by Kirby Howell
“I do, too,” said Rissi. “It’s just like Los Angeles.”
I took her hand, then stared at Grey while he leaned over another still body in the distance. I recognized it at once. A female form and a long braid. I’d been on top of her right before she was trampled. I lowered my head and closed my eyes.
How long could we keep doing this? I wondered. How long could we keep it up? The utter exhaustion from striving for survival every minute of every day was bound to catch up with us soon.
“We should go help out,” Ben said. “I heard Vegas has a medical clinic near here. We were gonna move all the wounded to it after we opened up the entrance to the Egyptian. Bet they’ll be moving the new injured there.”
Ben guessed right. Grey gave the order to move the wounded to the clinic around the corner, and over the next few hours, we all pitched in to help. Any lingering feelings of resentment between the few people living here from Boulder City were gone now. We were all suffering from the tragedies in Vegas, and we needed one another if we were ever going to get this settlement back on track. I joined the main group helping move patients, while another smaller group began wrangling the loose horses and shutting them back into the corral. Snicket was nowhere to be seen, and I occasionally called out for her when I thought I saw her familiar butterscotch coat. But it was never her. Not knowing where she was made me feel even lower.
The clinic was a few blocks from the Egyptian and was mostly spared the effects of the sandstorms. Franklin approved the use of a few gallons of gasoline to be siphoned and put into a pickup truck we used as a makeshift ambulance. Once a route through the dunes to the clinic was established, I rode in the back of the truck with two patients at a time, holding up IV bags for the short ride to the clinic.
While unloading one patient, I saw Grey through an open doorway, grimacing while setting a broken bone. I wished I could stay to help him, but we had too many people to transport.
When I returned to the Egyptian for another trip, Ben and Shad met me. They were helping a man outside, who leaned heavily on both of them. I recognized him immediately. It was Josh Hamilton, from the Welcoming Committee in Hoover. My usual distaste for him waned when I saw his head loll to the side as the guys helped him into the bed of the truck. I jumped forward to assist. It was the first time I’d ever seen the statuesque man so helpless.
“He doesn’t look too good,” I said, checking his pulse. It was slow, but there.
“He took a blow to the head,” said Ben, handing me the cloth he'd been holding to Josh’s head. I gently separated his inky black hair to take a look at the cut. It was nearly three inches long and heavily crusted over with blood.
“Well, it’s not bleeding anymore. That’s a good sign.”
Josh mumbled something up at me. I eyed him curiously, noticing for the first time that his eyes were slightly parting.
“He’s conscious,” I said. “We better get going.”
They loaded Josh into the back of the pickup truck, and we slowly made our way to the clinic, the driver gently maneuvering around bumps. I leaned down to Josh, whose eyes were a little more focused now.
“Josh? Do you know who I am?” I asked.
“Joan,” he mumbled.
“My name is Autumn.” I used a clean corner of the cloth to wipe grime from his forehead. “From Hoover. Remember?”
His voice was low, and I strained to hear him over the truck’s motor. “I know who you are. The martyr of Hoover. Our own little Joan of Arc.”
“We’re going to the medical clinic. You hit your head during a stampede.”
His eyes bobbed closed, and he continued mumbling. “Leading her armies to war, dressing like a man, shunning the men around her.”
My brow crinkled. I felt his forehead, but he wasn’t feverish. He was talking like he was out of his mind, but his voice became steadier as he went on.
“Our little martyr. Autumn of Arc.”
“We’re almost there,” I said, my bedside manner cooling toward him.
“You know she was burned at the stake when she was nineteen? How old are you?” I stared at him, shaken. Was he out of his mind? Or was he warning me? Or threatening me?
The truck pulled up to the medical center, and Grey ran to meet us. “He has a gash on his head, right above his ear. He’s awake, not sure if he’s lucid though. He’s been calling me Joan of Arc.”
Grey looked up at me, surprised. “Really?” he said.
