Blackout (Book 2)

by Clarke, Alexandria

  “Don’t touch her,” Dad warned him.

  “Perhaps you have misunderstood our intention,” Marco continued as if he hadn’t heard him. “We are not here to harm you. We are here to help you. Once we perform the togetherness ritual, you will be free to go about your business here as you see fit. You will have access to our food and clothing stores and a warm bed to sleep in. You will be a part of our family.”

  “We don’t want to be a part of your damn family,” Dad said.

  “Wait a second,” I cut in. “If we participate in this ritual, then we can do whatever we want?”

  “As long as it benefits the Legacies,” Marco said. “But yes. This isn’t a prison. You are a free member of society.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’m in.”

  “George!” Dad threw me a shocked look. “What are you doing?”

  “You heard him,” I replied. “We’re safe here. We would be provided for. Come on, Dad. Warm food, a bed to sleep in at night. Sounds pretty good, right? We didn’t have any of that out there in the woods.”

  Dad finally caught on to my scheme. It would be easier to hatch an escape plan from the Legacies’ hideout once they trusted that we were a part of their group. Otherwise, they would be anticipating our rebellion. Dad gave me a slight nod.

  “You have a point,” he said, for Marco’s benefit rather than mine. “It would be nice to stay warm for a while.”

  “See?” Marco smiled widely, displaying straight, white teeth that would make any post-apocalyptic dentist proud. “You’re already beginning to understand what the Legacies do for one another. Shall we perform the ritual?”

  “Er, what exactly does this ritual entail? Not that I’m necessarily against it,” I added hastily at the look on Marco’s face. “It’s just that I’m a little hesitant to perform blood bonds or something like that, what with the state of the world at the moment. You understand, right?”

  Marco’s chuckle echoed through the church. “My dear girl, you continue to think us barbaric. The ritual is more of a welcoming ceremony. It’s a simple linking of the hands, and once you complete our circle with us, then you are a Legacy yourself. No blood bonds required.”

  “Oh, thank goodness.”

  “Are you quite ready then?”

  Caroline and Max took the stage again to help us out of the chairs and down the stage steps. The other members of the Legacies spread out, forming a loose circle. Marco stood to our left, Caroline and Max to our right.

  “Let us join hands to welcome Georgie and Amos Fitz to the Legacies,” Marco announced, and he extended his right hand across his body to grasp the left hand of the member next to him. One by one, the Legacies linked themselves together, working their way around the circle toward us. Max reached for Caroline’s hand, Caroline reached for Dad, and Dad reached for mine. Once Dad and I were connected, Marco offered his free hand to me. His palm was smooth and cool. When I took it, he loaned me what he might have thought was a warm smile, but his brilliant teeth made the expression look more lethal than welcoming.

  “We are one,” he said to the crowd.

  “We are the Legacies,” everyone replied.

  Then, hands still linked, everyone lifted their arms and flipped around to face the outside of the circle. Once everybody’s arms were uncrossed, we were permitted to drop each other’s hands and roam free of the group.

  “Congratulations,” Marco said to us, patting first Dad then me on the back. “We’re happy to have you here. If you like, Caroline would be happy to take you on a tour of our home. She can also find you extra sweaters if you like. It gets quite drafty in here.”

  As he drifted away to talk to the other Legacies, Dad leaned in and muttered in my ear, “Now what? We’re no closer to finding Sylvester.”

  “Now we take the tour,” I whispered back, “and figure out what the best way is to get the hell out of here.”

  Caroline approached us with a smile. “You ready for the tour?”

  Dad pasted on a similar expression. “As we’ll ever be.”

  The church was a large cathedral, complete with rectory and attached school. The Legacies only used bits and pieces of it for themselves. The place had room for several more people to move in. Each member of the group had a choice between their own bedroom and bunking in the group dormitory that was once meant for teenagers on religious retreats. Dad and I chose to stay in the rooms that we were assigned in, since the main hallway had an exit door at the end of it. Like Camp Haven, the church had been broken up according to usage. Caroline showed us the kitchen, where a few of the Legacies prepared lunch for the group, the community center, where several others played games or read books to keep themselves busy, and the storage rooms, where we picked new sweaters to replace the ones that we had ruined during our hike in the woods. Thankfully, my tactical jacket was still intact.

  “Can I ask where you put our weapons?” I said to Caroline. “Those are incredibly important to us.”

  “You won’t need them here,” she replied. “We don’t allow weapons on the premises. We have a no-violence policy.”

  “Unfortunately, policies don’t always keep violence from happening,” Dad chimed in. “I’d feel a lot safer with my crossbow in hand.”

  “Guns make people nervous,” Caroline replied. “And you are safe here. Once you get to know the others, you’ll realize that we’re all just trying to protect one another.” We arrived back at our rooms. “Do you have any other questions for me?”

  “Nope,” I said. “Thanks for the tour, Caroline.”

  She checked her watch. “Lunch will be served in the community center in a few minutes. You’re welcome to eat there or pick up your food and eat elsewhere. See you then.”

  “Thanks,” Dad added.

