Generation M (5 page)

The girl must have sensed that Abby posed no threat, because the threads of veins flaring in her neck slowly flattened, and her shallow breathing deepened.

She lowered her knife and slowly rolled up the sleeves of the Colony East uniform, revealing tattoos of purple moons and streaking comets.

Abby sucked her cheeks and mashed her tongue against the roof of her mouth to work up enough saliva to form words. “That uniform belongs to my friend.”

“You’re Abby Leigh, right?” the girl whispered.

Stunned, Abby nodded.

“My name is Lexi. We have to go meet Toby.”

The girls of Unit 2A advanced their iPods to the next mobile lesson and followed Murph outside, heading to first meal.

Doctor Martin was Lisette’s History of Science professor, and his boring voice crackled through her earbud. “Darwin published his theory of evolution with compelling evidence in his book
On the Origin of Species …
.”

Lisette gaped at the devastation. The storm, which had kept them confined to their dorm for the past three days, had turned Emory Campus into a dangerous obstacle course. Ahead, the boys from Unit 2B walked inside orange cones set up to keep them away from the downed trees and power lines. Lisette caught a glimpse of her friend, Richard, and wished she could show him her loose tooth, but she’d have to wait until recess.

All around her, the cleanup was in full swing. Chainsaws whined as Navy crews cut up toppled trunks and tree branches. She shivered when she saw ensigns replacing a broken window in Medical Clinic 3.

She had spent three months in the clinic when she had first arrived at the colony and never wanted to go inside that scary place again. Scientists, trying to find an antibiotic that would cure AHA-B, had injected her with liquids that made her toes and fingers burn and tingle. Beeping machines had kept her awake at night. She had shed many tears for her friend, Lily Meyers, another girl her age sick with AHA-B. One day, Lily’s bed was empty, but nobody would tell Lisette what had happened to her friend.

Midway between the dorm and Heisenberg Hall, Lisette got a rare glimpse of survivors outside the colony. A tall fence covered in green fabric surrounded Emory Campus, but a piece of the fabric had ripped. Through the opening, Lisette saw survivors peering in with their lips moving and fingers clinging to the chain links.

She couldn’t hear what any of them were saying above Doctor Martin’s lecture, so she pretended to scratch her ear and removed her earbud.

“Feed us.” “I’m starving.” “Please, I’ll eat anything.” “Help us.” The raspy voices crackled with fright.

Lisette reinserted the bud as a wave of panic washed over her.
Would Doctor Perkins put her outside the fence if she told the truth?

With a chill from the desperate cries of the survivors settling deep in her bones, she paused her mobile lesson when she entered Heisenberg Hall. Today was the fourth of the month, an even number, and she took her place in the weigh-in line. The boys and girls ahead of her had even ID numbers, as did she. When it was her turn, she stepped on the scale and said, “Nine four four.”

“Lisette Leigh,” the ensign replied, reading from a list that matched IDs with names. “Twenty-two point eight kilograms.”

He entered her weight into a computer.

She moved through the food line, where the cooks gave her scrambled eggs, an orange, and some oatmeal. After pouring a glass of soymilk, she found a seat at Zoe’s table.

She let Zoe wiggle her tooth.

“Can I do it?” Molly asked.

Lisette pushed her jaw forward, and Molly wiggled it.

“I hope you stay in the colony,” Molly told her.

Doctor Hoffer, Atlanta Colony’s chief scientist, entered from a side door. A woman Lisette had never seen before accompanied him. Doctor Hoffer wore thick glasses, and because he had snow-white hair, Lisette thought he was the oldest adult at the colony. The woman had sandy blonde hair and carried a shoulder bag. Lisette leaned to the right to get a better view and noticed she wore a silver necklace.

Both adults stepped to the front of the cafeteria.

“Good morning,” Doctor Hoffer said.

“Good morning,” Lisette said in unison with the other two hundred members of Generation M.

He straightened his bowtie. “I’d like to introduce Doctor Hedrick, a physician from Colony East. She’ll be in charge of our clinic. She’s also starting up a new program, training ensigns to be doctors.”

