Colony East (33 page)

“The storm’s hitting in three days,” he said. “We have to wait until they get the second shipment of pills. They won’t arrive until after the hurricane clears out.”

“Agreed,” Abby said. “How do we get the pills?”

“Droznin is passing them out.”

“I’ve been inside her office,” Abby said.

Jonzy rubbed his arm where she had punched him. “I bet she did that bit with the dolls? Fit them all together and say there’s no more room in Colony East.”

Abby gave him a nod. ”Yep. Weird. Medical Clinic 17 will be locked, but we can break the glass.”

Jonzy smirked, “Too noisy.”

“Not if we hold a blanket against the glass, then smash it with a rock.”

“How do you know that?”

“Cuz I’m smart,” Abby said.

“Okay, if you’re so smart, how do we hide from the video camera aimed at the door?”

Abby shrugged. “We go through a window. Once we’re inside, we might need a crowbar to pop open Doctor Droznin’s door. Got a crowbar?”

Jonzy spread his arms. “New York City used to be the shopping capitol of the world. There’s a crowbar for sale somewhere out there.”

“When do we go shopping?” she asked.

“Tomorrow night.”

“Is it safe?”

Jonzy shrugged. “They haven’t caught me yet. What else do we need?”

“Gems,” Abby said. “Diamonds are worthless, but we can trade rubies and pearls for rides, food, information.”

“I have two walkie-talkies and a gun,” Jonzy said.

Abby’s stomach dropped. “No gun.”

Jonzy frowned. “I could have had a hundred guns. I went to an apartment building on the Upper East Side. Everyone owned a gun.”

She drilled him with a hard stare. “No.”

“Okay, no gun.”

“Thank you. We need plastic containers to keep things dry, like the pills and the walkie-talkies. There might be flooding after the hurricane.”

“Food is easy,” Jonzy said. “Every day, take something in your pockets from Grand Central. Stuff that won’t spoil, like rice and potatoes.”

“We need maps. Especially a street map of Brooklyn.”

Jonzy said he would get a Yellow Pages phone book so they could pick out the stores they needed to visit. “Every room in the hotel above the fourth floor has the Yellow Pages.”

Then the conversation turned to finding a way out of Colony East.

To the north, Jonzy explained, armed guards patrolled the Red Zone. That perimeter also had an electric fence. The underground subway tunnels leading to Brooklyn, the Bronx, Queens, and New Jersey had all been sealed off, as had the Holland Tunnel and Brooklyn Battery Tunnel. The only bridge left standing was The George Washington, and it had a barricade that would require dynamite. Abby nixed Jonzy’s idea of adding dynamite to the shopping list. Finally, he told her that both the Hudson and East Rivers were crawling with patrol boats.

Despite the long odds, Abby felt the excitement that comes from making decisions and taking action, knowing she could live with the consequences. Over the past several weeks, she had started seeing herself less as “lucky person 1102” and more as “prisoner 1102.” A prisoner ready to escape a formidable, high-security prison.

“I vote we swim,” she said.

“Too many patrol boats,” Jonzy blurted.

“When I swam to the windmill, I had to shout and wave my arms to get the attention of Ensign Mathews.”

“I have a fear of the water.”

“Jonzy, I have a fear of being electrocuted on a fence.”

“Seriously, Abby, when I was five, my uncle tried to teach me to swim by throwing me in the deep end of a pool.” She heard the rising panic in his voice.

“All right, we’ll keep thinking.”

Something caught Abby’s attention. The lights of the patrol boats all swerved in one direction and formed a line, like ants returning to their nest. “Look. Where are they going?”

“Shift change,” Jonzy explained. “The skippers go to the ferry terminal and a new crew takes over.”

“So for a moment, the river is completely free of boats?”

“Abby, there’s something else we need. Sleep. I’ve been up late every night for the past three weeks. Today, I fell asleep in physics class. Lieutenant Dawson will get suspicious if my teacher reports me.”

“Jonzy, how long before the boats come out again?”

“Ten minutes.”

“So the river is free and clear for a full ten minutes?”

“Maybe nine minutes.” He paused. “Or less.”

Abby had a new item to add to the shopping list, but she didn’t think now was the time or place to disturb Jonzy with her idea.

