by Dave Conifer
“I, uh, I don’t think so,” Dewey said. “They looked more like kids. No, no way it was this guy. None of them had beards like this.”
“Do you think anybody heard the shots?” she asked.
“Probably,” he answered. “If there’s, like, anybody to hear them. But we’re leaving anyway. Who cares? What do we do with the body?”
“Leave it where it is,” Sarah said. “I’m never coming back here again. Let’s go.” Dewey picked up the two sacks, one containing clothes and the other containing food, and headed for the door. “Well, I can tell you this, Dewey. In all the years I lived here, I never thought I’d kill a man in the living room and leave his body to rot. I hope I never get used to doing anything like that.”
“Huh?” Dewey asked.
“Wait,” Sarah said. She peeked out the window. “There’s nobody out there that I can see, but let’s go out the back. We can stay hidden better.” He followed her to a door off the kitchen, which led them through the back yard and into the shelter of a stand of trees.
“Back to the bridge?” Dewey whispered.
“I think so,” Sarah replied. “If they heard us, they heard us. We may as well take the most direct route out of here.”
A few minutes later they reached the bridge. Sarah ducked down and slipped into the hiding place they’d vacated not long before. The surroundings were as quiet as they’d been earlier. She thought about the intruder back at the house. He’s not alone. There are more of them. It’s only a matter of time.
She wouldn’t have believed anything could surprise her at that point until she saw the teenaged boy in the rowboat hovering just offshore. She instinctively dropped to the ground. But hiding wouldn’t have helped, even if Dewey hadn’t been standing out in the open with a bemused look on his bearded face. The boy had seen them before they saw him. In fact, it was clear now to Sarah that he’d been waiting for them. Also clear to her, even though she’d had only a momentary glimpse of them, was that he was one of the figures they’d seen earlier from the bridge.
Now that he’d made eye contact with no dire consequences, the boy rowed closer. “Where’d you come from?” he asked timidly. When neither answered, he spoke again. “Can I come ashore? I don’t want them to see me.”
Dewey nodded in the affirmative. Sarah thought he looked friendly enough. More importantly, he looked harmless. The boy yanked on the oars one last time and ran the boat aground. He stepped out, one foot squishing into the muddy lake, and tied the boat to the trunk of a small tree before clambering up to where they were hiding.
He was as scared as they were, Sarah realized. The boy was most likely an ally, she was sure, although she didn’t try to make sense of it yet. Oddly, she focused on his crew cut hairstyle, wondering how he’d managed to cut it so evenly.
“Who are you?” the boy asked. “What are you doing here?” Sarah nearly laughed; she’d faced the same questions only a few minutes earlier in her own home. She wasn’t sure how to answer.
“I used to live here,” she said. “Are you from here, too?” she asked, although she didn’t recognize him.
“No, my cousins are,” he answered. “The Carraways. I was just visiting.”
“The Carraways,” Sarah said. “They live down at the cove. What’s your name?”
He looked momentarily puzzled, as though nobody had ever asked him that before. “Um, Sam,” he answered.
“I’m Sarah. That’s Dewey over there,” she answered. “We’re not here to hurt anybody. We’re on our way out.” She looked closer at the boy. He looked like a teenager. Beneath the mud on his face, mud that looked like it had been placed there deliberately, were narrow, delicate features devoid of any sign of hair. She took in his entire frame, including the loose-fitting clothes and the slender build. “Sam, you’re not really a boy, are you?” If she hadn’t been sure, she wouldn’t have said it.
Sam looked over at Dewey, as if the answer could be found there. Then he looked at his feet, as if debating whether or not to confess to a stranger. Finally, he looked up at Sarah. “No,” she said simply. “I’m a girl.”
“How old are you?” Sarah asked.
“Fourteen,” she volunteered.
“I’m almost afraid to ask. I’m sure you have a good reason,” Sarah said. “But why are you pretending you’re a boy?”
