A New World: Taken (32 page)

Lynn is on top of a Humvee surveying the area with a pair of binoculars.
 
A flock of crows heads across the lot on their way to a destination only they know.
 
They rise above a line of trees marking the south end of the large lot surrounding the mall and are lost from sight.

“Anything?”
 
I call out.
 
She shakes her head and continues her surveillance.
 
Lynn gives note of a pack of dogs trotting up one of the streets nearby but that is all she calls out.
 
The minutes pass without seeing a soul.

“There’s someone coming up the road on a bicycle,” Lynn calls out startling us from our reveries.
 
It’s not that we aren’t paying attention; it’s just that our thoughts meander when we’re still for a period of time.

“Wait, there’s a couple more behind also on bikes.
 
They just rounded the corner,” she adds.

We turn in the direction she is pointing and see four people pedaling with effort up a short hill leading to the mall.
 
They see us parked in the lot and stop.
 
The person in front points us out to the others as they catch up.
 
They start off again heading in our direction.
 
It soon becomes clear that it’s a man, a woman, and two children, if children is the right word.
 
They look to be in their early to mid-teens.
 
They pull up at the edge of the lot and the man pedals forward.

“Are you the ones who gave the announcement earlier?”
 
The man asks.
 
I can tell he is wary by the way he left what is apparently his family at a distance.
 
Not that it would do any good seeing we have vehicles but it’s a cautious move nonetheless.

“Yeah.
 
Nice to see someone else has made it.
 
I’m Jack,” I call out.

“I’m Calvin.
 
Well, people call me Cal,” he shouts back.
 
He doesn’t make a move toward us but stays in place straddling his bike.

“You’re welcome to join us, have a bite to eat, or just chat.
 
You and the others with you won’t be harmed,” I say.

I see some hesitation but he lays his bike down, points to the others telling them to stay put, and walks into our circle.
 
We shake hands and introductions are made.
 
Gonzalez brings over a MRE and hands it to Cal.
 
He tells us of their story of barricading their second story apartment and surviving night after night of night runners.
 
He doesn’t use the term night runners but picks up on it as we mention it.
 
Each day was filled with scrounging what they could from the corner marts and gas stations and repairing any damage to their fortifications.

We give a short version of our experiences in return.
 
He waves his family over following and we are introduced to Janet, his wife, Peter, his fourteen-year old son, and Mary, his seventeen-year old daughter.
 
They each take a MRE and devour the contents in no time flat.
 
They agree to come with us as the thought of shelter without the nightly attacks is very much agreeable to them.
 
Cal tells us it was only a matter of time for them and they feel lucky to have made it this far.
 
There were a few others holding out in the same complex but they were overrun a while ago.
 
As far as they know, they are the only ones left.

His conversation is interrupted by the sound of a vehicle approaching.
 
A blue king cab pickup truck pulls into the lot with people piled in the bed.
 
They pull to a stop just outside of our circle and seven people exit from the bed and interior.
 
Again, introductions are made and we find that they are group of people that came upon each other while foraging and holed up in an aircraft hangar during the night.

The afternoon passes without a sign of anyone else.
 
That’s all we find on this first outing; eleven people but that’s more than I expected.
 
Cal and his family, along with some of the others who rode in the bed, board one of the buses.
 
Simon, the driver of the truck, does not want to part with his truck so he drives behind the buses as we make our way back to Cabela’s.
 
I inform Drescoll of our find and he passes it along to Bannerman and Frank.

Bannerman is present at the entrance to greet the newcomers as the bus pulls under the covered entrance.
 
The rain has started again and we trudge through puddles after parking our vehicles in the lot.
 
The crews working in the fields make their way through the mud and grass.
 
I note the semi’s parked in a row on one side of the lots having apparently finished with the day’s training.
 
I would say the sun was setting low in the west but there is no sign of it.
 
The clouds cover us delivering their droplets in showers.
 
The sky begins to get a darker shade of gray as our day winds to an end.

Our meeting that night is just a recap of the day with Lynn throwing in that phase two training for the first group will begin in the morning after the team training and formation.

“So, what’s the plan for those who finish the training?
 
Are we planning on throwing them on existing teams, using them as replacements, hopefully we won’t have to deal with that, or creating new teams?”
 
Lynn asks.

“I guess we should probably cover that.
 
My initial thought is that we have everyone trained as some form of militia, so to speak, but the ones that excel or want to be on teams can be considered.
 
We’ll need more than just armed teams running around.
 
What do you think?”
 
I ask.

“I’m with that thinking.
 
Train everyone that comes in but they’ll have their own tasks or work groups run by Bannerman.
 
The ones that want to be and qualify for a team should be put on one.
 
Although we have eight teams now, we’ve found times, like those coming up, when we’ve been spread pretty thin,” Lynn answers.

“So we denote who is ready to lead a team and form others when we have people ready right?”
 
I ask.

“That sounds like a good plan to me.
 
I know for one that Jordan is ready,” Drescoll says.

“What about Gonzalez?”
 
Lynn asks.

“Yeah, she’s ready but I’d like to leave her in place as she pretty much leads Red Team when I’m not there,” I answer.

