After the Birds

Chapter Nine

Remerton

NY, USA

2039

Andy

“Come on!” Tall Dude’s voice is a hoarse whisper in my ear. I wonder what he thinks I’m doing. Getting ready for Cinderella’s ball, or? I clamp down around the acerbic words that wants to escape, since it’s a waste of time. The shadow that’s approaching will soon be right on top of us. We’re in a darker part here by the wall, and from his calm steps, he hasn’t spotted us yet.

Then I manage to press the handle down a little bit more. Perhaps it’s a matter of corrosion, or dust from the debris. Now the door swings open and it doesn’t squeak too badly, which I feared it might. I shove the guys inside. I don’t have to issue a command to Zoya. She knows what I want her to do and jumps lithely through the doorway, into the room. I pull it almost close. I don’t dare close it completely as the door handle and locking mechanism are so unreliable. It would make too much noise, and besides, we want to leave at some point.

“Damn. It’s pitch black in here,” Tall Dude whispers.

“When he’s left, you can light up one of those yellow rods.” I stand by the door, one of my Glocks ready. I don’t want to shoot anyone. That, if anything, will attract the ones on the roof, and how are we supposed to make it out of here as we have to crawl. There wouldn’t be time.

The man passes the door and doesn’t give it as much as a glance. Even if the lighting is bad, I can tell that he’s a weathered veteran of our time. Someone has cut his face, or perhaps he’s been in an accident. His salt-and-pepper hair is crew-cut. The bushy eyebrows tells me he might be middle-age. He patrols with ease and confidence, most likely not even contemplating the idea of anyone looting the place right this minute. That’s what we are, after all. Three looters and a dog. That’s all right. Everyone’s a looter these days. Even young children are trained to never let anything of value that they come across fall into someone else’s hands. When I was little, there were TV shows about hoarders, people who collected everything. That’s what we’ve become. A society of hoarders.

When the man’s footfalls have died out, I try to calculate how long we have before he returns. We rushed over to this room, he’s walking casually, unhurried, so maybe five minutes?

“Light up the rods. Let’s see what’s left in here.” I don’t know why the guys obey me so willingly, but I’m sued to minding my own business and I like it best if I’m in charge when I’m around other people.

Short Guy lights up a floriferous little tube. It gives off a yellow tinted light. It reminds me of something from the time before the birds, but I can’t articulate what it was. Perhaps I’ve seen one of those tubes before?

The walls around us aren’t untouched since I was here last. That would’ve been too much to hope for. But there are a lot of boxes left. I read the labels and try to remember what Ogeen told me to look out for. Several names of antibiotics end with -in, or -es. Even if I accidentally brought back something other than antibiotics, like anti-inflammatory, or hormones, it was all right. Pain meds were also highly in demand.

I find all kinds of antibiotics in boxes, and several bottles of Vicodin. Mom sometimes used those for her bad back after working in the healthcare business for years and years.

I point to the boxes and the guys start packing them up. I locate bandages and dressings and begin packing that in my sports. As this place has been visited after I was there, I wonder why they haven’t prioritized these things. Keeping wounds clean and protected might just prevent you from having to take a chance on some expired medication. I also find ladies pads and tampons and push as many as I can in the second bag. There are tons of women among the soldiers and the civilians, and they’ll be guarding these supplies with their lives. I can tell that the guys raise their eyebrows, but I don’t care.

After three minutes—I have counted the seconds in my head—Zoya growls again. The yellow tube still shines brightly. I grab it and push it in under my flak vest. The footfalls slow down and I hold my breath as I’m listening. My Glock is holstered, and I remove it soundlessly and flip the safety off. It’s in my muscle memory and happens automatically. I practiced this maneuver and so many others with Ogden. He wasn’t pleased until I could reload blindfolded and knew exactly how to use the guns. I know very well how many people I’ve shot since I was fifteen, but it really doesn’t matter, since one person is one too many.

We hear how the man outside moves something heavy and then he ascends the stairs that I thought was impossible to maneuver because of the debris. There are some voices at a distance, and I think I hear the sound of children as well. It makes me wonder if the ones living on the roof has managed to fix up some of the rooms in the wards above us.

