Wanderers (29 page)

Excited, Joseph lifted out an assortment of periodicals:
Newsweek, USA Today, The Washington Post.
Many consisted of only the cover or front page, which served to store smaller clippings inside. Intrigued, he opened up one, then another. Headlines floated past his eyes, with names he didn't recognize and words he didn't know. But as he examined one article after another, he found that laying them out in front of him and putting them in order made them easier to read and even understand.

Two in particular caught his eye:

SPANISH FLU FELLS MILLIONS

New York, NY—Doctors worldwide have declared themselves helpless against the spread of an illness they had hoped never to see in their lifetimes. First unleashed in 1918, the Spanish flu is once more wreaking havoc on world populations.

Having mutated in frozen dormancy, the disease is now of an unparalleled ferocity. Finding a conductor in the Earth's water supplies, it has been borne everywhere through the planet's oceans, rivers, lakes, even raindrops.

LIFE EXPECTANCY SOON TO BE TWENTY

Atlanta, GA—Doctors are now predicting that, in the aftermath of the flu devastation, the life expectancy of survivors will drop to as low as twenty years. “It's conceivable,” remarked Dr. Albert Frake of what was once the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, “you could within a few years see a world populated entirely by children and teenagers.”

“
What are you doing?
”

Joseph jumped.

He had been so absorbed in what he was reading, he hadn't been aware of anyone approaching. He whirled around and saw a furious Ramon standing in the doorway.

Joseph broke into a nervous smile. “I, um, uhh—”

Ramon had already crossed to him and yanked the clippings away. One of them tore down the middle and Joseph let out an inadvertent cry.

“No one's allowed in here!” snapped Ramon. He was already sorting through the clippings, as Joseph tried to stammer his apologies. Too late, he realized what he had done:
While he and his friends were supposed to be proving their worth, he had just ruined everything with his stupid curiosity!
Wretched, he wondered if Esther would ever forgive him.

“I'm sorry,” said Joseph as he wrung his hands, his voice trembling. “I didn't know it was wrong. You see, the door was open and I—”

Ramon waved his hands. “It's all right.” He seemed to be calming down; his voice was gruff yet civil. “Nobody told you that this place was off limits. You didn't know any better. But it took me a long time to put my archives together, and I'm afraid I get a bit protective. The paper is very fragile.”

“I'm sure,” Joseph said. He was wiping his sweaty hands on his shirt, rocking back and forth. “I was trying to be careful. I hope I didn't disturb anything.”

Ramon grunted. “So. You read?”

“I do.” Joseph tried to keep pride out of his voice; he didn't want to sound like he was boasting. “A little.”

The older man nodded, as if in approval. He seemed satisfied that nothing was missing and began checking dates and putting the articles in order. “You see, I'm the resident historian and scribe. And librarian, too, I suppose you could say.”

At the word “librarian,” Joseph perked up and nodded several times; he could already feel his panic starting to subside. “I always wanted to be a historian,” he said in a humble voice. “I even had my own library. But of course, it was nothing compared to this.”

Ramon gave a grudging smile. “I've been collecting books and articles since we first moved inside,” he admitted. Then he indicated the shelves. “These are the ones I refer to the most frequently. The rest are in storage.” The man seemed to think and tilted his head. “Would you like to see my records?”

Not believing his good luck, Joseph nodded.

Ramon went to the equipment that lay on his desk. Scattered across its surface were various thin rectangular boxes in black and silver. A chunkier machine, tan and metallic, lay nearby; it had buttons with different letters in orderly rows across the front. Joseph only now noticed the whirr of a small generator in the corner, as well as the distinct smell of fuel. All of the devices were attached to it by long rubber cords.

“This is a typewriter,” said Ramon. He pushed a button on the larger device, which produced a low hum. Then with great care, he scrolled in a sheet of paper and tapped on a few of the buttons. It produced a loud rattling sound, and when Joseph leaned forward, he was astonished to see that faint black letters had been stamped on the sheet.

