Gone to Ground

by Cheryl Taylor

  “Alright, enough of the city slicker comments,” she growled. “Show me what needs to be done.”

  For the remainder of the morning O’Reilly worked on the horses’ feet, carefully trimming away the excess growth and returning the hooves to the proper balance using tools found stashed in the barn. Fortunately, he said, it appeared that the horses had been trimmed not too long before the disease struck and their owners died. Their feet were long, but they weren’t nearly as bad as they could have been.

  Maggie was nervous about having her primary means of transportation, and more importantly escape, put in an ‘out of commission’ status. However, she realized that if the horses weren’t cared for properly, they wouldn’t be available if and when the proverbial cow poop hit the fan. She watched carefully all the moves O’Reilly made, asking questions the entire time. Her journalistic background made her a voracious seeker of information, and in this case the information could be vitally important to her survival. By the fourth horse, she demanded to try it for herself.

  “You’re sure?” O’Reilly asked dubiously, sweat beaded his arms and matted his dark red hair to his head. He wiped his face on the sleeve of his t-shirt. “It’s not an easy job for a city sli... uh, I mean, novice.” He grinned. The smile looked more natural than those that came before, and less like someone with a face full of botox or the victim of abnormal muscle contractions.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Maggie stated with a determined set to her face, and a stubborn tone to her voice. “You were right when you said Mark and I didn’t have the skills we needed to live out here for an extended period. Hopefully it won’t be that long,” O’Reilly gave her a puzzled look, “but we need to be prepared for anything.”

  Two long hours later Maggie had finally completed her horse’s front feet to O’Reilly’s demanding standards and was dripping with enough sweat to rise the ocean’s level at least two inches. O’Reilly was taking it easy on a nearby boulder in the shade, enjoying the view, she thought sarcastically. She slowly straightened to a standing position, flexing her blistered hands and rolling her shoulders. Breathing heavily, she wiped her sweaty face with the back of one dirty forearm, then massaged her sore back. Her hair, darkened with sweat, felt as though it was glued to her head.

  “People actually do this for a living?” she asked in incredulous tones. “What are they, masochists?”

  “Don’t worry,” O’Reilly said, hiding a smile. “You only have two more feet to go. At this rate you’ll be done by midnight.”

  “You, my friend, are a sadist,” Maggie stated with conviction. “And I am a complete fool for asking to be subjected to this torture. When all of this is over, I will never look at a horse’s foot again. They can look elsewhere for their pedicures.”

  “You’re thinking that this situation won’t last long?” O’Reilly asked in an offhand manner, causing Maggie to glance quickly in his direction. He was still sitting on his boulder, but he no longer appeared relaxed. Instead of looking at her, he seemed busy studying the lines and creases of his darkly tanned hands.

  “Well, how long can it last?” she replied, studying his bent form. “Sooner or later the government will get their act back together. People aren’t going to put up with this concentration and APZ crap for long. They’re going to want to get back to their lives. At the most a year, maybe a year and a half.”

  “Mmmm,” he gave a non-committal answer and continued to examine his cuticles.

  Maggie tilted her head, looking at him intently. “I don’t get you. You left the APZ and left the Enforcers, and you haven’t given me a reason. What are you hiding?”

  Every muscle in O’Reilly’s body telegraphed his discomfort at this interrogation and Maggie began to wonder if their newly formed partnership would stand the strain of the tension without ripping asunder.

  Finally, after a long silence O’Reilly looked up and met Maggie’s eyes. “I had my reasons for leaving the APZ and the Enforcers, and those reasons are something that we’re going to have to talk about sooner or later. I realize that. It’s just that right now I’m trying to make sense of them in my own mind, and I don’t know how to explain them to someone else so that they seem rational.”

  “You’ve got to understand how much trouble I have accepting that,” Maggie countered.

  “Yeah, I know it sounds shaky,” he sighed. His dark brown eyes took on a distant expression. “It’s just the way it is. The thing is this, though. I want you to think about what direction the government, and the world as a whole, has been heading for the past twenty or thirty years, and do you really think that now that the authorities have total control over a completely demoralized population, they’re going to willingly give up that control any time soon?”

  Maggie’s look sharpened, her brow furrowed as she considered the scenario he presented and her journalistic sixth sense began to send out a clamourous ringing of warning bells. “You’re saying that they’re going to try and... what, develop a world where people only live in designated areas, under supervision and control? I can’t see how that would ever work,” Maggie stated adamantly, though even as she said it, a small voice in her mind spoke to the truth of the plan.

  O’Reilly looked up at her, studying her intently.

  “Global warming has been a concern of all the world’s governments for quite awhile now, even though many say it isn’t true. What’s one of the chief causes of global warming? People. People and all the things that people make and drive and are probably unwilling to give up. People and their wasteful habits and their refusal to take the environment seriously.

