Getting Out Page 9

  “Sounds like you’ve worked out a lot of the problems that we were facing,” said Mandy.

  “Well, we’ve had a lot of time to figure things out. And before the EMP, we had the internet at our disposal. We looked everything up.”

  “So you’ve been living here since before the EMP?”

  “A few have,” said Kara. “But most of us would just make occasional trips here to help set things up. It wasn’t a full-time thing for us. I worked as a corporate lawyer, for instance. But I had a backup plan, and the minute the EMP hit, I hightailed it out of there.”

  Mandy glanced over at Max, who had a frown on his black-and-blue face.

  “Cheer up, Max,” whispered Mandy, nudging him in the ribs.

  Max just nodded.

  “I want to show you all something very special next. This took a lot of planning, but one of our guys, Jeff—you’ll meet him in a moment—is a big tech guy.”

  Kara led them to a small shed in the center of the compound. It was rickety, but large enough for them all to get inside.

  “Hey, Jeff.”

  A balding, middle-aged guy with a paunch sat at a small table. There was a microphone in front of him.

  He nodded at Kara, and went back to doing whatever it was he was doing. Writing down numbers in a small notebook with a stub of a pencil.

  “Is that a radio?” said Max.

  “Yup,” said Kara, smiling ear to ear proudly. “It’s a shortwave radio. So we can communicate with whoever’s out there. We haven’t found many people yet, but they’re out there.”

  “Didn’t the EMP destroy it?”

  “We had it in a Faraday cage, so it was protected,” said Jeff, looking up briefly from his notebook.

  Mandy now noticed that he was adjusting the radio in front of him. It had seemed too crazy, at first, to see him using a working electronic device, let alone a radio, that she hadn’t even really seen it.

  “That’s crazy,” said Mandy. “But how do you power it?”

  “We have a hand-crank battery over there,” said Kara, pointing to the corner. “It’s rudimentary, but it works. We’re hoping to hook it up to a bicycle soon.”

  “Pretty impressive,” muttered Max, sounding reluctant in his praise. “Who have you contacted?”

  “There’s one other community in New York, similar to ours. We send out a daily bulletin with information, not advertising our location, of course. It’s supposed to be for strangers who arrived and we take in, so that they can broadcast information about their families and things like that, about where they’re headed, that they’re still alive.”

  “Any luck so far?”

  “You’re one of the first groups to show up,” said Kara vaguely. “Why don’t we send it out now? It’s about time, isn’t it, Jeff?”

  “Yup.”

  “You guys OK with that?” said Kara.

  “I don’t know…” said Max.

  “Come on, Max, what’s the harm?” said Mandy. “If there’s anyone out there we know who’s still alive, maybe they’ll get the message at some point.”

  “I wouldn’t mind doing it,” said Georgia. “Although I’m sure my ex-husband is dead. That good-for-nothing couldn’t take out the trash, let alone survive an EMP.”

  Kara and Mandy laughed.

  “But I don’t get it,” said James, speaking for the first time in a while. “Nobody out there has a radio like this. Or at least not many people. So how would they get the message?”

  “Basically it works like one of those old internet bulletin boards,” said Kara. “We send out a message each day, and the other community, the one we have contact with, they write it all down. Then if someone comes by their community, they can check the registry. Hopefully the project will grow. Once we find others with working radios, we hope to spread the network all over the country.”

  “Basically it’d be like slow internet then?” said James.

  “Really slow internet, yeah,” said Kara, laughing.

  “All right, ready, Jeff?”

  Jeff nodded. “Just about.”

  Jeff fiddled with the dials on the radio.

  “OK,” he said, his voice changing to what could almost be considered an excited radio announcer’s voice. It was strange to hear, coming from the man who had seemed, moments ago, to have almost no energy about him at all. “We’re coming to you live from the nameless compound in an unspecified location. We’ve got some visitors here with us today. Let’s get their names. Come on, don’t be shy. Come right up to the microphone. One by one. That’s it. Sorry, folks, bear with us.”

  He spoke as if thousands or millions were listening. But in reality, there might have been a handful of listeners huddled around the radio in the far-away New York compound.

  One by one, Max, Mandy, Georgia, James, and Sadie went up and spoke their names, saying that they were still alive, which was already obvious.

  “Come on, Chad,” grunted Max, nudging Chad in the back.

  “Oh, right,” said Chad, approaching the microphone and briefly stating his name.

  “Now it’s getting close to dinner time, and I’d like to show you all your quarters before heading to the meal.”

  She led them to another series of buildings. They were made of concrete and had a cold feel to them.

  “They’re not pretty, but they work,” said Kara. “Now, this is the building for women, and those are for the men. Feel free to drop your stuff off before we head to dinner.”

  “I’ll keep it with me,” said Max, glaring at the others in their group. He was telling them, in not so many words, to do the same.

  “Whatever suits you,” said Kara. “Now let’s head over to the mess hall.”

  “Mandy,” hissed Georgia, as Kara began leading the way again. Georgia took hold of Mandy’s sleeve, and held her back while the rest continued.

  “What? Come on, I’m starving.”

