Radio Hope (Toxic World Book 1) (15 page)

He wasn’t here to make friends anyway. He was here to get Olivia associate status and find Radio Hope.

And keep these threefrom getting back with the informatio
n
, he reminded himself.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Where did they go?”

Annette
didn’t really expect an answer to her question because none was obvious.

They had crept up the pass, keeping off the road and as much out of sight as possible. They had made agonizingly slow progress but fear of bumping into the cultists urged them to play it safe.

Just before noon they had come across the campfire they’d seen the previous night. It lay at the mouth of a little side canyon. A heap of coals and a few half-burned logs sat in a ring of stones. Annette touched the coals. They were still warm. Of the people who had lit them there was no sign.

“Looks like there were about a dozen of them,” Mitch said once he’d made a circuit of the fire. “See? There’s where one slept, and another.”

Annette noticed the areas where the sparse grass was pressed down and where it had been cleared of sticks and rocks. Yeah, about a dozen.

Mitch isn’t as dumb as he looks
,
she warned herself.

For the hundredth time that day
the baker pulled out his binoculars and scanned the surrounding area.

“Nothing,” he shrugged.

“Could they have gone down to the river?” Ha-Ram asked.

“Maybe,” Jackson said. “Or maybe they went
back to the main body to report.”

“We could have passed them and not noticed,” Ha-Ram replied, looking
nervously over his shoulder.

Mitch shook his head. “I doubt it.”

“Anyway I don’t like it,” Annette said. “Let’s look at the map and see how much further we have to go.”

Jackson pulled out the topo and laid it on the ground. Annette noticed that he gave Ha-Ram a suspicious look and put his hand over the map key.

“We’re about here,” he said, pointing. “Around the next bend is another bridge and from there it’s less than a mile before we’re close to that spot you want to go to. There’s a little side canyon near there. I bet they’re, I mean it’s, somewhere in this maze of canyons.”

Just as Annette was puzzling out the maze of wavy lines, Jackson folded up the map and put it underneath his shirt.

“At least it’s close,” Ha-Ram sighed.

“As long as the next bridge is
n’t busted like the last one,” Annette said.

They continued on their way
, trying to stay out of sight. At times the road cut along cliffs and they were forced to walk along it in full view. Annette felt like someone had painted a target on her chest. From the looks on the others’ face they felt the same.

Annette couldn’t stop thinking about Pablo. If it wasn’t for the offer of associate status and getting him inside the walls she would have never agreed to go on this mission. What was happening back there? The Callahans seemed like good people, everyone said so, but she always hated leaving Pablo behind. And with the Righteous Horde on its way. . .

Annette pushed those thoughts aside. The best thing she could do for her son was to get back in one piece, and that would require all her concentration.

The second bridge was still standing, but only just. It had been hit by a bomb or a m
issile near its center and one lane had been knocked away. The other was cracked, with rusted rebars poking through the crumbled concrete. The group stopped and looked at it. Annette looked down.

And down.

The gorge here was sheer and far deeper than before, their constant ascent during the morning having taken them further above the river. Annette’s mouth went dry as she looked at the thin ribbon of blue far below that she knew to be a wide river.

“Well. . .we know they didn’t go down,” Ha-Ram said.

Mitch let out a deep sigh. “If they went across, we can too.”

“Anyone scared of heights?” Annette asked.

“I’m scared of these heights,” Ha-Ram said.

“Don’t look down,” Mitch
advised.

“I’ll have to look down. Look how crumbly it is,” Ha-Ram said.

“Yeah, watch your step everybody,” Mitch said. “I’ll go first. I’m the heaviest. If it holds my weight you got nothing to bitch about.”

Jackson surveyed the nearby slopes. “You better hope the Righteous Horde doesn’t have any good hunting rifles.”

“They could have wiped us out in a ton of good ambush spots way before we got here,” Mitch said. “But yeah, I’ll hurry.”

Mitch crouched low and walked with deliberate speed out onto the bridge. Near the cent
er was a span of about ten yards where deep fissures spiderwebbed the concrete and the way narrowed to only a few feet. Mitch slowed down as he got to that part and picked his way over the worst of cracks. Annette’s breath caught when a piece of concrete near one of his feet sheared off and plummeted into the gorge below.

