After their departure from Breezewood, they'd spoken together for a long time as both processed the loss of Neil. They'd known him for only a few days, but they realized, now he was gone, that he'd become a vital part of their little unit. He'd also been the prime source of motivation to get the accursed cylinder across country. Neil knew a lot more about it than Solly did and had been totally convinced that it needed to be delivered to someone in Arbroath. His story about Annabel Lee and the corporation she founded had helped fill in some of the background and Solly no longer doubted that their mission was critical, he just wished someone else had been burdened with it or, if not, that Neil were here to help. And to finish the story. So much was still unclear to him.
Ross had taken the loss of Neil even harder. The two had become close—though in a more brotherly way than Solly's relationship with him, which, although he didn't care to admit it, was more like father son. Once the dialog had quietened, Ross sat looking out the window as the wintry countryside passed and Solly could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind.
They'd reached the other side of Pittsburgh as the sky began to darken. Ross spotted a sign to Chippewa Golf Club, and they followed the long looping lane around to the parking lot in front of the red painted clubhouse. Surprisingly, it was still intact, and it was with some regret that Solly smashed the window and opened the door. There was a small bar inside, and they made themselves comfortable on the padded benches. Though they were in the middle of nowhere, after the events of the previous night, they decided to take two-hour stints on guard duty, though Solly left the boy to sleep for the final shift.
The following day dawned bright and crisp. It was a reluctant Solly who pulled his legs out of the sleeping bag and immediately into his cold jeans. Ross was snoring and Solly left him as he went in search of any food that might still be edible. To his delight he found a vending machine full of snacks in the golf shop, so it was with an arm full of chocolate and potato chips that he woke Ross up.
They joined I-70 just west of Bentleyville and made good progress that morning, though Solly's eyes had become heavy by 11 a.m. and they were forced to stop for lunch, so he could boil up some water for coffee. The roads here were less congested, but they were still forced to divert onto the grass roadside from time to time. They spent a frustrating and backbreaking hour pushing cars out of the way when they became trapped between two crash barriers, the worst of it was having to open the vehicles up to release their handbrakes. Solly took this upon himself and resolved to burn his clothes at the first opportunity.
The bright weather of the morning was replaced with dreary rain and dark clouds, and the hours passed as they felt like ants crawling across a desert getting nowhere fast. When they were approaching Wheeling, WV, they found themselves at the back of a nose-to-tail logjam. As a parting gift, Hanna had given them a road atlas to replace the torn out map sheets they'd been using and Ross found their location quickly enough.
"There's a tunnel up ahead," he said. "We're not gonna go through it are we?"
"No way. I'll get us off the interstate and we'll cut across country." The memory of their nightmare journey through that tunnel in New York was still fresh enough to put him off going anywhere near another.
They swung off to the south of the tunnel and took the bridge into the old town, passing wooden houses covered in flaking paint and rotten wood. A group of men ran out at them from the yard of one of those houses. Solly didn't stop to find out whether they were asking for help or attempting an ambush, he put his foot down and weaved the car expertly between the obstacles until they'd fallen behind.
They headed back onto the interstate and, over the hours that followed, saw a gradual increase in the number of vehicles on the road and the way became a little easier to find. They were heading for Columbus, but, again, intended to steer to the south of the city to avoid the urban area.
Their second night since leaving Breezewood was spent much less comfortably than the first. They'd passed nowhere that felt safe, so Solly resorted to pulling the car onto a side road within sight of the highway, then parking under a bridge. It was too cold to get out for any reason other than the natural essentials, so they sat in the cab, boiled up a can of soup and had it with some vacuum-packed pita bread he'd found in the golf restaurant that morning. Neither of them slept well, and it was with aching bones and a dull thumping headache that Solly started the car again in the morning.
By midday, they'd passed Columbus by. Solly had begun to recognize when they were nearing a major conurbation by the rising columns of smoke that gathered on the horizon each time. Columbus was no exception, and he wondered what was causing the fires. Presumably they were deliberately set, but they could have been either constructive or destructive. Maybe folks were just trying to keep warm.
They headed toward Springfield on a road that was becoming increasingly clear and so they reached the outskirts of Dayton, OH, shortly after another hurried and caffeine intensive lunch by the roadside. This time, the plan was to pass the city to the north and stay on the highway but, as they approached, they found the road blocked by a tanker on its side.
Luckily, there was a slip road just ahead of it, but Solly's guts tightened as they took it. An old Land Rover accelerated off the grass as they reached the bottom and headed toward them. Solly slammed his foot on the gas and the pickup lurched away, leaving the pursuers in its wake but, just as he thought they'd escaped, another car burst out from under a bridge and plowed into their side, throwing Ross across the seat.
Solly yanked on the steering wheel, desperately trying to bring the truck back under control as the tires squealed and he swerved back and forth in a desperate attempt to get away. Gunfire cracked from behind and he heard the metallic dink, dink of hits to the bodywork. They were catching up with him, and he steered randomly, hoping he could find his way back to the main road. Dink, dink, dink. The rounds seemed to be hitting the tailgate; it seemed they didn't want to damage whatever he had in the back.
