Darkness on a Pale Blue Stone (29 page)

"And I'm going to change the subject," Sean declared, navigating past another religious debate. "Anyone have any ideas for Zach's birthday next week?"

"Who's Zach?" Lash asked.

"Did you meet Tom and Misha? They live on the same street as us. Zach is their two-year old, soon to be three-year old, son," Sean explained.

"Oh, how cute! Are you thinking about throwing a..." Lash said, until she was interrupted by shouts down the road.

The commotion was coming from a small gun shop. It was one of the few places left in Jacksonville to get a weapon and the owner had a reputation of asking very expensive trades for anything he sold, except for discounts he gave for any veterans and military personnel. What had apparently been a barter disagreement had spilled out onto the street. As the group approached, they saw about ten grungy-looking gang members pointing guns at the store owner while he aimed his own pistol.

"Just give us what we want, old man," one of the gang members said. Jake recognized the yellow symbols on their shoulders. They were from the same gang that had set up the bridge toll in Georgia days ago.

"Hey!" Jake yelled, pulling out his gun. Gresson, Adam, Sean, and Lash also drew theirs. "We saw some of you people in Georgia. What are you doing here?"

"Screw off. This doesn't concern you," one of them, a teenage girl with a rifle, replied.

"Bullshit. This is New Jacksonville. No one starts trouble here without dealing with us," Jake said.

"New Jacksonville?" Lash quietly questioned.

"Just run with it, okay?" Jake whispered back.

"It's not very clever," Lash retorted.

"Who the hell are you?" one of the gang members, a man in his thirties, asked.

"We should ask you the same thing," Adam said.

"We are from the Sunrise Gang," the man said smugly.

Jake let out a loud laugh. "What kind of fruity name is that?"

The Sunrise Gang members all aimed at Jake.

"Jake..." Gresson warned, preparing for some quick trigger pulling.

"Not that we have to explain ourselves to you, but the purpose of our gang is to live to see the next sunrise. And the next. And the next," the man said proudly.

"The purpose of your gang is to live... for three days? Wow. That's... incredible," Jake mocked.

"What do you know, huh? If only you knew our leader, Q. T. Reginald. He's a visionary. The name of our gang is from his famous speech at..."

"Wait, wait, wait. Cutie Reginald? Really?"

The man repeated himself in a louder tone with a religious resolve "his
famous
speech
at our founding in Albany. It's his guidance that keeps alive, here at the end of the world. We don't have to fear about not seeing tomorrow. Not like a cretin like you!"

"Cretin?" Jake was again mystified by their vocabulary choice.

"Jake, enough," Gresson said.

"But, Gresson. 'Cretin?'"

"Are you really that offended?" Lash asked, hoping an appeal to his pride would shut him up.

"No, no. Just very, very confused. And disturbed."

"Are you done?" the man said. "We're here for weapons. And we will leave with weapons. Is that clear?" The others beside him smiled arrogantly. They had apparently been in situations like this before and prevailed.

"No," Gresson said.

A few of them now recognized Gresson, but their de facto leader did not. Instead he turned toward the gun store owner and shot him in the head. He spun back, expecting to be treated now with more respect. Instead he received two bullets to the skull.

It had taken less than one second for Gresson to drop all but one of the Sunrise Gang members. The last had taken a shot in the hand and she now cowered on the ground in terror.

Lash looked at Gresson in shock. The shots had happened so fast, she hadn't even had a chance to pull her own trigger, nor had Sean, Jake, or Adam. She had seen Gresson fire a gun before, but this time it was just as the Cases had described from their first night with him when he had killed a group of looters. His reflexes were imperceptibly fast. He had efficiently killed or maimed each of the ten without hitting anyone in the surrounding crowd.

Gresson inhaled through his nose then exhaled through his mouth. He walked over to the final gang member, the teenage girl.

"Go back and tell them never to come here again. New Jacksonville is off-limits."

The girl whimpered and ran off, holding her bloody hand.

"New Jacksonville?" Adam asked. "That's really what we're going with?"

