Desolation (Book 2): Into the Inferno

by Lucin, David

  The possibility that soldiers had killed José and Tess and stolen Ed’s truck crossed Jenn’s mind. But why would they do that? For supplies? For transport?

  For fun?

  She gripped her gun tighter. “They could have done it. Attacked Ed.”

  Sophie pulled on her cigarette and blew smoke. “Why?”

  “Why not?” Jenn said. “Camp Verde. Prescott. Maybe they’re starving out here and went AWOL or something. You really want to wait around and find out?”

  Sophie tucked a rogue strand of hair into her cap. “I appreciate your concern, but I can’t agree with you this time. If the plan was to kill us, why show their hand first? Why fly in these drones? I’d think the United States Armed Forces, the greatest military in history, would be better at ambushing people.”

  Dylan shrugged in apparent agreement. “She’s got a point. If they wanted to take us out, they would’ve done it by now. We wouldn’t have known it was coming.”

  Jenn snorted. “Yeah, and you’d know.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Her blood was running hot. The buzz of the drones burrowed into her skull. Her hindbrain commanded her to run and hide, but she breathed in and wrestled it into submission.

  Dylan and Sophie were right; the military didn’t do this.

  “Nothing.” She laid her gun in the dirt. “Sorry.”

  Still seated casually, Sophie turned to Carter. “You good, Vladdy? Soldiers are coming. Stick close, no sudden movements. You got it?”

  “Got it,” the big man said. His face had gone pink.

  The next ten minutes felt like an hour. The group remained quiet while the drones observed from high in the sky. Jenn could feel the cameras scanning her face and running her features through a database somewhere. But there was no Internet, so that wasn’t possible, was it?

  She hoped Sophie and Dylan were right and this really was the military. They based that conclusion solely on the model of the drones. What if Dylan was wrong about them? He was in the Canadian military, not the American, so why would he know what a U.S. drone looked like? Could he even tell? From this far, Jenn could hardly discern any details besides the propellers.

  The sound of a vehicle came from the direction they’d driven from. Sophie commanded them to line up and fall to their knees as if they were criminals facing a firing squad.

  A tan-colored Humvee appeared in the distance. The sight didn’t make Jenn feel any better. Her hindbrain screamed some more and commanded her to pick up her gun and escape. She hadn’t played softball in two years, but she was still quick on her feet. That was why her coaches always made her play center field, even though she hated it. If she broke into a sprint now, she could flee into the desert, away from this vehicle.

  “Hands on your heads,” Sophie said. “Let’s give these boys no reason whatsoever to consider us a threat.”

  Jenn complied as the Humvee rolled to a stop. Its features were boxy, and its tires were bigger than any Jenn had ever seen. The windshield was tinted black, hiding the occupants from view. On the roof, a large-caliber machine gun swiveled back and forth as its AI examined the group closely.

  On the far end of the line, Carter shifted his weight from one knee to the other. Dylan remained still, his eyes on the dirt in front of him. On Jenn’s left, Sophie chewed her bottom lip and Valeria muttered something in Spanish.

  The Humvee’s two rear doors swung open. A soldier came out of each. Both wore brown-patterned camouflage and carried rifles. Masks with respirators and tinted goggles shielded their faces and hid their eyes. Their helmets, equipped with tiny cameras, sported American flags on the sides. For some reason, seeing the familiar stars and stripes made Jenn relax, if only a little.

  The soldiers stood next to the Humvee, their weapons low but ready. Then the passenger door opened, and a third soldier, also masked, stepped out. Rifle in hand, he positioned himself between the other two.

  Jenn gulped when they remained quiet. She could hear Carter breathing and the machine gun whining as it swiveled. A light breeze blew hair across her face, but she didn’t dare move her hands or brush it away.

  “Sophie Beaumont,” the middle soldier said. His mask amplified and distorted his voice, making him sound like a robot.

  If he knew Sophie, that meant he knew Jenn, too. More importantly, it meant Jenn was wrong: the military did have access to facial recognition databases.

