The Expedition

by Chris Babu

  “We have our weapons,” Eugene said.

  Charlie made a gagging sound. “Is it just me, or now that we have no water is everyone else insanely thirsty?”

  Drayden walked alone up front, focusing on the immediate task of locating Route 3a to distract himself from the sudden thirst Charlie highlighted. He stopped when the brush thinned a bit. It was noticeably clearer for fifteen yards before thickening again.

  He studied the landscape. “I think this is it. Route 3a.”

  “This?” Sidney said, raising her palm.

  Although the asphalt formerly covering the road was gone, the foliage was thinner and the trees shorter in both directions as far as the eye could see.

  It used to be a road. Drayden imagined in another twenty-five years no traces of Route 3a would remain at all. “Yup. At least we’ll be safe from the Guardians for a while.” He coughed, his throat aching. “They’ll stick to Route 3 for sure.”

  They turned left, heading north. Catrice walked up front alongside Eugene. “Eugene, are you surprised the Guardians attacked us?”

  “A little, yeah.” He dropped his rifle to low-ready. “I thought they might once we reached Boston if they were following. I didn’t think they would do it fifty miles away. I’m not convinced they were trying to kill us, though.”

  “Could’a fooled me, Euge,” Charlie said, walking beside Sidney in the back. “You know, that whole thing where they shot like a billion bullets at us and flung a grenade at your head.”

  “That’s just it,” Eugene said. “If they discovered where we were, why not sneak up on us while we slept and execute us, point blank? Even the grenade. You’re supposed to pull the pin and wait a second before you throw it, so you can’t do what I did. They knew I would toss it out. Consider how many bullets they shot, yet none hit us, and they’re superb shots.”

  “Why’d they do it then?” Sidney asked.

  “Our gear, I think. The food and water. They were probably starving. The flashlights, rope, all that stuff.”

  Drayden tugged on his left earlobe. “Let’s think. Stealing our food and water was logical. But why exactly did they leave us alive?”

  “Because they’re secretly good guys and didn’t want to kill five teenagers?” Catrice said with a hopeful tone.

  Eugene shook his head. “Nope. They’re ruthless. No feelings. If they intentionally left us alive, it was for a definite reason. The only reasonable explanation is they don’t know the way to Boston. They need to follow us.”

  It confirmed Drayden’s suspicions about the Guardians. They were bad dudes. While most Guardians were decent people, these three were not. “Hopefully we threw them a mini curveball sneaking over to Route 3a.”

  “I guess,” Eugene said, sounding unconvinced. “But eventually Captain Lindrick may know where they are. Sure, they left us alive this time because they need us right now. Next time we’ll be disposable. Their attack confirms it. We need to beat them to Boston without a doubt. They won’t let us reach Boston alive; I’m sure of it. If they reach it first, they’ll be waiting for us. They sure as hell won’t let us return to New America.”

  The group fell silent, digesting the implications of Eugene’s words.

  It was barely 10:00 AM, but the bright sun was raising the temperature by the minute. The salty, moist air meant they must have been near the ocean.

  “One of them has a shot foot,” Sidney said. “Hopefully that’ll slow them down a bit.”

  Drayden coughed again, this time hacking up more phlegm. He spat it out. “Yuck. Okay, so we have imminent needs. Let’s lay out what they are and prioritize. We have no food or water. Of those, water is way more critical. The sky is totally clear and it hasn’t rained in a few days, meaning no puddles and no water on the way.”

  “We’ll have to find a stream,” Catrice said.

  Drayden nodded. “Yup. But we’ll have to boil that water.”

  “Soooo, we also need a pot,” she said.

  “Exactly. Our first order of business is finding a pot of some sort. We need another town. Plymouth is coming up, according to the map. We can try rummaging through abandoned houses or an old store. Let’s keep a lookout for streams too.”

  “We need to get ahead of the Guardians, though,” Charlie said.

  “If only we could find a way to go faster,” Sidney said.

