A Hole in the Sky (31 page)

“Who had started to turn,” Susan stated flatly.

Kawecki looked at her and frowned. “Excuse me! But who the hell are
you
?”

“My name is Susan Farley. I’m Nathan Hale’s sister
and
Joseph Capelli’s wife.”

A look of astonishment appeared on Kawecki’s face. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

“Which brings us to you,” Capelli put in. “Is that uniform for real?”

“The simple answer is yes,” Potter replied sternly. “The President of the United States sent Captain Kawecki and his men here. And we are citizens. So regardless of what took place in the past, you will find a way to get along with these soldiers or leave Haven. Is that clear?”

Capelli nodded. “Yes.”

“Good. That’s enough for tonight. Everyone is tired. We’ll come back together tomorrow.”

Susan took Capelli’s arm. “Come on,” she said gently. “We’re tired, and you’re bleeding.”

Capelli looked at his wife. He knew that when she said, “We’re tired,” she was referring to both herself and the baby. Somehow the past, present, and future had all come together in a single moment of time.

As the Capellis left, Kawecki bent over, retrieved his revolver, and returned the weapon to its holster. It was, he reflected, a very small world.

A strategy session was convened the following day. The entire city council was present, as were Kawecki, his soldiers, and leading members of the community. That included Mel Tilson, his strongest allies, and the Capellis.

Mayor Locke chaired the meeting. The first hour was spent listening to an off-the-cuff presentation by Kawecki, who brought the group up to date regarding the attack on Freedom Base One, the subsequent trek to Freedom Base Two, and the status of the Hale vaccine.

Capelli looked at Susan when Hale’s name was mentioned. She was clearly determined to keep it together, but he saw a tear trickle down her cheek, and was reminded of the way she had been willing to kill for him the night before. Love, he decided, is a very complicated thing.

“So,” Kawecki said, as his talk wound down. “My men and I were sent here to do something about Judge Ramsey. The problem is that we lack the manpower required to get the job done by ourselves. So I figured that communities like this one might be willing to lend a hand. Because if you don’t fight the bastard off, he’ll take over. Either by bribing people with stolen Hale vaccine or by force of arms.”

That led to a short presentation by Terri, who reminded those present of the fact that the community had already voted to reject Ramsey’s proposal. “And,” she said, “thanks to the Capellis, Mr. Tilson, and all the other members of the party that risked their lives to reach the
Suzy Q
, we are much better armed than we used to be.

“Not only that,” she continued, “we have what may be a very important ally in the Osage nation. They are going to consider a formal relationship—and we hope to hear from them during the next couple of days. In the meantime, I think I speak for the entire city council when I say that we not only have an obligation to cooperate with Captain Kawecki, but it’s in our self-interest to do so.

“I’m going to assemble a delegation that will visit
other communities in the area in an effort to build an alliance strong enough to conquer Tunnel-Through.”

Though not entirely unexpected by some members of the audience, the notion that Haven should switch from defense to offense was new to others, and a moment of silence followed. Mel Tilson was taking copious notes. Things were moving quickly—and Judge Ramsey would want to know.

The delegation sent out to visit the surrounding communities consisted of Mayor Locke, Capelli, Kawecki, and six heavily armed security people: three from the community of Haven and three from Kawecki’s contingent of soldiers. They intended to show that at least one group of survivors continued to trust the government in spite of the mistakes that had been made by the preceding Grace administration.

The first community on the list was called Pop-Up. A name inspired by the fact that, like the citizens of Haven, the locals lived underground. But they did not live in a town or the remains of one. Instead each individual, family, or group of families occupied its own underground habitat. Some were very small, some were said to be pretty elaborate, but all had one thing in common: they were located at least half a mile apart. It made for isolated living conditions, but it meant that even if the stinks located one of the homes, the rest could possibly survive.

The area in question was near what had been the town of Kildare. A community so small the Chimeran juggernaut hadn’t even paused on its way through. The complete insignificance of the place was its best defense. Nor did the residents share any common infrastructure other
than a loosely knit co-op–style government that was mainly focused on providing some rudimentary health care and education.

