The Stones of Angkor (Purge of Babylon, Book 3) (49 page)

He went back
to Sandwhite Wildlife State Park, but this time he didn’t take the off-ramp. Instead, he stopped a half kilometer from the exit and climbed out, then scanned the flat, gray concrete highway for signs.

Zoe looked at him strangely when he settled back into the Ford twenty seconds later. “What are you doing back here, Will? Do you have a death wish?”

“Not the last time I checked.”

He put the F-150 in drive and continued up the highway.

“So what are we doing back here?” she asked.

“You’ll see.”

“Great. Another surprise. You’re full of them, aren’t you?”

“You have a very acerbic sense of humor for a doctor.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

“I’m just trying to piss you off.”

“Hmm.”

“Not working?”

He shrugged and kept driving.

He didn’t stop again until he had almost passed Sandwhite completely, and only when he saw another on-ramp. He put the truck in park, climbed out, and saw what he had been looking for.

Large tire tracks caked in mud, curling from the on-ramp and onto I-49 heading northbound. They weren’t quite faded yet, so they weren’t more than a few hours old. The tracks overlapped, but not so much that he couldn’t tell there was more than one vehicle driving in a convoy. He guessed Josh was using either all or most of the military five-tons he had seen back at the camp.

Will climbed back into the Ford.

“Tire tracks,” Zoe said. “From the big transport trucks. You’re using the mud falling off them to track them. You’re smarter than you look.”

“I’m sure there’s a compliment in there somewhere.”

“They’re not going to last, you know. The tracks.”

“They’ll last long enough. I don’t see Josh moving that many people for that long of a distance. Like you said, it can get pretty hot in the back of those transports.”

“How did you know they would be heading north and not south toward us?”

“South takes them back into Lafayette. There aren’t any towns big enough to settle everyone at the camp between here and the city. There was always only one direction for them to go—north.”

“You really are smarter than you look,” she said.

Will grunted and drove on.

*

It wasn’t hard
to track the trucks. The trails were visible from the high perch of the F-150, and he drove for thirty minutes or so, doing forty-five miles per hour because of the lack of traffic. After a while, the tracks turned right onto an off-ramp, then merged onto State Highway 106.

“Have you been here before?” he asked Zoe.

She shook her head. “No. But like I said, they have camps and towns everywhere. I’m sure there are more that I don’t even know about.”

He drove along the two-lane state highway for another ten minutes, passing mostly overgrown farmland, with the occasional stables or abandoned silent tractors, reminders that at one point people used to live and work here. Wild grass had begun to reclaim the land, and as soon as the buildings were covered up, there wouldn’t be any reminders at all that man once tilled them.

He passed a small bayou and kept going for another ten minutes. Houses began cropping up on both sides of the road. A pair of two-story farmhouses, one white and one slightly brown—or maybe it was faded or dirty white—stood next to each other.

Soon, the tracks told him to turn left along a new stretch of state highway.

More farmland, until he saw smoke rising in the distance. Will slowed down and, purely out of habit, pulled over to the side of the two-lane road.

There were three columns of smoke drifting lazily into the air farther up the road—two kilometers, give or take. Close enough for the sound of a car engine to be heard, especially with so few noises, except for the chirping of birds and clicking of crickets around them. He thought about Josh and how smart the kid was. An ambush or two wouldn’t be out of the question.

“The town,” Zoe said. “Looks like you found it.”

“Looks like it.”

“So what now?”

Will looked around at his surroundings.

More overgrown farmland, a long ditch, and the bayou curving slightly to his left before evening out to run parallel with the road again. He remembered passing a couple of farms back down the road.

“When was the last time you went for a walk, doc?”

*

Like most barns
in rural America, the one he chose was painted red, with a slightly burnt orange shade. It was wide and long, and he had no trouble driving the Ford F-150 inside once he opened the large twin front doors.

There was enough darkness inside to worry about ghouls hiding in the shadows, forcing him to spend a few minutes poking around the old bales of unused hay on the first floor. He started breathing through his mouth against the metallic mold smell, stepping around spores along the back walls and floors that were visible in the bright pools of sunlight spilling in through holes that pockmarked the building. He finished by climbing up the rickety steps to the second floor and scanning in a complete 360.

Satisfied, he returned to the Ford and slipped on his pack, then shouldered the M4A1.

Zoe followed him out of the truck. “Are you going to kill me, Will?”

“You already asked me that.”

“I wanted to make sure you hadn’t changed your mind.”

“No,” he said. “I promise, I’m not going to harm you, Zoe.”

He pocketed the key fob and left the barn. After Zoe followed him out, he swung the big wooden doors closed, then made sure the latch caught.

“I don’t know what you expect to find here,” Zoe said. “It’s a town. With people. What else is there to see?”

“We’ll see.”

“Oh, clever.”