“It’s a long story,” she said. “It’s the story they sent me over to tell you.”
“Who sent you?” Sarah asked.
By now, Dewey had crawled back into the hide. Sam looked around before following. So there is something to fear here, Sarah thought. But it isn’t Sam.
“So Sam, what’s your real name? No point in us calling you Sam,” Sarah said.
“Kelly,” she replied. “My real name is Kelly.”
“Were you one of those kids we saw down at the end of the lake?” Dewey asked.
“We saw you on the bridge, yeah,” Kelly said. “We thought maybe you could help us. That’s why I came here to wait for you.”
“Nice to meet you, Kelly,” Sarah said, before introducing herself and Dewey. Then she remembered she’d already done that. “Help you with what?”
“Did you see me and the boys?” Kelly asked. “We’re hostages, or slaves, whatever you want to call it. They won’t let us go. We were out there fishing when you saw us, like we always do for them. Then we clean the fish and cook it for them.”
“Are you supposed to be fishing now?” Sarah asked. “Is that why you were out in the boat?”
“Yes,” Kelly said. “But after we saw you, we thought we should try to see who you were. I won’t come back in with any fish, but we can fudge it.”
“Who are these people that are making you do this?” Sarah asked.
“The Men,” Kelly said. “That’s what we call them. They came here after the EMP.” It was the first time Sarah had ever heard anybody from beyond their group call it that.
“Who are they?” Sarah asked.
“We don’t know,” Kelly said.
“Sarah, I’ll bet, like, that was one of them we saw in your house!” Dewey said.
“He was a big hairy guy with a club,” Sarah told Kelly. “Sound familiar?”
“Yup,” Kelly said. “They all look like that.”
“Still, I don’t get it. Why don’t you just leave?” Sarah asked. “Where are your parents? What’s the story here? There’s something you’re not telling us.”
Sixteen
Mark told Nick on the way back out to Tabernacle after breakfast the morning of the hangover that the Committee had approved the induction of the Hammonton refugees. The entire group of migrant workers were now members in full, or would be after a few formalities. They’d be residing in cabins over in the village at Tabernacle, but only because there was no room for them back at the middle school.
Nick’s head hurt too much to give this much thought. Mostly he was concentrating on not vomiting as the van hurtled along the road toward the camp. Even so, he was shocked that Grover and the Committee had, in effect, accepted his recommendation on such a crucial issue. Roethke’s derision aside, it sounded to Nick like his reputation wasn’t as bad as Roethke implied. Grover might not like me, Nick reasoned, but he knows a good idea when he hears one, even if it’s from me.
“You’re going to be a busy boy today,” Mark was saying as the van rolled southward on Route 206. “First thing after we get there, I’d like you to be point man on bringing the refugees into camp.”
“Sure,” Nick said as softly as possible. His head was throbbing with every syllable. Hangovers were much tougher to take when there was no Tylenol available and water was rationed. Making it through the day was all he was hoping for, but now he knew he’d be involved with the refugees and there’d be a lot of extra work involved. “Just tell me what to do.”
Truth be told, Nick was thinking about Sarah and Dewey more than anything Mark was telling him about the refugees. How were they? What were they doing right this second? We
re they even alive? They’d left that night with no warning, no food, and presumably, no plan. There were a lot of bad guys out there. At least Sarah has a gun, he reminded himself hopefully.
“We will,” Mark promised. Nick stared at him, forgetting what the question was, if there had even been one. “Hey, you okay?” Mark asked. “You seem out of it.”
“No, I’m good, I’m good,” Nick answered. If nobody knew about his bender from the night before, there was no reason to talk about it now. As far as Dewey and Sarah were concerned, Mark there was a good chance that tight-lipped Grover hadn’t told him about that, either. Nick thought about explaining their situation, but decided it would be too much work.
“And in the afternoon,” Mark was now saying, “Water Supply is coming to spec out their Water Plant, so we need to work with them,” he continued. “Their operations guy knows you. Matt, I think his name is?”