But despite the fact that they were spread out, the people of Pop-Up were known for their volunteer militia, which could field as many as thirty soldiers. And that was a fighting force well worth trying to recruit.

The area was mostly flat and generally open, with groves of skeletal trees, streams that had to be crossed, and scattered homes. All of which were eerily quiet except for the soft whisper of the wind, a flapping blind, or the occasional caw of a crow. Capelli yearned for the sound of a car or the laughter of children in a schoolyard. The sort of background noise he had once taken for granted. But that, like so many other things, had been stolen from humanity.

Their scout was a man named Tom Riley. He had been a mailman back before the stinks came. So he knew the area well, and when Riley raised a hand, the column came to a halt inside a grove of trees. The only sign of a human presence was a fifty-foot-wide circle of wooden stakes. Each was topped with a Hybrid skull, and all of them were staring at a central fire pit. “This is the clearing where the local families meet,” Riley explained. “They have lookouts, so they know we’re here. All we have to do is wait. Somebody will come before darkness falls.”

“Okay,” Terri acknowledged. “What should we do as far as security is concerned?”

There had been very little interaction between Capelli and Kawecki up till that point. But because they had joint responsibility for security they couldn’t ignore each other forever. And while Capelli would have preferred to set up the defensive perimeter by himself, he understood the dangers of a split command. Not to mention the fact that Kawecki’s soldiers wouldn’t take orders
from a civilian. Especially one with his background. So he took the initiative. “I suggest that the rest of us place ourselves under Captain Kawecki’s orders where military matters are concerned.”

Capelli saw a look of surprise appear on Kawecki’s face, followed by what might have been wary respect.

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Terri responded. “Captain? How would you like to position your troops?” The last was delivered with a smile.

Kawecki responded by putting four lookouts in place and cautioning them not to shoot any of the locals. That allowed the rest of the group to build a fire, heat some food, and rest for a while.

Time passed, the light faded, and just as Capelli was beginning to wonder if the locals knew they had visitors, four men and a woman appeared. They were dressed in odd combinations of wool clothing, buckskin, and furs. And they seemed to materialize out of the gloom. That made sense, because anyone who hadn’t mastered all of the various aspects of field craft wasn’t likely to survive for very long.

Once in the glade, and crouched around the fire, Capelli realized something else about the citizens of Pop-Up: They smelled worse than the stinks did. Not too surprising given the lack of running water in their underground burrows. But it was off-putting nevertheless.

If Locke was aware of the odor, she gave no sign of it, as she thanked the locals for coming, and gave them five thousand rounds of ammunition in a variety of calibers. The gift was intended to convey goodwill and attest to Haven’s strength. Once the formalities were out of the way, it didn’t take long to discover that the community had been contacted by a man from Tunnel-Through, who claimed to represent Judge Ramsey and wanted Pop-Up to become part of something called the American Empire.

Pop-Up’s spokesman had long, stringy hair, leathery skin, and eyes that looked like chips of turquoise. The fire lit one side of his face and left the other in darkness. “He called it an ‘invitation,’ ” the man named Moxley added, “but it sounded like an order. So Harvey shot him.”

“What?”
Terri exclaimed. “Just like that?”

Moxley looked surprised. “Sure, why not? Who the hell was he to tell us what to do?”

Kawecki tried to conceal a smile. “Then what happened?”

“There were six of them altogether,” Moxley replied, as vapor drifted away from his mouth. “Only one of them escaped.”

“So Ramsey knows what happened,” Capelli observed. “I reckon he does,” Moxley agreed noncommittally. “And once Ramsey has enough people, they’ll be back,” Kawecki predicted.

“Maybe,” Moxley allowed.

“And maybe not,” Terri put in. “We’re trying to create an alliance for the purpose of attacking Tunnel-Through and destroying it.”

“Sounds good,” a fierce-looking woman said. She was wearing a ratty fur coat and a necklace made out of what might have been Hybrid finger bones. “Let’s kill the bastards.”

