by Ann Pino
“I think everyone’s here,” Doc said, breaking into her thoughts.
Cassie looked at the assembled group. She had learned a few names the night before, but many still eluded her. “Looks like a pretty big group just to go to the library. It’s only a few blocks away, right?”
“You need a group to protect your barter items,” Doc explained. “You never know what you’ll run into out there.”
“Two girls got attacked by wild dogs last winter,” said Julilla, a rangy high school basketball star. “But don’t worry. I think most of the dogs have become someone’s dinner by now. It’s the other groups you have to watch out for.”
“And loners,” another guard said. “The ones without a group are sometimes worse, especially if they’ve been bartering with the Pharms.”
“Who are these Pharms I keep hearing about?” Cassie asked.
“Don’t you have them in the suburbs? I thought they were everywhere,” Doc said. “They took over the drug stores and their plan is to get control over the entire city. They’ve got a big network and you can get just about anything pharmaceutical from them, if you can pay their price.”
“They keep slaves,” someone added. “They get kids hooked on drugs, then make them work for their fix.”
“If one of them is ever after you,” Julilla said, “Plan on killing him. They’re usually high and do crazy stuff.”
“There’s no reasoning with a Pharm,” Doc agreed.
This information made Cassie rest a nervous hand on the pistol she had been given. It wasn’t a weapon she was comfortable with, but she was glad to have it. She had also been given a blue suede gauntlet made from material cut from a lobby chair. Knowing she was an official group member helped allay her anxiety about wandering the city streets on foot. With Doc, two young boys carrying their barter items, and six guards, they headed out.
Cassie hadn’t paid much attention to the immediate area the day before, having been too upset by the shooting at the roadblock. Now she looked at the streets disfigured with dirt and blowing trash. Sewers had backed up, disgorging muck into the gutters. Intersections were bare of traffic lights and street signs, which had fallen during winter storms or been pulled down by bored and angry teenagers. Dead electrical lines dangled from poles and snaked across the road, ready to trip the unwary. It seemed nearly every window at street level had been broken, and the stench of rotting bodies wafted out of some of the buildings.
“The last grownups,” Doc said. “And the kids who’ve died since. Suicide, food poisoning, infections, accidents…things like that.”
Cassie didn’t need to be told all the ways young people could die. It hadn’t been unusual in the suburbs to break into a house and find infants dead of dehydration, or a teenager who couldn’t bear the devastation rotting in a homemade noose. “Why hasn’t anyone buried them?”
“Who should do it? And where? Some of us tried at first, but the cemeteries are full and it got to be too time-consuming to dig graves in the parks. Then winter came and we had other problems, like trying to survive.”
“Besides,” said a tall blond boy named Zach, “dead bodies keep the strays fed. Fat dogs and cats go good in the soup pot.”
He watched Cassie’s face for a reaction. Getting none, turned his attention to other matters and was soon deep in flirtation with Julilla.
They arrived at the library without incident and Cassie admired, as she often had in earlier times, the grand stone building with its stately columns. In the sea of glass skyscrapers twisting their modern shapes toward the clouds, the old library represented permanency, something transcendent that linked the present to the past.
The aura of timelessness was ruined by the guard contingent that met the Regents at the door. Several minutes of negotiations followed, culminating in the Regents being allowed up the steps while one of the library guards ran inside, returning with a serious girl in a plain blue dress and glasses, her hair neatly coiled at the nape of her neck. She sat behind a table and examined the Regents’ trade offerings. “These will get you about five fiction, maybe three non-fiction. The actual books you choose will determine the final cost.”
Doc nodded. “I’m familiar with the procedure. Do we still get to keep them for one week? And can we choose which items you’ll give back when we return them?”
The librarian gave him a stern look over the tops of her glasses. “Did you have a preference?”
“The cans of green beans.”
One of the Regents guards opened her mouth to protest, but Doc waved a hand and she remained silent.
“We’ll see,” said the librarian. “Pick some books and then we’ll decide.”
They were allowed to take one guard with them, so Doc selected Julilla. After being informed that they weren’t to speak above a whisper, they were taken to the stacks where other people were browsing, each led by a girl in stern librarian garb carrying a flashlight aloft through the dark rooms. Cassie soon found herself among the plant and wilderness books with a girl of ten shining her flashlight on the spines and glaring up at her from time to time through thick glasses that distorted her eyes, making them look as big as dinner plates. Cassie was disappointed with the selection, but she finally found a book that would suit the group’s needs and went in search of Doc.
She found him examining medical texts. “They won’t let me check out the Merck Manual,” he whispered in outraged tones. Before he could say more, his guide frowned and hushed him. With a sigh, he handed Cassie a book, indicating with hand signals that he wanted her opinion. It was an illustrated guide to home remedies for such ailments as colds, coughs and sore throats. Cassie nodded in approval.
Upon returning to the lobby, they handed their books to a girl whose badge identified her as a circulation clerk. She made some notes, consulted a chart and conferred with one of the older librarians. It was decided that Doc could have back his cans of green beans if he returned the books within seven days. The other goods they would keep as their fee.
