Generation M (9 page)

Normally, in the middle of the afternoon, kids looking to trade, or just hanging out, crowded the Portland Trading Zone. Today, only a girl with a rag wrapped around her nose and mouth rolled by on a skateboard, and a small group of kids milled around a park bench.

Jordan and Eddie thought the Pig explained the absence of activity; kids were afraid of catching it.

The streets were as empty as the trading zone, though Jordan noticed they were being watched. Curtains and shades moved in windows as they passed.

Jordan spun around when a branch snapped behind them. He saw nothing, but he sensed danger. Certain someone was following them, he eyed driveways and the narrow spaces between houses, considering each path as a possible escape route. He steered Eddie to the center of the street so if kids chased them, they’d have more directions to run in.

Jordan slipped his hand into the pack and gripped the knife handle. If it were true that the Pig was spreading, the potato he had moved to his pack was a prized possession.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Eddie grimace as he clutched his sides. He bent forward, but kept trudging ahead anyway.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Jordan asked.

“Great,” Eddie said.

Eddie was tough, but he was far from feeling great. Jordan wondered how much longer his sick friend would last on grit and determination.

A Jimi Hendrix song played in a nearby house. “The first time I met DJ Silver, he was playing Hendrix,” Jordan said.

“What’s Silvy like?”

Jordan whistled. “Full of himself, but he’s pretty cool. The Port is right off the highway in Mystic. We’ll stop there to see what he knows.”

“I want him to dedicate a song to Mel,” Eddie said.

Mel and Abby had been best friends. Jordan always thought Eddie liked Mel, but his friend was too shy to approach her.

He nudged Eddie. “Is she your girlfriend?”

Eddie’s eyes softened. “I like her a lot.”

“What song are you going to dedicate?” Jordan asked.

“
Purple Rain
. You talked about Wenlan in your sleep.”

Jordan’s jaw dropped. “What did I say?”

Cans rattled behind them, and Jordan pulled his hand from the pack with a firm grip on the knife. Two dogs were rooting through a pile of trash.

“What did I say about Wenlan?” Jordan asked again, his heart racing from the surge of adrenaline.

“Something about missing her. You like her?”

Jordan shrugged. “She’s okay, I guess.”

Eddie cocked an eyebrow. “She’s more than okay.”

“Did I say anything else?”

“What’s it worth to you?” Eddie had a teasing gleam in his eyes.

Jordan pointed his finger. “Just wait. I’ll get you.”

“I’m shaking,” Eddie said.

Horsing around the way they used to was having a positive effect on them. Eddie walked taller and grimaced less, and Jordan’s paranoia about their perilous situation eased, his mind less troubled by the hundreds of frightening “what if” scenarios.

A block ahead on the right, the front yard of a house had a smoldering fire pit. Wispy smoke rose from the pit like steam off the street after a hard summer rain.

“I got a bad feeling about that place,” Jordan said and steered Eddie to the left side of the street.

When they were opposite the house, both boys doubled over and gagged from a sickening odor. Jordan felt as if two oily fingers had been jammed up his nose. The stench left a rancid, metallic taste in the back of his throat.

He grabbed Eddie’s arm and dragged him until they were away from horrible smell.

“Oh my God,” Eddie cried. “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Jordan said, spitting to rid the taste from his mouth. The air was fresher, but he feared the odor would linger in his memory for a long time. “I don’t want to know.”

Lieutenant Dawson had fifteen minutes to himself before Lieutenant Mathews came to deliver antibiotic pills for him to pass out, and to meet the cadets of Biltmore Company. His cadets would soon fall under her command.

Seated at his desk, he reread the note he had penned.

Being assigned to Colony West. Perkins claims the CDC is working to develop and distribute the antibiotic outside the colonies. We have to take action ourselves. We need to increase production at the Alpharetta plant. Who has the expertise to operate the plant? Who can you trust? Find them. Talk to them. Situation at Colony East is volatile.

Dawson folded the note and tucked it carefully inside the stack of cadet medical profiles on his desk. Presenting the profiles to the new leader of Biltmore Company was a routine matter. Lieutenant Mathews would pay little, if any, attention to the package before she delivered the profiles to the medical team at Atlanta Colony. Sandy, on the other hand, would review every profile in detail once the cadets arrived.