  “We’re all hungry. Step in here for a minute. I don’t want anyone to hear us.”

  Mandy followed Georgia back into the women’s building. There were bunk beds lined up, a lot of them. The concrete construction gave the building a cold feel to it. The floor was concrete and seemed to suck the heat right from Mandy’s body. And there weren’t any windows. But nothing could be perfect. It was better to live, in Mandy’s mind, in a concrete building than in no building at all.

  “All right, what is it?”

  “Didn’t you notice anything strange?”

  “Strange?”

  Mandy’s stomach had rarely felt emptier, even since the EMP. She was dying for a huge plate of hot food: potatoes, beans, and greens, by the sound of it. Although at this point, she would have eaten just about anything.

  “Yeah, strange. Didn’t you see the bunks in here?”

  “What about them?”

  “They’re almost all empty. Look.”

  It was true. There was only one bunk that looked occupied. Probably Kara’s.

  “So what?”

  “Walking around, didn’t you notice how almost everyone here is a man? Kara might be the only woman.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Mandy thought back, and realized it was true.

  “Did you see the way they were looking at you?”

  “No.”

  “Well, you should have noticed. And not just you. But me and Sadie, too. I’m worried.”

  “Why?”

  “They’re all about self-sufficiency here, and sustainability. They want their community to continue to grow. And the only way to do that? Have kids. And you know what you need to have kids?”

  Mandy finally realized what Georgia was saying.

  “Come on, Georgia, that’s crazy. They’re not like that. Let’s go have dinner.”

  15

  John

  John’s eyes were on a branch that had snapped back into his face when it happened.

  Up ahead, there was a strange noise.

  Sara cried out. Derek made a noise that sounded like he was chokin
g in surprise.

  One moment, Derek, Sara, and the new guy Drew were there, in view. When John looked up, they were gone.

  John stopped. His hand seized his gun and he pointed it forward. His finger was on the trigger.

  He put his other hand up, letting Cynthia know to stop.

  “What happened?” said Cynthia.

  John didn’t answer.

  A scream up ahead.

  John didn’t know what to do. Did he turn back and flee with Cynthia? Or did he try to rescue the annoyingly naïve Derek and Sara?

  Obviously, there was some kind of trap.

  Probably Drew had led them into it, but John wasn’t sure.

  “Stay there,” whispered John.

  “If you’re going, I’m coming.”

  “No way. Stay.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  That was Cynthia’s way of trying to be endearing. It had come out slowly, her way of using insults to show affection and devotion. John was used to it.

  The branches on the side of the trail were thick. There wasn’t much hope of heading off to the side and approaching from an unexpected angle.

  Plus, who knew how much time there was left.

  John rushed forward, hoping that the element of surprise would be on his side.

  He came into a small clearing, off to the side of the narrow trail.

  Someone huge, wearing all orange, lunged at him.

  The guy’s weight was massive. He knocked John down.

  John didn’t drop the gun. He kept his grip tight.

  The guy was on top of him, pushing down.

  John could barely breathe.

  Somewhere nearby, someone cackled. It sounded like Drew.

  John could only see his attacker’s huge, ugly face, full of long red scars. He was a former prisoner, judging by the uniform he still wore. His head had been shaved, but the hair was growing back slowly, patchy and sparse.

  “I’ll be taking this,” came Drew’s voice, his face unseen.

  Another hand reached down to the gun.

  But John wasn’t going to let it go.

  He tried to move his arm, angling the gun so that he could threaten Drew or the big guy on top of him.

  But the big guy was pinning his arm down.

  Where the hell was Cynthia?

  Had she chickened out? He thought she’d been right behind.

  “Shit,” muttered Drew. “He’s holding onto this thing good.”

  Drew’s fingers were trying to pry the gun from John’s hand.

  “Just kill him,” said Drew. There was a sickening delight in his voice.

  So this was it.

  The big guy, with one free hand, picked up a loose rock, about the side of a baseball. He raised his hand, ready to smash it into John’s skull.

  John writhed under the weight. He kicked his feet. But he couldn’t reach anyone with them. He was stuck. Completely. He couldn’t do anything.

  A shot rang out.

  John saw it all. Blood gushed from the big guy’s temple. His expression dropped away, nothing but deadness showing on his face.

  He started to fall, his weight crashing down.

  Somehow, with the dead guy not actively holding John down, he was able to get out from under him. It took all his strength. He did it so quickly, so instinctively, that he wasn’t even sure, afterwards, how he’d done it. But he was out.

  Cynthia was standing nearby, her gun still raised, held with both hands. Determination was on her face.

  John was breathing heavily as he stood straight up. The gun was still in his hand. He raised it and pointed it squarely at Drew.

  There was a scurrying in the branches on the edge of the clearing. Someone, or someones, had just fled.

  “Where are the others? Derek and Sara?”

  Drew just smiled. “My guys have got them.”

  “And they’re just leaving you here?”

  “They work for me. Don’t worry. They’ll be back.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that.”

  Drew kept smiling. “Look, I’m sorry about all that with the gun. He got a little overenthusiastic. I was just trying to get the gun away from him. I don’t know what he’s capable of.”

