The Last Tribe (33 page)

“What is it?”  Todd asked.  He saw
the torment on her face.  He was holding his three paintings and did not look
through the broken glass.

“Go back, we have to go out the front. 
We cannot go out this way.”  She was crying, and scooted around Todd as he held
the door open.

Todd put his paintings on the floor
and walked to the glass.  The door shut behind him.  Rancid air blew through
the broken window’s opening.  He saw what affected Solange.  There were tens of
thousands of bodies, maybe hundreds of thousands.  They filled a hole the size
of a football field, and were piled as high as a three or four story building. 
Birds feasted on the remains. 

“Good lord.”  Todd muttered.  He
saw more evidence of the gunfight.  Men in fatigues lay dead outside the back
door.  Bodies in street clothes poked from behind trees and a nearby dumpster. 

Todd shut his eyes, took stock of
the scene, and turned to leave.  The door was locked from the inside.  He
knocked for Solange.  He saw the door handle turn.  A composed Solange held the
door for him.

“May we go now?”  She asked
solemnly.

“I cannot go fast or far enough.” 
Todd picked up the paintings and they made their way out of the Metropolitan
Museum of Art. 

They pulled the scarves from their
faces when they were close to 71
^st
street. 

“That was the worst thing I have
ever seen.”  Todd said to her.

“I will never see anything as
horrible again.  Those birds eating the rotting flesh?  How can a place that
held all the beauty of humanity become such a nightmare?  What happened?  Why
was the army there?  I did not hear anything about a gunfight in New York
City.  I listened to the news every day.”  Solange maintained a quick pace
towards their camp despite the poor conditions in the ice and snow.

“I don’t think we’ll ever know.” 
Todd paused, stopping to look at her.  “And you know what?  I don’t think I want
to know.” 

The U.S. government’s initial takeover
of the media was not nefarious.  Television networks were devastated by the
pandemic.  Broadcast journalists fell to the rapture immediately, exposed to it
sooner than the general population by foreign correspondents returning from
assignments. 

The President needed information
distributed.  He appointed an Office of Information, and used the military to
control television and radio networks. 

There was no cure for the rapture. 
The population was dying at in increasing rate, and the major cities were
crumbling. 

As the pandemic worsened, the
Office of Information became a tool for control.  The country was in critical
shape.  The new edict from the Secretary of Information was to broadcast positive
stories and non-specific information.  The Secretary assumed control of the
internet and social media outlets in an attempt to positively spin all rapture
messaging.

The Battle at the Met, as it was
called by the few survivors of the fight, occurred after the government media
takeover.  The event did not qualify as ‘positive,’ and was kept out of the
news, and off the internet.

The CDC theorized it could derive
and synthesize a cure from healthy, immune citizens, and it used the military
to locate and detain those citizens.  The military lured people to community
meetings with the promise of food, water, and information.  Body temperature
scanners identified healthy people.  Healthy citizens, typically pulled aside
from the main meeting, could volunteer to assist in testing or be forcibly
‘volunteered.’

The program yielded no results. 
Those captured either contracted the rapture within days, or died from the
disease without developing a high fever.

As the military continued to take
custody of individuals, the population became suspicious.

‘Information’ events were held at
libraries or other public spaces.  New York City suffered a food and water
shortage almost immediately, and the promise of supplies brought large crowds. 
The military events held at the Metropolitan were popular.  The attendees, many
of whom went regularly, began to notice people with low temperatures were
disappearing.

The military, pressured to find as
many healthy people as possible, became sloppy in their kidnappings.  The
government believed the end, a cure, would justify any means. When an eight
year old girl was taken from her family, New Yorkers organized to end the
kidnappings at the Metropolitan. 

The initial attempt at halting the
government was an old world response.  People arrived at the Metropolitan with
protest signs, blocking entry to the museum and scanners.  The military
arrested all of the protesters, locking them in a containment facility.

“We have rights, you can’t do this
to us.”  A detained lawyer argued.

“Do you want to die here, or do you
want to die in your home with friends and family?  That is your choice.  I am
releasing you in one hour, but we have your names and photos.  If you try to
stop our programs again, you won’t be released.  No one will ever see you
again.”  The cold certainty in the sergeant’s voice told the captives it was
not an idle threat.

