Pennsylvania Omnibus (12 page)

Jed and Dawn ran along an alleyway
with Ducky’s team, and gradually a protective formation of TRACE fighters took
shape around Jed.  The troops began barking to one another in staccato bursts
of commands, signals, and responses that everyone else in the group understood,
even if Jed found it hard to make heads or tails of any of it.  Out in the
open, TRACE worked like a well-oiled machine as they fled the scene of the
destroyed antique shop.

Jed was impressed at the discipline displayed by the team
as they moved deliberately and as clandestinely as possible through town.  When
the whole group reached a good chokepoint in a darkened alleyway, the unit that
was surrounding Jed and Dawn pushed forward and took cover behind a series of
large dumpsters while the rest of the squad scattered and took positions on
both sides of the alley. 

Two of the men scaled an ancient fire escape and Jed
watched as Pook walked out into the middle of the alley.  Pook pulled something
out of his pocket, fiddled with it a moment, then dropped it on the ground and
ran for cover.

From his position behind the dumpster, Jed finally made
out what it was that Pook had dropped on the ground.  It was the bloody BICE
unit that Donavan had cut from his own head before he died.  Pook must have
attached some sort of battery to the device, which would have reactivated the
signal.  Dawn pushed Jed further in behind the dumpster and everyone went
silent as they waited.  Jerry, Dawn, and Billy had formed what seemed to Jed
like a protective wall in front of him, and he could barely see what was
happening over the backs and heads of his defenders.  He also noticed that
Billy took Dawn’s hand for a second, but she turned her hand loose and thrust
it into her pocket.

It seemed as though minutes passed, but it was probably
only seconds before the TRACER unit that had attacked the antique shop came
hovering around the corner from an adjacent street.  A glowing missile fired
from the drone destroyed the BICE unit as it lay on the ground, and tracking
lasers began scanning the alley for signals or targets.

The men on the fire escape and those hidden in place in
the alley opened fire on the TRACER unit before it could lock on to any other
target, and a well-placed shot coming from one of the elevated positions struck
the drone right above its laser-sighting lens.  The machine hummed for a moment
and shook with violence, spinning drunkenly as it attempted to maintain level
flight, before it exploded and a thousand pieces of high-tech shrapnel
scattered around the alley.  The largest portion of the TRACER drone caromed
down the alley like a beach ball until it bounced off of the dumpster that
shielded Jed and his defenders from the battle.

Once again, the team wordlessly snapped into motion and
Dawn was pushing Jed from behind out into the alley.  Pook pulled on a heavy
glove and he and Ducky began to remove smoking parts from the damaged portion
of the drone, stuffing the parts into a backpack.

When Pook and Ducky were done stripping the drone, the
team formed back up, and in moments they were all moving eastward again,
leapfrogging forward in groups of two or three as they crossed the open and
seemingly abandoned streets of the City on their way toward the river.

Ten minutes later, the squad gathered together outside a
darkened tavern.  The faintest hint of the coming morning was only then
touching the eastern sky—or at least the bit of it that could be seen between
city buildings.  The tavern was still shrouded in darkness, and since most of
the streetlights had been extinguished due to the rebel offensive, the squad
was able to gather near the door of the tavern without worrying about alerting
anyone who might be in the area, or peeping out the windows of nearby
buildings.

Above the door where the team was gathered, the name of
the tavern was written in Old English script, and Jed studied it with
interest.  If it weren’t for the things he’d been through in the last few days,
he might have laughed…

Ye Olde World English Tavern.
  Didn’t that name
just say it all?

Pook knocked on the door while sentries moved into
position on both ends of the block.  One of Ducky’s men, with a long rifle
slung over his shoulder, scaled the building across the street from the tavern
with the skill and agility of a trained mountain climber, and in under a minute
he was peering down at the rest of his team from the roof of the opposite
building.

A dark figure came to the door, and after pleasantries
were exchanged, Pook, Dawn, Ducky, Jed, and the remaining soldiers from Ducky’s
unit all filed into the tavern.

