Aftermath 2/3

[poppetawoppet]

*
Two

"Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come."

From the diary of Allison Iraheta

When I think back on it, I wonder what would have happened if we had said no. If we had told the men in Albuquerque that we had a destination. Would they have let us go? I don't know.

At that stage I was still waking up and reaching for my alarm clock. Wondering just how much technology had been lost. There's a lot of thinking when you walk.

I wish I could remember everything, but honestly the days blend together. I remember Andrew's death, and the day we detoured to Colorado, but that's because those were big days. Every other day seemed to have such a driving purpose: walk this far, figure out how to get out of Colorado.

I suppose I would say I was treading water for most of that time. I did what I could. I think maybe that's what we all would say: I did what I could. I did what I had to.

*
August 11, 2013
Santa Barbara, CA

By the time they get on the road, Adam wants to run. He understands why they waited a month. When they reach Arizona, it will be cooler. Mostly. And without power, traveling at night is too risky. Drew has told them everything he has discovered in scouting the area. The Eaters come any time of day, and traveling at night, they could kidnap someone for their cook fires with ease. At least in the day, there is a chance to run and hide. Adam doesn't like to think of the prospect of being eaten, so he agrees to the plan.

But Adam is tired of sitting and waiting. He has tucked a photo next the list. He found it on Kris's mantle, a picture from their Idol days, just the three of them, right after they made it to the top twelve. Adam stares at it for a long time before taking it. A part of his mind says that if he can carry the photo all the way to Arkansas, Kris and Allison have made it too. They are all alive and well.

Adam watches as Drew takes the lead, Grace right behind him. He watches Kris's house disappear behind them and puts his feet in front of the other.

Brad smiles at him, and Adam smiles back. They'd already been through hell. What was seventeen hundred miles compared to weeks of everyone dying around them?

Adam shifts Bowie in his carrier and hoped Drew is right about finding weapons. The last thing Adam wants is another uneven fight.

Then Adam realizes he has to learn how to use the weapon, and his only guide is someone who dabbled in playing around with swords in his free time. Adam looks at Drew again. Cale trusts him, and Adam supposes he trusts Cale, in as much Cale is Kris's best friend. So it has to be enough.

Adam touches the pocket where the photo is and takes a deep breath. One problem at a time.

*
August 18, 2013
Boulder

Kris is on body collection. Every day, a group goes out to the city, and searches for dead bodies. It's a ingenious idea, to help stop diseases and clear useful living space.

It's actually Kris's first day. He's had to work up to this, from scrubbing pots, to clearing gardens, and now body collection. Although moving up may not be the exact word for it. But he's considered responsible enough to be in a small group. In his head he has a plan where he eventually gains enough trust to be a soldier, but he's not too sure. The general disdain for outsiders is almost too great to overcome.

But he's going to try. Because he doesn't know how long he can ignore everything else.

The smell isn't bad. Not . Then again, the whole world smells different now, and he's gotten used to vague smell of decomposition. It's stronger here, but he can almost ignore it now, like a buzzing in his ears. Kris has been in the deepest darkest parts of the world, and seen much worse things than a dead body. So he isn't too squeamish about that.

It's the people he is with that bother him. Some of the army of the Federated State of Colorado are okay guys. The three with him, not so much.

Kris tries to stay quiet, but something inside won't let him. He may have to pretend to want to be here, but he cannot change his basic nature.

"Hey," he says to the two men currently carrying a body.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"You think we could treat these people just a little better?"

They laugh. "What the fuck for?"

Kris's heart is beating. "Look. I don't give a fuck one way or the other. They're dead. I'm alive. So that makes me automatically a step ahead. But we have recruitment issues as is. If word gets out that we're bad asses, that's one thing. But if word gets out that we are bad asses that treat our people right, even when they're dead, then you just watch the people come in."

"You're fucking crazy."

Kris shrugs. He sees the lieutenant in charge give him a thoughtful look. It's a start. When the captain overseeing the whole operation makes a statement a week later, Kris knows for sure he is on the right track.

*
August 20, 2013
Barstow, California

Grace knows these people. She's spent time with them in the tent city just outside of Fresno. Plus she recognizes them. She hasn't said so. She thinks, now, it doesn't matter anyway.

She tends to stick to herself. She doesn't mind being the only girl. She's used to it. But she knows surviving is more than just eating and walking. She knows in order to not go crazy, she should be more involved.

They've stopped for lunch. Cale and Tommy are on lookout, while Drew consults the map. Grace sits next to him.

"How did you not go crazy, waiting?"

Drew looks up. "I'm a drummer by trade. We're naturally isolated from a group."

"That's helpful."

