Seven Days To Brooklyn: A Sara Robinson Adventure (23 page)

On the highway north of Vegas, Mac, Sara, and Aren continue traveling north to the unknown. Looking over at Aren, Mac can tell she is doing better, and it appears the insulin shot is working.
 

“How are you feeling?” After driving for an hour straight and the stress of the morning’s activity, Mac tries to break up the silence.
 

“I’m good,” Aren says. She is still overwhelmed with information overload, having never seen the outdoors, let alone the desert of Nevada. “Where are we going?”
 

“North,” Sara replies from the backseat.
 

“Why north?” It was another direct question from Aren, who has spun around in her seat looking right at Sara.
 

“Because south sucks and north is supposed to be better.”
 

Sara knows this is going to be a game of continual questions but is not bothered by the girl’s ignorance. Sara is overly intrigued, to the point that she fires off a question of her own.
 

“You lived in the facility all your life, right?”
 

“Oh, yes, along with all my sisters; we studied, learned judo, kung fu, and all kinds of martial arts.”
 

Still intrigued, Sara presses her for more information. “Why didn’t you go outside?”
 

Aren looks at her through uncaring, dull eyes. “The doctor said that we could not live outside. That we were special and if we went outside we would die. He said our body would not be able to defend itself from viruses.”
 

“I think you will be fine, as long as we stay ahead of the soldiers and away from flesh-eaters. Besides, Mac and I will take care of you. Right, Mac?”
 

“Yes, we sure will. You can stay with us all the way to Brooklyn; then, from there, we’re not sure what will happen.” Mac glances over from the driver’s seat, still pushing the buggy past highway speeds trying to put as much distance between them and the city as he can.
 

“Thanks.”
 

Sara’s mind is already hundreds of miles away thinking about Brooklyn as she stares across the desert. She wonders what the destination will hold for them and why it was so important that her father made a point of telling her to go there. In her earliest memories, she can’t ever remember going to Brooklyn when they traveled to the Pacific Northwest. They took many trips to Seattle, tours into the Cascade Mountains, and journeys out to see the grandeur of the Pacific Ocean, but they never stopped in the small, out-of-the-way, defunct town of Brooklyn Washington, the town that never became a town. A hole-in-the-wall destination made popular by the local tavern named after the town itself. The tavern, a bit rundown, more of a barn that has been repurposed into a viable drinking establishment, is the local watering hole for many fine citizens in the rugged hills just east of Aberdeen. The town itself is just a few buildings. An elementary school, a Catholic church, and a few houses line the single two-lane road that winds itself around the hills and opens up into a small valley that is Brooklyn.
 

Stirred back into reality, Sara turns back to the conversation with Aren.
 

“What else did you do in the facility?”
 

Aren turns back around to face Sara in the backseat. “Most days we would work with the doctors.”
 

“What kind of work?”
 

“They would take two or three of us at a time down to the lab, putting us in an empty room, shutting us inside, and have us talk to each other.”
 

Sara looks at her as though she has just gone crazy. “Talk to each other? What about?”
 

“We would talk about anything, you know, what we had for dinner, what life was like outside, that kind of stuff.”
 

Mac is quite amused by the conversation between the two girls and has to add in his own two cents. “Sounds like regular girl stuff to me.”
 

 
“Oh, yes. But the best part was how we were talking.”

Less enthused now, Sara is about to end this meaningless conversation and stares off in the distance when Aren speaks with her directly. Without saying it out loud, using telepathy, Aren starts talking to Sara.
 

“Just like this, Sara. I know, somehow, you can hear me without me speaking out loud.” Sara’s head snaps around quickly as she stares at Aren. Still talking with her mind, Aren shocks Sara. It’s a skill Sara has never used before, unaware of her telepathic ability.
 

“See, you can hear me and talk to me without using words.”
 

“How?” Sara’s lips don’t move. “How is this possible? I’ve never been able to do this.”
 

