Darkness on a Pale Blue Stone (6 page)

"We can't think like that. I'm sure they've found places to hold up. Heck, I'm sure Malcolm's already at work rebuilding the whole damn city."

They both laughed quietly. Alice said, "I'll bet he's made himself the new mayor, promising to have the lights back on by the end of his term." They laughed again.

Michael put his hand on the side Alice's face and said, "I love you." He gave her a peck on the forehead.

She smiled and said, "I love you too."

The couple pulled each other close and fell asleep.

In the other bed beside them lay Marie. Her eyes were still wide open, staring into the darkness. She couldn't hear what her parents had been saying beside her, but their voices gave her some comfort.

She thought about her friends. They were her world. For her, there could be nothing without them. And yet, she was sure she would never see any of them again. The thought brought tears to her eyes.
I hate this! I just want to go home!
she shouted in her head.

Her thoughts switched to her current companions. The last people she wanted to spend the end of the world with was her family. At least, that's what she had always thought. But as much as she was inclined to hate being with them, it was obvious to her that they were the only ones who would be looking out for her now. This new world was a frightening place. It had begun with explosions, darkness, and a gun barrel aimed at her head. But the scenes she had witnessed later that night were what haunted her the most. Death had never been so real for Marie, and it seemed to be everywhere. Even as they had traveled rather peacefully today, death and despair seemed to stalk them and echo across the eerily silent new world. There was no safe place, it seemed. No security except by her family's side.

She contemplated the other two men who were in their group. Gresson, who had first greeted her family with his gun and demanded that they leave their home, still scared her. He had only helped them since the events of that night, but she still could not trust him. Sean, however, seemed pleasant enough. There was something about his naive optimism that calmed her.

As she considered these things, her eyes began to close from exhaustion and her mind exchanged frightened conscious thoughts for dark dreams.

On the couch nearby lay her brother. Adam was sitting up, his back against an arm of the couch. He was awake, contemplating the events of the last two days.

Though part of him longed to be back home with his friends and his exhilarating work at Gimbal, Adam had already accepted the new world around him. He was determined to find out what was happening and to help those he knew were in need. He was content with this new role for his life, in fact he embraced it. There was little excitement for what lay ahead, but he was prepared to accept it.

He began to think of what might be necessary to protect his family at the end of this journey. No part of him trusted Gresson and Adam fully expected for them all to be discarded once the man had what he wanted.
We'll need something for protection,
he thought. He needed an practical objective for survival, and for now, securing a weapon was that objective. He would make sure his family would survive at all costs.

Content with his current purpose, Adam laid down on the couch and attempted to fall asleep.

In front of the couch and at the foot of Marie's bed lay Sean. His sleep schedule had yet to adjust to early mornings and nights. Being alone in his room in front of his computer long past midnight had been his routine for years.

Sean had never been one with many friends. His social skills had only developed enough for him to get by. He was awkward, shy, and a bit clumsy, all characteristics not valued in the society that had surrounded him. His life's aspirations were lacking. Working at the supermarket had only served to pay his bills. The management position had only become his due to a lack of other applicants. While he had always been a fairly happy man, he did not miss his previous life in the slightest. This journey with others, whom he already considered friends, was to him an opportunity to become someone better. It was a long-awaited chance at a fresh start. He drifted to sleep with a smile on his face and began to dream about his upcoming adventures.

Next to Sean, at the foot of Michael and Alice's bed, lay Gresson. He was hardly tired and simply thought to himself about the others in the room.

They had surprised him. They were more self-reliant than he had expected. Far more mentally prepared for this apparent apocalypse. He had planned to be herding them like sheep. Yet they seemed to have a strength of their own. A strength they might need if they wished to survive.

 Perhaps keeping them safe
is
the right thing to do,
he thought.
Killing them cannot be the solution.

Chapter 8

Trenton - August 5, 2072

The next morning, the sun shined brightly through the window of the hotel room. No one was too anxious to wake up, but Gresson forced himself to begin packing his things. The light allowed him to see much more of the room than had been possible the night before. A few burnt out lights and a destroyed entertainment display were the only things out of place in an otherwise typical hotel room.

Everyone else eventually followed his example and prepared for the day. They took turns using the bathroom, using lighters to see. There was no running water, but having a relatively clean toilet, even a non-working one, would soon become a novelty.

Once everyone was ready, the group left the hotel and ventured back onto the New Jersey Turnpike. Sean handed Gresson a map and said, "I picked this up in the hotel lobby. Figure it can't hurt."

Gresson appeared mildly appreciative. A paper map was an uncommon find these days. He gave it a look, then said, "We should make it past Cherry Hill by tonight."

The highway was much busier today. Crowds of people were walking in all directions, many moving without any sense of urgency or purpose as they weaved among the abandoned cars. Throughout the day, it only became more crowded on the road, with many of the travelers coming from nearby Philadelphia. By noon, the group was moving slowly to match the pace of those surrounding them.

Frustrated, Gresson led them off the road for lunch. They sat on a grassy area and got out the food from their packs.

As they began to eat, Sean asked Gresson, "So what's your story? We've been traveling with you for two days now. I think we deserve a few answers, right?"

Gresson sighed, ran his hand through his black hair, and said, "Alright. But I still cannot answer everything you ask."

"Why?" Alice asked.

"There... are rules. And until it is decided otherwise, I will not break them."

"Rules? Who the hell is giving the President of the United States rules?" Sean asked incredulously. Before Gresson could answer, Sean said, "Wait. Are you a double? Or are you actually Alexander Gresson? The former President? The President who was shot and killed two years ago?"

Gresson nodded and replied, "That is me, but obviously I was not killed."

"How did you survive that? Were you really ever shot?" Michael asked.

"I was shot. And I survived. I simply chose not to return afterwards."

