Humanity Gone (Book 2): Facade of Order

by Derek Deremer

  They are already talking as I enter.

  “Two men are hurt, and it was a waste. All we found was some...” one of the men swears about Sara. I can't really blame him. The entire mission still didn't make too much sense to me. Kidnapping the president? The decoy attack? It seemed like a wild card that we put too much hope into so suddenly. Maybe these men knew how to survive, but waging a war? They're not ready for all this.

  “We found some critical information. We will...”

  “We don't have the president, and we put all our trust into those barbarians who didn't even have worthwhile information,” one soldier yells pointing at Michael and his men. There is disarray among the soldiers. The Sanctuary simply stands there coolly. Michael looks around at the bickering. He begins to walk towards the stage. He puts his hands behind his back and looks over the crowd. His stare mildly quiets them, but a few still shout out. He begins:

  “So we didn't find him. Get over it. We did something stronger. We scared them. We snuck in there and took something that belonged to him without difficulty. I estimate we took out several dozen men at the front gate. We lost none. This is the start of something bigger. They don't know anything other than that we probably could have strolled right into the capital if we had wanted to. They saw our firepower, and after that helicopter attack they didn't think there was much left to us. They thought the Sanctuary was solely responsible for those attacks. Imagine their shock to know we are not alone. They have more enemies than just the Sanctuary. We planted a seed of fear. America is not something they can just take. Matthews is not going to sleep well for a long time, which means we can sleep easier for the time being.”

  The room is silent. What he said did make sense. He’s right; nobody has challenged New America in such a way before that we know of. Nobody has ever had reason to believe that they are vulnerable in any way. I just wished this didn't have to involve us. The New Americans would have to be crazy if they are not terrified. Ryan is able to resume the debriefing on a few more minor points and then everyone breaks off into the approaching evening. I find Carter and walk outside with him. Michael's men gather around the bus. A few of them are loading canisters in the luggage hold of the bus. Canisters of fuel.

  Ryan walks up to us along the hillside in front of the bus.

  “And with that they are leaving,” he says.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Michael won't say. He said there are some things he needs to take care of. He says he may be back soon. Maybe it's not a bad idea. The New Americans are going to be searching for that bus. I'd rather them not see it here.”

  I don't like the idea of them leaving us so suddenly. The future is so uncertain and it would be nice to have them with us. After a few more moments, the Sanctuary all loads up into the bus except for one.

  Michael gives me a nod and pulls himself into the bus. A moment later, the engine roars to life. The brakes release with a slight screech and it drives away into the darkness.

  Ryan begins to pat around his waist and then his pants.

  “Darn, where did I put that radio? If I don't start charging it now, it will never be ready for tomorrow.”

  “Maybe you left it the auditorium.”

  “You're probably right.” He takes off and leaves Carter and me alone. Carter grabs my hand and looks over to me.

  “Hell of a day,” he says. I move close and press against his arm.

  “Hell of a month,” I return with a smile. “And it looks like you kept your promise after all.”

  “What?”

  “To Jon. You found them all.”

  “Yea. How about that?” He blinks strangely before a genuine smile crosses his face. I tug on his hand as we turn down the street. We walk home and enjoy the quiet of the night.

  * * *

  The sun burns brightly as I sit on the steps of my home. Carter was called off to help in the medical tent. Someone was just sick. Luckily, I haven't heard a gunshot in a week. Sara, Caitlyn, and David walk by on the sidewalk towards the school. They are each carrying wood. They look happy and seem to be right off of a joke judging by their smiles.

  Sara seems to be adapting well to the Resistance. She spends her time mostly with Caitlyn, and they usually share smiles as they walk around. The first few days she didn't leave her room, but Caitlyn pulled her out. Caitlyn hasn't picked up her bow once. She told us that she was done shooting after we returned from the capital. She has seen enough horror for one life. If we are going to have a war, she wants to be on the sidelines now.

  I was unsure at first if Sara would adjust considering where they found her, but she seems okay. She explained what she was doing there, and I think she understands that she was being used. We all explained to her what he was doing and of the atrocities that he has been responsible for. Silently, she accepted it. It wasn't too surprising he took advantage of her; she is a beautiful young woman. Both of the twins are. Caitlyn is definitely more worn around the edges, but each day they look more and more alike. I began to notice the mannerisms they share. They would be eighteen in a few months – we will have to do something special.

  David, unsurprisingly, has taken an interest in Sara and has pestered her night and day when he isn't busy with something. Surprisingly, however, he hasn't been as crude as normal. Sara seems to ignore him, but she likes the attention. David may have been a few years older, but he rarely acted it around women.

  I make my way off the porch and go over to assist them. The kitchen needs more wood for the outside stoves. Ryan planned a party tonight to raise everyone's spirits and celebrate the end of summer. Despite all the chaos, our food reserves have never been more full. Winter should go well this year Everyone is helping out to make the party something special. He has organized a few of these in the past, and after everything this week, we definitely need another one. Sometimes, it seems like we focus too much on surviving, and not enough on living.