As Doctor Hoffer continued with the morning announcements, Lisette peeked at the boys from Unit 2B eating at the next table. Richard, whose cowlick sprung up like a rooster’s tail, grinned at her and pointed to his tooth. She grinned and pointed at her tooth. He made a funny face, and she did the same. They went back and forth like this, scrunching eyes, sticking their tongues out, and seeing who could make the funniest face.

Someone tapped Lisette on the shoulder, and heat scorched her cheeks when she turned and faced the magnified eyeballs of Doctor Hoffer. Doctor Hedrick stood beside him.

“This is Lisette,” he said to Doctor Hedrick. “She’s having an evaluation later on. I’d appreciate it if you could send me the results of the examination before noon.”

Doctor Hedrick led Lisette outside. “Please, call me Sandy.”

Sandy’s smile and soft tone put her at ease.

“Your necklace is pretty,” Lisette said.

Sandy pinched the silver braid between her fingers and lifted a small silver heart. “My grandmother gave it to me when I graduated from high school. That was a long time ago.”

She held out her hand. Lisette took it, and they started across the campus.

“I haven’t had a chance to review your profile yet,” Sandy said. “What’s your last name?”

“Leigh.” Lisette liked to spell words. “L-E-I-G-H.”

Sandy stopped, removed a thick folder from her shoulder bag, and flipped through a few pages. Her eyes lit up. “I can see the resemblance. Abby calls you Toucan.”

Lisette’s heart thudded in her chest, and she was trembling all over. “You know Abby?”

“Abby’s in Biltmore Company. All the children in Colony East are assigned to one of four companies. Would you rather I call you Lisette or Toucan?” Sandy winked. “I can always call you 944 if you’d like.”

Lisette wrinkled her nose at that. “Is Abby alive?”

“Your sister is fine,” Sandy replied with a frown. “Why would you ask that?”

“In the spirit drill, a woman said my brother and sister are dead.”

Sandy mumbled to herself. Then, she took Lisette’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Many things here don’t make sense. I don’t know about your brother, but Abby is doing great.”

Lisette threw her arms around Sandy and gave her a big hug.

They continued across the campus, hand in hand, until Medical Clinic 3 loomed before them. Lisette stopped. Sandy tugged her hand, but she held her ground.

“Where are we going?” Lisette asked.

Sandy gestured to the clinic. “The examination room is on the second floor.”

The muscles below her cheekbones and on each side of her neck cramped, and Lisette couldn’t make herself go in there.

Sandy went down on one knee and gently placed her hands on her shoulders. “You’re shaking. Do you like butterscotch candy? I have a bowl of candy in my office. C’mon, let’s go.”

Lisette turned and ran as fast as she could.

“Toucan, come back!”

Admiral Samuels’s voice crackled over Dawson’s two-way radio. “I want you to demolish the ferry terminal.”

“Sir?” Dawson exclaimed.

“The storm damaged it. It’s ready to come down. When the survivors overrun the colony, I don’t want the building collapsing on anyone.”

The admiral sounded tired, almost defeated, and Dawson wondered about his mental state. An epidemic was on the verge of killing hundreds of thousands of kids outside the colonies, yet the admiral was concerned that a building might collapse.

“Will do, sir.”

Do or die, never question why.
Old habits were hard to break.

Fifteen minutes later, he skirted a portable generator chugging away outside Trinity Church. He pulled the handle on the massive ornate door and stepped into the high-domed cathedral — one of three supply depots at the colony.

He spotted Chief Petty Officer Thomas near the altar, on her hands and knees, with her head bowed.

Thomas had played goalie for the University of Minnesota the year the women’s hockey team made it to the Frozen Four championship round, but what impressed Dawson more than her net-minding skills was her photographic memory. She always knew the location and quantity of every possible repair part stored in the colony.

As he approached her, he realized she was snoozing, not praying. He cleared his throat.

Thomas groggily rose to her feet. “No rest for the weary,” she said. “Looks like you could use some shuteye too, Lieutenant.”

He grinned. “No rest for the weary.”

He told her what he needed, and she procured the items. Navy engineers had retrofitted the church; bins replaced pews, and tall shelving units lined the walls.

Delivering the first part of the order, she dropped the carton of waxy blocks onto the counter with little regard. The fifteen pounds of C4 had the explosive power to turn the granite church into tiny pebbles.

