Generation M (8 page)

Chandra’s voice sounded far away.

Suddenly, Lisette felt something hard between her lip and gum. The tip of her tongue found an open gap. Her tooth had fallen out.

The butterscotch candy had dissolved on Abby’s tongue a lifetime ago.

In the back seat of the getaway car, she hugged her knees to her chest. The stabbing pain in the pit of her stomach faded and a new ache flared across her back. The pain was like gooey putty. By twisting and bending her torso, or tightening her stomach muscles, she could squeeze it to a new location, but it never went away. The good news was that she was running out of body parts that could hurt.

She checked the time. Lexi had been gone for nearly two hours, and Abby feared the worst: the girl had disappeared with the fish.

She remembered Lexi saying that Toby had stockpiled food and gasoline in the trunk. Abby lifted her head above the seat to peer out the back window. With nobody in sight, she crawled into the front seat and pulled the lever on the driver’s side door to pop the trunk. She stepped out of the car and quietly closed the door behind her.

Before opening the trunk, she hobbled to the alley entrance and discovered the street was clear in both directions. Getting their food stolen by some kid infected with the Pig was the last thing she wanted.

Picturing in her mind a trunk packed with a variety of tasty treats, Abby’s mouth watered as she limped back to the car. She lifted the trunk lid and discovered the trunk was empty, except for a balled-up tarp.

Crushed with despair, she grabbed the tarp and flung it, sending a hail of mouse droppings to the ground, and then slammed the trunk shut. She buried her face in her hands.

A cold ache swirled in Abby’s heart as she realized she was on her own. Lexi had lied to her about the food and gas, and probably about everything else too.

She had to make it back to the fish market. Could she find her way? Did she have enough strength to make it that far? The only way to find out was to start walking. She put her hand on the walkie-talkie tucked in her waistband for reassurance.

Suddenly, fingers pinched her shoulder, and her hair stood on end as her adrenaline surged. She shouted and wheeled around, ready to defend herself. The boy had a shaved head and was shorter than her. He wore a hooded sweatshirt. Diamonds studded the outside of one ear.

“Stop it,” he said in a hushed but forceful voice.

His calloused hands gripped her wrists hard, but she pulled her right arm free. She flailed and kicked, and he seemed shocked that someone so sick was fighting back.

He took several steps back and raised his hands as if to surrender. “Abby. Stop it.”

How did he know her name?

She stared at the boy. “Oh my God,” she cried. “Toby.”

Dawson noted the unusual seating arrangement for the emergency meeting of company leaders and command staff. Ordinarily, Navy personnel clustered together in one quadrant of the big round table in the Gregor Mendel conference room, while the scientists sat on the opposite side of the table. Now, Lieutenant Mathews and Doctor Perkins were elbow to elbow, while Doctor Droznin and Doctor Levine perched closer to Dawson, Lieutenant Marks, Lieutenant Masters, and Admiral Samuels.

Dawson worried more than ever about the old man. The parts of his personality that commanded respect were missing. He seemed hollow.

Doctor Perkins glanced at his gold watch and began the meeting at precisely the top of the hour. “Doctor Levine, will you give us a status update on the antibiotic shipment?”

Doctor Levine, a soft-spoken scientist with graying hair, said the jet from Atlanta Colony had landed an hour ago. “The pills will be delivered to Medical Clinic 17.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Doctor Perkins said. “Lieutenant Mathews, will you coordinate the distribution of pills to the companies?”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

Perkins reviewed the antibiotic’s effectiveness. “One dose is typically all that’s required for protection against the bacteria. If someone has contracted AHA-B, they should feel better within a few hours of taking a pill. For others, a second dose will be needed to provide a full cure. We requested enough pills for Generation M to take multiple doses.”

Dawson’s spirits lifted. With the colony having received more doses than it needed, he could skim pills and obtain at least two each for his daughter, Sarah, Abigail Leigh, her brother Jordan, and Toby Jones. Beyond them, every additional pill he acquired for Jonzy to take with him could save the life of a survivor outside the colony.

“Do you wish to add anything Doctor Droznin?” Perkins asked.

Droznin kept her nose buried in her laptop.

Perkins cleared his throat. “Doctor Droznin?”

“Nothing to add,” she replied curtly.

Dawson wondered if the chilly exchange and seating arrangement signaled friction between the two. He disliked the Russian scientist, but he could not deny her toughness. She’d been shot in the knee less than forty-eight hours ago by Cadet Leigh, yet Droznin had hobbled to the meeting on her own steam.

“Are there other questions?” Doctor Perkins asked.

Dawson waved his hand. “Can you share any updates on the plan to distribute pills outside the colonies?”

Dawson had asked the question many times before.

“Generation M is, and will remain, our top priority,” Perkins said. “But I remain deeply concerned about the children who fall outside of our direct care. We’re doing the very best we can in light of the available resources.”

Dawson waded deeper into the quicksand of Doctor Perkins’s lies. “If the plant in Alpharetta is operational, we can manufacture and distribute pills and care for Generation M at the same time.”

Perkins cast his eyes around the table. “Once we’ve completed the evacuation, we can turn our attention to other matters. Lieutenant Mathews will brief you on the next steps of the evacuation plan.”

Mathews smirked at Dawson, a subtle dig that nobody else would have picked it up.

“All companies are moving to Atlanta Colony,” she began. “The evacuation flights will leave tomorrow. Armed convoys will escort the cadets to the airport, one company at a time. The only thing the cadets should bring is the clothes they have on their backs.”

Dawson was relieved to learn that Biltmore was going to Atlanta where he could join forces with Sandy.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Perkins said. “Our final agenda item deals with several reassignments. Lieutenant Dawson, you will go to Colony West for special projects. Lieutenant Mathews will assume command of Biltmore Company.”

An invisible fist slammed into Dawson’s chest and flattened his lungs, leaving him lightheaded and gasping for air. Special projects was code for “twiddle your thumbs behind a desk.” He could have cared less what they wanted him to do. He’d stand on his head and blow bubbles through his nose, so as long as he went to Atlanta. In the rush of chaotic thoughts tumbling through his brain, he focused on the single goal of keeping his tone measured.

“May I ask why you are reassigning me?” he asked calmly.

“Change is healthy,” Perkins replied.

“If Lieutenant Mathews takes over Biltmore Company, there will be an opening at Sheraton,” Dawson said. “I can fill that.”

Perkins impatiently glanced at his Omega. “Doctor Levine will assume command of Sheraton Company.”

Dawson snapped his head to the mild-mannered Levine. “You’re putting a scientist in charge of a company?” he blurted.

“A growth opportunity for Doctor Levine,” Perkins said, pushing his chair back, ready to stand.

Mathews chimed in, “Dawson, I need you to update the cadet profiles. I’ll stop by Biltmore at sixteen hundred hours to meet with my cadets.”

Dawson focused on Admiral Samuels. “The cadets need continuity. I can accompany them to Atlanta. I’ll transfer to Colony West once they’ve adjusted.”

“Your cadets will be in capable hands.” Perkins smiled, now on his feet.

“Sir, do you support my transfer?” Dawson asked the admiral.

The old man lifted his chin and his barrel chest rose and fell visibly. He rested his large hands on the table and swiveled his head.

“Yes, Lieutenant Dawson, I support the transfer.”

With that, the meeting adjourned.

Jordan couldn’t form words or even move. Wenlan, wearing a white doctor’s jacket, stood beside the bed, stitching together an open wound on his lower leg. Her silky black hair fell just above her waist.

Cries came from outside of the room. He must be in the clinic in Mystic, and the kids screaming were suffering from the Pig.

Jordan blinked and squinted into a bright haze glowing overhead. The air had a damp, briny bite. He was relieved to see he was on
Mary Queen of Scots
about a mile from the mainland. Eddie had made excellent progress.

“My turn,” Jordan said, stretching his arms.

With his hand on the tiller, Eddie lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry, dude.”

“Sorry? Look how far we’ve gone!” Jordan startled when he saw the food pack at the stern next to Eddie’s feet. “You got into the food?”

“All I think about is food,” Eddie said without looking up. “My stomach hurts so bad. I’m so hungry. I just snapped.”

Jordan was about to ask if any food was left in the pack, but he stopped himself. He knew the answer. He had one sweet potato in his pocket that would have to last them until they reached Mystic.

Abby tilted the can to her lips and let the sweet drops of pear juice sparkle on her tongue.

She and Toby were in the alley behind the car, sitting next to each other on the overturned buckets, close enough for their legs to brush.

She had told him about her escape from Colony East, and he had described what he had done after Doctor Perkins kicked him out of the colony.

Abby willed herself to pass the can of pears back to Toby before she drained it. “Please keep this out of my sight.”

“I can get you something else.”

Hidden in the trunk, where the spare tire normally went, was a bounty of canned fruits and vegetables, fresh beets and turnips, and plastic bottles filled with gasoline.

Abby shook her head. “Once I start eating, I won’t be able to stop.”

Toby cursed and said, “I hope you killed Doctor Droznin.”

“Don’t say that!”

The scientist had surprised Abby while she was searching Doctor Droznin’s lab, looking for pills, and she had shot her by accident. Abby had meant to fire the gun to frighten Doctor Droznin so she wouldn’t call for help.

“She infected you with the bacteria, like some kind of lab rat,” Toby said.

Abby lowered her eyes. It was hard to argue against the truth.

Toby kept cursing, directing his wrath at adults everywhere for conceiving of the colonies. When his venom ran out, he covered the can of pears with a piece of cloth cut from the tarp, secured it in place with fishing line, and dashed to the back of the car where he returned the can to the trunk.

Abby folded over. It felt like a hand with sharp claws had tunneled into her stomach, slicing and squeezing her insides.

“Abby. Abby,” Toby called out and rubbed her back, but she could only grit her teeth.

The pain finally lessened, and she took several deep breaths.

“I’ve gone without food before, perhaps a week or longer,” she said in a shaky voice. “After a few days, I stopped feeling hungry. This time is different. I’ve had the Pig for five days, and the cramps keep on getting worse. I think about food constantly.”

Frowning, Toby said, “That’s what Touk went through.”

“Toby, we need to get her.”

He placed his hand on the top of hers. “Jonzy will bring us pills. I’m sure of that. We’ll find Jordan in Mystic, and then we’ll go to Atlanta and get Toucan.”

Abby’s heart melted. She had always noticed Toby’s eyes. Even when she had hated him in the seventh grade, she felt his eyes revealed his real character. He would act like a jerk, but his eyes showed flashes of compassion. Now, they were swirling with kindness.

She rested her head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“I have to make one more trade,” he said. “The price of food is sky high, and we need a little more gas to make it to Mystic.”

“You’re leaving?” she asked with dread.

His shaved head magnified his sheepish expression. “I have to. Lexi will be back soon.”

“I don’t trust her,” Abby said.

Toby chuckled. “I never thought I’d hear you say that about anybody.”

Abby winced. “There’s something about her I don’t like. I just feel it.”

“Lexi introduced me to her friends. She shaved my head so I’d fit in with the local kids. And she brought you here. You can trust her.”

Lexi had apparently tricked Toby, which meant Abby would have to keep a close eye on the girl. “Hurry back,” she said.

Jordan navigated
Mary Queen of Scots
around the overturned hull of a fishing trawler in Portland Harbor, one of many boats damaged or sunk by the storm. The graveyard of sailboats blown from their moorings that stretched along the seawall dashed his hopes of finding a bigger, better boat to sail to Mystic.

At the bow, Eddie spliced a piece of line he’d been working on for the past hour. He’d splice the strands together, sort them apart, and then start over. Jordan thought Eddie kept busy to focus on something other than his ravenous hunger.

Jordan called out when they were close to the pier. Eddie shifted to the port side and grabbed the ladder as Jordan let go of the mainsheet and the boat glided to a stop. Eddie dragged himself up the ladder and secured the bowline to a cleat.

The boys left the boat rigged because they were in a hurry. Jordan caught a last look at
Mary Queen of Scots.
She’d done her job well, safely delivering them to the mainland.

They headed straight to the fuel depot, which was two miles to the north. Huge fuel tanks rose above the houses and trees. The depot seemed the most likely place to find the fuel king, Martha, and the driver who worked for her who had taken his sisters and Toby to Colony East.