After the Birds

Chapter Three

Remerton

NY, USA

2039

Andy

It’s not difficult to follow the soldiers at a comfortable distance. When we need to get closer, I pull the small, felted boots I made for Zoya on her paws. I’m careful about maintaining Zoya’s claws, but there’s still the risk of someone hearing them scrape against some surfaces. Asphalt is softer and absorbs the sound of her claws, but cobble stones or concrete is harder. She now jogs faithfully next to me and the excitement about stealthily following someone is noticeable for both of us. Zoya is in wandering mode, and I’ve assumed my alter ego as one of the shadows. I’m not just tracking them to see where they’re going, but I also want to find out why they’ve chosen Remerton and possibly where they come from.

I reluctantly admit that their leader, the female colonel, intrigues me. And why did they take two Loxi prisoners? One leader and one complete rookie. They must be after information since it’s obvious they’re new to the Remerton area. Everybody who’s ever stayed around here, soon finds their way around. You also learn which people or areas to avoid at all cost. Especially if you ever lived here before the birds. Or “pre-birdy-nom-nom” as Ebba used to call it, while she was still alive. Apparently, a quote from some ancient movie. I immediately push away the thought about Ebba. If I’m going to be able to focus on following the newcomers and keep my shadow-status, I can’t think about my childhood friend.

Instead, my thoughts return back to the colonel, especially as the soldiers change direction and jog toward the harbor. If they really have vehicles, they need access to the wider roads that aren’t full of debris and skeletal remains. The highway passing the northern part of the city has tons of burned and gutted car wrecks at the edges, but the middle is clear. Ogden once told me once that the military drove through the highway with tanks and pushed away all the cars blocking it. The noise from that was so loud, it could be heard across half of Remerton. I clamp down on my brain as I realize, I don’t want to think about Ogden either.

The colonel though, she’s a new face around here and I still can’t understand why she didn’t just shoot me. She blinded me with her flashlight and even if I aimed at where I thought she was, she could have easily stepped aside. But perhaps she was the last great humanitarian? I laugh quietly to myself. That would be something. I have not met very many people showing their big hearts in this city. In the countryside, where farmers have created small societies where survivors can work for food and board, some people have their humane attitudes intact. I often get offers from people in different settlements to stay for good. That will never happen.

I wonder if this colonel is a genuine military person. By that I mean, was she in the military before the birds or is this a militia that was created to keep order—or to sell expensive protection to farmers or settlements? But if that’s the case, what are they doing in downtown Remerton? They seem to have reconnoitered, as they knew the name of the Loxi gang, but that must have happened while I was in the hill country west of Remerton. A beautiful nature reserve, it is the closest place I’ve ever come to call home since I was thirteen.

But right now, I’m running behind the newcomers, and I can’t let my thoughts wander too much and lose my focus. One mistake is enough for them to discover me. The thought hits me that they might have noticed Zoya and me already. I might be heading straight for a trap, but somehow, I don’t think so.

It is virtually black outside now, and I stop for a few seconds and open one of the small pockets on Zoya’s vest. I take out another of my specially made dog equipment. I have special yellow sunglasses on to enhance details in the dark and it prevents someone from seeing the reflections in my eyes. The risk that someone might catch the reflection in Zoya’s eyes is greater, and no matter if they identify her as a dog or a wild animal, they could shoot her. A few years ago, I found a net that you put across horses’ eyes to protect them from flies. I customized it to Zoya’s much smaller head and made two sets. I place it over her head and adjust it around her ears. I think she actually sees better with it on, but that’s just guesswork. It is more likely because she’s running close to me, using her superior hearing and sense of smell.

The soldiers have reached Ritter Avenue. They cross it and keep moving north. I decide to keep following them. The moon is out now and even if I’m dressed in black and grey cargo pants and a matching jacket under my flak vest, I have no illusions that I’m by any means invisible. I am, however, a competent shadow and part of that is knowing against which background you’re the least visible.