  “You’re talking about him like he’s alive. Look at him.”

  “Yes, what a shame.”

  “Doesn’t sound genuine.”

  Drew shrugged. “He was an employee. But listen, we don’t need to let this little misunderstanding ruin what could be a mutually beneficial relationship between the three of us.”

  “You can’t sweet talk your way out of this one.”

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to do that.”

  “You remind me of a guy who was trying to sell me bogus siding once. And I never even had a house. Tell me where Derek and Sara are, or you’re dead.”

  “Truth is, I don’t know. I can call my guys back.”

  “Do it.”

  Drew cupped his hands to his mouth, and called out. “All right, guys, enough is enough. Bring ‘em back. They’re going to kill your boss if you don’t.”

  But Drew wasn’t taking it seriously. He still had a smile on his face. Clearly he didn’t think that John was capable of carrying out his word.

  “Looks like your guys have cut and run,” said John. “They’re not coming back.”

  “Guys!” called Drew. “You’re not going to abandon your boss, are you?”

  “Pathetic,” muttered John.

  “What are you going to do with him?” said Cynthia.

  “The same that he was going to do to us.”

  John squeezed the trigger. The bullet struck Drew in the forehead. John’s aim had gotten good. Sure, he was close to the target. But he was also a beginner.

  Drew’s smile fell off his face. His body crumpled to the ground. The corpse lay there, slumped, blood pouring down the front of his face. The eyes were rolled back, lifeless.

  “What about Derek and Sara?”

  “Shit, I don’t know. Do we go after them?”

  “They would have done the same for us, right?”

  “I don’t know about that. Remember how they wouldn’t listen to us about security? About guns? And about this piece of work here?”

  John pushed the toe of his boot against Drew’s corpse.

  John didn’t want to go after Derek and Sara. It meant risking his own life at the expense of others who hadn’t been willing to take care of themselves.

  “Shit,” said John. “We can’t leave them.”

  “I know,” said Cynthia. “We’ve got to go for them.”

  “Come on.”

  They made their way across the small clearing. The branches were thick at the sides. John pushed his way through. He could see a path of broken branches, where the other guys had pushed their own way through.

  “We can follow their trail pretty easily,” said John. “It goes without saying that we’ve got to be careful.”

  “They don’t have guns, though. We’ve got the advantage.”

  “They have guns now. Remember? They’ll have had time to go through Derek and Sara’s packs. Guns and ammo. That’s what they’re going to have.”

  “Shit.”

  John shrugged. “Fortunately, I bet we’re better shots than they are at this point.”

  “They’re criminals. Don’t you think they know how to use a gun?”

  “Probably, yeah. But they’re probably bad shots.”

  “That’s not enough to risk our lives on.”

  “Yeah, but that’s what the breaks are. The other option is leaving Derek and Sara to their own fate.”

  Cynthia seemed to consider it for a moment.

  “I guess we can’t,” she said finally.

  “Nope.”

  The going was hard. Even with the path having been blazed, so to speak, ahead of them, it was a real slog. The underbrush was thick and their boots sank into ground. Instead of being firm, the earth was soggy, draining their energy. />
  They still had their packs with them, and they were heavy. They couldn’t have left them back in the clearing, for fear that someone would take them.

  After half an hour, John and Cynthia were exhausted. They stopped for a moment. Both were panting with exertion, and sweating profusely. Sweating meant losing a lot of water. So far they’d tried to avoid sweating too much. But they didn’t have that luxury now.

  “Come on,” said John. “We’ve got to keep going.”

  “Yeah, but where?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s no more trail.”

  John looked where Cynthia was pointing. She was right. There were no broken branches. No heavy footprints. The terrain was changing. The ground was firmer from this point forward, and the branches weren’t as thick.

  “Shit, what do we do now? They could have gone in almost any direction.”

  “I don’t know.”

  It was hard not to feel discouraged. It was the mission they shouldn’t have been on in the first place, and now it had led to a dead end. Except that it wasn’t just a dead end. It was the start to a journey that might have no end. They might set off in one direction, and simply never find Derek and Sara. They might walk in exactly the opposite direction.

  “This would be a hell of a lot easier with cell phones,” said John.

  Cynthia laughed. She seemed surprised at her laughter, and maybe a little embarrassed, as if she shouldn’t have laughed, considering the direness of the circumstances.

  She looked up at John.

  “It’s fine,” said John, starting to laugh himself. “We’re screwed. And if it weren’t tragic, it’d be funny.”

  “It’s a fine line, I guess.”

  “So where do we go?”

  Cynthia shrugged.

  Suddenly, off in the distance, came an ear-piercing scream.

  John and Cynthia looked at each other.

  John’s grip tightened on his gun.

  Cynthia took hers from her holster.

  “Come on.”

  16

  Miller

  They’d tied something to Miller’s finger. Some kind of simple tourniquet. It seemed to have stopped the blood.

  The pain was there. Weird pain. Strong and powerful, but not acute. It pulsed, coming and going in intensity.