***
A week after her twentieth birthday, Andy took a break one evening from reading a medical book that Charlie had rescued from Aspen and went across the street to talk to Ben. He was tinkering around with Maria’s truck, which had been giving her problems for a while. “How’s it going?” she asked.
Ben looked up from under the hood. His hands were covered in grease, and he was sweating. The truck’s stereo was on, playing rock music from the CD player. She recognized the song but the name of the band had slipped her mind.
“I should be done soon. Her timing belt needed to be replaced.”
“Is that difficult to do?”
He shook his head. “The first few times, maybe, but now it’s like changing a light bulb.”
“I’ll take your word for it. What band is this?”
He took a swig of water from a thermos and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Def Leppard. My dad listened to them a lot growing up.”
“So did mine, I think.”
The sun was beginning to set, and they watched it descend behind the row of homes on their street. Ben started to say something when he saw his own truck make a turn onto their street and head toward them. “Good, they’re back. I’m starving,” he said as he wiped his hands off with an old rag and shut the hood of Maria’s car.
Charlie, Brian, and Jim had gone hunting. As the truck approached, two extra people could be seen riding in the back.
“I thought this town was empty,” Andy said as the vehicle drew near. Ben’s eyes followed hers.
The truck pulled up to the curb beside the house and Jim hopped out of the back before it completely stopped. Carrying a hunting rifle, he marched directly toward Ben. “Don’t worry, I checked them for weapons,” he muttered under his breath.
Andy heard the words and her eyes darted to the two strangers. They were older boys, each carrying a large backpack as they stepped out of the truck. Along with their scruffy appearance, they wore expressions of fatigue and hunger.
“Thanks, you have no idea how grateful we are,” one of them said to Andy after she returned from the house with two large glasses of water. They emptied the glasses within seconds.
Their names were Kevin and Matt. Their car had run out of gas fifteen miles east of Santa Rosa, and they’d been wandering west on I-40 when Jim and the others came across them on their way home.
“Wait, Ben? Ben and Jim?” Matt pointed back and forth between the two cousins after introductions.
“Yeah?” Ben replied wearily after a moment’s hesitation.
“Your last names aren’t ‘Kelly,’ are they?”
Ben and Jim exchanged the quickest of looks before Jim took one step back and raised his rifle until the barrel was pointed directly at Matt. “Who are you?” he demanded as both of the boys’ hands shot up in the air.
“Whoa, whoa! We’re not looking for you two, believe me,” Kevin pleaded.
“Yeah, the reward’s not that good. Besides, we’re unarmed. If we were hunting you, we’d have guns.”
“So if you’re not looking for us, what are you doing here?” Ben challenged.
“We’re just trying to get to Phoenix,” Kevin replied. “We both had family there and wanted to know if they’re still there.”
“Where were you before? New York? Philly?”
“New York. Brooklyn.”
“Why aren’t you two armed?” Jim asked as he lowered the barrel of his rifle slightly.
“We were, but our guns were stolen from us when we were sleeping one night in a campground in Missouri, along with all our food.”
Suddenly, Morgan could be heard shouting, “Grub’s up!” from across the street, alerting everyone that dinner was ready. Holding a squirming Katie, she emerged from the house and began heading toward them until she saw Jim holding a gun in front of two people she’d never seen before. She stopped dead in her tracks and twisted her torso to shield her child.
“It’s okay!” Jim called out to her.
“Who’s that?” Matt asked with curiosity. “And what’s with the baby?”
“Just neighbors,” Jim quickly responded.
“So why did you guys leave New York now?” Ben asked, putting the questions back on the two strangers.
Kevin looked away as he brushed his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, well, it’s gotten worse…much worse.”
“You probably won’t believe this, but Sean’s still got the virus, and he’s still using it,” Matt said.
More confused than ever, Andy watched as Ben and Jim give each other stunned looks.
Shutting his eyes and shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard, Ben finally blurted out, “What are you talking about? How…?”
“Sorry, man…what you and Jim did at the laboratory last year was legendary, but you didn’t destroy it all,” Matt replied apologetically.
“It’s true,” Kevin went on. “Everyone thought there might finally be a chance to finish Sean forever, but six months after you guys disappeared, people started dying again, but this time in larger numbers.” He then made a sweeping motion with his arm. “Whole towns and suburbs have been wiped out. Whoever Sean’s found to make more of the virus is very good, and very quick.”
“There must’ve been some sample he had stashed somewhere,” Matt further explained.
Ben turned away as though he couldn’t take hearing anything more. Even Jim had to grit his teeth to stay composed, and he gestured absently toward the house across the street. “C’mon inside. You must be hungry.”
Anxious, Andy and Morgan looked at each other and then back at Ben and Jim with questioning gazes. Morgan’s eyes narrowed on Jim while Andy crossed her arms over her chest. “You two better start explaining things.”
Jim looked at Ben, who started to shake his head. “We will,” he replied, ignoring his cousin. Then he and Morgan disappeared inside with Katie.