"Jake made it up, not me. Blame him," Gresson said as he kneeled down to check on the store owner. He was dead. As Gresson stood back up, he noticed the crowd inching closer. One of them began to run for the open door of the store, now owned by no one.

"Hey, whoa!" Gresson protested. But the rush for free guns had begun. Gresson tried to block the doorway, but several people managed to squeeze inside. Someone else broke the front window. Marines finally arrived at the scene, but could do little to keep the crowd back.

Gresson fired his gun into the air. The crowd stopped moving and most ducked. "The store is closed! Everyone go home!"

"We need guns to protect ourselves!" someone yelled. A few agreements were heard.

"If you want to protect yourselves, leave!" Gresson shouted, pointing his gun at the crowd. There were shouts as many ran away. A few gave glares, but eventually retreated. Those inside surrendered the merchandise they had taken and begrudgingly left.

"This is chaos," Lash said.

"These people need more guns," Sean said.

Alice shook her head. "No. These people need a government."

Chapter 42

Moon - October 10, 2072

Andre read the words on the side of the lunar vehicle the engineers had affectionately named the "Hog." "Lunar Energy Solutions." They were printed in black against the red color of the vehicle. The bright red had been chosen to stand out on the rocky lunar surface in case of emergencies. Andre wondered about the employees of Lunar Energy Solutions, the ones on Earth, even the one who had picked the ugly color for the Hog.
What are they doing right now?
he thought.
Are they even alive?

Vadim walked over beside Andre. "You alright?"

"Yeah. I've just been thinking about what comes next. I mean, once we get back, what do we do then?"

"One thing at a time, Andre. We can go whenever you're ready."

"Everything's all set?"

"Pod's fixed, food's packed, and I convinced them to give us a few spare energy cells. They have enough power to last them forty years, even without solar energy. Our situation is a bit less predictable."

"Good. And we have enough fuel this time?"

Vadim nodded. "The guys here ran some tests. We re-calibrated the pod so it should be much more accurate. This time the trip will take us an extra ten hours, to be on the safe side. Andre, I know I already said it, but I'm sorry about what happened up there."

"Wasn't your fault."

"No, I panicked. I never should have increased the burn. It was stupid."

"We survived, Vadim. No one else could've pulled this off. Thanks to you, everyone back on the station doesn't have to starve."

"Okay," Vadim said, unconvinced. "Well, I think it's time we got off this rock."

They made their way over to the other side of the garage, where the pod was lying. When the two of them were inside, the engineers would tow them out of the garage and into the launch position. They said their goodbyes to the engineers, shared a few jokes, then got ready to go. It was a bittersweet moment for all of them. The past two weeks had been a welcome distraction from the rather lonely isolation both groups would soon be returning to.

Half an hour later, Andre and Vadim were almost ready for launch.

"Jackie, we're coming home," Andre said over the radio.

"About time," she replied. She had been in touch with them for their entire stay.

"How's the food supply?"

"We still have a week or two left. Look, we've been going through all the resupply records. Something... something doesn't add up. It looks like an oversight, but how? How could they overlook how much
food
we have? It's... it's just too big of a mistake."

Vadim and Andre looked curiously at each other. "Are you thinking it happened for some other reason?" Vadim asked.

"I don't know. There's no record of a rescinded order or any evidence that it was changed. But there were way too many people looking at this. It gets even weirder. We obviously would have noticed last month that our food was low and the resupply would have arrived in plenty of time. So, if it was on purpose... Did they know there would never be a resupply?"

"Don't you think you might be jumping to conclusions?" Andre suggested.

"Yeah, maybe. Whatever the case, we'll talk about this once you get back. Keep in touch and stay safe. Try not to crash this time, please?"

"We won't," Vadim answered.

"Let's do this," Andre said.

The two men began the final preparations for launch, triple-checking everything. Once they were done, Vadim gave the command to ignite the rockets. The pod successfully left the moon's surface.

"I think I'll miss the moon," Andre said.

