Silence fell on the living room and Solly watched the children waiting in the hall as, one by one, they filed in. It touched his heart to witness such innocence in a broken world. What future did they have? Only what he and his generation could contrive to build out of the ashes. And even then, what of this second apocalypse that Khaled and Jeremiah had spoken of? Was all this struggling just a waste of time? Would they strive to get themselves back on their feet only to be struck down again?
"Penny for your thoughts?"
Solly had forgotten she was there. The old lady from the library had recovered enough to take the armchair in the corner that Arnold usually occupied. Her name was Agatha, though she liked the children to call her Miss Prism, and Janice had suggested she start teaching them after the holidays, if she chose to stay.
"I don't know," Solly said. "This seems so surreal, given what's happened."
She smiled and pointed at the hallway where the first of the children were sitting on the carpeted floor and opening their gifts. "They're lucky, especially the young ones. They know little of the past and nothing of the future. They miss their families, but here they have found a new one. It is quite an achievement, Mr. Masters. You should be proud."
"That's Janice and Arnold's doing," Solly said as he watched a young girl rip the wrapping paper from a box and squeal with delight as she pulled out a doll.
"You can't plant on shaky foundations. You have given them the security they need to build something wonderful here."
Solly leaned back into the couch and sighed. "Maybe, but not on my own."
"And now you're thinking you have to leave us," Agatha said.
"I'm torn in two," Solly responded, rubbing his eyes. "I feel as though I'm needed here and yet I do believe that I have a job to do that will take me away from here. And I still have to find my family."
Another squeal from the hallway. "May I give you a piece of advice? Call the adults together and have them help make the decision. But, for now, enjoy watching the children. Your gift to yourself can be to forget everything for a few hours."
The council of war met on the following day. All the community's adults sat around the kitchen table, along with Ross and Jaxon who'd, by virtue of their conduct in recent days, have been given a field promotion to senior status.
The atlas lay on the table open at a double page showing the entire North American continent. Awalnut sat over their current position and a brazil nut indicated roughly where Arbroath was on the northwestern coast. Even at this scale, it was obviously a vast distance. It looked hopeless.
After Solly had explained all that he knew about the cylinder, Janice reached out for his hand. "It seems to me that whatever the truth of that thing is, it can't stay here. Somehow Jeremiah was tracked by Lee Corp and that means they know, at the very least, that it was last located a couple of miles away."
"I don't understand why we assume they'll take it by force," Arnold said. "Couldn't we just offer it to them?"
Solly shook his head. "Jeremiah wasn't given the option. And you didn't see them in New York—they're paramilitaries and I don't want them anywhere near here."
"So, the cylinder has to leave here. But how can you get it away without having them come down on you immediately you take it out of the safe?" Janice asked.
"That's simple enough. I don't take it out of the safe. We've got a pickup outside that we need to get rid of, and I reckon we can get the safe into the back of it between us. Once I'm far enough away, I'll get it out and lay a false trail."
Arnold took a sip of his coffee and winced. "The question, then, is which direction to go in. Texas or Washington State."
"Why would he want to go to Texas?" Agatha asked.
Janice squeezed Solly's hand. "It's where his family lives."
"They're alive?"
"I don't know," Solly responded. "Probably not. But I need to know. I made a promise."
"Even assuming that they might still be alive, you wouldn't want to take the device anywhere near them, or you'd expose them to the same risks you're saving the children here from."
Solly sighed and ran his hands through his greasy hair. How long had it been since he'd washed properly? When had he last shaved? What had he become?
"I've got a suggestion," Ross said, hesitantly. "Why don't you take the cylinder far enough away to send them off on the wrong scent, then come back here and wait until the weather improves before deciding to head off across the country?"
There was a general murmuring of assent and encouragement.
"A good plan," Arnold said. "It means we only lose our Solly for a couple of weeks."
Agatha hemmed and hawed. "But a job put off is a job never finished, that's all I'm saying."
Solly smiled at Ross, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by the sound of a fist pounding on the door.
Janice, Jaxon and Ross called the all clear from their vantage points looking out over the farm in each direction. No new vehicles had appeared, and no one was moving.
The door shuddered again, and a male voice called out. "Anyone there?"
Landon took station behind the staircase and pointed his shotgun between the rails at the door. Solly had his handgun raised in his right hand as he turned the handle with his left. He gave a quick nod to Landon and yanked on the door.
A man stood in the doorway, leaning forward as if about to knock again. He stood up straight and raised both hands. He was wearing a heavy black coat with a scarf wrapped around his cheeks and a sodden woolly hat. "Thank heavens. It's you!" he said.
Solly brought his weapon to bear. "Who are you?"
"Neil!" Janice called. "Is it you?"
The man pulled his scarf from his face and stood, beaming, on the doorstep.
"Indeed. Now tell me, is Jeremiah dead?"
Solly, Ross and Janice sat in the back parlor of the farmhouse while Neil Buchanan alternated between slurps of coffee and bites of a doorstop goose sandwich.
"This is amazing," he said, paying no heed to them.
