Primal Shift: Volume 2 (A Post Apocalyptic Thriller) Page 7
Romeo’s expulsion would mark the first person to ever be forcibly removed from New Jamestown. It was as simple as opening the gate and removing the cuffs.
“What if he’s telling the truth?” Lou asked, not caring if Romeo heard or not.
She’d been thinking of that very thing since the kid began flapping his lips. Larry had already told Dana about Patty Mae’s brainwashing, but what if there was more he was covering up? What if her death hadn’t really been a horrible accident, but a murder? The stubborn streak she’d inherited from her father wanted the truth, no matter where it led. Even if that truth revealed Romeo’s story to be utter bunk.
“We send him out now, and we may never know,” Lou was saying.
“That’s right,” Romeo said, “There’s more to tell, too, and you won’t believe the half of it.”
“Keep a lid on it,” Dana snapped. She took a deep breath. “What are you proposing, Lou? That we defy Larry’s orders.”
“I’m proposing we get to the bottom of what’s been going on. Sure, you’re a young woman and to my knowledge ain’t never been married, so it’s maybe hard to fathom what it’s like to be in my shoes. Losing someone you love deeply only to learn the details surrounding their death might be a big fat lie.”
“Might,” she said.
“But how we gonna know if we send him through that gate?”
Only one of the trailers that lined the gravel path wasn’t being used. It had become a kind of storage shed when the main compound building was being erected and remained as such ever since. Dana pointed over to it.
“Today’s your lucky day, Romeo.”
The potential that the idea would blow up in her face was strong, the consequences of which would undoubtedly be bad. So, too, was the prospect of discovering a truth she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to hear, but one she couldn’t stop herself from wanting to know.
PRIMAL SHIFT 7: Sacrifice
Carole
They could hear the shrieks and the cries of the Wipers behind them as they raced up South Main Street. Without street lights, the roads were difficult to navigate. The moon looked down on them through thick cloud cover offering some much needed illumination. Carole, Russell, and Josh knew there would never have been time for all three of them to make it into the air duct in time. Besides, that would have given away their hideout and the nine others waiting underground for them to return. Surely, Holly had followed orders and clamped the vent shut when Russ and Josh were captured.
Shots rang out behind them. The Wipers had rounded the corner, and now they were firing. Sparks ricocheted off abandoned cars and the asphalt at their feet. They would go the long way around and hopefully lose the Wipers when they ducked into the 7-Eleven.
The group was just pulling even with 6th Street when they were bathed in the warm glow cast by a pair of headlights. A heavy truck was approaching. More gunfire zipped by as a Humvee skidded to a stop barely 10 feet away. The driver and passenger doors swung open, and two men in blue camo sprang out, aiming M-4 carbines at them.
“Don’t shoot,” Carole screamed. “We’re not one of them.”
The driver waved his rifle. “Hurry, get in. We only have two seats, so you better squeeze.”
The driver then leaned over the hood and started firing back. A moment later, both men were inside. The driver hit the gas, and the vehicle charged through the intersection. Bullets dinged off the armor plating, and Russell leaned in toward Josh, who was sandwiched on a flat board between them. They were going really fast now, and Carole was happy to be escaping the Wipers. She was in the middle of thanking them for saving their lives when the front left tire of the Humvee clipped the low silhouette of an abandoned sports car. The truck suddenly jerked, skidding up on its side before impacting another vehicle. Josh was thrown immediately forward and into the windshield. Carole’s face slammed against the driver’s seat.
The engine was still rumbling when hands began pulling her from the wreck, asking if she was all right, sounding as though they were a million miles away. Then she saw the face of the soldier who’d saved her. Russell was there, too, but not the other two. From down the street, the Wipers must have seen what had happened and began heading their way, firing wildly.
“What about Josh?” she asked.
“Josh and Petty Officer Lewis are dead,” the man said.
A name tag over the right breast pocket of his uniform read, Callahan.
“God bless the Army,” Carole said.