"There are people. They don't always want to talk, and , they're stupid if they stay here, thinking the weather is what is important. But there are people here."

"One of the other nurses, she went with the Colorado group. I almost went too, thinking at least then, I would know someone."

Drew looks at her. "Then why didn't you go?"

Grace laughs. "I hate snow. Plus, they told me that there was somewhere to go. The Colorado group only had vain hope. I'm also comforted that you look like you could do something with that sword."

"Thanks. Adam's pretty good, for a beginner. Although he did have to learn the basics for that stupid music video he did."

"I remember he was shirtless."
Drew laughs. "Thanks. Now I'll have that image burned into my rain for awhile."

Grace shrugs. "No problem."

Drew looks back at the map. Grace looks around. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Maybe she could do okay here.

*
August 25, 2013
Boulder

Allison can't help but fiddle with the ring on her finger. She isn't used to it yet. The room is full of chattering women, sewing happily. Allison watches from a corner, wondering what she is supposed to do.

"Allison right?"

She looks up. It's Catherine Johnson, the General's wife.

"Yes, ma'am," Allison says.

"Please. Cathy. You're a bit younger than your husband. Right?"

Allison nods.

"He does love you though. I do like seeing young people in love. Do you know why you are here?"

Allison shakes her head. "No. The most sewing I've ever done was in home ec, and high school was awhile ago."

"Ah, yes, the quilting bee. See, the thing is Allison; my husband is a very smart man. He never was a general before. But he saw what was coming and took an opportunity. I saw that and so I decided to go with him."

"Okay," Allison says carefully.

She isn't sure what Cathy is trying to say. Only that there is more going on here than a quilting bee.

"Can you keep a secret Allison?"

"Yes," she whispers without hesitation.

"See, I know you didn't come here exactly voluntarily, and that you and your husband have somewhere else you'd like to be. So I invited you here. Not everyone gets invited, and if I hear you tell anyone of what goes on, even a hint of it, you are dead to me. Do you understand?"

Allison looks around the room, and realizes that she has missed something in her initial observations. It may be a patriarchal society, but here was a large group of women, meeting on their own, with no supervision.

"I understand."

"Good," Cathy says. "Come with me, and we'll start talking about stitching."

"I only knit a little."

"That's okay. We can teach you everything you need to know."

Allison hopes the subtext she hears underneath is right. Because if it is, then there are more ways to get home than she thought.

*
August 28, 2013
Allen Farm, Arkansas

Ryland looks at the ambassador from Colorado. "We're doing okay down here, actually."

"Doesn't look like much."

Ryland suppresses the urge to hit the man. "Well, yes, but we'll get there. We took awhile to get going, but just you wait."

"So you were here when it happened?"

"No," Ryland says. "I've only been here for a little while. My wife and I came from the East."

Ryland lies only because he isn't sure where Kris stands with these people. If he's even alive.

"Heard Most of the East Coast was Eaters."

"That's true. I came from Florida. We eat alligator, not people."

The diplomat looks at him a little longer, ignoring the joke. "Huh. So you like this Allen woman?"

"Yeah. She may look like your mother, but take it from me, don't mess with her. If you want a small piece of advice."

"Thanks?"

Ryland nods and looks away. He wants to ask about Kris and Allison, but knows he can't. Instead he focuses on thinking about the windmill, and trying to remember all the stuff he has forgotten from his college days. Wishing that his and Drew's sometime hobby had been more of an obsession.

*
August 30, 2013
Boulder

Kris watches as the soldiers pass, not one of them bothering to even look as they rode down the street.

"Kris, come on."

Kris has moved onto food delivery. He helps distribute and store food for the army. It's not much different than moving bodies: he still goes home with aching arms. He's finally found Robert, his old neighbor. Not that it means much; Robert lost his sister in the early days, so any family connection he might have used is gone.

Luckily, Robert catches on to the fake name, and goes along with the half truths Kris has presented. In quiet moments, they talk of how they can possibly leave, but it is hard. There seems to be someone who is always watching.

They have concluded that soldiers have the most freedom.

Yet soldiers are also the things they least want to be.

But it has to be done. Kris keeps thinking of Katy, and Cale, and home, and it gets under his skin. He has to do what he can to get home. He has to get Allison out of here.

"You. Cook."

Kris turns to the soldier.

"Yes, Captain?" Kris recognizes the soldier from around. He seems like an okay guy.

"You train?"

"I worked with a trainer for awhile, yeah. I was a big runner."

"Maybe next time there are sign ups, you should think about it. You keep your mouth shut and do what needs to be done. I like that."

"Yes sir. I'd like that a lot."

"In the mean time, you should think about attending the school. Might learn a lot of things that would help you."