“This is our chance to split,” I whisper to Tall Dude, who is the closest to me. I can barely distinguish between his silhouette in the faint light from the glowing tube inside my vest. Now I take it out and open the door carefully. “We can’t be super careful but try to not fall over.”

“Please. We’re no idiot newbies,” Short Guy hisses, and rushes past me.

I sigh. If he wants to prove something to someone, I don’t mind. I keep and even pace, allowing Zoya to guide me. It means I reach the tunnel at the same time as Short Guy. He’s just wasted energy and is breathing heavily.

“If you can stop gasping, start making your way out,” I say and I know I sound annoyed. It’s something about testosterone-bloated young men that makes me lose my patience. No wonder I gave up on living in a collective.

Tall Dude insists on some sort of ‘Ladies First’ approach and I don’t argue. He’s also armed and more than capable to fend for himself. I crawl quickly through the tunnel with Zoya ahead of me. She whimpers and I understand that she’s not fond of narrow spaces. She shakes herself with obvious relief when we emerge, even if we’re just beneath some thorny bushes.

Tall Dude emerges at last, and Dakota looks pleased. “We might just have ourselves a super-team.” He smiles teasingly.

“Or perhaps not,” I mutter. “How about we hurry back before that huge guy or someone else up top hears us.” I hoist the sports bag and crouches under the thorny bushes. We retrace our steps going ack and reach the helicopter pad without a problem. When we’re about to follow the outline of it, Zoya growls again. I’m caught off guard. Being annoyed with the guys, I’ve forgotten to listen to my dog. I’m sure she’s alerted me more discreetly earlier.

I raise my fist. Fortunately, the other three stop instantly. I suppose rigorous training can be a good thing. I point to my dog, and we crouch even closer to the ground.

Zoya is now gurgling almost inaudibly. I allow myself a few seconds while I check her backpack. She has her modified flak vest on, but again I wonder why there are no helmets for dogs.

I now hear faint sounds from the east, as if branches are breaking. Occasionally, someone murmurs, which makes me think these are not trained looters.
“Mom?” I hear a small, young voice say, only to be shushed at by someone sounding older.

I peer through the branches. From my perspective, I count four pairs of feet, where two pairs are really small, and two are larger. Two kids. Two women, or a woman and a teenager? I show four fingers and measures a mere inch between my thumb and index finger to show that some of them are small.

Dakota pales, but nods that he understands. If we just keeps still, we might not be detected and then we won’t have to confront children.
“I’m thirsty,” I hear a child say. “We’ve been walking forever.”

“I know, Fatima. We’ll find some water soon.” The grown woman sounds exhausted.”

“They’re not from the roof,” I mouth. “They are wanderers.”

I have come across many wanderers, or nomads, as some call them. Most of them are peaceful and cautious. They allow themselves to be tempted by descriptions of wonderful societies that resembles what we used to have before, or an unlimited amount of food and water, or even real homes in houses. What these four are after, I can only guess. Or are they tempted by the ocean?

“It’s so hot,” one child complains. “Can’t we rest some? The baby has to rest too.”

“The baby is resting in momma’s belly, Fatima. We must continue.”

Oh, my God. My eyes feel as if they are bulging out of their sockets. She’s pregnant.

An arrow lands between me and the small family. A child cries out and the mother looks like she’s about to fall. I don’t think. There’s no time for that. Without hesitation, I throw myself forward and pulls the other child and a teenage boy with me toward Dakota and the others. Mor arrows rain all over us, but non hits their mark. Not yet.

“Cover me!” I call out to the men when I run back. They start to fire their weapons behind me and I reach the woman on the ground. Something hits my left upper arm.

The adrenaline is flooding my system and I realize that an arrow must have graced me. I slip sideways, but then my boots finds new grip against the damp ground dn I reach the mother who has pulled a small child in under her.

“We got to go,” I say loudly. “If you don’t come with me now, one or more of those arrows will hit you sooner or later.”

The mother lifts her head and stares at me, her eyes are big, but doesn’t show terror yet. “Who…who’s hooting?”

“The roof people is firing arrows our way. The soldiers are returning fire so we can get away,” I say. “Come with us. You can’t keep walking her with the kids.” I hope she’s not going to question what soldiers I’m talking about, because we’ve immobile too long.