Andy cast Ben a long and discerning stare before wordlessly following the others inside.
Standing alone, Ben stared down at his dirty hands. He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Impossible,” he breathed.
Chapter XVII
Matt and Kevin had finished their meal and soon after fell asleep on the living room floor in the house across the street. Everyone was still gathered at the dinner table.
Andy began the inquisition. “Sounds like you two were pretty famous back east.” She glared pointedly at Ben.
“What all do you know about the virus?” Jim began.
“Nothing really. All we heard in Bermuda was something about a government project.”
“Something top secret,” Charlie added. “The news stopped once everyone started dying.”
“We heard pretty much the same thing,” Maria answered.
“Us too,” said Brian.
“So the part about the virus being some top secret government project was correct,” Jim confirmed. “What most people didn’t know was that the virus was designed to be a humane biological weapon.”
“How could a biological weapon be humane?” Morgan asked dubiously. “Was it supposed to kill people quicker or without pain or something?”
Jim shook his head. “Not that kind of humane. From what Ben and I were told, the virus was designed to distinguish the difference between an adult male and everyone else based upon the level of testosterone and other hormones that are naturally in the body. Those with high enough levels of testosterone who came in contact with the virus would be killed; those who didn’t would survive.”
“Why would the government create a virus like that?” asked Morgan.
But Maria had figured out the reason before Jim could answer. “So they could go after men like my father without worrying about killing women and children in the process. My father always knew that the DEA and the Mexican government would never go into his home if they thought his family was inside. That’s why he did all his business inside our house.”
Julio
frowned as his sister spoke but said nothing.
“That’s right,” Jim continued. “Terrorists in the Middle East used the same tactics. The virus was supposed to be a way to get around that problem.”
“So how did it end up killing everyone over a certain age, both men and women?” asked Andy.
“Because it wasn’t finished being tested. One day, a scientist left the testing facility not knowing he was infected,” Jim explained. “And the rest is history.”
“Where was the virus developed?” Charlie asked.
“Fort Detrick. It’s in Maryland, about fifty miles or so outside of DC.”
“Fort Detrick?” Andy repeated with surprise. “I’ve read about that place in some of my medical books. I thought that lab was shut down decades ago.”
“Apparently not.”
“How did you learn all this if it wasn’t on the news?” Charlie asked.
“We knew the son of the scientist who accidentally released the virus.”
“Is that this Sean person you were talking about?”
Jim glanced at his cousin. “This is really more Ben’s story to tell, so I’ll let him tell it.”
Ben was still staring at the lit candles in front of him. He swallowed hard. No one spoke once he began to explain.
***
The virus was the best thing that could’ve happened to Sean Taylor. Freed from the laws that society once lived by—laws that were not his own—he could finally fulfill his potential.
He had started at the bottom with everyone else, but as his fellow survivors wallowed in self-pity in their empty homes, he had acted quickly and strategically during those first weeks and months following the outbreak. And he never shed a tear for his parents, and there was no older sibling to mourn during those lonely hours between dusk and dawn.
Sean’s father had once stood in the same room where he now sat, and for nearly an hour, he had been lounging in the plush swivel chair with his feet propped up on the Resolute desk. Sunlight waned through the three windows behind him, the only indication that it was getting late.
This was his first trip to DC since the virus. The condition of the city was shocking. Just getting downtown had been nearly impossible. The roads were still clogged with cars, but everywhere had been abandoned. He had not seen a single soul the entire day.
Taking his feet off the desk, Sean spun around in the chair and stared upward, alternately fixing his gaze on and off the Seal of the President of the United States plastered on the ceiling. He smiled.
Later, he departed the White House by descending the steps on the south side of the building and frowned at the rainbow of spray paint on the white columns. The weeks of anarchy immediately following the virus had taken its toll on several monuments throughout the city, and the White House was no exception. He walked across the South Lawn toward the car waiting to take him back to New York.
***
“His name is Sean Taylor and he controls almost everything in New York, Philadelphia, some parts of Boston, and everywhere in between. He’s a narcissist, he’s manipulative, and…evil. I’ve never met anyone else like him in my entire life.
“In the early days after the outbreak, when everyone else was too scared to think, he was already plotting. His father was some general in the Army, so he knew to do things like stockpile weapons and food before anyone else could. And he had a way of getting people to do these things for him. If you thought Nataliya was bad, she’s got nothing on Sean. He made people believe that he cared about helping them and about getting the city working again. And early on, he did work hard, which only convinced everyone that he was someone they could trust.
“You probably remember those early days how age was everything, and the older you were, the more the younger survivors listened to you. Sean knew this, and he soon had a large following of survivors in New York. Then he picked his favorites to become his ‘Directors.’ Directors controlled specific things like food supplies or water treatment or getting power back to the city. There were nine of them in New York, and each was pretty powerful on his own.
“But Sean also knew he needed some of the smartest survivors to get things working again, so he went through hundreds and hundreds of school records at the best schools all over New York and had people find these super-smart kids—ones who skipped a few grades and even some who were in college—and convinced them to work for him. Kids like you, Charlie.”