Kris nods. There's a mini-university already up and running. It's for soldiers and scientists only. An invitation to the school is like being told you are wanted for one or the other. Kris hasn't shown any sign of new discoveries or unknown knowledge, so he's certain where he's wanted.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Kris looks at Robert as the soldier walks away. It's a start.

*
September 5, 2013
Flagstaff, Arizona

"People were here," Drew says. "But I don't think so now."

"Think it's okay?" Grace asks.

"Looks okay. We should go downtown, check things out, but maybe we could set up camp in a house for once."

"Sounds fine by me. I could use a bed," Brad says, wiggling his eyebrows at Adam.

Adam sighs. Flagstaff does look abandoned. He just doesn't like the look of it. From the painted red hands on the doorways, to the eerie quiet. In other towns he has heard some sort of life. Here, everything seems dead. He looks at a nearby, doorway; four red hands faded slightly, and wonders what it means. In some ways, he doesn't want to know.

There's a police station near downtown. Drew sets his pack down. The rest of them follow. There's a set of old style stocks just outside the door of the station. There are dark brown stains on the wood. Adam turns away, trying not to think of what could have happened.

"I'm going to check out this police station, see if there are any records," Drew says. "Someone else can scout for a house."

"I'll go," Cale says.

Brad nudges Adam. "Go on. Find us a big bed. I'll watch your child."

"He's your child too. Just because you decided I had to contribute DNA does not mean that you haven't contributed anything."

"Spoilsport."

"Someone has to be responsible."

"Love you."

"Love you too," Adam says. "Sure you, Grace and Tommy can hold down the fort?"

"Please. Now go find me a real bed."

Adam grins and heads down the street.

"You two are terrible," Cale says.

"You think that's bad, you should have lived with us."

"I do live with you."

Adam laughs. "Good point. At least Brad wears more clothing now."

"I don't want to know. Of course, now I'm picturing it in my head."

"You're welcome," Adam says. "Let's try and find a house without a red hand. They creep me out."

Cale nods in agreement and they walk down the street.

*

Drew looks at the cells, noting the variety of lost items strewn across the floor. Ponytails, jewelry, a baby blanket, all covered in dust. He's wracking his brain to figure out what happened here. With the Eater camps, it's easy. There's a distinct smell from the abandoned ones, a distinct sound from the ones they've had to avoid. Drew remembers reasoning with the others why they couldn't intervene, and he's sure the nightmares of not saving the people behind the screams will haunt him for the rest of his life. But he also knows that six people and a baby against any number of cannibals is bad math.

Drew walks over to the desk. There are the records from before, fingerprints and the like. Then he finds a ledger, neatly organized, each entry handwritten from March on. There are names, one for each day until June or so. Drew skims them, and all of a sudden the red hands on the doors begin to make sense.

"I wonder," Drew says to himself.

He flips through the book, hoping he doesn't recognize any of the names. He closes his eyes when he sees Andrew's.

"They were here," he whispers.

He opens his eyes to look at the book again, when he hears the dogs, and then the whistle.

"Oh shit."

*

Adam hefts the bat in his hand. "I can't believe your carrying this."

Cale turns from the kitchen of the house they are exploring.

"Look, I used to play baseball. I feel comfortable carrying it."

"I guess. Then again, you have the arms."

"Are you flirting with me?"

Adam laughs. "Oh no. You would know."

"Thanks," Cale says.

"Is that the whistle?"

Cale nods and they are both out of the door, running down the street. Adam hears the dogs, the screaming of his child. Later, he wouldn't remember anything but his own screams, yelling as he swung the bat in his hand. He looks around; waiting for the next attack, when he realizes it's over.

He looks at Brad. "Where's Bowie?"

Brad grins, "Hid him in the car. Grace is the last line of defense."

"You okay?"

"Never better."

Then he falls to the ground.

*

Grace is only one person. She only has two hands. It's hard to deal with in her profession, especially since March. She looks at Tommy for a minute.

"All right, one of you volunteer to help him dress that leg. I think it should be fine with a good wash."

"I'm perfectly capable."
Grace looks at him. "I don't have time to argue, Mr. Ratliff. Just do it."

Tommy nods once and limps over to the fire, where Cale has been boiling water. Grace swallows and kneels near Brad.

"You going to keep quiet?" She asks Adam.

He nods once.

"Good. I may need your hands," she says to Drew. "Can you handle that?"

"I hope so."

"Good. Now distract me while I work."

"How?"

"Tell what the fuck happened here."

Grace doesn't look up as Drew begins to talk. She knows it's a losing battle, knows she doesn't have the skill to save Brad's life. But she has to try. She has to do something.