“My best seller today,” she said with a yawn and went to fetch the wireless fuses.

He marveled at the amazing properties of C4. The plastic explosive was safe and versatile. You could slam, bang, and mold it, though you needed to handle it more gingerly once you inserted a fuse. An all-purpose explosive, you could use a little to punch free a rusty subway turnstile, and use a lot to twist steel girders and bring down a bridge. He had been part of the demolition team that blew the midsection of the Brooklyn Bridge.

Thomas returned with the fuses and a remote detonator. “What landmark are you planning to alter this time?”

“The old man wants me to blow the ferry terminal.”

“You have a demolition buddy,” Thomas said. “Lieutenant Mathews stopped by thirty minutes ago. Same job.”

As he approached the terminal, Dawson was still scratching his head over Admiral Samuels independently assigning the same task to two officers.

He checked that his two-way radio was off. Wireless fuses operated at a unique frequency, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

The terminal building housed a machine shop, the remains of the Zodiac fleet, and a ferry that once transported cars and passengers across the East River.

He found Lieutenant Mathews lying prone on the dock, reaching her arm over the side and planting a charge on the piling.

She got to her feet and picked up her satchel of explosives. “What can I do for you, Dawson?”

Mathews had cold blue eyes that complimented her disposition. Ever since her recent promotion to Lieutenant, Junior Grade, she had started calling him Dawson. It might not have bothered him if she had said it in a friendly way, but she spit it out as if it were a bad taste in her mouth. Mathews was someone to keep an eye on. Given the chance, she’d stab anyone in the back to gain favor with the brass.

“Apparently, we received the same orders from the admiral,” he told her.

“I’m here on Doctor Perkins’s request.” Her face remained a steely mask.

Once again, the left hand didn’t know what the right was doing. “Let’s divide and conquer,” he offered. “I can take care of the east side of the building.”

“What’s that saying, Dawson? Too many cooks spoil the broth. I can handle it.”

Eight years of submarine duty had taught him a valuable lesson: hit pause before you react and say something you’ll later regret.

“I plan to carry out my orders from Admiral Samuels,” he said in a measured tone. Then, he gestured to the east wall of the ferry terminal. “That’s where I’m starting. Whatever we do, let’s be safe.”

Mathews shot him a death stare, and then grudgingly pointed to where she had already planted charges. Together, they mapped out where they’d place additional charges.

Standing next to the east wall, he molded the blocks of C4 in his hands, affixed them to the joists, and inserted the wireless fuses. After positioning his last cake on a joist, he met her on the dock where she was molding her last block of C4 into a ball.

She inserted a fuse, cocked her arm, and hurled the ball high onto a ledge close to the ceiling. “One for good luck.”

They retreated to a safe distance. Both he and Mathews raised the antennae on their remote detonators, then powered them on. Lights blinked red then green. Each positioned a finger on the detonation button.

“On the count of three,” she said. “Three, two, one. Fire in the hole.”

Thirty simultaneous explosions sent out clouds of dust, and sharp thunderous booms bounced off buildings across the river and echoed back. The ferry terminal did its best to remain standing, but after several agonizing seconds, the groans and creaks began. A moment later, it seemed to surrender and collapsed in a heap of rubble that roiled the water.

As Mathews briefed Doctor Perkins on the successful demolition over her walkie-talkie, Dawson decided he’d give the news to Admiral Samuels face-to-face.

In the quad, Lisette stopped running, turned, planted her feet wide, and folded her arms. She waited for Sandy to catch up.

“I’m not going to Medical Clinic 3,” Lisette told her. “You can’t make me.”

Breathing hard from the chase, Sandy held out her hand. “That’s fine. I don’t like that place, either. I have another office. We’ll do the exam there. It’s kind of messy, though.”

“Pinky swear?” Lisette held out her pinky.

Sandy gave her a serious look. “Pinky swear.”

Locking pinkies with Sandy, Lisette felt much better.

Sandy was right about the mess. Her office in Heisenberg Hall was stacked tall with boxes, and fat books piled high on her desk. She cleared the books off the desk so it could serve as an examination table. Lisette hopped up.

Sandy listened to her heart, looked in her ears, pressed around her stomach with her fingertips, and took her temperature and her blood pressure.