  Sophie cleared her throat. “In the flesh”—hands still behind her head, she squinted and leaned forward to inspect the soldier’s uniform—“uh, Sergeant.”

  “Staff Sergeant,” Dylan corrected. He’d let his arms down. Jenn kept hers up, even though they were going numb.

  “Wife of Edward Beaumont?” the soldier asked.

  “Yes,” she answered. “Who’s asking?”

  “Where is he?” Carter blurted. “Have you seen Ed?”

  The sergeant motioned for the other soldiers to lower their weapons. As they did, the auto-turret on the Humvee ceased moving and went silent. Stepping closer to Sophie, he pulled off his mask. His skin was weathered and sunburnt, and his hair was longer than the standard military buzz. Thick stubble with patches of gray and red near the chin made him appear older than he probably was. More than anything, he looked tired. Jenn thought he might pass out or topple over if he blinked too hard.

  “Ma’am, my name is Staff Sergeant Colin Murphy. Our records show that your husband, Edward Beaumont, was admitted to the New River relief camp three days ago.”

  Carter shouted something as Sophie caressed her necklace. Jenn wasn’t listening. “Relief camp?” she asked, her hands falling to her sides.

  “That’s correct,” Colin said. “It has food, supplies, and a hospital.”

  Butterflies suppressed the persistent nausea from the concussion. Her parents could be there. She pictured them sitting on foldout cots in a tent with a red cross on the front. Their little car could have been damaged by the EMP. No wonder they didn’t go to Flagstaff. How would they? They probably tried heading north, away from the fires, and found the relief camp. Staying there, where it was safe, made sense. They must have assumed Jenn would come to them, not the other way around. After all, as far as they knew, Sam had his Tesla and Gary had his Kia. How could she have been so stupid? Of course they were waiting for her.

  Stop it. She mouthed the words to ensure they stuck. Just because there was a relief camp north of the city didn’t mean her parents were there. Millions lived in Metro Phoenix. Surviving the blasts and finding their way to safety was, statistically, highly unlikely. No, it was impossible.

  “Who are you?” Jenn asked the soldiers, cutting off Carter as he spewed out questions about Ed.

  Colin looked confused. “National Guard, ma’am. We were stationed outside of Phoenix. Our unit deployed to the north end of the valley after the attacks.”

  “National Guard? So that means the government survived, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “How? Wasn’t Washington attacked?”

  Colin winced a little, then scratched his cheek with a gloved hand. “I’m not at liberty to say. What I know for certain is that President Duncan is alive and that we’re doing everything we can to stabilize the situation.”

  Sophie rose to a knee. She touched her breast pocket, but finding no cigarettes, she said, “Not quite enough, Staff Sergeant. Those bodies there?” She jerked her thumb toward José and Tess. “My people. Someone killed them and left them out here to rot like roadkill. Where were you when that happened?”

  Colin bowed his head. “José Gutierrez and Tessa Simpson.”

  “Okay.” There was irritation in Sophie’s voice. “This your idea of stabilizing the situation?”

  With a nod, Colin gestured to the soldiers on his flanks, who made their way toward the bodies. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we only arrived here yesterday. A group we think came from the city had set up camp in Cordes Lakes. They had the bridge blocked off. We had to ta
ke the town by force. My guess is they’re responsible for what happened here.”

  “It was them,” Jenn said. “They attacked Ed. How did he get away?”

  The two masked soldiers shuffled past. They carried José between them. “I can’t say,” Colin started. “But we can escort you down to New River to see him.”

  “And my people?” Sophie asked.

  “We’ll take them with us,” Colin offered. “Give them a proper burial.”

  She stood, took off her cap, and held her hands out to the side. “Well?” she said to her team.

  Carter clapped. “Let’s go!”

  Valeria rose without saying a word while Dylan made his way to Colin and shook his hand.

  Could Jenn trust these soldiers? They’d given her no reason to distrust them. Not yet. Colin seemed genuinely remorseful about the deaths of José and Tess and offered to bury them. And he called Jenn “ma’am.” Had anyone ever called her that before?