  “Yes, all those things,” Drayden said. “Of those, water is the most important. Then we’ll worry about getting ahead of the Guardians.” He remembered he planned to loop Charlie in about Eugene’s possible duplicity. He slowed until Charlie and Sidney caught up, then grabbed him by the arm and let her walk ahead.

  Charlie glanced down at Drayden’s hand on his arm. “Is this about how Catrice loves Eugene now? She loves him like a fat kid loves cake.”

  Drayden glared at him. “She doesn’t lov—never mind. No, something else.” He told Charlie about Eugene pretending to lift the tree, and noted he failed to shoot any Guardians even though the kid never missed.

  “So?” Charlie asked.

  “So? So? He might be working with the Guardians.”

  Charlie cringed. “Dray, I think you’re letting your jealousy get the better of you. He’s a smooth-talking, movie-star-looking, strong, tough, smart guy who stole your girlfriend. Without even trying. But listen, that tree weighed like eighty kajillion pounds. He probably went through the motions, knowing it was impossible, because you asked him to give it a shot. When we got attacked he was like Rambo. You remember when the Bureau played the movie Rambo in Madison Square Park? Rambo defeated all of Russia and Vietnam by himself. Eugene was like that, except it was real. Kid fired two guns in different directions while totally exposed, standing up. His balls are bigger than—”

  “I got it. I got it.”

  “All I’m saying is the Guardians were dug in, behind trees, that’s why he didn’t hit them. Those guys aren’t rookies. And don’t forget: Eugene has saved your life like fifty times.”

  Charlie was probably right. “I know he has. Just remember what I said, and keep your eyes on him. We stick together.”

  “We’ll stick together like fat, sweaty thighs, bro.” Charlie fist-bumped him.

  Drayden lingered behind as Charlie walked ahead. He observed Catrice and Eugene chatting up front.

  Something unexpected had happened during the attack. In her time of need, it was Eugene she’d called out for. Recalling the Initiation, when she’d almost fallen off the rock wall at the Times Square Station, Catrice had cried out for Drayden. It was one of the first signs she was into him. Although she had slept next to Drayden last night, that may have been out of routine. Inertia. Or, so she wouldn’t humiliate him. He hated how she made him feel inferior, like a flunk. Tears formed along with a lump in his throat. Why wasn’t he good enough anymore? What had he done wrong? Maybe she was trying to hurt him before he had a chance to hurt her. That was stupid, though, since he would never do that.

  Eugene’s strength and toughness did draw quite a contrast with his own. Drayden had been fighting to show Catrice that he could be strong and tough too. Why were those such valuable traits? The Guardians, and to a lesser extent Eugene, had warped their toughness into something ugly. They dialed the volume on it to the max until it morphed into brutality. It was in the way they treated survivors out here in the wild, and regarded other living creatures for that matter. That wasn’t toughness, it was barbarity.

  Drayden swallowed, wincing from his sore throat. He remembered the gummy sap in his pocket. You could treat a sore throat by chewing it, as the Native Americans used to do, according to Sam. He pulled out a chunk and tossed it in his mouth. It was utterly horrendous, both crumbly and tasting like chemicals. He continued to chew it anyway. If it cured his cold, it was worth it.

  Thinking about Sam triggered a stream of consciousness that meandered from Sam to Kim and her
plot, to Nathan Locke, and naturally to Wes and Dad. Drayden loathed the expedition and longed to go home. He wished he had never even entered the Initiation and still lived in the Dorms, oblivious to the problems in New America. He wanted someone else to deal with it.

  “Whoa, check this out!” Eugene called out.

  Old train tracks running alongside Route 3a appeared in the brush. Eugene veered over to walk on them and everyone followed. Besides some rotting and missing railroad ties, they were in surprisingly decent shape.

  “I’m not sure I like this,” Sidney said.

  Charlie chuckled. “Having serious Initiation flashbacks right now.”

  Drayden was as well. After that nightmare, he was sure he never needed to see train tracks again. At least they broke up the monotony of a four-day hike.