“Is he gonna be all right?” I asked, as Grey situated Josh on a rolling gurney.
“I’ll keep an eye on him. How many more patients are there left to move?”
“This is the last stampede victim,” I said. “Got a few more rounds to go, so we can bring you all of the patients left inside the Egyptian. But all those people are stable, as far as I know.” Grey nodded and was gone before I could say another word.
The day slogged along, and I was glad when Sam and Rissi joined me for the last few trips to the medical facility. The shoulder Karl had dislocated a couple months ago during our fight at the radio station was throbbing. I must have strained it during the stampede and not noticed. I shrugged my sore shoulder, trying not to wince as a mild pain waved down my back.
“Autumn, let me hold the bag for a little while. You keep an eye on this one’s pulse for me,” Sam said, exchanging seats with me. I smiled gratefully at her and stretched my shoulder after I handed her the bag.
“I’m really glad you weren’t hurt in the stampede. When I saw the horses coming, I was so scared either you or Ben were going to be trampled. I suppose it’s selfish, but I don’t have a lot of friends yet.”
Against my better judgment and despite our past, I’d begun to like Sam. I had a feeling she liked Ben, and I didn’t want to step on any possible chance for his happiness, even though her past relationship with Karl greatly concerned me.
“I understand,” I said. “That was a terrifying experience.”
“Yeah,” Sam continued. “I wanted to get away so badly, but I didn’t want to hurt anyone. But they were all rushing at me. I wish I could just forget the whole thing.” She stared off in the distance, new tears shining in her eyes.
“We all do,” I whispered.
“Autumn...” her voice changed. “I’m scared.”
“We’re all going to be fine. We’ll get back to Hoover, and life will go back to normal.”
“No, it’s not that,” Sam said, adjusting the IV bag she held and looking toward the approaching medical center. Her once-pretty face looked sallow and pinched in the unfiltered, noon sun.
“What are you scared of?”
“Karl.”
His name sent a wave of tension through my stomach, and I tried to take a breath and release the tight muscles. “Don’t be. He can’t reach us here. He’s miles away.”
"What if he isn’t?” Sam said.
“Did you see him?” Rissi asked, now at attention.
“Sam, do you know something?” I asked, concerned, fear fluttering inside me.
“No, no. Nothing like that,” Sam replied. “I just meant, what if he’s got people out here, watching us? All this bad stuff. It could all be his doing.”
I put a hand on Rissi’s shoulder, wishing she weren’t in hearing range. “You’re being paranoid. I really think your past with him has you on edge. I mean, most of the damage to this town was caused by a sandstorm, and it’s not like Karl can control the weather.”
Sam sat quite for a moment, considering. “I guess you’re right,” she said. “It’s just that, when I left... well, I deserted. He doesn’t forget things like that. And if he were here, I could be in real danger.”
This time I reached forward and placed a hand on her knee. “You aren’t in any danger. We’re all here for you. We won’t let Karl get to you, ever again. I promise.” I saw Sam choke back tears as she nodded her thanks.
When we finished transporting all of the wounded, we rode with the truck back to the parking garage behind the
Egyptian. Rissi reclined in my lap, and I played with her hair, letting my mind wander. In the shade of the garage, the gasoline tankers and the few cars that had been properly maintained were lined up in a row, taking up half of one deck. When the driver parked the truck, I eased myself out and helped the others.
“Hard to believe that’s the last of all the fuel in the West,” I said, staring at the long row of tankers.
“Well, that we know of. There may be more out there,” speculated Sam. “Still, it’s more than The Front had in Los Angeles after The Plague. Karl spread it around, so I guess we could’ve had extra. It’s still impressive they were able to save this much. I wonder where we’d keep it if we had, you know, loads of it? Additional tankers? Wells? What do you do with gas? Doesn’t it evaporate after time? Seems like it would. Can you imagine the massive headache you’d get if it was your job to stay around a big well of gas and protect it? Talk about the fumes!”