Annette watched it
disappear into the distance, the only sign of its impact being a white dot in the river as it impacted the water. She listened for the sound but never heard it.

“He’s across,” Ha-Ram said, the words coming out in a great gust that showed the technician had been holding his breath.

Mitch waved them over. Annette looked at the other two. Jackson had grown pale.

“Ladies first,” Ha-Ram
said with a mock bow.

Annette stepped cautiously onto
the span of concrete. She’d never been particularly afraid of heights, but damn. Ha-Ram was right; there was no shame in beingafraid o
f
thes
e
heights.

The first part was no problem. T
he road was broad enough that if she kept her eyes trained on her feet she didn’t see the heart-stopping drop to either side. But then she got to the place where the bomb had hit and one-and-a-half lanes had disappeared. The hairline cracks became wider, and to either side at the edge of her vision the vast empty space yawned beneath her. The way narrowed, and narrowed.

A gust of wind buffeted her just as she was taking another step. She wobbled and let out a little cry. She got down on her hands and knees and stopped for a moment, catching her breath. The concrete felt rough and crumbly in her hands. As she crawle
d forward she found a loose section. She stopped and tested it, pushing it back and forth.

Annette looked back at Jackson and Ha-Ram waiting their turn and pointed with exaggerated emphasis at the spot.

If it cracked off someone could go right over the edge. She probably wouldn’t have felt it if she hadn’t touched it with her hands first. Mitch must have missed it by pure luck.

She edged away from the spot, and far too close to the other edge for her liking, and scuttled along as fast as she dared.

Soon the road widened and she could breathe easier. After a time she stood up and trotted to the other side.

“No sweat,” she said as she came up to Mitch.

Mitch gave her a wide-eyed stare. “Bullshit it wasn’t.”

Ha-Ram came next and moved across with surprising speed. That made Annette nervous. She got the impression he was trying to impress them, and that was plain stupid. He avoided the spot she’d indicated, however, and got across with no trouble.

Now it was Jackson’s turn. He stepped out slowly, his whole body stiff. Long before he came to the narrow part he got on his hands and knees and kept stopping every few feet to look around him.

“What’s he doing?” Mitch growled.

“Looks like he’s scared of heights,” Ha-Ram said.

“Oh, great,” Mitch moaned.

Jackson was approaching the narrow center of the bridge now and had all but stopped. He groped forward with his hands, testing every inch of the surface ahead of him before edging forward a little more. Annette held her breath as he came to the spot with the loose slab of concrete.

He tested it and Annette could see it wobble even from a distance.

Crap, it’s gotten looser.

Jackson tested the rest of the span in front of him and found it solid, but still he didn’t move.

Annette knew why. It was too narrow. She didn’t have a fear of heights and it freaked her out. For him it must have seemed impassable.

Mitch brought his hands around his mouth and bellowed, “Come on!”

“That’s not helping,” Annette said.

“We can’t wait here all day,” Mitch snapped.

Ha-Ram stepped a little onto the bridge. “Come on, Jackson. It’s OK. Just a little more and it widens out.”

“Get off the damn bridge!” Jackson
shrieked. “You’re adding weight!”

Ha-Ram put his hands up in a calming gesture and backed off.

“He’s panicking, we got to go get him,” Annette said.

Jackson moved forward a little onto the narrowest part of the span.

“You’re doing good, keep it up!” Ha-Ram called.

Jackson was lying flat on the concrete now, not daring to raise himself up even an inch. He wormed his way along, face pale and sweating.
He kept his arms and legs splayed out for maximum support.

He was almost across when the loose chunk of concrete shifted with an audible crack and angled down. Jackson wasn’t on it but it opened up a space just an inch to his side. He stopped, knuckles white.

“Come on!” Annette called. “It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re almost there.”

Jackson didn’t move.

“Aw, shit,” Annette said, shucking off her pack.

“What are you doing?” Mitch asked.

“Going to get him.”

“He’ll freak out of you go onto the bridge,” Ha-Ram said.

“He’s freaked out now.”

Annette hurried along the wide part of the bridge.

“I’m coming to get you!” she called to him.