“Yeah, Matt Shardlake,” Nick said. “But I saw him just this morning. He didn’t say anything about this. Are you sure it’s today?”
“He probably didn’t know,” Mark answered. “It wasn’t his call. But they’ll be out, and they want you to meet with them. They kind of have an idea of what they need to build, but they don’t have any concrete plans yet. You can help them flesh it out. Time flies. We’re almost out of water. They need to be producing water in less than a week.”
“What?” Nick asked. “Do they even know how they’re gonna’ do it? That’s a tight timeline.”
“Tell me about it,” Mark said. “But the truth is, that’s when our current supplies run out. We don’t have a choice. So they don’t have a choice. It’s as simple as that.”
Nick shrugged. “Well, that’s that. Nobody said this was gonna’ be easy.”
“Look, you just have to get the bare bones set up for them,” Mark said. “Whatever they say they need. I doubt it’ll be much. After that’s going, and they figure out what they’re doing, we’ll build them something more permanent.”
“Obviously we’ll set up by the lake, right?” Nick asked. “Any place in particular?”
“That’s up to them,” Mark said. “But if possible we’d like something as important as the Water Plant be as close to Main Street as possible.”
“Main Street?” Nick asked.
Mark laughed. “That’s what they call the road that cuts through between the dining hall and the Warehouse,” he explained.
“Main Street, USA,” Nick said. “Got it.”
“But first order of business for you is to take care of the refugees,” Mark said. “That’s probably going to be your morning.” He quickly laid out the course of action. As soon as the van arrived at camp, the process of accepting and inducting them would begin. First, their possessions, the ones Nick had transferred to the Warehouse, would be carefully checked over. “We have to find out everything we can about these folks,” Mark countered when Nick had protested the invasion of privacy. If anything unacceptable was found, it would all be returned to them where they waited in the woods, minus any weapons, and they would be sent away. Otherwise, they would be invited in after being thoroughly frisked and searched by one of the military men.
Nick took another look at the man in the front of the van who was wearing the blue clothing that the security forces had become known for. It turned out to be one of the soldiers who’d returned to the disabled bus on the day of the bug out and taken charge. Nick remembered liking him, although he couldn’t recall his name. He wondered if anybody knew how many women were among the refugees. Couldn’t they find a woman to frisk the females?
Once they’d been searched, the refugees would be given new clothing and a place to bathe. Cleanliness was of utmost importance, the Committee had decreed repeatedly. Nick understood and agreed with this. The requirement that the refugees bathe was being taken so seriously that three members of the Sanitation subcommittee had been transported to Tabernacle during the night to prepare a makeshift shower facility.
After they were cleaned up, they’d be fed from the food stocks already stored in the Warehouse. Finally, assuming that no red flags had been found, and of course, that they accepted the offer of membership, they’d be assigned to cabins and transported to the village. Once there they’d be given two days to eat, rest, and regain their strength before beginning work on the fortifications.
Shortly after arriving at Tabernacle, Nick and Miguel went into the woods to inform the refugees of the decision, and tell them what was to happen that day. It was something he looked forward to. But when they reached the site, they stopped cold. Nick was sure this was the right place, but they weren’t there.
And then they were. Understandably, Jesse was the first to rise from his hiding place. As soon as he did, the rest emerged. They’d learned well about staying out of view, Nick saw. He watched them while Jesse made his way over, wondering which one’s wine he’d stolen and drunk.
“I wasn’t sure we’d see you again,” Jesse said. “I want to thank you again for the food.”
“We have good news,” Nick said. “They want you.”
“But you will have to work,” Miguel warned in his staccato English.
Jesse’s knees buckled. He grabbed at Nick’s shoulders to support himself until he regained his footing. “Thank you,” he said softly. “Thank you.”