Next, he found the profile for Tabatha Williams, knowing Sandy would pay extra attention to it. He’d spoken to Sandy many times about Tabby’s reoccurring nightmares.

In Tabby’s Issues and Strengths section, he wrote: Monitor channel 17.

Channel 17 was a seldom-used frequency and part of his contingency plan. If he found himself operating outside the system, he needed a way to contact Sandy inside Atlanta Colony.

He returned Tabby’s profile to the pile and then sealed all of the profiles in a pouch.

Mathews knocked on the door as though she were punching a speed bag.

Dawson left the pouch on the table and opened the door. “Is that necessary, Lieutenant?” he asked, gesturing to the gun strapped to her hip. “You’ll be meeting many of my cadets for the first time. First impressions are very important. You don’t want to frighten them.”

Mathews narrowed her eyes. “We’re fully exposed on the northern perimeter. The fence is no longer electrified, and every security resource has been assigned to secure the route leading to the airport.” She gave a little, snippy sniff. “You tell me, Dawson, is carrying a weapon a smart precaution to take?”

“You’re right. A rag-tag army of twelve-year-olds is about to invade the colony. It’s a good idea to arm yourself.”

His dose of sarcasm brought her to a boil, and her cheeks reddened.

Mathews rested her hand on the Navy-issue Colt 45. “Look, I don’t have all day.”

“We’ll start on the first floor and work our way up,” Dawson told her. “Where are the pills?”

She produced an amber bottle from her shoulder pack. “I’ll pass them out. Are any of your cadets experiencing symptoms?”

Dawson’s heart rate spiked, and he curled the corners of his lips slightly upward to hide his concern.

“Leave some with me in case I need to administer any second dosages.” He relied on every ounce of discipline and control he possessed to speak in a calm, steady tone.

“Radio Doctor Levine if you need more pills,” she replied sharply. “The pills are being stored in Doctor Perkin’s lab in Medical Clinic 17. Levine will administer the dosages.”

He nodded, trying to appear thoughtful. “That’s a good option, but a cadet might need to take a pill in the middle of the night when Doctor Levine isn’t available.”

“Levine will handle it. He’s your only option.” Mathews glanced at her watch. “Can I meet my cadets?”

With his head spinning, he led her down the hallway and into the wing of seven-year-old cadets.

“Fall out,” he shouted.

Soon, ten cadets had formed a neat line outside of their living quarters.

“Good afternoon,” Dawson said.

Mathews stepped in front of him. “I’ve got it, Dawson.”

He bit his tongue hard. His petty issues with Mathews were minor compared to the larger goal of producing and distributing pills to the kids outside the colonies.

She marched down the line of girls. “I’m Lieutenant Mathews. I want to get to know you all better. Michelle. Who’s Michelle?”

Michelle Timilty, who was easy to spot with her red hair and freckles, raised her hand.

Mathews kneeled. “Hmmm. This could become confusing. I’m Michelle, too. I have an idea. My older brother called me Meesh. Would you ladies rather call me Lieutenant Mathews, Michelle, or Meesh?”

“Meesh,” they shouted in unison.

Mathews smiled. “Meesh it is. When we get to Atlanta Colony, I’d like for all of us to do some fun things. Any ideas?”

“Stay up late,” Cadet Barnes said.

“Lieutenant Dawson makes us turn the lights out at eight,” Tabby said.

“Yeah, no talking either,” Cadet Francona chimed in.

Mathews swiveled her head Dawson’s way and said with a grin, “No talking after eight, huh? What kind of company leader are you?”

He clenched his jaw as rage-induced perspiration trickled into his eyes.

Mathews joked around some more with the cadets and then gave each one a pill.

“Crunch it up or swallow, your choice.” She finished off by saying, “I’ll see you tomorrow, ladies. Bright and early.”

The introductory meeting scene repeated itself on the second, third, and fourth floors with the rest of the Biltmore Company cadets. Mathews won them over with an abundance of smiles, jokes, and the promise of doing fun things together. She told them facts about herself that seemed to grab their interest. She was shy growing up. She played on a championship Frisbee team in college. Her mom had taught her that playing fair and square was important, but it was also important to win.

“Winners shine,” she had told them.