"Based on the ledger I found," Drew says. "Whoever was in charge decided that God was punishing them. That's why the lights left. So in turn, the people in charge decided that the people should be punished, until the lights came back. I suppose it started small, from what I'm reading. But the red hands, say to me that it escalated. I found an axe by the stocks. I suppose they fed the hands to the dogs. When they ran out of hands, or when everyone left, I don't know. But the dogs turned feral, and had a taste for humans."

Drew pauses.

"Andrew's name is in the ledger."

This means nothing to Grace, but she can hear Cale's soft swearing. She supposes he was one of their friends. She'll ask later, when she's not involved.

"Grace."

"I thought you were going to be quiet," she says.

"Grace."

She looks up at Adam. "What?"

"He's gone."

Grace looks down. "Damn it."

She sits on the floor, head between her knees. She's only one person. She tries to tell herself that, to take away the guilt.

It doesn't work.

*
September 7, 2013
Boulder

Allison winces as the needle sticks her thumb again. She knows in order for the quilting bee to remain a cover, she actually has to quilt, but damn if it doesn't hurt.

"Should have been a knitting circle. I already could do that a little bit," she mumbled.

Mona, the girl next to her, laughs. "Don't we all wish we had thought of it. But Cathy and her friends quilted, so that's what we got stuck with."

"Can I ask something?"

Allison doesn't pause in sewing, if she stops, she'll lose the rhythm.

"Sure."

"How did everything get organized so quickly? I mean, LA was a madhouse."

Mona pauses, speaks. "Well, you didn't hear this from me, but I think the government may have known more than they let on. The week after the lights first appeared in the sky, all the bases here started 'training exercises'. General Johnson, well he was just a Captain, but he knew all this stuff about swords and low tech stuff, and when the power finally went, we all decided to put him in charge."

"But-"

"We had no idea he was a complete bastard till it was too late, Alli. But Cathy knew, and she took steps. We're all taking steps."

Allison nods. "How long do you think we have?"

"At least a year, if not two. Probably three."

"I can't be here three years," Allison whispers.

"I wish I could help, but getting out of here is impossible. Even Cathy knows that."

Allison nods, and thinks of Kris's fragile plans. Perhaps between them they can find a way to go home, and soon.

*
September 10, 2013
Lupton, Arizona-New Mexico border

Tommy looks at the sign welcoming him to New Mexico. The exclamation point is too happy for his taste, but he can't help but welcome the change.

Sure, the towns are going to be just as empty. His stomach will always be hungry. His feet are still going to hurt. New Mexico, however, is not Arizona.

It's been too quiet for the last five days. Adam's only spoken to Bowie. No one has gotten through. Tommy doesn't think he has the right words. No one does.

Tommy hates this, wants it to be done. Wants everything to be normal again. But he also knows that whining never got him any gigs, so it won't help him survive the end of the world.

He watches as Grace and Drew pass the sign, discussing what supplies they're going to need, seeing if they can find any without going into a big city.

Cale is next. He looks determined and defeated all at once. He's been trying the hardest to keep morale up, but it hasn't worked.

Adam stands under the sign, looking up and shifting Bowie in his arms. Cale turns and looks at Tommy. Tommy nods once and stops beside Adam. Tommy has to try something.

"Look. I'm terrible at this shit, you know that. I'm sorry. I am. I know somewhere deep inside you wish it was me instead of him, and honestly, I don't blame you. I know what he meant to you. You two went through a lot together. But the powers that be decided to save my dumb ass and now you're stuck with me. Maybe when we get where we're going we can get drunk and I'll let you kiss me again."

Tommy swears he sees Adam's mouth twitch.

"Anyway, we can't let them get too far ahead of us. You know it's going to be bad enough that they beat us there. Let's not make it a complete defeat."

Adam does smile this time, a small little curve that quickly disappears. Tommy walks away, but he hears Adam's steps behind him.

"Thanks, Tommy."

The words are almost lost in the wind, but they are a beginning.

*
September 11, 2013,
Boulder

The streets are lined with people. Kris knows that the Federated State of Colorado is heavily populated, but seeing them all in one place puts it in perspective.

Another group of soldiers march by, and the unnatural quiet begins to bother him. He has already sung the national anthem (purposefully off key, as much as it pained him), spent moments of silence for the dead and dying, and now the parade.

For a holiday he is sure, in a generation's time, will mean nothing.

He sees the General for the first time. Kris is aware that Craig Johnson is young, but it surprises Kris how young. He can't have but a few years on Kris, but there is something in his eyes.

Kris watches the carriage even into the distance. He's seen the look on a lot of soldier's eyes, that supreme confidence that nothing is better than them. Kris isn't sure he can fake that look. But he knows he has to try. Because he has seen the way people look at the soldiers, the way they are treated, and knows that it may be the only way to get out.