“Don’t worry,” Nick said, backing away uncomfortably after Jesse was stable again. “You’ll earn your keep. We all do. In fact, they’ll try to work you to death. Now, here’s what we have to do.” He laid out the procedure, and then told Jesse they should be ready to follow him back to camp within fifteen minutes.
“We’re ready now,” Jesse said. “You took everything we have yesterday, remember?”
“Well, let’s go, then,” Nick said. “You all just want to follow me back to camp?”
Nick and Miguel decided that Miguel would take the lead, and Nick, who still had the pistol issued to him by Mark, would follow behind as they trailed through the woods. Nick was caught by surprise when one of the women stopped and hugged him as she passed by. Before long all the refugees, men and women, young and old, were doing the same. It was about twenty-five percent “Thank You” and seventy-five percent “Gracias.” After the last man had passed, Nick turned and followed. This time he left the pistol tucked safely in his pocket.
~~~
It all went according to plan. Knowing how much was at stake, the refugees complied with every requirement and passed every test. By midmorning they were scrubbed, dressed and fed, and had been shipped off to their new homes in the village. And just like that, two dozen hardy workers were in the fold, with an important job on the schedule for themselves.
The security man who patted down the refugees recognized Nick, and came over to talk. “Long time, no see.” When it was obvious that Nick didn’t remember his name, he introduced himself again as Carlo Moriarty.
“Not that I’m meddling,” Nick said after the small talk was over, “but are the refugees going to be living out here without any protection?”
“Nope,” Carlo answered. “Brother, you’re not out here working every day without protection, either. We’re here and we’re on the job. You don’t see us, but we’re here, twenty-four hours a day. Tabernacle is ours, and it’s going to stay that way. Besides the humans, we have a lot of supplies and equipment out here, right? No way we’re putting any of that at risk. Relax.”
“That’s good,” Nick said. “I was just worried because now we’ll have people living out here.”
“Yeah. We’re guarding them,” Carlo said. “And at the same time, we’re guarding them, if you know what I mean. We vetted them as best we can, but we’ll be watching them closely for a while since they’re so new.”
~~~
Nick had just settled back into building trusses in the workshop after lunch when a van pulled in. Knowing it was Matt and the Water Supply subcommittee, he dropped what he was doing and walked over. Only four members stepped out. Nick had already
met Crystal Monroe, although he couldn’t remember the circumstances. Matt introduced him to Sue Stocker, the head of the subcommittee, and Robby Gruber. Mark finally appeared, giving them his blessing and telling him that Nick had full authority as far as Construction was concerned. Then they climbed back into the van to search for a building site along the lake front.
Nick had only seen the lake himself once, but that turned out to be one more time than any of the Water Supply people had. He repeated what Mark had said about locating it as close to the center of camp as possible. “Of course,” Crystal snapped back. “That’s what we told him last night.” Nick wanted to groan. This had the sound of a turf battle. If both Mark and Crystal were on the Committee, it would be even worse. He’d seen it on job sites many times. That would make things even more difficult than they already were. He’d do his best to head it off by soothing the egos.
“Wait a second,” Nick said just before turning the key to start the van. “We have a plumber. He’s the man that should be here, not me. I’m gonna’ go see if they’ll let us borrow him for a while. I wonder why nobody thought of that.” He ran back and conferred with Mark, who nodded his head and summoned Del.
“Too many bosses around here,” Del growled as he trudged with Nick over to the van.
“I feel the same way,” Nick answered. “Every time I turn around there’s somebody I’ve never seen before giving me orders.”
“Is this about your Mexicans?” Del asked. Nick quickly filled Del in on what Water Supply was there to do, and why he and Del were working with them.
“Maybe we should all talk a little and get a feel for what we’re hoping to find,” Nick suggested after he and Del were back in the van. “Otherwise we’re just driving around checking out the scenery with no idea what we’re looking for.”
“We’re looking for the lake,” Robby said. “You know, like a swimming pool, but a lot bigger? Seen one around here lately?” He looked over at Crystal and Sue with a smirk.