Bingo, he was on an approach road back to I-70. But now, the pursuers were only a few car lengths back. His heart froze as there, blocking their approach to the highway, lay yet another car. Behind it the sun glinted on the barrels of the guns pointed in his direction.
"What are we going to do?" Ross said, his voice trembling.
"They've got us trapped. We've got to hope they'll settle for taking our stuff."
Solly said this to comfort the boy, but they didn't look like the kind who'd think twice about blowing their heads off.
He began slowing down as he approached the barrier and was just about to stop when there was a burst of fire—heavy, machine gun fire—from behind it and he saw, coming down from the highway, a Humvee. The makeshift barrier rocked as it was riddled with bullets, the bandits scattering far and wide as it approached. In his rearview mirror, Solly saw the car that had been chasing him do a handbrake turn and speed away in a cloud of burning rubber.
He couldn't follow them, or he'd be in their hands again. The Humvee looked legitimate and was being handled with practiced precision, but he had no idea whether they were genuine military or whether he'd just swapped one deadly situation for another.
He brought the car to a full halt as soldiers jumped down and crouched, carbines pointing at them. Someone in military uniform got down from the front and walked toward Solly's car. He and Ross got out, their empty hands held high as he approached.
"As I see it, you folks were being pursued by those scum," he said. "Call themselves The Wolverines, but they pretty soon high tail it away when they're outgunned. Have I got that right?"
Solly nodded vigorously, "Yes, we were just passing through and they ambushed us."
"Thought so. My name's Corporal Kuchinsky." He put out his hand and Solly shook it.
"Solly Masters. Who are you with?"
The man smiled. "Well, different military divisions don't mean squat anymore, but I was just a grunt. Got my stripe when the call went out and n
ow I'm a part of the joint forces out of Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. We're trying to clean up a little and, lucky for you, you're on our patrol route today. I guess you boys would like somewhere to freshen up and set yourself right?"
"Thanks for the offer, but I think we'd rather get back on the road," Solly said, as his heart slowed to a more normal beat.
Again, the corporal smiled. "Sorry boys, but we're under standing orders to bring in anyone we find on the roads. It's one way we get intelligence about what's happening elsewhere."
As he spoke, he waved at the covering soldiers and they jogged past him. "We'll just give your pick up the once over and then you can follow us back."
Solly flipped down the punctured tailgate and rolled back the cover before watching two of the soldiers searching through his stuff.
"What's this?" Kuchinsky said.
Solly's heart sank. "It's just a safe with valuables in. Personal stuff."
"I'm afraid I'm gonna have to ask you to open it."
"Sorry, I can't do that," Solly said miserably.
The corporal shook his head sadly. "In that case, we'll be forced to destroy it. Can't risk taking anything unknown into the base. Hand me a grenade," he said to one of the others.
"I'll do it," Solly muttered, and he leaned forward to key the combination. "But please don't get it out."
Too late. The corporal had reached inside and pulled out the cylinder.
"What is it? It looks a bit like an artillery round, but I don't reckon it's a weapon."
"It's mine," Solly said. "It's of no military value. Please return it and let us go."
"Sorry, Mr. Masters, but we're taking this and you're going to follow us back to the base. We'll get some of our eggheads to take a look at it and see what we can find out if you won't spill the beans."
Solly got back into the truck and watched as the Humvee turned around. The cylinder and the hopes of the human race were now in the hands of what was left of the military.
Chapter 13
Solly felt like a country bumpkin on his first trip into the city when he entered the mess hall at the Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. Not since the Long Night had he seen so many people together in one place. Civilians occupied just over half the area, generating a hubbub of chatter and laughter that reminded Solly of a shopping mall on Christmas Eve.
Solly and Ross sat in the military zone next to their escort, Corporal Kuchinsky. A likable man who was full of energy, Kuchinsky was, nonetheless, their roving jailer, keeping tabs on them until their inevitable meeting with the base commander.
Looking around at the milling people, the running children and the general vivacity of the place, Solly couldn't help but feel a surge of hope for the future. But then, what of the cylinder? If Neil was to be believed—and Solly didn't doubt him—a second wave was coming that would, at the very least, see to the enslavement of these people. More likely, according to Neil, it would lead to their deaths.
But if it was a weapon of some sort, then surely the military were the right people to have it. This place seemed to be the real deal, not the camp of some bandit with stolen equipment. According to Kuchinsky, the call had been put out far and wide for surviving military personnel to gather here and to bring civilians with them if they wished to come.
The base was too vast to protect, so one corner had been carved out, protected on three sides by the original razor wire, chain link and checkpoints, and on the other by a recently constructed wire fence made from pieces cut from the perimeter. It was, perhaps, a fourth of its original area, but the safe zone included all the principle buildings and facilities, so it was large enough to house the hundreds of people gathered here.
Judging by their variety, the new residents weren't families, but rather groups of individuals gathered together with the common purpose of seeking safety and shelter behind the shield of the military.
