The 1000 Souls (Book 2): Generation Apocalypse (12 page)

“Attack the Loop before they’re ready to attack us. Take this Vlad out the way you took out Vlad the Scourge.”

“Oh, come on.” Joyce slammed her mug of beer down on the table, sloshing brown. “This is totally different. It’s not like we can all just pile onto a few buses and drive across the continent anymore. Chicago might as well be the moon.”

“She can fix stuff like that. If you can get buses. I mean, there must be some up here somewhere. If you can get to Duluth, the highway’s good from there. We keep it clear.”

“And how do we fuel these buses and feed our people when we get there.” Joyce looked angrier by the second, and Tevy cringed under the onslaught.

“I don’t know. I figured she’d sort that out with you when the time comes. Look, I’m just a runner and a scout, and all.” He took a gulp of the beer, wondering why anyone liked this bitter taste, and wiped the foam from his lip. Disgusting drink. He’d prefer a nice glass of apple juice, but he didn’t want to offend his hosts.

“But she sent you.” Barry eyed him thoughtfully. “And you know a lot it seems. Where do you scout?”

“The Loop. I go in near dawn and come out after sun up. It gives me a chance to check out ripper numbers and traitor numbers. I hear things.”

Joyce leaned forward, and there was an intensity to her stare that baffled Tevy.

“You hunt rippers at night, don’t you. Why?”

Tevy shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious? I don’t want to just sit around while they kill or convert more people. Every ripper I kill saves hundreds.”

She turned to Barry. “Sound like anyone you know? It’s pretty eerie, isn’t it?”

Barry shook his head. “I don’t know. Sometimes, you know, we see what we want to see.” He turned his attention to Tevy. “Why doesn’t she just get help from closer to home, like from that National Guard colonel she’s chummy with?”

“He can’t help ’cause the rippers keep attacking his bases, too.” For the first time, it occurred to Tevy that these people weren’t all-seeing and powerful—that being so far up north they might not understand. “Do you how many people have died since you saved me?”

“Hundreds of thousands, we know,” said Joyce. “We monitor every channel.”

“Millions.” Tevy couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice because it was so obvious to him. Bishop Alvarez reminded them every Sunday and ordered them to pray for the dead. “Millions and millions. It’s not just the rippers, there’s the famines.”

“Were not idiots.” But Joyce frowned and exchanged a glance with Barry.

“We saw what happened in Thunder Bay and Atherley,” Barry said. “So we know it’s in the millions.”

Tevy had been taught to respect his elders, but the beer had lightened his head.

“So you know a lotta people offed themselves the first couple of years? You know what it’s like to smell the stink in some house you’re foraging through, knowing you’ll likely find a body hanging from the ceiling or lying on bed?”

“We’ve had some experience.” Joyce didn’t look angry now. In fact, she stared intently at Tevy and let him speak.

“I’ve seen thousands of bodies. It’s worse if they had pets, cause then they get eaten and you find bits of them rotting all over the house. Fidos, we call them. Worse than what’s left after the rats.”

His frustration grew, perhaps because the presence of Joyce took him back to that first night, the night his parents died, the first night of the rest of his life. “We could all die down there while you sit up here in your tower, with your electricity and all the old-world softies. I got little kids from the Brat Pack who ask me at night to tell them it’s gonna be all right, and I always tell them it will, that I’ll kill the rippers and keep them away from St. Mike’s.” He was shaking again, his passion burying his control. “I mean it! I won’t let them die. I won’t let them rippers take them. We desperately need your help. A thousand fighters could make a huge difference, if you don’t come too late.”

Barry held up one hand to stop him. “Settle down, settle down. You’ve made your point.”

Tevy hadn’t realized that he had stood, that he was leaning over, that his fist had been pounding the laminated tabletop.

“You’re tired and you’ve had a rough time.” Joyce’s voice was gentle this time, the voice you use with a crazy person. “You get some sleep and leave this to us.”

But Tevy wasn’t finished. If he could just make them understand! “There’s maybe two thousand around St. Mike’s, maybe twenty thousand souls living north of the Loop, but the rippers have probably got fifteen grand in traitors and way more in rippers. If we don’t hit ’em soon and hit ’em hard, they’ll kill or make slaves of every free human in Chicago. You have to come before it’s too late. Bobs says if we can take the Loop and hole up there, we can survive the coming storm.”

“What storm?” asked Barry.