  When we finish hauling the wood, we come back and clean ourselves up. It was getting late and with four of us, it will take some time. Especially since there are three girls. Our water tank on top of the chimney is nearly empty when all of us are finished. Caitlyn and Sara both wear sun dresses from my closet. We gather together in the living room. Sara attempts to put some more foundation on Caitlyn, but Caitlyn resists. I don't know if Caitlyn has worn any make-up before. Carter hurries down the steps to the three of us while straightening his black tie. We are already late. He smiles to me and then looks at the twins who sit on the couch in the living room. I walk up to him and adjust his white collar. I don't know what he'd do without me...

  “Once again, I am having trouble telling you two apart,” he says to the twins with a cheesy smile. The three of them share a smile and we all head out the door. Along the way, we meet up with several more people headed to the school's cafeteria. Jo joins us farther down the street. She is dressed up as well and walks beside me. We have gotten along this past week – like friends. She still spends a lot of time by herself, but I am starting to trust her. This morning she asked me to join her on a quick horseback ride. The brown one did not cooperate so we just took turns on the white one. Angel is her name. I didn't do too bad considering it was my first time on a horse; I can't wait to return to the stables with her again. She gives the four of us a smile, and we all head into the cafeteria. Passing through the fence, we soon arrive at the entrance. As we open the door, noise pours out.

  It seems the entire Resistance is already inside. It makes me smile to see everyone so happy. The tables go around the perimeter of the room, and a small line waits to go into the kitchen. The smell of seasoning emanates from within and fills the entire place. Across from the kitchen on the other side of the cafeteria is a slightly elevated stage. A few musicians play away and set the tone for everyone in the room.

  We grab a seat on one of the long benches and intermix with many of our neighbors. They’ve collected quite a spread of food, but that hasn’t stopped them from carrying on at lea
st four different conversations at once. Caitlyn and Sara look a little lost among all of the commotion. Carter soon stands up.

  “I'll be back in a moment,” he says walking back to the kitchen. Caitlyn, Sara, and Jo's eyes continue to scan everyone in the room. They probably haven't seen many of these faces before. There really are a lot of us in this community, and sometimes it's easy to forget there are two hundred of us around here. I share glances with Jo; we both smile and turn back to the crowd.

  Carter walks back with Kevin, each is carrying filled glasses. They place them on the table.

  “Here everyone take one. A toast.” We all hesitantly grab the glasses. I say what we are all thinking.

  “Carter, what is this?” I ask, lifting the clear liquid up to the light and then to my nose. The twins do the same.

  “Just a little, um, moonshine from the geniuses,” he says looking over to the open door to the kitchen. I glance over and see a few of the nerds handing out glasses to others.

  “Well then, cheers,” Sara says raising the small glass up to drink. Carter laughs a little, and stops her arm.

  “Whoa, slow down.” he says, lifting his own glass. “To family.”

  “To family,” we answer. After a mild hesitation we all clang the glasses together and lift them to our lips. It burns the entire way down. I set the glass back down on the table. It is going to take me a while to finish the drink. Caitlyn and Jo do the same. Both have pained looks on their faces. Carter and Kevin take long gulps, but bring their glasses back to their chests. Sara on the other hand downs the entire shot and returns the glass to the table. We give her an open mouthed stare. She just shrugs her shoulders and then hands the glass to Carter.

  “Another?” she says. We all laugh. I take another sip and the night really begins. Our group finally starts to mingle with everyone. Mostly everyone around here is our age; a few children run around unsupervised from side to side. We fill our stomach with food and get a few more rounds of the liquor. A few of the brave men and women begin to set out to the middle of the room and create a dance floor. The tempo of the music quickens as the night drags on.

  I sit down a moment at our table, and my eyes go around the energized room. In moments like this, I wish we would just forget about New America and live our own lives. It's not hard to tell that everyone is simply happy.

  Screw America.

  A few people walk around with lighters and begin to light candles set all over the room. When they approach our table, I reach behind me and hand the vanilla candle out to be lit. I watch for a moment as the wick starts small and begins to spread dim light across the entire table. After the majority of the candles are lit, the light-bulbs begin to fade and the faint sound of generators diminishes. That was enough gas for one night. Besides, with the candles, the room is beautiful - even if it was a school cafeteria.

  The small band readies themselves for another tune, but Ryan walks to the stage and relieves the guitar player. He tries a few notes on the string and then starts the band into a new song. The music becomes slower to fit the new tone of the room. The dance floor has cleared and several people slow dance to the lighter rhythm. Darrel and Tori, the two that told us about Caitlyn, have fit in well with us here at the camp. Darrel was one of the ones working in the kitchen the entire day to prepare for this party. On the other side of the bench, David tries to pull Sara to the floor with his one good arm, and eventually she gives in to his efforts. Their movements seem to suggest they have thoroughly enjoyed the liquor. My high school homecoming drifts through my mind. It was a few weeks before the plague changed everything.

  “Well shall we?” Carter has an outstretched hand in front of me. With a grin I take it and proceed to the center of the floor. We step back and forth to the rhythm of the band. My fingers intertwine behind his neck and I pull myself close to him. I lay the side of my head against his chest and look around us as we turn ever so slightly.