“I've been keeping detailed records of our stay here,” said Ramon. “Together with my clippings, they should provide quite the archive for future historians.” He gave Joseph a hooded look. “You're interested in the past, are you?”

Joseph nodded. “Very much.”

The older man seemed impressed. “Most people don't care about it. They just slog along in the present, unconcerned about what came before.”

“It's true,” Joseph said. He had often thought the same thing about his friends.

Ramon sized up Joseph, as if seeing him for the first time. Although he had seemed so angry a few minutes ago, he now opened up, like a little boy.

“You see, there was a terrible catastrophe,” Ramon said in an important voice. “It didn't happen all at once. It started when the president—that's the leader of your country, which used to be called the United States of America—loosened rules on where to dig for resources—”

“Like oil?”

Ramon nodded. “Exactly. She allowed drilling in places that used to be forbidden. Like the Arctic, which is north of here. That's where they dug up the bodies of soldiers that had been frozen for almost a hundred years. They had died from something called—”

“The Spanish flu?” Too late, Joseph bit his lip; he knew interrupting was rude, but he couldn't help himself. Still, Ramon smiled.

“You're a quick study.” Although Joseph didn't know what this meant, it sounded like a compliment, and he blushed with pleasure. “Yes, it was the Spanish flu. You see, the cold kept the virus alive. But it had changed. Once loose, it began spreading in ways nobody thought was imaginable. Like—”

“In the water.”

“Right. The oceans and rivers. And the rain.”

Joseph's mind reeled at the enormity of this. He spoke slowly, as the full meaning of it sank in. “So water wasn't always deadly.”

“No,” Ramon exclaimed, “far from it!” Agitated, he ran one hand through his gray hair. “We used to swim in it. Can you believe that? We used to have water fountains, and go sailing on lakes, and water ski. And we had those things”—his hands described a sweeping motion—“those things we used to keep the grass from drying out—what did we call them? Sprinklers! We'd put on our swimsuits and run under them in the summertime.” Ramon laughed and, for a moment, looked far younger than his years.

“So you were alive then,” Joseph said with wonder.

“Oh, yes,” said Ramon. “I remember it all. Things like cars, and television, and . . . airplanes, and ice cream, and the internet, and . . . oh, so many things you can't imagine. Inna and I were twelve, thirteen when it happened, so we already knew things. We all came from good families, so we were educated. We
knew
things. And that's how we managed to survive. Right from the start, we could see how things were going. It wasn't just the water, but the sun, the earthquakes. The food. Everything. So we broke in here, got to work, and never looked back. In fact, we—”

From outside, they could hear the distant sounds of shouting. Then a siren drowned out the noise—the same one they had heard down in the underground tunnels. There was a single gunshot, followed by silence.

“The Insurgents.” Ramon's expression changed. “They hate us. Because all they do is envy and destroy. They don't read. They don't work. They don't have a clue what we do in here. What we've had to sacrifice. That's why they hate you and your friends . . . because you want a better life, too. That's why you came here, right? Well, they want to drag you down with them. They're as dangerous as the water, only worse.”

But Joseph had stopped listening. He was still mulling over what Ramon had told him.

“I always thought something had happened,” he said, “something big. But I had no proof. And no one believed me.”

Ramon smiled once more, his expression that of a pleased teacher. “This is only the beginning, you know. There's a whole other room with even more material. I could use someone to help me organize. Would you be interested in being my assistant?”

Joseph was so thrilled he could barely speak. He nodded so many times it made Ramon laugh.

Then someone appeared at the door: It was Esther, looking anxious, a streak of dirt across her cheek. It was the first time Joseph had seen her without Kai, and he was about to ask about it when she cut him off.

“Joseph,” she said. “We've been looking all over for you.”

Joseph quailed when he remembered the job he had abandoned. But, impatient, Esther was already tugging on his arm.

“Inna wants to see us all on the roof,” she said, “right away.” It was impossible for her to keep the excitement from her voice. “She says she has something to tell us. Something important.”