“Rippers out of California. Don’t you guys hear anything on the radio? There’re millions of them out there. They’re hungry and they’re looking our way. Bobs says so. Says we’re going to need drastic action. She said it just like that, ‘drastic action.’”

Joyce turned to Barry. “What the hell would
she
consider drastic?”

“Damned if I know. What about you?” He pointed a finger at Tevy, who shrugged.

“She doesn’t tell me everything.”

Joyce nodded. “Don’t worry, she doesn’t tell anyone everything.”

Kayla had never seen so many buses in one place. Twelve of them were lined up along the side of the highway, all grimy from disuse. On the bus nearest her, someone had used their finger to write
WASH ME DUDE
in the dust of one of the windows. People milled around, shoving luggage into the open compartments in the bellies of the buses, hugging loved ones goodbye or shaking hands with friends, and checking weapons.

“I saw one of these in a gas station last year,” Kayla said to Rachel, who had come out to show off her baby and see Kayla on her journey. “I just assumed it was junk.”

“That was the idea.” Rachel seemed unaware that the baby was fussing in Kayla’s arms, working itself up to tears. “Those buses were another one of those secrets that Barry and Joyce’s Raiders kept. They had them stashed in garages all over Atherley, all over the county. I guess the idea was to have them ready in case we needed to evacuate if things went totally sideways.” She looked along the line of buses. “But now you’ll be gone, and we’ll be stuck here.”

Kayla rocked the baby, practically bouncing it in her arms, terrified that it would sense her fear and know that she was totally uncomfortable holding the little creature. What if she dropped it or something? At the first real cry, she shoved the bundle back into Rachel’s arms.

“Don’t worry.” Kayla tried not to show her relief at handing back the baby. “We’ll be back. I mean, Joyce’s Raiders and me anyway. I heard Joyce and Jeff promise Barry that.”

“I’m surprised you guys are going at all, but I guess we’ll all be breathing a bit easier here for a while, have some space to raise our families. I hear there’s like six hundred volunteers going, mostly single young men. Better pick a hubby while you’re down there, because it’ll be slim pickings up here after this.”

Kayla checked the magazine on her Uzi for the hundredth time. “I don’t know Rach. I’m not as brave as you, bringing a kid into this world with no guarantees it’ll grow up.”

“There never were guarantees. Kids got killed in car accidents, from falls, from cancer.”

“Now we’re lucky if we live long enough to get cancer.” Kayla cursed the words before she’d even finished. “Oh Rach, I’m sorry. I’m sure Justin will grow up strong and healthy here at the Keep.”

Rachel had lost none of her toughness over the years, but to Kayla’s surprised it now cracked. “Just you be sure to come back for his first birthday, okay?” Her lip quivered. “It’s been you and me since the end, until the baby that is. Now you’re with Joyce’s Raiders and going out into the world to do something, and I can’t imagine life without you.”

Kayla swept her up in a hug, careful of the baby between them and fighting to prevent the flow of her own tears. “I’ll be all right and I’ll come back. You’ll see. It’s going to be fine.” She patted Rachel on the back and stepped away, again checking the magazine on her Uzi.

“It’s full,” said Rachel.

Barry’s voice broke through the crowd. “Kayla.” He waved from two buses down, where he stood near the open door with Joyce and Jeff, the latter looking hung over. “A word, please.”

Kayla gave Rachel a peck on the cheek and trotted over, knowing that with the sun above the trees, Joyce must be anxious to get them on their road. Just as she reached them, Kayla saw the little hands of seven-year old Margaret holding on to Joyce’s thigh from behind. One blonde pigtail peeked out from the level of Joyce’s hip, also giving away the child’s hiding place. Kayla had forgotten about Joyce’s daughter. Surely, the child wasn’t coming along?

“Listen,” said Barry. “This kid, Tevy, he’s Bobs’ man, no doubt.” He crossed his beefy arms and studied Kayla to see if she understood. “I’m sure he’s a good fighter and all, but I want you to stick with him, keep an eye on him. There are things he doesn’t need to know.”

“What things?”

“None of your business.” Joyce picked up her daughter, an aggressive maneuver that the child interpreted as play.

“Turn me upside down!” she called.

“You’re too big for that, Mags.”

Jeff shook his head. “Be reasonable here, Joyce. She can’t keep him from knowing shit if she doesn’t know what the shit is.” He turned to Kayla. “We don’t want Bobs’ to know that Joyce has a daughter, okay? I know that’s weird, but just don’t mention Margaret, and if she does find out, tell her it’s really Alison’s daughter, okay, but Barry didn’t want anyone knowing she was having a baby so young.”

