Dream Sky (22 page)

As he started walking toward them, a teenage girl rose out of her chair. “Is Martina with you?”

Ben jammed to a halt, his breath gone. “Martina?”

The girl took a few steps toward him. “You’re Ben, Martina’s boyfriend, right? I remember you.”

“From where?”

“Cryer’s Corner. You…you were there with us.”

Cryer’s Corner?
That was where he’d met Martina, where they had both been exposed to the—

He took a hard look at the girl. “You were on the softball team with her.”

“Yeah. I’m Jilly.”

“Right. Jilly. I remember.”

Out of habit, he held out his hand to shake, but instead of taking it, Jilly threw her arms around his neck.

“You’re alive! She said you would be!”

He pushed her back. “Why did you think she’d be with me? Isn’t she here?”

“No, of course not,” Jilly said, looking confused. “She went looking for you. Didn’t she find you? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“I haven’t seen her since before the flu hit.”

“Oh,” Jilly said, concern creeping into her voice. “But…oh, no.”

“Do you know where she went to look?” he asked.

“She didn’t say. I assumed she was going up north. That’s where you’re from, right?”

He could feel the blood draining from his face, as he realized they must have crossed paths and missed each other. She was still out there somewhere, looking for him. He should have never come here. He should have known she’d look until she found him.

“When did you see her last?” he asked.

“New Year’s Eve.”

Five days ago. Five whole days!

Someone—Jilly probably, but in his daze he wasn’t sure—led him to the seating area and eased him into one of the chairs. He didn’t know how long he was lost in thought, but when he finally regained some sense of his surroundings, he saw that everyone was gathered around, watching him.

“You all right?” a man of about forty said. “You’re not going to throw up or anything, are you?”

“No,” Ben said, his voice low. “I’m not going to throw up.”

Jilly knelt next to him and put a hand on his arm. “I’m sure she’s all right. Martina’s pretty good at taking care of herself.”

“But she’s still out there. How am I ever going to find her?”

“You don’t have to. She’ll come here eventually. That’s what she said she’d do after she found you. When she doesn’t, she and the others will probably show up.”

“Others?”

“Noreen and Riley and Craig went with her.”

Ben didn’t know who Riley or Craig were, but he knew Noreen. She was one of Martina’s best friends. At least Martina wasn’t out there alone.

All right
, he told himself,
she’ll be okay. Jilly’s right. Martina can take care of herself.

His panic subsiding a bit, he allowed himself to take a good look at the others in the room. “I recognize some of you from the softball team,” he said, “but the rest of you weren’t at Cryer’s Corner.”

“No,” a woman said. “I’m from Sage Springs. So’s AJ over there.” She nodded toward another woman.

“I’m from Victorville,” said the man who’d asked if Ben would throw up. “In fact, we’re all from the high desert.”

“You’re all from the desert?” Ben said. “Nowhere else?”

“Well, you’re not,” Jilly said.

“You’re right. I’m not.” Ben fell silent for a moment before it hit him. “But I was there during the first outbreak. I caught the flu before. So did you girls.” He looked at those who hadn’t been at Cryer’s Corner. “Did you all get it, too, last spring? You were all sick?”

Nods and a few uh-huhs.

Everyone.

Holy shit.
“Were there others?”

“What do you mean, others?” another man asked.

“In here with you guys when you were first brought in,” Ben said.

One of Martina’s old teammates snorted a laugh. “This place wasn’t here before us. One morning there was nothing but grass, and by the end of the day, our new home. That evening they moved us all in.”

“And no one else,” he said.

“No one,” Jilly said.

Ben did not like where this was going. “Did any of you tell them that you had the flu before?”

Most of the people who hadn’t been on the Burroughs High School softball team answered yes.

“We didn’t,” Jilly said. “We were afraid they wouldn’t give us the vaccine if they knew.”

“Apparently they figured it out anyway,” Ben said. “You all had your blood tested, right?”

They all had.

“I don’t understand why the UN would put us by ourselves,” a girl said.

“Maybe so they can use our blood to make more vaccine,” someone suggested.

