After: Red Scare (AFTER post-apocalyptic series, Book 5) (9 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Will Daddy be mad that we left?” Marina asked.

Rosa didn’t want to think of Jorge. She’d been raised to obey her husband, although her own father didn’t stay around for long when she was a child. They’d shared a dream of coming to America and making a good life for their family. But that was a dream for the past.

The New People offered a better dream.

“No, Daddy wants us to be safe and happy, right?” she said to her daughter.

To her new son, Bryan, she added, “And we’re all safe here.”

The Pulliam County Jail was a squat concrete building sitting at the foot of the courthouse hill. It had avoided most of the damage of the fire, being on the opposite side of the hill from the high school. The facility was elevated enough to provide a view of downtown Newton, where dawn revealed a strip of smoldering buildings to the west of town.

The fire had spread south, clearing a swathe of forest, but hadn’t leaped the river and was busy burning the last of its available fuel. The destruction it created served as a fire line, and with nowhere left to spread, the conflagration dwindled to scattered blazes whose smoke gave the early daylight a grayish sheen.

“Plenty of room here for us,” Bryan said, propped in a high-backed chair and held sitting upright by several pillows and blankets taken from the cells. They’d settled into the sheriff’s office, which featured two windows and a glass cabinet housing a menagerie of seized drug paraphernalia, law-enforcement awards, and sports trophies. “This will serve as an excellent headquarters while we regroup.”

“Soon the others will join us,” Joey said. Like Bryan, he sat upright in a swivel chair pushed up to a dusty metal desk, snuggled into his mother’s lap.

“I can’t believe everyone else abandoned you,” Cathy said. “They left you to die.”

“Their fear is understandable,” Bryan said. “We harbor no anger toward your kind. And none of the carriers betrayed us.”

“Except Rachel Wheeler,” Father Casey’s baby said. The priest held his baby high so that it could see over the top of the desk.

Rachel’s arrival coincided with the military attack, and some of the babies suspected her of treachery. The debate about her occupied much of the night, and Rosa sat quietly and listened. She’d changed several diapers and given Father Casey’s baby her breast, which had earned the respect and gratitude of the entire group—except Marina, who’d been sent to take a nap on one of the cell cots and was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Rosa was weary herself, but she wanted to help in any way possible. After Jorge threatened to use the babies as hostages, she’d hidden her revulsion as best she could. The man she’d married, left her home country with, and born a child for turned out to be a heartless monster. Worse, he risked their future—not just his family’s, but the whole human race’s.

If we don’t help them, how can they help us? How can he not see that?

Pride, that was why.

One of the seven deadly sins.

She’d have to ask Father Casey about it, and maybe have him pray for Jorge.

“Rachel taught us much, even though she doesn’t know it,” Bryan said. “We know how humans think and feel. We can learn.”

“Feelings aren’t facts,” Father Casey said. His kind and gentle eyes were bloodshot but, like Rosa, he pushed himself to the limit to be of service. “You can’t just imitate them and expect to understand humans.”

“Oh, but we must,” his baby said. “It’s the only reason left not to kill them all. Because they are scared.”

“You know our history,” Rosa said. “The books don’t tell the whole story, but humans have killed one another since the very beginning.”

“What does your oldest history tell us, Father?” Joey asked. “That man was born into sin, Eve disobeyed God and deceived her husband, and Cain slew his brother Abel. Not a very auspicious start, I would say. I don’t see how we could do worse.”

“But we have a chance for redemption,” Father Casey said. “The message of all our major religions is to love one another and place our trust in a force greater than us all.”

“And what if
we
are that force?” Bryan said. “What if the solar storms and the resultant change was not a natural phenomenon but a supernatural one? What if we are God’s promise being delivered right in your very lifetime?”

“Many would say you’re a force of evil,” Father Casey said. “Men have prophesized doomsday as long as we’ve had language. The Book of Revelation is the most popular part of the Holy Bible, although understandably people tend to quote the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ more.”

“A tale of redemption, yes,” his baby said, obviously having listened to the father more than the other babies had. “And what could be more human than desiring someone else to pay for their sins? That grants them a free ride to commit whatever atrocities they wish. Which is why you have no problem slaughtering our tribe.”

“Not all of us are like that,” Rosa interjected. “Some of us want to live in harmony.”

Bryan flashed his gummy grin at her. “If only there were more like you, then that might be possible.”