TWO DAYS LEFT

Lieutenant Dawson picked up the mic and flipped the on switch. “Cadet Leigh, please report to the lobby, on the double.” He preferred reserving the public address system for comments made at reveille and lights out, but Leigh wasn’t in her living quarters and he didn’t want to be late for their meeting.

A minute later, Abigail entered the lobby.

“Where were you, Cadet?”

“Playing cards with Cadet Billings, sir.”

“We have a meeting with Doctor Droznin.”

He saw the blood drain from her face. They walked to Medical Clinic 17, making small talk, her voice shaky at first. From her overall friendly tone, Dawson thought Abigail was adjusting well after the incident with Toby Jones. He found it curious, though, that the normally inquisitive girl hadn’t asked any questions about their meeting with Droznin.

The waiting room was crowded with ensigns, sailors, and several scientists. Abigail was the only cadet.

A girl’s frightful scream inside Doctor Droznin’s office caused a stir outside. Chins lifted, eyes narrowed. It sent a chill down Dawson’s spine. When he looked over at Abigail, she was trembling and gripping the arm of the chair, her knuckles white.

Then Lieutenant Masters and a cadet emerged from the office. It took Dawson a moment to recognize the cadet. Her name was Gracie, and she was the older sister of Elsie, the sick little girl they had picked up in Brooklyn. Gracie was shaking and crying as Masters tried to console her.

Droznin stepped to the door and said in a cold flat tone, “Royce.”

Ensign Royce entered the office and re-emerged in less than a minute.

“Dawson and Leigh,” Doctor Droznin called from the doorway.

Dawson sat next to Abigail as Doctor Droznin made some notations in a book at her desk. Then Droznin opened a desk drawer and removed a bottle of blue pills. She put on a glove, knocked a pill into her palm, and passed it to him. “Chew or swallow. Do you need water?”

He shook his head and crunched the pill.

Next, Droznin removed a bottle from the same drawer. It had far fewer pills, and they were pink. Similarly, she placed a pink pill in her hand and held it out to Abigail. “Chew or swallow it. I have water if you need it.”

“What is it?” Abigail asked politely.

Dawson was wondering the same thing.

Droznin extended her hand further. “You saw my waiting room. We don’t have all day.”

“I want to know what it is,” the cadet demanded.

Droznin addressed him. “Lieutenant, please inform Ms. Leigh we can do this the easy way or the hard way. If necessary, we can restrain her and administer the dose rectally.”

“Doctor Droznin, I think you owe it to her to tell her what she’s taking.”

Droznin shot him a glare. “Should I have Doctor Perkins contact the admiral?”

Dawson clenched his jaw. “Yes, that might be a good idea, Doctor.” He kept his tone measured and calm.

“How’s my sister doing?”

Both he and Doctor Droznin turned to Abigail. Strangely, in Dawson’s battle of wills with the doctor, he had almost forgotten she was there.

“Did her drug trial go well?” Abigail added.

“Yes, Lizette responded well to the antibiotic,” Droznin said. “She has made a full recovery.”

Abigail held out her hand. “Give me the pill, please.”

Cadet Leigh crunched up the pink pill, and Droznin called the next patient. Dawson had no idea what just happened.

~ ~ ~

Jonzy threw down a card. “How do you feel?”

Abby picked up. “I’m not hungry, if that’s what you mean. But I only took the pill an hour ago.”

They had resumed their pretend game of Crazy 8’s in Jonzy’s living quarters.

“Gracie went before me,” Abby added. “I think Doctor Droznin told her that her sister died.”

Jonzy lowered his eyes briefly. “So Droznin gave Gracie the antibiotic?”

“Yeah, probably the blue pill. I got the pink pill.”

He smiled, but there was sadness in his eyes. “I’m really happy about Touk.”

Abby bit her lip and nodded. “It’s the best news ever.”

Jonzy gave a little snort. “I can’t believe Lieutenant Dawson just sat there while Doctor Droznin infected you with AHA-B.”

Abby shook her head. “It’s strange, but I don’t think he knew what I was taking.”

Jonzy picked up a card. “He’s a company leader. He has to know. If Admiral Samuels told the lieutenant to jump off a bridge, what do you think he’d do?”

“I’m not sure anymore.”

“He’d jump,” Jonzy said. “Trust me.”