Michael gave a perplexed look and said, "'Chose not to return'? What the hell does that mean?"

Gresson replied matter-of-factly, "It means exactly what it sounds like. The group I am with, the group that makes these 'rules,' no longer needed me as president. So the assassination served as a convenient way for me to leave office. It was not part of our plan, but..."

"Wait, wait, wait. What is this group? The Illuminati or something?" Sean asked.

Shaking his head, Gresson said, "I assure you, this group does not exist in any of your history or folklore. We exist for the sole reason of protecting humanity from the events that began two days ago. I cannot say anything more."

"Are we going to meet them?" Alice asked.

Michael anxiously interrupted, "Hold on, you said the 'events that
began
.' What do you mean by that? What's going to happen next?"

"I do not know. What I do know is that things could get much worse unless my people possess Project Blackout."

"But you knew exactly when everything would start. How could you
not
know what's coming next? I mean, you told me the time, right to the minute!" Sean exclaimed.

"Yes, but that's all I knew. Everything from that point on is uncertain."

The group ate silently for the next few minutes. When they had finished, they made their way back to the highway. It was upon returning that a few on the highway recognized Gresson.

"Hey, you look a hell of a lot like President Gresson," one man commented. This drew the attention of others, who either gasped or remarked in agreement.

"I am President Gresson. My death was... exaggerated," Gresson kindly replied. The group was surprised by his honesty, and his sudden diplomatic tone. "My friends and I need to reach our destination as quickly as possible. Would you all be so kind as to let us move though?"

"Of course!" one man yelled, and others around him began to make a hole in the crowd.

The group was now able to pick up their pace, walking through the crowd which now clapped, cheered, cried out "It's President Gresson!", and asked a plethora of questions about what was going on. In response to one question of "What should we do?", Gresson urged them to head south.

For the next few miles, Gresson was in full presidential stride. This almost disturbed Sean and the Cases, who had grown used to his indifference and aggression. Their leader seemed a different man entirely. Gresson repeatedly raised a hand to the crowd, gave short messages of hope, and even shook a few hands. The turnpike had become a rally for the once-thought-dead former president.

By the time the group arrived at Cherry Hill, New Jersey, the highway had become packed with people either attempting to travel or to see the messianic figure that Gresson had become in the course of one hour. The only people moving much at all were Gresson and his 5 followers. The sun was setting and once the six of them saw a ramp, they made their way off the packed highway. Many followed.

There was a park not far from the highway where the group eventually arrived. The huge crowd surrounding them pleaded for Gresson to say something. Gresson told the crowd he would speak soon as he brought the group to a halt.

"There's little point in seeking shelter tonight," Gresson said as he looked up at the cloudless night sky. With no artificial light cluttering the sky, it was filled with bright stars, beautifully vivid for everyone gathered in the park.

The group prepared a fire, as did many others across the park. One giant bonfire was starting near the middle of the crowd of hundreds. Chants all around began to call for a speech, enthralled in the moment. The perceived impossibility of Gresson's return from the dead was overshadowed by the people's desperation for hope.

Gresson told Sean and the Cases he would return and he made his way to the bonfire. Cheers erupted from all directions. With his back against the flames, Gresson paced around the fire to address everyone in the park with his booming voice.

"My fellow Americans!" he began. Applause and cheers bellowed from the audience. Many curious wanderers continued to flood the park. Once the ovation died down, Gresson continued.

"I know many of you are wondering how it is that I am among you tonight. While I cannot give you much of an answer right now, I can say that I am certainly alive and well, and doing everything I can to aid you all in these dark times." Thunderous cheers drowned out the few boos of those more anxious for answers than rhetoric.

"Our nation has been brought to its knees. The technology that has built us up to the pinnacle of our evolution has been torn from under us. Cities are burning, society is collapsing, and people are lost. But, I urge you, do not give up hope! For whatever is burnt can be replaced. Whatever is collapsed can be rebuilt. And whatever is lost, is destined to be found again!" Gresson paused as cheers rose up.

"Many things may be gone today, but there is one thing far more important that is still with us. It is what makes us who we are. Not just as workers and employers... fathers and mothers... sons and daughters... friends and strangers! Not even what makes us Americans! It is what makes us
human beings!
It is our human spirit that will see us through tonight and
every night after that!
" Another pause for cheers. The inspired crowd now clustered around the bonfire.

"Now more than ever we must recognize this human spirit. We must come together as one. Only then will we survive. And we
must
survive!" Gresson continued as cheers and shouts grew all around him. "We must survive, not just for ourselves, but for our families, for our friends, for our nation, and
for
...
our
...
species
!" The sounds of those in the park could now be heard for miles.

Gresson had worked up a furious pace around the bonfire. For his final line, he planted his feet, raised a fist into the air, and quoted a slogan from his presidential campaign. "'For the future is now our's for the taking!' Goodnight!" Few beyond the closest to him could hear his final words over the crowd, but as he left the bonfire, it became clear that his short speech was over. Applause joined in with the deafening cheers.

Gresson shuddered as he retreated through the crowd. He had almost forgotten the rush of campaigning. It was the euphoria that was felt when hundreds or even thousands of people clung to one's every word. Throughout his campaigning and short term as president, he had countlessly faced huge congregations of citizens desperate to receive his message. It was the kind of power that could easily corrupt and make a person forget everything else. But Gresson had not forgotten anything. In truth, the blind devotion his speeches could trigger was disgusting to him. The idea that charisma, not logic or reason, dictated the opinions and actions of those who heard disturbed him deeply. He had, a long time ago, seen first hand the extent to which that such power could control, and inevitably destroy. No, he had not forgotten. Even tonight, surrounded by adoring fans, he was firmly incapable of forgetting his true purpose.