Humanity Gone: Facade of Order (8 page)

             
I walk down the hall to our bedroom. Carter is already changed and lying on his back while staring at the ceiling. I curl up beside him and put my arm over his chest.

             
“Everything okay?” I ask.

             
“Yea. Fine. Goodnight.”

             
His words aren't as comforting as I hoped. I close my eyes and try to sleep. I fade away a few times and when I open my eyes he is still awake staring at the ceiling. He is obviously thinking about something.

             
When I wake up again at around four, he is already gone.

             
Thinking about her...? I hold back tears. What else could it be? That whole family of them at the cabin is always in the back of his mind. Even when we thought they were all probably dead, I still worried that he cared about them more than me. I never knew Jon, but Carter feels like he has to take his place.

             
Carter must have made him a promise.

             
Carter never breaks his promises, and I'm afraid this one may tear us apart.

Chapter 10: Jonatho
n
             

             
We have managed well this winter, and better than I ever imagined. Christmas put a new hope in all of us that everything would be okay, but yesterday we found a new problem and one that I wasn't expecting. The twins are growing, and Jo's clothes really are not cutting it so much anymore. They needed their own clothing. Warm clothing.

             
Carter and I agreed yesterday to take the SUV and try to find a nearby house or department store that would have clothes. We've had a run of warm days and the snow is not too thick. Still, it is only February, and summer is a far way off.

             
I pull my coat onto my arms. I considered taking the revolver, but I decided to leave it with Jo. Leaving her went against everything that my gut screamed at me. I tossed all night with the idea of leaving her and the twins. Yet, I have seen her take down enough deer. If anyone gets anywhere near the cabin, she will be okay. Caitlyn wanted the bow so she could help. I told her it would be better if she just hid if trouble came. She has become a tough little girl, but I don't want her to be ready to take someone's life anytime soon. Leave that to me. She stormed away after that response.

             
Carter is at the door. He adjusts his pistol in the gun belt he wears at the hips. I still didn't completely trust Carter after these months, but I trust his ability to stop anyone in our way. Sometimes, I really wonder how he acquired that police belt.

             
“Be careful,” Sara yells as she runs up to me and throws her arms around my waist. I can't help but smile and rub her head. “Both of you be careful.”

             
“We'll be fine. It won't be more than a couple of hours.” I assure her.

             
“Yea, I will take care of him.” Carter tells Sara. I turn to Jo.

             
“Keep the door locked, and if anyone else comes to this door, don't ask questions. You have the rifle and the shotgun in the corner. Keep the revolver in your pocket.”

             
“We will be fine too. Get going before it gets too late.”

             
Carter and I are soon out the door and headed to the SUV. We scraped the ice and snow off it before a mini-muffin-less breakfast. I get in the driver's side and give the ignition a turn. It takes a few presses of the accelerator, but it roars to life. We haven't used the SUV in over a month. I check the dashboard; there still is a good bit of gas left in the tank.

             
We get through the front gate at the ranger's trailer and are on the highway. There's an inch or two of snow on the road, but the SUV's tires don't even slip.

             
“If I remember correctly, there are a few neighborhoods off the highway nearby. We can search those houses. Maybe we will get lucky.” Carter merely nods. We drive along for about another twenty minutes before a group of houses comes into view. The entire neighborhood looks abandoned.

             
We reach a neighborhood and roll up into the first house. As I slam the car door shut, I pull gloves onto my hands and grab the bow from the back seat. Ever since I became good with the bow, I promised myself that I would never use a gun again unless I had no other choice. Hopefully, that never happens.

             
As we walk up to the front door, our breath becomes even more visible in the cold air. The snow comes up to our knees in some spots as we tread through the front lawns. Carter reaches the door and knocks. It seems unlikely, but maybe someone is home...

             
No answer. He knocks again. After a few moments, he reaches down and twists the doorknob. It's locked.

             
“Now what?” Carter says.

             
“We kick it in?” I suggest.

             
“Think we are strong enough?”

             
“They did it on TV all the time.” Carter and I take a step back. I put the bow over my shoulder, and Carter holsters his gun.

             
“Okay. One... two... three!” On three we both kick the door at nearly the same time. The door swings open and slams into the wall with a loud thud as we stumble into the cold room. Carter nearly falls over, but I grab his shoulder to balance him.

             
“Well, I didn't think it would be that easy.” I quip. We both pull up our weapons and begin our walk through the house. A few family photos show that no one in the house was the twin's age. I go through the kitchen, but the shelves are completely bare. We move onto the next house.

             
Oddly enough, this door is unlocked. We step inside and scan the room. Judging by the picture, a woman and her eight cats lived here. Each of us takes a different level of the house and find it to be deserted. Where the hell were the cats?