*
September 14, 2013
Albuquerque, New Mexico

"The last time we said somewhere was deserted-" Cale whispers to Drew.

"I know. But we're traveling straight through. No stopping."

Cale nods and looks around again.

The only sign anyone has been in Albuquerque is painted logos for the Federated State of Colorado, promising peace, food and a home.

"Do you think they have what they are promising?" Grace asks, coming up behind them.

"Probably," Drew answers, "but with a leader going by General, you're looking at a military run society. Which, in the short term, will do well for itself. But I wonder if they will balance enough to last."

"You know, Drew, when you start talking politics, it turns me on," Cale says.

Cale grins as Grace laughs. He sees Adam's stare, but even he smiles a bit. "Come on. We're going to Arkansas. Where I'm sure Mama Allen has already figured out a dump cake recipe and housing arrangements even for extra people. I'm sure she'll even adopt you Tommy, despite your lack of everything that resembles good taste."

"You wish you had taste like mine," Tommy says.

Cale looks at Adam. "Naw. Too tall dark and handsome for me."

"That's fine. You're too tall to fit my type anyway," Adam says.

The whole group stares in stunned silence for a moment.

"Oh. So I'm too much man for you?"

Adam laughs. "Yes Cale. You're too much man for me."

Cale claps a hand onto Adam's shoulder. "Well, at least you know your limits."

Adam smiles at him, but stays quiet.

Cale doesn't say any more. He doesn't want to push any further, for fear what little progress that had been made would be lost. Instead he picks up his pack, readjusts his sword belt, and begins to walk again.

*
September 17, 2013
Boulder

Allison likes the quilting bee, even though she isn't sure it's anything more than that. It helps pass the time here.

They are learning a little self-defense. Cathy says it's for their own good, just in case they move to one of the outposts.

Allison isn't so sure about that.

"Tomorrow the army is going slightly north. The people there are resisting joining us. Normally I would say this is the time that we would make our move. Except Craig watches me especially closely. I would highly advise all of you to be careful this next week or so."

Allison has spent too much time dealing with music executives and reporters to not tell when someone is lying. Cathy isn't saying something. But with Kris's quest to become trusted enough to leave going slowly, this is her only hope of possibly going somewhere she might be able to call home.

So she pretends that she hasn't seen the wariness in Cathy's eyes, and continues to sew.

*
September 19, 2013
Tucumcari, New Mexico

The map says they are somewhere in New Mexico. Adam doesn't even try to pronounce it; he's always mangling city names. Drew has taken first patrol. It's been fairly quiet; a few run-ins with Eaters and a couple of fellow travelers going the other way, but no one with any solid information.

Adam shivers and looks across the fire at Tommy. Tommy smiles at him. It's been a little better, but Adam has found fewer reasons to talk to anyone than before.

"So, we used to do this thing, Kris and I, on retreats and such," Cale says as he sits next to Adam, "where we would sit around the fire and tell something about ourselves that was so secret, so deep. Sort of a bonding thing."

"This isn't a retreat," Adam says.

"No. It's not. However, we're stuck with each other for awhile. It might be nice to actually know the people I'm risking my life for. That I'm bringing home."

Adam says nothing.

"Can I go first?" Grace says.

Cale nods.

"When we were in the hospital, when everyone was sick, there were times. I probably walked away from several patients. Several times."

Everyone is quiet now.

"It's not that I didn't care. I did. But I had to sleep sometime. I had to keep my sanity. What good was I if I made bad decisions because I was tired? But I wonder if I could have saved more, if I-"

"You did what you could. No one can ask any more than that," Tommy says, and puts his arm around Grace's shoulders.

"I didn't want kids."

Everyone turns to Adam.

"Not at first. I wasn't sure I was emotionally stable enough to raise a child. It took Brad a lot to convince me that it was even remotely a good idea. Then a lot more to convince me it should be my baby."

"Even I didn't know that," Tommy whispers.

"No one was supposed to," Adam replies. "But then Bowie came, and I realized Brad had been right all that time. I just wonder-"

Adam shuts his mouth. He's trying not to have any regrets, because it only makes the grief worse. He's trying to work through it.

"Well, for a change of mood," Cale says, "um. I've been seeing someone. Sort of. I didn't think it was going to be anything. And then it was. I like her. Love her,"

"Unless she's around this campfire, you do realize the chances of her being alive-"

Cale looks at Adam. "It's Allison."

Adam blinks.

"What? Now wait a second. Last I heard from Kris, she was completely flirting with you all tour, but this is new."