One of the members of Martina’s softball team—Valerie, if Ben remembered correctly—rolled her eyes and said, “They already
have
a vaccine, remember? That’s why we came.”

“If you ask me, these people aren’t with the UN,” a ponytailed girl said.

“What makes you say that?” Ben asked. Though he’d been thinking the same thing, he hadn’t been here as long as the others so he’d thought he might be overreacting.

“Well, for starters, that message we saw on TV said that everyone who showed up would get the vaccine. When we were still in the other area, not one of the people in there had been given it.”

Ben said, “The people I talked to who are in there right now told me there was a two-day waiting period, and then after you were inoculated, you were sent to a safe zone where everyone’s being gathered.”

“Maybe,” the ponytailed girl said. “But we all know how the guards look at us. They pretty much act like we’re cattle. If this was really some kind of UN humanitarian operation, they’d treat us a hell of a lot better, no matter how bad things have become.” She smirked. “I’ll tell you something else. If the UN was really running things, there’d be a whole lot more problems, don’t you think?”

“Problems?” Jilly said.

“Sure. Operation this size, presumably worldwide, pulled together a matter of days after the outbreak of all outbreaks, would be bursting with screwups. They couldn’t avoid it. The world is falling apart. There would at least be some chaos. But we arrived the first day this place opened, and it’s been operating like they’ve been doing this for years.”

“The rest of you feel the same?” Ben asked.

“I hadn’t thought about it that way, but Ruby’s right,” Jilly said. “Things have been too well organized.”

“You guys are overthinking things,” one of the men said. “If you’re looking for problems, I’d bet there are plenty. We just haven’t seen them.”

A few of the older adults mumbled agreement.

“Besides,” the guy said, “if they’re not UN, who are they?”

No one had an answer for that.

Soon most everyone wandered off to bed, leaving only Ben and the girls from Ridgecrest still awake.

Ben asked them what had happened after the virus was released, and how they got there. As the girls talked, they all began hearing snores and deep breathing from the beds.

Ruby was in the middle of describing the day they left Ridgecrest when she shot a look back at the bunks, leaned forward, and whispered, “I think we should get out of here.”

“Oh, really?” Valerie said. “And how do you expect us to do that? If you haven’t noticed, they’ve got us locked up tight.”

Ben broke the silence that followed. “Actually, there is one potential weak point.”

“And what would that be?” Valerie asked.

“This holding area is built near the center-field wall. The gap between the gate and the wall is no more than twenty feet, and the enclosure fence blocks some of the stadium lights back there. So it’s darker than the rest of the stadium.”

“And what good is that supposed to do us?”

 “It also blocks the view of most of the guards.”

“You’re sure?” Jilly asked.

“Pretty sure.”

“All right, smart guy, two problems,” Valerie, Miss Negativity, said. “So how do we get on the other side of the fence, and if we do, what happens then? Correct me if I’m wrong, they may not see us at first, but they’ll see us for sure if climb over the outfield wall.”

“Jesus, Valerie, do you expect all the answers right off the bat?” Jilly said, glaring at the girl. “Yeah, those
are
problems, but it’s at least worth thinking about, right? Unless you want to just sit here and see what happens.”

Valerie’s cheeks reddened as her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that. I’m in charge here. I decide what we do.”

The other girls started shifting uncomfortably in their chairs.

“Excuse me?” Jilly said. “I don’t recall you being appointed dictator.”

“You are a hair’s width from crossing the line.”

“That’s too bad. I was hoping I’d already jumped over it. Want to know what I really think?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I think we should have all gone with Martina. I think it was a mistake to follow you here.”

Valerie jumped out of her chair, looking as if she wanted to launch herself at Jilly.

Ben rose quickly to his feet. “Whoa. Let’s all calm down. We’re just talking here.”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re not part of this,” Valerie said, then looked at the others. “This kind of bullshit fantasy talk isn’t going to get us anywhere, so I think it’s time we all got some sleep.”

