B. E. V. (9 page)

"Be quiet, Bev. If we don't find anyone, next stop is town. At least we'll learn if anyone was taken prisoner and which way they went."

Not many homes existed out this way. The few we passed were smoking wrecks, burnt to the ground, or with doors broken in and windows smashed out. As we headed for my house, we saw no one, not even livestock.

The devastation I'd imagined happening to the farm during the attack was far worse when seen in daylight. The personnel carriers crushed the fence, twisting the chain-link into useless metal. Explosions from the landmines pitted large sections of the yard into gaping holes, and the house itself crumbled into a smothering pile.

"No use searching for anything around here," I said, shaken by the sight. I picked my way over to my shed. The bent fender of my scooter poked out from beneath the collapsed roof. "There isn't even enough left to make a doghouse."

Kat's home was still standing. The front door swung by one hinge, and clothing made a line across the front lawn – a pair of Kat's underwear fluttered from a branch of the willow tree in front of the house.

"Do you want to go in?" I asked.

"For a moment," Kat replied. We crept up to the broken door and entered. Inside, papers, books, and the contents of every drawer scattered on the rug in heaps. "Oh, no," Kat whispered. She stooped and picked up a smashed photograph of her parents and slipped the picture out of the frame, tucking it into her shirt.

I waited in the living room while she wandered around from the kitchen to the bath, muttering under her breath. She stopped at the bedrooms last, first her dad's and then hers, returning with a stuffed pillowcase. Mr. Piggy's head stuck out of the top. "I'm all done," she said quietly. "Let's go."

We climbed back into Bev. "I guess next stop is the town. Bev –"

"Wait!"

Kat sprang up and hurried to the door. "What is it, forgot something?" I asked.

She leaped out of Bev's hatch without replying. I watched while she dashed to the willow in the front yard, made a flying leap, and ripped down her underwear. She strode back and stuffed them into the pillowcase without saying anything to me.

I couldn't help it, I let out a snicker and pointed at the pillowcase with my finger. "Anything else?"

"What are you laughing about?" Kat snapped at me as she slouched back into her seat and strapped herself in. Her face was red.

"I didn't know you could jump so high," I choked out between gasps. "Is it a new sport, panty jumping?"

"Pervert," she said. "Let's start moving."

While we drove to Paradise Cove, a light mist began, obscuring the wall until we were right on top of it. I expected to see the main entrance manned in case of another attack, but the gate was gone, huge gaps pockmarked the wall, and the sentry towers were deserted.

We passed the guard shack with no one challenging us, and rolled along the main street, skirting rubble. The side streets we didn't even attempt to navigate, other than to stop and search for people; collapsed buildings and wrecked vehicles clogged each we passed.

"Do you think anyone is still alive?" wondered Kat. Dead bodies littered the sidewalks.

"There has to be," I said. "Morgan couldn't have killed or captured everyone, they must be hiding."

At the end of the street, a lone figure, a girl, sat on the curb, covered in mud, barefooted. She stared at her hands.

It was Sonja.

She didn't glance up as we stopped. We climbed out and hurried to her. "Sonja, are you all right?" I asked and shook her gently by the shoulder.

Her head jerked around, terror in her eyes, and shrank back from me in fear. Kat sat next to her and held her hands.

"Sonja, it's us." Kat reached out, took Sonja's cheeks, and swung her head around, staring into her eyes, "Kat and Hunter. Are you all right? What happened?"

Recognition flashed across Sonja's face. "Kat?" She scrutinized me. "Hunter?" Her hair hung in limp strands, plastered to her face by the rain. She burst into tears and buried her head in Kat's shoulder.

Kat's lips twisted with concern. "It's okay now, everything is all right." She said, patting Sonja on the back and giving her a tight hug. "Tell me what happened."

I took out my handkerchief and handed it over to Kat; she wadded it into a ball and wiped away Sonja's tears and some of the dirt from her face.

"Feel better, now?" Kat asked.

"Uh-huh. Thanks," Sonja replied and snatched the hanky, blowing her nose. "It was terrible!" she wailed.

"The fighting?" I asked.

