Apocalypse Trails: Episode 5

by Joe Nobody

  Cisco didn’t know which bothered him more, the seduction or the conspiracy. Both were shifting his mind into overdrive. “Sure,” he finally managed. “Always good to share information, I suppose.”

  “Is it true,” she whispered in a rush. “Is it true that society has disappeared out there?”

  Not having the slightest clue where the conversation was going, Jack answered with a shrug. “I guess you could say that the world as we knew it is gone. And ‘society’ isn’t the word I would use to describe the few groups of people I’ve encountered. For sure, the government isn’t functioning in any capacity … at least not that I’ve seen. The outside world is largely empty, void of life.”

  She stood quickly, pacing two rapid steps away and then performing a hasty turn as if deep in anxious thought. “So, what is it like out there, then? Are all the people just gone? No cars? No lights? Is it really like you were telling Norval?”

  “Yes, my account was entirely accurate,” Jack said with a touch of defensiveness. If the park ranger wanted to verify his story, he didn’t need to send in his seductive second in command.

  “So, there’s no reason why we should …,” she began, but then abruptly stopped as if she was about to divulge a secret and had changed her mind.

  “No reason why we should, what?” Jack said, trying to get her to finish.

  “Oh, never mind. It doesn’t matter. What is important is that when you leave in a few days, I want you to take me with you.”

  Jack was stunned. “Excuse me? What did you just say?”

  “I want out of here, Commander Cisco. As soon as possible. I can secure enough supplies and water for both of us.”

  “Why? I know this is going to be difficult for you to imagine, but your underground community … living here in the cavern has the best quality of life I’ve discovered since the disaster. You’ve got water, food, and electricity and above all else, fresh air. I really don’t think now is the best time for a young lady to be hitting the road.”

  Shaking her head, Carmen fired back, “You don’t understand what it’s like here, Jack. Things aren’t as they appear.…”

  She stopped short, her head tilting as if she had heard someone approaching in the darkness. Jack listened with her for a moment and then prompted her for details, “Go on.… You were saying?”

  When she turned back toward his face, Jack noticed her expression was unmistakably colored with fear. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I have to go. It wouldn’t be pleasant for either of us if Norval found me down here.”

  In a rush of denim scented in perfume, she was gone, padding silently across the cave floor and leaving Jack more puzzled than ever.

  He sat in silence for several minutes after her departure, his brain trying desperately to reconcile the few facts he knew about Pickett and his outfit. The effort soon proved to be a waste of time and energy. He didn’t know squat, the jigsaw missing too many pieces to clarify the picture.

  Still, there was no way he was going to be able to get back into dreamland. Intrigue drove his thoughts at light speed, curiosity and suspicion doing their part to power his overactive imagination.

  “What could Pickett possibly be doing to her that would drive Carmen out of this sanctuary? Was the old ranger kinky or something? Was he physically abusing her? There weren’t any obvious signs, no bruises or welts. Still, why would a sane person choose the chaos outside instead of this communal haven?”

  Jack paced beside his cot for a bit, making laps across the cool cave floor beneath his feet. Finally deciding that sleep was hopeless, he decided to dress and explore. Of all the things he’d seen and heard in the last 24 hours, it was Norval’s reaction to the locked door that bothered the commander the most. “Maybe that is where I will find my answers. What could he be hiding?”

  Chapter 28

  The discouraged column of Myers men finally arrived back at The Simpson, the extended walk doing little to resolve their leader’s nagging issues.

  Darkness hung over the structure, the dim light adding to the melancholy appearance of what had been a building designed to provide enjoyment and relaxation to vacationing families.

  Over and again, Keith tried to rationalize what the hell had gone wrong. He replayed every scenario, explored every possibility. Something out of his control had caused them to lose today’s battle, and he was determined to understand what had happened.

