Broken Worlds Super Boxset (65 page)

***

Jake had his pistol out of his holster and on his desk. He spun it in circles, the gun’s metal and composite material twirling on the desk’s slick surface. The computer screen in front of him pinged with a notification. He stopped the pistol mid-spin then in the same fluid motion tucked it back into its holster. It was an email from Alex.

Found a name for you to check. Evelyn Penn. I think Todd had a daughter.

Jake typed the name into the Coalition database, but it came up empty. He cross-referenced the name with the federal servers, but his access was denied. “Sydney!”

The sound of Sydney’s feet scurrying toward his office flooded the hallway. He arrived at Jake’s door bent over and out of breath. “Yes?”

“I need you to break into the federal servers,” Jake said, flipping the monitor around and handing Sydney the keyboard. A few keystrokes later and he was in. Jake snatched the keyboard back and re-entered the name. There was one hit, and it came with an address. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. “Hey. Yeah, I need a flight to San Francisco immediately. What? Then get me a truck!”

Jake slammed the phone on the desk, almost breaking it in half. California had three working airports that were still operational. Each of them were co-regulated by the Air Force and the Soil Coalition where shipments of seafood were picked up and distributed to other areas of the country to help supplement the food supply. Aside from the supply shipments and the occasional personnel transport, the airport runways stayed inactive. All commercial flights had stopped once the communities were established. And any transport needed for civilians were handled by trucks. But with the current climate, the Air Force had taken control of the West Coast. It was going to be a long drive.

***

The map Jake was given showed which roads had been cleared running through and around San Francisco. The beginning waves of famine affected the cities first, which relied heavily on daily deliveries to keep its stores open. Once the shipments stopped, panic set in. Three months after the discovery of GMO-24, the authorities lost control of most of the major cities.

Fires and looting ravaged neighborhoods and boroughs. It took weeks to re-establish any sense of order, and when it did, the government was quick to section off most of the city. Only essential infrastructure points to keep the country stabilized were maintained, which meant huge sections of cities were left to rot and rust.

Most of the roads that Jake needed to navigate to make it to Todd’s former address were not cleared. Abandoned cars, smashed windows, and trash all presented themselves as roadblocks. He eventually had to park the truck and hike it on foot the rest of the way.

Each step Jake took was careful, deliberate. His eyes scanned the surrounding buildings, looking for any possible attackers. The abandoned city buildings were the perfect hiding location for any escaped community members or citizens that avoided relocation. The place could be crawling with them, and most of them were probably desperate enough to try and attack him, not that he had anything but his pistol on him, which he’d be glad to show off.

The building Jake arrived at, which was the location of Todd’s address, was a large apartment complex that was laid out in a square protecting an empty swimming pool and lawn furniture inside. Most of the windows were smashed, and a putrid wave of stink burned his nostrils. He drew his pistol, checking the apartment numbers on the second floor. 245 was the number he was looking for. The numbers increased to the left from the 217 that he was standing in front of, and Jake followed them around until he found a staircase.

Once he made it to the second floor, the barrel of his gun poked around the side of the wall, followed by his left eye. The hallway was empty with the exception of dirt and trash. Most of the curtains were closed on the windows he passed, but some of them were left open, revealing everything that those who lived here left behind.

People always spoke about what they took with them whenever they were going somewhere, but Jake always found it far more interesting to see what the people left behind. Because at some point in their lives, that object, thing, or memento meant something to them. Why did it not mean anything now? How could they at one point invest in something they wanted and then no longer find it necessary? Books. Furniture. Phones. Movies. Televisions. Toys. Games. All left to decay in the last spot its previous owner left it. Countless items abandoned in the heat of decision.

A few of the doors were open and as Jake passed them, he took a better look inside. Everything was dark, and most of the rooms were trashed. Clothes were flung carelessly to the ground and chairs knocked over in the quick haste of evacuation. Jagged pieces of mirrors and television glass protruded from the carpeted floors where looters had done their work.

