“Not exactly, but we know part of the picture,” Jack said. “Another activation is coming, but we can stop it.”
“Activation? What do you know?” Shotgun asked, eyeing Jack suspiciously.
“We’ll tell you when we get somewhere safe,” I said. “How about we go back to your hangar?”
I wanted to meet more of the survivors and possibly convince them to join our mission. More numbers wouldn’t be a bad thing, especially with Jerry and Anthony on our tail.
“I’m not sure Bob would like it.”
Brett split the sugar packet, and brown grains spilled over the table.
“He’s quiet,” Sack Man said, gesturing toward him.
“He’s traumatized,” I said. “Only says a few words.”
Sack Man nodded in understanding. “There’s a woman back at the hangar who’s still nuts. Bob keeps her chained up.”
“Chained up?” Brett said.
“She would kill you given half a chance. Better to be safe than sorry.”
“We need to head back in a few minutes,” Shotgun said. “He starts to panic if we’re not back on time.”
“So that’s it?” Jack said. “You don’t want to know more about Genesis Alliance and the activations?”
Shotgun finished his can and tossed it over the counter. It landed with a rattle. “I’m sure it’s a great story, but we’re pushed for time.”
Jack stood and his chair legs screeched along the tiles. “It’s not a story. It’s information that could save your life.”
“I think we should hear them out,” Sack Man said. He seemed the friendlier of the two. “If they know about what really happened and what’s likely to come . . .”
Shotgun grinned, quite smugly in my opinion. “No offense, guys, but you look like trouble. We’ve heard all kinds of crazy talk and don’t need any more.”
“If you want to end up as slaves, be my guest,” Jack said and stormed out of the café.
“Sorry about that,” I said. “He can sometimes fly off the handle. Is the quickest way back to New York along Interstate—”
Jack burst back in with a look of panic on his face. “They’re here. Get behind the counter.”
“Who’s here?” Sack Man asked.
“Genesis Alliance. The people who caused all of this.”
I ran to the doorway and peered outside. At the top of the street, three hundred yards away, a black Rover slowly headed in our direction. Men dressed in black, possibly twenty, fanned across the street, walking behind the Rover and pointing their weapons at buildings. The two men, Brett, and Jack scrambled over the counter. I took one last look at the approaching force and joined them.
“What are they looking for? Did you lead them here?” Sack Man asked.
“No,” I said. “They’re probably searching for survivors on their way to Hart Island. If you cross them, they’ll kill you.”
Shotgun looked pale. His hands trembled on his weapon. “What do we do?”
“Just keep your head down,” Jack said. “If they find us, we won’t have a choice.”
The engine noise grew louder. Raised voices echoed along the street. We had to hope they didn’t enter the shop and poke around. At least we’d have the element of surprise, but the odds were stacked against us.
The larger man tapped me on the shoulder. “Why Hart Island?”
I put my finger to my lips and looked over the counter. I ducked down immediately as the front of a Rover appeared from the right, trundling along at around three miles per hour.
Footsteps crunched on debris outside. Somebody paused by the café window. I tensed and curled my finger around the rifle’s trigger.
The footsteps continued away, but another set followed.
“Are we looking in any of these?” A man shouted.
“We haven’t got time,” another said. “The convoy’s on its way, and we need to keep ahead of it. You can answer to the boss if the path isn’t cleared.”
The main body of men passed outside, loudly talking with one another. I heard one mention something about looking forward to a beer this evening. The larger man tried to suppress a sneeze but let out a short grunt. Jack shook his head.
Voices faded away. I wanted to make sure they were well into the distance before we moved. Shotgun sat with his back against the counter, his eyes tightly closed. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face.
We waited another five minutes in silence. Brett crouched at the far end of the counter, away from us. Jack or I weren’t about to tell his story, if that’s what his problem was.
“I’m taking a look,” Jack said. “If they come back this way, I want to be out of here.”
He slipped over the counter, and I watched him creep to the door. He looked back. “I think they’re gone.”
Sack Man let out a deep breath and wiped his brow.
“Take us back to your hangar,” I said. “I’ll give you the information you need.”
He rapidly nodded. “I know a few back roads. We can be there in ten minutes.”
“I suggest we move, now.” I put a friendly arm around Brett and led him outside. “You’re safe with us, mate. Don’t stress.”
“I don’t know what to say. What would you say?”
“Tell people you came over with us. That’ll do for now.”
I genuinely felt sorry for him. I could tell he was a decent man who had been forced to play a part in a wider evil plan. In our previous lives, I’m sure we would have been good friends had we met.
The other two men clambered over the counter and headed out. Jack stood outside, looking in the direction of GA’s travel. I joined him and gazed into the distance. The road curved away as it left the main part of town.
“I only want to be that close again when we’re taking the bastards out on Hart Island,” Jack said.
“Did you hear what they said about the convoy?” I asked.
“It’s probably not far behind if they were an advance party.”
“They’re moving at a snail’s pace,” Brett said.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “We need to get you down there as fast as possible.”