Solly learned that the base generated its own electricity, with scavenging parties such as Kuchinsky's sent out to locate and drain the local gas stations, and had its own water towers. Food was scavenged from distribution centers, often at the cost of a firefight with the bandits protecting it. It was an efficient operation and, at the center of it, like a spider pulling on the threads, was its commander.
Colonel George McBride was an impressive man. Stocky, tanned and with close cropped black hair pebble dashed with gray, he stood to greet Solly and Ross as they entered his office. A perfectly pressed blue uniform complete with silver wings and a chest full of ribbon completed the impression of the consummate professional soldier.
"Mr. Masters, thank you for joining me," he said in a voice that was rich and deep. "I trust Corporal Kuchinsky ensured you were fed and watered."
Solly took his hand but couldn't compete with the firm grip. "He did, thank you. We're much refreshed."
"And keen to be on your way? Or would you prefer to remain for a while and help us secure this community?"
Ross and Solly took seats in front of the Colonel's desk as he sat down. "We'd like to move on, though we'd appreciate a place to stay for tonight."
"Of course. Where will you go?"
"That depends on you," Solly said, carefully considering what he was going to say. "If you will return the device I was carrying, then I'll continue west. If not, I'll return to Hagerstown."
McBride seemed to consider this as he leaned back in his chair. "What do you know of this device?"
This was the crunch. Two opposing forces wrestled for control of Solly's mind. On the one hand, Neil had insisted that the cylinder had to be delivered into the right hands and he had never suggested that this might include giving it to the military, official or otherwise. On the other hand, he couldn't deny it would be wonderful to simply give it to this impressive man and drive back to the farmhouse before heading south to Texas. He imagined the weight of another two thousand miles on the road west being lifted from his shoulders and almost buckled. Almost.
"I don't know a lot," he responded. "But let me ask you, what do you think caused the Long Night?"
"The Long Night? Is that what you call it? To us it's the Massacre. Do you know, out of the personnel on this base only two in a hundred survived that night? I watched hundreds of the men and women under my command fall down dead as if they'd been gassed. It became obvious quickly that the civilian population hadn't been hit quite so hard, but still, it was carnage."
He regarded Solly for a moment before continuing. "As for causes, my scientists tell me they think it's related to a Bones malfunction. They think it's possible the BonesWare system was hacked and a virus injected."
"Hacking BonesWare is considered impossible," Solly responded. "It would have been a lot easier for the manufacturer to insert malicious code, after all."
McBride leaned forward, all attention now. "Are you suggesting the Lee Corporation deliberately killed 95% of their customers? Why would they do something like that? "
"I don't know the detail. All I do know is that they build and license BonesWare, so every implant runs their code. The device I had in my car is also built by them, but it has a role to play in stopping a second wave."
"Explain yourself," McBride said.
Solly sighed. "Again, I don't know much. I was given the device by a rogue agent within Lee Corp—which is still a functioning unit—and told to take it out of New York. I believe it's something they consider extremely valuable. I was then tracked down by two other agents and they persuaded me to take it to a town in Washington State where it could be handed over to someone who knows what to do with it."
As he said this out loud, Solly realized how hazy his understanding was and how much he'd been prepared to do based on little more than hints and gut feeling.
"So, it's a weapon," McBride said.
"I honestly don't know. I don't think so, not in the traditional sense of an explosive device. But it is fitted with some sort of transponder, so it needs shielding, that's why it was in the safe."
McBride n
odded and stood up. "I'll let our technicians know. Thank you, Mr. Masters, but I believe this device is safest here. I will have you assigned some temporary quarters and will be pleased to refuel your vehicle and provide supplies for your return journey."
There was no point in arguing. The colonel had the power to do what he wished with Solly, Ross and the cylinder and, after all, if it was taken from him by the military then he could hardly be blamed. And he wouldn't have to drive across the country. He saw their faces: Janice, Bella, Jake and Maddie, and quietly made his exit.
Solly was jerked awake by the sound of an explosion followed by the rat-at-at of small arms fire. He flicked the light on as Ross sat up in the bed next to his.
"What is it?" Ross murmured.
Solly thrust his legs into his pants. "The Lees," he said. "Coming for the cylinder."
"They'd attack a base?"
Ross was right to be doubtful. So far, all they'd seen of the Lee Corp security forces was the squad that came to retrieve Khaled in New York City and the two who'd killed Jeremiah. However, it could hardly be a coincidence that, on the day he'd brought the cylinder here, the base came under attack.
"You stay here," Solly called.
"No!"
He turned and grabbed the boy by the arms. "Look, I'm going to try to get to the cylinder before they do, and I don't need to have you to worry about as well as myself." He drew Ross into a hug, then ruffled his hair. "I'll be back."
"Alright, Arnie," Ross said, though his face betrayed his terror.
"If anything happens to me, stay here where it's safe. Get word to the farmhouse—maybe they can come here too."
They had been found lodging in a civilian block and the flashes of gunfire were coming from an area to their south. Solly collided with a man who emerged from another room.
"Where's the science block?"
"Never heard of it. There's the tech lab, though, but it's down there." He waved a hand in the direction of the gunfire. "Building C5."
Scattered: Book 2 in the Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival series: (The Long Night - Book 2) Page 10