“Okay, I think Watkins mentioned something about Cressman and that she may be ready,” Lynn says.
 
“We’ll fill out the teams as we need and as people become available.”

“Let’s keep in mind that we need others to work in other areas.
 
This isn’t only about filling and creating teams,” Bannerman states.

“Agreed.
 
So we keep it to those that want to and excel in the training,” Lynn says.

“I’ll leave that to you then,” I say.

“Yeah, gee, thanks, Jack,” Lynn says as yet another thing is heaped on her already busy plate.

Bannerman clears his throat to change the subject and adds, “Well, we finished the fences today and will be starting on the structures tomorrow.
 
I’ll need some people to head out with flatbeds to pick up a great deal of lumber from the surrounding yards.
 
And some others to start taking the greenhouses down.
 
We won’t be able to put up more concrete pads until the rain clears.
 
The training today with the trucks went well and they should be able to make their way down the road without dropping transmission pieces all over.
 
We still have some work on backing up with a trailer but I don’t foresee that being a great problem tomorrow.”

“Jack, I have something that’s been bugging me.
 
Well, not exactly bugging me per se but rather that’s been on my mind,” Drescoll says and looks at Robert and Bri before continuing.
 
“Forgive me if this comes out wrong but didn’t you think that was, what was her name, oh yes, Julie.
 
Didn’t you think that was her in the house when you told your story of getting Robert and Bri?”

“Yeah, I thought it was for sure but I’m guessing I was wrong and not for the first time,” I answer.

“What if you weren’t wrong?
 
I talked some with her and there seems to be a huge gap in her memory,” Drescoll states.

Silence settles among the group as the ramifications of what he is saying is slowly absorbed.
 
Bri tilts her head and looks at me in askance.
 
Robert stares with his mouth open slightly and turns looking for his mom.
 
The others have a glaze wash over their eyes as they draw inwards thinking of what Drescoll’s question implies.

“I just had to be wrong, that’s all.
 
We would have seen others I think if that were possible.
 
I mean, we’re talking about a genetic alteration.
 
I don’t know but that doesn’t just disappear, does it?”
 
I say but not terribly sure of what I’m talking about.

“Think about it,” Drescoll pushes on.
 
“That means she would have to have some sort of antibodies or something.
 
If that were true, couldn’t we use that to reverse the whole process?”

“I am no physicist or geneticist.
 
Or kind
ofany
‘cist’ for that matter.
 
I wouldn’t know the first thing about that.
 
Or how to use it or synthesize it.
 
I don’t know that anyone here would either.
 
That’s a pretty big ballgame we’re talking about.
 
And we’re not even sure that’s what happened.
 
She could have just hit her head or something.
 
I wouldn’t even know how to check for something like that,” I answer.
 
“Anyone have anything even remotely close to an answer?”

Everyone shakes their head.
 
Frank said he’d ask around to see if anyone had any expertise but I’m highly doubtful.
 
Anyone with that kind of knowledge would be working for the CDC or some research facility although the University of Washington had a pretty good medical department and medical research going on.
 
My knowledge is frightfully small in that area other than knowing that genetic changes are possible.
 
One only has to look outside at night to know that.
 
All I know about it could be crammed into a thimble with room left over for a finger.

A thought runs through my head that we’ve all seen too many movies about this very thing and it seems so easy on screen.
 
In real life, like many things, not so true.
 
My realm of expertise on the subject would be to draw someone’s blood and shoot it into one of the night runners and see what happened.
 
I mean besides pissing it the hell off.
 
Nope, not into running around with a pissed off night runner just to see what his or her reaction would be.
 
The ramifications that Drescoll has brought up is making my head hurt again.
 
I check my ears for a trickle of blood.

“Well, one thing we aren’t going to do is experiment with people but if we do find someone with some knowledge, I’d be happy to hear them out,” I say after another long bout of silence.
 
We don’t have a final word but just drift away as our thoughts about what Drescoll said almost paralyzes any other process.

The next morning dawns with mostly clear skies.
 
It’s obvious it rained through the night but the clouds have parted leaving only faint reminders they were there.
 
A few clouds still gather but for the most part, it’s another nice day coming our way.
 
The sun glistens off the wet pavement as I gather the teams together before our daily training.

“I just want to let you know that I haven’t forgotten that you have families as well,” I begin addressing the group in a semi-circle around me; some kneeling on the still wet parking lot while others stand cradling their M-4’s.
 
“I plan to take the 130 out when we can afford the time but it’ll have to be soon.”
 
I see several faces light up.

“Now, there are limits we have to observe.
 
First, any home or place we go has to be within 100 miles of a military airfield.
 
We have to have JP-4 available.
 
We can obviously only use the daylight and we have to be able to get there, search, and return by nightfall.
 
We have to stay west of a line running from the middle of Texas due north to the eastern border of North Dakota.
 
The majority of nuclear power plants lies east of that line and has most likely rendered the eastern part of the country inhospitable,” I continue.

Several faces fall at the news of the limitations.
 
McCafferty raises her hand.
 
“Sir, exactly what is the limit for Texas?”
 
She asks with a hint of trepidation in her voice.