Path of Totality, page 12
Dan and the woman approached us.
Larry motioned to her. “This is Jillian. She’s going to check you for weapons.”
I jumped up and pulled my knife out of my waistline. “This is all I have.”
Dan smirked and pocketed my knife. Hopefully, I’d get that back. Thank goodness I’d left Dad’s knife with the bike.
“That’s a good start, but we still need to check,” Larry said.
I tried to step back, but stumbled into the bench. With Larry sitting on my left, Jillian standing in front of me, Dan standing to my right, and the bench behind me, I had nowhere to go. This was happening. I nodded once.
Jillian patted me down while I wished to disappear. She didn’t linger over private areas and seemed very professional about all of it. Maybe she’d been a cop before all of this.
When she finished patting down my ankles, she stood. “She’s clean.”
Larry looked pleased. “Thanks guys, we’ll see you inside.”
Dan and Jillian headed back to the store. I moved to follow, but Larry caught my hand. “Not so fast.” His voice hardened.
“I’m not a threat. She just confirmed it.” I pointed to where Dan and Jillian went through the door.
“You’re old enough to be in the military. We don’t like military types around here. You can’t trust them.” He had a strange look in his eyes. “Always trying to get us to leave this place. Go with them to who knows where. Say they’ll protect us.” He clenched his fists. “We can protect ourselves.”
“I’m not military.”
“Yeah.” He sneered. “Where’d you get those boots?”
Crap. I didn’t think about my boots. I sighed. “Okay, you want the truth?”
“That would be a good place to start, young lady.”
“I was in the military. I had to join when Operation Resolution went into effect. But I left. I couldn’t take it anymore and I left.”
Larry studied me. “Sounds like something a spy would say.”
I snapped. “I’m not a spy. They killed my best friend.” My throat closed. I sucked air in through my mouth and blew it out. “I don’t want anything to do with them.” I sniffled and tried to think of something else.
His eyes softened. “That, I believe. Come on.” He stood and led me toward the storefront.
I’m not sure why I followed when I should’ve run.
CHAPTER 31
JADZIA
When we entered the store, I couldn’t believe my eyes. A ten-foot barrier made of pallets and fencing formed a passageway just wide enough for us to walk single file. A gate stood at the end of the passageway, blocked by three armed guards.
Larry showed me through the gate into an open area with a bunch of mismatched chairs set up around tables. Groups of people sat, eating and talking.
He pointed to the snack bar and kitchen. “Mess hall. That’s where we cook the food. You’ll be on kitchen duty tomorrow morning. Everyone pulls their weight.” He grabbed an apple and a water pod from a table full of fruit, energy bars, water, and candy.
Candy. My mouth watered. How long had it been since I ate chocolate? After the tour, I’d make a beeline for this table.
“Have a snack whenever you like.” He pointed to the table. “Anything else is stealing. And we don’t take kindly to thieves.”
I gulped and nodded.
He led me past rows and rows of clothes, real food, and fabricated food packets, medical supplies, and tents. Everything was organized and accessible. Two guards patrolled the supplies. Nothing like armed men to keep you honest.
We rounded a corner of pallets, and Larry pointed out another area. “We even have a day care.” I peeked over the wall and saw a bunch of kids ranging from infant to about seven years. They read, napped, or played with toys. An exhausted-looking woman sat in a rocking chair holding an infant.
In the back left of the store, he pushed aside some tarps. “This is where the single girls sleep.” He motioned toward a group of mattresses, some with sleeping girls on them. “Pick one and get some rest.”
“Thanks.” I moved to pick a bed.
“Jadzia.” He called after me.
I turned.
“Here.” He smiled and threw me the water pod and apple.
“Thanks.” I couldn’t help but smile back.
I picked a mattress and unlaced my boots. I ate the apple and drank the water, then lay down to get some sleep. My body refused to relax. I didn’t know who these people were, or if I could trust them. Two mattresses away, a girl snored like a freight train rumbling through the room. I shoved my pillow over my head. It didn’t help. I wished I still had my knife. Something, anything, to protect myself with.