Sonja cast a frightened glance from Kat to me. "We watched from the upstairs window of my house," she sniffled. "My dad made me and my mother stay home. The men went to meet those soldiers and suddenly – suddenly –" She choked back a sob and said, "Fighting started, screaming, and a lot of shooting. These big trucks rolled down the street with men everywhere."

"What happened next?" Kat whispered.

"I don't know." Sonja was calmer, as if she recited from a book. "My mother and I hid in the basement when the men stormed down the road. I heard explosions. More screams. Saw smoke." She glanced up and down the street. "My mother fell asleep, I couldn't. I decided to come out here. Everything is gone."

I sat on the other side of her, and then backed off. She smelled of raw sewage. "Don't worry," I said, "we'll rebuild. Did you see my pop anywhere, or Kat's dad?"

Sonja shook her head. "No, your dad was part of the party meeting the soldiers," she replied, composing herself. "I didn't see any of them come back."

"How about Kat's dad?" I said when I saw the worry on Kat's face. "Did he go out with my pop?"

Sonja chewed on her lip, thinking back. "No. Kat's dad stayed here, I saw him, I think, but I don't know what happened to him afterward. Everything was so confusing." She noticed Bev sitting on the roadway for the first time. "What's this?" She pointed with a shaky finger, fear creeping back into her voice.

"Don't worry, it's Bev," said Kat. "She's with us."

Sonja frowned and narrowed her eyes. "What do you –?"

Before I was stuck with a long explanation, or Bev spoke up and freaked Sonja out, I said, "Is there anything we can do for you, Sonja? Take you home, maybe? Do you want to come with us?"

She surveyed Bev suspiciously. "No, I feel better now. I'm going to sit here a while longer and see if anyone I know comes by, and then go home and find out if my mother is awake. Have you seen Hank?" she asked hopefully.

"No, you're the first person we've run across, everyone else is still hiding, I guess."

"Where are you going now?" Sonja asked. "Stay here?"

"No, we can't," I denied, "We have to locate our dads."

She clutched at my shirt, obviously upset. I added, "Maybe we'll see Hank and bring him back with us." Sonja appeared so miserable I said, "Are you sure you'll be all right here by yourself?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," she mumbled, staring back down at her hands.

We left Sonja perched on the side of the road and climbed back into Bev. "Well, this was a bust," Kat said. "Did you notice the tower was down? Even if our dads weren't captured and are lost somewhere, they still can't let us know if they're all right."

I felt bad about leaving Sonja all alone. "Sonja was a mess, wasn't she," I said, "and she stunk. I hope nothing happens to her, sitting there."

"Did you notice?" Kat whispered to me.

"What?" I scanned the street for soldiers. "I don't see anything."

"Black roots."

"Huh? What black roots, what are you talking about?" We hadn't passed any downed trees, but Kat appeared smug.

"Sonja's hair – she had black roots," Kat said in triumph, crossing her arms and lounging back in her seat. "I always suspected she wasn't a natural blonde."

I couldn't understand how Kat would notice hair when Sonja was so upset; but she sat, smirking, as if she'd discovered a big secret. "This is no time to be –"

Kat put her finger to her mouth. "I wonder if she pads her bra, too?" She glanced down.

This was a discussion I didn't even want to become involved in. I shook my head and changed the subject to things more important. "Do you think we should search the rest of the town? People might be down by the river leaving."

"Huh?" Kat was busy studying the front of her shirt. "Oh, no. If either of our dads were still here, they'd be out helping people," she glanced at a body, "or cleaning up. This whole thing was a waste of time."

"Not really, at least we know where they're not," I replied. "The question is, where are they now?"

"We're done with this?" Bev said, "We're playing word games? Good. Let's see, is it bigger than my garage?"

Kat and I ignored her. "Well, Morgan marched from the west," Kat said.

"Which means they're probably traveling east, scavenging everything they find before turning back," I replied, thinking. "Last night we saw the lights moving around in different directions. Do you remember which way most went?"

"A round? Maybe it's round? A small round garage for my little sister?"

"I think east," Kat said, "Yeah, a bunch traveling east, some moving west, and a few heading north. So let's start checking east of here and see what we find." Kat called out, "Bev – eastward ho!"

"Hoe, it was a hoe?" Bev grumbled as she swung around. "Darn, I never win."