“The bible doesn’t carry that message anywhere,” Father Casey’s baby said. “It says ‘Accept us or face punishment.’ It says your god is a jealous god, and ‘Live by the sword, die by the sword’ and ‘An eye for an eye.’ Violence, hatred, intolerance, suspicion, and fear have been the story of your race. Why are you so afraid to try a new way?”

“Fear is the
only
story of our race,” Father Casey said. “And because you’re the Other, and we always kill the Other—”

“Enough!” Joey said, his shrill voice silencing the others. “This isn’t the Council of Nicaea. We don’t have to sell our beliefs. We only have to enforce our beliefs.”

Rosa was shocked. The babies had always been of a singular mind, connected so that one’s knowledge was passed to the next, which was part of their incredible evolution. As the babies became more sophisticated, though, she’d noticed differences among them—not just in their actions but in their words and ideas.

Even though they still sought the same goal—the unification of their tribe, the conversion of the humans, and ultimately the restoration and healing of the dead—they now expressed competing routes to achieve those outcomes.

“So how should we proceed?” Bryan asked, in a quieter, guarded tone. Rosa wanted to encourage him, but she thought it best not to interfere. Children should solve problems on their own.

While the three babies discussed the organizing of the tribe, Rosa went to the lobby and looked out over the town. The New People were busy collecting the dead and carrying them to the hospital in a building complex on the main highway out of town. The three-story structure of brick and glass would hold plenty of bodies until the babies mastered their full powers and revived them.

At that time, all the silly divisions between human and mutant would dissolve, and Jorge and the others would see what was right.

Marina came to her side, handing her a Dr. Pepper and bag of onion rings taken from vending machines in the break room. “Here, Momma,” she said. “You need to keep up your strength.”

Rosa gave her a smile and brushed her black hair behind one ear. The strands were tangled and greasy. “
Gracias
, honey. You’re going to need a bath soon.”

“Maybe it will rain.”

“And you’ll dance in it like you did on the Wilcox farm?”

Marina’s face darkened. “I miss our home. My art supplies and my clothes and my books. Will we ever be able to go back?”

“We don’t know what the New People have in store for us, honey. We just have to pray that things will work out for the best.”

“But do I pray to God, or do I pray to
them
?” She tilted her head toward the sheriff’s office.

God help me, I don’t know.

“You shouldn’t worry.” Rosa opened the bag of onion rings and handed one to Marina.

Her daughter smelled it and said, “Yuck.” But she took a nibble, and then crunched hungrily.

The snack food was stale and oily, but they ate the entire bag. Marina looked out the window as they shared the soda. “I wonder where Daddy is right now.”

Maybe dead. But that’s probably for the best. Because soon he will be new.

“He will find us when the time is right.” Rosa pointed to a street below, where a couple of mutants dragged a body behind them. “Don’t you see that we had to leave the café?”

The real threat had been Jorge and Wanda, not the mutants, but how could she explain that to her daughter? The babies couldn’t just wait around and be killed. The tribe was counting on them. Marina had endured enough in the
apocalipsis
without discovering her father was part of the problem rather than the solution.

“But he doesn’t know where we are,” Marina said. “We’re not like Zapheads. We have to see and think and talk.”

“Don’t call them ‘Zapheads,’ honey. They’re New People.”

Marina’s eyes welled with tears. “I want Daddy.”

Rosa wrapped her in a hug. “I do, too, honey.”

I want him to join us.

Then it came to her. She didn’t need to be apart. Neither did Marina. She almost laughed with delight.

She kissed Marina, whose nose wrinkled. “Shoo. Your breath stinks, Mommy.”

“I know how to make everything better,” Rosa said. She took Marina’s hand and said, “Come with me.”

When they entered the sheriff’s office, Father Casey’s baby was explaining how they would gather all the dead New People before collecting the humans. Bryan noticed Rosa’s rapt expression and asked her what she wanted.

My bright-eyed boy. ALL my boys.

“You wanted Rachel Wheeler because you needed someone who was part human,” she said. “I know she was the first of us, but she’s resisting the call. She’ll never join you or help you. She belongs to them.”

“She’ll return to us,” Bryan said. “I can sense her even now. She’s somewhere here in Newton.”

“But why wait for her return? If you want to fully understand humans, take one.” Rosa stepped forward, turning up her palms as if willing to take nails in them. “Take me.”

The three babies looked at one another, their eyes like lava in the dawn. They didn’t speak for a moment, but some sort of silent conversation was taking place.

Before they could answer, Rosa pulled Marina forward. “Her, too. The newer, the better, right?”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“So we shall be as one,” Rachel said. “Simple as that.”