  “Now answer this question, what would be the best thing to happen to the environment? Reduce the number of people. Well, mother nature took care of that problem.” A fleeting look crossed O’Reilly’s face, more a flicker in his eyes, so quick that Maggie almost missed it. “Now our administration, with it’s loudly proclaimed green agenda, is considering taking up where mother nature left off.” O’Reilly’s agitation was growing extreme. He rose from his boulder as if pulled upright by an electric current.

  “Oh, come on.” It was Maggie’s turn to become agitated. “Do you really think that people are going to let the government get away with this? You can’t be serious.” Yet still the warning bells rang in the back of her mind.

  The pressure was finally too much for O’Reilly. “Who do you think has been running this country for the past couple of decades, lady? Politicians and lawyers, that’s who. People have been giving up their responsibility for a long time now, and if you think that those politicians and lawyers wouldn’t make this type of decision, will give up the control they have now, think again. They’ve been making these type of decisions on smaller scale for a long time now.” O’Reilly spun on his heel and stalked away toward the creek.

  Maggie was left sanding there, stunned, with no company but a half trimmed horse that was beginning to look impatient, a small black and white calf, and two sleeping dogs. Her mind was a whirl of ideas. Part of her kept denying O’Reilly’s statement, but there was a small niggling part of her that said there was truth in his words.

  She stood on the bare, dusty ground, looking at the stream where O’Reilly stood facing the running water, head bowed. After a few minutes of hesitation Maggie began to walk over toward him, wondering what she would say when she got there. As she approached him, he turned and the torment in his eyes was as obvious as a slap in the face. She faltered and stopped.

  He looked at her, his face and body under iron control, even if his eyes betrayed him.

  “There are a lot of things we are going to have to discuss, though not now. Needless to say, as an Enforcer, I was introduced to a number of things that I didn’t want to see, and that I’m not proud of participating in. I know you have questions, and you’ll get the answers, though you may not like them. The only thing I can assure you now, though, is that I’m no danger to you and your boy. I may be the one thing that will keep you from dying in the next few months. And,
the secrets I hold do not require immediate attention. Our first goal should be to get this place set for survival. I can tell you that it will probably be a very long time, if ever, before you get the chance to go home again.”

  Nodding her head slowly, and ruthlessly squashing all the questions that her journalistic instincts threw up in her mind, Maggie turned back toward the barn and the waiting horse, then turning her head, looked at O’Reilly and simply said, “Okay, come on. I’ve got two more feet to finish.”

  8

  There was a sharp rap on the outside of the office door, followed by an equally sharp “enter” from the dark haired man sitting behind the large wooden desk covered with papers and maps.

  The door swung open with a bang, admitting a sandy haired young deputy. He came to a stop in front of the desk, snapping the large, barrel chested man sitting there a sa

  lute.

  Great, thought Captain Seth Rickards, it’s one of the military ones, his expression sour. With the recent devastation of the country’s population, the government had been forced to cobble together a new type of law enforcement agency from the remnants of the many different military and law enforcement agencies in place before everything went to hell. Because the members of this new agency came from so many diverse backgrounds, the ranks had become intermingled, as had the rituals and procedures.

  Rickards had served the Laughlin Police Department for the past thirty years, since joining the force at twenty-five upon his graduation from the academy. Now he found himself in the position of having to integrate and streamline this branch of the newly formed, quasi military group aptly named the Enforcers. He took his job seriously, and worked hard to bring his team together, but he still hated dealing with the salutes and sirs that the military group brought to the table.

  Fixing the deputy with an intense stare, designed to turn a subordinate’s bowels to water, Rickards snapped, “What’s the report?”

  Deputy Knox seemed oblivious to the intensity being directed at him from the brown eyes. “Sir, the northwest annihilation team reports the areas of Preston, Lund and Hiko have been erased.”

  Rickards cringed inwardly at the matter of fact way that Knox reported the eradication of hundreds of homes and businesses. Most of the owners of these buildings were dead; some in the fire storms that had ravaged the Southwest for the past ten years, but many more from the disease that put the exclamation point to the end of an era. A few of these places, however, still had owners who where housed here in the Laughlin APZ, or in the Elko APZ to the north. Owners who came here expecting their properties to be waiting for them when they were allowed to return. In spite of his belief that what he and the other Enforcers had done was necessary for the community’s good, he still felt a wave a guilt over the wanton destruction, and over the lies that had been told to the people they were sworn to protect.

  The government gave a plausible excuse for the destruction. First they said there were so many buildings that had been damaged during the last few years of monster wild fires and violent weather, that they needed to be removed to prevent danger to the people when they returned.

  In addition, the government line was that many of these buildings were incubators for the disease. The authorities said that bedding and other belongings harbored the virus, and just as in the middle ages up through the 19th century it was accepted practice to burn the belongings of plague victims, the government now had to make similar decisions to prevent any more deaths from the influenza..