Her sentences rambled as she strung them together, and I was reminded of the cocky girl waiting in her concert chair the day we’d first met. I wondered if this slightly spacey girl was the real Sam. I almost chuckled at her as she jabbered on. I nodded in understanding, and she tailed off. “Crazy, isn’t it?” was the last she said. I agreed. It was crazy. Gas had always been more expensive on the West Coast, but at least there had always been plenty of it to go around.
“Sam, you talk a lot,” said Rissi.
“Yeah. I guess I do.” She laughed.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get inside.”
The next day, a memorial service was held to honor all of the people lost the past few days. A beautiful ballroom, nearly identical to the one that served as a temporary triage area, housed rows of chairs and a podium in the front. Among the dead were three men who had been scouting outside the city on horseback and not returned after the sandstorm, the twenty-eight people who died from the explosion after the helicopter fell into the Egyptian, and the nineteen victims from the stampede yesterday, including Vonna. On top of those losses, nearly fifty people were at the medical center down the street being treated for their injuries. The amount of human suffering in Vegas was nothing short of staggering.
There were no candles to light, and flashlight batteries needed to be conserved, so a few people spoke simply about those who’d been lost.
I was surprised when I saw Grey leaning against the wall just inside the doorway. I didn’t think he’d be able to get away from the clinic. He looked weary, reminding me of how he’d looked after the long trip back to the underground camp in Los Angeles. He was down one on his medical staff. JR, from Hoover, was one of the nineteen killed in the stampede.
The loss of JR was compounded by the fact we still couldn’t get in touch with Hoover to report the situation and ask for more help. At the end of the memorial, Franklin said the light at the top of the pyramid would be extinguished for twenty-four hours, in remembrance of all the lights that had gone out in their city.
The beam at the top of the pyramid was the last reminder of the city’s former glory. Seeing it go out, and knowing what it symbolized, was a weight that sat on my chest like an anvil.
The service came to a close with a shaky version of “Amazing Grace.” Not everyone knew all the words, but the sentiment wasn’t lost. My parents’ faces were in the forefront of my mind, and my feet felt heavy as I filed out of the ballroom with everyone else. I wished my parents could have received some kind of service, despite everyone who’d ever known them being dead, except me. And Sarah.
A small voice in my mind rang out. I stopped walking, letting everyone else file past me. Sarah. I’d had no time or space inside my head to think about her much since leaving for Las Vegas. I needed to get to her. I hated knowing she was scared and being held by Karl. I hated that I hadn’t been able to leave yet to go find her. But I would, and soon. I quietly promised myself.
As I was thinking this, I saw Grey farther down the dark hallway, and I hurried to catch up. We hadn’t spoken since our brief conversation at the clinic yesterday.
“Grey!” I called out as I caught up with him. He looked at me briefly then continued walking. His eyes were slightly unfocused, as if in a trance, and the skin under his eyes was dark and puffy. Concerned, I asked, “Have you slept at all?”
He stopped walking suddenly and turned on me. “Why?”
“Because you look –”
“No, why are you frightened of me? I’ve never hurt you, never done anything to warrant you being afraid of me. So what is it?”
I let the last few people filter out of the hallway, and we were alone in the semi-darkness. He waited, watching me. The plainness of my answer worried me. Would it anger him? His eyes suddenly came alight, as if he knew I had an answer, and I found myself opening my mouth to the truth. “You’re, you’re a,” I hesitated, not wanting to say the word.
“An alien?”
I nodded. His lip curled in disgust, and he looked away quickly.
“And this is just now occurring to you? This is why you flinch away from me whenever we’re close?”
“Yes!” I replied, almost too loudly. “I mean, I knew, of course, because you’d told me and shown me what you could do, and I believed you. But I guess I didn’t really understand, or comprehend... the magnitude of what you told me was... it was made real that night on the dam. And then I’ve been having this dream over and over and I –”
“What kind of dream?”