The mother and the child get up and I pull them along. My grip is probably too harsh because the kid, who’s a little girl, whimpers and tries to pull away. Or she’s just scared.

“We have to get back. Now.” Dakota lifts the reluctant child. “Take it easy, girl. Mom’s coming with us too. Now move.”

Tall Dude has picked up the other child, a boy, and I toss the teenager one of the sports bags. “Here. Don’t lose it.”

He doesn’t answer, but holds on tight to the bag as we run bent over in a zigzag pattern behind Dakota. Zoya and I are taking up the rear.
“Her over there has an arrow in her arm,” The boy in Tall Dude’s arms says.

I throw a glance at my left arm and realize that the pain I felt before was when an arrow went straight through my upper arm. My first reaction is to want to pull it out right away, but I know better. It should be done under supervision of a person who knows how to deal with potential bleeding. Besides, if there was something on the arrow, poisoning, or just plain dirt, I don’t want that in my body twice.

We jog until we reach what used to be a roundabout. We’re out of reach of the arrows unless they’re following us, which I think is unlikely. They would lost a lot of their tactical advantage if they move to ground level.

Tall Dude and Dakota puts the kids down and they run over to the woman and grab onto her coat.

“Thank you,” The woman says. She’s older than me, perhaps in her late thirties. She has stunning deep complexion and long, black dreads gathered with a ribbon at the nape of her neck. Her stomach is big and I don’t understand that she can run at all. “My name’s Maya. These are my children. Well, my foster kids, really. They call me mom.” She points to the oldest boy. “This is Nico. The two little ones are twins. Fatima and Faris.”

“And you’re pregnant,” Dakota says and shadows ghost over his face.

“I can’t argue that point,” Maya says and smiles. She rubs the small of her back in a way that I’ve seen pregnant woman do before. Maybe all pregnant women have back pain, or it might just be heavy on the body.

“Where are you heading?” Dacota asks. I’m interested too, but keeps a watchful eye on our surroundings. We’re well enough protected with shrubs and trees around us, but that’s nothing I can take for granted.

“For the coast. I have relatives in one of the fishing villages a bit north of Remerton. We’ve been walking for a long time.” Maya looks east. “I used to spend my childhood summers there.”

Shit. Another dreamer who are looking for their childhood paradise. I get angry. You simply can’t be so gullible and drag innocent children along on such Alice in Wonderland journeys. There should be a law against it in our lawless world.

“The coastal villages don’t exist anymore. All the old Victorian and colonial houses burned down a long time ago.” I know I sound brusque, but someone has to keep these kids from starving to death out on the coast where the terrain isn’t good for growing any sort of crop. Gangs of pirates make fishing trips about as safe as hunting for lions on the savanna. Someone has to set this woman straight and it might as well be me.

“Listen to Andy,” Dakota says quietly. “She’s a local girl and you and your kids are not. Neither are my soldiers and I. Come with us to our camp and get some food and rest. You look like you can give birth at any moment.”

“We haven’t walked this far to give up on our dream,” Fatima says with dignity. She holds her head high, but it’s obvious that she’s exhausted even if she’d never admit it.

“Dreams aren’t wrong.” Dakota puts a gentle hand on the teenage boy, Nico’s, shoulder. “But they should be based in reality, especially the way the world is now. Your childhood fishing village isn’t there anymore. If you thought it would be safer there because it’s a quaint little place, then you might remember that there’s a large dock where anyone with a boat can approach very easily. That’s not a place for a single woman and four kids.”

“The villagers…”

“Aren’t there anymore,” I say, gentler now. I realize I must sound a bit more friendly or she will continue to argue with me just to be right. The kids deserve better. “The fire spread quickly and as far as I know, pirates have settled into the few brick houses that remained intact. At least that’s what I heard a few years ago.”

“Oh, God,” Maya says and closes her eyes briefly. She opens them again and glares at the soldiers. “And who are you? Some militia selling protection?” I approve of her reasoning. She may be a dreamer, but she’s not stupid.

“We’re not selling anything.” Dakota has begun getting restless. “Andy here can tell you she’s been well received. We only got to know her yesterday as she’s from this area. You have to talk as we walk. We can’t remain here. How about it, Maya?”