Cale shrugs. "Don't ask me, one day I'm just hanging out with her, the next..."

Adam looks at him, "I don't think you should finish that."

"For such an open-minded guy, you’re an awful prude," Cale says. "Look, I can't explain it. I swear I turned around one day and she has me wrapped around her little finger. I'm still trying to figure it out."

"You hurt her, I'll kill you, you know that?"

Cale grins at Adam. "I know. First we have to get to her, right?"

Adam nods and smiles back, and listens as Tommy starts in about one of his tattoos.

*
September 21, 2013
Allen Farm, Arkansas

Kim Allen has tolerated many things in her life. But since the lights went out for good, her patience had worn thin. She couldn't wait for people to change; she had to drag them with her.

She is proud of how much people have accomplished, keeping her little part of the world relatively sane and stable. Daniel, to her surprise, has become quite the leader. But she misses the rest of her family.

Which brings her to the current problem. Kim believes in God. But she does not believe that God, even in his infinite wisdom, would punish people for the reasons the head pastor preaches now.

She understands he is young, and is easily swayed. But she also knows who her son is bringing with him from California, people she loves dearly, and are supposedly one of the reasons God is punishing them all.

So she pulls Frederick aside after church.

"Mrs. Allen."

"Dear Frederick, you know I do love you yes?"

"Mrs. Allen, I know what you are going to say and-"

Kim feels the dam burst, pushing him into the wall.

"Listen. Who kept you from being hungry, all this time?"

"You. But-"

"And how did I do that exactly?"

"Your son's horses. His horse farm."

"You do realize he is making every effort to come this way. With several of his friends from California. Who are the very people you are trying to pin all of this on. Understand this, you can believe what you want, but if God intended to punish them as sinners, wouldn't you think he'd come up with a better way than turning out the lights? I love these people dearly, and if you keep preaching hate and death, they won't be able to stay. And I wouldn't like that very much."

"I preach what I believe."

"Then I suppose I'll just find a new church."

Kim turns away, not watching Frederick's gaping mouth. She knows her power here. Her son has taught her a few things about using celebrity for good causes. Now all she has to do is find someone else to back.

She's waited almost two hundred days for her son. Her patience may be thin, but it is there.

*
September 22-6, 2013
Amarillo, Texas

When they first approach Amarillo, everyone is wary. After all, the last few big cities have had their own troubles. But this time, it looks almost civilized. Cars have been cleared off the roads in the outskirts. People are living in houses as opposed to huddling in them.

They hold a brief meeting, and all agree that they will approach with caution, but it seems to be safe.

A patrol meets them at a hastily built wall. It's being fortified, but it's enough to keep most everyone but Eaters away.

Once inside the city, there are doctors to check them out, warm baths to clean them, and beds to let them rest.

Tommy keeps waiting for the bad to come. To wake up with a knife in his chest, or at his throat. Bowie in a cage. Something like that. But these people are genuinely happy to see them.

On the second day, they ask for news.

Aaron Hampton is the leader here, a rancher who happened to find himself in charge.

"Well, what I know is very little. I have a list here, came from one of the couriers out of Colorado," his face twists at that, "of dead. From-"

"California," Adam says.

"Yes, and they've added since then. If you want to look. How-"

Tommy watches as Adam turns to the last few pages. There is nothing there.

"It's a long story. Why is Colorado so bad?"

Aaron sighs. "At first they seemed okay. Big military guy out that way. But then they started eating up chunks of the surrounding country, sending patrols to "recruit" for their General Johnson. I get the feeling those guys are going to be trouble."

"And East of here?" Cale asks.

"Well, the coast, no one's heard anything from. I've heard rumors that parts of the Midwest are doing okay. But nothing solid. Western Arkansas is doing just fine. We trade with them as much as we can, but the Eaters are starting to encroach on our trade route. Hard to convince people to leave, when there's a large group of predators that look just like them waiting to attack and eat them."

Tommy looks at the others, seeing the excitement in their faces.

"Aaron, can you tell us who's in charge over there?"

"Why, Kim Allen runs things down there just fine. Her son was by here just a few weeks ago again. Nice young man. Why, you all look like I've given you the best news of your life."

Tommy laughs. "Aaron, you just did."

The third day, they get supplies. Aaron asked if any of them wanted to stay. Tommy could tell they all thought of it. But it was only a little bit longer to Arkansas, and now that they knew it was safe to go there, it wasn't even a question.

Was he still hungry? Did his feet still hurt? Was he still wary, ever aware that this new world was full of death? Absolutely. But just hearing that they weren't in search of a vain hope, that there was somewhere to go, somehow made it disappear to the corner of his mind.

