Deadlocked 8 (30 page)

Ben pulled the makeshift door open to reveal
a hollow tube within wide enough for two or three people to stand
in. There were ropes hanging down, attached to a large plastic
crate. Ben pulled at the rope, causing a pulley high above to
squeak.

“This must’ve been how they carried up
supplies.”

“Smart,” I said as I glanced up through the
tall, hollow tube. “Think we have time to go up and check
inside?”

“Maybe,” said Ben as he looked back at the
Jeep. “I could hear the Greys in the neighborhood. It won’t take
them long to sniff us out.” He leaned his head into the center
spire and whistled sharp and loud, then shouted, “Hello?”

His voice echoed inside the tower, sounding
tinny and distant from where I stood. We waited for a response, but
didn’t get one.

“You stay here,” I said. “Keep an eye out for
Greys. I’ll climb the ladder and see what’s inside. If you see
Greys, just whistle up at me.”

“Okay,” said Ben before he kissed my cheek.
“Be careful.”

“Always.” I slapped his butt before heading
over to the ladder. I looked up at how high the catwalk that the
ladder led to was and then realized that I wouldn’t likely have a
better vantage of the area than this, so I jogged over to the Jeep
to retrieve my binoculars and then came back.

The climb was more arduous than I expected,
and there were no safety measures taken to keep someone from
falling off until I was already twenty feet high. At that point the
ladder was surrounded by a feeble cage, which wouldn’t do much more
than bounce you around if you actually started to fall.

I made it to the catwalk and hoisted myself
up before taking a moment to catch my breath and look out over the
area. The vantage was stunning, and revealed far more of the space
than I’d expected. This area was surprisingly flat, even though it
was tucked up against the foothills. I could see out across the
golden fields that defined the arid land that stretched away from
the Rocky Mountains all the way to a curving horizon. The swathe of
a ruined world was stunning, and while it was beautiful to me, it
would certainly depress someone who’d spent the majority of their
life in the Green days. This was my world, the Red world, and those
of us that lived in it had learned to appreciate a different sort
of beauty.

There were no signs of Greys on the path that
led up here, but I still wanted to hurry to avoid any unnecessary
risks. The catwalk led around the entire circumference of the
fattest portion of the tower, but I didn’t need to follow it more
than a few feet before I found the entrance to this abode. Another
door similar to the one below was carved out of the side, and I
tugged on the rope gently to ease it open. The hinges had been kept
well-oiled to prevent them from squealing, and I was surprised to
discover that there was a good amount of light within the tower. It
wasn’t a massive, hollow bubble like I’d expected. Instead, a
wooden floor had been built, and walls erected to create rooms.
There were plastic panels on the ceiling that let natural light in,
and there were several plants inside, flourishing in their pots far
better than the brown, dead weeds that covered the land outside.
The pulley system must’ve been below, hidden beneath the floor I
was standing on, and I wondered if there was a storage area down
there. It was far warmer inside than out, a result of the windows
above, and I wondered if this place got stifling in the summer or
if they’d devised some sort of way to cool it down.

“Hello?” I called, and got no reply.

A nylon rope hung down from the center, just
over a porcelain, clawed tub that dominated the middle of this
space, and I gazed up to see what it was attached to. There was a
latch in the center of the ceiling that the rope could open, and I
realized that this was a chimney of sorts, allowing them to light a
fire in a tub. I walked over and glanced in to confirm my suspicion
and saw that the tub was filled with ash and black streaks from a
recent fire.

Cloth doors provided separation and privacy
to the residents that lived here. There were four rooms, but the
first that I entered wasn’t meant to sleep in. It was a lavatory,
if you could call it that, with buckets set out, each filled to a
varying degree. I cringed as the smell hit me, and then backed out
and closed the curtain.

I called out again, adding, “I’m here to
help. I’m a friend of Harrison’s.”

Still no answer.

I inspected one of the rooms, pulling aside
the curtain to peer inside, and saw something that I was afraid I’d
find. There were syringes in here, their canisters blackened from
reuse, spoons with burned ends and sticky residue, and rubber tubes
that had been stolen from medical supplies to help Harrison’s
friends shoot up. I sighed and closed the curtain, my suspicions
confirmed.