“You know what?” Kawecki said, as he pulled a fifth of carefully hoarded whiskey out of his jacket pocket. “I think we should drink to that.”

Having successfully enrolled the citizens of Pop-Up in the alliance, the delegation traveled west towards the sprawling brick factory that had once been a major
source of employment for the area. Because according to Tom Riley, some of the Acme Brick Company’s managers and employees had moved into the factory and were eking out a living there. If so, they were well within Judge Ramsey’s reach and therefore potential allies.

But long before the Brickyard’s chimneys and buildings came into sight, the group saw an ominous column of black smoke rising to point at the sky. “I don’t like the look of that,” Kawecki said grimly, and Capelli had to agree. Suddenly he was glad that Susan had agreed to remain in Haven.

Once the factory’s chimneys and buildings became visible, Kawecki signaled the group to stop while he and Capelli elbowed their way onto a rise where they could examine the facility through their binoculars. Huge piles of finished bricks obscured the source of the smoke.

But Capelli knew that whatever had caused the fire couldn’t be good. Because if humans had been living in the factory they would try to avoid bringing attention to themselves.

“It’s my guess that they were clobbered,” Kawecki said darkly, lowering his glasses. “I reckon somebody should go forward and take a look.”

Capelli turned to meet Kawecki’s gaze. “Me?”

“If you’re willing.”

“So the stinks will do the dirty work for you?”

“No,” Kawecki answered levelly. “Because you’re the person Hale would have chosen for the job. The man he could count on.”

It was a peace offering of sorts, and Capelli surprised himself by accepting it. The truth was that he cared what the Kaweckis of the world thought of him. Even if that was stupid. “Give me your radio.”

Kawecki did so, and once the device was secured, Capelli made his way forward. A rusty fence barred his way. But after following the barrier north he came to a
ragged hole, bright metal, and what he knew to be Stalker tracks in the patchy snow.

He paused to listen for a moment and then entered the inner compound. Huge stacks of red bricks formed a maze that had to be negotiated before Capelli could see the source of the smoke. The brick buildings were intact. But lesser structures were made of wood and one of them was on fire. Capelli could hear the crackle of flames and smell the tangy smoke. He could also see scorch marks, cratered concrete, and a scattering of bodies.

Capelli advanced with his rifle at the ready. The first corpse he came across was that of a Hybrid. Its body had been riddled with bullets. But there was no snow on the body, no signs of bloating, or damage from scavengers. A relatively recent kill, then. Probably no more than twelve hours old. That was one of the many things that made stinks different from humans: They never bothered to bury their dead. Even when they won.

And there were humans, too: a mélange of men, women, and children. All clustered around four fully loaded carts. Some of the bodies had been partially eaten. Not by crows or vultures, but by the Chimera. Other bodies were untouched. It was sickening. Capelli had seen such sights before but never got used to them.

He had the radio out, and was about to press the transmit button, when one of the bodies groaned. Capelli went over to kneel next to the woman. She’d been hit in the abdomen and the front of her shirt was wet with blood.

“Carl? Is that you?”

“No,” Capelli said gently. “My name is Joe.”

The woman blinked repeatedly as his body blocked her view of the gray sky. “Is Carl dead?”

Capelli looked around. The smoke eddied, but everything else was still. “Yes.”

“Good. He isn’t in pain then.”

“No.”

“I’m thirsty. Very thirsty. Could I have a drink?”

The water wouldn’t be good for her. Capelli knew that. And he knew it wouldn’t matter as he freed the canteen, unscrewed the cap, and cradled the back of her head. She got some of the liquid down; the rest ran off her cheeks onto the ground. She coughed. “We were going to move … Going to be safe.”

“I’m sorry,” Capelli replied lamely. “Where were you headed?”

But there was no answer. Just a blank stare. The woman was dead.

Capelli closed her eyes and lowered her head to the ground. After thinking about it for a moment, he drew his knife. The cloth parted easily as the razor-sharp blade sliced through it. His suspicions confirmed, he went over to examine another body.

Capelli put the radio to his lips. There was no point in using military radio procedure. “This is Capelli.”