             
We kick in the door to the third house on the street. It took three kicks this time. We split up on the first level and search. I pace through the kitchen. There are two canned goods in the pantry bottom that I'm not too proud to throw in my bag. We need all we can get.

             
“Jon, over here,” Carter shouts from the other room. I walk over. Along the wall is a family portrait with a mom, dad, and two girls that look within a few years of each other. They look about the same age as the twins - maybe just a little older.

             
“Jackpot.” I say.

             
We make our way to the stairs and work our way up. Again, we spread out and take different rooms. I nudge open one door with my foot. The parent's bedroom. I move onto the next. It is one of the daughter's bedrooms. After setting my bow on the bed, I walk to the closet and place my fingers on the closet door.

             
I hesitate. I feel like a creep or something. Something awful who steals clothing from little girls. It doesn't matter. My three girls are all that matter, and whoever this girl may be, does not. Things aren't like they used to be. I exhale and swing open the closet. I rummage through and put several sweaters and pants in my backpack. I also toss in a few things that I once saw Jo wear that might be considered “cute.” That will make Sara happy. I press it all in and barely can get the zipper closed.

             
I grab my bag and bow and move on to the room Carter went into. The door is open slightly, and I push it open the rest of the way.

             
“Carter. We lucked out. What did...?” I begin to say.

             
I drop the bag and the bow to the hardwood floor. Carter is in the corner with his knees in his chest. His eyes are wide and it looks like he wants to cry. His eyes motion towards the bed. I turn and on the bed are the two girls. They are beneath the blanket, and their heads rest on the pillow facing up. The larger one seems to have her arms around the smaller one's shoulder tightly. Their faces are blue.

             
They are dead. Frozen.

             
They didn't have people to take care of them. When it got really cold here a few weeks ago they must have frozen to death. I go over to Carter and kneel in front of him.

             
I remember when I was in a corner with my knees to my chest. I take a deep breath.

             
“Come on; we have to keep going.” I place a hand on his shoulder. “This is happening all over. There's nothing we can do.”

             
'”Let's just go,” he whispers. I understand this, but I can't take this babble from him right now. Sure this is awful, but we aren't finished with what we came here to do.

             
“This is what we need. I'm gonna go through her closet.” Carter's eyes widen when I say this.

             
“Man, how... how can you... you be so cold to this?” he asks. “They are right there.”

             
I don't know. I just am. This is sad, but it's my girls that I worry about. Yes, this should bother me more... I feel that in my gut. A few months ago, this would have been very different.

             
“Go in the hall. It'll only take a minute.” I help Carter up and he goes to the hall with my full bag in hand. I go back with his hiking pack and take similar articles from the closet and drawers. I go to leave, but I take a second and walk to the bed. I look down at both their faces.

             
Please Jon. Feel something. Cry. Something.

             
Nothing. I reach with my hand to the covers and pull it over their heads. I would pray if I believed in God anymore.

             
I meet Carter in the hall and hand him the pack.

             
“This is going to really help the twins.” I try to encourage him. Carter nods.             

             
We get back outside and head towards the SUV. I grab Carter by the shoulder and stop him. He turns to me with a startled look.

             
“You okay now?” I ask.

             
“It's just, this is happening all over the country. We forget about the country in our cozy little cabin. Children are dying, and we are looting their houses? How many more dead little girls are we going to see? We should be doing something to help those still out there. Anything.” Tears drop from his eyes. Carter is tough. I never imagined I would see him cry.

             
“It's ugly; I know. But I know three girls I will not let this happen to. “I pause for a moment and ponder my own limitations as one person. This is a talk I have been meaning to have with Carter. “I don't know what might happen today or tomorrow, but if something happens to me, you have to promise to take care of them. Take care of Jo. She needs to come before anything else in this world. Always put their lives before our own.” Carter looks at me oddly for a moment and then nods.

             
Those two little girls upstairs come to mind. I will go to hell before that happens, and I need to know that someone will follow me to hell to take care of them. Of Jo.

             
“Jon, man. I don't know why you would say this, but I promise. For as long as I am able, I will keep them safe. I will keep Jocelyn safe. I swear. You know she means a lot to me. You too man. We are a family. We will always be family.” I nod in response and walk past him.

             
He better mean all of that because if he forgets it, I will kill him. The girls, my family, come first.

Chapter 11: Caitlyn

              Finally, I got the break I needed.