As hot as it was in the enclosed staircase, the temperature soared the moment Joseph and Esther stepped onto the roof, with Ramon trailing behind.

They were in the middle of a jungle: a dense profusion of greenery, leaves and foliage that surrounded them with a rich and loamy smell. It was immense, seemingly laid out over all the rooftops in the entire block. Extending as far as the eye could see were orderly rows of wooden tables that supported hundreds if not thousands of shallow plastic tanks. Each one contained water and lush growth, corralled with wire and wooden stakes. The air was so thick with humidity, it was hard to breathe.

Joseph saw that the roof was encased in a single and immense house of glass. A network of transparent panels edged in thin black strips formed the walls, as well as the low ceiling. The structure extended for hundreds of feet in all directions, with narrow metal beams holding it up at regular intervals.

Esther confidently led the way. “This is where they grow their food,” she told Joseph over her shoulder. “They save the seeds from everything and use them to grow the next crop. They're so important, they lock them up.”

Skar was crouched by a large plastic tub, twisting off fleshy red growths as big as her fist off a vine and adding them to others. “Come on,” said Esther, and her friend put down her basket to join them. Farther down, Michal was sorting through a leafy tangle, snapping off fat green pods; she too stood up and fell into step.

Inna was at the far end of the roof. She was with Bao, examining one of the many pipes that led from the glass ceiling and down the wall. She looked up as Esther and her friends approached.

“Be careful of this.” In the midst of the garden, Inna wore what Joseph thought was an incongruous outfit: a silver dress and, around her throat, a rope of exquisite white beads with a luminous sheen. She was indicating something by her feet: a large metal bucket half filled with brackish water. “Our system funnels all of our rainwater from the roof so it can be boiled and filtered, but sometimes, there are leaks. Whatever you do, don't touch.”

At that moment, something bright blue stumbled past. It was Kai, and at the sight of him, her face lit up.

“That goes for
you
above all!” Scooping him up, Inna nuzzled his neck. Then she raised her head and her tone sharpened. “Bao! Make certain the boy never gets near the pipes again. Is that clear?” The other woman bowed and nodded, murmuring apologies.

By now, everyone had gathered on the roof: not only Esther and her friends, but the other adults, as well. Inna waited until everyone settled down. But before she could begin, she was interrupted by at a soft yet terrifying sound.

It was rain.

Fat drops splattered the glass directly above their heads. Joseph could not help but flinch; he saw Esther and the others recoil as well, some throwing their arms up in an instinctive attempt to protect themselves.

Yet Inna remained unperturbed.

“Look, Kai,” she exclaimed as she gazed upward, “isn't it wonderful? We haven't had a good rain for weeks.” She bounced the boy in her arms, then cradled him so he could watch the sky. “You've brought us luck!”

With flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, the woman now turned to face the others. “And that's what I wanted to speak to you about. I know you've only been here such a short time. But you've been doing good work today. We all have a good feeling about you. If you'd like to, we'd be honored to have you stay with us.”

A look of immense relief and joy passed among all the travelers except Skar.

“Thank you,” Esther replied. She was clearly trying to keep her feelings in check, but like Inna, her face was radiant. “We hope you won't regret it.”

“Oh,” said Inna. “I know we won't.”

Joseph kept his gaze on the ceiling. It was strange, but true. The glass not only held, but he could see rainwater running along the clear panes and forming a large pool in the center. It would drain through pipes, disappearing into the system that would make soon it drinkable.

The idea was clever yet so simple.

The adults had so much to teach them,
Joseph thought.

He only hoped he had enough time to learn it all.

Miles away, the rain came down in torrents.

Aras stood in the doorway of an abandoned home, his heart pounding; he had only just missed being drenched. He took a dry cloth from his backpack and ran it over himself with care before flinging it aside. He had known the storm was coming; over the day, the heavy air had grown even thicker, and stiff winds had begun to kick. Still, it had come on with surprising speed, catching him unawares.