Two of Ducky’s men helped a few of the bar employees as
they darkened all the windows before lanterns were lit throughout the tavern.
The man who’d opened the door to let them in stepped behind the bar for a
moment and returned with a handheld electronic device that he held up in front
of Pook.

“Sweep ’em all,” Pook said.

As the man activated the device, Pook noticed that Jed and
Jerry were looking at it curiously.

“BICE scanner,” Pook explained. “Detects TRIDs, too. It’s
crazy expensive and highly illegal.  We keep one here because most of our
operational planning takes place here.  There are only two other functional
scanners in the whole resistance, as far as I know.  We couldn’t afford to lose
one of these like we just lost my antique shop.”

Wordlessly the man began to scan everyone in Pook’s party
with the device. He gestured to the two Transport officers, Conrad and Rheems.
“What about those two?”

“They’ve turned their units off,” Pook replied.  “It’s a
workaround we came up with a few months ago.  Sweep ’em anyway, though.  Make
sure they aren’t broadcasting.”

The man scanned Conrad and Rheems with the machine, and
nodded affirmatively to indicate that they were clear.

 Jed would later learn that the tavern owner—the man with
the scanning machine—was a respected veteran resistance officer named Jeff
Wainwright.  Jeff and his people never asked any questions, and the bar was
virtually silent as Jeff went from person to person, scanning them from head to
toe.

The silence gave Jed his first chance to think, really
think, since this whole thing began. Since arriving in the City, he’d witnessed
three men murdered right in front of him.
Because
of him. Was it only
three men? 
Maybe it was four
. Or had there been more? Jed didn’t even
know. That realization filled him with shame.  Was he losing his identity?  His
humanity? 
How can human life
, he thought,
become so cheap?
  The
questions piled up like the firewood he would stack just outside the back door
back home.  Why were these people helping him?  Why were they concerned at all
about a young Amish immigrant?  Strangers—the English—putting their lives and
futures at risk so that a farmer could make it to the Amish Zone? None of these
questions had answers, or at least none of them had any answers that he could
fathom.  No one had asked him what he thought.  No one had asked him his
opinion or permission for anything at all.  It was disconcerting to be swept
along by events like a leaf floating down a stream.  And were these deaths
somehow being registered to his account?  Perhaps that was the biggest question
of them all.

“I should just go turn myself in,” he said quietly.

Pook spun to face him. “Excuse me?”

“Too many people have died to protect me,” Jed said. 
“This has to stop.”

“This has to stop, does it?” Pook said.  “What are you
thinking?  Do you think you’re on a buggy ride in beautiful Amish Country,
Jed?”

Jed stood silently, his eyes downcast.

Agitated now, Pook squared up with Jed and then poked him
in the chest with his finger.  “Listen, pal.  You’re right.  We’ve already lost
some good men and my whole antique shop for you.  I’m outed, because they now
know that I owned that shop.  We’re all fully invested in getting you out of
town, so you can stop with all that crybaby nonsense right now.  Don’t you even
think
about surrendering yourself.  You do what I say, when I say it. 
I’m not sure I understand all the ramifications of what just went down, but the
whole resistance is at risk until we get you into the AZ, do you understand
me?”

Jed nodded.  “Yes, I understand.  And I’ll do what you
say.  But I didn’t ask for any of this.  I don’t even know what’s happening, or
why all of this is going down.  No one has told me anything.”  He looked Pook
in the eye.  “Just don’t pretend you’re doing this for me.  You’re not.  You
don’t even know me.  You’re doing it for reasons of your own, and I can
appreciate that, even if I don’t agree with what you do.  Once and for all
though, I’d like you to get it through your head that I haven’t asked for you
to do
anything
for me.  Our people believe that God is sovereign over
everything that happens, and if He raises up a deliverer to help us, then that
is His business.  If you kill someone, or if someone working with you dies, it
didn’t happen because of me.  Everyone makes their own choices and decisions
and has their own motivations, and I haven’t asked anyone to sacrifice
themselves for me.  I just want to get home, and I would rather not be the
cause of anyone else getting killed.”