             
Yesterday, I ran into a man and woman, a pair of wanderers on the road. Occasionally, I would stumble upon these people trying to make a place in broken America. Usually I run from anyone along the path, but the couple looked harmless and did not appear to have any guns as I walked past them along an old road. Still, my eyes continually checked their hands as they got closer. They were both dressed in dirtied clothes and carried bags slung over their shoulder. Both were starved and seemed to be walking blindly. I kept an eye on them and only nodded slightly when the woman gave me a weak smile. Then she stopped and squinted at me.

             
“Hello miss... wait... do we know you from somewhere?” she asked. I did not know them, and I nearly ignored her. Then, my eyes widened, and instantly I ran and sprung upon her with Walt's blade to her throat. She fell to her back, and I squatted over her chest, and brought my eyes close to hers. She screamed to the man. I turned my head just as the bearded man prepared to a throw a fist. I swore at him to back away. He listened.

             
“Where have you seen my face before,” I yelled.

             
“I... I don't know. I think I was mistaken...” she rambled out of her mouth. I didn't believe her.

             
“Shut up and tell me. Or I swear to God...”

             
“I don't remember...”

             
“Then think!”

             
She stared into my face for a second and gathered her thoughts. She glanced quickly at the man and I moved the blade closer. A drop of blood ran down her neck as she gasped.

             
“Around Washington. I thought I saw you there.”

             
Washington was the new capital that had been developed by those military thugs while I lived in the woods. I had heard about it from others who I met in the territory these past few years. I considered going there several times to look for Sara, but I was told few prisoners were sent there. In addition, security there was rumored to be nearly an entire army. You would have to be crazy to try to stand up to that. Maybe, Sara was there.

             
“Where was I?” I yelled again.

             
“I don't remember...”

             
“Was I working - a slave of some kind?”

             
“Um...yes. Yes that must be it.”

             
“Where was I then?”

             
“Workers are moved all over. You are... um here now... but you could have been or be anywhere really. They don't want workers to become too familiar... they want to prevent another rebellion. We escaped from the capital when we learned what they were doing to people. You... could have been sent anywhere since then.”

             
I loosened my grip on her blouse. The off-white collar was stained with a dot of red. I suddenly felt guilty.

             
I needed to keep it together. Those people were innocent.

             
I lifted her to her feet and push her towards the man. My mouth couldn't find the words as I backed farther away from them. I sheathed the knife in my belt and grabbed my bare left arm with my right hand. I looked at the ground - embarrassed for the first time in years. Hurting that woman made me feel... awful.

             
Maybe I wasn't completely an animal yet.

             
“I'm... I'm looking for my twin sister. They took her. She probably is looking for me, too. If you know anything else...”

             
The man finally joined in.

             
“You think we would tell you anything after-” the woman grabbed his hand and looked at me. Her eyes shook with pity. I must have looked pathetic.

             
“There's a worker examination point up that way about a two days walk. They bring the workers there every year or so to inspect and redistribute. Sometimes prisoners are taken through the city to the station. They might have some answers there. They keep files on most workers. Do you have a map?”

             
The women walked towards me with confidence as I reached into my right cargo pocket and pull out the creased map. She pointed to a spot on my map and I barely mark it with my dying marker. I had been to that place before a few years back. It must have grown since then.

             
“Thank you.” I managed to mutter between my lips.

             
“Good luck. I know what it is like to lose someone you love.” She turns to the man and they leave. He constantly turned to look at me until they slipped into the distance.

             
I still question the motives of that woman. Why would she help me? I cut her.

             
I hurt her.

             
That was two days ago.

             
Her advice brought me to this worker examination station. It is an old medical care center along the side of the highway. It is surrounded by a hill along the right side and behind the building looks like acres of dense forest. The remaining side of the center points towards a collapsed town and a concrete bridge a quarter of a mile down the highway. Several guards are posted all over the building. I watch for several minutes and study their movements carefully. I need to do this right.

             
This all seems too familiar. It looks eerily like the fast food restaurant. Where Walt died. I'm gonna do this right this time.

             
It was over a week ago that he died. Maybe longer. I am already having trouble remembering the way he looked as he quickly slips to the farthest corners of my mind. Sometimes, I think that this pursuit of mine is going to get me killed too, but dying really doesn't scare me anyway. Anyway, this time I will be more careful. I will be alone.

             
Alone is better anyway.

             
The building is two levels with an overhang in the front once used for cars to drop off patients. Windows line the sides of the white brick building, but the glass is tinted and I can’t see inside. Four guards stand in the front of the center. Some seem to be walking in and out on routine patrols of the area. Waiting till dark will be my best hope to get inside. I move silently to the top of the nearby hill and lie down among the tall grass. I can see the roof and the entire area around it as the guards move about.