As Amarillo left his sight, Tommy began to think that just maybe things could be okay in this new world. That it wasn't that different than the old, .

*
September 26, 2013
Boulder

Kris watches as the patrol strolls through the main gates. He's known they've been coming, so he's had time to prepare himself for whatever they may say or do. They have their usual swagger, the pride of conquerors, the swell of bullies who have gotten exactly what they want.

Kris runs to them, after all, his job is to help them how he can. He has worked his way up the ladder as fast as a man possibly can here, by working hard, saying little, and perhaps cheating just a bit. It is never encouraged, but highly regarded. It's the initiative that is admired.

"Sir," Kris says to the captain, Prentice, the name on his uniform says, "would you like some water?"

"Yes, indeed," Captain Prentice says. "Cook, right? Kristopher Cook?"

"Yes sir."

"I've heard many things of you."

Kris shrugs, "Perhaps some of them are true."

The soldier laughs. "Perhaps. Here, read this. You said you came from the West, yes?"

Kris nods, and takes the well creased papers. "Yes. What is it?"

"One of our new recruits," Prentice nods towards a shivering and pale man in a small group of others, "says the government had some sort of internment camp. A hospital. This is their list of dead. With addendums it seems, to give people peace. Perhaps you may know some of them."

Kris unfolds the paper carefully. He scans the list, his heart catching at seeing first Cassidy's, then Danielle's name. He turns the page carefully, trying to keep his face composed. He pauses on the third page.

He forces his hand to turn, swallows the grief that threatens to ruin everything.

"It's too bad," Kris manages to say, his voice steady.

"Why is that?"

"That so many had to die. If more had made it this way, we could have used them."

Prentice looks at him for a long time. "Vince."

"I'm sorry?"

"My name is Vince. You truly do think as if you were here when the lights went out."

"I take that as a high compliment."

"Perhaps we should have dinner, your family and mine?"

Kris nods. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

Vince shakes his head. "No. I have to report to the General. I will call on you."

"It would be my pleasure."

Kris makes a slight bow and walks away. He makes it two blocks before having to bend over and empty his stomach into the bushes. His wife's name burns bright behind his eyes, but he stands up, looks around, and continues down the street.

*
October 1, 2013
US 40, Western Oklahoma

There is a red flag, buried in the ground.

"They figured out the sign," Drew says, looking to the horizon. The screams are faint, the smell thankfully nonexistent.

"Of course they did," Cale says. "They are after all, still human. At least somewhere inside there is a human. We should make it more complicated."

"Don't eat here, the food is terrible?" Grace suggests.

"Perfect," Drew says. "We'll put it on that road sign there. In green so they don't think of the color."

Drew consults the road map again. They'll have to detour around Oklahoma City. He hopes not too far. The knowledge that they have somewhere to go has helped, but they are all wearing down now.

"Let's go," he says, walking down the next exit ramp.

*
October 5, 2013
Boulder

"Mrs. Johnson, Allison speaks of you very fondly," Kris says as he walks into the foyer. "She sends her regret, but Hannah has been terribly ill."

"Nothing too serious?"

"No. Just a very bad cold."

"Well, when you return home give her my well wishes. Come in, Craig is waiting for you."

Kris walks down the hall, his heart beating in his chest. He's done well so far, but this could be his life. Allison's. Hannah's. He lets out a breath before entering the dining room.

"General Johnson, sir."

"Mr. Cook. Welcome. Have a seat."

Dinner goes by quickly, Mrs. Johnson asking after Allison and the baby, about how Kris and Alli had met before. The General is mostly silent, watching. The General is testing Kris, waiting for his story to contradict Allison's. But Kris has told himself the story so many times, he almost believes it himself.

After dinner, Mrs. Johnson makes excuses and leaves. Kris knows this is when it begins.

"So, Mr. Cook. You've been angling to become a soldier for a long time. You've been doing very well in school. Despite the initial misgivings you gave at your entrance exam."

Kris smiles. "Yes, sir. I never used to be much of a school person."

Kris has to admit, that he's been genuinely interested in learning. If there's anything he's been good at, it's adapting and creating a strategy for adapting. As far as he can tell, that's all being a soldier is. Just that the strategies mean lives instead of votes.

"Why do you think that's changed?"

"I saw that the soldiers here had the greatest freedom."

"They also have the greatest responsibility. They must do what others cannot. You do realize that.'

"I'm aware."

"So you would follow orders I gave, even if they seemed to contradict whatever lies in your heart?"