Callahan hurriedly pulled a rucksack from the Humvee as well as his rifle. “Not Army, Lady. We’re Navy. But I accept.”
Russell put an arm around Carole while the soldier fired down the street to keep the Wipers at bay. A number of them were weaving between cars, some ducking for cover, slowly closing the distance. The horrible sounds they were making as they charged on made Carole think of the savages on remote islands in the pacific during the age of exploration.
“This way,” Russell said, pointing frantically. “We can enter the 7-Eleven from the rear.”
The soldier inserted a fresh magazine and pulled the charging handle. “What’s in the 7-Eleven?”
“Our only shot at staying alive,” came Russell’s quick reply.
They made their way across 6th Street and ducked behind the row of businesses where the Victoria’s Secret and convenience store were located. The goal was to get to the store before the Wipers could make it around the corner and see where they’d gone.
Callahan took position at the edge of the building, using the angle to cut the corner and keep the Wipers pinned down. They weren’t well disciplined or particularly well trained given the erratic nature of their attacks, but even stray bullets could sometimes get lucky.
Russell and Carole reached the back door. It was a flat metallic job without a handle, but Russell had removed the locking latch long ago so he’d have an entrance in the case of an emergency. But without something to grasp, prying it open wasn’t going to be easy, not in the dark.
“I left a chisel out here, and I can’t find it,” Russell shouted in a panic, and he dropped on all fours, rummaging through the high grass with his hands. Carole did the same, terrified that any second now the Wipers would have them surrounded.
Callahan turned back. “You two better hurry up.”
There was a tactical flashlight on the edge of Callahan’s rifle, and Russell yelled for him to toss it over. Callahan did, but the time it took to detach and throw it meant the Wipers had managed to close that much more ground.
Russell turned the light on, and a second later saw the chisel, wedged against the edge of the building. He picked it up, dug the tip between the door and the frame and worked to pry it open. Callahan was already falling back at a full run. Not because he saw them making progress, but because the Wipers were nearly on top of him.
Larry
“We owe a greater debt to the original Jamestown colony of 1607 than any of you can imagine,” Larry said, gripping the edges of the podium with both hands. “More than just a namesake. The brave men and women who landed on the shores of the James River over 400 years ago were strangers in a strange land, surrounded by hostile Indians, struggling against disease, starvation, and other, unspeakable horrors. Today, we find ourselves facing similar threats. An evolving enemy bent on stealing our possessions, our freedom, our lives. In effect, destroying all we’ve managed to salvage from The Shift. This may feel like the same country you knew and loved, the one most of you grew up in, but like our ancestors of old, trust me when I tell you we are foreigners in a strange and terrifying land. That, dear people, is the reason I’ve brought you all here this morning. To discuss the coming changes.”
The throng of colonists and cult members who filled the gymnasium shifted uncomfortably. Larry had worked hard this past month to soften the rougher parts of how he spoke. The use of profane language, the incessant use of sexual analogies, derogatory comments towards women: all things that weren’t entirely gone, sinc
e they were part of the very fabric of his being. But Larry was a survivor, a man willing to do whatever it took to get his way and accomplish what he set his mind to. Some of the members of the colony were turned off by his crass manner, some, judging by the looks in their eyes at this very moment, surely despised him. He was OK with that. Because soon, they would come to recognize his true fucking genius and that without him, they would all be dead.
Early on, Timothy had given Larry a book about Julius Caesar called The Transition from Roman Republic to Empire. Caesar’s adopted son, Octavian, started out as a candyass as well as a sadistic murderer, and yet within a short time he would become Caesar Augustus and lead Rome into its most glorious period. If a pimply 19-year-old, 2,000 years ago could pull it off, then you could bet your ass that Larry could, too.
“Here’s my pledge to all of you. I submit that within a few weeks our food problems will feel like nothing more than a faint memory. I’ve commissioned that our foraging groups be doubled. In addition, as many are aware, canned goods throughout the city have been disappearing, and so I’ve decided to set aside a piece of land allocated for crops. Beets, cabbage, and carrots to start us off, with others to follow.