I contemplate running parallel with them on the other side of the car wrecks but abandon that idea since it would only take running into one of the ghosts, which is what the emaciated, drug dependent poor people sleeping on the ground are called, to be discovered. Instead, I keep a couple of hundred meters behind them and close to the meridian.

We move further north and almost reach the area where a tunnel used to connect Remerton with the archipelago. I hear the familiar sound of automatic gunfire and pull my Glock again. Flipping off the safety, I signal Zoya to stay behind me rather than to my left. As fast as I can, I rush forward, crouching with each step, and soon my thigh muscles are burning from the exertion. After running for a few miles, I’m getting tired quicker than normal, but I remind myself that I’ve forced my body through worse.

“Calm down, girl. Stay behind.” I keep my gun steady but in a defensive position. Whatever is happening in front of me, it’s not my fight. At least not yet.
“Oh-ff.” Zoya shows me she understands, but I can hear she’s stressed. She’s not gun shy, but she is an animal. The times we’ve had bullets flying around our ears, she’s always remained calm, but who knows when she’ll hit her breaking point?

We are about forty yards from the fight. I try to make out the colonel, but it’s hard as they’re all dressed alike. That’s the point, I realize that. It’s not at all hard to see who’s attacking them. The Loxi’s red bandannas are easy to spot in the dark. Even if the soldiers travelled in relative darkness, they have obviously underestimated the Loxi gangs’ ability to track. The fact that not even I have noticed them is disturbing. They must have been far enough away for Zoya not to sense them as well. In any case, I have focused on the newcomers and old ghosts, and that’s not good enough.

“Defense pattern delta-three-nine!” The colonel’s voice echoes throughout the area and her men move in what looks like an irregular pattern. I count them and at least five are missing. As far as I know, these soldiers didn’t lose anyone in downtown Remerton. They sent eight ahead of the main group and I counted the ones staying back with the colonel to be twenty, her not included.

New weapon’s fire comes from behind the Loxi. Somehow, the soldiers managed to get behind them and attack. I got closer to the wreck of an old truck. A quick glance through the side window and I see the car’s driver, or what’s left of them, like a grey-white set of bones wearing a tattered t-shirt. Someone nicked their jacket a long time ago, I’m sure. I can’t see their feet, but something as valuable as shoes is bound to be gone. The ghosts and the scavengers leave nothing.

Pressing my back toward the side of the vehicle, I follow the events unfolding through the hole where the windscreen once sat. The soldiers have the Loxi surrounded within minutes and soon they disarm them by removing guns and knives. The difference in looks and posture is staggering. The Loxi, who so far have considered themselves kings and queens of Remerton now seem like a ragtag band playing dress-up compared to the strictly uniformed soldiers. The Loxi stands in a group, looking worried and shuffling their feet, while all the soldiers are keeping even distances between each other and looking entirely professional.

“Now listen,” the colonel says, and her alto voice easily carries all the way over to me. “We have disarmed your little group and even you must admit that it went pretty smoothly. Unlike the Loxi, we don’t kill unarmed men and women, nor do we shoot them in the back. Whoever is the mastermind of this failed operation can give word to the Loxi leader that even if we choose benevolence as a rule, we won’t hesitate for a moment to render anyone posing a threat against us or innocent civilians, harmless. As in dead. Understood?”

Nobody answers. This is obviously not good enough for this woman.

“Understood?” Her voice is like a crack of a whip.

“Yeah, damn it.” A gruff, raw voice answers and I can swear it’s Panther. His real name is Patric, but when he joined the Loxi gang and started rising in the ranks, he took a new name, which he no doubt fancied as a sign of strength. Stupid.

“Good. All right. Follow my men now. They’ll tend to you and make sure it takes you a bit longer than normal to get back to your headquarters. I’m sure your leader will send out scouts when you’re missed.”

“Shit. They’re going to shoot us anyway, Panther.” A woman moans, hysteria in her voice. “I’ve got to get home to our kids. Why the hell did you have to bring me along?”

Aha. Panther got ‘married.’ And they have surviving children. As if marital bliss wasn’t enough, Panther had to bring his wife on a dangerous raid. He hasn’t developed in the right direction since I was two seconds from killing him.