The people in the containment area
exchanged names and set up a meeting.  They organized a different kind of
protest, one which would end the public roundups immediately. 

The military doubled their presence
at the Metropolitan, but they were not prepared for the assault.  Twenty
military personnel fought hundreds of armed citizens.  Despite their superior
weaponry, the sheer number of attackers doomed the soldiers.  The Battle at the
Met was bloody and shocking.  Bodies of citizens and soldiers lined the steps
and corridors of the museum.

Riots erupted on the upper east
side of Manhattan.  Buildings were set on fire, military vehicles were
attacked.  The army had no response and no ability to stop the uprising. 

The neighborhood around the museum
burned for days. 

Solange and Todd saw the black
smoke of the signal fires as they approached the camp.  The kids were watching
a movie in one of the RV’s, while Melanie and Emily supervised.

“Looks like you made out.”  John
said to his brother, walking towards them with a smile on his face.  “You’re
back sooner than I thought.  Did you see everything you wanted to see?”

“Did Emily tell you about the smell
that chased her from the science musem?”  Todd’s face was serious.

“You let a little smell scare you
away?  Come on br…”

“It was a mass grave.  There were
tens of thousands of bodies.”  Todd turned to Solange.  “Maybe more?”  He asked
her.

“I did not look at it for more than
a second, but yes, there were hundreds of thousands of bodies, and birds.”  She
shook her head.  “The birds were horrifying.”

Todd continued.  “We shouldn’t go
north of here again, maybe three or four blocks, but nothing more.  I say we
check out the statue of liberty tomorrow, the Empire State building, and
leave.  There’s no one here.” 

John was confused.  “I get why no
one would live up there, but there might be people in lower Manhattan.  We need
to give this a shot.”

“Let me put this art away, and we
will tell you what else we saw.”  Todd went into the RV to say hello to Emily. 
He asked her and Melanie to step outside.  The kids cheered when they saw Todd,
but quickly returned to their movie.  Todd could not compete with Jim Carey.

Todd and Solange recounted their
experience at the Metropolitan to the circle of adults. 

Peter was the first to respond.

“I read about that whole thing
towards the end of the rapture.  I guess I forgot about it, or maybe thought it
was a hoax.  We didn’t have anything like that in D.C.  I assumed it was
fiction.  I’m sorry guys, sorry I sent you up there without even thinking about
it.”

The group stared at Peter.

“Wait, what?  You knew about the
gunfight and you didn’t say anything?”  Todd was not upset, he was stunned.

“Well, kind of, but not really.  I
was very into the computer in my last few years.  I read everything I could,
had some deep blog contacts.  There was an email that circulated, the
government shut down the actual internet.  Hell, you couldn’t even use the text
part of an email, you had to write what you wanted in an attachment, cover it
with innocuous things in the body.  Anyway, I was getting a newsletter,
happenings around the country.  Some of it was crap, I mean, I lived in
Washington, and the newsletter would say ‘the White House is in flames.’  When
I read there was a firefight at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, well, it made
no sense.  I put it in the fiction category.”

“Did the letter say why it
happened?  Did it talk about the mass grave in the park?”  Todd was interested
in these newsletters, as was the rest of the group.  The letters might hold a
key to survivor’s locations.

“The newsletters always talked
about healthy people being snatched up, about how no one should attend the
government information sessions or food giveaways, that everything was a ruse
to identify and take healthy people.”  Peter could tell he was losing the
group.  “I told you some of the information was hard to believe.”

“Your newsletters claimed the
government was rounding up healthy people?  Why?”  John believed the
newsletters, and he could sense Peter was uncomfortable talking about the
conspiracies.

“There was one post from a woman
who lived in Dallas.  She attended a government wellness meeting because she
needed water and food.  She had a normal temp.  They asked her to come into the
next room, and she met with a younger man in fatigues who asked her to
‘volunteer’ to come with him.  He was asking anyone who was healthy to
volunteer to be tested in the hopes of finding a cure.  He told her that his
orders were to take people by force, but he didn’t want to follow orders.  She
told him that she had two children at home that were sick, and still needed her
and the food and water she was bringing back.  The man told her to never attend
another wellness clinic, to take the food and water from her neighbors or
anywhere else but never trust the government.  The army man pulled a digital
thermometer out of his pocket, stuck it in his mouth, waited for the beep and
handed it to her.  He said to show the people at the desk the new reading, and tell
them she failed his follow up exam.  The temperature read 102.  She thanked
him, told him ‘god bless,’ and she finished the seminar to get her food and water.” 
Peter stopped.