Abby glanced at the door to make sure nobody was snooping outside. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she traced the outline of the bridge that connected Medical Clinic 17 to the hospital. “There are two windows, here and here. If we go out the hospital window, we can crawl across the top and smash the window in the clinic.” She winked at him. “Are you afraid of heights?” Abby had found that sometimes joking around helped a person with their fear.

Jonzy stared at her, saying nothing. Apparently, he wasn’t ready to joke about his fear of water.

He finally put down a card and picked one up. “That looks like a good way to get into the clinic. We have to be careful using the two-way radios. If we get separated, keep the messages short. Assume that someone will hear us. The best time to communicate is midnight, that’s when the adults are doing their own communications, so we need code names. I’ll be Lemon.”

Abby grinned. “Lemon?”

“That was my grandfather’s name.”

“You mean his nickname.”

“Nope, he showed me his birth certificate. Lemon Billings. What’s your code name?”

Abby shrugged.

“I got one for you.” Jonzy winked. “Bossy.”

“Bossy? Well, okay. But you’ll never have to call me that.”

“Because?”

“We’ll never get separated!”

~ ~ ~

Close to midnight, Abby entered the stairwell, ready to go shopping in the Big Apple. She found Jonzy waiting for her. They each carried packs with supplies they would need for the nighttime excursion. They had both memorized the stores they planned to visit from the Yellow Pages.

“Hungry yet?” he asked.

“Let’s go,” Abby whispered, realizing the gnawing sensation she felt in her stomach was more than a simple craving for a midnight snack.

They descended the stairs and moved through the dark lobby to the front door. Peering both ways, they saw it was all clear and stepped outside.

They moved east on Lexington Avenue, nearly hugging the buildings and storefronts to stay out of the pale moonlight. Even though the shift change had occurred an hour ago, Abby remained wary. She felt vulnerable on every street and intersection they crossed. She imagined it was how a prairie dog felt running from hole to hole while hawks circled overhead.

“Is your heart beating as fast as mine?” Jonzy asked after reaching the other side of Tenth Street.

Abby pressed her palm against his chest and felt a steady hum of beats. “It’s a tie.”

They arrived at their first destination without incident. The Triple A office seemed to be one of the few places in New York City that survivors had not bothered to raid. Travel planning services, Abby thought with a wry grin, were not of much use since the night of the purple moon.

She held the pillowcase against the glass door as Jonzy took aim with a rock. Later on, they hoped to get a hammer, but for now, the fist-size rock from Central Park Farm was all they had. When he adjusted his glasses, she prayed he’d be accurate. He reared back and swung his hand forward. Abby closed her eyes and heard the glass shatter in muted tingles. It amazed her that such a thin piece of cloth could muffle the sound so well. She trained the flashlight on the breech, and Jonzy carefully reached through the opening he’d created to unlock the door.

She scanned the office with her flashlight. Purple dust sparkled on the floor just inside the doorjamb. A family with two parents and two kids, sitting in a car with the Grand Canyon behind them, smiled down from a large poster on the wall. ‘The Best Way to See America’, the caption read.

With the image of the family firmly emblazoned in her mind, Abby took Jonzy by the hand and led him to a rack of maps. They grabbed a bunch and settled behind the counter. She cupped her hand over the flashlight and turned it on. Just enough light squeaked between her fingers for them to appraise their haul.

Jonzy found a street map of Brooklyn, and, from an atlas, Abby tore out maps of Maine, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Connecticut, and New York.

Their next stop, Macy’s, was a gold mine. The large department store was more typical of a post-comet store. Hundreds of survivors, if not thousands, had at one time camped on every floor. Some sections, like Bedding, had been totally trashed. Other areas looked as if they could open for business tomorrow. Abby found a red wig on a display, which she thought would go a long way toward improving the authenticity of her bed dummy. After smashing the jewelry case with the rock, she filled her pockets with pearls and gems for trading.

Jonzy found a hammer and crowbar in the tool department and retired the rock.

Not surprisingly, the kitchen section had no knives, pots, or pans, but plenty of blenders, food processors, toasters and electric coffee grinders. On a counter filled with plastics, they were happy to find two containers which would keep the walkie-talkies and pills dry.

The department kept on producing. Abby picked up a plastic cutting board with a hole cut in one end.

“What’s that for?” Jonzy asked.

Abby wasn’t ready to tell him it would make a good paddle for the rafts they were going to construct. She shrugged as she slipped two cutting boards into her backpack.