“What do you say, Andy?” Maya turns directly to me. “You’re not one to mince words. Should I take a chance and rest at these people’s camp with the kids?”

“Is she free to leave whenever she wants to?” I study Dakota’s expression closely. “He’s the one I trust the most of all the soldiers I’ve come across.

“Absolutely.” He answers readily and a quick glance at Tall Dude and Short Guy makes me believe him. Thos two are so transparent, it’s almost ridiculous.
“Bring the kids and rest up. They have doctor there. I don’t know what he knows about OB-GYN stuff, but still.”

“He should perhaps examine you first,” Maya says acerbically and points to my arm. I have almost forgotten the arrow.

“Yeah, probably,” I say and grin.

“Okay.” Miranda eventually nods.

Dakota and Tall Dude lifts a twin each and we’re on the move again. Maya’s steps soon become heavier, and she nearly trips several times. I imagine she wouldn’t be comfortable leaning on Short Guy, so I go against all my principles and give him my baseball bat to hold. It’s like losing a limb, but I can’t use my left arm so well right now and need my right to support Maya. Zoya walks close to her other side without a command from me.

“Lean on me, I say. “It’s not very far actually. A lot shorter than what you had in mind. They even have good food.”

“I heard from Jeanette and Alf that we are having venison tonight.” Dakota smiles broadly. “We often hunt for smaller animals, but one of our trucks hit a deer the other day.”

“Real meat?” Maya looks astonished, and I don’t blame her. I don’t know when I ate anything similar last. When I lived with Ogden and his wife, we had venison and moose sometimes, but even then it was more common with rabbits, squirrels, and hares. They also had some uninfected chickens hidden and that was the last time I ate some eggs.

We follow the road down toward the soldiers standing guard by the boats and the canoes. Two of them help Maya into a boat together with Nico. The twins, Fatima and Faris, sit with me in a wide Canada canoe while Dakota paddles. Tall Dude and Short Guy takes yet another canoe. It only takes a few minutes to cross the water and then its time to get up again. I’m determined to help Maya all the way to the church.

I start to feel dizzy and wonder if I’ve been poisoned after all. Or if it is some delayed reaction from being hit in the first place. That’d be odd since I’ve sustained worse injuries that I’ve taken care of by myself over the years. Now I have to almost count the steps to bet able to walk straight.

“You’re trembling,” Maya says quietly. “Does it hurt?”

“No. Not so bad.” It feels weird, not to mention, entirely surreal that someone should care at all. I can’t remember someone worrying about how I’m doing even if I know that Mom used to. And Ogden.

“You’re pale.” Maya pats my hand where it sits around her waist.

“Look who’s talking,” I say. “You’re limping.”

“My feet are swollen. That can happen when you’re pregnant.” Maya fakes a snooty tone, and then smiles at me. “Honestly, It’s going to be so nice to rest up and know that it’s not just up to Nico and I to keep guard.”

It is a seductive feeling, this whole ‘being stronger together’ concept. For me, such ideas have always backfired when things have gone awry. But to sleep so well as I did in Miranda’s room last night, to give into exhaustion completely and without fear—that’s pure luxury.

“Yeah, make the most of it,” I say without adding too much sentiment into it. It is up to Maya in the end, if she’s going to stay or keep wandering.

When we approach the church, Miranda comes out to meet us, accompanied by several soldiers and some civilians. She looks shocked to see us return with a heavily pregnant woman and several children. Dakota gives a quick report.

Miranda nods to him, Short Guy, and Tall Dude. “Good job. Go and eat. Most of the others have had their lunch, but there’s enough for all of you.” Then she turns to an older woman. “Cora? Show our newcomers to the canteen. When they’ve eaten, bring—Maya, was it?—to the infirmary. Apple should look the children over as well, I think.

“Thanks,” Maya says and nods at me. “Maybe he should look at Andy first?”

Miranda swivels toward me. “What has—dear God. Why didn’t Dakota…Well, you have to eat later. You’re coming with me to the infirmary. Now.”

The woman named Cora supports Maya toward the canteen, and I just stand there, swaying. I feel utterly ridiculous. Zoya presses against my leg as if she tries to keep me on my feet.

“Okay, okay,” I say and start walking. “Don’t yell at me.”