             
After an hour of watching, a school bus pulls up to the front of the center. Soldiers with guns come out first and escort nearly twenty men, women, girls, and boys off of the bus. I study each face as they step off the bus and line up to walk into the center.

             
Sara is not among them.

             
They look exhausted and tired with perspiration on their faces. A few of the soldiers push them along with the butts of their rifles. They share a few yells and threats. One of the workers is a young girl. She has dark hair and looks filthy in the midday sun. She can't be any older than twelve. She struggles to walk on her left leg. An older boy with short dark hair helps her move, nearly carrying her. His hands are in handcuffs, but he still manages to support most of her weight. Soon they all are inside.

             
Four hours pass slowly as I lie in the tall grass without moving a muscle. Occasionally I need to remind myself to blink as I gaze at the entrance. What is going on in there?

             
As the sun sets, the workers file back onto the bus from the entrance of the center. Their numbers are noticeably smaller. The same boy with short dark hair comes out. His face now points down, and his steps are slow, methodical. He looks up for a second and his face looks bruised. Dried blood from his hairline and nose covers one half of his face. The little girl is nowhere to be seen. They all load up and the bus's diesel engine roars to life and drives away in a whirl of smoke down the highway.

             
When the bus fades into the distance, a few other men in the back carry out large black bags in pairs and toss them into the dumpster. The dumpster is nearly full of them when they close the lid. My heart begins to pound through my chest as I put it all together...

             
Body-bags.

             
I close my eyes and try to slow down my heart. My right hand holds my bow and I feel my fist tighten. The bow feels like it could snap as my knuckles become whiter and whiter. I want to start firing arrows at every one of those men in black. How could they be so cruel?

             
So evil?

             
Tonight, I will try and get in and at the very least I can slit some of their throats. I feel the corners of my lips turn briefly upwards as I finger the top of Walt's knife in my belt.

             
Knives aren't meant to be used on innocent women on the side of the road. They were meant to be used to kill beasts.

             
I hide among the tall grass along the road for the next several hours in the dark. When the moon is bright in the sky, I travel amongst the trees in a wide circle to the rear of the center.

             
Like the fast food restaurant there are just a few guards at the rear. Someday they will focus on other entrances besides the one in the front.

             
There is a pair of guards walking around the center, but they are too involved in their conversation. If I time it right, I won't even have to kill them to get inside. Despite how much these soldiers need to die, leaving dead bodies makes a dangerous path that can be followed.

             
I move behind the dumpster. The smell is horrendous and I almost gag. I imagine the bodies. The little girl.

             
Never mind. I am going to kill these two guards. While holding my breath, I sling the bow onto my shoulder and pull out two knives. One of them was Walter's. One belonged to the monster from the black helicopter.

             
I tiptoe closer to the building and squeeze the handles tightly in my fists. Just as I duck down behind a bush, they round the corner and prepare for another lap of the rear. A few more steps then they'll have their backs towards me.

             
As soon as they face the other way, I stand up and leap meticulously so that I am within arm's reach. They are too busy talking to hear me.

             
And I am too stealthy.

             
Neither of them makes a noise as they both fall to the ground in unison. I pull each knife from the backs of their skulls and return the blades to my belt. I switch back to my bow and approach the door while notching an arrow. My hand grabs the door's handle and pulls. The door is locked.

             
I swear to myself. It's dangerous, but I guess I will have to try the front entrance. It's night so I probably still have time before they find the bodies. I drag my back along the wall as I steady the arrow. The brick changes to glass along the wall, and I squat down but continue to walk towards the entrance. I single guard is in the front under the overhang. He is smoking. The others are on the roof, and probably can't see the guard under the overhang.

             
The man on the ground keeps looking around. Unlike the other two, he has his helmet on. His hair is blonde or red.

             
It reminds me of someone.

             
He begins to turn his body. When his eyes meet mine, my arrow is already in flight. The cigarette falls to the asphalt around the same time his body quietly slumps to the ground. When the guard on the roof disappears from view, I retrieve the arrow from his forehead and look through the front entrance. It looks empty though the glass. Maybe I will be lucky, and they all are sleeping at this hour.

             
My elbow nudges the glass door slightly open and the knife in my hand points toward the opening. In the lobby of the center is a propane lantern turned down low. The room is empty and quiet except for the hiss of the gas lamp.

             
I move towards the reception desk and return the bow to my hand with an arrow ready to fly. The tip of the arrow still slowly drips from the man outside. Behind the reception desk are stacks of binders and loose papers. I hesitate on their importance, and then I notice that along the top of several binders reads:

WORKER LISTING of SKILLS and LOCATIONS

WORKER MANAGEMENT STATION B

I turn to a random page in the top binder marked “W.” A dozen names are on each page. One reads: