Until We End (9 page)

Brooks cleared his throat. “Don't mention anything about what happened yesterday to anyone we meet.”

“Why not? Seems like it'd be valuable information.” People should know what the military was capable of.

“Better to keep it quiet,” Brooks said, looking at me in the eye for the first time since we got out of the Humvee. “We don't want the military to have any more of a reason to hunt us.”
Or you,
went unsaid. But I got it. I was wanted now, too.

It was only a few minutes before the towers of the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist came into view. Its bright white, gold trimmed steeples were the tallest things around for miles, shooting into the sky like a flare.

We cut across the lawn of Lafayette Square, walking toward the cathedral. Its once-trim and tidy grass was wild and filled with weeds, the beautiful fountain at its center dry and cracked.

On St. Patrick's Day pre-TEOTWAWKI, the city would dye the fountain's water green. The Square would be full of revelers drinking shamrock beer, the magnificently lit cathedral in the background illuminating the scene like a benevolent god.

We followed the brick sidewalk to a small set of stairs that led up to the hulking wooden door of the cathedral. Lu balled her fist and beat on it, the booming sound creating an echo in the sanctuary that I could hear from the doorstep.

We stood there for a few minutes before I heard the sound of footsteps. My chest tightened with anxiety as they grew nearer. After seeing the ghost town that Savannah had turned into, I didn't know what to expect. Maybe it was a gang or more military deserters like Brooks' brigade. Maybe it'd be a group of nice old church ladies who liked to sit in knitting circles and talk about their grandkids. Yeah, right.

The door swung open to reveal a middle-aged man of average height and build, wearing a plaid collared shirt and belted khakis.
Church clothes
, I realized. His hair was neatly combed and gelled and he had this huge smile on his face, like we were meeting for a potluck.

I turned to look at Brooks, and he wasn't smiling back. That was a relief. Jackson was frowning too and Lonnie's face was puckered like he'd tasted something sour, but Lu was desperately trying look pleasant and failing.

“Brother Charlie, good to see you,” she said.

Brother
? If Lu was Catholic, then I was Madonna.

“Louisa, I'm so pleased to see you again,” Charlie said. Then he looked at me. “And who is your friend?”

His skin had tight sheen, like he had way too much Botox, and his eyes were as hard and shiny as marbles. I tried to introduce myself, but the words stuck in my throat. It felt like bluffing was all I'd done since I left home — but I had a feeling if I tried to bluff with Charlie, he'd see straight through me.

Brooks did the introductions for me. “This is our friend, Cora. She's gotten into some trouble the last few days, and we were hoping that you might have some information that could help her.”

“All are welcome in the house of God,” Charlie said. “But I must insist that you leave your weapons outside.”

I glanced at Brooks, sure he was going to tell Brother Charlie to go to hell. But he pulled the strand of ammo that crisscrossed his body over his head and handed his rifle to Charlie. The others did the same. I clenched my fists and bit the inside of my cheek, determined not to give away any hint of what I carried in my backpack. No freaking way I was giving Brother Charlie my gun.

Once they were all clear of weapons, we went inside. Charlie didn't even give me a second glance. Guess I didn't seem like much of threat.

The cathedral was perfectly preserved. Its marble floors were swept, the pews dusted and the stained glass windows shone like they'd been freshly polished. The sunlight filtering through the glass made the whole place dreamy and technicolor, like I'd fallen down the rabbit hole and Charlie was the white rabbit.

He led us down the long center aisle, our steps echoing in the cavernous sanctuary, and turned right at the altar, toward a door half-hidden in a wood panel on the wall. He stopped and faced me.

“Young lady, I'll be happy to speak with you in my office.”

Brooks stepped closer to me and put his hand on my shoulder. It didn't feel condescending, for some reason. It felt steadying. “That won't be necessary,” he said. “We can talk out here.”

Charlie peered at him with a disapproving look, like a teacher scolding a kid who spoke out of turn in class. “I'll say what's
necessary
here, Brooks.” Then he turned and went into the office.

I swallowed my dislike of Charlie — after all, he'd been nice enough so far. He might even have information on where to find Coby, and I needed that as bad as I needed to breathe.

I shook off Brooks' hand and walked through the door without looking back.

Brother Charlie sat in a big leather wingback behind a desk in the center of the office. I swung the door shut and headed for the chair in front of his desk. The place reeked of baby powder, its walls the same sickly-green color used in every doctor's office ever.

He sat there for a few moments, just staring at me, that plastic smile fixed in place, then said, “I'm sorry young lady, I didn't catch your full name.”

“Just Cora,” I said. He waited for me to continue. “It's not short for anything.”

Charlie sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Tell me, Cora, about your predicament.”

I didn't know why Charlie put me on edge. I didn't want him to. I wanted him to be nice and helpful and friendly, because I hadn't gotten any of that in a long time, especially from an adult, and I missed it so much it made my heart hurt.

So I started telling him my story, hoping it'd make me feel better. I told him that my dad was a brilliant doctor who disappeared after the virus hit. That I thought he was dead. How I hadn't left home for nine months while I took care of my brother, until the drought forced me to go find water.

I even told him about how I met Brooks at the springs, although I left out our little
encounter
in the truck. We were in a church, after all. The rest was still so fresh in my mind, my heart raced as I spoke — my house ransacked, my brother taken by the military. The destruction. The guilt.

I told him that Brooks and his brigade were helping me, but I didn't tell him about our defunct deal. The fewer people who knew about my stockpile, the better.

“That's an incredible story, Cora,” Charlie said, leaning forward in his chair. “But I wonder if you're asking the right questions. You said that Louisa and her friends want to know why the military's activity has increased? That suddenly, they've raided your house and taken your brother?”

I nodded.

