The Expedition

by Chris Babu

  Route 3a crossed Route 3 via an overpass. Dripping sweat, they stopped before it and hopped off their bikes. Charlie was gasping for air.

  Drayden couldn’t stop coughing. After the exertion of riding, he was short of breath and his head pounded. He ducked down, crawled onto the overpass, and rose to his knees to peer down onto Route 3, half expecting the Guardians to be waiting there with ready weapons.

  It was deserted, save for a few broken-down cars. Route 3 was a much larger road, a highway, with two-lanes in each direction. The roadway was in far superior condition to Route 3a.

  Drayden lumbered to his feet and the others joined him.

  “Look!” Sidney pointed south. “A windmill.”

  An inactive wind turbine, similar to New America’s, towered in the distance.

  “Maybe we should collect the battery,” Catrice said.

  “Wow, great idea,” Eugene said.

  It was a great idea. An ingenious idea. If Boston didn’t pan out, they could seek out a windmill farm and harvest the batteries. Batteries wore out from constant charging and discharging, like those in New America. Wind turbines also needed maintenance from dirt or rust; otherwise, the blades would stop spinning, as this one had. Although these batteries would have no charge, they would still be viable. The privates lacked a way to transport heavy deep-cycle batteries, but they could come up with something.

  “That’s brilliant, Catrice,” Drayden said. “Let’s remember this intersection, in case Boston turns out to be empty. Worst case we won’t show up to New America empty handed.” He may have found their bargaining chip for the return home.

  Charlie doubled over. “We have to find food. I don’t think I can go on much longer.”

  “Dray, how far is it to Boston?” Eugene asked.

  “Around thirty-five miles. Thirty to the outskirts.”

  Eugene rested his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “We can make it today, bud, in a few hours if we’re lucky. Hopefully they’ll feed us there. We can do it without stopping.”

  “You’re forgetting something,” Sidney said. “The Guardians. We’ll have to deal with them sooner or later. It’s not exactly a straight shot to Boston.”

  A chill ran down Drayden’s spine. He didn’t want to face them.

  “Let’s make a stand here.” Eugene fanned his arm out across the overpass.

  “We don’t know if they’ve passed here already,” Drayden said.

  Through his rifle’s scope, Eugene scanned Route 3 below. “One of them was shot in the foot; they’re moving slower than us. If they are ahead, it can’t be by much. We could wait here for a while. With the bikes, we’ll catch up to them easily.” Eugene stepped further out on the overpass. “This is the perfect place to ambush them. Elevated positioning. Plenty of time to set up, we’ll see them coming from a half mile away. Me, Charlie, and Sid can take them out with three bullets.”

  Drayden didn’t want to kill the Guardians. Even though they would kill him, that didn’t make it right. Killing was wrong, whether someone would do it to you or not. He didn’t need to stoop down to their level of brutality and depravity.

  Plus, the Guardians were battle-trained and tested. Eugene might have been as well, but the rest of the privates weren’t. Something would go wrong and they’d wind up in a dogfight with superior fighters. Drayden was not scared of them. It simply wasn’t logical to go head-to-head with meaner, more experienced dudes. With the bikes, they could beat the Guardians to Boston and never have to face them.

  “I’m not trying to pull rank here,” said Drayden. “I just think we’re best served by riding like crazy and beating the Guardians to Boston. We don’t have to kill them.”

  Eugene twirled his pistol. “Kill or be killed.”

  “Life is too precious to kill indiscriminately,” Drayden countered.

  “Even if it’s in our best interest,” Catrice added softly.

  Eugene appeared on the verge of calling them pansies. “Fine. You guys are in charge. We’ll follow your lead.”

  Drayden raised a finger. “Don’t forget, we have a secret weapon against the Guardians.” He faced Charlie. “If they see that, they won’t be able to shoot, they’ll be laughing too hard.”

  Everyone snickered.

  “It’s not funny,” Charlie harrumphed.