After a long pause he continued. 
“Well, the army people in New York City were not as moral as the young man in
Dallas.  They were taking people, and were not smooth about it.  After a group
of protesters were arrested, the city went crazy.  There was a post about the
upper east side being engulfed in flames, and riots occurring around all of the
military armories and stations.  It was an unbelievable story, like the ones
about D.C.  I assumed they were false.  There were several posts about a
gunfight at the Metropolitan Museum of Art between the army and a group of
attackers rushing the guards, shooting people, taking the museum, trashing art,
burning buildings, stealing the food.  None of it made sense.”

Everyone was quiet.  Matt asked the
obvious question.  “Do you still have these emails?  Did you bring your laptop
or tablet?  I’d like to read them.”

Peter nodded.  “They are all on my
computer.  We just need to charge it.”

Melanie looked at Peter.  “You are
full of surprises.  Why didn’t you ever share with me?  Four months together
and you never mentioned any of this.”

“Some of the past needed to stay in
the past.  What did it matter?  I didn’t want you to think I was some
conspiracy loon, which I probably am.  I saw too much in the military to not be
suspicious.”  He turned to Todd and Solange.  “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you.  It
honestly slipped my mind.  I hope it wasn’t too horrible.”

Solange put her hand on his
shoulder.  “It was horrific, but I am okay.  You are right, the past is the
past.  I wanted the Matisse, and I feel like I earned the painting.”

“Did the writings say anything
about the mass grave?”  Todd wanted a peak at those emails too.

“Every city had mass graves.” 
Peter said solemnly.  “I saw the one in D.C.  The sheer volume of corpses was staggering. 
I would think New York would pick a better spot than Central Park, but I guess
not.  No, I didn’t know it was there, but I knew there would be one somewhere.”

John moved to more practical
questions.  “Do you think any of the people on your email string stayed alive? 
Do you know where anyone is?”

“I don’t know if anyone is alive,
but probably not.  No one mentioned a specific location.  We assumed the email
was being monitored.  If you are looking for a post that says ‘we are leaving
Manhattan for Montauk’, you’re not going to find it.  No one would give up that
kind of specific information for fear it was being tracked.” 

John nodded.  “Do we have a new
plan?  Do we think we are wasting our time in New York City?  We can drive down
to the statue, take a look, and drive up to Boston.  Not a problem for me.”

Peter was the first to speak.  “I
would like to give it at least one full day.  I want to walk down to St.
Patrick’s and light a candle for my wife and children,  and one for the world. 
I will come back and man the fire and blow the horns tomorrow.  I vote to give
New York City two days.”

“We can go to Ellis Island
tomorrow.”  Emily said excitedly.  “I bet we can find a boat or something to
get us over there.”

“Are you crazy?”  John responded. 
“It’s freezing.  It’s windy.  How the hell are we going to find a boat to take
us to Ellis Island?”

“Don’t try and talk her out of it. 
She is crazy.”  Todd said to John.  Todd received a punch on the shoulder along
with a laugh from his wife.

Five minutes after the adult
meeting, the kids emerged from the RV.  A full tribe soccer match began in the
park.  Todd bowed out to make chili and corn bread, while the rest of the group
chose sides.  The temperature was brisk.  Laughter and screaming echoed off the
buildings around the park.  New York City, silent for too long, welcomed the
raucous match.

The air filled with the aroma of
dinner as Todd opened the door of the RV to place the chili on a picnic table. 
He set the pot down and watched the soccer.

“Excuse me.”  Todd heard a meek
female voice.  “My name is Kelly.  I’m so hungry.  May I have some of your
soup?”

Todd spun around to face a woman in
her mid twenties.  Her face was dirty, and she was thin.  Her legs and arms were
sticks in her jeans and top. Her cheeks were sunken and sallow.  Tears ran down
her face and made tracks in the grime.   Todd could not help but notice she
wore beautiful designer clothes.

“Of course, my god, please sit
down.  My name is Todd, Todd Dixon.”  He ladled a large portion of chili into a
paper bowl and offered her a seat with the food.  “Sit down, eat, you’re with
friends now.  Anything we have, just ask.”  He handed her a paper cup of hot
chocolate.  “Would you like to eat inside, out of the cold?”