  As soon as she turned the corner toward the community center, I faced my father. “All right, let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “What about my crossbow?” he asked as I ushered him toward the exit door at the end of the corridor. “It’s not like those things are just lying around. We can’t go out there unarmed.”

  “I recognize this church,” I told him. “It’s toward the edge of the city, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s a sporting goods store around the corner.”

  “That place will be completely cleaned out, you know that.”

  I peeked in the window of each door as we passed it, hoping that we might happen upon wherever the Legacies hid the rest of our things. “Do you want to find Sylvester or not? We have to get out of here as soon as possible. That means sacrificing our weapons. All we have to do is make it out of the city alive. Then we can go back up to Camp Haven and raid the stockroom there. I’m sure we can find a few leftover rifles.”

  “If Base One didn’t raid the weapon stash too,” Dad said.

  The exit door was only a few paces away. “Guess we’re taking our chances—whoa!”

  Dad grabbed the back of my jacket and yanked me away from the door that I’d just pushed open. I caught my breath and took another look at the outside, wondering if I’d been seeing things correctly. Sure enough, there was a massive pit, at least ten feet deep, directly beyond the doorstep. At the bottom, jagged pipes and debris promised a painful landing. If Dad hadn’t pulled me back, I would have strolled right into the hole.

  “That’s not intentional, right?” I said, trying to slow my panicked breathing. “I mean, it probably happened because of the EMP, don’t you think?”

  “EMPs don’t cause big holes to open up in the ground,” Dad said. “This was definitely intentional. No wonder all of the Legacies are so buddy-buddy. They don’t have an option. Marco Coats has trapped them here.”

  Chapter Five

  I spent the rest of the day checking every exit in the building. It was a difficult feat, trying to avoid the Legacies who freely roamed the church, but I managed to make it to each door by dinner time. Every single one of them was inaccessible. Either they were boarded up or there was some kind of booby trap on
the opposite side. Rationally, I knew that this might be the Legacies’ way of protecting the church from potential threats, but what with the cult mindset that Marco inspired, I was more inclined to believe Dad’s point of view. Marco Coats was trying to keep the Legacies from getting out.

  I skipped lunch, but when dinner rolled around, I figured it was best to keep myself fed. Not to mention, I was curious to see what kind of meals that the Legacies came up with. Back at Camp Haven, we spent months gathering wild game and other food sources to make sure that we were prepared for winter. Were the Legacies on par with Camp Haven’s talents?

  In the community center, I joined the short line of people waiting to be served and looked out at the tables. Dad was already working on making friends. He sat at a table with a few Legacies that were closer to his own age, looking quite at home as he scooped soup from his bowl. This was our plan now, to blend in as best as we could in order to get information from the people around us. I just didn’t expect Dad to be the one to pull it off so quickly. He had suffered from agoraphobia for half of my life, but if he was a stranger to me, I never would have known. He chatted lightheartedly with the others. The only evidence of his discomfort was the way he rapidly tapped the heel of one boot beneath the table, restlessly jiggling his leg up and down.

  The food was canned. I could tell by the mushy texture of the noodles in the soup, as well as the dull color of the green beans. The Legacies weren’t quite like Camp Haven then. They got their food from somewhere else, which meant that they would eventually run out of it.

  With my tray in hand, I looked around the community center for a place to sit. Half of me wanted to join my father at his table, but I knew I wouldn’t fit in with older crowd of Legacies. I spotted Caroline sitting on her own at a table in the corner, her face buried in a book. I headed toward her.

  “Mind if I sit here?” I asked.

  She glanced up. “Not at all.”

  I pulled out the chair opposite her and got comfortable. She immediately returned to her book, brow furrowed in concentration. “What are you reading?”

  She lifted the book so that I could read the title. It was Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut.

  “That’s seems appropriate,” I said. “Isn’t that book about a made-up religion and the end of the world?”

  Her eyes lifted from the page. “The Legacies haven’t made up their own religion.”

  “You guys made camp in a church.”

  Caroline sighed, bent the corner of her page to mark it, and closed the book. “Look, I know this place seems weird, okay? I thought the exact same thing when they brought me in, but in my opinion, it’s better to be alive and weird than normal and dead. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  I lifted a spoonful of soup like a toast to her words. “I guess you have a point. How long have you been a part of the Legacies?”

  “About a month,” she replied. “I was nearly dying of hypothermia a few blocks from here. If it weren’t for them, I would have been just another body on the street.”

  “So do you believe in all of this stuff?” I asked her, blowing cool air across the surface of the soup. “Do you really think that the Legacies were chosen by some higher power to repopulate the earth?”

  She made a face. “I have no urge to help repopulate the earth with any of the people here, but I’m happy to go along with whatever Marco believes if it means I get food to eat and a warm, safe space to sleep at night.”

  “So you don’t believe it?”

  Caroline looked around to make sure that no one else was within earshot. “No one says this out loud, but most of us don’t buy into all that chosen ones stuff. Some do—the older folks mostly—but I think that’s because it’s easier to have something to believe in at the end of the world rather than constantly reminding yourself that nothing really matters. If I have to call myself a Legacy and participate in silly group meetings to earn my place here, then I’m okay with that.”