I turned at the sound of the pickup truck’s engine starting. Sack Man leaned out of the passenger window, still looking slightly rattled. “Follow us. It won’t take long.”
“What’re your names?” I said.
“I’m Dave, he’s Arun.”
We slipped inside the Pontiac and quietly closed the doors.
Jack started the Pontiac and pushed it into drive. “What about these two? They wanted to dump us before GA showed up.”
“I think we need to give people a chance,” I said. “At least we know a little bit about what’s behind it all. They’ve just seen their world go to shit without explanation. I don’t blame them.”
“I suppose you’re right. I’m keeping my distance, though.” He looked over his shoulder at Brett. “You okay, Chief?”
Brett gazed out of the window. “I’ll live. I think . . .”
Jack turned in a semicircle and followed the pickup. It steered down a side road, passing through a small new development of three partially constructed houses and headed for what looked like a dead end. The pickup turned right, disappearing behind a yellow-painted bungalow, and as we followed, the road turned into a snaking mud track with a stripe of grass running along the middle and hedges on either side.
The track led to Elyria airport. The pickup crossed the tarmac, in front of two hangars, and came to a halt just before the large sliding door of the first. Both men sprang out and rushed inside. Dave returned a minute later with another man, old with gray hair, stiff and vigorous. He approached the Pontiac and gestured to me to lower my window.
I dropped it and heard the buzz of a generator. Not the smartest idea if they wanted to
remain inconspicuous in this location.
“The name’s Bob. Park immediately on the right side—go on,” he said, beckoning us away.
“Short and sweet,” Jack said.
Bob slipped back through the gap. The door wound open a few feet. Jack eased into the hangar and parked to the right of three small single-engine planes. I would normally be excited and curious to examine them, but as the hangar doors closed and the darkness descended, I felt less enthusiastic. We disembarked and stood by the car.
Rapid footsteps echoed to my right. Metal scraped across the concrete floor. A figure charged out of the gloom. I spun and aimed at a greasy-haired woman in a filthy lilac dress. Brett jumped behind me. A trailing chain, bound around her wrists, snapped rigid, halting her forward momentum. She yanked at it, panting vigorously while staring at me with hunger in her eyes.
Lights along the ceiling thumped alive from back to front in sequence. Bob stepped from behind a plane. “Welcome, welcome. Put down your weapons. You’re safe here.”
“Who the hell is that?” Jack said, thumbing over his shoulder at the woman.
“Don’t worry about Amanda. I took her in four days ago, and she acted sweet as apple pie. She attacked Dave with a hex driver on Wednesday, and we couldn’t calm her down.”
“She was normal for two days, then attacked?” I asked.
“That’s right. Turned completely nuts. Must have swallowed another dose of that damned chemical.”
“What chemical?”
He smiled and put his hand on my shoulder. “Dave tells me you’ve got some information. We can compare notes while I get you something to eat.”
Our last meal had been in Vermilion just after midday, only two hours ago. But since we’d landed in this mess last week, I never turned down food. “If you’ve got something, we’d be grateful.”
“Follow me, gents.”
I glanced back at the woman. She attempted to rip the chain free again and scowled at me.
Bob headed for the far end of the hangar and broke into a half jog before slowing after several awkward strides. I smiled to myself, remembering how my granddad used to do the same thing. I think they did it to prove they still had a level of vitality.
I slowed, allowing him to get thirty yards ahead and walked alongside Brett. “Any idea what he’s talking about?”
“I doubt it’s anything to do with chemicals. She’s been triggered again by something.”
“Like what?” Jack said. “Are you saying this could happen to anyone we meet?”
“No idea. Could be a malfunctioning device. She might have had a delayed reaction. It’s probably wise if we treat everybody with caution.”
“That’s just great. Can’t you people do anything properly?”
Brett sighed and shook his head.
I searched for potential exit points and areas to use for cover. The appearance of GA had me paranoid, and if they swooped in on the hangar, we needed at least half a plan. The revelation about the woman’s behavior also concerned me. The inconsistent nature of the post-activation left us with little option but to trust nobody.
We reached a gray door marked with orange safety flares. Bob led us through to a basketball court–sized room with diagrams of engines and pictures of planes around the walls. Wooden tables with metal legs, like army chefs used in the field, were piled with food supplies. Eight camp beds were set up at the far end, with blue mummy-shaped sleeping bags neatly lying on top of them.
“Sal,” the old man shouted, “bring three bowls of your lovely stew.”
A thin old lady with white hair pulled back in a ponytail appeared from a side room. She was dressed in a crumpled cream trouser suit, sleeves rolled up to her elbows.
“Three more, Bob?” she asked and rested her wrinkly hands on her hips. “I bet you boys have had an adventure getting here.”
“You could say that,” Jack said.
Bob gestured to three seats in front of a desk. “Sit down and let’s talk. I need to know what happened today.”
“You seem to have a nice setup here,” Brett remarked.