The woman said nothing.  She ate
ravenously.  When she was done, she looked at Todd with thankful eyes. 

“Would you like more?  There is
plenty.”  He could tell she was still hungry but was afraid to ask.

“Please.”  Her eyes streamed tears
of joy and relief. 

The rest of the group stopped their
soccer game and stared at Todd and the stranger.  John kept the crowd away to
give the starving woman space. 

Jay broke from the group and ran
over to the woman.

“Hello,” he said extending his
hand.  “My name is Jay Dixon.  I’m six.  What is your name.”

“Hello Jay Dixon.”  She said,
taking his hand.  “My name is Kelly Maddox.  I am 28.”

“This is my dad, Todd.”  Jay said,
flipping his thumb over his shoulder in Todd’s direction.

“Your father makes excellent chili,
and is a very generous man.”  Kelly said.  She stood and offered her hand to
Todd.  “Thank you for your kindness.”

The rest of the group walked over
to meet her.  “Before I introduce myself, I am on a scavenging mission for a
group of survivors living in a seminary near Chelsea.  There are eleven of us,
and we need food desperately.”

“Okay.”  Todd started.  “What is
the age range of the group?”

“We have three children, three
teens, five adults.  One of the adults is in her late sixties.”  Kelly drank a
cup of hot chocolate as she answered the questions.  Todd made her a double mug
as she ate the chili. 

“Should we move down there or send
a party to pick them up while I make food?” 

Kelly paused, “I think you should
have us come up here.  I can go down with a few of you to pick up the group. 
We have a van.  We don’t use it because of the snow.”

John cut in on their conversation. 
“Is there anyone we should be worried about bringing to our camp?”

The question hung in the air.

“Look, I will help anyone.  None of
us asked for this situation, but you didn’t hand pick the 10 people you
survived the rapture with.  I have two sons and two nephews, and three other
children I have grown fond of in the last week.  We have young women.  I would
like to know if you think there is anyone in your group I should be keeping an
eye on.” 

Emily was annoyed John asked the
question in front of the children, but she was glad he asked the question.  She
could sense Kelly was intimidated by John’s forward manner.  She added to his
question.  “We are going to give you food, don’t even think not getting food as
an option.  I am a mother.  You met my son, Jay.  Please let us know if you
think there is someone we should be worried about.”

Kelly dropped her head.  “I don’t
trust Sal.  He’s stoned most of the time.  He’s a big guy, worked construction,
his hands are scarred from years of hard labor.  He’s a pill popper.  I’d keep
an eye on him.  I think he wants to steal things and run away, which would be fine
with me.  He’s not around much, but you’ll be able to tell right away if he is
at the seminary.  He must have been a scam artist or grifter before all of
this.  I swear he’s still looking for an angle.  The rest of us have figured
out, there are no angles anymore.”  She looked back up at the group.  “The rest
of us, me and the other 9, we’re good people.  Well, one of the teens is a
punk, but he has a good heart.”  She pleaded with Emily.  “Please help us.  We
need water as much as we need food.  We drink dirty snow and rain puddles.” 
Kelly dropped her face.

The eight days together honed the
new tribe into a well oiled machine.  The Dixon family and the Washington D.C.
family sprung into action.  Melanie, Todd, Matt, and Emily elected to stay with
the children.  John, Solange, Peter, and Craig would take Kelly to Chelsea, meet
her clan, and invite them back to the park for dinner.  The decisions were made
quickly, and the greeting party prepared for a drive down Fifth Avenue.

Craig was excited to meet the new
people.  His father pulled him aside.  “Craig,”  John started, “you’re an
important part of this group.  We want the kids to feel safe and excited to
come with us.  Make sure you are friendly.  Let’s get you a bag of candy, maybe
some lollipops or something that you can hand out.”  Craig nodded, keeping
focused as his insides danced with excitement. 

“You won’t need candy.”  Kelly
overheard.  “Bottles of water are needed more than lollipops or candy bars.” 

Craig was handed a box of juice
pouches.

Peter walked to his fishing buddy,
Craig.  “You and I are the two friendly faces in our group.  Your dad and
Solange are serious enough for the four of us.”  The old man laughed, rubbing
Craig’s hair like old men like to do.