“What I find more interesting,” he continued, “is that you remained at home with your brother unmolested for nine months, and then the moment that you stepped — or, more accurately, drove — away, your home was invaded. Why do you think that was?”

“Murphy's law?” Of course it was suspicious how everything had happened the moment I'd left home. Why hadn't I thought of it that way before?

Charlie's grin widened. “No, I don't think so. I don't believe in coincidences, Cora. May I ask, did you happen to have any identifying information on the vehicle that you drove to the springs?”

“Identifying information?”

“A license plate, maybe?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Did you encounter anyone else on the road?”

“No.” Unless he was counting the hills of bodies. The image of the little girl in the pink dress surfaced in my mind. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, shivering.

“Hm.” He leaned forward in his chair with a thoughtful expression. “The only explanation I can think of is that your plates were recorded.”

“My plates?”

“I assume that the truck was registered under your father's name, and if that's the case then they likely ran your license plate number and traced it back to your house. Traffic cameras are posted all along the big highways, you know.”

I forgot how to breathe, trying to absorb his words. They just kept repeating in my head like a bad song stuck on shuffle. My throat closed around the denial I wanted to spit back into his face, but I couldn't. Because he was right.

I'd been stupid. Careless. Dad always told me to take the back roads, and I didn't listen. Coby was gone because of me.

“Cora?”

When I looked up and saw Charlie's sympathetic frown, my brittle nerves almost broke. I wanted to explode from my seat and rip the gun from my backpack, jam the muzzle against his head and order him to take it back — make me forget — tell me he was lying –

Anything.

I swallowed my emotion and the bile rising in my throat. My situation wasn't Charlie's fault. It was only my own. And I was here for a reason.

“Do you think that the cameras have anything to do with whatever's going on with the military?” I asked, remembering what Lu said earlier. “About their increase in activity?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “If there are more people out and about, like you for instance, then there's more action for the cameras to capture. That means more activity from the military, and consequently, a more dangerous environment for you.”

Just for me?

“It's more dangerous for you too, isn't it?”

“Not quite, Cora,” he said. His smile stretched to show boxy peroxide-white teeth. “The government isn't all bad, you know. The shelters they've set up are keeping people safe and fed. I visit them regularly to counsel the bereaved.”

Shelters? That didn't gel. Brooks told me that government custody was as good as prison and the inmates were innocent guinea pigs for whatever concoction the doctors wanted to pump into them. But this was important. They kept people at shelters
.
“The military just lets you come and go as you please?”

“Of course. I am the steward of the cathedral.”

“Would they let
me
come and go as I please?”

Brother Charlie sat back in his chair, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepling his fingers. “Why would you want to do that, Cora? You've told me that you've seen how dangerous the world is now.”

As if the shelter was all cherry pie and relaxation? I doubted it. To me, freedom would always outweigh a false sense of security. And from everything I'd heard, the shelters were a cushy cage. “The government is the one who took my brother to begin with,” I pointed out.

“And why shouldn't they? Imagine what the soldiers who entered your house saw: a young boy, alone, likely hysterical. Of course they'd take him.” Of course. God, the destruction in the house... I could see Coby in my mind, tripping over his own feet to get away from the soldiers, jumping over the couch — the cushions slashed — hiding under the bed — the mattress flipped against the wall — trying to make it to the backdoor...

He must have been terrified.

I should never have let him out of my sight. My eyes burned as tears formed behind them. I'd done everything wrong. I imagined what I looked like to Charlie, sitting across the desk from him. Baggy clothes, bird's nest hair, teary eyes. Pathetic.

“Have you considered simply going to one of the shelters and asking them where your brother might be?”

I scoffed. “And let myself get experimented on? Sure.”

Brother Charlie shook his head with a condescending smile. “Cora, if you have a chance to be a part of something great — the cure to the virus that killed
billions
of people — why wouldn't you? It's a process, of course. Everything is. But the vaccines for smallpox and Polio weren't created overnight, either.

“They're giving people food. A roof over their heads. Hope for a cure.” He spread his hands. “You have to understand what waits for people out here, in this world. You said yourself that you couldn't adequately provide for Coby on your own. For others, it's worse. Starvation, dehydration. The virus, of course. The shelters are protecting people.”

I didn't want to buy what he was saying. But it was so tempting. The weight of taking care of Coby could be completely lifted off my shoulders. What if he was just sitting at a shelter, waiting for me come find him?

And being experimented on. My heart shuddered.

Then there were the soldiers that chased us in the Hummer and fired at us without a second thought. I'd killed one of them. And if there were cameras posted along the highway, they had my face on tape as the shooter.

No, I couldn't just waltz into a shelter and demand to see my brother.

But maybe someone else could... The idea hit me like a bolt of lightening. If I dyed my hair and said my name was Betty Boop, who'd be the wiser? I didn't have any ID, not even a driver's license, and didn't have my fingerprints in the system. There'd be no way for them to find out who I really was. Maybe I wouldn't be able to straight-up demand to know where Coby was, but there had to be files, documentation,
something
that could help me.

“I'll think about it,” I told him.

“Please do.”

I stood up and he stuck out his hand for me to shake. I grasped it reluctantly. My stomach turned at the feel of his skin meeting mine. It was soft and silky, his hand plump and limp. His bones ground together in my grasp.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Cora,” he said, that plastic grin splitting his face.

I mumbled something polite in return and swiftly walked out the door.

Brooks and the others waited for me out on the sidewalk. The sun shone directly above and made me squint as I walked outside.

Though I didn't realize it until I saw him, Brooks never had to help me at all. He could have easily overpowered me and taken everything I had, leaving me to go off on a wild goose chase that probably would've gotten me killed. That realization left me speechless for a moment. I thought I hadn't seen any kindness post-TEOTWAWKI. But Brooks had shown me a lot.