Bob glanced down, tutted, and swept crumbs off the surface of the table. “We’re preparing for the end of the world, young man. Just like we did during the Cold War, but this time it’s real. Every day we gather a straggler. Arrange their accommodation and provide a safe place to rest while we wait. At the moment, we number eight, but we expect to build until it finally happens.”
“Until what finally happens?” I said.
The old lady carried in three steaming mugs on a tray and placed them in front of us.
Bob smiled at her, then focused back on me. “Rescue, of course. You don’t think they’d leave us all here, do you?”
I shifted uncomfortably, trying to think of a reply that wouldn’t cause offense. Bob had shown no guile when he spoke. I could only think that he believed, without question, that the National Guard would descend on the hangar at any moment.
The old lady cleared her throat. “What he means is that we’ll all help each other until the Army sets things straight.”
“I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news,” Jack said, “but the Army isn’t coming.”
“Oh, stop teasing us,” Bob said and rolled his eyes. “They’ll be starting in the cities first. This chemical warfare can’t last forever. We’ll have nuked them.”
“We’ve come from New York. It’s worse than here,” Jack said.
“Nuked who? What do you mean?” I asked.
“It stands to reason that this is the action of the Chinese. I noticed them sneaking up the rail, didn’t I?” He looked at the woman, who nodded. “They’ve attacked us. We’ve struck back. Now it’s just a matter of waiting for the effects to subside and standing on our own two feet again.”
“Sorry, Bob,” I said. “This is altogether different. There’s no easy way to say this—”
He jabbed his finger toward my face. “You can’t scare me. I’m too old and have seen too much. Tell me about those people in town.”
“They’re . . . well, there’s an organization called Genesis Alliance who did all of this,” I said. “What you see around you has happened on a global scale. Small pockets of survivors like you have here are probably all that’s left. They used some sort of technology to send out an activation. That’s what happened last Friday—”
“How do you know?”
“Because we’ve met them,” I said. “They’ve got a base in Monroe and are heading for a place called Hart Island. There’s going to be another activation soon that will pretty much change you into their slaves.”
“But there’s a way we can help you, and the others here,” Jack said.
“What’s up with you?” Bob said, looking at Brett. “Cat got your tongue?”
“No, it’s just that . . . I . . .”
Bob narrowed his eyes before referring to a map on his desk. He briefly mumbled to himself about our story and slapped his hand firmly on the table. “Are you saying we’ve been invaded?”
“Not invaded, as far as we know,” I said. “But they’re taking over and will be using the remaining survivors to clear up the country by the same technique as previously deployed.”
“They’re a clean energy company or something like that,” Jack added.
Bob cackled. “You’ve got to be kidding me, right?”
“Does it look like we’re joking?” Jack said.
“I doubt they’re coming here,” I said. “They seem to mostly rely on the technology to do the work for them. We think we can help you all escape the effects. We’ve been told a way.”
“If what you say is true, I need to know how,” Bob said.
“This might sound odd,” I said. “You have to cattle prod yourself on the head several times, which might work. The other way is by creating a small EMP devic
e—”
Bob frowned. “A what?”
“That’s what he said,” Jack replied. “You have to use a prod.”
“And you’ve done this to yourself?”
“No, one of the GA tech team used a special tool on us—”
Bob locked his hands behind his head and sat back. “Are you sure about this prod? If I’m to do it to my team, I need to give them a reason.”
“It’s the only way possible,” Brett said. I was glad he’d finally chirped up. His silence made him look suspicious. “It’s not one hundred percent guaranteed, but it gives you a chance if the next activation happens.”
“It might not even happen,” I said. “We’re gonna try to stop it at Hart Island.”
Bob looked to his left and drummed his fingers on the table. I could understand his questions, and he seemed friendly enough. He surveyed the map again, stroking his silver beard and placing his finger on various points, mumbling about Hart Island.
The old woman arrived with three large bowls of stew and a hunk of freshly baked bread. My stomach growled in appreciation and, despite the heat, we tucked in, blowing wildly to cool the food. The time eating gave me a chance to think of what was happening here. Bob and his group were living on false hope, and our information had probably crushed it. I was curious to see how he reacted.
“Looks like you’re enjoying the food, boys?” Bob said.
“First proper cooked meal I’ve had in a week,” Jack said.
“Compliments to the chef,” Brett said.
The old woman, Sal, brought three steaming mugs of coffee and a cake to the table. They certainly had a nice setup, as Brett had previously observed, although it could be destroyed in a flash if GA got their way.
Bob kept his twinkling light-blue eyes on me while I finished my cake.
“You don’t believe we’ll be rescued?” he asked.
“Not a chance,” I said. “The best thing we can do is stop the second activation and take the fight to Genesis Alliance.”
“There are eight of us here. How can we help?”
“First, we can make you safe,” I said. “Then, we can discuss if you’re prepared to join us and destroy their infrastructure.”
Second Activation (The Activation Series Book 2) Page 11