"Really? I hated the coffee," Vadim remarked.

Andre laughed and eased back in his seat. He wanted to be comfortable. It would be another long trip back to the International Space Station.

Chapter 43

Jacksonville - October 13, 2072

"Ladies and gentleman, I present to you, the Council of New Jacksonville."

The assembled crowd at Tomas Cortez Memorial High School's football field gave courteous applause after Alice's announcement. It was directed at the eleven others standing on the field, among them Kelsey, Valdez, Wesley, and four members from Jacksonville's previous city council. They had been quickly selected based on community roles and desire to lead. Alice had pushed for the council to be formed as fast as possible, regardless of how much public support it received. She felt it was important for some kind of government presence, regardless of legitimacy. Those on the council had agreed. Elections were promised as soon as a realistic election system could be established, though many wondered if that would ever be possible.

In the haste of forming the council, little else had been established to supplement its daily function. They still hadn't decided on an official location to house meetings, hadn't determined protocol for policy decisions beyond mere popular vote, hadn't established any type of constitution for New Jacksonville, hadn't established how policies would be enforced, and had no clear plan for notifying the population about their decisions. They weren't even clear on how they would answer to President Gresson. Their presentation on the field today was merely an exercise in peace-keeping. The hope was that an appearance like this would give the citizens of New Jacksonville, a name that was not yet official, optimism about the future and a reason to hold off any in-fighting. The council would work out the details later.

The crowd that had gathered was cautiously excited. Most cared little for who was in charge or how they got there. At the moment, they cared more about guarantees for food, water, protection, and housing for the tens of thousands of people now crowding in the area the marines had previously defined as the "safe zone" the wall-in-progress would eventually surround. It had been suggested that the zone be extended south for more room, but more area to defend meant more difficulty defending it, especially with a complete lack of vehicles and communication equipment.

Alice continued her presentation, giving an introduction of each member of the council. She outlined several promises from the council and discussed what the people of New Jacksonville could expect in the future. She concluded with a call for support and a plea to spread the word. By the end of her presentation, she was exhausted. She had been standing for the speech and now needed to return to her wheelchair. The wound in her chest was beginning to sting.

Applause and a few cheers accompanied her as she walked off the field. Michael helped wheel her around the high school and to the front of the building, where she met with her children, as well as Lash, Jake, Sean, Lucas, and Gresson.

"I am impressed, Alice. This is quite a feat," Gresson said. The others acknowledged their agreement.

"Thank you, but Kelsey is the reason this happened so fast. She knows the people of this city well and knows which strings to pull, even in all this chaos."

"Regardless, it was you who started this. We should celebrate," Michael said.

"Celebrate? How?" Marie asked.

"I've got the perfect thing," Sean said.

They followed him back to Holiday Street. He went inside his house and came out with a brown bag. Its contents made a clinking glass sound.

"And that is...?" Lash asked.

"You'll see," Sean said.

They followed him for a few more minutes until they arrived at the shore. They walked out onto a pier with the sunset over Jacksonville behind them and the river flowing in front of them.

"Ta da," Sean said, pulled out two bottles of wine, a bottle-opener, and a few glasses. "Found these in our basement the other day. Thought I'd keep it for a surprise."

"Perfect," Alice said with a smile.
It's been too long
, she thought.

They all sat down on the pier.

"What kind is it?" Lash asked. "Though, I'll warn you, I don't know much about wine."

"Err... It's a 2012 and 2014 Fiano," Sean answered.

"Is that good?" Lash asked.

"It's certainly worth drinking," Alice said, popping open the 2012. "Let's save the other one."

Sean nodded and put the 2014 back into the bag. For the next hour, the group sat together and sipped, watching the sun fade. They shared stories and told jokes. It was a rare care-free moment.

"... So, I was talking to somebody today and turns out cutie Reginald, the messiah of the Sunrise Gang, is actually Q. T. Reginald," Jake shared. "Q. T., as in letters. Which, at first I thought was better. But then I found out Q. T. stands for Quinn Tarantino or something."