Charlie cracked a rueful smile as Ben continued.
“The power grid was the first priority, and within a year, most of the city’s power was back on. And it was Sean who made that happen. After that, everyone wanted to work for him. Then he developed a kind of class system for everyone living in New York. The first class is the Directors, with Sean at the top. The next class is the army, or the Infantry, as we all called it. Sean started recruiting male survivors twelve years or older. Three thousand were chosen from more than ten thousand volunteers, and they became the Infantry, which has its own ranks like any army, and a Director leads it. Officially, the Infantry is like the police; they’re meant to keep order, but they really spend most of their time spying for Sean and stealing from the rest of the people. People ended up dead when they refused to give up their possessions, but now no one bothers to put up a fight.
“Fixers are the third class. All those smart kids that Sean recruited early on were the first Fixers. Then other survivors with useful skills were recruited; mechanics like me and Jim, farmers like you two…” Ben nodded toward Brian and Susan. “…even kids whose parents had taught them to fly airplanes. Anyone with a rare but valuable skill was recruited to be a Fixer, and it was the job of the Infantry to find these people…and they searched everywhere for them.”
“Why did he call them Fixers?” asked Andy.
“Sean didn’t want them to get an inflated sense of self-importance by calling them ‘experts’ or ‘specialists.’ But he never would have gotten where he is today without them. I mean, how many kids do you know who can fly a plane? I didn’t know anyone like that growing up, but Sean managed to find them, and now there’re a couple thousand of them.”
Looking tired, Ben combed his fingers through his thick, dark hair. “One thing Sean insisted on was that every Fixer had to be a male.” He glanced at Andy as an expression of disgust appeared on her face.
“No one in the Infantry and no Fixer has ever been a girl. For whatever reason, Sean thinks girls are worthless except for sex, so about three years after the virus, when the testosterone really started to kick in, he made up the fourth class. He thought it would be amusing to find the prettiest girls in New York and keep them around for him and the Directors. He called them Helens because they were all beautiful like Helen of Troy.
“Most of the girls he found resisted at first, but once he starting giving them certain privileges, they changed their minds. They live in nice apartments, wear new clothes, and always have enough food to eat. Some Helens are addicted to the attention they get. Some do it just to stay alive and live better. And since healthy girls are more fun to have around than sickly ones, Sean doesn’t mind giving them these things as long as they do what he wants. And they make his Directors happy, which makes them more loyal.
“Everyone else in the city is a Dreg. They’re the biggest group, but they’ve got no power. Life for them is based entirely on a system of reward and punishment. If you do something to piss off the Directors, the Infantry, or even some of the Fixers, the water and power in your house gets shut off and your food rations are cut, or you’re sent to one of the prisons Sean reopened. But if you do something to help him, like ratting out a neighbor for lying about the number of people living in their house in order to get bigger food rations, then you get rewarded. It all brings out the worst in everyone. No one knows who they can trust, and as long as everyone remains suspicious of one another, there’s no chance of anyone banding together to revolt.”
With his forehead glistening with sweat, Ben took another si
p of water. It was as though he’d suddenly aged ten years in the last few hours. After a final sip, he said, “Everyone just walks around the city like zombies, too scared to wake up.” Then he put down his water and abruptly stood up. “I’m going for a walk. Jim, you can tell them the rest.”
Without another word, he picked up his rifle and left the house, confusing everyone by this sudden halt to the story. When Andy started to rise from her chair to go after him, Jim motioned for her to leave him alone.
“You have to understand,” he began, “Ben was a Director and one of the few people Sean really trusted. He blames himself every day because he turned a blind eye to Sean’s behavior for so long. But he had a good reason. See, Ben had a younger sister. Her name was Karen.”
***
The roads on the Capitol Beltway and I-95 heading north were riddled with potholes, and with every jarring hit to the car’s suspension, Sean’s patience dwindled.
The driver, a Dreg with connections, had forgotten to bring extra containers of gas for the drive back to New York, and with two hundred miles to go, only a quarter tank was left.
Sitting alone in the backseat, Sean leaned forward until his face was within inches of the driver’s right ear. “I’ll give you ten minutes to find more gas after we run out. If you don’t find any by then, I’ll leave you on the side of the road.” He leaned back in his seat and rolled down the window. The summertime humidity was oppressive, but turning on the air would only burn more precious fuel.
The driver said nothing as fear in the form of beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and into his eyes, causing him to swerve the car slightly and strike yet another pothole.
“Go ahead. Hit another one,” Sean barked as the Infantry officer sitting beside the driver grasped the handle of his holstered pistol.
The driver quickly steadied himself. However, an hour later the gas tank ran dry and the car died between Wilmington and Philadelphia.
“Really?! How stupid are you?!” Sean mocked the driver. “You didn’t even try getting off the highway and checking a gas station. Get out of my car!”
Schism Page 15