“Your slurring. You can be poisoned.” Miranda places my uninjured arm over her shoulder and keeps me steady with and arm around my waist. Zoya doesn’t say a peep, the traitor.

“Must be a fucking slow poison in that case. I wasn’t dizzy until just now. The arrow’s been in my arm for an hour.”

Short Guy tries to hand me my bat, but I can’t hold it as my good arm are around Miranda’s shoulders. She takes it and then returns her hand to my waist, still holding it.

“That’s a cool bat,” Short Dude says and the way he says it makes me feel like I passed some sort of test.

I nod weakly. I’m done by now and I don’t understand it.

“Let’s go before you fall asleep standing up. Or faint.” Miranda doesn’t eas up but lead me to the room where Apple’s infirmary is located. He gets up from his desk when he sees us.

“And what have you done to yourself? Aha. Arrow. Hm. Let’s see.” He produces a proper pincers and snips the pointy end off the arrow as close to the jacket sleeve as he can. “The should eliminate as much as possible of potential toxic substances or common crap. Now, hold onto your hat.”

Before I have time to hold onto anything at all, ye pulls out the arrow. I can’t help but gasp and then I go weak at the knees for a few seconds. Miranda keps holding onto me with one arm as she works the clasps of my flak vest with her free hand. After that, she pulls down the long zipper of my jacket.

“Sit down, by all means,” the doctor says. I want to remain standing, but I’m so nauseous that I do as he says, hoping Miranda will let go of me. But no. Instead, she helps the doctor remove my vest and jacket. Now I’m sitting on one of the gurneys in the cool room and shivers. Miranda studies the wound the arrow left behind, while the doctor irrigates it with some clear fluid.

“Saline,” he says. “Homemade by Jeanette.”

“Okay.” I hold on tight to the eidge of the gurney with my other hand and try to ignore the pain when he fills a syringe for the third time. “Are you done soon?” I realize I sound like a child, but this whole thing about doctors is an old, very established phobia. When I was little, I had my appendix taken out and the memory of that ordeal lingers. Nowadays I’m glad I don’t still have my appendix. I’ve seen people succumb to perforated appendixes twice. Those memories linger even more.

“Just one more time. Then bandage and all done. The arrow head seems clear of anything that can trip you up now that I’ve cleaned it properly. I understand that you bring presents from the hospital?”

“Not just me. Dakota, Tall Dude, and uhm…” I interrupt myself, embarrassed when I realize that Iv’e renamed the guys so firmly, I really can’t remember their real names. “The others who were part of the team.”

“Tall Dude?” Apple raises a bushy eyebrow. “Oh, you mean Martin? He sure is tall. Martin and Tom. They are best friends, I believe.”

I realize I need to learn people’s real name while I’ here. Damn, I’ll never manage. I fake some patience as Apple examines the wounds one more time.

“You should get stitches, but I have strips to pull the holes in your skin together. That way, I don’t have to torture you any longer. The holes aren’t big and you didn’t nick anything major. As he dresses my arm, his eyes go to the bags by the door. Dakota left the bags there, and Apple’s eyes sparkles behind his glasses when he gets ready to peruse their content.

He places the bags on a table and opens them. Quickly sorting through the content, he places bottles and boxes on the old Ikea shelves that lines one of the walls. When he examines the last bag, half full of bandages, but also ladies pads and tampons, he looks surprised. “This will be popular. I’m going to administer them to the women who has problems the first few days of their cycle. They are used to using something else when it dwindles, but…” He nods and finds some space for those packages as well.

“I wish I could have found some menstruation cups,” I say and hear that I still slur. “That’s what I use, and it makes it so much easier.”

“None of the guys would’ve thought to bring any of this,” Miranda says behind me, making me jump as I haven’t noticed that she’s still here. “You’re making yourself indispensable, Andrea.”

“Andy. Most people call me Andy.” I feel a little steadier now and start putting on my sweater. It’s impossible not to moan as it hits the tender area on my arm.

“I will be the exception to that rule, then.” Miranda helps me pull the sweater down.

“Does anyone ever call you Mira, or something?” I look at her with great interest. The question is a somewhat of a provocation and I know she knows.

“No.”