“That’s some operation they run,” Cassie said as they walked back to the hotel.
“They’re efficient, I’ll give them that. Smart move, setting themselves up as guardians of knowledge in exchange for food and protection, but I hear the university has a library with better science resources.”
“We should go there sometime.”
“I keep telling Mundo, but he says it’s too far away. He doesn’t like wasting guards and trade goods on this sort of thing. He only authorized this mission to see what you’d come up with.”
* * *
The children who had gone to the florist shop didn’t do well. Most of the roses had been in glass coolers and had rotted in their rancid water when the electricity went out. There were a few bouquets that had been on display and the children brought these back dry and nearly perfect. Cassie examined them critically. There were enough to dose the people who were already showing signs of scurvy, but they would need a lot more.
After a lunch of watery soup Cassie was allowed to use the kitchen, where she showed Doc how to make rose hip tea while Sandra, the head cook, hovered over the operation, jealous of the intrusion on her turf. When Cassie informed her that the rose petals were edible, Sandra gave her a skeptical look but took the dried petals and put them in a plastic container for safekeeping.
The foraging team returned in the afternoon without much food, but with several cases of toilet paper which made them heroes to the children who were suffering from diarrhea. Cassie watched for Galahad to have a free moment, then told him about the roses. “Doc went to dose your cousin, but we’ll need a better source. What we have will last about a week, and that’s only if we treat the people who are already sick. There’s not enough to keep everyone else healthy.”
Galahad suggested a meeting. After the van was unloaded, he and David gathered a small group in the lobby. Aided by a phone book and the foragers’ good memories, they came up with a list of florists’ shops to search. “But it’ll p
robably be the same at all of them,” Galahad pointed out. “Everyone kept flowers in those big coolers.”
“What about the rose gardens at the zoo?” a girl asked.
“And the rich people’s houses in Washington Oaks,” someone else suggested. “They used to have a rose tour every year, remember?”
“Too many gangs around there,” David said. “But Mundo might approve a trip to the zoo.”
A few of the younger children clapped and nudged each other in excitement, whispering about giraffes and elephants. Galahad frowned and pulled David aside. After a brief discussion, David came back to the group. “We don’t know about the zoo trip, kids. Mundo will decide. It might be too dangerous.”
Something about the exchange struck Cassie as odd. She tried to meet Galahad’s eyes, but he shook his head and walked away. As soon as she could make an excuse, she left the rose discussion and hunted him down. “What was that about? You’re not planning to go there and get all the roses for yourself, are you?”
“I would never put my family’s needs ahead of the group,” he said. “Paul is a Regent in good standing and will get what’s fair. The hard part is to keep him from giving things away. That’s how he got sick in the first place.”
“So how come you’re discouraging the zoo trip?”
“I’m not. Not for us, at least. Just for the little ones.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Most of those animals died, you know.”
Now Cassie understood. The children would be expecting monkeys and elephants, balloons and popcorn. With everything else they had endured, they didn’t need to see the rotting carcasses of their favorite zoo animals, too.
“Supposedly there’s a Zoo Tribe that lives there,” Galahad went on. “They use the animals for food when they die, or kill them outright if they don’t die fast enough. They use the hides as a uniform. Or so I’ve heard. None of us has actually seen a member of the Zoo Tribe, but if they exist, it might be upsetting to the little ones.”
Cassie was about to comment when they came around a corner and found Leila, nearly bursting out of a low-cut sweater, lounging on a sofa. She was talking to an Indian teen who was doing something with a motor. Grease was smeared on the carpet, the sofa and on the boy’s hands, arms and clothes. Galahad walked over. “Is that what I think it is?”
The young man looked up and pushed a stray lock of hair off his face, leaving a streak of grease on his forehead. “If you think it’s an alternator, it is.”
“What are you doing with it?” Cassie said. “And why in here?”
Leila frowned at her but tried to make a proper introduction. “Cassie, this is Sid. He went to Van Buren High and was planning to go to Rensselaer and study engineering.”
Sid gave a curt nod. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t shake your hand.”
Cassie took a closer look at what he was doing. “I was signed up for an auto mechanics class at the community college when the Telo—”
“You?” Sid’s look of amazement stopped just short of a sneer. “A girl doesn’t need to fix her own car. Some guy will always do it for her.”
“I like mechanical things, and I was planning on a career as a conservationist. What was I supposed to do if my car broke down in a swamp three hundred miles from nowhere? Call AAA?”
“It’s kind of a moot point now,” Galahad said.
“Right.” Leila flashed him a smile before returning her gaze to Cassie. “Sid isn’t fixing a car, anyway. He thinks he can convert these alternators into miniature windmills so we’ll have electricity.”
“Only on windy days,” Sid cautioned. “But yeah, that’s the goal here.”
Galahad and Cassie watched in curiosity, asking questions until Sid became exasperated. “How about you let me get one working and then we can talk about what it will do and how to make more.”