As she approached the narrow center she slowed down and got on her hands and knees. Jackson lay frozen where he was,
eyes bugging, face drained of blood, the scar from his brand standing out as a crimson “B” on his ashen face. Suddenly Annette was reminded of Pablo during a thunderstorm.

“Hey,” she whispered. “Hey, it’s OK.”

She reached out a hand. “Come on.”

“C—can’t.”

“Yes you can. Come on.”

Jackson slid forward another inch and stopped when the loose slab next to him crackled and sank a little more.

Annette glanced over at it. If it fell, would the rest of this section fall with it?

“Hey, we got to go,” she said.

Jackson shook his head, and then gripped the pavement harder as if even that little motion might fling him off the precipice.

Gently Annette put a hand on his cheek. 

“Look, it’s all right. Everyone’s on your side,” Annette said in a calm voice, praying that Mitch didn’t take this moment to shout something stupid. “Imagine this was only five feet up. It would be no problem, right? Come on; just slide forward. See? I’m holding onto your shirt, if you start falling I’ll pull you back up, but you’re not going to fall. Just take it easy and slide on forward. There you go. Just another couple of feet.”

“Annette!” Mitch called out.

“Not now,” Annette whispered.

“Annette, hurry the fuck up!” Mitch shouted.

Shut up, already!

Jackson started shaking
. His locked-muscle terror had been replaced by an all-body shake, something far more dangerous considering where he was.

“Annette!” Ha-Ram called.

“Quiet!” Annette cried, exasperated.

The crack of a rifle
echoed through the gorge. Jackson jerked and tipped over the edge.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Marcus faced the Citizens Council, trying not to itch as the sweat trickled down his back. Clyde stood by his side and most of the citizens not manning the walls sat in the audience. Rosie sat front and center. She’d gotten there first and had unwittingly taken Abe Weissman’s usual seat. The Merchants Association were arranged all around her, Abe just two chairs away with arms folded on his chest and an irritated look on his face.

He’s about to get a hell of a lot more irritated.

Marcus looked back at Rosie and she gave him a reassuring smile.

Oh, honey, I don’t think you’re going to be smiling in a minute.

He looked around for Pablo and didn’t see him. He must be outside playing with that baseball of his. Marcus felt an almost irresistible urge to run out and play with him.

The room was silent save for the occasional cough or the squeak of a metal chair on the floor. Marcus realized he was stalling.

He cleared his throat, paused, and then began.

“I’ve called another citizens meeting because there’s been a change in our situation. The Doctor has fallen ill.”

Gasps and whispers echoed through the room. Rosie brought her hand to her mouth and went pale.

They really need him. Hell, I really need him.

He glanced at Abe and saw a calculating look. Marcus gulped and went on.

“The
Doctor named me as acting mayor. Clyde here was a witness.”

“I was.” Clyde nodded.

“And just before he fell ill The Doctor declared a state of emergency. That means that the mayor has special powers. Now the scavengers have said they won’t let in the farmers unless they can come in too. All of them, even the strangers. Now I can try and talk with them again but we don’t have the time. The Righteous Horde is coming through the South Pass and they’re just as many of them as the rumors say. Even with the scavengers we’ll be outnumbered.”

Marcus paused. Silence. Even Abe looked worried.

“So I’ve decided to concede to their demands.”

A roar of disapproval drummed his ears as everyone rose to their feet. Marcus and Clyde had to shout for a full minute before the crowd calmed down enough for them to be heard.

“If we don’t let them in everyone on the farms will be wiped out, as will everyone in the Burbs,” Marcus yelled. “All citizen property in the Burbs will be gone too. We don’t have enough food to survive a long siege without the farm and Burb supplies. It’s let the scavengers in or get wiped out. Clyde’s with me on this.”

Marcus turned to Clyde.

You are still with me on this, right?

Clyde hesitated for a second that seemed to stretch for hours, and then said, “It’s the only strategic alternative.”

A dozen people started yelling their objections. Marcus raised his hands again.