 

 

A short distance from the lab we located tracks from an armored vehicle. We followed the ruts until they joined others and the trampled grass of marching men.

The light drizzle, which started in the morning, tapered off as the moon rose. A thin layer of fog covered the earth, creating swirls as we passed, but tracking Morgan's army was easier than I thought; all we did was ride along the path of destruction, and garbage, left by ten thousand men on the march.

The next day was sunny and we made better progress, but we drove with a sense of urgency. We'd discovered bodies scattered along the way – prisoners who were unable to keep up.

"The little bird, with the little bill, was sitting on, my windowsill. I lured him in, with crumbs of bread, and then I smashed his, little head!"

"Bev – cut it out, will ya?" She had sung the same song over again for hours. "Are you picking up anything?"

"
Yo – ho, Columbo, his ba
– Wait! – Yes, I am." She paused and reported, "Three miles ahead. I've got a whole lotta something."

Kat leaned forward in her seat. "Can you tell what it is?"

"Nope – but someone better tell me to switch into stealth mode before we're spotted."

"Bev –
stealth mode!
" I shouted.

We topped a rise. Spread out before us was Morgan's army.

Men tramped in a mindless jumble, each hurrying on a task only he knew, ants crawling across the Earth – a distant roaring ocean filling the air. This sea of humanity stretched from one edge of a forest to the other, jamming the depression in between.

"Now isn't this a mess?" said Kat in disgust. "I don't know which ones are the soldiers, or who the prisoners are, and they all keep moving. How are we going to find anyone?"

"Gee, I don't know," I answered, searching for something resembling a prison. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

Kat crossed her arms and legs, tapping her foot in the air. "Well, we can't sit here, we've come this far, we have to do
something
."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let me think."

"We going down into the valley of death?" Bev asked. She crept forward to the edge of the tree line.

"No, better stop here," I said. "Even in stealth mode you're still too big. We can't go down there without leaving a big mess in our wake."

"Are you trying to say I'm fat?" wailed Bev.

I gritted my teeth. Bev wasn't making it easy to think.

"No, honey," said Kat swiftly as she saw my expression. "He means you're too awesome. All those soldiers would watch you and we don't want to be noticed." She gave me a shove. "Right?"

I saw I wasn't going to get any thinking done until Bev was stroked. "Oh, yeah." I nodded vigorously. "I meant to say you're so popular everyone would want to have a party."

I heard a sniff. "Thanks."

"Now the both of you – please, BE QUIET AND LET ME THINK!"

They simmered down and watched me.

I sat and thought.

I had nothing.

"There's no help for it," I said at last with a grunt. "I'll have to sneak down there and search around."

"I'm going too," Kat said at once.

"No, I need you to stay here," I replied. "Someone has to stick with Bev. We can't both afford to be captured."

"Are you sure?" She hesitated and said, "You know –"

I waved my palm at her before she could protest. "Piece of cake."

"Ooh, ooh, I've got an idea, wait!" Bev shouted. Lights flashed on her board. "Rear compartment, lower right-hand drawer. A button. Go get one."

I walked into the cargo bay and yanked open draws. I found a box marked "Trackers". Inside were black doodads reminding me of bugs. "This it?"

"Yep. Put it in your ear and we can track you anywhere."

"Great." I wedged it into place.

I spent the rest of the time scoping out the area, trying to get a fix where the soldiers kept the prisoners, without much luck. I thought I saw an area, segregated from the rest near the edge of the camp, but it was on the other side of the valley. Still, this was a place to explore, but I'd have to navigate through the whole army to reach there. As it grew dark, small campfires sprang up. I took a deep breath and said, "Here goes nothing."

Kat said, "Good luck, try not to get killed," and squeezed my arm.

Bev said, "With your shield or on it, soldier." She added, "You don't have a shield though, do you? I guess we'll have to drag you back here by your feet."

"Gee, thanks," I replied. "You give me a lot of confidence."

I made my way to the army, keeping to the bushes as much as possible. Men huddled around the fires, telling rude jokes and laughing among themselves. Trucks and personnel carriers were parked everywhere, and I thought I saw a row of old artillery pieces hooked up to the back of beat-up Humvees. No guards were posted, I guess whoever was in charge figured they didn't need any, and it was easy for me to waltz in as if I belonged there.