“Damn,” Franklin said. “Nuclear annihilation would be a better ending. At least then the alien archaeologists of the future would just find a thin layer of irradiated plastic, the only proof of our stupidity. But you’re talking about sitting around singing a zombie ‘Kumbaya’ until the end of time.”

“It’s impossible to explain,” Rachel said. “All we have are words, and the New People are beyond words.”

“They’ll always be Zappers to me,” Franklin said.

“I don’t think that’s important right now,” Brock said to Rachel. “Tell us their weaknesses. What they’re afraid of, where they’re setting up shop, anything we can exploit.”

Rachel didn’t like being put on the spot. She was still shaken from her rescue last night, and she had slept poorly on a couch in one of the nearby houses. DeVontay slept on the floor beside her, bundled under old coats, but the cold never quite left them. Even sitting at the fire now, along with Brock and several members of his crew, she shivered and ached.

Maybe I’m really sick. The mutation could be a type of virus, or even a cancer.

She laughed at the idea. The only doctors around were the Zapheads, and she’d already taken their cure once.

“What’s so funny?” DeVontay said. He held a stick over the fire from which a skinned squirrel dangled. Franklin and Sierra had gone hunting just before daybreak and bagged some wild game. Sierra gnawed at a rabbit leg, her lips shiny with grease. Franklin tended a simmering pot containing a gray concoction he called “bunny gumbo,” and Brock picked his teeth with a small clavicle before tossing the bone in the fire.

“I feel like a double spy,” Rachel said. “The Zapheads want me to tell them what it’s like to be human, and you guys want me to tell you what it’s like to be mutant.”

Although the mutants were far enough away that they didn’t flood her thoughts, she could sense their presence. They were like an itch that was pleasant to scratch but only ended up itching more.

“Ease your mind,” Franklin said. “You’re with us now, and that’s where you belong.”

DeVontay took her hand, and that made her feel better. His touch was grounding when all the rest of her wanted to disintegrate and float away in the December air.

“I don’t have any hatred of them,” Rachel said. “I can’t help you kill them.”

“Damn it, this isn’t about keeping a clean conscience,” Brock said. “This is about saving the human race.”

“Back off.” DeVontay glared at Brock, whose hands tightened around his gunstock as if he wanted to wring DeVontay’s neck instead. “We got business elsewhere. It doesn’t even matter what happens in Newton when there’s a thousand Zaphead tribes around the world. It’s like the Hydra of Greek mythology, you chop off one head and two more spring up in its place.”

“Where did you learn about the Hydra?” Franklin asked with a mixture of admiration and surprise.

“Even North Philly got books.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Just that people of your…uh,
generation
…tend to avoid the classics.”

“Save the coffee-shop bullshit for after we’ve saved the world,” Brock said. “Right now we need a game plan.”

“I thought you had one,” Franklin said. “Bait the Zaps out into the open and then mow them down.”

Rachel winced at the bluntness of the imagery. They couldn’t understand the mutants were innocent—following their nature the same as the rabbits and squirrels did. DeVontay reeled in his stick and pulled a sinewy strip of meat, sniffed it, and stuffed it into his mouth.

Maybe that’s not the best metaphor.

“That’s not a plan,” Brock said. “That’s a wish. If we’re lucky, we can knock off a hundred that way, but what about the rest? At some point, we’re going to have to roll into town and flush them out like rats. But we need to know where they’re holed up. So what’s the deal, Rachel?”

The faster she was done here, the sooner she and DeVontay could head out in search of Stephen. She wondered if Franklin would go with them, or whether he would stay here and join Brock’s mission. Her grandfather was notoriously antisocial, but he also saw this as a final world war, one in which neither side would take prisoners.

“The brain trust is in the jail, just below where the courthouse used to be.” She pointed to indicate the direction, although the hill was hidden by the houses and trees. Skeins of smoke rose from the ruins. “The carriers are taking all the babies there now. The other mutants will be in the hospital, the Wal-Mart, and the Home Depot, which are all in the same business strip along the main road.”

“You sure?” Sierra asked. “Because we’re probably only going to get one chance at this.”

“I’m not sure of anything. But that’s what I believe.”

“If only we had some heavy artillery,” Brock said. “Any chance this Sgt. Shipley guy will team up with us? We have some inside info and a few dozen armed volunteers. Surely he’d welcome the help.”

“No dice,” Franklin said. “You don’t understand. In his world, he’s Captain America, the Zapheads are Hitler, and we’re Stalin. He’s on a holy mission, the only hope for salvation. You think the Zappers are destructive, you haven’t seen Shipley in action.”

