Rage Within (5 page)

A voice rose from the crowd. “Cops!”

Farther down the street, she could see the police officers in their riot gear coming through the crowd. Decked out in ballistic vests, they had their batons raised. Some of them were even swinging. They marched in a single line, dispersing the crowd, forcing everyone back toward Granville. People scrambled in all directions to try and get away.

Nothing like a little crowd control.

She realized that Sara was still tugging on her hand, almost pulling her shoulder out of its socket. Aries turned and allowed her friend to drag her away. Several other people were moving back onto Helmcken Street. Joy and Becka were about ten feet ahead of them, and Joy kept pointing to the right-hand side.

Howe Street was better. People were still running about in all directions, but the crowd was thinned out. They were able to move faster. A few cars pulled out of parking spaces and drove slowly down the one-way street. The general consensus seemed to be that everyone suddenly had somewhere better to be.

Two blocks down and they reached Joy’s car.

All the windows were smashed. Glass littered the ground and leather seats.

“Oh, man,” Joy said. “My dad’s gonna kill me.”

It could have been worse, Aries thought as she did her best to brush away some of the glass before sitting down in the passenger seat. The tires could have been slashed. But she didn’t bother saying it out loud. It wouldn’t have made Joy feel better.

At least the car started. Joy put the car in drive and they got out of there as fast as possible.

“Well, that was fun,” Sara said as they headed onto the bridge. “What should we do tomorrow? Rob a bank? Skydiving?”

“I’ve got a chem quiz,” Aries said. “That’s terrifying enough.”

The bridge was fairly empty, and as they drove, Aries glanced across the bay to where the ocean stretched past Stanley Park. She could see boats out on the water and people walking along the seawall enjoying the afternoon. Seagulls soared gracefully above English Bay, oblivious to the humans below them. Everything looked so peaceful. Such an odd contrast from the scene they’d just witnessed.

Funny how everything could change so quickly.

NOTHING

People behaving badly. All over the world. None of these were isolated incidents. But the majority were subtle enough that no one noticed.

Oops.

We would sit in the darkness over the next few weeks and repeat these stories, these small cautions that no one realized were warnings until after the fact. They seemed so very important, and it was as if each of us wanted to remember the tiny details so we could add them to all the history books they might one day write about us.

I wonder if people will remember me. I hope not.

It’s better if they don’t.

PRESENT DAY
THREE MONTHS AFTER THE EARTHQUAKES

MASON

Cambie Street was quiet. Nothing moved.

The engine of the motorcycle destroyed all that beautiful silence.

It was late afternoon, possibly Sunday. Earlier, back at the house, Mason had noticed that someone had put a calendar up on the big stainless-steel refrigerator. They’d started crossing out dates with a neon pen. So many endless days had been lost. He couldn’t actually remember what day it was anymore. It’s not like he had anywhere to be or a certain date on which to do anything. He didn’t own a watch and he didn’t really care what time it was. Some of the others still paid attention to the time, but not him. As far as Mason was concerned, the world now worked in daylight and darkness. He’d have to assume that whoever was doing the marking actually had a clue as to what was going on. And according to the fuzzy-kitten calendar, it was Sunday and less than a week until Christmas. Funny how time flies. Only this year, there wouldn’t be any stockings hung by the chimney with care. No eggnog mixed with rum and partying in his friend’s basement. Last year Tom got so drunk he threw up candy
canes and mincemeat tarts all over the snow-filled driveway. Good times gone.

It was so weird living in Vancouver now, since there wasn’t any snow. Back in Saskatoon everything would be buried under several feet of the white stuff at this time of the year and he’d probably be shoveling it while his mother baked the aforementioned mincemeat tarts and other Christmas treats. Not that he was complaining. Without the electricity, he couldn’t imagine what it must be like for any survivors still hanging around his hometown. They’d be frozen Popsicles. Was Saskatoon a complete ghost town now, or were there Baggers patrolling the streets like they were doing here?