“Ah.” I want to shrug in that proper nonchalant way, but it would just hurt my arm more than it’s worth. “Do you think I can get something to eat? I mean, if it’s okay?” I pull my jacket on and the vest on top of it, but leave them unfastened. The dizziness has mellowed, and I know I’ll feel better when I’ve had something to eat.

“More than okay. I’ll accompany you. We have some things to discuss.” Miranda motions with her chin toward the door.
“Thanks, Doc,” I say, and Apple raises his hand.

“I’m the one who ows you a debt of gratitude, Andy,” he says.

We swing by Miranda’s room, and I put away my gear. Its still a weird feeling to not have my bat in my hand the who time. Ogden called it my safety blanket, when he was in this most teasing mood. He had a point.

Jeanette and Alf are cleaning up the canteen, but has set aside bread, soup, and make believe coffee for me. Miranda also gets a mug before they remove the large trays and wheel away the kitchen cart.

We sit next to Dakota, and what was his name, Tall Dude…Martin. I repeat his name in my head several times. Martin, Martin, Martin, Martin… There. That ought to do it.

“Ah, there you are. As good as new.” Dakota smiles at me aned I merely nods while I devour bread and soup as if was going out of style at any moment.
“That was a really good scavenger hunt.” Miranda sips her coffee and closes her eyes a few moments. “I want a report about the woman and the children you found on the way back, though.”

Dakota tells her in a concise way about Maya and her trek toward the coast. I get to repeat what I know about the state of these small fishing villages that line the coast. Miranda regards me unwaveringly while I speak, and I can’t make out what goes on behind the even blue eyes.

“It’s time to give you some more information as and exchange for how you’ve risked your life several times for us, ever since we happened upon you in downtown Remerton.” Miranda sets her mug down and then she suddenly flinches and I wonder what could possibly make this together woman react like that.
She looks down on her lap and then gives a crooked smile. “Zoya?” She makes patting movements with one of her hands and keeps her grip of her mug as she thinks someone will steal her coffee. “She has her head on my lap. What does she want?”

“No idea,” I say. “She probably just likes you. When she’s not working, she’s very cuddly.” I hid a grin behind my mug. “If you scratch her behind her ears, you’ll be friends for life.” I truly wants Zoya to get some attention from other people than me. When it comes to her coyalty, I’m not in worried at all. She knows whom she belongs with, and she’s proven her bravery hundreds of times.

“Look at that.” Miranda dedicates a few more moments to Zoya. Then she returns her focus on me. “We came here from Wisconsin. Before then we originated from a military base in Oregon. Our goal has been getting to the East Coast from the beginning. We know that most of the infrastructure here is destroyed, but we hope to salvage certain parts that our reconnaissance team already identified around this city. As it seems—Remerton is the answer to our prayers.”
I don’t understand. “Remerton has been picked dry, pretty much.”

“It has, but the area around this city holds everything a thriving society needs. The forest area. The old farmlands that are still in use to a degree. There’s a wind power plant, which we have our sights on. Some of the old brick structures can be renovated. Where we came from, we had nothing of this, and after our reconnaissance teams came back with their reports, Remerton and its surroundings tickedthe most boxes.”

“It’s cold here in the winters though. Wouldn’t you be better of further south?” I am mesmerized by Miranda’s suddenly enthusiastic and animated way of expressing herself.

“Some states started building walls between them and other states, when the bird flu hit. It had hardly any effect. What it did was cause problems travelling with vehicles and in large numbers later on.”

Walls? This is new to me, as I’ve stayed in my local area since it all happened. And building walls? Serious? That can’t have been a clever idea, considering hos fast the virus spread.

“The way we had to travel from Wisconsin to this location, went via Michigan and Ontario. We lucked out that it was a reasonably mild winter when we left. We had to take our time. Scavenging, providing rest for all of us when required, and so on.” Miranda’s eyes darken and her hands clench into right fists. “We lost some along the way.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” I was sorry, but not surprised. Such a trek in this world where danger was normalized, was dangerous, at best, and a suicide mission at worst. “Are you all real soldiers?”

“No, not all of us. I’m the highest-ranking military that any of us has come across that used to be US army. It took some time, but I managed to fine officers, NCOs and enlisted soldiers from four different bases. After two years, I realized we needed to begin recruiting. It was a slow process, as I was wary of forcing it on people. It’s a lifestyle change to join a miltary unit. It’s not for everyone.”