After Mathews had passed out the last pill, Dawson escorted her to the Biltmore’s front door.

“Forgetting something, Dawson?” she asked.

“What? You expect a salute?”

“The medical profiles.”

Dawson nodded and soon returned with the pouch. “Take good care of my cadets.”

Mathews snatched the pouch and walked away without a word. He watched as she climbed into a Humvee and raced off.

Dawson hadn’t forgotten a thing. Having shown so little regard for the profiles, he hoped she’d see no reason to study them. That accomplished, he now needed to formulate a plan for him and Jonzy to steal pills from Medical Clinic 17.

Winners shine.

Abby gripped the banister and waved her other arm through the air to clear away spider webs as she climbed the stairs.

Survivors had once occupied the dwelling next to the alley, evidenced by the heaps of trash on the floor. Now it was silent as a tomb and dark with shadows.

She reached the second floor, then the third, her fingertips plowing up dust on the banister. The shadows darkened, and silence pressed in on her as if she were deep underwater.

On the fourth floor, she turned right and crashed face first into a sticky veil of spider webs. She licked her lips and sucked on the strands that stuck to her tongue, wishing they had taste. She continued down the hall to the second room on the left, dragging her left hand along the wall for guidance.

She entered the room, and wading through crumpled paper, empty cans and plastic bottles, and blankets, she moved to the wall, expecting to find a door. Panic bubbled up her throat when her hands discovered only a boarded window.

Toby had told her how to get to the roof. Had she remembered his directions correctly?

Retracing her steps, she breathed easier when she discovered she had overshot a bedroom door. Soon, she was standing outside on the flat roof.

The rooftop told the story of the kids who had once lived in the building. A pillow stuffed inside a plastic garbage bag, along with empty cans and food wrappers scattered about, suggested some had camped here, maybe sleeping outside to stay cool on summer nights. When Abby saw a spear made from a flagpole and tipped with a razor blade, she wondered if the roof had served as a guard post. An arsenal of bricks and rocks piled close to the edge confirmed that suspicion. Rocks and crude spears raining down from high above would have given any potential intruders second thoughts.

Colony East rose in the distance about three miles away. The vista gave her a good sense of where she had come from and where she and Toby must go to meet Jonzy.

Toby had said the rooftop would be the best place for radio communications with Jonzy, and he was right. Nothing stood in her line of sight between her and the tops of the tall buildings. The hairs stood on the back of her neck in anticipation of speaking with Jonzy at midnight, less than eight hours from now.

She removed the two-way radio from her waistband and clicked the button, murmuring in relief upon hearing the hiss of white noise. She turned the radio off and set it on the roof.

Sensing her stomach was about to experience a fresh tsunami of cramps, Abby gathered the lumpy pillow and lay on her side. The surface of the roof was a layer of pebbles stuck in tar. As the pain in her gut intensified, she removed the pillow from under her head to let the sharp bite of pebbles against her scalp create a diversion.

After several minutes, the cramping lessened, and she rolled onto her back. Looking up, she wondered when, or if, Lexi would return to the alley. That started dark thoughts snowballing. Lexi had tricked her.

Unable to do anything about the betrayal, Abby closed her eyes and took a journey in her mind, picturing herself at the cabin on the lake in Maine. Touk and Jordan and Toby were all on the dock with her. She dove in and swam underwater until her lungs ached, and when she broke the surface, ripples spread out in every direction.

Abby forced her eyes open, trading the comfort of her fantasy for the bitter reality of her ravaging hunger. She had to stay awake and alert.

A car engine fired up. Thinking Toby had returned, she shot to her feet and raced toward the side of the roof that looked over the alley. Her legs wobbled from weakness, and she teetered from the dizzying height. She dropped to her knees and stretched out flat on her belly, hanging her head over the edge. Someone was backing the car out of the alley.

Abby crawled along the edge as the car outpaced her. For an instant, looking straight down, she saw the driver had on a blue Colony East uniform. It was Lexi. Lexi was stealing the car.

By the time Abby reached the corner of the building, Lexi had backed into the street. Abby picked up a brick and hurled it in frustration. The car was driving forward when the brick struck the rear window, cracks in the glass webbed out from the point of impact. Lexi sped off and was soon out of sight.