There was little evidence of the well dressed and cleanly shaven man who'd met them when they'd arrived at the community in New Jersey. This Neil Buchanan had evidently been on the road for a few days and he didn't look like a man used to deprivation of any sort.
Solly had quickly explained Jeremiah's death as Buchanan had refused to answer any other questions until he knew what had happened. The relief on his face had been obvious when Solly explained that he had the cylinder in the safe below the house.
"Is everything okay back home?" Janice asked.
"Hold on," Solly said, before Buchanan could answer. "Answer this first: how did you find us?"
Buchanan washed down the last of his sandwich with a final swig of coffee, then looked up at Solly and nodded. "That is a good question. But it's easily answered—I was given the same coordinates as Jeremiah. When he failed to check in, I was sent to find out what had happened."
"Sent by who?" Solly asked, though he knew the answer.
"Khaled—the man who gave you the device."
So that explained why they'd been welcomed into that community after they'd escaped New York. Neil was connected somehow to Khaled and had been forewarned.
"But the last we saw, he was being dragged off by Lee Corporation guards," Janice said. "Did he escape somehow?"
Buchanan gave a slight smile. "No, he didn't escape. Khaled works for the Lee Corporation, as do I."
Solly was on his feet in an instant, cursing that he'd left his revolver in the armory. Janice and Ross cried out in alarm.
"Don't misunderstand!" Buchanan called, raising his hands in supplication. "He and I, and some others, are employed by the Lee Corporation, but are working against its twisted aims. The device you call a cylinder is the single most important asset the corporation owns but, until just now, I believed that they didn't know it was even missing. Khaled had his suspicions and, when Jeremiah failed to report, we were both certain they were looking for it and, ind
eed, had found it. Thanks to you, we know that only one of those turned out to be the case. But time is now against us, Solly. The device must leave here in the morning. The future of humanity depends on it getting into the right hands."
The sun rose on a blissfully blue sky as the group gathered around the big red pickup. Neil and Ross were coming with Solly and they'd piled their packs into the back of the cab. The weapons of the raiders had been hidden in the basement of the farmhouse as a backup to the armory.
Despite Neil's insistence that they set off immediately, it had taken until midnight before Janice persuaded Solly that he had to go. He'd then spent some time with Landon, making certain in his own mind that the young man was up to the task of being chief protector of the farmhouse. Janice would be in charge and she would be advised by Arnold. Solly went over his suggestions for security, including that Jaxon be fully trained in firearms, but that this should happen out of hearing of the farm.
He had his doubts, but there was at least a chance that this would be the making of Landon. He'd suffered as much as any of them but having responsibility for the safety of the farmhouse would provide a focus for his restless energy.
Solly had quick conversations with Arnold and Miss Prism, and then said goodbye to the children. He'd been surprised by their reaction. Many had dissolved into tears, some had begged him to stay, but he'd found it hardest to part from Jaxon. Solly knew that if he'd asked, Jaxon would have come with them, but he convinced the boy that his place was here, protecting the children that meant so much to him. In any case, he and Arnold's granddaughter Liana had become an item so there was that to keep him on the straight and narrow.
As Solly opened the driver's door of the pickup, Janice threw herself into his arms. They'd spent an all-too-brief time privately talking and holding each other after Solly had seen to everyone else and organized his possessions. He'd breathed in the scent of her hair and felt glad he'd showered in preparation for the journey. She'd never offered more intimacy, and he'd never asked but, in a different time and place, one where two compatible souls could get to know each other and fall in love in peace, he would certainly have trodden that path.
Solly felt a lump in his throat as he released her. For a moment, they held each other's gaze and then, quite suddenly, they leaned in and kissed. It was with tears in his eyes that he withdrew and got into the driver's seat.
Ross sat beside him on the center seat, also wiping his eyes. On his lap was a page ripped out of the atlas—much to Miss Prism's disgust—that showed the first part of the journey.
As they were about to go, Landon hobbled out of the barn carrying what looked like a pipe with a loop of string around one end and something metal stuck to the other. Solly opened his window and Landon showed him the contraption. "It's a bailer bucket," he said. "If you need to get fuel out of a gas station tank. Drop it down and it'll fill up, then this here valve stops the gas spilling. I've put a funnel in the trunk, so you're all set to go. Been working on it since our little chat."
Solly dropped the tube down behind his seat. "Thanks Landon. Where did you learn to make that?"
"Grandpappy had a well, and he used one of these to fetch the water out. I was just trying to find somethin' I could do to help, and I remembered the bailer bucket."
Solly shook Landon's hand. "Good man. I'll be back as soon as I can."
He turned the key, put the truck into drive and, without looking back, he drove down the lane toward the creek and the road that ran alongside it, trying desperately not to think about how many miles lay between him and returning to the place he now thought of as home.
Chapter 7
"What's that?" Smith asked, pointing out of the car window to the right.
Paulie glanced across him. "It's the capitol building. I've often wondered if we should check it out, but I kinda expected to hear from them at some point."
They'd been forced off the main highway by what looked like a purpose built blockade that had since been abandoned so, rather than bypassing Olympia, they were driving through it. They were heading for the National Guard base in Seattle where she'd taken her basic training. She knew where the arms lockers were on the base and hoped that some of the more obscure ones might remain unopened. Then they'd have the means to defend themselves. But the journey had already taken far longer than they'd expected.