Smiling, Aren continues to explain how the facility helped them develop their special capacities and gifts. Through constant training, tests, and perseverance, some of the girls in the facility could delve deeply into the confines of the mind, unlocking the telepathy receptors in the brain. During the final days of testing, nearly all the girls had use of this new skill. Others could do more. Still using telepathy, Aren glances at Mac, who is unaware of the conversation that is going on right in front of him.
 

“You are part of me; we are the same. I don’t know how or why, but we are connected, just like the other girls in the facility.”
 

Speechless, Sara just sits there stunned. She knew her father was working on special projects with the U.S. government, but she did not know what they were or how she could possibly be involved.
 

Talking out loud again, Aren turns back around in her seat, moving her gaze back out across the desert that is whizzing by at seventy miles per hour. “Well, that was interesting, wasn’t it? I am sure we will have many more days to talk about that, won’t we?”
 

Confused, Mac just brushes it off as preteen chitchat, not giving it another thought. Still reeling from what just happened, Sara tries to remember back to her life in Texas with her father, a life that seemed so idyllic. She had everything: a large palatial estate, maid, gardener, and personal training coach for martial arts, weaponry, and survival training. She is wondering now if her father was preparing her for this new life all along.

TWO HOURS LATER
 

TONOPAH 12
 

“Look, a town up ahead.” Mac is ready to get out of the buggy for a few minutes to stretch his legs. “Maybe we can find something to eat and gas if we are lucky.”
 

“One can only hope so, Mac. Although we may be lucky enough to run into some more flesh-eaters.” Sara is not worried nor is she scared, although she brings up the harsh reality to him.
 

Talking with her mind, Sara tries to engage Aren. “When we get to town, we have to be very careful. There are bad people out here that want to do bad things to us.”
 

Aren ignores her. She does not seem to be concerned about what is up ahead as she continues to stare off in the distance, watching the tumbleweeds and cacti pass them by.
 

Not knowing whether Aren can hear her or not, Sara gets mad and yells at her through telepathy. “Hey, is it working? Can you hear a damn word I am saying?”
 

“Yes, I hear and see everything. You need to work on your patience.”
 

The twelve miles to the mining town of Tonopah disappear as the residential homes show up in front of them. Not much of a town even before the event, Tonopah is just as deserted and dusty as it was months before. Driving through town, they search for a fueling station or any abandoned vehicle that may provide some gasoline. Up ahead on the right-hand side of the two-lane street, a full-service gas station still advertising gasoline for two dollars and ninety-nine cents sits vacant. Rolling across the rubber tube that sends a signal to ring a bell inside, Mac pulls the buggy up to one of the two pumps out front.
 

“Here we are, ladies; keep your eyes open. Never know what we’re going to find; hopefully some gas and food.”
 

Jumping out of the back of the buggy, Sara walks up to the gas pump and lifts the nozzle out of its cradle, flipping the handle up to start the pump. The pump numbers spin, a model made way before digital and computerized pumps became the standard. Inside the pump, the motor whirs.

 
“I think it works.” Removing the filler cap, Sara places the nozzle down into the neck of the tank and squeezes the handle. “Hey, we got fuel.”
 

Overwhelmed by her newfound skill, Sara repeats her statement again, using telepathy. “I said, we got fuel.”
 

Aren, still sitting in the front seat of the buggy, turns her head to the right and leans out to look directly at Sara.
 

“That’s very nice, but you don’t have to yell. Besides, that is not all that we got; we got company, too.” She points over to the storefront at a small group of people who have gathered just inside the building.
 

Mac, unaware of the conversation going on between the girls, spots the group. “Uh, Sara, we may want to ask them if we can have the fuel or if they want to trade something for it.”
 

She looks over at Mac, still pumping gas, the pump dinging away as the gallons add up. “Sure, go ask them what they want for it.”
 

Not necessarily happy about being ordered to engage an unknown group, Mac walks around the buggy and approaches the group. Standing inside the building, mostly aging women, a few children, and a couple of elderly men watch Mac as he approaches.
 

“Howdy, we were wondering, if you didn’t mind, if we could get some of this fuel?” Mac continues walking closer to the group as he talks.
 

An elderly man steps around the group, taking a few steps toward Mac. “What you got to trade?”
 