“I can imagine it isn’t.” I shudder at the thought of blindly following orders and never question a thing.

“Dakota is our rock.” Miranda smiles faintly at Dakota. “He’s my sounding board and right hand man. There’s nobody I trust more. Now that we’ve reached our goal, it’s time to start our projects we planned for. We are expecting other units, serving under other officers.”

“And you’re the commanding officer for them too?” I hope so. IT’s not easy for me to put trust in anyone, but I’m getting to know these particular soldiers. The idea of someone else showing up and taking command doesn’t appeal to me.

“Yes. I’m in principle an acting general, until we find someone who outranks me. Dokay thinks I should promote myself to general officially, but that’s where I draw the line. I’m not a dictator with medals big enough to be seen from orbit.”

“What are your goals then—more precisely? I mean, since you’re here now.” I worry about the answer.

“Do you know Hudskill Vall well?” Miranda’s smile disappears and she’s looking at me with such an edge to her glance, it’s as if she’s trying to be a human lie detector.

I must be careful what I say now. Too much rides on my not giving too much, or, rather, anything away. “Why do you ask?” I drum my fingers against the mug, even if I know she most likely sees right through me and my delay tactics.

“We need a guide for that area.” Miranda speaks lightly, but her tone makes me think she’s trying to lull me into thinking it’s nothing. Just a friendly conversation. “Someone who knows their way around in the woods, and what to expect.” Miranda presses her lips together, perhaps because I glower at her by now. “You’re our best candidate so far.”

“Uh-huh.” I’m getting dizzy again. “And how much say do I have regarding such a mission?? Dakota has promised that Maya is free to leave the camp whenever she wants, but I’m fairly sure that this does not apply to me. They seem to have too much use for me when it comes to my knowledge of the area.

“You’re not a prisoner,” Miranda says haughtily and raises her chin. “That said, we do need your skills. You’re used to taking care of yourself together with your dog.” She pats Zoya again, as if to emphasize her standpoint. “But we can also offer a lot. Safety. Friendship.”

Friendship and safety. Beautiful words and it’s not the first time someone has used them to lure me into their collective. It hasn’t ended well the few times I’ve allowed myself to be persuaded. What can possibly be different this time? Is there any difference between past experiences and this?

“We get along fine,” Dakota says amicably. “Don’t you think?”

“You’re good at pitching your ideas.” I pat my thigh and Zoya abandons Miranda instantly and sits down to my left, waiting for a command. “You’re not the first that are trying to enlist me.”

“I can understand that.” Miranda nods. “You’d be an asset to any faction. Is there anything we can off you that you don’t have access to now?”

“Wow. I’m being proper headhunted.” I laugh huskily. My arm hurts and I’d like to lie down for a while with Zoya’s warmth against my it. Then I force my brain to kick into a new gear and think one step further. During all the years I’ve been getting by alone, before Ogden gave me Zoya, I was never safe. Not during the days, and sure as hell never during the nights. Now that I have my dog, I can relax knowing that she’s a living, breathing alarm. But to always have a full belly, and to go on missions with others is appealing for the first time. I only need a few more seconds to think before I know just what I could ask for.

“If I join you, temporarily, there’s something I want you to help me with. If you don’t agree to that, I’m leaving tomorrow.” I would rather leave right away, but I’mm not stupid. My arm aches and I need some rest.

“Go on,” Dakota says and shifts to face me head on. Martin who hasn’t said a peep nods encouragingly.

“Some of the farmers around Hudskill Vale are people who started going from one settlement to another and simply taking kids and young people as they needed them to work the land. You may have found a way to run your trucks somehow, but the so-called farmers do it the old fashioned way. They send people out in the field to do it by hand. And it’s not like they can quit if they want to. I suppose these farms might have been part of your reconnoitering.” I clear my throat and have to sip some of my cold pretend coffee. “I need your help to breach the last, largest farm, and help me look for my little brother, Theo.”

Miranda’s eyes darken and at first, I think she’s annoyed at such a dangerous mission. Then she looks over at Dakota, and her eyes grow glossy for a moment. When she returns her gaze to me, her eyes are guarded.