“God, huh?” Pook said as he took a long draw from the
cigarette.  “Well, I’m not doing this for
him
, either.”

“Your call.”  That was all Jed could say to that.

Pook shook his head, and spoke again with a softer tone. 
“We’re going to get you home, Jed.  I just pray that all of this is worth what
it costs.  I’m just a soldier.  I take orders like everyone else here.  So
let’s just all do what we have to do and get this mission finished.”

Half an hour later, the team had pulled several of the
tables together to form one long conference table and Pook was addressing the
assembled mass of rebels, briefing them all on the plan that was about to
unfold.

“I can’t tell you how difficult the next few hours are
going to be.  Our plan is workable, but flawed.  It relies on precision timing,
and to be frank with you, there are a whole lot of unknowns and things that can
go wrong.  I’m going to need you all to listen closely, and to know with
certainty what you’re expected to do and when.

“The first thing you need to know is that Hugh Conrad is
going to put Jed on a secure airbus, alone.  The airbus will exit the city over
the river via the bridge air gate.”

Ducky’s hand went up almost immediately.

“They’ve already got an APB out on the kid, Pook.”

“We know,” Pook said.  “That means that we need a window
of time when the computer doesn’t know that it’s supposed to be searching for
him.  And if there’s one thing we know about Transport, it’s that Transport
officials don’t know anything the computer doesn’t know.”

“Will the bridge even be open, you know, with the
offensive going on and all?” Dawn asked.

“The offensive is basically over.  It was planned to
culminate at first light, and first light is right about now.  Still, the
bridge will be open to Transport officials only.  That’s what we’re
expecting.”

“How’re you going to arrange for this blind window?” Ducky
asked.

“We’re going to hack Transport.  Rheems is going to stay
here and use Jeff’s equipment. We know how to do it, and we know it’ll be
successful.  We just don’t know for how long.”

“What’s the probability that they don’t make it over the
bridge before Transport figures out they’ve been hacked?” Dawn said.

“Fifty-fifty,” Pook said.

“That’s encouraging,” Conrad said with a nervous laugh.

“Listen,” Pook said with his hands up in the air.  “I’m
going to need you all to pipe down for just a minute while I brief you. 
There’ll be time for questions afterwards, okay?” Pook began walking now,
circling the table, looking each man or woman in the eye as he walked.  Heads
nodded, so Pook continued.

“This thing is going to have to be timed perfectly. 
Rheems will hack in and try to blind the system for long enough to get Jed on
an airbus headed for the AZ. Hugh, once you get him on the bus, you’ll need to
make your own way over the river.  You’re busted once they figure out that you
put Jed on the bus.  Don’t get caught on this side of the river after you get
the kid on the bus, got it?”

Hugh Conrad nodded his head, accepting the responsibility
and the implied danger that came along with his mission.

“We don’t figure he’ll get many miles into the rural zone
before Transport figures out what happened.  They’ll bring the bus down
immediately,” Pook said, “and lock it tight until a Transport team can go
extricate Jed from the bus.  We’ll have maybe ten minutes to get there
first.”

“But—” Ducky started, before Pook’s upraised hand silenced
him.

“As you all know,” Pook continued, “the rural zone between
the river and the AZ is peopled mostly by gangs and independent salvagers. 
There’s a strong possibility that they’ll have that bus cracked open in less
than two minutes.”

Ducky was nodding his head vigorously.  This was the
reason he’d tried to interrupt.

“That’s where the gold coin comes in,” Pook said, looking
at Jed now.  “You all know that private ownership of gold is forbidden. That
fact is precisely why gold is the preferred method of payment in the
ungovernable rural zones.  One gold coin should buy Jed here his safety—and if
not safety, then at least some time.  You still have the gold, Jed?”