  Dave is beside us trying to spin Sara. They both laugh.

  Caitlyn sits at the table with Jo. They seem to be reminiscing about something as they sip on the liquor. The room is dark, but they both seem to have smiles.

  I wish tonight would never end. In this moment, we have nothing to worry about, not even in the backs of our minds.

  Chapter 25: Carter

  BOOM!

  I shoot up in my bed as the sound continues to echo from the outside.

  “What the...?” I mumble. Paige quickly sits up and our wide eyes meet.

  BOOM!

  Another explosion seems to shake the house and light briefly pours in from the windows. What in the world?

  As Paige's hand squeezes mine, I consider what is out there. After a few moments it dawns on me.

  The gas reserves.

  Most of the compounds gasoline and fuel is held in a series of sheds throughout the town. All of them are generally a safe distance from any houses, but who knows what could happen if they are igniting. Are we under attack? I throw over the covers, and quickly change.

  “Paige, gather the twins and stay with them.” I reach under the bed and slip my pistol into the back of my pants. Paige reaches into her nightstand and withdraws her weapon as well. She nods.

  “Be careful.” We share a quick kiss and I run down the stairs. Caitlyn stands at the threshold of her door looking out. She is still wearing the dress from the party.

  “Carter, what is...?”

  “I don't know. Stay here. If we need you, I will send for you; until then, keep one another safe.”

  I make my way to the entryway and throw open the screen door to the outside.

  Slam. I run directly into Sara. She is trying to get back into the house. She must not have been in her bed tonight either.

  “Carter, I was just outside and...”

  “Just go inside and stay with Paige and Caitlyn.”

  I dash past her and into the street. As I get closer to the inferno, it becomes obvious that it is indeed one of the gas reserves. In the distance I see that one of the others is on fire, too. Kevin is already alongside the fire, attacking it with a hose from a water tank and trying to extinguish the flames. A few others toss buckets into the blaze. It seems to be fruitless against the growing fire.

  “Kevin do you know what started this?” I yell above the commotion. He shakes his head.

  “The guy on duty says it just suddenly went up. Maybe an accident?”

  No. Maybe one on fire could be an accident. This was intentional.

  “Someone did this,” I say.

  “Who you think?” he says. His eyes open wide for a second and then return to the flames. Who could have done this...? Right now I can think of too many possibilities. That will come later.

  “No time for that now. Where's another water tank?”

  “This is it; the other two are at the other fire. If this wind blows it's going to spread to a house.”

  We thought we were prepared for fires. We made a series of carts with water and pumps that could be accessed and suppress flames. Luckily they had never been used before.

  Maybe it was unlucky, because we would know how useless they are.

  I glance around. What to do... what to do...

  The fire is getting close to a nearby brick and wood building. If this spreads half of the town could go up in flames. My eyes follow the brick and travel up to the roof.

  The water tank.

  A few of our nerds placed tanks on the roof to collect water and putting it on the roof created pressure. Before we learned how to use the old pipes, they remodeled the houses to work by these water tanks.

  Hopefully this one is full of water.

  I turn and book it back to my house and throw up the garage door. Inside are many of my medical tools, but also a few left over items from the original owners. I needed the ax. It is propped in the corner and I grab the dusty handle before taking off back toward the fire.

  I quickly yell my plan to those trying to maintain the fire: climb the roof, cut
the front support and watch it fall neatly on the fire. The water tank is the size of a Buick and should do the trick. Helicopters that drop water onto wildfires come to my mind.

  I chuck the ax onto the house's roof and it slides a little downward but catches on the gutter. I hoist myself onto the railing of the porch and then onto the roof. I move carefully over the shingles until I get to the tank which is braced by three supports against the sides of the chimney. I would marvel again at the design if the whole town wasn't about to burn up.

  My fingers grab onto the plastic rim of the tank. The plastic hull is filled with water, so I go to the base of the container and turn the valve to lock in the water. I don't want it all leaking out. Once the valve is tight, I grab the ax from the roof. I swing the blade into the piping. It separates the tank from the plumbing.

  So far so good. However, ensuring it falls in the right direction is going to be tough. It needs to fall off the chimney and away from the house. If I do this wrong, it will just pour back onto one of the sides of the roof. That would be useless. I exhale heavily forward, and I begin to push.

  Unsurprisingly, it doesn't budge.

  I stare at the supports. If I cut any of them it is just going to fall onto the back or front of the roof.

  This isn't going to work. I swear aloud.

  I study it. The weight of the tank is being supported mostly by the chimney in the middle. How do I make it fall away from the house and onto the fire? Maybe if... That's it.

  Without thinking further, I turn the ax to the blunt side and swing it between the supports into the chimney itself. My arms cry in pain as the ax nearly bounces off, but a few chunks of brick fly off. That's good enough for me. I begin swinging madly into the corner brick of the chimney. The supports of the tank allow me to balance myself as I swing over and over into the chimney. Small pieces become larger pieces.