“Quiet, everyone. QUIET! As I said before, I’m acting mayor and this is an emergency s
ituation. I didn’t call you here to ask your opinion; I called you here to tell you what’s what. Now you got until tomorrow morning and I suggest you get busy. Get all your belongings locked away and keep your children in your houses. We’ll disarm the scavengers until the Righteous Horde gets here but there’s bound to be trouble. Clyde will have patrols in the city.”

As soon as he stopped talking everyone started shouting again.

“That’s all, folks! Meeting’s over! Quit yammering and get to work,” Marcus said. This whole thing was getting irritating. Did these people think he liked it any more than they did?

As Marcus stepped off the stage
Abe cut him off. Marcus merely sidestepped him and kept on going. He caught a glimpse of a supportive smile from Rosie and using that as fuel he sped out of there.

Ten minutes later he was standing outside the gate.

The scavenger with the broken nose, the one they called The Giver, walked up to him from the Burbs. They met halfway, perfectly exposed, Marcus realized, to rifle fire from both sides.

“Your daughter’s not with you?” Marcus said with surprise.

“He’s my son, and I wouldn’t put him in the line of fire.”

Marcus cocked his head. “My friend, you may be able to survive in the wildlands, you may be able to become some sort of messiah among the scavengers, you may even be able to hold the Burbs if we decide to attack you, but you really suck at hiding the fact that you have a daughter.”

“You got any business with me or are you just going to keep yapping?” the man snapped at him.

Marcus jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.

“See that guy with the machine gun up there? That’s Clyde. Clyde has a nervous disposition and an itchy trigger finger. He didn’t want me to come out here and he figures that if you get capped this little rebellion in the Burbs will fall apart.”

The old man scowled up at the wall for a moment, then turned back to Marcus.
“OK, threat made. Let’s get down to business.”

“How’s Ahmed?”
Marcus asked.

“Fine, you want to see him?”

“In a minute.”

“He wants some things from his house. Spare clothes and his prayer rug.”

“He can get them himself if this conversation goes the right way. Here’s the deal, and this is the only deal you’re going to get so give me a yes or no right now. Lift the siege immediately. We’ll let everyone into the city. Everyone. You’ll get let in starting tomorrow morning; we have to prepare first. Anyone suffering from the flu will be quarantined. Even you can see the sense in that. And anyone we don’t know will have to give up their guns until the Righteous Horde attacks.”

The scavenger nodded. “All right.”

Marcus almost fell to the ground weeping with relief. He was really bad with the tough leader act. He never could figure out how The Doctor did it.

“One thing, though,” the scavenger said.

Marcus caught his breath. The man went on.

“What’s the name of that bouncer in the bar, the Hispanic girl?”

“Annette Cruz?” Marcus replied, confused.

“You’re taking care of her kid, right?”

“Yeah,” Marcus replied slowly.

“I want you to take care of my kid too.”

Marcus blinked, “Huh?”

“I gotta go,” the scavenger said.

“What? Where?”

The scavenger shook his head. “That’s my business, not yours.”

“You cause a riot in the Burbs, hold our farmers for ransom, and now you’re just going to traipse off to God-knows-where and leave us to clean up your mess?”

The scavenger glowered at him. “You got it turned around. I cleaned up your mess.”

Marcus raised his hands in a helpless gesture. “You won’t even tell us your name! Why should we trust you?”

“Because you’ll have my daughter.”

Marcus blinked. The man’s overprotective nature was legendary in the wildlands, and Annette and Roy had seen it firsthand at $87,953.

What was he playing at?

“So do we have a deal?” the scavenger asked.

“All right.”

“I have a load of food I can give you for her keep,” the scavenger said.

“When will you be back?”

“Maybe in a week, maybe never. I intend to come back, though.”

Marcu
s snorted. Considering the guy was headed out into the wildlands with the cult on the prowl, that was as good an answer as he was going to get.

The scavenger glared at him.
“You touch her I’ll skin you alive.”

“I figured as much.
So do we have a deal?”

“Done.”

Marcus offered his hand and the scavenger took it in a bone-crushing grip.

“Roy and the other citizens with property in the Burbs want to come out and get their things.”

The scavenger nodded. “They won’t be harmed.”

“They won’t be harmed because they’ll have an armed escort.”

“Nobody will bother them.”

“Glad to hear it, because if anything happens, deal’s off.”

