as he sat in the center seat on our side of the table. “And you’re looking quite well yourself, Beth.”
I wasn’t sure, but I thought Bethany James might have blushed. I eyed Grayson as I took my own seat between Jason and Zoe, then did a quick scan of the faces of the other Council Members. I recognized a few others besides Bethany, but at least five of them were new to the Council, or rather, new to me. One of the newcomers was a middle-aged man who, based on his fatigues, I guessed had to be Colonel Marshall.
Lance sat as well, claiming the only other chair, which was located at the far end of the table, his clipboard and a large, leather-bound journal resting on the table in front of him.
Bethany’s eyes moved from face to face, examining each of us for several seconds, just long enough to make her gaze uncomfortable. Eventually, her focus returned to Grayson. “You and your people have been through quite a lot, Daniel. I can see it on your faces and feel it in your hearts.” She smiled a warm, genuine smile. “We’re glad you’ve made it back to us.”
“As am I.”
I looked from Grayson to Bethany and back, certain there were sparks floating between them. I held in a snicker. I was totally going to give Grayson a hard time about flirting with the leader of the New Bodega Town Council…later.
“Well,” Bethany said, clearing her throat and sitting up just a tiny bit straighter, “we have an interesting proposal for you and your people, one we hope you’ll be as excited about as we are—but first, we’d appreciate it if you could share with us some of what you’ve experienced.” Her eyes shifted to Zoe. “From what you and the dreamwalker told us, some of you have come all the way from the East Coast, but you’ve all been as far as Colorado. Most of our people are from the Northern California coast, and none, not even the traders who’ve passed through New Bodega, have been further than Oregon or Nevada. Not since the outbreak.” Her gaze settled back on Grayson.
He held Bethany’s stare, nodding slowly, thoughtfully. “Where would you like us to start?”
“How about the beginning,” she said, the corner of her mouth curving upward.
“Hmmm…the beginning is different for each of us, but…” Grayson’s focus shifted, and leaning forward, he looked at Gabe. “Your story might be the best place to start.”
Shrugging, Gabe sat up straighter and rested his forearms on the table. “For me, it all started when the genetic engineering company I worked for received a DOD contract and moved to some facilities on Peterson Air Force Base in Colorado Springs. I—”
“That’s the location of the Colony…run by this”—Bethany glanced down at a small notebook on the table in front of her, flipping back a few pages—“General Herodson?”
“Yes,” Gabe said before launching into his personal story, which spanned a several-year period before the initial outbreak. He explained that he’d started working under Dr. Wesley on a program relating to heretofore untapped human potential, what we now knew of as “Abilities,” and had quickly been initiated into the inner circle of those opposed to the program, including Dr. Wesley, and had been made aware of the General’s Ability to control the minds of others.
He explained the moment when he first realized what Dr. Wesley had done, releasing the Virus on the general population and initiating what was essentially the end of human civilization—the moment he’d received a call from his best friend, Jake, claiming that his sister was sick and seemed to be losing her mind. Except Becca hadn’t been losing her mind, she’d been developing an Ability.
He told them that the Virus was simply a mechanism to enable the mass spread of the gene therapy and explained the science behind the mutation every person who was infected went through. He told them everything he could about the Colony and the people there—the Re-gens, the T-Rs, the yellow-and black-bands, electrotherapy, Project Eden, my abduction, and how people with different Abilities were used as though they were things, not human beings—without hinting at Dr. Wesley’s relation to Zoe and Jason, or at the fact that one or more of our people were likely working for the General.
“These ‘Re-gens,’” Bethany started, skepticism written all over her face despite Lance not once having pointed out an untruth in Gabe’s tale. “To reanimate a corpse—that’s just…I don’t see how such a thing could be possible.”
“And yet, I am here,” Becca said, speaking for the first time since we’d sat.
All nine sets of the Council Members’ eyes snapped to her, and I had to hold back a grin. Even now, in a world so filled with wonder and the impossible made possible, people still wanted to hold on to their old, outdated view of reality. Humanity could be so stubborn; I was hoping that would be the one characteristic that might prevent us from dying out altogether.
“You’re claiming to be one of these—these creatures?” Bethany said, her gaze flicking to Lance. When he nodded, she returned her attention to Becca, scrutinizing her face…her not-quite-right eyes. I knew what she was seeing—irises that were a little too dull, a little too gray, a little too dead. Camille and Mase’s eyes had the same inhuman quality; it was the one external marker of their difference from non-Re-gens. Inside, well, that was another matter entirely.
Becca nodded. “I am.”
“She’s not a creature.” Jake’s voice was a low rumble. “She’s my sister.”
There was a prolonged, tense silence. A collective holding of breath.
Finally, Bethany shot another quick look to Lance, and when he confirmed what Becca and Jake had claimed with another nod, Bethany exhaled heavily. “Well…I must apologize. No insult was intended.”
“Jake is the friend I mentioned earlier,” Gabe said, earning raised eyebrows and opened mouths from some of the Council Members. “After Becca saw whatever she saw and killed herself, I did the only thing I could think of. I took her to Wes—Dr. Wesley—to see if she was a candidate for the Re-gen procedure. It was still very new then, but we managed.”
“We would love to know more about this procedure,” the man on Bethany’s right said. “We have a few biotech people here who—”
“No,” Becca said resolutely.