“The only thing I can promise is that Iwill deploy a team to go with you. But, first we have to finish the mission in Hudskill Vale. It’s of the outmost importance, but once that’s done, we’ll send a team to that farm, to help you look. When did you last see him?”

“Spring of 2024.” I know what Miranda will say before I speak. My chest hurts, and it’s as if I’m transported in time.

“When it all began. How old was he then?” Miranda’s gaze softens, and somehow this is so much worse.

“Six. Turning seven in October that year.” I tremble and can only hope that it doesn’t show.

“And you realize how improbable it is that he has survived the virus and then managed to stay alive for fifteen years?” Miranda leans her elbows against the table between us.

“Yes.” My treacherous voice thickens. “But you agree to it?” I’m shaking now.

“Yes.” Miranda extends her right hand, and I do the same and we shake on it.”

Theo. I’ve heard of child workers for years but haven’t been able to get anywhere near the largest of the farms. Now that I’m getting help to search the vast facility, I will find out if the rumors are true. Perhaps I can finally keep the promise I made to Mom all those years ago.

“We have a deal then. I’m going to go work on my maps,” Miranda stands and looks at me under raised brows. “And you’re coming with me, Andrea.”

“What’s up?” I blink as I’m still trying to find my bearings after thinking of Theo, something I try to avoid when I can.

“You need to rest. I know Apple said you would be all right, but I can guarantee that some rest was implied. We’re going to take a few days to make plans together, but for today, I want you off your feet.” She motions for me to follow her, and I know better than to argue. Even if I wasn’t in pain and tired, I’m also still dizzy on and off, which doesn’t help.

Dakota takes my mug and plate, offering to clean them. I remember to thank him, and then I walk next to Miranda back to her room.

Someone’s added blankets to my cot, and I’m so eager to lie down, I move to fast and nearly fall over.

“Damn it.” Miranda wraps her hand around my waist and I’m infinitely grateful that she didn’t catch me by grabbing the injured arm. I have only fainted a few times in my life, and I wouldn’t want to do it right in front of her. “Let me help you.” Miranda helps me off with my vest and jacket, and her hands are remarkably careful, nearly tender in the way she makes sure not to reinjure me.

“We need to get you our of your shirt as well. The sleeve’s thick with dried blood.” Miranda points to my left arm. “Do you have a spare?”

“Yes. In my bag. A long sleeve t-shirt.” I try to unbutton my shirt, but my left arm isnt’ happy about being bent.

“I said I would assist.” Miranda sighs and deftly unbuttons my flannel shirt. “There. Tomrrow you can have a shower if you like. We can put something over your arm. Right now, you need sleep more than anything.” She studies me closer. “That tank top have seen better days. I may have something better if you want to change tomorrow.”

I look down at myself and, yes, the tank top is threadbare and has a lot of holes in it. “Thanks, but I have another one.” I don’t let on that the other tank top is probably even more worn.

“Want to keep your cargo pants on?” Miranda crouches in front of me, and I don’t understand why at first. Then I realize that I’m so exhausted, I can’t lift my head to meet her gaze. She has to crouch to meet look me in the eyes.

“I think I need to stay warm, so yes.” As on cue, I shudder and my teeth begin to clatter.

“Damn, you’re far too cold. Lie down.”

I look at my boots and try to untie them when Miranda pushes my hands away. After unfastening them, she pulls them off and then motions for me to lay down. I do, and then have to cling to the cot as the world spins out of control. I recognize this. It’s happened before when I’ve overdone. I close my eyes, and then I feel blankets being tucked in around me. Strong hands move gently around me and Miranda seems set on covering everything but my face.

I hear her step away and rummage around her gear, but I keep my eyes closed, hoping for my inner carousel to stop soon. She returns and pulls something down over my head. For a moment, I get a crazy idea that she might be trying to blindfold me, which doesn’t make any sense at all, but it turns out it’s just a beany cap.

“Thanks, Miranda,” I murmur, opening my eyes just a slit. She crouches next to my cot again and regards me with a strange, unreadable expression. I must be dizzier and out of it than I realized, as I think I see first tenderness and then wide-eyed alarm in her eyes. That can’t be right.

“Sleep, Andrea.”

God. She makes even that into an order. One I find I can actually see myself obeying without a problem.

Continued behind door 10

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