Four of the soldiers move the Loxi-members out of sight and the colonel signals someone I can’t see. I hit the ground, flat on my stomach, and so does Zoya. Her warmth makes my trembling muscles relax some and I can breathe a little easier. Then there’s a sound I haven’t heard in years. First one engine. Then two. They aren’t exactly purring like cats, but rather sound like the tractors on the 4H farm where I used to spend my summers.

Two large trucks close in and do a one-eighty turn, now facing north. I can make out movements under the tarp on the back of one of them and guess that’s where the soldiers and their prisoners are waiting. Quickly, some of the soldiers threw up short ladders against the backs of the trucks.

That’s when I see a shadow. One like me. It closes in slowly and at first, I think it’s just a curious ghost who will soon be discovered by the soldiers. Instead, it is approaching them, little by little, moving as if it’s melting into the ground. It takes me a few frozen moments to understand that this shadow has their sight set on the leader. The colonel. She who didn’t shoot me.

Zoya gives a startled “wif” when I place a determined thumb against her chest. “Stay.” This is a command that we’ve only used in training, since I’d never dream of leaving her behind for long. Even when I find dwellings and stores to investigate, she always goes in with me. A dog is valuable. For me as a companion and a friend, and for protection, for others—food.

Now I sneak behind this other shadow, hoping to remain in the person’s dead angle, slightly to the side. That way, they’d have to turn around fully to spot me. If I’m lucky, I can take them out before the soldiers see me and realize what’s going on.

Unfortunately, I’ve miscalculated the size and strength of the man crawling on the ground. He has no red bandanna, but I can swear that he’s at the very least hired by the Loxi to take over in case Panther’s group failed. My thoughts rush through my brain like missiles that can’t lock on target. If I throw myself over him, and even if I manage to take him completely by surprise, all he has to do is roll over and I won’t be able to mobilize enough strength to render him harmless. I have a bigger chance with my gun drawn. But shooting him will give my presence away.

I turn to Zoya. I can’t see her and that’s good, but I can’t get any moral support from the vision of my dog either. I redirect my gaze back to the colonel and her soldiers. She’s in danger and maybe she’ll have time to fire her weapon, but maybe not. Sweat makes my scalp each and I bite down on the tip of my tongue so hard, I taste blood. I have used that trick more than once to make myself focus. It works this time too. I decided to attempt the impossible.

Without making a noise, I slam into the man’s back in a full body attack and press my Glock in behind his ear. “Don’t move. I’ll blow your brains out if you try.”
The man underneath me jerks and then tries to scissor his legs and roll onto his back. I know he’ll make it if he gets one of his legs completely under us. I fire my gun without hesitation.

Footfalls approach and they’re running. I realize that I should move, but I can’t get up. I might have a chance to get away if I play along as if I surrender.
And there she is again, right in front of me.

“You,” she says, and I guess nothing usually surprises her.

I have only one thought in my head right now. “My dog’s behind me somewhere. She’s well trained and not dangerous to anyone as she doesn’t think I’m in danger. Please, don’t shoot her.”

“Call her over.” The colonel studies me carefully. I suppose I’ve seen better days, but the only thing I can think of is feeling Zoya close to me. I whistle twice. When she shows up out of nowhere, camouflaged by the darkness thanks to her autumn colors, even the colonel flinches. Maybe everyone thought they’d see or hear her coming.

“Good girl,” I murmur and put my hand around her nose. I’m still holding onto my weapon but know I’m going to lose it unless I holster it right this moment. I flip the safety back on and do just that. Nearly falling over, I still manage to get on my feet.

“Andrea. You’re something of a boomerang.” The colonel comes closer and my extra big sense of personal space objects wildly, but I steel myself against the intrusion. Her face is stunning in a no-makeup, weathered kind of way. I fully understand that this is someone I need to know more about. She’s a stranger, and yet I’ve killed for her sake.

“Listen.” The colonel points to the empty truck. “You have to come with us now.”

Continued behind door 4

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