He started off, Zoe following behind him. He expected her to bolt at any moment, take her chances anywhere but with him, but she didn’t. Instead, she followed him quietly, the only noise coming from her footsteps.

Will glanced at his watch: 10:45 
a.m.

He pointed them toward the smoke, keeping to the field of tall grass along the roads for cover.

“I should have worn hiking shoes,” Zoe said behind him.

“Stop complaining.”

“Says the guy with boots. I only have tennis shoes.”

“Tennis shoes are all-purpose.”

“Not when you’re walking across farmland. What kind of shoes does Lara wear?”

He didn’t answer.

“You don’t happen to have a pair of boots in that bag, do you?” she asked.

“I had a pair of shoes I picked up for Lara, but I had to throw them away.”

“Boots?”

“No.”

“Too bad. I could use a pair of boots. Even those clunky army boots. Tell me about Lara.”

He ignored her.

“Come on, you know you want to. Is she pretty? Blonde? Brunette? Probably pretty. I also bet you have a thing for blondes, don’t you?”

He pretended he couldn’t hear her.

“Who doesn’t like blondes? Everyone likes blondes. You wanna ask me if I’m a natural blonde?”

He didn’t.

“I am. In case you were wondering. Lara’s a blonde, right? I knew it. You don’t know it, but you have a type. You wanna know what it is?”

He kept walking, looking forward.

“You know you wanna,” she said. “Admit it, and I’ll tell you. Will? Can you hear me up there? God, you suck.”

*

“Is it everything
you expected?” Zoe asked.

It looked like something out of an old Western, sections of the place separated into grids, all connected by one long main street. Brick and mortar buildings lined the sidewalks, their signs re-purposed with simple names like Bakery, Supplies, Clinic, and one for Administration. There were more he couldn’t see from his vantage point. Smoke drifted out from chimneys.

Apartments were interspersed among the businesses, and people were moving leisurely on the other side of open windows and fluttering curtains. A woman was hanging laundry, while a redheaded kid leaned over the windowsill watching the streets below. A pair of preteens in shorts raced along the sidewalk, dodging adults.

What end of the world?

There was a fountain in the town square, where a big white tent had been set up. Transport trucks were parked nearby, and a line of people stood in a semi-organized circle that snaked around the tent. Armed figures in hazmat suits moved among them, but unlike back at the camp, these men looked alert.

They’re expecting trouble.

He was lying flat on top of a small hill about 200 meters from the edge of town, peering through binoculars. Zoe sat behind him, rubbing her feet.

There were no gunmen on the rooftops that he could see, which made the place look more accommodating than it really was. Or maybe it really
was
that welcoming? He remembered what Jenkins, the man he had met yesterday in the camp and who had tried to squeeze him for information about the towns, had said. The man was anxious, even eager, to finally get settled.

“I think I made the right decision. Still, it would be nice to finally get to one of these towns I keep hearing about. Get on with living.”

A low rumble preceded the appearance of two military five-ton transport trucks, entering the other side of town. They moved through the street, coming to a loud, crunching stop behind the other parked vehicles next to the white tent.

People hopped out of the back of the first truck. Men and women stretching, shaking hands and hugging. An air of happiness, of a long journey finally come to a fruitful end, showed on their faces. A pair of women with clipboards appeared, greeting the newcomers, while teenagers pushed carts and handed out bottled water and food. Pregnant women were helped down the back of the second truck, and they automatically became the center of attention.

“What’s happening in the white tent?” Will asked.

“The one with everyone lining up outside?” Zoe asked.

“Yes.”

“Processing. It’s where they sign in to the town and get assigned housing. Later, they’re given work details.”

“Work details?”

“It’s a town, Will. People have to run it. They’re given work based on their qualifications. For instance, I would get assigned to the clinic.”

“So what poor slob gets garbage duty?”

“I guess whoever doesn’t have a skill they could use somewhere else. Isn’t that what you do on the island? Delegate jobs?”

She had a point, but he decided to keep that to himself. He said instead, “And anyone can come and go as they please?”

“That’s the idea.”

“But you don’t know for sure.”

“I’ve never seen anyone leave. Why would they want to? Everything they need is there. Food. Water. Shelter. And they don’t have to be scared at night.”

“Bottled water?”

“The towns I’ve been to all had spring wells. I’m guessing this one does too, or they wouldn’t have settled here.”

“And the creatures, they don’t come into town at nights?”

“I’ve never seen them.”

“How do they know to stay away?”

“Probably the same way they know not to harm the guys in hazmat suits.”

Kate tells them. Or one of the other blue-eyed ghouls.

The line outside the tent moved slowly, but no one seemed to mind. He couldn’t hear their chatter from where he lay, but their body movements told him everything. This was where they wanted to be, and the overwhelmingly positive energy emanating from them was hard to miss.