She headed down the aisle toward one of the bunks near the door. No one moved for several seconds, then the tall blonde girl mumbled, “Good night,” and headed off for bed. Slowly, the others did the same, until the only ones left were Ben, Jilly, and Ruby.

“What was that all about?” Ben whispered.

“If you weren’t Martina’s boyfriend, I think she would have been more open to the idea,” Ruby said, her voice as low as his.

“What does Martina have to do with it?”

“It’s stupid,” Jilly said. “Not even worth talking about. Let’s just say they’ve been butting heads for a very long time.”

“To hell with her,” Ruby said. She looked at Ben. “I say we figure out a way for us to escape. The others will come.”

“Count me in, too,” Jilly said.

Ben smiled. “I don’t think we have to figure anything out.”

“What do you mean?” Ruby asked.

“Didn’t you guys ever watch the Dodgers play?”

Jilly shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Well, I watched them every time the Giants were down here,” he said.

“Oh, wonderful. A Giants fan,” Rudy said, feigning disgust.

“You should be happy you have a Giants fan here because I happen to know a little fact about the part of the center-field wall right behind us.”

“And what’s that?” Ruby asked.

“It swings open.”

19

10:56 PM

O
MEGA THREE TOOK
a
drag on his cigarette as he began another three-sixty scan of the town.

It wasn’t a large place, so he could see pretty much everything from his post on the roof of the three-story school. Power to the town had been out for nearly two weeks now, but unlike other places in the world, this had not been due to system failure or emergency shutdown. The electricity here had been intentionally terminated within minutes after the Implementation Day go signal was received. The purpose had been twofold: first, killing the lights made it possible for those on sentry duty to use night-vision gear after sunset, greatly decreasing the chances of missing unwanted visitors; and second, cutting the power ensured the town’s native population would die faster.

It had been six days since the last resident was seen on the snowy streets. A thorough check three days later confirmed no one remained alive—an assignment Omega Three was glad he hadn’t drawn.

The town tonight was as quiet as it had been on all the other nights. The only signs of life he’d picked up were those of Omega One, Two, and Four, all of whom were at their assigned positions.

“Omega team, this is Tau One.” The earpiece of Omega Three’s comm gear was so high quality, it almost sounded like Tau One was standing right next to him.

“Tau One, this is Omega One,” the Omega team leader replied. “Go ahead.”

“Tau team deploying now.”

“Copy, Tau One.”

Omega Three turned his attention toward the northern edge of town, and immediately spotted the glowing green blobs of the four-man Tau team. He followed its progress, and watched as every few blocks one member would peel off onto a different road. The last man headed straight for the school. Omega Three tracked him until he entered the building.

One minute later, at exactly fifteen seconds before eleven p.m., the roof door opened and the Tau team member stepped out.

When the man reached the lookout position, he said, “Tau Two reporting. You’re relieved.”

Omega Three stepped back and pulled the goggles from his eyes. “Thank you. All quiet. Have a good evening.”

As Tau Two moved into place, Omega Three headed for the door.

Retracing the path the relief crew had taken, he met up with the other members of Omega team. Like always, no one said a word as they walked out of town, passed the dead-end barrier that marked the end of the road, and into the snow-covered field. Sitting in the center of the clearing was a five-by-four-foot, concrete-sided building. To the casual observer, it looked like nothing more than a pumping station or perhaps a utility hut. It had a single door and no windows, and was painted a light shade of gray.

What the casual observer would not notice, even if he or she had moved in for a closer examination, were the micro cameras fitted into the eaves on all sides. They looked like nothing more than holes where screws were embedded.

And while there was a dead-bolt key slot on the door, it was only for show. The real lock was triggered by those on the inside.

Omega team trudged across the field to the building and stopped five feet in front of the door, as they’d been trained to do. For several seconds nothing happened, and then there was a faint click.

Omega One grabbed the handle of the door and pulled it open. One by one they filed inside the twenty-square-foot room, the last, Omega Four, securing the door behind him.

There were no pipes on the walls, no electrical junction boxes, no pumps, no transformers, no telecommunications switches. There were simply a light in the ceiling that came on when the door was closed, and a round metal cover on the floor.