“Goddamn it, Harry.”

Truth and fiction always swirled themselves
around everything that Harrison ever said, and I’d been suspicious
of his tale about this place ever since I’d heard it. While he
insisted the people here were disabled and needed his help, I don’t
think his definition of ‘disabled’ was the same as mine.

I searched the other rooms, and found similar
paraphernalia there as well. Drugs weren’t tolerated in the
settlements that had been in this area. It wasn’t because of a lack
of compassion, but rather the necessity that every member of a town
contribute in some fashion. While certain activities could be
ignored, some addicts had to be shunned. Harrison and his friends
had traveled here, and used this tower as a place to fall back on
when their addictions got the better of them. While Harrison was
certainly one of the more productive members of this group, and was
probably responsible for bringing them the food they needed to stay
alive, I’m certain he spent his fair share of days or weeks laying
on one of the dirty mattresses here, dazed and drugged.

There was one level below where I was, and I
wanted to check it out before leaving. This was where the
pulley-system was located, and where the group kept their supplies.
It was a small space, with a low ceiling, and I was nearly content
leaving without checking each box when I heard a creak come from
nearby. I pointed my pistol and flashlight over to the corner, and
saw netting that had been torn away from the wall. It looked like
the soldiers had searched this room, and torn up most of the boxes
here, spreading the meager supplies out over the floor. I spied the
netting, which looked like it had been stolen from a children’s
park, perhaps to be used as bedding.

“Someone there?” I asked. “You’d better tell
me if you are. I didn’t come here to kill you or steal anything.
I’m with the Rollers.” I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing to
say or not. It was likely that the group that stayed here hated the
High Rollers even more than the zombies. “I’m Harrison’s friend. He
sent me here.”

A hand rose from the debris that crowded the
corner, just to the side of the netting. I shined my light on the
person hiding there, and saw a dirty man, probably in his thirties
or forties, with dreadlocks and gaunt cheeks. His wide eyes stared
out at me, and I realized that he’d been hiding beneath a tangle of
rope and netting, somehow managing to evade capture.

“Harry sent you?” asked the man, revealing
his rotted teeth in the process.

“Yes, I’m a friend. My name’s Annie.” I
reached out my hand to help him up, but he stayed where he was,
trembling and with pupils that were just pinpricks of black in his
bright blue eyes. He was high.

“You’re a…” he swallowed hard. “You’re a
Roller?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt
you.”

“Where’d you guys go? You guys all went away.
You guys all left us. Everyone’s dead. Vineyard, Juniper, Hanger,
they’re all dead.”

“I know,” I said as I knelt down and shined
my light at the ceiling instead of directly at the stranger. “The
military got to them.”

“They got here too,” said the man with a
sudden burst of excitement. He pointed up, and then all around at
the mess they’d made in the supply room. “They did this. They came
here and did all this and took everyone else. They took them and I
wanted to stop them, but I couldn’t.”

“You’re lucky they didn’t find you,” I said
as I looked around the thoroughly searched area.

“Oh, I wasn’t here then. I was outside,
watching and listening from the trees. I came in here after.”

“You came in here afterward?” I asked as I
considered his story. “To get high? After your friends got taken,
you came in here to get high?” I couldn’t hide my contempt.

He recognized my distaste and scowled as he
said, “It was your damn fault. It was you they were looking for.
They thought we were you!”

“Me?”

“Yeah, they wanted the High Rollers. They
asked about someone named Laura. She’s one of you.” He jabbed his
finger in my direction, as if the accusation pleased him. “And they
said they had a guy named Levon; said they had him already.”

“Levon?” I asked, startled. “He said they
have Levon?”

He nodded.

“What else did they say?”

“That’s it,” said the frightened man.

“Did they say where they had Levon? Did they
have him at the airport?”

“I don’t know.”

I was going to ask something else, but then I
heard Ben’s distinctive whistle echo through the tube nearby. I
scrambled over to the opening of the shaft, which was protected by
a round rail that prevented someone from simply falling in, and
shined my light down. Ben was looking up and held up four fingers
before pointing out in the direction of the road that led up to the
water tower.

I decided that going back to the ladder would
be a waste of time, and looked at the pulley system they’d devised
here to see if I could use it instead. I found the locking
mechanism on the pulley and latched it, securing the rope and
guaranteeing I wouldn’t fall if I used the rope for support.

“Are they coming back?” asked the dirty man
in the debris behind me. “Should I keep hiding here?”

I didn’t give a shit what he did. “Sure, keep
hiding.”

The rope would provide a good and quick exit,
but I took a moment to slip on a pair of gloves first to avoid
burning my palms. Then I saddled the edge of the railing and
dropped slowly down, setting my feet against the edge as I lowered
myself as quickly as I could manage. Ben was there to catch me at
the bottom.

“Find anything?” asked Ben.

Part of me wanted to tell him exactly what I
found, and about how Harrison had been lying about the real reason
he wanted to come back here. I wanted to tell Ben that Harrison was
an addict, and that he hadn’t kicked his habit like he claimed, but
was instead hoping we’d deliver him here so that he could binge
with his friends and fall into a stupor for as long as the drugs
lasted.

“There’s a guy up there that says the
military was looking for us. He said they’ve got Hero.”

Ben glanced up the tube and asked, “You’re
kidding? Should we take that guy with us?”

“No, no,” I said, eager to hide the fact that
the only reason Harrison wanted to come here was to get high. “He’s
fine up there.”

“There’s no blood out here,” said Ben. “Lots
of footprints though. I think they loaded them into trucks and took
them.”

I looked around and asked, “Are there any
Greys coming?”

“No, not yet. That’s not why I whistled for
you.”

“What’s up then?” I asked.

He pointed up and I looked out into the blue
sky, confused. Then he explained, “There was a drone.”

“A what?”

“A military drone in the sky. It zipped over
here. At first I thought it was a bird, but then I heard its
motor.”

I didn’t know what to think, and I furrowed
my brow as I asked, “They have drones?”

Ben nodded and said, “Apparently. I’ve never
seen them before, but I know what they are. I read all about them
in some of the Red magazines. The military had a ton of them, and
were using them to spy on other countries. I guess it was just a
matter of time before they used them to try and find us.”

They were looking for mom. I’d thought Ben
was the one that Jerald wanted, and by association it made sense
that the military would be looking for the Rollers, but why did the
man in the tower say that they asked about a woman named Laura?

“Ben, we’ve got to get back home.”

Ben Watanabe

“What? Why?” I was dumbstruck.

“They’re going to be moving,” said Annie with
a distant gaze, deep in thought. Then she turned to me, as if
snapping back to reality. “The Rollers are moving supplies to the
new settlement. If they had drones out looking for movement, then
they might see the trucks moving out. We’ve got to get back there
and warn them that they need to hide.”

“What about Hero?” I asked.

“We can tell the Rollers,” she said. “They
can decide what to do next, but we have to warn them about the
drones. If Jerald came out here and collected these people, then
it’s not going to take him long to find the Rollers.”

She was already moving to the Jeep, and I
jogged to catch up. We both saw a Grey on the road behind the Jeep
staggering its way up the hill. It was an emaciated specimen, with
only a few strands of hair still clinging to its grey scalp, and a
dislocated lower jaw that trembled with excitement as the creature
tried to moan in hunger. The Grey quickened its pace, but was still
several yards behind the Jeep.

Annie went to the driver’s side, but I still
had the keys. “I’ll drive,” I said and she didn’t argue. She ran
around to the other side and I got in fast to start the Jeep before
our visitor had a chance to get to us. Seconds later I was smashing
into the zombie in reverse, sending the corpse spinning through the
air as I turned around to head down the hill. Other Greys were
following in their friend’s footsteps, coming up the hill with
their arms outstretched and their mouths open wide. I normally try
to drive around zombies, because smashing your way through them has
a bad tendency to get bits and pieces stuck up in the undercarriage
of a vehicle. This time, however, I plowed straight through them
because of the narrow path, sending the monsters bouncing off our
hood and crunching beneath the tires.