“Now, young lady, I understand that this may be a sensitive subject for you, but I don’t see why you’d deny the rest of us the chance to eliminate death as a—”
“You do not see, because you do not know what I know.” Becca turned her sharp, gray gaze to Gabe. “You cannot teach them this. You must not. It’s imperative, Dr. McLau—Gabe.”
I watched Becca and Gabe stare at each other for several heartbeats, until finally, Gabe nodded. “But I may be able to offer something else,” he said to Bethany. “If you have any people with Abilities like Jason’s, specifically the Ability to nullify others’ Abilities completely, I can teach your biotech people how to make a ‘neutralizer’ that will protect whoever is injected from nearly all Abilities—including mind control—for up to a week. It wouldn’t be something you’d want to use all the time, but it would be useful as a backup plan…just in case.”
Again, Bethany exchanged a look with several other Council Members. “That’s very generous of you.” She tilted her head to the side. “What’s the catch?”
Gabe offered her a chilly smile. “We’ll do whatever we can to keep as many people as possible out of the hands of Herodson and the others like him.”
“The others like him?” Bethany said, furrowing her brow.
A heavy silence descended over the room.
Carlos cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said, speaking for the first time since we entered the Town Hall. He rubbed the back of his neck as he started telling his own story, first captivating the Council with his tale of leaving Central Washington with his two siblings, then horrifying them with details of what happened when he arrived in South Lake Tahoe, of being forced to worship Mandy, a woman whose Ability stripped all around her of their will, leaving behind only mindless, adoring husks.
Bethany, as well as all but two of her peers—Colonel Marshall and the man on her right—were covering their mouths with their hands by the time Carlos finished. Most had unshed tears shining in their eyes as well, at least, those whose tears hadn’t already escaped.
Bethany had to clear her throat several times before she could speak. “What happened to them, to Vanessa and Annie? Did you look for them after…once you were freed?”
When Carlos didn’t show any sign of answering, simply stared down at his hands gripping his jeans, I jumped in. “We found them on our way back here. They’re at the ranch right now.”
“She’s one of the Lost Ones.” Colonel Marshall’s voice was accusatory. “You can’t keep her here. She should be put down.”
Carlos didn’t raise his head, but he did glare at the Colonel, and a faint crackling hum filled the air. The Council Members looked around the room, their eyes a little wild, and Zoe’s breath hitched as emotions spiked.
I looked at Jason, alarm widening my eyes, but he only stared back at me, his expression placid. For whatever reason, apparently he wanted to let this play out.
Fine…that’s just fine. But we couldn’t let Carlos electrocute the rest of us in a dominance display, either. “Vanessa is one of us,” I said. “We’re a package deal.”
I stared at Colonel Marshall, refusing to lower my eyes, and still the air tingled with electricity. The tiny hairs on my arm stood on end, and I could feel the flyaways floating around my head.
It was Bethany who interrupted what was turning into one hell of a staring contest. “In which case I think you’ll find our offer very appealing.”
The Colonel broke eye contact, shifting his gaze to Bethany, his features tense with irritation, or possibly anger, and the electric hum slowly faded away.
Bethany paused long enough to meet Colonel Marshall’s stare, her own seeming to say “Yes? Did you want something?” before looking at Grayson. “The ocean is our main—and really, our only—source of food. Before your people made contact a few days ago, we were in the process of discussing what type of team might best be suited for establishing an agricultural satellite settlement nearby. We’ve been held up on trying to put together a group of people with the most effective combination of skills.” She shrugged. “It would do us no good to set up an operation like this only to have it unable to defend itself, but the Colonel’s ranks are stretched thin as it is—the more people we bring in, the more people we need on the town watch.”
Grayson nodded slowly. “Interestingly enough, we came here intending to propose something very similar, so I think
I speak for everyone when I say we’re all ears.”
Bethany smiled. “Based on everything you’ve told us”—she glanced at me—“and on your unwavering loyalty to each other, I can imagine no better group to take on the task.” She scanned each of us quickly. “Do any of you have farming or gardening experience?”
I raised my hand partway. “Some. My grandma was a skilled gardener and herbalist, and I know a lot about animals…obviously.” My eyes hardened. “I won’t raise animals to be slaughtered, though. If you want someone to do that, you’ll have to look elsewhere.”
Bethany frowned, but didn’t argue.
“I worked on a farm during my early adulthood,” Grayson said. “I was a bit of a drifter.” He tossed me a sideways glance. “Though not that kind.”
Jason emitted a moderately interested grunt. “My dad was a carpenter—taught me most of what he knew—and Jake’s good with anything mechanical. I think we can manage.”
“It’s settled then,” Bethany said with a definitive nod. “You’re the right people for the job, and I think you’ll enjoy being autonomous, considering how long you’ve been out there, away from a society with hard-and-fast rules.” She paused. “We’re willing to provide you with the provisions you’ll need to get up and running so you won’t have to waste any time or energy procuring your own, so long as the majority of your crop, when ready, comes to New Bodega. You may, of course, reserve some for your own sustenance and trading purposes…”
“You’ve been thinking about this for some time, it would seem,” Grayson said. “Do you already have a location picked out?”
The young woman sitting to the left of Bethany piped in with, “We actually have several possible spots: one in the Russian River Valley, near Healdsburg, one in the Carneros area, and one a few miles west of Petaluma.”
Out Of The Ashes (The Ending Series, #3) Page 34