So many holidays that meant nothing anymore. He’d completely forgotten about Thanksgiving and Halloween. So had everyone else. Once upon a time, October 31 had been his favorite holiday. No point in thinking about these things anymore. Dressing up. Candy. Still plenty of scary monsters though these days. They didn’t even have to wear costumes.

And luckily none of them appeared to be following him right now.

At the bottom of Queen Elizabeth Park, he pulled over in the middle of the road. He looked around to make sure the coast was clear before cutting the engine. He tugged at the helmet strap and pulled it off, leaving it to hang from the handlebars. His ears strained against the silence, listening for any sign he could interpret as a warning. Voices. Cars. Psychotic nut jobs running toward him. Anything.

From above, a group of Canada geese began to honk as they headed north, probably over to Stanley Park, where they’d be able to spend their afternoon baking in the sunlight, cleaning their feathers in one of the man-made ponds, and lounging about completely undisturbed. Not that the geese
ever cared much about people anyway. They probably didn’t even realize the humans were gone.

So much easier being a bird.

He turned his attention away from the sky and to the back of the motorcycle, where the pretty girl with green eyes struggled to remove her helmet.

“So where next?” he asked.

Aries shifted on the seat behind him, trying to undo the strap with her fingers. Mason bit his tongue to keep from saying something along the lines of “I told you so.” It was impossible giving directions this way. Neither could hear each other over the engine without screaming, and that would only attract more attention. It didn’t help that Aries was insistent on them wearing the safety gear. Cracking his head open against the cement was the least of Mason’s worries. But he went along with her because it was better than arguing.

Easier to just nod and agree to everything these days.

“We can turn left here or keep going up to Forty-ninth,” she said as she pulled at the tangles in her hair. “It’s your choice.”

“Not my choice,” he said. “Remember, I’m the newbie. I know nothing about this city. As your boyfriend likes to say, I’m Tourist Boy.”

Aries frowned. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Then why do you keep crawling out the window to meet with him late at night?”

He was glad to see the shocked look on her face. She hadn’t realized he’d seen her the past few nights. She must have thought she was being secretive, and it probably worked for some of the others. But not for Mason. It takes a sneak to recognize a sneak. He’d been doing a lot of his own midnight walkabouts. It was impossible for him to get
more than a few hours of sleep each night. He wasn’t used to sharing a house with so many other people, and when he did drift off, something always brought him back. There were too many memories being pulled to the surface when he dreamed, too many nightmares. Once the tossing and turning got to be too much, he’d sneak outside and go for a walk. He never went too far, just a few blocks. Enough space to give him room to breathe. Sometimes he’d hang out in the garden while watching the moon drag itself across the sky. He felt safer there. A guardian angel. He could watch over everyone while they closed their eyes and became utterly dependent on him.

Every single night he managed to talk himself out of leaving. Or was it the other way around? How many times could he convince himself to stay?

There were a lot of them now. A new family. So many people he felt responsible for saving. He didn’t want this again. He’d failed too many times. Too many people died as a result.

When he finally did sleep, he still dreamed of her.

Chickadee.

I want you to promise me something.

He’d stuck to that promise after they’d met on the road as fellow survivors—at least for a while. So why was he still here? He didn’t owe her anything. It’s not like she asked him to go and find new people to take care of. He’d come and he’d felt the ocean and in a way it had made him feel better. But he was still empty. And she was still gone. So were the others. Coming to Vancouver hadn’t changed anything. Reaching into his pocket, he closed his fingers around the small glass vial he now carried at all times. A bottle filled with sand. A little token he’d taken the morning he’d kept his promise to Chickadee and given his legs a good soaking in the ocean
water. It comforted him. His good luck charm, not that he believed in such things.

“Let’s go up to Forty-ninth,” Aries finally said. “Take a left there and then we head down a few miles.”

“You’re the boss,” he said.

From somewhere not far enough away, a recorded voice filled the air.