Finally, Jake made it to apartment 245. The room was completely destroyed. The kitchen table had been flipped to its side, trash littered the carpet, the couch cushions had been torn from the sofa, and inside the bedroom the mattress was sideways on the bed frame with the dresser toppled onto the carpet.

Jake pulled open drawers, looked in the closet, and checked cabinets, but the wrecked house and broken picture frame of a young couple that was most definitely not Todd Penn all led to one thing: whatever remnants of Todd that used to be here were long gone. The address was a dead end.

Jake went back to the truck, which was still covered by the garbage he used to conceal it when he parked it next to another group of abandoned vehicles, where he hoped it would go unnoticed by anyone passing by. And it worked. His next stop was the local fishing villages on the coast.

The sun hovered just above the western horizon when Jake arrived at the Frisco Bay village. Small makeshift stands along the beach hung freshly caught fish from the edges of their roofs. A small dock jutted out from the sand where a few boats were returning from their day at sea; some of them propelled by motors, others paddled by hand.

Jake’s foot smooshed into the brown California sand as he made his way down to the water. The waves rolled and curled onto the beach, splashing white foam across the thick layer of shells. The sunburnt faces of the fishermen hauling their catches up to be weighed and gutted glared at him. These villages weren’t accustomed to the same rigorous structure of the communities inland. Here on the coast, the Navy had given citizens free rein over the waterways so long as they produced fish. The sight of Jake was a representation of the Soil Coalition as well as the possibility that what freedoms they had would be taken away. Which Jake knew was just a matter of time.

A splash of fish guts hit the ground, discoloring the brown sand next to the fishing stand. The leathery face of an old man with white wisps of hair across his face looked up at Jake, who had snuck up on him. The old man held the worn handle of a rusty knife and eyed the pistol tucked in Jake’s shoulder holster. He hesitated a moment before tossing the fish into a box and moved on to the next lifeless sea creature.

“What do you know about the area here?” Jake asked.

“Depends on what you want to know,” the old man said, slicing through the blue scales of a fish’s neck. “You Coalition?”

“You have a problem with it if I was?”

“Not as long as I don’t have to go anywhere with you.”

“What do you know about North Fair Oaks?”

“I know that it’s out of the safe zone, and anybody that tries to go in there is a wanted fugitive of the state.”

“What about before?”

“Wasn’t much there. Apartments and such. It was where a lot of the students at the university lived. Cheaper there than in Palo Alto.”

“What university?”

“Stanford. It’s just south of there.”

Having had enough of the stink of the fish guts mixed with the salty ocean air, Jake stomped through the sand back to the truck. He was about to be the first person in his family to go to college.

As usual, they waited an hour after curfew checks before they headed out. It was always the worst hour of Todd’s life. He sat on the edge of his bed, which was already made, and reached for the watch on his nightstand. The second hand ticked steadily forward. He shoved it in his pocket and then walked over to the corner of his room. He crouched down and picked at one of the floorboards. It wiggled until he managed to pull it up, revealing a small space with a folder tucked inside. He grabbed the folder, which revealed a pistol coated in a thick layer of ash. He stared at the pistol for a few seconds before he returned the false panel to its original spot.

Ray and Nelson were already in the living room waiting for him, and the three snuck out the back to meet Emma. Even in the pitch black of night, he could find his way to their meeting spot. He’d done it dozens of times over the past year. He didn’t even need to look up anymore when he walked, his feet led him exactly where he needed to go.

The four walked in silence. It took them an hour to make it to the bunker just north of the community. Todd looked behind them, making sure the sentries hadn’t seen them, not that they were heavily guarded at night anymore. The only area they watched was the front gate on Main Street. Over the past year, the sentries had lightened midnight shifts. While the prospect of indentured servitude didn’t sit well with most people, their fear of starvation won out over their desire for freedom. It was the path of least resistance, and the masses of the population flocked to it like a rat searching for cheese in a maze.

