by Ellis, Tara
“Why haven’t we heard of this until now?” Major Visor asked, paling in the already dim light. “I’ve seen it abroad and it’s a nasty, nasty bug.”
“For the same reason everything else is slow in getting reported,” Walsh said unapologetically. “There’ve been some documented cases of extreme gastric illnesses springing up, but everyone assumed it was from the radiation, since the initial symptoms mimic it. It wasn’t until yesterday that excessive deaths in Helena were recorded and we immediately implemented a quarantine at the shelters already erected. We’ve had a few cases at Shelter M4 and three of the four were successfully treated.”
“They either died or recovered in a day?” O’Shane’s mouth hung open and he looked to General Montgomery for confirmation.
“Yes. It’s incredibly virulent and progresses rapidly.” Montgomery stood then and approached the map with his hands clasped behind his back. It was a pose he’d found himself in a lot lately and it helped to settle his thoughts. “It’s yet another reason among many why it’s paramount that we move quickly into our next phase.” Turning, he faced the joint commanders and Walsh. “The shelters are only temporary. Even at full capacity, we’ll be helping thousands, not millions. That’s unacceptable.”
“The next phase being locating and invading small towns that meet your criteria for a sustainable community?” Admiral Baker asked.
It was a pivotal moment and General Montgomery recognized it for what it was. Instead of fear or intimidation, he felt righteousness. He knew then, without a doubt, what was needed for the continued survival of the United States of America and what was left of her people. “Yes,” Montgomery said with resolve. “And I am sure, Deputy Commander, that when the first of those communities are thriving in a world otherwise gone mad, you will gladly take up residence there.”
Chapter 17
DANNY
FEMA Shelter M3, Monida, Montana
“You look good in black.” Danny smiled at Sam before leaning down to give him a hug. Grace danced around his chair, whining, and then licked his hand when he offered it. It was a huge relief to see him not only up and dressed in the same uniform as the rest of them, but seated at a table, eating the last remnants of a late dinner.
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Sam replied, grinning up at her. “Someone finally listened to me.”
Danny took the vacant chair next to him as Grace lay contentedly at his feet, and quickly surveyed the room. The infirmary tent was twice the size of the one they’d been corralled in for the quarantine period. There were three other patients, two of them sleeping in cots at the far end of the room, and a man who was playing a card game with the nurse at a table next to them. Three tables took up the center space, and a couple of shelves that were likely pillaged from the town bordered either side of the entrance, full of supplies. It looked like a MASH unit from an old war movie, and Danny figured it was enough to deal with most simple medical issues.
“I’m getting out of here in the morning,” Sam said while pushing around a dry lump of instant mashed potatoes. “It’s amazing what twenty-four hours on steroids can do. I’ve already been assigned a new tent in the men’s quarters.” He tilted his head sideways and raised an eyebrow at her. “You look like you’ve had a rough day.”
Danny glanced down at her dirty clothes and chuckled. “They’ve definitely kept me busy. I spent hours stacking firewood, collecting water for boiling, and clearing more space. It sounds like they’re expecting a huge influx of refugees from both the north and south, as far as Helena, Idaho Falls, and Pocatello. They intentionally set up camp here, in the middle of nowhere, so they’d avoid being overrun.”
“Smart,” Sam said. He pushed his plate away and leaned back in the chair. “Too bad the people who lived here didn’t have any say in it.” He pointed to one of the occupied cots. “The guy back there was injured a few days ago in a scuffle with Dillinger’s men. They requisitioned his house by force so the corporal could use it as his headquarters.” The nurse looked up from the cards in her hand and gave Sam a disapproving look.
Ignoring the woman, Danny scooted her chair closer to Sam and lowered her voice. “What are we going to do, Sam? They won’t let me see Tom, and every time I’ve asked about Ethan, I’m told he’s busy. I don’t believe Dillinger is going to just let Tom out, do you?”
“Ethan came to see me,” Sam said without any preamble. “That kid is more resourceful than both of us combined. He’s managed to get in the good graces of half the soldiers here.” Pausing, Sam looked over his shoulder and then gestured at the entrance with his chin. “I’m getting some fresh air, Ellen.”
Ellen squinted at Sam over the top of her cards. “Don’t go far. The cooler air could trigger another coughing fit and I’d like to avoid another breathing treatment tonight, if possible.”
Sam waved a hand at her in acknowledgement and then took Danny’s arm. Grace jumped to her feet and happily plodded after them as they made their way outside where it was already getting dark.
“Grace seems to be doing well,” Sam observed, petting the retriever’s head.
Danny wandered over to the nearest fire, noting the chill that was back in the air. The northern lights were already out in full display, despite the sun not being all the way down and she tipped her head back to look up at it. “She’s the only one having fun here,” Danny answered absently. “Sam, do the lights seem to be getting stronger?”
Sam moved up next to her, holding his hands out towards the fire. “Yeah, I think so. Funny how we’ve already become so accustomed to them that the subtle changes are being overlooked by most people.”
Danny ignored the psychological aspect of his response and instead focused on the more immediate concern. “Why? I mean, what’s causing it to get brighter? The gamma-ray burst was eleven days ago.”
