Will to Survive (6 page)

The refinery had always had high metal fences topped with barbed wire. Those remained, but they'd been reinforced in places with what looked like guard towers. I could make out the small figures of sentries, weapons in hand. I was sure they were all looking at us the same way we were looking at them. We were either a curiosity or a threat, but either way we were worthy of being watched.

“The refinery isn't working, is it?” Todd asked.

“Unlikely. A refinery requires massive amounts of electricity that would be far beyond the power produced by an emergency generator,” Herb said. “But from this distance I don't see any noticeable damage, so perhaps it could be put back into operation if it had power.”

“Then what's the value?” Todd asked.

“If the refinery was operating normally when the blackout hit, then we can assume that one-third of the oil had already been converted to gasoline, one-third was in the process, and one-third was waiting to be refined.”

“That means that five of those tanks are filled with gas,” Todd said. “That's enough gas to fuel all the gas-guzzling old cars and trucks and go-carts and planes that we have running for years to come.”

“Certainly a year or two,” Herb said.

“So in there would be more than enough for what we would need?” I prodded.

Herb didn't answer right away. Did he think the blackout was going to last more than two years? I was almost afraid to ask that question, and certainly wasn't going to ask it in front of Todd. Besides, I knew that even if Herb thought that, he wouldn't say it. He always talked about how you couldn't give people more truth than they could handle. Already—just judging from the way the food was being rationed, the way wood was being harvested and stacked for fires—people had started to suspect that the blackout would last throughout the winter.

“We have enough gas to run our neighborhood vehicles, this plane, and your ultralight for the foreseeable future, but not forever,” Herb finally answered. “As well as gas, that refinery is also a storage facility for propane. We can use propane.”

“It would be nice to have a barbecue,” Todd said.

“I was thinking more about the propane heaters that could be used to heat the greenhouses and prolong the growing season,” Herb said.

“I hadn't thought of that,” I said.

“Neither had I,” Herb replied. “That's the thinking of Mr. Nicholas and the other engineers. That's why we have the away teams searching for abandoned tanks.”

“I wouldn't think they've had much luck,” Quinn said.

“Not a lot. It's not just Todd looking for a way to cook,” Herb answered.

“Maybe we could work out a deal with the people here at the refinery, you know, trading gas for things they might want, like food,” I suggested.

“Do we have enough food to trade?” Todd asked.

“Ultimately, we might not have any choice,” Herb said.

“You might even be able to trade them for those go-carts you've been making or medical treatment if they don't have a doctor,” Quinn suggested. “There might be lots of things.”

“We probably can think of something to trade to get fuel from them,” Herb said. “And then we could trade that fuel with other communities for other things we need. It would basically be free trade at work.”

“We could even partner with them the way we partnered with the Olde Burnham neighborhood,” I said.

“We saw how that worked out,” Todd said sarcastically.

Of course it hadn't worked out. They'd all been slaughtered, their valuables taken, women and children kidnapped and used as slaves—and we'd been powerless to do anything except see the aftereffects. We had been useless as their partners when it came down to the crunch. We'd avenged their deaths—but did that make it any better? Did it make them any less dead? I knew the answers to my questions, but still there was something right about what we'd done in the end.

“I think we will try to make contact with the refinery at some point,” Herb said. “Better to have new friends than new enemies. I've seen enough. Let's head off before they decide we're a threat and take a shot at us.”

I had been so interested looking down that I hadn't realized just how close and low we'd gotten. We were certainly within rifle range. I pulled back the stick to gain elevation and at the same time banked away from the refinery. I goosed the throttle to feed more fuel into the engine and compensate for the climb and bank.

Leveling off and coming out of the bank, I did some dead reckoning and aimed for a spot where the towers of the city were just poking above the horizon, dwarfed by the distance. I thought that line would take us pretty close to the compound.

As we flew I was more aware of the little communities that appeared beneath us. Repeatedly I altered our course to get a closer look at a patch of green—cultivated land—and the fences that surrounded it. Most often the fences seemed like they wouldn't so much stop invaders as let them know that perhaps there was something inside worth taking. It made me realize just how solid our defenses were, how much bigger and better prepared we were than most people—no, better prepared than
anybody
else.

I was able to use the roadways below to correct our flight path to take us toward the compound. It wasn't long until I could see it in the distance.

“How close do you want me to get?” I asked Herb.

“Close enough for them to definitely see us, but far enough away to avoid them taking potshots at us,” he said.

I adjusted our course. If I was going to err, it would be on the side of safety. I pulled us into a slow bank around the compound, circling so that Herb and his binoculars were on the inside.

“So what do we do now?” Todd asked.

“What we're doing,” I said. “We observe.”

“And what do you see?” Todd asked Herb.

“Nothing, I'm seeing nothing.”

“Do you want me to bring us in closer?”

“Make smaller and smaller circles until I tell you to pull out,” Herb said.

Once again I adjusted our flight to get closer. At the same time I pulled slightly back on the stick. If we had to get close I wanted more height. Herb kept his eyes glued to the binoculars. I looked past him to the compound. I couldn't see any movement at all—no vehicles or people were visible to the naked eye.

“I think we need to fly right over the top, low and slow,” Herb said.

“Is it smart to do that?”

“There's nothing to worry about. The compound is deserted. I'm pretty certain they've left again.”

I hit the pedals and flaps and tightened up the bank until we were coming straight at the compound on the same approach I'd used to land. I pushed forward on the stick and brought us lower. “Are you sure there's nobody?” I asked.

“Nobody. They're gone.”