Some of the soldiers stared at me oddly, and I realized most wore some semblance of military uniforms – I was a tomato in a sea of asparagus. I fell back on an old trick I used when I didn't want people questioning me about my leg. Marching straight ahead, not glancing left or right, I pretended I was hurrying somewhere on an important errand.

"Hey you! Hold it right there." A hand fell on my shoulder, grabbed a bunch of my shirt, and swung me around. I guess I didn't appear busy enough.

A soldier in a ragged army uniform glared at me with suspicious eyes, three hash marks on his sleeve advertising he must be a sergeant or something.

"Say you, where'd you come from?" He peered at my face. "We didn't drag any of the youth corps with us."

I didn't know what a "youth corp" was, but I knew I wasn't a youth. "Ah – I'm a soldier. I'm supposed to be here." I tried to stand taller and threw my shoulders back.

"You, a soldier? A runt with a bad leg?" he scoffed.

I thought fast and said, "Uh – hurt it in the assault, sir – What's its name – Paradise Cave?"

"Paradise Cove," he corrected, nodding. "Yeah, they put up a good fight, got a lot of good stuff from there." He fixed me with a stern glare. "You know yer not supposed to be wandering around, right? We might receive orders to move any time. Where's yer unit?"

I had him halfway convinced I belonged here. I kept the lies rolling, trying hard not to stare at my feet. "Ah, my sergeant sent me to help guard the prisoners," I said, acting embarrassed and nervous, "but I got lost," I finished lamely.

"Yer sergeant?" He studied me again. "What sergeant? What's his name?"

I hadn't thought this far ahead and I was running out of lies. I blurted out the first name coming into my head. "Sergeant Jenkins, sir."

"Jenkins? Never heard of him," he admitted as he rubbed his cheek. The soldier held me lighter and arrived at a decision. "I think I'll give you an escort so you don't get lost again. Come along, kid."

The man kept ahold of my shoulder and weaved me around fires, tents, and ground vehicles toward the middle of the encampment until we stopped at a hastily setup chain-link fence. Inside, hundreds of people milled about or squatted in the mud. We followed the fence until we arrived at a gate with a tent set up.

"Here, I got yer replacement," the soldier pushed me forward into the arms of another man standing out front. "Keep an eye on him," he advised the other man with a knowing wink, "I think he was trying to slack off."

"Oh, yeah?" This soldier had even more stripes on his sleeve. He checked me over, confused. "We wasn't expecting any relief for another hour," he said, surprised. "What the heck did you bring me?"

"Don't know," the other said. "Found him wandering around, said he was searching for you. I brought him here, now he's your problem – I have my own men to worry about." The sergeant stalked away without a backward glance.

The guard watched him go with annoyance and swung around to me. "Well, explain yourself."

I gulped and stammered, "I don't know about all of this, sir. My sergeant told me to report here." I gave him my best stupid grin, "So here I am."

"No uniform, and where's yer weapon?" His jaw tightened and he snapped, "You sure your sergeant told you to report here? How are ya supposed ta guard prisoners without a weapon?" He acted more suspicious by the moment.

"Ah, I was never issued anything," I replied, trying to appear disappointed. "They kept promising me they would, but they never did." I don't know who "they" were but it sounded plausible with so many people.

I must have hit a nerve because he agreed with me. "Yeah, supplies have been slow. I've been waiting two months for a new pair of boots." He gestured to the prisoners, "Can't wait to get rid of this lot and hit a couple more towns. Maybe I'll scavenge a pair."

"Wouldn't it be great!" I agreed.

"Been sending them out in small groups back to Morgan City – not enough trucks either. Nothing works right in this army." He studied me again and cursed under his breath, "and of course they give me a kid with no weapon. Great, but what am I supposed to do with you now?"

I was taking a chance, and replied, "Tell me to go back to my unit and get some sleep?"

A short silence followed when I didn't know if he was going to laugh or throw me in with the rest of the prisoners. "No way," he finally chuckled. "I've got you now, and I'll find something or another for you to do. I just have to figure out what." He paused, considering. "Okay," he said in a doubtful voice, "You ain't going to be much use if you don't have a gun. I'm Sergeant Bixby. You stick with me for the time being." He yelled inside the tent. "Gonna walk the perimeter with the new guy – be back in a few."