  For the first time in days, she had a good feeling about something. These three soldiers were the only strangers who hadn’t shot or attacked them outright since they left Flagstaff. Even Jordan, a sheriff, led with violence. Colin’s explanation made sense, too: if a gang had taken over Camp Verde, it stood to reason that another—or the same one—could have established itself in Cordes Lakes, which was closer to Phoenix.

  More than anything, Jenn wanted to see the relief camp. Ed was there. They could bring him home. Though she hated to acknowledge it, the possibility of her parents surviving nagged at her. She’d never know for sure unless she went and saw for herself.

  * * *

  Once more, Jenn was in the Nissan, which followed the Humvee down I-17 and toward New River. She pictured the relief camp: white tents stretching to the horizon. Her mother and father were there, both in baby-blue hospital gowns. Ash covered their faces, and Mom had an IV in her arm. They laughed and talked about when they’d see Jenn again.

  No. She tried to think of Sam. What would he be doing right now? Helping Barbara adjust to the new house, probably. A tall task. Hopefully they found some furniture. Otherwise, Barbara might refuse to continue living there and insist on staying with Gary. Nicole must be doing better. Maybe Jenn leaving would help. She wanted her sister back.

  “What do you think, Jansen?” Dylan asked.

  “Sorry?” Jenn said. He and Carter were talking, but she hadn’t been listening.

  “I want to know what you think about this.”

  She took a sip from her water bottle. “What’s there to think about?”

  Dylan shadowed the Humvee as it navigated around a stalled van. “You’re the jumpy one of the crew. You trust these guys?”

  Did she? Was this too easy? Too convenient? What were the chances that a group of soldiers would stop them on their way into Phoenix, happen to know where Ed was, and then offer to escort them to a relief camp outside the city? Why do that? To be friendly and compassionate? After all Jenn had been through, after all she’d seen since the bombs, she didn’t think many people possessed those qualities anymore. But if the soldiers intended to harm them, why the elaborate ruse? It made no sense.

  She picked at a loose thread on the side of Carter’s seat. “Occam’s razor,” she said.

  “That the thing about malice and ignorance or stupidity or whatever?”

  “That’s Hanlon’s razor.”

  “Ah.”

  “Occam’s razor says the simplest explanation is usually the right one.”

  Dylan’s brow knitted together.

  “What requires the least amount of speculation or assumptions?” Jenn asked. “That these soldiers have some convoluted plan to kidnap us by inventing a relief camp in New River, of all places, and then pretending they have Ed? Or that Ed’s just really at a relief camp?”

  “I guess.”

  “I don’t know,” Jenn said. “They didn’t shoot first, so that’s a check in the pros column, right?”

  Dylan barked a laugh. “Yeah, good point.”

  Jenn leaned her head on the window. A series of tall transmission towers stood out against the gray sky. The air continued to clear, even as they drove south. She could finally see traces of mountains on the horizon, if only just barely. “I guess they won me over by offering to take José and Tess.”

  “Will we get to say bye?” Carter asked.

  “We can ask,” Dylan said. “I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

  “Okay.”

  A few minutes of silence followed before Dylan spoke again. “Good to hear about the president, eh? And the government surviving.”

  “Yeah,” Jenn agreed. “I didn’t expect that. You think the war’s over?”

  “It doesn’t really matter.”

  “How do you figure?”

  He switched hands on the wheel. “You heard what Jordan said. This country’s a heap of rubble right now, and I can guarantee you our armies overseas were hit. The Marine division in Hong Kong? Gone. The army in Mexico City? Gone. The one in Warsaw? Outside Kyiv? In New Delhi? Gone, gone, gone.”

  Jenn scratched her neck. “So we lost?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. We have—had—the biggest nuclear arsenal in the world. The EU? Number three after us and China. Retaliation would’ve been swift and brutal. Our boomers in the Pacific probably sent China to the dark ages.”

  “Okay. I figured that. What’s your point?”

  Dylan turned in his seat. The seriousness in his face unnerved her. “There’s nothing left to fight for. We all lost.”