“Of course, all of this comes at a price. Some of you have taken advantage of the present situation and gotten a free ride. And I’m gonna tell you the buck stops here. Starting now, the three-strike system is abolished.”
Thunderous applause erupted from the crowd. Even Finn, in a way, one of the newest members of New Jamestown was clapping madly until Joanne laid her hands over his. Larry wasn’t done.
“In its place,” he continued, “I’ve instituted the one-strike rule. Failure to pull your weight, failure to show up for a single work detail, will now result in a public whipping. A second offence will represent an immediate and irrevocable banishment from New Jamestown.”
The audience was stunned. Perhaps the hardest hit was Dana since she would be the one dishing out these punishments. The need for order and obedience wasn’t in question, but public whippings? What next? Hanging people from the walls? She glanced over and saw a similar disdain on Timothy’s face. But not the other cult members. Sure, they weren’t wearing those plastic flight attendant smiles like in the old days, but their new stoic paramilitary expressions were perhaps even more unsettling. If Dana thought Timothy was upset, she was about to really see the steam shoot out his ears.
“As such,” Larry went on, “it’s only fitting that the principles set forth by All Father also be updated.” Larry pulled a sheet off a white board that stood directly behind him. On it in point form were New Jamestown’s new principles:
The First Principle: Hurt no living thing by either action or omission without justification.
The Second Principle: Non-essential technology separates man from his creator and should be avoided at all costs.
The Third Principle: While all men and women are created equal, some are more equal than others.
The Fourth Principle: The consumption of drugs is forbidden and punishable by expulsion from New Jamestown. Alcohol should be consumed with moderation.”
The Fifth Principle: From this point forward, Larry Nowak will remained head of New Jamestown indefinitely.
Larry hadn’t even finished working through all of them when Timothy rose and stormed from the gymnasium. It hadn’t been Larry’s intention to start a war, but by putting down in writing what had always seemed obvious to him, he saw now that a conflict with Timothy was inevitable. And somewhere in the back of Larry’s mind he realized he was about to feel what it must have been like for All Father.
Finn
It wasn’t long after Larry finished the speech in which he effectively declared himself king of New Jamestown that Finn and Joanne left for Ely State Prison. They were suddenly very glad to be away, although the prospect of returning to the accusation they’d skipped a work detail left them feeling decidedly uneasy. Joanne was staring out the window, watching the sagebrush, as they made their way south along Nevada’s Route 93A. A long two-lane highway that stretched into infinity. To Finn, it looked like they were in the middle of nowhere, but Lou’s directions had been clear. West along I-80 and then south when they reached the 93. In the distance, were the peaks of the Goshute Mountains, just where Lou said they’d be. Ely State Prison and the answers both of them hoped to find there was still about two hours away. A gargantuan amount of time spent between two people who hardly knew a thing about their past. Didn’t make for great conversation. Joanne’s only existing memory was of that open field with tall grass, and it was with a certain amount of pain that Finn had explained its origin. A screen saver from Tevatron’s main server. An image stuck in the minds of only God knew how many.
Securing supplies for the journey this trip wasn’t nearly as simple as it had been the last time he’d come to Nevada. That had been before the threat of starvation had sent the colony down a slippery slope toward tyranny. Most of what they got came from Lou. Bottles of water, pumped up from the river, using the windmill and then filtered in a blue 50-gallon barrel. Tasted like horse piss, but he was told it was safe to drink. Food had been similarly scarce. Some smoked rabbit as well as a large hunk of mystery meat that Lou suggested Finn not ask about. The word going around camp was that wild dogs were being shot by the scavenging groups Larry sent out on a daily basis. Lou’s final gift to Finn had been a scoped .30-06 hunting rifle along with a handful of bullets. Not enough for much of a gun battle. Although it was enough to defend themselves from anyone intending to do them harm. Perhaps the real purpose for the gun would be as a means to hunt for food once supplies began running thin.