As we swooped over, I could see that the grounds were deserted. There were no guards on the perimeter, no vehicles by the buildings, nothing. I could also see the damage that had been done by the bomb. The end of the runway was marked by a gigantic crater. There was still room to land or take off if necessary, but overshooting the landing would be fatal. The middle barracks looked to be completely destroyed, with its front gone and interior exposed like a dollhouse. Two other buildings were damaged as well but still seemed to be relatively intact.

“Where would they go?” Todd asked.

I turned around so that I could see Quinn out of the corner of my eye.

“I don't know,” he said. “That's the only place I'd ever been since the lights went out.”

“They could be anywhere,” Herb said. “I'm assuming they moved to get away from us, so they are probably farther from us and closer to the city. Right now, though, there are more important issues at hand. Adam, get us back home right away.”

I had a terrible thought. “Do you think they've gone to attack the neighborhood?”

“I think they would be fools to do that—and they're not fools. They're on the run,” Herb said.

“But why are we rushing back to the neighborhood?”

“I want to get an away team together as soon as possible. We're going to go back to the compound and do what we should have done the first time. Rip it apart, burn it down, and make sure they never have a place to return to.”

 

6

I handed Lori a tray and a plate and we joined the end of the line waiting to be served. We were part of the second supper shift—there would be about four hundred of us who were getting our turn to have dinner in the school gym.

It was the first time I'd been in here since the plane … since the shooting. Even though I just wanted to be alone, Lori and Todd had persuaded me to join them tonight and now Todd was nowhere to be seen. I was counting on having at least two friendly faces with me.

“It's good to see you,” I said.

“Sorry it's not as romantic as it could be under normal circumstances,” Lori said.

“Maybe not romantic but it
is
the best place in town, I guess.”

“I think it's the only place in town.”

“Which is the reason it's the best,” I said. “What are the odds of there being a steak waiting for us at the end of the line?”

“Slim and none and slim has already been eaten. There will be potatoes and carrots, though,” she offered.

“There are always potatoes and carrots. I'm tired of potatoes and even more tired of carrots,” I said, and then instantly felt guilty for complaining.

“Believe it or not, Dad is worried we're not going to yield enough potatoes in the coming months.”

Lori's dad—as the only farmer in the neighborhood—was in charge of deciding what would be planted, harvested, and ultimately eaten, beyond what we could scavenge or procure from whatever stock still remained from the shelves of the grocery store.

“I guess I am impressed with all the ways that they've been making the potatoes,” I said. “Boiled, mashed, baked, fried, and made into soup.”

“I heard they're working on a special potato drink,” Todd said as he came walking up from behind and gave me a slap on the back. “Drink your potatoes or you can't have potatoes for dessert.”

A couple of people in the line in front of us turned and started laughing. Great. Encouragement was the last thing Todd ever needed.

“You could let us have yours if you don't want them,” I said.

“I'm so hungry I'd eat your potatoes and her potatoes and lick the plates if you two would let me,” Todd said.

“Gross,” Lori said.

“I guess we should just feel lucky we have food to complain about,” I said.

“I know. Even though I'm complaining, I'm not complaining,” he said.

I was glad he said that. With so many people going hungry outside our walls, with the limitations we had feeding this many people, we all just had to be grateful for what we had instead of complaining about what we didn't have. I knew he was goofing around just like I had been, but complaining was contagious and we had to make sure not to get caught up in spreading it.

“What time do we leave tomorrow?” Lori asked.

“Early. It's always best to leave early,” I said.

“But not as early as the away teams,” Todd added.

Lori, along with Todd, was going up with me in the plane to provide eyes in the sky for the mission to the compound.

It hadn't taken long for the committee to agree with Herb's plan. They now seemed to see the wisdom in acting fast when he thought they should.

We came up to the first server—her name was Evelyn. She had been a cashier at the grocery store and now she worked as part of the team under the former store manager, Ernie Williams, helping to cook and serve the communal suppers that took place every night.

She greeted each of us by name. Almost everybody knew everybody else nowadays, if not by name then by sight.

One by one, we held out our trays. No surprise, as she gave each of us small portions of stewed greens and mashed potatoes on our plates. But none of us complained, not even my jokey friend.

The committee had heard lots of reports about people hassling the servers and kitchen staff, demanding more food or saying they were being given less than they should be, and even blaming them for the shortages. Hungry people could sometimes be less than reasonable, and most people here were at least a little hungry most of the time.

“Thanks so much,” Lori said with a smile.

“I wish I could give more to everybody,” Evelyn said.

“I guess it can be hard sometimes, dealing with all the complaints,” I said.

Evelyn shrugged. “It's nothing compared to the people who have to go outside the walls. Here it's just words I have to dodge, but out there it's other things. Adam, you'll be out tomorrow, right?”

I nodded.

“And you two?”

“All three of us,” Todd said.

“Well, I'll say a special prayer for each of you tonight.”

“We appreciate the thought almost as much as the food,” Lori said.

My attention was caught by raised voices. I turned and scanned the room to try to find the source. There were just people sitting at tables eating—and then two guys at a table in the far corner jumped to their feet and began yelling at each other even more loudly.

Somebody was going to have to do something. Arguments could quickly become fights, and with all the weapons floating around, those fights always had the potential to turn deadly. I looked around for my mother or father or Herb or Howie, but they were nowhere to be seen. Did that mean I had to do something?

Just then, out of nowhere, Ernie came running across the gym. That was a relief. Ernie could take care of it. This was his part of the world and he was in charge.

In a moment, Ernie inserted himself between the two men.

I knew both of the guys—Kevin and Paul. Kevin lived two streets over from me, and Paul and his wife and kids had been invited into the neighborhood because he was a mechanic and his skills were needed. They both were okay people, so I was sure Ernie would be able to sort it out.