  When Route 3a became less overgrown and more commercial, with rundown businesses bordering it, the group switched over to the road. They’d arrived in Plymouth, passing Marylou’s Coffee, Luke’s Liquors, and a tiny white house called Kush-Kone.

  “How about we try in there for a pot?” Eugene was eyeing a wide brown building that resembled a barn.

  It was set back from the street at the far end of an expansive, overgrown parking lot. The busted sign read “Stop & Shop.”

  A cool breeze made the tall grass dance.

  Drayden liked the feel of the wispy grasses against him. He stretched his hand out, running it through the soft blades as he walked. The same greenery undulated on the roof of the Stop & Shop, as if it had sprouted a head of hair. He wondered when buildings would disappear, swallowed up by vegetation, reduced to dust, and blown away by the wind.

  They passed a trio of rusted out cars, brown shells on flat tires, the interiors covered in mold.

  “Think any cars out here still run?” Sidney asked.

  Charlie kicked one and a chunk fell off. “We’d be golden if we had a car.”

  Drayden made a mental note: find a car dealership. He’d considered it earlier and dismissed it, but it was worth a check now that their speed of travel was an issue. He eyeballed the Stop & Shop ahead, already debating how they would enter. What if it was loc—

  Something leapt in front of him. A large brown blur.

  Catrice screamed.

  Drayden jumped back and ducked.

  A deer bounded away, hopping with impressive speed through the dense lot.

  “Holy shkat.” His heart racing, he braced his hands on his knees for a moment.

  Charlie chortled. “Jeez. It’s like we’re in the Serengeti! That was awesome.”

  “Let’s keep moving,” Eugene said.

  With thirty yards to the store, Drayden resumed walking. The building’s glass doors were shattered, but intact. And closed. They were probably that automatic type containing motion sensors, which wouldn’t work anymore. He could try smashing through it. The separate metal door, adjacent to the glass doors, might be worth a shot too.

  Drayden turned his head back to the others. “What do you think, break our way in? Use our rifles?”

  “Let’s try that steel door first,” Catrice said.

  As Drayden contemplated the best way inside, his peripheral vision caught rapid movement to his right.

  Something furry and stinky slammed into him, knocking him to the ground.

  He cried out as he crashed down, holding his ribs from the surging internal pain. It felt like he got punched hard in the stomach.

  The silvery beast blew by him and spun around.

  Drayden scrambled back to his feet, nauseated from the stomach pain. He froze.

  A wolf. Or some sort of wolf-dog hybrid.

  Guns cocked behind Drayden.

  The wolf locked its icy, menacing eyes on him. Its bristly fur was patchy, its back hunched, and its ribcage bulging. The wolf emitted a low growl, curling its lips and baring its teeth. It was only feet away.

  There was virtually no defense against a wolf, save for a weapon, according to the scientists. You couldn’t outrun it, and it would consider you prey if you ran anyway. You couldn’t turn your back on it, or look it in the eyes. If a wolf pounced, it would likely eat you while you were alive, disemboweling you first. As a last resort, you could try to appear hulking and it might not attack.

  Rather than reach for his gun, Drayden raised his arms and widened his stance. He fixed his gaze on the ground. “Don’t shoot it unless it charges me,” he said in an authoritative voice. “I’m going to back away, slowly.” He inched backward.

  The snarl grew louder, nastier.

  Drayden took short, rapid breaths. He stepped back again.

  The wolf released an awful, guttural noise. It sprung at him.

  He raised his arms to protect his head.

  A gunshot.

  The bullet pierced the wolf right between the eyes. It collapsed to the ground, shaking and twitching.

  Eugene was still holding his rifle up, peering through the sight.

  Drayden’s focus drifted past Eugene and his jaw dropped. He couldn’t speak. He jabbed his finger in the air, pointing behind the other privates.

  They spun around and recoiled in horror.

  Six or seven other wolves bolted toward them.

  “Oh my God!” Sidney screamed.

  “Run! To the store!” Eugene yelled.