Joanne was still staring out the window, lost in thought, the index finger of her left hand twisting her long dark hair into rings. She was a beautiful, dare he say, stunning woman, and back in New Jamestown Finn wasn’t blind to how many of the men, married or not, gravitated towards her. For her part, Joanne seemed largely oblivious to their advances and innuendoes. Not that Finn thought she was playing dumb. Her strategy, if one could call it that, seemed to be refusing to read between the lines. If they wanted something, they sure as hell better have the balls to come right out and say it.
She glanced over and caught him staring. Finn snapped back to the road, feeling a blush rise in his cheeks.
A knowing little smile formed on her face.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Finn offered.
“Is that all you think they’re worth?”
He grinned and found removing it from his face was no easy task. This woman made him smile in a way no one had before. Dana was attractive, but far too idealistic and trusting. Before she disappeared, he’d often wondered if Carole had a thing for him. Nothing the woman had said. More just by the way her eyes seemed to follow him across the compound. But in each of those cases, that indescribable zing of electricity that sometimes passed between two people wasn’t there.
“I’m worried about the kind of person I am,” she said after a moment.
Finn saw she was serious. “You seem like a mighty fine person to me.”
“Yeah, I do now, but what was I like before? We’re not heading to the state governor’s mansion to read a long list of the great things I did, Finn. We’re heading to a state prison. What was I in there for? What did I do to get there?” She paused, and he could feel her looking at him. “What did you do?”
He didn’t answer.
“You know, don’t you?”
“I know what my file says I did. Although for the life of me I can’t imagine ever having done something like that.”
“It was murder, wasn’t it?”
Finn nodded reluctantly. “First degree.”
The deep breath Joanne took then made him wonder if she suddenly didn’t feel safe.
“You don’t seem like the dangerous type to me,” she said studying him up and down.
He laughed. “Well, you never can tell, can you? It’s always the quiet ones, isn’t that what they say?”
“What makes us who we are Finn? You know, ever since I came out of that isolation chamber I’ve been asking myself that question, and I haven’t come up with anything resembling a satisfying answer yet. Look at the Wipers. They lost every sense of what it meant to be human, and look what they’ve become. Animals.”
“Yes, but not all of them,” Finn said. “At least, not in the beginning.” He was thinking of Betsey, the woman he’d met at the diner. “When all this started, I’d see Wipers running from danger, hiding, without a single sign of violence, but guess what, those were some of the first to die. Mother Nature’s a cold lady indeed, let me tell you. Wasn’t long before the peace lovers were weeded out by the strong. But you don’t need a Wiper to see that. Just look what happened to Rainbowland.”
“What’s Rainbowland?”
“Exactly. That’s what New Jamestown used to be called, but now it’s gone extinct, thanks in large part to people like Larry and the Wipers. See, it was the protective bubble of law and order that gave peace lovers the luxury of nonviolence. And yet, once all of that broke down, it was only a question of time before the most aggressive began scaling a mountain of bones to reach the top of the food chain.”
“So, you’re saying they aren’t evil,” Joanne said, not entirely believing it.
“I’m not sure about good and evil. Everyone’s fighting for themselves, that much I know. On some level, even the Wipers must think they’re in the right. All I can say for sure is they’re exactly what Mother Nature wanted. Just don’t ask me why.”
“And what about us?” she asked. “Where do we fit into this mess? Were you born a killer, or did life shape you into one?”
Finn didn’t take his eyes off the road when he spoke. “Guess we’re about to find out.”
Carole
Carole held the empty plastic milk jug under the dingy pipe and turned the valve. A trickle of water came out, and she made sure to collect every precious drop. They were back in the boiler room, surrounded outside by Wipers trying desperately to find them. As they fled through the storage room of the 7-Eleven and the hole in the wall, Russell had reached back and pulled an empty coke machine to cover the entrance. After that, he had yanked the cable lowering the steel plate. The ruse wouldn’t last forever, but hopefully it would buy them enough time to devise an escape plan. Staying here was no longer an option now that the Wipers knew of their presence. But the failure of their desperate mission to return with food, and for Carole, her children, had only highlighted the dire need to flee.