  In the end, he kept arriving back at the same conclusion – the rangers had someone spying on them, perhaps even a mole inside the hotel. That was the only reasonable explanation. Those fuckers had been waiting on his men before they even made it close to the cavern’s back door.

  As he set down his rifle and gear next to the threshold, a soft rap sounded on the door frame. He could tell by the expression staring back at him that the news was not good. “We’ve lost another child, today, Keith,” announced one of the community’s women, her words dripping with grief.

  “Who?”

  “The little Thomas girl,” the woman choked back hard sobs as hot tears streamed down her cheeks. “She was only four years old.”

  “Shit!” the man of muscle barked, “Her lungs?”

  “Yes.”

  Keith nodded, his soul unable to offer more emotion. There had been so many, and the kids were always the worst.

  The incident caused him to remember his own little boy, his son succumbing to the ash in the ninth week. Bryce had only been 11 years old and so full of life and energy. Keith had held him tight for the last few hours, feeling every cough and convulsion that had racked the youth’s frame.

  Before he could push aside that horrible memory, another visitor knocked on Keith’s door. This time he looked up to see Ham standing in the entryway, his friend’s expression announcing he had even more bad news.

  “The pool is down to just three days’ worth of water,” Ham declared in a solemn tone. “And given the distance to Rattlesnake, I’m not sure we can carry enough water back and forth to keep everyone here alive.”

  “Well, we’ve got one less to worry about,” Keith countered, rubbing the bottom of his sore feet. “The Thomas girl passed away while we were gone.”

  Ham merely shook his head, seemingly hardened to the constant parade of bodies they had already buried. Finally, he added, “We’re running out of time, boss. Bad air is one thing; a lack of water is another. Any ideas?”

  Keith began repeating his analysis, ending with the same result. “The rangers won because they were waiting for us. Somehow, they knew we were coming. We have to get the guys together and solve this problem.”

  Ham again nodded his agreement. “Want me to call an all-hands-on-deck?”

  “Ham, listen to me. They must have someone spying on us. That’s the only possible answer. Either that, or we have a traitor in our midst.”

  The second in command had trouble with his friend’s last statement. “No way any of these people are helping Pickett and his henchmen,” he stated with confidence. “Every family here has lost someone. Why would any of them help that asshole kill more of us?”

  “Then it’s got to be a pair of eyes and ears up in the hills. That’s the only possibility I can come up with.”

  Ham finally agreed. “Sounds reasonable to me. The question is, how do we catch them? This is big country. There must be a million places to hide within visual range of ‘Fort Simpson.’”

  “I’ve got an idea,” Keith said, brightening noticeably as the thought matured in his mind. “Call the men together, and let’s make Norval’s life a little more difficult for a change.”

  Jack knew that the sandman wasn’t coming back that night. Carmen’s visit and the day’s other events formed an endless parade of questions, secrets, and mysteries in his head.

  After pulling on his boots, he rose from the edge of the cot with his face fixed in determination.

  The commander’s weapon was still leaning against the rock wall, exactly where he’d left it. When he started to reach
for the carbine, he noticed the magazine had been removed. “Shit,” he hissed, wondering what other pieces of his gear had been pilfered.

  Memories of the locked room and Norval’s reaction dominated his thinking. It was the first time he’d seen the head ranger flash angry. There was more to the restricted area than any loose electrical wires or dangerous equipment. He needed to know what was being done behind that door.

  The commander had been a resident of the cavern for several hours and hadn’t noticed any sentries inside, even at key intersections and strategic points throughout the compound. Other than the tall ranger posted outside his sleeping area, there hadn’t been any obvious examples of security. Some sixth sense told Jack that guards were present, and if he was going to go snooping around, caution would have to be a priority.

  Using his pillow and a wad of bedding, Jack did his best to create the fake outline of a man sleeping in his cot. The ruse wouldn’t pass any but the most casual inspection, yet it was better than just leaving behind a clearly empty bunk.

  “I’m just looking for the bathroom,” he whispered, rehearsing his excuse if discovered.