  Jenn wrung her hands together. It was an old cliché: there are no winners in war, only losers. She never really believed that, but Dylan’s analysis made it ring true. Even if China, Russia, and Brazil had been crushed and a peace treaty had been signed, so what? That didn’t change the fact that Jenn’s parents were dead, the power was out, and Flagstaff would run out of food before the end of summer.

  Still, it hardly seemed real. She could barely remember what came before the war. For the past five years, it was pervasive to the point that she used it to measure life milestones. Congress declared war on China only a few days before her fifteenth birthday. She kissed her first boyfriend around the time Russian tanks rolled into Bucharest and North Korean armies marched south into Seoul. That same boyfriend later broke up with her on the day Brazil captured the Panama Canal and intervened in the Mexican civil war. She graduated high school when Australian, New Zealand, and Japanese forces took Taipei and kicked the Chinese off Taiwan. Sam asked her out a week after Mexico City fell to the U.S. Army. Last summer, he, Jenn, and her parents had dinner together in Peoria when China launched its final big push into India. She killed a man less than four days after U.S. Marines liberated Hong Kong.

  All the destruction, all the suffering, all the lives lost—it meant nothing now. The thought made her furious. She sipped her water, hoping it would distract her. It didn’t work.

  Around noon, they went through a military checkpoint in Black Canyon City. Soon they began passing rows of identically shaped and colored single-story homes, which marked the outskirts of Metro Phoenix. Then the Humvee veered right, onto an offramp, and Dylan followed. The subdivisions of copy-paste houses gave way to a plain of parking lots and big-box stores. On the left, the large sign above a Go Market’s sliding doors was alight in its distinctive green. Two soldiers and a four-legged combat drone, a chest-high mechanical monster that resembled a cross between a jungle cat and an insect, stood guard. A Costco came next. Out front, a half dozen people loaded boxes into a trailer.

  Ahead, a fence stretched across the road, blocking their way. Topped with coils of barbed wire, it was at least ten feet tall. Floodlights flanked the central gate, which was guarded by four masked soldiers and a pair of legged drones. Inside, makeshift white tents lined both sides of the street, and people in civilian clothes walked between them. Jenn heard a helicopter in the distance.

  She knew this place: the Salt River Outlet Mall. For a short time, it w
as the largest outdoor mall in the world. Once, when Jenn was only four or five, she came here with her mother and her mother’s friend. By then, the depression had begun killing off retail stores across the country, and many were having clearance sales. Jenn recalled the smell of the rubber in the shoe stores and how much her feet hurt after hours of walking. Mom made it up to her, though, with chocolate and strawberry soft serve, which she ate beneath a mister outside the food court. Only a year later, most of these businesses had closed.

  Now, it seemed, the Salt River Outlet Mall had been reborn as a refugee camp. Jenn wondered if the food court was still there.

  The Humvee came to a stop. Dylan pulled up behind it and put the Nissan in park. In unison, he, Jenn, and Carter stepped out. She heard more buzzing; a drone hovered above them.

  Jenn shut her door and stood beside Dylan. “I never woulda thought they’d build a relief camp at a mall,” he said.

  “It makes sense.” She gestured to the two brown structures flanking the fence that stretched across the road. “Only a few ways in and out, so it’s easy to defend. Lots of empty places inside to put people. And look.” She nodded at a patch of glistening solar panels atop an old Adidas outlet on her right. “There’s power. Plus, Lake Pleasant’s not too far west. They can get fresh water from there. Actually, when you think about it, this is the perfect place to set up a camp.”

  Dylan bobbed his head. “Can’t argue with that logic, can I?”

  “Is Ed in there?” Carter asked.

  “Apparently,” Dylan said. “I hope so.”

  As Sophie and Valeria came up beside Dylan, the gate rumbled open enough for a person to fit through. Jenn expected a high-ranking military officer with gray hair and medals hanging off his jacket. Rather, an African-American man with a hairline, gut, and white mustache like Gary’s appeared. He wore khaki slacks and black dress shoes with scuff marks on the toes. Sweat stains colored the armpits of his blue collared shirt. One half was tucked in while the other hung over his pants. Jenn nearly laughed at his belt: it was a shoelace.