  “That’s a relief,” I said. “I’m glad someone here had the same idea that I did. My dad and I have been living in the mountains ever since the EMP hit, but our camp got trashed and we ran out of supplies.”

  “So you came into the city to look for more?”

  “Not exactly.” I let the noodles on my spoon splash back into the bowl and fished out a piece of chicken instead. “Hey, I couldn’t help but notice that all the exits are blocked off here. What’s up with that?”

  “Marco says it’s to protect us from people trying to get in from outside.” She broke a piece of cornbread in half and offered it to me. “Here, eat this. It’s more appetizing than the soup.”

  “Thanks. Do you believe Marco?”

  “To a point,” she replied. “Honestly, I have no desire to go outside—there’s a protected courtyard here if I want to get some sun—so it doesn’t bother me much. Besides, I don’t see a reason why Marco would want to keep us in here.”

  “Maybe he likes feeling powerful,” I suggested.

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  “So if no one goes outside the church, where does this food come from?” I tried a bite of the cornbread. As promised, it was much easier to stomach than the bland, sodium-laden soup.

  “Some of it was already here in the church’s cache,” she replied. “I guess the rest of it comes from outside.”

  “So between foraging for expired cans of food and looking for other survivors to add to your number, there are certain members of the Legacies that are allowed outside?” I asked, pretending to be absorbed in the chemical makeup of my cornbread. “How exactly do they make it in and out of the church without jumping into one of those pits that Marco’s dug outside every door?”

  Caroline picked up her book again and hid behind it. “I don’t really know. I don’t ask questions. I just live here.”

  I licked my spoon clean and used it to lower the book a few inches so that I could see Carolina clearly again. “That was a lie.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’m good at reading people.” I leaned across the table and lowered my voice. “Listen, Caroline. You seem like you have a decent head on your shoulders. Can I share something personal with you?”

  She perched the book on the edge of her lunch tray, still angled so it looked like she was reading it, and nodded.

  “When I said that my dad and I have been living in the mountains, I meant that we were staying at a self-sustaining compound home to about a hundred other people,” I told her. “A few days ago, a rival camp stormed the place. Most of my friends are dead, and the others are missing. We followed a trail to Denver, hoping to locate one of them, but the Legacies took us before we could find him. He’s a sixteen-year-old boy by the name of Sylvester. Have you seen or heard of him?”

  She shook her head. “I usually keep to myself. I only helped bring you in because there aren’t a lot of women here my age. If they brought a kid in, I haven’t seen him.”

  “I just find it suspicious that the trail we were following ended right where the Legacies set up an overhead trap,” I said, leaning back in my chair with a sigh. “Any thoughts on that? If the Legacies are so altruistic, why are they setting snares to collect more people?”

  “How do you figure it was the Legacies?” she asked. “Someone else probably set that trap, and the Legacies saved you from it.”

  “Their heroic appearance was a little too coincidental for me,” I replied. “Can you be straight with me? How do the Legacies get in and out of the building?”

  Caroline fixed me with a hard stare. “I can’t mess up here. Marco isn’t all hugs and kisses. I’ve seen him kick people out of the church before for not adhering to the Legacies’ standards.”

  “I won’t tell a soul that you helped me,” I promised.

  “You swear?”

  “I swear.”

  “Fine.” She closed her book. “There’s a group of Marco’s closest friends that go out at night. My guess is they scour the city for extra food and supplies. T
hey’re damn good at it too. So far, we haven’t run out of anything. From what I’ve witnessed, the exit is on the second floor of the rectory.”

  “The second floor?”

  She shrugged and polished off the rest of her cornbread in one bite. “My room is on the first floor. I hear them go up there, and then it’s just silence until they come back. A second floor exit is the only thing that would explain it.”

  “Where’s your room?”

  “On the east side of the building,” she replied. “The main staircase is blocked off though. Marco tells everyone that the wood steps are rotting.”

  “So there’s another way up then?” I pressed.

  “Yeah,” she replied. “But you’re not going to like where it is.”

  “Try me.”

  “It’s just a guess,” she said, “but I think they go up through the bell tower, the entrance of which is next door to Marco’s bedroom.”

  Of course. The bell tower was situated in the worst place for sneakiness. I’d noticed the entrance near the back of the church during the welcoming ceremony, but hadn’t thought much of it.

  “I don’t suppose Marco joins the other Legacies outside for their evening jaunts?” I asked.

  “Nope. He waits for them to get back.”

  “Great,” I muttered. “So I’ll have to distract Marco somehow, follow his team up into the bell tower, get out of the church without being noticed—”

  Caroline put her fingers in her ears. “Can you stop? I don’t want to know how you plan to break the most basic of the Legacies’ rules. That way, if they question me about it, I can honestly say I have no idea.”

  I put the last quarter of my cornbread on her tray before standing up with my own. “You’ve earned that back. Thanks for the tips.”

  I scraped my dishes clean and stacked the lunch tray on top of the others near the trash can. Then I passed by the table where my father sat, where he and his new friends guffawed over one joke or another.

  “George!” he said, clapping me on the back. “I want you to meet some of these fine folks. This is Jeffrey, Bing, and—wait for it—his name is George too!”