  Wanting to avoid the man who was plainly posted outside his sleeping quarters, Jack chose the opposite direction, treading carefully and creating no noise. He soon found himself in a lesser corridor, the route Ms. Legs had sashayed down just a short time ago.

  Getting lost was still a major concern, but Jack had been paying more attention as Pickett’s tour progressed. There were numbered markers along most of the walkways, the numeric landmarks probably used by the rangers and tourists to keep their bearings. The commander was now confident he’d figured out the system.

  Moving slowly and being stealthy took time. At each intersection, Jack stopped to listen, projecting his senses in the hope of detecting any human presence. He eventually found the ponds and crossed the bridge in a rush to avoid exposure.

  He exhaled with relief once inside the hidden nook, happy to be in a less-visible space. Ahead of him was the door with its heavy padlock that had raised Norval’s ire.

  It was an easy decision not to attempt picking the lock. Jack didn’t have any skills in committing petty larceny. Busting open the latch was out of the question as well, as he didn’t want to leave any evidence of breaking and entering.

  Down the narrow rock hall he continued, glad the dim, battery powered emergency lights were functioning well enough for him to see the way.

  Soon he approached a second metal door, its green, government-issued paint an identical shade to the first opening. There was an identical latch for a padlock, Jack’s finger finding the surface worn from use. This chamber had been secured at one point in time. Twisting the knob slowly, the commander was surprised to find the door was unlocked.

  He opened the door less than an inch, leaning in with his ear and listening intently for any sign of human occupation. A minute passed without any sound emitted from the interior.

  Stepping inside, the first thing Jack noticed was the odor. It took him a moment to identify the chemical fragrance that landed somewhere between a disinfectant and floor wax. “A porta potty?” he whispered to the dim room. “A portable toilet 78 stories underground?”

  As his eyes adjusted to the lower light inside the chamber, Jack began to notice an odd collection of objects.

  The room was a good 30 by 30 feet, with rock walls on three sides and single emergency bulb somewhere high above. The stone floor was nearly covered in mattresses, most of the bedding aligned in neat rows with enough space to walk between.

  As he stepped further into the grotto, Jack’s toe made contact with something on the floor, sending an empty plastic milk jug rattling across the stone and making one hell of a loud racket.

  Inhaling sharply at the startling noise, Jack cursed his stupidity and then listened intently for any reaction to his failed attempt at stealth. When a platoon of armed rangers didn’t come crashing through the door, his pounding heart began to slow.

  Now paying more attention to where his steps landed, Jack noticed a significant amount of trash had collected in the area. He spotted candy wrappers, empty soup cans, energy bar wrappers, and even a few toilet paper tubes.

  Bending to pick up a piece of the garbage, Jack found himself holding a box of feminine napkins. Aside from his general unfamiliarity with the product, the packaging itself seemed odd. Further investigation in better light revealed that all of the labels on the litter were written in Spanish. Even the plastic, green restroom-box featured a sign that read, “El Baño.”

  “So, Norval had people locked up inside here,” he whispered to the stone walls. “A lot of people, and from the amount of garbage strewn around, they were captive here for quite a while. Is this the park’s jail? Why would he feel the need to retain this many inmates?”

  A noise outside interrupted Jack’s analysis, the commander rushing to hide behind the portable toilet. A moment later, the beam of a flashlight streamed through the door.

  Jack held his breath, sure that his clumsy encounter with the milk jug had been heard. He watched as the circle of light traveled the room, praying that the sentry wasn’t all that diligent.

  It seemed like the guy searched the room for an hour, Jack’s lungs beginning to ache from his lack of breathing. In reality, it was only a minute before the room again went dark, and the commander heard the metal clank of the door being closed. “Please don’t lock it,” he hissed, his mind instantly visualizing being trapped. Jack decided to wait at least five minutes before trying the door to give the guard time to move some distance away.