Paulie hadn't driven outside the city limits of Arbroath since the Long Night. She'd listened to Smith's stories about his travels, but she'd only half believed him—partly because she knew he was holding plenty back about himself, but also because she didn't want to believe it. They were driving in convoy, Paulie and Smith in the Cherokee, followed by Graf and Tucker in a delivery truck. She'd had reservations about bringing Tucker along after he'd come close to disobeying her orders the other night, but he was, after all, a former gunnery sergeant. He was also as hard as nails.
At first, they'd made decent progress, picking their way between the abandoned vehicles on route 12. Paulie had quickly learned not to look inside the cars and trucks, but rather to treat them as nothing more than obstacles to be navigated around. They'd seen no other living things except for carrion birds until they reached the small town of Monestano. As she looked down on it from the overpass, she could see movement. There was a small retail park with a McDonald's and a motel, and people gathered around a fire lit in a trash can. She saw them look up at the little convoy, pointing and then scurrying for cover.
The closer they got to Olympia, the harder it became to find a way through. In the end, she was forced to follow the truck as it barged a path through the scattered vehicles until, finally, they could go no further on the highway.
They passed along streets lined with low rise buildings before reaching the commercial area. A Korean grocery store with its windows blown inwards next to a burned-out Vietnamese restaurant and then, quite suddenly, as they reached an intersection, they found the road entirely blocked.
Two men, each armed with shotguns, walked up to Paulie's car.
"Who are you and where are you from?"
The speaker was an old man wrapped up in a large jacket and fur lined hat.
Paulie heard the quiet click as Smith flipped the safety on his M9. "I'm Sheriff Paulina Ramos from Arbroath. We're just passing through on our way to Seattle."
The old man peered into the car. "Just the two of you? So, who's your friend?"
Smith leaned over and held out his hand. "I'm Pastor Smith."
"You're a man of God? We have need of you. Come and have shelter with us for the night. My name is Jethro Thomas." He shook Smith's hand and then Paulie's. "And who's in the truck?"
"Two of my deputies," Paulie said. "We're heading to Seattle to see what supplies we can get."
Thomas looked doubtful. "Well, you know your own business, I'm sure. But I don't hear nothing good coming out of there. Anyway, you can leave your vehicles here and come inside. I'll set someone to watch them overnight."
Paulie glanced at Smith who nodded. The truth was that it solved the problem of where they were going to camp tonight. She hadn't wanted to stop in an urban area but neither did she want to go on driving for long after dark.
"We'll look after your weapons," Thomas said.
Paulie shook her head. "No way are we handing them over. One of us will stay here with them overnight."
The community here was much smaller than in Arbroath and much less organized. No more than a hundred souls inhabited the hotel they'd commandeered and the safe area they'd created was no more than a couple of hundred yards across.
"We've done the best we can, but we got hit by bandits just as we were getting set up. Like fools, we thought they were the National Guard come to help us out, so we opened the gates and let them drive right in. Not that we could have stopped them even if we'd wanted to. Armed to the teeth, they were."
The image of the military convoy that had approached the barricade at Arbroath popped into her mind.
"We saw them,
but they turned away."
The old man shook his head. "You were lucky—they took everything we had, and some of our younger menfolk even went off with them. We've been dreading them coming back. Mind you, we've hidden our food where they'll never find it if they come back again. Oh, here's Luigi."
They'd arrived at the center of a four-way intersection where a fire was burning, lighting up the square. A large middle-aged man walked toward them, then pulled Jethro aside. Paulie watched as the old man explained who they were, the other man's eyes darting back and forth between him and them.
After a few moments, he broke away and walked toward them with his hand outstretched. "Welcome to our community. My name is Luigi Napoli. Jethro is a trusting man to allow you in, but it seems you are not here to steal from us and we are in no position to resist in any case."
Paulie took his hand, "Thank you. We' re grateful to have found somewhere safe to stop for the night."
Graf had stayed with the truck and Napoli seemed doubtful when he looked up into Marvin's bushy face, but his expression lifted when he met Smith. "Ah, thank the Lord. You have been sent to us in our time of need."
Paulie thought Smith gave a tiny sigh before responding.
"I am pleased to be here, Mr. Napoli. How may I be of service?"
Napoli took his arm and guided him to what had once been a women's clothing shop on the corner. "This is our makeshift chapel, Pastor. It would greatly comfort us if you would lead us in a service. We did not celebrate our Lord's birth as we would wish, but perhaps now we can make amends."
This time, Paulie was certain she'd seen it. Smith's shoulders sagged as if the burden of ministering to these people weighed him down. She watched as he was led away, and then noticed that Jethro was speaking to the others.
"... join us in our evening meal," he said, and headed toward a coffee bar. Candles filled the inside and Paulie's nose wrinkled at the bitter aroma of roasting beans. "Luigi is a clever man—he has adapted some charcoal barbecues, so we can cook and make coffee." He waved at the closed kitchen door.
Scattered: Book 2 in the Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival series: (The Long Night - Book 2) Page 5