“WARNING. WARNING. THE CITY IS CLOSED. NO ONE IS ALLOWED IN OR OUT. THERE ARE GUARDS POSTED. TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT. DO NOT TRY TO LEAVE THE CITY. DO NOT STAY IN YOUR HOMES. IT IS NO LONGER SAFE. SURVIVORS ARE INSTRUCTED TO GO TO THE PLAZA OF NATIONS IN THE DOWNTOWN CORE. THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO CAN HELP YOU.

“WARNING. WARNING. THE CITY IS CLOSED . . .”

The recording started in on its second loop.

The Baggers were more organized these days.

Scary.

Mason grabbed his helmet. “Time to go. Come on or they’ll see us this time.”

Aries wrapped her arms tightly around his waist as he started the bike.

The recordings were coming from white vans with tinted windows. There were several of them touring the streets. It was almost as if the Baggers had gone in and cleaned out the entire inventory at Budget van rentals. No one knew who was driving, but they had a good enough idea.

And the Baggers were looking for them.

Not just them. Any survivors in general.

He didn’t want to imagine what they might do if they caught Aries and him taking this particular joyride.

Mason didn’t know if the recordings were true. He hadn’t
tried to leave the city. But he didn’t doubt for a second that the Baggers would try to kill anyone who didn’t take the warning seriously. They’d already destroyed most of the world. What were a few more people?

What was even scarier was the bit about sending people into the downtown core. They were rounding up the survivors. And Mason was positive there were some scared, exhausted, and confused people who would willingly walk into their trap. It was a clever ruse, offering help and salvation to those still alive despite all the odds. What were the Baggers planning?

He figured in the next few days he’d have to go down and check it out for himself.

*   *   *

Half an hour later Mason pulled the bike over to the side of the road and killed the engine. They were parked in front of a two-story house in the middle of what once might have been a nice neighborhood. The street was quiet and lined with skeletal trees with leaves rotting on the grass beneath them.

Mason glanced down the road, checking for signs of life. It was hard to believe no one lived here. On any other day, he could picture people. Teenagers grudgingly raking up leaves or doing some other sort of weekend chore. People would be out talking to their neighbors or cleaning the debris out of the gutters. Mothers might be chasing after their children or pushing babies in strollers. Others might be taking the family dogs for walks or getting ready to do some grocery shopping.

But this street was dead. No amount of wishing could change the eerie empty feeling that curled along the base of his spine as he climbed off the bike and put the kickstand in place.

Aries wasn’t paying attention to the street; her attention
was set on the house in front of them. It was a split-level house with a wrought-iron fence around the front. There was no car in the driveway.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do,” she said. “I should have done this ages ago. But I couldn’t bring myself to. And time just kind of flew by. But now I have no excuse. I’m here. Might as well go in.”

They left their helmets on the bike and walked toward the gate, which squeaked when Mason pulled it open. Their feet echoed on the concrete as they moved along the path toward the door. He could feel the waves of stress pouring off Aries’s back. He wondered if he would have felt the same way if he was back at his own house in Saskatoon. But that wouldn’t happen in a million years. He’d burned the house down before he left so many weeks ago. Part of him was glad he’d done it. At least now he’d never have a reason to go back.

You can’t ever go back. Never again.

Aries had a key chain with a little stuffed toy of a dog with buttons for eyes. She had pulled it out of her pocket before realizing she wouldn’t need it. The front door was open a few inches. Both of them raised the police batons they now carried wherever they went. Michael and he had taken them from some dead cops they’d found sitting in a car in Kitsilano. They’d been searching for guns, but those were long gone. At least batons were easier to carry than baseball bats. It was a shame they hadn’t found enough for everyone to use.

Good weapons were hard to find. It seemed that someone had already claimed all the guns.

“They’ve been here, haven’t they?” she asked, referring to the fact that the Baggers had been doing house-to-house searches. Aries herself had witnessed the results when she and
her friends hid in a garage in the early days of the change and watched as the Baggers forcibly removed people from their homes, killing them in the streets.