  Maybe, thought Rickards. His wife had been a nurse, and while he’d learned from her that animals could frequently become reservoirs for disease for long periods of time, and in fact the common held belief was that birds had been the original purveyors of this virus that had so devastated the world’s population, he couldn’t remember her ever telling him about viruses that lived for longer than a few weeks or months on inanimate objects. Maybe the authorities meant that there was a possibility that animals would get into the buildings and become infected and thereby become reservoirs, but somehow he doubted it. The Enforcers weren’t the only ones twisting the truth to make it more appetizing.

  Finally, the government claimed that these abandoned buildings provided the perfect hiding place for ghosts, those people who had avoided concentration, refused the authority of the restructured government, and were now considered dead for all intents and purposes.

  Rickards felt a wave of nausea roil through his stomach at the thought of these cutesy little names that were being handed out right, left and center. This post apocalypse era seemed to be filled with new meanings for old terms: ghost, exorcism, concentration, APZ. Why the hell do we always have to try and pretty things up? Rickards thought. It’s not as if it makes the situation any more palatable. We’re still destroying buildings, lives and changing futures, even if it is for the people’s own good.

  As much as it disgusted him, though, he knew these acronyms and other forms of shortened terms had been around for probably as long as there had been governments and other bureaucratic agencies. He didn’t have to like it, though.

  The problem of ghosts plagued him every day. The government considered these malcontents to be nothing short of terrorists, committing treason by refusing the concentration order, avoiding the APZs, and stealing from the communities’ already short supplies in order to survive. The governmental stance on ghosts was simple. Concentrate those possible of being converted to the community way of mind, and exorcize, or eradicate, those groups too entrenched and violent to be converted.

  Fortunately for him, and for the other Enforcers, the majority of people were so demoralized by the devastation wrought by the virulent disease that they were more than willing to let anyone who acted as though he knew what he was doing take charge. The concentration of the population of southern Nevada and the adjoining areas of California and northwestern Arizona had gone much easier than Rickards had ever imagined possible. Nevertheless, a few holdouts remained and now he asked impatiently for the deputy’s report on the most recent excursion of the exorcism team.

  “Team A surprised a small group of ghosts northwest of here about ten miles,” Knox reported. “They were well armed, with weapons apparently taken from abandoned homes and businesses in the area. There were five adult males and two adult females, as well as three children, two of them infants.”

  Knox paused. “What was the result?” Rickards rapped out.

  “The adults put up a fight, and all seven were terminated. The three young children were brought in and taken to the Nursery. After the fight it was discovered that this was the group that intercepted the supply shipment from the Elko APZ two weeks ago. They had the truck with all the food hidden in a large barn on the property. It has been recovered and brought in.”

  “Good,” said Rickards. That was the worst thing about the ghosts. Until the government was able to get the farms and factories back up and into production with a limited task force, APZs were forced to be extremely careful with the food and other goods that had been on the shelves prior to the climax of the disease when all production and importation halted. These ghosts had probably stolen enough food to last them six months to a year, while others here in the APZ went without.

  Deputy Knox stood at attention, waiting for a dismissal from the captain.

  “One last thing before you go, Knox,” said Rickards, “Has there been any word of O’Reilly?”

  “From what we can tell, O’Reilly made it out of the APZ, probably through the northwest entrance. We think from there he headed north, but it’s not certain.” A slight note of amazement crept into the deputy’s voice. “He’s done an impressive job of hiding his tracks, sir. He just seems to have disappeared into the back country. There have been no suspicious sightings on the seekers, nor have any of the patrols caught wind of him.”

  Rickards’ stomach soured again at the thought of O’Reilly, gone without a trace. With the information the man possessed, he was a danger that the authorities could not
afford to leave at liberty. The odds were, with his taciturn nature, O’Reilly might easily head somewhere remote by himself and never encounter another human. However, recently he’d seemed different, less the self contained hermit, although he didn’t interact any more with his fellow Enforcers. But there was that girl in isolation at the nursery. He left her there, though, when he disappeared. He couldn’t have been that invested, Rickards thought.

  It had always been hard to understand what was revolving in O’Reilly’s mind. There were rumors of a tragedy not long ago in his past that changed him. Hard to say if those rumors were true, since no one here knew him before the creation of the Enforcers and the concentration.

  Hell, he thought, no one knew anyone here before the concentration. Survivors were too few and far between for it to be anything more than chance that someone might know another person in his unit.

  Considering his options, Rickards said, “Have someone see if they can do some research into O’Reilly’s past. There might be something in the personnel file that would help us understand him and where he’s headed. Go back as far as possible. There’s got to be some clue about where he would go.”

  Deputy Knox nodded and, saluting again, turned to leave.

  “Knox, tell them to make this a priority. We have to find him and either bring him back in for questioning, or eliminate him all together. Am I understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Knox stated, standing again at attention. “I will relay the message,” and he turned swiftly and left the room.

  Rickards rose from his desk and began to pace the room, finally coming to a stop before the window looking out toward the Colorado River. He’s got to be found. O’Reilly’s got to be found and removed before he spreads dissension, before he causes an upheaval that will break down this whole shaky new system of doing things.