Sam tossed another log on the fire before answering, and Danny wasn’t sure if it was because he had to think about it or if he didn’t want to say it out loud. “To put it simply, it’s caused a chain reaction in the atmosphere. Both with the destruction of the ozone layer, and also with the literal conversion of molecules into new ones. It’s ongoing, and I don’t know how long it will last, or how much the changes will affect us here on the surface.”
“It shouldn’t be this cold.” The chill Danny felt was from more than the cool air.
“The orange haze we’ve noticed increasing might have something to do with it.” Sam looked at her then and shrugged in resignation. “It’s simply impossible to know for sure.”
“The one thing we do know is that we have to get out of here if we ever want to get to Mercy,” Danny said, turning back to the fire. “I think we could still walk out tomorrow, but I want to wait and see what happens with Tom. We need him, and the horses. We still have around two hundred miles to go. What did Ethan say?” Danny looked at Sam and saw him grin at the question. “I hope you’re right and he was more resourceful than me, because I got pretty much nothing. They wouldn’t even let me near their radio. I was hoping to get some more information about Helena and maybe even Mercy, but I was told it was restricted to military use only.”
Sam took a moment to make sure no one else was nearby before answering. “Ethan was insistent that we leave first thing in the morning, while everyone is still at breakfast.”
Danny frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. He wants us to leave without him or Tom? What about the horses?”
“There were some other people around when we were talking and someone came to get him before we could manage to have a more private conversation,” Sam explained. “It’s clear that he’s planning something, though. He did say for us to leave through the north gate and then wait a mile or so up the road for a day before leaving.”
Danny crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “No way am I leaving them.”
“I think we should listen to him.”
Danny stared at Sam in dismay. “Sam, obviously the kid’s planning some
thing and he wants us to have a head start in case it goes wrong.”
“I’m a liability.” Sam jammed his hands into his pockets at the same time that he was racked by a deep cough. Danny knew that while he was doing a lot better, in addition to the cold air, any sort of exertion would cause his airway to react. It’d be a few more days on the medication before things really calmed down.
“Maybe.” Danny knew better than to try and sugarcoat things with the older man. “But Ethan could also be considering the fact that having us on the outside might be beneficial. Especially if Dillinger has something else planned for Tom.”
Sam looked sideways at Danny and narrowed his eyes at her. “Danny, Ethan said not to try anything and to just leave. He’s smart. I think we should have some faith in him and do what he says.”
“Sam!” Nurse Ellen was standing in the entrance to the infirmary, hands on her hips. “I heard you hacking out here. I told you what would happen, now get back inside!”
Grimacing, Sam held up a hand in acknowledgement before giving Danny a quick hug. “Six tomorrow morning,” he whispered. Kneeling down to Grace’s level, he kissed the top of her head. “Take care of her,” he said while winking at Danny. “She’s a stubborn one.”
Danny watched as Sam walked back inside with the nurse and then reached out blindly for Grace. Finding her friend’s furry ears, she absently rubbed them while mulling over the new information. Slowly, a strong feeling of resolution welled up in her chest as Danny thought about Tom’s last words to her as he was being led away.
She had no idea why Ethan and his dad had been thrust into her life. They both confused her, and most of the time, she wasn’t sure what she was feeling. The only thing Danny was certain of was that she wasn’t ready to have them taken away. Because through all of the chaos and confusion, whether it made sense or not, she needed them. As much as she needed Sam and Grace. They were a part of her new family.
Relieved to have made up her mind, Danny walked away from the fire with a satisfied smile on her face. It was a good thing she’d never been one to follow orders.
Chapter 18
RUSSELL
Less than 100 Miles south of Mercy, Montana
Russell paused with the water bottle halfway to his mouth and held his breath, listening. Sure enough, he heard the sound of a lone horse clopping up the road. If he hadn’t stopped for a break, he probably would have run right into them.
He leapt from his bike and hurried to roll it behind the nearest tree. He preferred to have the upper hand whenever he encountered someone new, and there was no need to reveal his form of transportation. People were killing for a lot less. Russell grinned at that thought and added an extra spring to his step.
Thirty paces from where he stored the bike, he positioned himself off to the side of US Route 89. It was an incredibly scenic road and Russell had come to appreciate the majestic beauty of the Rocky Mountains. Although tiring, biking through the silence was most therapeutic.
The thick woods lining the road made it impossible for him to see who was approaching until they came around the bend. As that was about to happen, Russell was startled by unexpected movement nearby. No more than fifteen feet away, a teenaged boy leapt from the underbrush, knife in hand.
While Russell grunted and took an involuntary step back, the boy turned, and his shocked expression confirmed that he had also been unaware of his approach. Instinct took over and Russell lunged forward when the teen hesitated, knife held high over his head. Grabbing the wrist of his knife-wielding hand, Russell twisted it around and up, forcing the boy’s arm behind his back. Some extra pressure applied to the right spot released the boy’s grip on the knife and Russell easily disarmed him. Before the kid even knew what happened, he found himself crying out in pain, his right arm nearly dislocated, and his own knife held firm against his throat.