I lay there for hours, trying to figure this place out. Larry seemed nice enough. But there was something in his face. In his eyes. In the eyes of the woman, rocking the baby. Something about this place just didn’t sit well with me, and I couldn’t put my finger on it.
At four in the morning, I gave up trying to sleep. I pulled my boots on and pushed aside the tarp separating the sleeping quarters from the rest of the building.
Larry hadn’t shown me where the bathrooms were. You’d think that would be an important part of the tour. I walked along the back wall, where bathrooms usually were in these types of stores.
I found an unmarked door and figured I’d try it. The door opened into an office, maybe where the manager used to work. I almost backed away and closed the door, but papers on a table in the middle of the room caught my eye.
Huh. Not many people used paper anymore. I walked toward the table, letting the door close behind me. I picked up a random page from the table. Building plans. My heart raced. Why would a group of survivors need building plans?
I looked through the papers. More building plans. Marks I didn’t understand. In the corner of one of the papers, I saw the name of the Henry Ford Building, the tallest, most famous building in Dayton. I pulled info about the city up on my PCD. Dayton, a safe city where survivors were being housed, was only about forty miles away and had yet to be attacked by Zealots.
I moved to another stack of papers and found drawings that looked like the inside of the bomb I hacked during basic training. Bomb schematics. I dropped the paper. Backed up a step. Shook my head. These people were planning to bomb Dayton. I was in a Zealot stronghold.
The door flew open and banged against the wall.
I jumped, and my hand flew to my chest.
Larry stood in the doorway, fury on his face, old-fashioned shotgun in his hands, laser rifle slung across his back, my knife in his belt. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t our little spy.”
I widened my eyes, trying to look surprised. Really, I wanted to kill all three of them. In a voice I hoped sounded innocent, I said, “Sorry I got lost looking for the bathroom.”
“So you decided to look at our classified information?”
I stood my ground. These people were the ones responsible for Dad, Uncle Nick, and Brent’s death. Not directly, of course, but people who thought like them. It didn’t matter. Face to face with Zealots, I found I hated every single one of them. “The door wasn’t locked. Lights were on. I didn’t think it was a big deal.” I shrugged.
Larry entered the room. Dan and Jillian followed. All three carried more than enough weapons to kill me. My palms were sweating, but I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing it.
Larry grabbed my arm. I cried out and struggled against him.
Dan leveled his rifle at my chest. “Shut up and hold still.”
I did.
They led me from the room. We walked through the store. Only a few guards were about. I met each of their eyes, silently begging for help. Every single one of them looked away. Either they believed in their cause, or they didn’t want to end up like me.
Dan kept the tip of his gun jammed into my back the entire way out into the parking lot. We approached a Hover-truck. the type that shipped large quantities of items across the country.
Larry opened the rear of the truck. “Get in there.” He shoved me into the cargo hold. I stumbled, fell forward, and landed on all fours. My right hand throbbed. Jerk.
Larry slammed the door. I jumped up and banged against it. A lock clicked into place. “Don’t bother trying to contact your leaders. There’s a dampening field around the truck.” A loud boom echoed through the empty area. I could picture his large fist slamming into the side of the truck. I cringed against the back wall. The three of them laughed. Their voices faded as they walked back to the store.
The display on my PCD showed me Larry told the truth. No signal. Who would I call anyway? Not the military. They were likely to arrest me along with Larry’s group. I’d end up going from one prison to another.
I stood and ran my hands along the walls of the truck, hoping I could find something, anything, to help me. Nothing. Not a stray screw or bolt I could loosen. I growled.
They might plan on keeping me in this truck forever or they might take me some place else. I really didn’t want to find out.