Upon reaching their destination, and with the community completely out of sight behind them, the four of them dropped to their knees and began digging into the grey ash. They spread out, each of them at a separate corner of an imaginary square. Todd’s fingers fumbled along the lumpy iron chain buried underneath the earth and grabbed hold firmly, with the others following his lead.

“One, two, three,” Todd said, and the four of them pulled the chains, lifting a section of the earth up and sliding it sideways with grey ash sifting off the sides of the metal plate. They moved it a few feet, exposing a small door, and then lowered it back to the ground. Emma went in first, followed by Nelson, Ray, and lastly Todd.

Todd started the generator, and the lights in the underground lab flickered on. Dozens of rows of plants were potted in clear boxes, each labeled with different letters and numbers on the side. Todd laid the folder he brought with him on the desk where Emma was pulling out her own notebook.

“We need to make it fast,” Todd said. “With Billy gone we won’t be receiving any fuel deliveries any time soon.”

The lab was nothing more than a simple rectangle with a large table running down the middle, creating two aisles on each side, with a computer station at one end and another spare working station at the opposite. The lab wasn’t high tech, but the efficiency with which they ran it made up for what equipment they lacked.

Nelson fired up the main computer to check the samples and Ray started cataloging the growth of the plants. Todd walked over with Ray and touched a leaf of a tomato plant that had grown ripe. He ran his finger over the smooth flesh of the tomato’s skin. He plucked it from the vine, brought it to his nose, and inhaled the flavor it so generously provided.

“All of the soil variations seem to have responded well,” Nelson said. “But samples AG-45K and AG53U looks to have the best results.”

“Where are they from again?” Emma asked.

“Kansas, and Oklahoma,” Nelson answered.

“So, it’s ready?” Ray asked.

Nelson looked from the computer to Todd, who still held the tomato in his hands, then back to Ray. “Yes. Yes, I think we’re done.”

“Hell yeah!” Ray said, giving a fist pump. “It’s been a long time coming.”

“Todd,” Emma said. “Come take a look at this.”

Todd tossed the tomato in the air and caught it while keeping his eyes on Emily, who was comparing the notes in Todd’s work to her own.

“You double checked these numbers?” Emma asked.

“Triple checked,” Todd answered.

“That can’t be right.” Emma got up from her chair, massaging her forehead while going over the notes in her folder. She absentmindedly walked over to the soil samples and started checking their labels.

“What’s up?” Ray asked. “I thought everything was good.”

“No, it’s not that. Nothing is bad,” Emma answered. “It’s just…”

“What?” Todd asked.

“According to these numbers, every single soil sample in here should have run out of nutrients by now. We’ve been gone for over a month, and the nutrient levels were only supposed to last two weeks.”

“Soooo that means?” Ray asked.

“The soil is self-sustaining,” Emma answered. She rushed over to Todd, who was the only person not looking at her. His eyes were still focused on the tomato in his hand. “Todd, this won’t just solve the soil crisis, it will change the lives of everyone on the planet.”

“We did it,” Todd whispered. The weight of the past three years slowly lifted from his shoulders. All of the pain, all of the sacrifice, all of the risks had finally paid off. He wrapped Emma up in a hug, then felt the smack of Ray’s body against his back as he joined in. Emma wiped her eyes and Todd brushed her hair back. As hard as the past three years had been on him, he knew it’d been harder on her. Todd leaned down and gently kissed her forehead. Her hot skin pressed against his lips. He was always amazed at how warm she was.

“It would have been her birthday in a few weeks,” Emma said.

“I know.”

“Did you talk to her today?”

“I did. I told her how much we loved her. And how much we miss her.”

“Um, Todd?” Nelson asked.

“What is it?” Todd answered.

Nelson swiveled in his chair from the computer. “When I wiped our information from all database servers, I inserted a security checkpoint into the Coalition’s database in case anyone ever came looking for us.”

“And?”

“Your name has been searched over forty times in the past month.”