Russell was aware of more movement from the opposite side of the road. As the horse and rider came into view, two men armed with large sticks ran forward, still determined to carry out their botched ambush. However, the scuffle between Russell and the boy had already alerted the rider and he watched as the expert horseman fired off a couple of shots from his rifle at the ground near the men’s feet.
“Woah, man. Take it easy!” one of the men cried out, throwing his hands up in the air. They both looked to be in their mid-twenties and were dressed in rags. Dark bags under their hollow cheeks added to their look of hopelessness.
Russell stood holding the boy against his chest with one arm, the other with the knife pricking the delicate skin of his neck. He envisioned the blade slicing into the teen’s throat, releasing his life and righting the balance. However, as his eyes flicked from the knife to the rider, he noticed that the man was wearing an unusual shirt.
Mercy Postal Service was stitched on to the left breast of the white and blue polo in bold letters. Russell also noticed large leather saddle bags were draped across the flanks of the horse, with PONY EXPRESS hand-written in marker on the one he could see.
Deciding to make the most of the unexpected opportunity, Russell whispered into the boy’s ear. “You hesitated. Next time…don’t.” With that bit of parting advice, he shoved the kid away from him and then threw the knife at his feet when the boy spun around.
“Get out of here!” the rider shouted, raising his rifle for emphasis that wasn’t needed. The two men were already backpedaling.
“Come on, Jason!” the tallest of the two shouted at the boy. Jason leaned down to retrieve his knife, never taking his eyes off Russell. As he backed away, he grinned before running down the road after his friends.
“Probably shouldn’t have given him his knife back. My name’s Jed.” Jed was leaning sideways while still in the saddle, holding out a hand.
Russell moved in close enough to shake the offered hand, being careful to avoid the horse’s head. “Russell Rogers.” Assuming the dead deputy’s surname was easy enough, though he wasn’t currently wearing the badge. There’d be plenty of time for that later. “They’re starving,” Russell said, moving back out of reach of the horse. “Taking their only pitiful weapon would only make them more desperate.”
Jed shrugged and then tipped his cowboy hat up from his forehead, removing the shadow it caused and exposing his face to the sunlight. Russell guessed he was at least thirty and appeared hardened. He had intelligent eyes that followed Russell’s movements closely, and he surmised it was a good thing he’d already gotten on the guy’s good side.
“I figure I might owe you my life,” Jed offered.
“I don’t know about that,” Russell said humbly. “Something tells me that even if they’d surprised you, they wouldn’t have managed to cause too much harm.”
“Where you headed?”
Yup. Not a man for small talk. Russell rubbed at his chin and let out a sigh. “I’m afraid I’m on a mission for a friend of mine who didn’t make it.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Jed said without much empathy.
“We worked together down in Wyoming at an…institute. We were traveling to his hometown of Mercy, when we were attacked.” Russell looked away for an appropriate amount of time, pretending to gather himself. “I promised that I would continue our journey without him, and let his parents know what happened.”
“What was his name?” Jed asked, not commenting on the fact that he was wearing a shirt with the town’s name on it.
“Tim Ridgeway,” Russell answered. “A good, honest man. Best friend I ever had.”
Jed scratched at his head and then shifted in the saddle. “Don’t know the name, but I only moved to Mercy a couple years back. You ever been there?”
“No, sir. I’ve never been this far north in all my life. After listening to Tim talk about it for the past year, I feel like I’ve been there.” Russell gestured to the shirt and then the saddle bags. “I take it you’re a part of some sort of mail service out of Mercy? Am I far? It’s been quite the trip.”
Jed scrutinized Russell
again before answering. “You’re a long way from home, Mr. Rogers, but you’ve got nearly a hundred more miles to go.”
Shoulders sagging, Russell squinted up at the setting sun. “Well, I might get another ten miles or so in before I have to stop for the night.”
“You’re not getting another ten miles in by nightfall,” Jed observed.
“Oh! No, I have a bike. When I heard you coming, I dumped it back there in the trees.” Russell held his hands up. “I don’t have a gun, and aside from Tim’s death, I’ve been attacked several more times so I’m always cautious.”
Jed nodded approvingly. “You may as well know that there’s a roadblock a few miles outside of town. The sheriff and his deputies have a pretty tight lid on the only way in and out of Mercy.”
“Makes sense,” Russell said. “I hope they’ll at least let me get a message to Tim’s parents.”
“Drop my name,” Jed offered, surprising Russell. “Tell ’em I’ll vouch for ya. You’ll be kept in quarantine for a day before they let you talk with anyone.”
“Quarantine?” It was the first Russell had heard of any sort of illnesses worthy of isolation.
“Had more than a dozen folks die from something resembling cholera,” Jess said with a shake of his head. “I had to leave before the funeral, though our pastor is so ancient he likely forgot their names.”
Russell carefully mulled over the new information. “Was it under control when you left?”
“Seemed to be,” Jed said. “Brought in by some residents who’d made their way back from Helena. Figure they picked it up by sharing some water with a group of strangers on the road the night before they got home. Hits ya in hours, and most were dead in a day or less.”
Russell whistled. “Frankly, I find that rather terrifying.”