I opened my hand. I might not be able to call anyone or access the net, but maybe I could access the truck itself. It took almost two hours, but I finally got into the truck’s systems and unlocked the rear door. I pushed the door open an inch at a time, in case someone guarded the truck. When I didn’t see anyone, I opened it wide enough to get out, then shut it again, locking it with my PCD so no one would suspect anything when they came to check on me.
I ran through the parking lot toward where I hid my bike. I heard Jillian yell. My heart jumped out of my chest. I didn’t wait to figure out what she’d said or who she’d yelled at. I ran down the hill and into the woods. A vehicle started up as I threw my leg over the bike. I didn’t have time to worry about the helmet, so I left it strapped to the back. I swiped my PCD. The bike came to life, and I shot out of the woods.
CHAPTER 32
JADZIA
I rode back toward the highway. If I could find a clear patch of pavement, this bike would outrun almost any other vehicle. I heard yelling and looked in the side mirror. Great. Two Hover-cars and a truck gave chase. My heart pounded almost as fast as the bike went.
Twisting the throttle, I poured on more speed. My lead widened a little. I took a turn too sharply and my knee skimmed the road, tearing my pants. I fought for control. My skin stinging from where it scraped, I muscled the bike upright and kept going.
The slide cost me precious seconds and the vehicles behind me closed the gap. Keeping one hand on the throttle, I used my other hand to awkwardly point my rifle over my shoulder. I tried to use the mirror to judge where to shoot. It didn’t work well. I gave up the attempt to aim and just pulled the trigger. Besides, I usually hit things better when I didn’t aim at them.
Unfortunately, I didn’t hear a crash, but I caught sight of the lead car swerving around to avoid my shots. I veered around another car and almost went down again. I pulled the rifle in front of me. Shooting and steering at the same time was too hard.
A four-car pileup blocked the entrance ramp to the highway. I spotted a small path through the cars. I maneuvered through the wreck, then opened the throttle all the way. No car could follow me through that. I relaxed my shoulders and remembered how to breathe. A huge crash sounded. I flinched and crouched low to the handlebars. I checked the mirror and cursed. The truck plowed through the cars on the road like they were toys. All three vehicles kept chasing me.
I cursed again. I really needed to stop doing that so much, but now didn’t seem like the time. My lead had grown, but not enough. Now what? I looked around for anything to stop the Zealots from following. An open patch of road allowed me to break a hundred on the speedometer, and I raced ahead. My hair whipped around my head and my eyes watered from the speed but stopping meant death.
Another pileup blocked the road. I’d have to slow way down and pick my way through. I glanced at the charge meter. It flashed red. I had maybe thirty minutes of ride time left. Wonderful. I needed to lose these guys. Now.
A plan formed. Not a very good plan, but a plan nonetheless. I glanced at the speedometer. One forty-five. I was going to regret this. The abandoned cars loomed. I hit the brakes as hard as I dared, almost flying over the handlebars. I squeezed my legs together as tightly as I could to stay on the seat. Pain flared in my left hand, but I refused to loosen my grip on the bars.
Going about forty miles per hour now, I picked my way through the first few cars. I stopped behind a random car and dismounted. Using the hood for cover, I waited a few seconds until the Zealots came into range. I fired. The windshield on one of their vehicles shattered. Hoping to hit a driver, I kept up a solid wave of fire.
One car veered off the road and slammed into a ditch. I’m not sure if I hit anyone or if they just overcompensated to avoid my laser blasts. I didn’t stop firing.
The second car and the truck stopped as they approached the lines of cars. Larry opened the truck door and stood behind it. Nice shield, Captain America. He opened fire, and I ducked behind the car.
I couldn’t shoot from here. I took a deep breath and came up screaming. All my fire centered on Larry. After a few seconds, he went down.
I aimed at the car next. After a minute, I stopped firing. I waited. Nothing moved. I stood.
Shots rang out from the truck Larry had been in. I cried out. Pain spread through my left shoulder, but I ignored it. There’d be time to feel pain later. I shot another volley into the car’s windshield. Again, all was quiet.