"Sir, I've learned a lot of things since the lights went down. But since I've come here, I know three certain facts. One: this may be the most stable area of the country. Arkansas and Texas seem to have things going all right, but the Eaters in Oklahoma threaten what little peace they have." Kris swallows any heartache over not being home yet. "Two: Your decisions, however strange and alarming, are usually right. Three: If I want to live to see my grandchildren, this is the place to do it, and you are the commander to make it happen. I may not like everything you do, but damn if it doesn't work."

Kris holds his breath. There was enough honesty in that statement, because General Johnson was very good at what he did. Kris has no intention of seeing his grandchildren here, although he has to admit, at least here they would be relatively safe from a horrible death.

"Honesty," the general says. "I don't get that a lot. But I hear many good things about you. As long as you still want it, the next open enrollment starts mid-October."

"Thank you, sir. If I may be excused, I'd like to check on Hannah."

"Absolutely. And Kris?"

"Yes sir?"

"I may appreciate honesty, but be careful. Not everyone is as magnanimous as I."

Kris nods and leaves. His heart still beats in his chest. He's one step closer to home. He doesn't even know if he can make it through the training. But he's going to try.

*
October 7, 2013
US40, near Pierce, Oklahoma

Grace rubs her eyes. She wants to tell Drew to stop, that they all need rest.

But even as far north as they had swung, they can still hear the noises. The screams. The chanting.

They can see the black cloud of smoke in the sky.

Thankfully, they cannot smell it. Today. Tomorrow, the wind may blow a different direction.
So the lack of sleep is understandable: none of them want to be anywhere near it for longer than they have to. But they are too tired. Stupid tired.

Yet when Drew puts the map (which has been folded too many times) away, and begins to move east, Grace says nothing.

She looks back, to what seems to be the largest Eater encampment they have encountered.

One more day.

Maybe two.

She's sure they can manage that.

*
October 10, 2013
Boulder

Allison and Kris whisper in the night. It's the only time they know that no one listens. They hope. Even then they keep their talks brief. They still share a room with Hannah, but they have at least moved from being squeezed in a room with four others.

"Kris, I don't know," Allison says.

"I can't think of any other way. I won't get another opportunity. Soldiers can get their families out of the city."

"What if they ask you to do something you can't?"

"I don't know, Alli. I honestly don't. I have to try."

Allison nods. "Be careful. Don't stand out too much. Keep yourself alive."

Kris nods, squeezing her hand. "It'll be okay."

He hopes he isn't lying.

*
October 14, 2013
Boulder

Kris stands in the pavilion. Robert is there too, a lone familiar face. They've already weeded out people who haven't been invited and sent them on their way. With a healthy reminder that being a soldier for the Federated State of Colorado was not a right, but a privilege.

Kris looks at the soldiers surrounding him and the thirty others here. He recognizes a few, sees Vince in a far corner, giving no sign of any favor.

"After you take the oath, there is no going back. Desertion is not accepted. Failure is not tolerated. And most of all, if you cannot be the best, the strongest, and the brightest, you may as well walk away now."

The sergeant went on, talking about the glories of the Republic, the mightiness of their righteousness.

"You think this will work?" Robert whispers to Kris.

"I have no idea," Kris admits. "I don't."

Kris holds up his hand and takes the oath. Makes a promise he intends to break as soon as he can.

"Welcome soldiers. Welcome to the greatest endeavor you will ever make."

If he can.

*

The patrol reaches them midday. Cale knows where they are now, recognizes landmarks, and sees the changes.

"Ricky?"

One of the men lowers his bow. "Cale Mills. My God. Your friend Ryland said you were coming, but we weren't sure."

Cale grins and looks at the rest of the group. If Ryland is here, everything is fine.

"Everyone, this is Ricky, general troublemaker and apparent bowman. Ricky, I'm sure you know Adam, and possibly Tommy, and maybe even Drew. This here is Bowie, and the young lady in the back, is Grace, a dear friend we have made along the way."

"Nice to meet you all. I'm sure you'll want to go to the farm."

"Absolutely. Has the list made its way here?"

Ricky nods. "We were all real torn up about Katy."

"How is Kris doing?"

Ricky looks at Cale, says nothing. Then he looks at the rest of the party, at their hopeful faces.

"Ricky?"

Ricky looks at the ground for a minute. "Kris isn't here Cale."

"What?"

Ricky swallows. "Ryland says they were waylaid in Albuquerque. There were men from Colorado. No one has heard anything since."

"Allison?"

It's barely a whisper.

Ricky shakes his head. "I'm sorry."

Cale sits on the ground before he falls over. He feels the hand on his shoulder, but doesn't look up to see who it is. He's tired and hungry, and everything that's kept him going, kept him alive this long, isn't here. He's wants to feel something, but cannot think of what to feel first.

"Welcome home," he whispers, putting his face in his hands.

PART THREE