  “I think we’re in Norwell, Massachusetts, so this must be Wildcat Creek.” Drayden stood over his bike, consulting the map in the middle of Route 3. “We’ve gone about fifteen miles. Twenty miles and we’ll be in Boston.”

  Charlie huffed and puffed. “Please…tell me we’re resting.”

  Drayden hacked up a glob of mucus and spat it out. “Yeah, let’s take a break, boil this water, and refill the bottles in the creek.”

  Eugene quickly looked both ways. “Let’s get off the road.”

  What began as a warm, sunny day had transitioned by early afternoon to overcast and cool. While everyone else wheeled their bikes to the metal railing along the side of the highway, Charlie picked his up with one hand and carried it. After depositing their bikes a few feet into the brush, they walked through the thick forest to the edge of Wildcat Creek.

  “Please let there be fish,” Sidney said.

  It was narrow and shallow. “Doesn’t look like there are,” Drayden said.

  Eugene set his rifle on the leafy forest floor. “Dray, I’m going to shoot the next deer I see.”

  Drayden rubbed his temples. They were starving, in food-desperation mode. Eugene wasn’t being unreasonable, and it was clear he wasn’t asking for permission. “I hear you.”

  Besides the food situation, everything else was shaping up. They’d drunk two bottles of water each and were about to drink two more. They’d restock before leaving. Most importantly they were, without a doubt, ahead of the Guardians. The fact that they hadn’t passed them meant they must be ahead of them. Not only that, they had gained a nearly insurmountable lead. If they were already ahead of the Guardians at the intersection of Routes 3 and 3a, they were way ahead now. With the short distance between Norwell and Boston, there was virtually no way they could lose, even if they had to walk the rest of the way.

  Sidney touched Drayden’s shoulder. “Hey, I put some leaves and sticks together for the fire.”

  “Thanks, Sid. Can you guys find sticks for our water boiling rods?”

  “Sure.”

  Drayden pulled out the paperclip and battery, anxiously awaiting the moment it would stop working.

  Thankfully it lit. The yellow flames engulfed the pile of wood. After Sidney returned with a pile of long sticks, everyone pulled off both boots to construct the rods.

  Catrice raised her hands above the fire. “I think it needs to get a little hotter. We should wait a few minutes.”

  Everybody had removed their socks too and stood barefoot on the cool soil.

  Eugene unbuttoned and took off his gray camo shirt. “We should wash up in the river.”

  Drayden found it impossible not to stare at Eugene, and the others apparently agreed.

  He also removed his T-shirt, revealing a cut chest and chiseled abs. After rolling up his pant legs he strolled to the creek. Charlie happily lost his shirt to show off and joined Eugene. The girls rolled up their sleeves and pant legs before bounding over to the water.

  Drayden held the top button of his shirt, as if he’d frozen in the middle of getting undressed. Back in the Initiation, Tim and Alex were around. They were two normal, average boys, as opposed to Eugene and Charlie, who were both built like Hercules. Drayden was so skinny he could have been a different species. Maybe he’d take his shirt off later. He wandered off, away from the creek, to relieve himself. Having to pee again was a fantastic sign after not going for a full day. He was finally rehydrating. After he finished, he walked gingerly through the brush back toward the creek, as sharp pebbles and sticks i
n the soil dug into his soles. When the crew came into view, he stopped in his tracks.

  Charlie and Sidney washed and splashed in the creek, joking around. Catrice and Eugene stood side-by-side at the top of the shallow bank, facing away from him. Eugene was still shirtless, showing off his hulking back. They were huddled close together. Too close.

  The heat rose in Drayden’s face. He wasn’t imagining anything.

  Then Catrice rested her head on Eugene’s shoulder.

  Drayden clenched his jaw. Such a simple gesture, yet so huge. So meaningful. How could she? And why, dammit? He spun around before anyone saw him and stormed back into the woods, whacking branches out of the way.