The group moves around inside the building, attempting to look around the pump, wondering how many others there are with this tall stranger.

One of the children in the group, a boy around the age of five, walks out of the building to gain a better view of Sara. “It’s just a girl,” he says, pointing a finger at her.

With their interest peaked further, most of the group exit the building and walk out to the buggy. Mac is contemplating what they may trade, when Sara steps up to the young boy and hands him the iPod and headphones.
 

“Thank you.” The boy grabs the device, running back over to the elderly man with it in his hands. “Papa, Papa, look.”
 

The elderly man looks down at the device before speaking. “That will do just fine. You pump what you need, but better be on your way before nightfall.”
 

 
“Thank you. Are there any infected people here?” Sara replies.

“Worse, infected and armed. Leftovers from the military base down the road. Most of them were soldiers.”
 

The old man turns around to walk back inside, placing his hand on the boy’s head, then turns to add another tidbit of information. “They got the road blocked north of town; best if you take to the desert and find a dirt road around that spot.” He continues inside the building, ushering the group back out of sight.
 

“Thanks, we appreciate it.” Mac turns around and walks back over to the buggy where Sara and Aren are sitting, ready to roll out of town. “Well, ladies. It looks like we will have to wait for something to eat. Better to get the heck out of here now than to sit and wait around and see what happens.”
 

“Agreed, let’s get the hell out of here.” Sara is still less inclined to trust anyone she doesn’t know on a personal level, and would rather put plenty of distance between her and them.
 

“North it is.” Mac starts the buggy and mashes the gas pedal, sending dust up into the air behind them. Pulling out of the gas station, back onto the road, Mac steers the buggy around town, looking for a road that will lead either east or west into the desert. Turn after turn, block after block, the roads are blocked off with the carcasses of burned-out automobiles.
 

“This is just like a maze.” He continues to drive around the town, searching for a way out. Turning back north again, Mac turns left at the next intersection back onto the same highway they came into town on.
 

“Looks like we are going to have to stick to the main road for a—” he cuts his sentence off as the roadblock ahead reveals itself. Slowing the buggy to a stop, he searches around to see if there is a way around.
 

“Look,” Aren speaks out loud, pointing straight ahead.

Up ahead of them, near the roadblock, two army Humvees roll out from the sides of the road and start gaining ground, closing the distance between them. Climbing into the turret, Sara cycles the .50 caliber machine gun, pointing it directly at the lead Humvee. The lead Humvee, driven by an infected, hostile soldier, continues toward them as the soldiers in the back of the rig stand up, display their weapons, then start shooting. Returning fire from the buggy, Sara squeezes the trigger, sending round after round into the engine of the Humvee. Smoke billows out of the Humvee’s engine, but it does nothing to slow their advance.
 

“Back up; back up.” Sara opens the machine gun up, not pausing between cyclic fire.

“I’m on it.” Mac throws the buggy in reverse making gravel and dust spit out from underneath the tires. Behind the buggy, two blocks back, another pair of Humvees roll out into the road and block their exit. Mac slams on the brakes as he notices the blocked exit. Slamming the gearshift back into first, Mac guns the throttle again, turning down a side road as the first Humvee that is still billowing smoke nearly hits them in the side. Up in the turret, Sara spins around quickly, spraying a hail of gunfire into the back of the Humvee’s open bed. The .50 caliber bullets tear into the rotting flesh of the soldiers, decapitating two of them, bodies still standing for a few seconds before they fall over. The soldier left standing loses an arm during the carnage, taking the M16 rifle with it. Still shooting, Sara turns her aim to the tires, blowing out both of them on the right side of the vehicle, bringing it to a standstill. The second Humvee that was right behind the first one turns around the corner, smashing into the curb on the opposite side of the street before continuing its pursuit after the survivors. Turning her attention to this new target, Sara squeezes off another burst of lead, disabling the engine, sending the Humvee to the side of the road. With their Humvee disabled, the soldiers dismount, running down the street after them. Aiming at the soldiers following them, Sara squeezes the trigger again, killing two of them before the gun runs out of ammo.