“Until tomorrow morning then.”

The scavenger turned and walked
away.

That
night was one of fevered preparation. Clyde organized the citizens and checked every available weapon. Even Marcus had to turn out with his old Henry .22 to have it inspected. That little formality came between checking that the citizens got everything inside the walls, taking a complete inventory of the food and what was coming in, organizing the arrangement of shipping containers and other shelter for the 3,000 people about to flood inside, listening to updates from Clyde’s radio, checking on The Doctor as he lay exhausted in bed, worrying about Roy who for some reason decided to stay overnight at $87,953, a brief dinner with Pablo and Rosie in which he spent a glorious ten minutes forgetting about the real world while holding forth on the rules of baseball to a rapt audience of one, and trying and failing to convince Abe and the rest of the Merchants Association to keep from stringing barbed wire around their houses and creating a fort within a fort.

The next day got
even busier. Just before dawn the Merchants Association barricaded themselves in their cordoned-off homes. Marcus had never noticed how they all lived in a set of closely grouped houses, and how all the houses stood bunched together so it was easy to block the gaps in between. They’d obviously thought about the possibility of the walls being breached, and had formed a backup plan that included only them.

Marcus decided not to waste his time trying to talk with them, even when Clyde came with the news that they wouldn’t be manning the walls.
They both had too much to do dealing with the influx from the Burbs.

The associates were easy to deal with. Most already had a home they were accustomed to stay at. The rest got spaces in the warehouse. The regulars among the scavengers were put in shipping containers unless they had decent tents of their own.

The newcomers were more trouble. Some didn’t want to surrender their weapons and got yelled at by The Giver and other members of the Burb Council until they gave in. Marcus was surprised to see Ahmed going through the crowd talking quietly to them, using a gentle manner to convince the most intransient among them.

Bein
g a healer gives him credibility,
Marcus realized
.
Even more than The Doctor’s got because Ahmed doesn’t have any power
.

About noon there was a crisis because Marcus had misjudged how much shelter everyone needed and they ran out. This was solved by some of the Burb residents who volunteered their houses. A huge crowd went out, dismantled them, and set them up within the walls.

The farmers started coming in later that afternoon, driving herds of bleating sheep and pushing carts piled high with sacks of grain and chicken coops. The animals were put in a large enclosure that had served them well on previous sieges, and the citizens helped offload the food into the warehouse. Clyde, of course, put guards at the entrance and had regular patrols passing through New City. The Merchants Association had their own patrols, keeping everyone a good distance away from their perimeter. Marcus told Clyde to avoid trouble with them. There was enough trouble already.

By dinnertime Marcus was almost fainting with exhaustion and there were still a million things left to do. The Doctor forced him to go home. He was feeling a little better and had made a brief appearance.

“Go,” The Doctor said. “I’ll stay out here and glad-hand the barbarians until you get some food in you.”

Marcus shuffled off home.
As he approached the house a baseball came flying out of the doorway. He caught it absently.

“You’re really good!” Pabl
o said, leaping down the front steps.

“I used to be
shortstop for the North Cape Ramblers.”

Pablo cocked his head and looked up at him
. “Who?”

“City-
state. Long before your time,” he said, tossing the ball back to the boy.

“Aunt Rosie says you’re always late for meals when The Doctor’s sick.”

Marcus nodded. “Yeah.”

The corners
of Pablo’s mouth turned down. “I have to share my room with Jessica now.”

“Who?”

“Some creepy guy with a bandage on his nose dropped her off.”

Marcus slapped his forehead. “Aw, crap.
I forgot about that.”

“We’re supposed to call her Jessie because she’s pretending to be a boy, but I could tell she was a girl right away.”

“You and everybody else.”

They went inside to find Rosie bustling about the kitchen singing to herself.

“There you are! Dinner’s been ready almost an hour. The children are getting hungry,” she said as she planted a big kiss on his cheek. She drew back to arm’s length and studied him. “My, you look tired. I’ll brew up some tea. Jessie’s all settled in with Pablo in the spare room.
Oh, and I’ve invited Catherine over for dinner, you know, Kevin and Rachel’s girl? They’re just the same age and I think they’d make great friends. They’re talking in the living room.”