  His chest expanded and contracted erratically. Sniffling, the tears came. But he stopped himself.

  No.

  If he wasn’t good enough for Catrice anymore, so be it. That was her problem, not his. He needed to accept who he was. He was not a strong, tough guy and never would be. He was smart and caring. He needed to stop trying to be something he was not. You are who you are and you can never be anyone else. If Catrice preferred to be with the fish-head-smashing Adonis, that was her prerogative. He wasn’t going to change to be more like someone else. Smart was better than strong anyway. “Smart > Strong” he pictured in his dorky math head. One day someone else would love him exactly the way he was. That someone might even be on the expedition with him.

  He wiped his cheeks with his shirt and forced a smile, trying to expunge the evidence of his crying. He marched back to the group and headed straight for the creek to splash water on his face.

  Catrice dangled her hands over the fire, watching him the whole way with a concerned expression.

  Drayden refused her eye contact.

  The others knelt by the creek, building the water-boiling rods.

  “Hey, Dray,” Sidney said, giggling, “guess wha—” She frowned when she saw him. She tiptoed over, crouching next to him while he washed up. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

  A lump formed in Drayden’s throat, so he repeated Charlie’s words in his head: You do you. He shook his head. “It’s…it’s nothing. I’ll tell you later.”

  She made a face. “Catrice?”

  Drayden raised his eyes to hers.

  “Why do you let her hurt you like this? I don’t get it, Dray. Sorry. She has a brain, yes, but she has no heart.”

  To the naked eye, Catrice appeared cold. She did have a heart, though, a warm one. It was terribly wounded, surrounded by stone walls. She’d been sensitive and caring in private. Unfortunately, her heart seemed to belong to someone else now.

  Drayden touched Sidney’s knee. “Thanks, Sid.”

  Charlie lugged a bunch of sticks with cap-less bottles dangling from them. “Let’s do this,” he said as he passed by.

  He had uttered Tim’s line. It was what he had said at the start of most of the challenges in the Initiation. Let’s do this. That Charlie phrased it that way didn’t go unnoticed by Drayden.

  Charlie winked at him.

  It was a little “I got your back,” from Charlie. Apparently, everyone could tell something was wrong.

  Charlie and Eugene passed out two rods to each of them. The group suspended the bottles inches above the low flames, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the world.

  The awkwardness between Drayden and Catrice had officially affected everybody, now eyeing one another in uncomfortable silence.

  Although Catrice was staring at him, he still wouldn’t look at her, or Eugene.

  When the water boiled, they cooled the bottles in the creek and drank two each, except for Catrice, who couldn’t consume that much. They repeated the whole process once more so they’d have drinkable water for the road.

  “All right, good break, team,” Charlie cracked. “Creating lasting memories in Norwood, Massachusetts.”

  “Norwell,” Drayden said.

  Sidney rested her hand on her forehead. “You guys, I don’t know if I can ride any further without eating.”

  “I’ll second that,” Charlie said.

  “I hear you, but we don’t have any food,” Drayden said. “Everyone keep their eyes peeled for a lake, a river, or an encampment. Watch for smoke.”

  Eugene hooked his thumb toward the highway. “Let’s move out.”

  They returned to their bikes hidden in the brush.

  “Where the hell did I put mine?” Charlie asked.

  “Have you tried your pocket?” Drayden joked.

  “Ha ha, very funny. Here it is.”

  Catrice gripped Drayden’s arm before they headed up to the road. “Drayden.”

  He shook her hand off, ignoring her.

  Eugene stopped as soon as he exited the forest and held up his hand. “Get down!” He hustled back into the woods and ducked down with the privates.

  A buzzing sound. A humming, growing louder and higher in pitch.

  Cars. Approaching them.

  “Don’t move,” Eugene whispered.

  Drayden struggled to control his breathing.

  Three vehicles appeared in the distance, traveling north like the privates. A motorcycle, a truck with no roof in the back, and a car. They looked rebuilt from spare parts of many cars, colored like dull rainbows.