I tagged along, trying to keep up while he stopped and chatted with each guard along the fence. I ignored the occasional comments coming my way as, "What do you know, Sarg found himself a lame puppy," and concentrated on scanning the prisoners we passed for signs of anyone I knew.

Inside the fence was a no-man's land separated by a smaller wooden stockade. Occasional prisoners stared across the gap with vacant eyes, blankets or jackets covering their heads to keep warm, and watched as we sauntered by. A few called out to us, hoping for a handout.

There didn't seem enough guards for all these prisoners. I asked Sergeant Bixby, "Aren't you afraid they'll try to escape?" They must have a thousand men jammed in this little prison, the reek of urine and unwashed bodies made me retch.

"Ha!" Bixby pointed to a stern-faced soldier we passed with a laser rifle. "The men have orders to shoot to kill if anyone crosses the wood fence. We nicked a few, shot one. The rest got the message mighty fast."

"Oh."

We arrived at a spot were a guard was supposed to be posted. The sergeant stopped and did a slow scan of the area with a scowl. "I'm going to have somebody's hide for this," he muttered, "can't leave when you want to and not let anyone know." He spun around and said to me in disgust, "You stay here until I send someone back."

"What if they try to escape?" I replied.

Bixby gave me a sour smirk. "Don't be nervous, kid, they won't, and they don't know you're not armed, but if anyone tries anything, give a yell." He gestured up and down the fence. "People will come a-running to help you. Now stand here, I'll be back in a minute." He stalked off, leaving me alone.

As soon as he was out of sight, I stepped close to the fence, and started searching the faces, searching for Pop. No one was close and it was too dark to see far. Along the stockade, a figure made his slow way along the line, not venturing too close, occasionally stopping and talking to the guards. When he drew nearer, I saw it was a kid about my own age, a blanket draped over him for warmth.

"Hey, fella," he whined, "have anything to eat?" Mud plastered his body, and a jagged rip ran down one side of his pants leg. "Come on," he said pleading, "anything, I'm starving. Even a piece of candy, please?" He acted ready to bawl.

It was Hank Jenkins.

I checked left and right, and pressed as close as I dared to the fence. "Hank – it's me, Hunter." I breathed.

"Hunter!" He shuffled up to the stockade. "How'd you get here? Did you come to rescue me? Y – you have to, I'm dying in this place!"

"I can't," I whispered back, "not right now anyway, and keep your voice down. Do ya want the other guards to hear us?" I checked around to see if anyone was listening. "Have you seen my pop, or Mr. Brennen? Anyone from our town?"

"Saw Mr. Brennen." He nodded back toward the middle of the prison. "He's in bad shape. Haven't seen your pop, or anyone else I know. We're all jumbled in here – they've got people from different towns all thrown together. Can't make friends either, no one trusts each other, food's short and someone will cut your throat for a piece of bread." He glanced around. "Come on, you got to figure a way to bust me out of here."

I had to do something fast, Sergeant Bixby might return anytime or send someone to relieve me. "Get Mr. Brennen and meet me here in," I estimated the time it would take to walk back to Bev, "in three hours. I've brought help – maybe I can break you both free."

Hope flashed in his eyes. "You sure?" He beamed at me. "Gee, thanks!"

"Try finding my pop, will ya?" I urged. "I can't leave him here if he's still alive."

Hank nodded in understanding. "I'll try, but, you know, I told you –"

"Hey, you okay down there kid?" one of the other guards along the line yelled to me. He took a few hesitant steps in my direction.

"Uh, yeah," I shouted back. "One of these skels asking for a handout, no problem."

"Well, send him on his way," he called back. "You know the rules, no talking to the prisoners, and no food. They're fed in the morning."

I whispered to Hank, "I know you'll try. You locate Pop, Mr. Brennan and the others. I gotta figure out a way to sneak out of here myself," I caution Hank. I glanced around again to make sure the other guard hadn't decided to investigate my station. "I'll be back as soon as possible."

"All right, Skel," I shouted loud enough for the rest of the guards to hear. "Get moving, I ain't got nothing for you. Shove off!"