Cassie mumbled an apology, but Galahad said, “If you want privacy, you shouldn’t work in a public area.”
“And where else am I going to get enough light?” Sid waved a hand at the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Outside is cold and windy, and any room with a door will be too dark. Once we’ve got a few of these generators going, there will be plenty of light. But until then….”
“We’ll leave you alone, then,” Galahad said. He started walking toward the supply room.
Cassie tagged after him, unsure what to do next. “Think I can help with the meals?” she asked. “I know a lot about camp cooking. Foil, rocks, box cookers, dutch ovens…things like that.”
“You’ll need to talk to Sandra.” Galahad opened a door and let her go ahead. The hall was dark but there was a flashlight on a shelf and he turned it on. “She’s in charge of the food. Me and David just forage.”
“She got a little weird when I was in there making tea.”
“Mundo lets her choose her own crew, but Sandra is reasonable and she can always use people who can make food that tastes decent and won’t poison us.”
By now they were at the storage room, which was guarded by a muscular former wrestler who introduced himself as Eleven. “Go relax,” Galahad told Cassie. “There’s nothing you can help with here. Dinner is at six. It’s a little more formal than the other meals and the planning meeting will be after, so you can mention your assignment preferences then.”
Cassie did as he suggested and went to her room. She hadn’t been there long when Leila came in and threw herself on her bed.
“How was your day?” Cassie asked.
“Boring. They had me clean things and then I had to help the kids with their lessons. When the grownups died I thought I was done with explaining fractions to fools.”
“Could be worse. The rose-gatherers mostly found rotting flowers and I had to deal with a weird library cult.”
“Sounds better than cleaning rat and roach droppings from the kitchen. We’ll have to be careful about what they feed us here.”
“It’s mostly stuff out of cans,” Cassie reassured her. “As long as the pots are clean….”
“They had me make sure of that.” She flopped onto her stomach and clutched the pillow to her chest. “This place sucks.”
“You seem to have met a nice guy. I know you weren’t hanging around Sid because you’re interested in mechanics all of a sudden. Or are you?”
“Oh, hell no.” She sat up. “But I’m not stupid. I need to make friends. I’m getting off this provisional status bullshit.”
“But if this place sucks…” Cassie said.
“Everyplace sucks since the grownups died. I had no idea….”
“Yeah.”
Leila looked like she wanted to say more, but lay back down instead and closed her eyes.
* * *
A little before six the girls were awakened by a pounding of feet in the hall and children’s voices shrieking, “Dinner time, dinner time, come and get it!”
Leila and Cassie combed their hair, straightened their clothes and headed down the stairs. They mingled with the others as they went into the restaurant and then hesitated, unsure where to sit.
David brushed past them. “No assigned seating, ladies. Anywhere is fine.”
Cassie wasn’t convinced. It clear to her eyes that the dining room was as cliquish as any high school cafeteria. Smaller children sat together chatting with their friends while their young leaders held court. The teenagers sat at their own tables, grouped by what appeared to be a combination of friendship and profession. Guards sat together, talking of training and tactics, while Alaina the teacher and some of the more fashionably dressed girls had their own table where they huddled together trading style tips, showing off their stolen jewelry, and casting flirtatious glances toward the boys.
One table was set apart from the others and this was where Mundo sat with two guards stationed behind him, as if he were a world leader in need of protection. He was flanked on each side by a pretty girl, one clearly pregnant and each casting hostile glances toward the other.
Cassie had just taken a few uncertai
n steps toward Alaina and her fashionistas when Doc waved to her. Glad to feel welcome, she hurried over with Leila in tow. But as Cassie slid into a seat, Leila became distracted by something going on at Sid’s table and went to his side with barely a wave of good-bye. Cassie considered following, but Doc’s eager conversation stopped her.
“I’ve been looking through that book,” he said. “Some of it’s pretty bizarre. There’s this one home remedy for the flu that involves a potato and powdered sulfur….”
Cassie listened to him ramble for a bit and pretended to be interested. Meanwhile, children in aprons came out of the kitchen with serving bowls. When her table got their bowl, Cassie leaned forward eagerly.
“The rule at dinner is the same as at other meals,” Doc said. “One scoop apiece until everyone has had some. Then if there’s enough, we can have seconds.”
Cassie poured a strange-looking blob onto her plate, concluding it was Spaghetti-O’s mixed with whatever else could be poured out of a can. She noticed though, that the guards’ table and Mundo’s group got extra food, including recognizable pieces of meat instead of little bits mixed into the rest of the food. Mundo’s table even had liquor. In spite of herself, Cassie found herself thinking of how everyone used to eat before the Telo. What wouldn’t she give to be back in her comfortable suburban home with her mother setting out a gourmet salad and plates of grilled salmon, and maybe some roasted potatoes and fresh bread picked up from the bakery that day. It had been so normal to have a table full of fresh food that it never occurred to her to be grateful.
“So what do you think?” Doc asked. “It would probably taste disgusting, but pine trees are easy to find and I bet no one else in town is harvesting the needles.”