  Despite fear crippling Drayden for a moment, he forced his feet to move. The thick grass hindered him as he tried to sprint, like in a dream. Eugene ran up front, heading for the doors.

  “Try the gray door on the left!” Drayden shouted.

  “Move!” Charlie yelled from behind.

  Sidney flew past Drayden.

  The wolves would reach them in seconds.

  Even with guns, they might not be fast or accurate enough to shoot them all before being mauled to death. Drayden worried about Catrice, who was not a speedy runner. He deliberately slowed to stay near her.

  Charlie passed them.

  The ground rumbled, thunderous footsteps right on their heels.

  “Dray!” Eugene shrieked, his head turned back. He spun around, backpedaling, and fired his rifle in the air with a resounding boom.

  Drayden checked behind him.

  The gunshot bought them a second or two. The wolves had slowed momentarily before charging again.

  Eugene flung the metal door open. He waited outside, holding it. “Let’s go!”

  Sidney raced inside, followed by Charlie, Catrice, and Drayden. Eugene entered and slammed the door shut.

  Everyone doubled over, panting, dripping with sweat.

  The store was cool and dark, and smelled musty. The wolves growled and howled outside the door. One of them hustled along the front perimeter of the store.

  Drayden coughed in fits, watching it.

  Oh no. The main doors.

  “Eugene! The other doors. Make sure they can’t get in!”

  Eugene drew his Glock. “Charlie, get your gun out, dammit. You go that way,” he said, motioning right, “I’ll go this way. Check for holes or open doors!” Eugene jogged down the length of the store’s dusty front.

  Charlie went the other way. Drayden, Catrice, and Sidney lingered by the door with their weapons out, just in case.

  The wolves paced in front of the store, crying a high-pitched whine. They were emaciated, clearly starving.

  Drayden kicked himself for not considering the possibility of wolves in advance. Sam had warned them. Deer were prey. Where there was prey, there were predators.

  Eugene and Charlie returned at the same time. Breathing heavily, both lowered their guns. “Don’t see any way in,” Eugene said. “Those automatic glass doors are stuck shut and the glass is broken but still up. I think we’re safe.”

  “Good,” Drayden said. “You and Charlie guard the doors; keep an eye on the wolves.
Me, Catrice, and Sidney will scour the store.”

  Eugene saluted. “Roger that.”

  “C’mon, you guys,” Drayden said to Catrice and Sidney.

  They walked past a row of antique cash registers, and up and down the aisles in order. The store had been looted many times over. Not much remained other than dust, garbage, and empty plastic bottles. The shelves were mostly empty, but a few items popped up here and there. Unfortunately, nothing that would be of use. Toys for cats. Wrapping paper.

  “Anything we need a shower-curtain liner for?” Sidney asked.

  Drayden waved a hand through the air. “No idea.”

  She stuffed it into one of her pockets.

  They found a kids’ toy section, with a plastic bat and ball, as well as training wheels for a child’s bike.

  An idea popped into Drayden’s head. If they could find bikes, they could beat the Guardians to Boston easily. He made another mental note.

  Catrice was wringing her hands. “No pots.”

  Drayden stood on his tippy toes to ascertain the layout of the store. “I bet they have some storerooms in the back, like at the Food Distribution Centers back home. The Bureau built those in former grocery stores.”

  They navigated into the Seafood and Deli section. A door behind the counter led to a room resembling a warehouse, with empty crates and boxes scattered around. On one side of the room was a kitchen of sorts, featuring stainless steel counters and a wide sink. Beside the sink sat a colander, a nutcracker, and balled up aluminum foil. And a metal bowl.

  Drayden picked up the bowl and examined it.

  It was a little rusty, and had no handle, but it might work.

  “I think that’s the best we’re gonna do,” Sidney said.

  Catrice hooked her thumb back toward the doors. “There were some empty water bottles laying around the store. We should grab those. Otherwise, we have nowhere to store the water we boil.”

  “Yeah, good idea,” Drayden said.