“I did,” Rachel said. “His soldiers shot everything that moved. They didn’t care who was a mutant and who was a human. I’m surprised any of us made it out alive.”

“They’re desperate,” DeVontay said, still working on his hunk of squirrel. “That was pretty much a suicide mission. Those troops had to know they wouldn’t get out alive.”

“Then the Zaps have their guns,” Sierra said. “Including grenade launchers. And anything else they might have discovered. There’s enough ordnance in your average Wal-Mart to wipe out an entire town. But do they know how to use them?”

“They
know
,” Rachel said. “But that doesn’t mean they will.”

“Willow told me they use guns to show us that guns are wrong,” DeVontay said. After a few seconds of silence, he realized they had no idea what he was talking about.

“Willow was my baby,” he said, sheepish. “I mean, I was her carrier. She helped me find Rachel.”

Brock snorted. “Then maybe you’re a spy, too. And you know what happens to spies, right?”

“Knock it off,” Sierra said. “If we start turning on each other, we’ll save the Zaps the trouble of wiping us off the map.”

“Lighten up, hon,” Brock said. “Anything else you two lovebirds learn while you were skin surfing with those freaks?”

“Just what we already knew,” DeVontay said. “The harder you hit them, the harder they hit back. We’re still teaching them with our actions. So I’m not sure getting good at killing them is the best approach.”

“So, we just lay down our weapons and head home?” Franklin said. “I already tried that. And guess what? The Zappers still came for me. For all of us.”

No, they came for ME.

Although DeVontay knew the truth, he covered for Rachel. “They came because of Shipley. They knew he was threat, just like they know we’re a threat. They might be sitting around their own campfire right now and talking about how hard they need to hit us.”

Brock wagged a finger in the air. “Wait, wait, wait. You said the jail was their headquarters, right?”

“Yeah,” Rachel said. “The babies are summoning all the other babies. Their link can only travel so far. That’s why they gather in regional tribes instead of one huge hive. So if the babies are closer together, they can better communicate with the other tribe members.”

“And when are these babies going to be together?”

“They’re all heading that way now, as far as I can tell.” She glanced at DeVontay. “Some of them had to find new carriers.”

“That’s what really burns my ass,” Franklin said. “How these humans can care for these things. Traitors to their kind.”

“It sounds bad if you put it like that,” DeVontay said. “But once you hold one, and look into its eyes, and it talks to you…a baby that’s smart and can
talk
.”

“God damn, Rachel, I hope you don’t breed with this guy.” Franklin took his bunny gumbo off its crotch of hot stones and stuck in a finger to test the temperature. He licked and nodded in approval. “Don’t know what this mess is supposed to taste like, but I’m calling it breakfast.”

Brock stood up and paced back and forth, tapping his hand against the barrel of his gun. “It’s coming to me. That Hydra thing.”

“What about it?” Sierra said. “We’re making up mythology here?”

“That thing with the head. How many of these babies are there, Rachel?”

“Only nine are still alive after last night.”

“This shit’s mystical. So nine babies, and Hydra had nine heads, right?”

“Well, some versions claim nine heads,” DeVontay said. “But there are many permutations of the—”

“And that beast from Revelations, that one that slouches toward Bethlehem and shit? It has nine heads, too, right?”

“Seven,” Rachel said. “But that’s generally believed to represent seven nations or governments rising out of the sea of humanity to—”

Brock waved her off. “Never mind. The Hydra thing. You cut off one, and two grow back in its place. But
what if you cut every one of the fucking heads off at once?
”

Brock slapped his hands together like he’d just discovered the last digit of
pi
. The only sound was the crackling of the fire and Franklin slurping his gumbo straight out of the pot, a trail of it leaking down his gray-and-black beard.

“Kill the head and the body dies, am I right?” Brock held out his arms as if waiting for applause.

Sierra nodded. “You might just have something there. A concentrated assault designed to wipe out their command structure.”

“But these are babies!” Rachel said. “And their carriers will be with them.
Human
carriers.”

Brock smirked. “So?”

“It’s worth a try,” Sierra said. “Certainly easier than exterminating hundreds of Zapheads one at a time. Without the smart ones, maybe they’ll become helpless.”

“One other possibility,” Franklin said, smacking his lips as if he’d just eaten a four-course meal at a five-star restaurant. “We kill the babies and the Zapheads go back to what they were before, right after the solar storms when they hunted us down and tore us apart like we were made out of tissue paper.”

This time the silence stretched for a good ten seconds.

“That’s a possibility,” Rachel said.