  The loud vehicles thundered past, with two men on the motorcycle, a few in the car, and several in the uncovered back of the truck. Everyone looked dirty, unkempt, and seemingly dangerous. Most were brandishing guns or knives.

  One guy in particular, riding in the bed of the truck, caught Drayden’s attention. Unlike the rest of the gang, he had short hair, and wore his beard trimmed into a goatee. His face was angular, his eyes light and cold. Something about the way he carried himself indicated he was the leader. But what he held stopped Drayden’s heart.

  He was waving the Bureau flag in the air.

  CHAPTER 25

  Despite the light rain, a plume of smoke rose a short distance into the woods off Route 3.

  They’d only ridden a mile or two, having waited a while to ensure the scary dudes in cars were long gone. Seeing them answered some questions. For one, working cars did, in fact, exist out here.

  Yet it raised many questions as well, like, who was this mean-looking gang? And why were they carrying the Bureau flag?

  Nobody could agree on the flag issue. The privates’ backpacks, which belonged to the Guardians now, carried Bureau flags for their return to New America. Most likely the flag came from the Guardians. Did that imply they’d killed the Guardians and the flag was a trophy? Had the Guardians given it to them? Neither of those seemed plausible. Hell, was the Bureau outsourcing work to gangs outside New America?

  Drayden kept revisiting what Kim had said, that the Bureau controlled the information. He latched onto that nugget and extrapolated it from there. The citizens could only know what the Bureau told them. Presumably, they weren’t told everything. Possibly, the Bureau told horrible lies.

  A narrow path, worn from frequent use, led into the woods toward the smoke.

  Sidney pressed her hands together as if she were praying. “Please, can we go see if they have any food?”

  Drayden was starving too. It impacted his physical ability, rendering him weak and tired. His cold had also worsened, and he could tell he was running a slight fever now.

  “Guys, c’mon,” Eugene said, apparently disappointed in an average person’s weakness. “Twenty miles and we’re done. Even with the rocky terrain, and well, Charlie’s bike, we can be there in two hours. Let’s go for it.”

  Eugene probably didn’t need food to operate, running on batteries instead.

  “I think Sid’s right,” Drayden said. “We should try and get food. We’re way ahead of the Guardians, so we can spare the time. Besides, Boston is an unknown. It could be deserted. It could be hostile. They could quarantine
us for a stretch. There’s no reason to expect food awaits us in Boston.”

  Eugene sighed. “Okay, boss.”

  They lugged their bikes over the metal highway barrier and left them at the beginning of the dirt path. Under the cover of forest, they walked down the path, stopping once the fire was visible.

  The woods gave way to a clearing packed with dozens of shacks. The primitive structures were constructed of mismatched wood, cardboard, and aluminum. Like the path, the ground was muddy, without grass, indicating heavy foot traffic. It was like a little shanty village.

  At first blush, no people were in sight. Then a woman holding a young boy’s hand emerged from the other side of the fire.

  “Listen up,” Eugene said, speaking directly to Drayden. “We need mission discipline here. Our goal is to score food and get out. We still need to make it to Boston before the Guardians. Agreed?”

  Drayden tilted his head. “What are you suggesting, Eugene? We go in, what did you guys call it, heavy?”

  Eugene nodded. “Not just heavy, though. No chit chat. We go in, take what we need, and leave.”

  “You mean steal it,” Catrice said.

  “Call it what you want,” Eugene said, clearly annoyed. “We have a lot at stake here. It’s one meal; they won’t miss it, and we’ll never see these people again. I know you guys are humanitarians and all, but this isn’t the time for a touchy-feely mission.”

  Drayden pictured Catrice’s head on Eugene’s shoulder. Here was a chance to show her that he too could be strong and protect her the way Eugene could. If he could win her back, they could be happy again like they were after the Initiation. On top of it, if they could secure that food and escape, this mission was over. They would beat the Guardians. Done deal.