  “One thousand one,” he counted, his voice barely above a whisper. “One thousand two …” the sense of panic began to swell up inside of the commander. As the seconds ticked by, that discomfort expanded into overwhelming anxiety. While being a submariner and having claustrophobia were mutually exclusive events, he had no desire to be locked inside of a rock cell for some unknown period of time.

  “One thousand one hundred fifty,” he continued, focusing on the sequential numbers in hope of reducing his fear. While there had been no sound of a padlock being applied, visions of his dehydrated, shriveled body began to flash through Jack’s mind. He could see himself prone on the rock floor, the agony of hunger and thirst building with each passing hour.

  “One thousand two hundred ten, one thousand two hundred eleven ….” Then, realizing that he might already be a captive in this room, he considered, Those park rangers will think I just left. They won’t ever even bother to look for me – here or anywhere else, and his pulse rate jumped yet again.

  “One thousand two hundred forty-five….” Almost time to open the door. Hang in there, man. Don’t let this situation mess with your head, he told himself. Then trying to steady his increasing blood pressure, he reminded himself of a joke. What’s the difference between a politician and a porta-potty? One’s full of shit and the other is used at a construction site, he mused.

  “One thousand two hundred eighty, one thousand two hundred eighty-one …” As he got closer to the five-minute mark, the fear of turning the knob loomed even larger. What would he do if the handle didn’t turn? He was screwed. Even if he did manage to pound on the door and draw someone’s attention, Norval would probably have him executed for venturing back into the restricted areas.

  “One thousand three hundred!” A moment later, Jack slipped out from the back of the stinky booth and hastily moved to exit the potential death trap. His hand grasped the cold steel and rotated the knob. Relief flooded his soul when the door opened smoothly. He inhaled deeply, flooding his lungs with fresh air and encouraging his heart to slow a bit before stepping outside the secret room.

  Peeking out of the threshold, Jack spotted the sentry’s flashlight beam traveling along the path the commander had used to reach the hidden rooms. He would have to find a different route back to his cot. That realization, despite his knowing about the marker system, forced more stress into his core. The caverns were extensive,
and it wouldn’t be impossible to get lost for days … maybe forever.

  He maneuvered through a seemingly endless matrix of trails, rooms, and stone corridors. More than once, Jack worried about vanishing completely off the face of the earth or perhaps bumbling into a patrolling ranger. Each time, a numbered marker at an intersection or along the path allowed him to gradually negotiate back toward his assigned sleeping quarters.

  Rounding a corner, Jack froze when the distant sound of voices softly echoed through the stone hallway. It was nearly impossible to tell how far away the conversation was taking place, nor could he discern who was speaking.

  Ducking low, he began to advance toward the source of the words, each few steps allowing him to make out more and more of what was being said.

  He spied an opening ahead, the trail broadening into what everyone down here called a room. A few paces more, and Jack was certain he was listening to Ranger Pickett and Carmen. He found a notch in the rock wall and settled in to listen.

  “Why did you visit the stranger in the middle of the night?” boomed Norval’s voice.

  “You asked me to care for his wound,” came her defiant response. “I wanted to verify infection wasn’t taking hold.”

  “I don’t want you seeing him alone,” he responded with an easier tone. “We don’t know anything about that man. He might be dangerous or prone to violence. You are a very desirable woman. He might try to hurt you.”

  Jack heard Ms. Legs grunt and then chuckle sarcastically. “Your concern for my safety is touching.”

  “Look,” the ranger continued, “I know we’ve had our differences. I’m well-aware that our circumstances have forced me to take action that you find repulsive. I had hoped that by now, you would see the necessity and reason behind my acts.”

  There was a pause, Carmen trying to choose her next words carefully. “I don’t know that I can ever accept what you’ve done, or what you are asking our people to do. You’ve changed, Norval. You’re not the same man I’ve done business with all these years, and quite frankly, you scare the hell out of me.”