I stared at him. It was as if he knew. Shaking my head, I said, “It’s not important –”
“Yes, it is. It’s keeping you from talking to me, from trusting me! Of course, it’s important.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Suddenly, I felt foolish for being frightened by a dream. Foolish for pushing away Grey, the one person I knew I could trust implicitly. Foolish for wasting so much time.
“Autumn, listen to me,” he said, gently placing his hands on my shoulders. “I will never... ever... hurt you. In any way.” He paused, his brow crumpling in concern. “Don’t you believe me?”
The weight in my chest suddenly lifted, and sadness over our lost time rushed in to fill the now empty space. I wanted to nod so badly, but I couldn’t make my head move. The truth was he did frighten me. Not because I thought he’d physically hurt me. It was the knowledge Grey even existed that frightened me. Other intelligent beings were out there, moving around us, observing us. All we knew about the universe was dwarfed by what one historian from The University knew. And he’d been among us, unnoticed, for hundreds of years. It was too much to accept.
His hands slipped from my arms, and I looked up at him, wanting to explain how I felt, but the moment for it seemed to be over. He leaned against the wall, rubbing his eyes.
“Fine,” he said, as if giving up. “That’s just fine.”
I stared at him, feeling helpless and weak. I was so tired. I fought against the urge to slide down the wall to the floor and not get up. But Grey had to be more exhausted than I was.
“When was the last time you slept?” I asked, suddenly curious if he took a break since we arrived in Vegas two days ago.
“I slept for a couple hours in the spa suite after our feast with Vonna,” he answered.
“That was the night before last! Grey, you have to rest.”
He took a deep breath, and I could see how fatigued he really was.
“Go get Lydia,” I urged him. “She could hide from the Hoover people and help you in the clinic.”
“That’s not possible,” Grey began.
“Yes, it is,” I argued. “You have to. She can say she came up here by herself when they didn’t hear from us –”
“That isn’t the problem,” Grey interrupted, his voice aggravated.
“I know you hate breaking rules, but you can’t keep this pace up. You can’t do this on your own!”
“I have to do it on my own, because Lydia isn’t in Hoover anymore,” Grey snapped.
I stepped back in
shock.
His face fell. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice lower. “I’m just tired.”
“Where did Lydia go?”
“Remember when I didn’t meet you at the Winged Figures a few nights ago? Lydia found me right after you left the dance.” He paused, staring at me as if deciding whether or not to tell me.
“What happened?” I pressed.
“The University is at the end of their traveling period. Do you remember what I told you about astral projection and the ship?”
“You can only astral project back to it when it’s...” my voice trailed off and coldness began to spread inside me. “When it’s still...” I finished.
“She went back,” he said flatly, looking at the floor.
The coldness spread through my core, freezing my stomach, my lungs, my heart, and flowed through my veins to the tips of my fingers and toes, numbing me all over until I couldn’t move. He would leave, too. He’d leave this ruined planet and go home. No one at The University knew about Grey’s rule-breaking feelings for me, except Lydia. He could go back and start over. And I would never see him again.
“I couldn’t persuade her to come with us to Vegas. She left right after we did. That’s why I was so upset on the road here,” he explained. “Well, that and... this,” he said, motioning between himself and me.
All I could do was nod. My mouth didn’t want to open. Not that I knew what to say. Now that The University ship wasn’t moving, it was possible for them to astral project themselves there. The ship only “docked” once every four years to allow their field historians a chance to project back to restock on E-Vitamin, transfer records of what they’d observed to the ship’s main database, and catch up on news.
The rest of the time, The University ship was in motion, and never in the same spot for very long. It was because of this that Lydia hadn’t left when The Plague struck Earth. Grey told me he wouldn’t have left even if he could have, because he felt it was his duty to help. Being a doctor and immune because of his E-Vitamin were assets we desperately needed. He also told me Earth reminded him of Andros, his home planet. But not anymore. Not after The Plague.