Margaret chose this moment to chase after another little girl, and they ran a weaving path through the piles of luggage lining the road adjacent to the buses.

Kayla fought to keep all the subterfuges straight. They weren’t to talk about Margaret, but if she did come up, they were to say it was Barry’s granddaughter, but that everyone was pretending it was Joyce’s because Barry was embarrassed that his daughter had a teenage pregnancy—his daughter, who was now married and eight months pregnant.

“Okay,” she said, her voice a tentative experiment. “Pretend, within pretend, within pretend.”

Jeff gave one of his mischievous winning smiles that had melted so many hearts. “Told you she was smart.”

But Kayla wasn’t done being smart. She had always assumed Jeff was the father, but they weren’t even the least bit like a couple or an ex-couple. Joyce and Jeff genuinely seemed to be just friends and comrades-in-arms.

“Who’s Margaret’s father?” Kayla asked.

The angry expression on Joyce’s face didn’t put Kayla off, and the sudden tension of everyone else in the little group told her she had hit a very important nerve.

“None of your fucking business,” said Joyce.

But it was too late. Kayla did the math, thought about who else Joyce had been close to nearly eight years ago and the fact that, as far as she had heard, there was only one man in line for sainthood down in Chicago. One martyr.

“It’s Bertrand Allan, isn’t it?”

Jeff actually reached out and held down the barrel of Joyce’s Uzi, as if he feared she would shoot Kayla.

“Keep your mouth shut,” Joyce said. “You don’t tell anyone.”

“I still don’t get why this is such a big deal. So you and Allan did it before he died.”

Jeff held up one finger to quiet what was clearly going to be an angry retort from Joyce. Kayla decided that it was a true sign of the trust of their friendship that Joyce nodded and let Jeff speak.

“Bobs has made Bert out to be some super martyr. During the famines she constantly reminded people to be like him, to go out and kill rippers and sacrifice themselves if necessary. It was more than just her publicity stunt. It helped rally people around her, to point to the Savior of Chicago and say that thanks to him everything would be okay if they could just survive one more starving winter. It would be a disaster for her and Alvarez if Bert turned out to be less than perfect.”

“Okay,” Kayla said. “I can be very good at keeping my mouth shut.”

Barry nodded. “Good, but Kayla, I don’t want this Tevy kid knowing anything more about the Keep than necessary either. Don’t tell him about the backdoor or the generator or the mine or anything else. You never know who’s going to end up a ripper, whether they’re the type or not.”

“Got it. I ride by him and isolate him.”

But Joyce wasn’t satisfied. “Especially,” she said, skewering Kayla with her glare, “don’t tell him about the man you met in the bottom of Atherley College.”

Now Kayla was confused, because she didn’t recall meeting a man who wasn’t from the Keep, but as she reviewed those crazy moments in the fight, she suddenly understood and she whispered his name. “You mean Bertrand Allan.”

Jeff whistled, and Barry turned away for a moment to look up at his Keep and mutter, “Jesus Christ, she knows.”

“At least she had enough sense to whisper.” Jeff’s own voice was so low that it was barely above a whisper.

Joyce looked like she wanted to rend her limb by limb, and Kayla involuntarily clutched her Uzi close to her stomach.

Joyce pointed a finger right between Kayla’s eyes, less that an inch from her head. “That is our deepest secret. No one must know, ever, about him. Let Bobs have her fantasy hero. Let her have her martyr.” Her voice rose into a strangled crescendo. “Do you understand?”

Jeff reached out and pulled down Joyce’s hand. “Whoa, dude. I think she gets the point. Give her some credit.”

“So much rides on this.” Joyce still looked furious. “We can’t control him and now this.”

Suddenly, Kayla understood that she wasn’t the main problem. “Look,” she said. “My lips are sealed and the last bullet’s for my brain, so you don’t have to worry about me passing secrets to rippers.” She held up the Uzi, aimed for the sky, and pointed to the full magazine for emphasis.

Joyce nodded. “Remember that promise.”

She looked like she wanted to say more, but at that moment Alison St. John, her belly showing every month of her pregnancy, chased Margaret up to Joyce. Alison was there to take Margaret back into the Keep for breakfast, but she didn’t want to go. More importantly, she wanted very much to go on the bus with her mother. Kayla used the resulting tears and screams as an excuse to withdraw, and she headed along the line of the buses looking for Tevy.