This time I waited a solid five minutes. Silence. My muscles relaxed and my breathing slowed. I aimed my gun at the car and stepped from behind my cover.
My conscience wouldn’t let me leave without checking to see if they were alive. I slowly walked toward the closest car, the one that veered off the road. I couldn’t have killed them with my shots. My gun still carried a stun cartridge in it. But if they died in the crash, it was still my fault.
My eyes flicked among all three vehicles as I moved, but no Zealots stirred. When I got to the car, a Zealot whom I couldn’t identify slumped over the steering wheel and Dan lay with his head against the passenger side window frame. I checked the driver first, then moved over to the one in the passenger seat. Both had pulses. Whew.
They’d be out for a few hours. I made my way to the other car. Jillian’s head lolled out the open driver’s side window, but she had a pulse, as did the guy in the passenger seat who lay on her shoulder. Two vehicles down and no fatalities.
I walked around the car to check on Larry and the other person in his truck. Blood trickled out from under the door where Larry had sheltered behind. I stopped. There shouldn’t be any blood. Unless . . . I edged my way around the door.
I fell to my knees and vomited. Head shot. Maybe two, by the looks of it. Stunner cartridges didn’t normally inflict wounds but take a stunner to the face or anywhere in the head, and you weren’t recovering from that.
Three. My mind went back to the guy in Manhattan. And the guy on the cliff. I’d killed three people. My body shook. I threw up again. Sure, they’d all been trying to kill me, but I had taken three lives. Not to mention the people I’d hurt. I couldn’t move. I knelt there, staring at the ground, looking everywhere except at the man who lay beside me.
My hands balled into fists. I hated this war. Hated everyone and everything involved. I took my rifle off and shoved it away from me. I ran my hands down my face.
A scream bubbled up and burst from my mouth. “Why?” I threw my arms in the air. “What do you want from me? Huh?” I didn’t know who I yelled at, but I continued to rage. “First my dad, then Uncle Nick, then Brent. Then you turn me into a killer. And it just keeps happening.” I wrapped my arms around my chest and folded in on myself, rocking back and forth. “How much more do I have to give?”
I don’t know how long I knelt there. Must have been at least an hour because I jumped when a car door shut. A very groggy Zealot shuffled around the back of Larry’s truck. I must have grazed him with a stunner blast. If I’d hit him full on he’d be out for another three hours.
I fumbled for the rifle I’d pushed away earlier and blasted him. He dropped in a heap onto the pavement.
I sighed. No matter how much I wanted to get rid of it, this gun was the difference between my life and death. I stood, wiped my face, and made my way back to my bike.
CHAPTER 33
JADZIA
I rode as fast as I could for the next thirty minutes, pushing the bike to the limits of its charge. The sun rose high, and the heat swelled. I passed a sign for Kings Island amusement park. An amusement park would be empty, but not a likely target for the Zealots, and likely still intact, which meant I could charge my bike. I’d have to dump it soon if I couldn’t, and I really didn’t want to. The bike would get me to Houston quicker than any other means of transportation, and I really liked riding it.
The parking lot sat empty. Just as I thought, the park hadn’t opened for the season yet when the attacks happened. It didn’t open after, either, and really, who knew if it ever would again? I pulled my bike to the far end of the lot under some trees and plugged it in. I sat on the curb, ate an MRE, and drank one of the water pods.
As far as I knew, the bike would take two hours to reach a full charge. I set an alarm on my PCD, curled up in the grass, and closed my eyes.
Two hours later, I jolted awake to the sound of my alarm. Eyes still closed, I fumbled with my PCD display to shut off the noise. I pressed a button, and the alarm quieted.
I didn’t want to go to school today. I ran my hand along my mattress, looking for my covers. Where were the stupid things? And why did my bed feel so weird? Almost like grass. I opened my eyes, sat up, and tried to figure out why I’d been sleeping on the ground. I groaned and rubbed my eyes. My surroundings came into sharper focus. Oh. Yeah. Stupid war.
