Pipe Dreams (21 page)

CHAPTER 37

W
hen Vanessa woke, it took
a minute to remember where she was. Soft light filtered pale and cool through opaque skylights high in the pitched roof of the barracks. Stretching, she pushed away the blankets. She was in no rush to rise. Instead, she concentrated on holding onto her dreams. They were fickle, already retreating from the onslaught of consciousness. Someone had once told her to keep a dream journal, but she had never been able to recall more than slim fragments.

The barracks were empty. White walls, metal bunks, and the shining surface of a recently waxed floor were silent reminders of how much her world had changed again. On a trunk at the foot of her bed, someone had left her a towel and change of clothes. Unlike the others who had joined her on this journey, she had little of her own. Her small pack contained only dirty jeans, a warm fleece, and sentimental items. On the way to the showers, she paused to touch the handle of her grandfather
’s knife, its smooth surface was a testament to the past and a validation. She was Vanessa Kovalic, her grandfather’s only living legacy.

When dressed, Vanessa tidied her bunk and hung her towel over the metal frame. She would not let sloppiness dull the crispness of her surroundings. Outside, the pine
-scented air was bright and clean. Well trimmed grass bordered a gravel path in front of the barracks. The absence of crumbling concrete was a blessing. Her chest tightened and tears pricked her eyes at the beauty of her surroundings.

She followed the path to the building in which she had dined last night. In front of it, a colorful garden surrounded a flagpole proudly hoisting the American flag. Next to the entry, a uniformed young man stood at attention. He nodded as Vanessa approached and held open the door.

“Thank you,” she muttered, unaccustomed to chivalry.

“Ma
’am,” he replied.

Crossing the wide lobby, her momentary optimism dulled. Her current environment, juxtaposed to her recent past, was wrong. How was she in this sane and peaceful world while the
NSO, just seven miles away, still perpetrated its malice?

She had spent so many years imagining violent retribution that the quiet encampment belied her understanding. Had the soldiers been drilling or shells been flying, she could have more easily accepted it. Now, Vanessa was infuriated by the lack of action. The fantasy she had maintained of an eventual conflict between the
NSO and the outside world had fueled her resolve to survive, but the pleasant base was the antithesis of her dreams. By the time she reached the cafeteria, she was at war with herself.

The cell members gathered around the same table they had occupied last night. Empty plates and glasses littered its hard surface. The smell of hot coffee and bacon enticed her like a siren
’s song. Ravenous, her eyes traveled to the buffet on the opposite side of the room.

Steaming containers covered with stainless steel lids, baskets of fruit and bread, and a drink station drew her. She waved good morning as she passed the table, focused solely on the food in front of her. As if she had not eaten in ages, the strength of her compulsion surprised her.

When Vanessa had filled her plate, she returned to the table. There were no seats next to Michael. She regretted this. He was as beautiful as the morning. His dreadlocks were pulled back in a loose ponytail and a white tee shirt showed off his golden skin and muscular arms. The pull of his lips competed with her hunger, though she tried not to let it show.

The food was an overwhelming luxury. It had been so long since she had tasted the sweetness of fresh fruit or reveled in the texture of warm toast. While no one in the
NSO starved, there had never been quite enough to eat. The breakfast in front of her was a bounty and she savored each bite, scarcely heeding the conversations taking place around her.

Finally sated, she gave her attention to her companions. Their festive chatter was incongruous, as if they were on holiday in a resort hotel. Noting the absences at the table, Vanessa was embarrassed for them. Jeremy and Ashley were not here, nor were Paul, Sarah, or Jon. She also missed Ramirez. He had been as much family as the rest of them in her short sojourn into their world.

She glanced at Michael. His face was serious and he did not engage in the conversations. Flashing a small smile, his eyes met hers. After a moment he raised his hand and coughed. The table grew quiet.

“I hate to interrupt, but there
’s some things we gotta talk about. We’re all feelin’ pretty good right now and that’s natural. Soon though, we’re gonna have to face some facts and I’d just as soon lay them on the table now.”  Michael paused, waiting for his words to sink in before continuing.

“First off, we
’re not leavin’ here anytime soon, so all that talk about callin’ folks and seeing relatives has gotta stop. It won’t help. They can’t let us go and I respect that…”

A murmur rose from the group like a quick wind, the surge of protests muting Michael
’s voice. The anticipation of seeing family had been a constant subject since they had emerged from the sewer and disappointment lined their faces. Michael put both hands in the air.

“Wait. Wait a minute and hear me out. You all heard the truth about what
’s been goin’ down. The administrators are plannin’ some nasty shit. I know it’s easy to feel pretty safe right now, but we’re not. We’re not any safer here than we were on the island. Nobody is. We’ve talked for a long time about how we could fix things, make ’em right again. Now’s the time. We owe that to Jeremy and everyone else still back there. We owe it to our families. Fact is, if the administrators succeed, there won’t be anybody worth seein’. The NSO will win. And it’s not like we have a choice about it. So we can bitch all we want, while we eat good food and sleep in clean beds, but it ain’t gonna make a difference. What we need to do, only thing we can do, is cooperate.”

The table was quiet. As memories of the city clouded out the present, people grew grim. The room became drab and ominous. The soiled plates and half empty cups were a betrayal. They pushed them away, distancing themselves from the reminders of their guilt. Mariah broke the silence, calm as always.

“What are we supposed to do?” she asked.

“In a little while, Colonel McGrath is gonna talk to us one at a time. He
’s gonna ask us for everything we can remember about what’s happenin’ in the city. We’ve gotta do our best for him, be his eyes and ears, so he can get a real picture of what’s gone down. If we’re lucky, we might come up with somethin’ he can use to stop them. Anything you’ve got, anything you can recall that’ll help his team find the vaccine, you’ve gotta share. This matters, people. This is the chance we’ve been waitin’ for to fight back.” 

When Michael finished speaking, they asked a few questions he could not answer. Finally, the tension was too much. Michael dragged himself off the bench and grabbed his crutches. “The colonel said there
’s a rec room we can wait in. It’s okay if you don’t want to use it. You just have to tell the sentry outside where you’ll be,” he added, turning to leave. Vanessa followed him.

They crossed the lobby and stepped out into the bright day. The flowers no longer look as cheerful, but she was heartened by Michael
’s words. Her sharp anger was motivating. For the first time since the rebellion, what she knew might be worth something. The nagging thought she had last night returned. Again, she conjured the face of Harry Rose and burst into a run.

“Where you goin
’?”  Michael called.

“I
’ll be right back. I have to get something.” She headed for the barracks and the small, red pack that carried the journal she had kept for years.

Michael lumbered behind her. When he joined her on the cot, he was breathless.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I don
’t know. Something’s bothering me. I wanted to check something in my journal,” Vanessa replied. The journal was spread open on her lap, its cramped code a mystery to everyone but her.

“You wanna talk?” he asked, taking her hand.

“No. Not yet. I have to piece it together first.”

“Okay. You wanna walk?”

“I’d like that.” She smiled at him, standing.

Outside, they followed the path to the lake. The sun warmed the grass. Butterflies and bees flicked to and fro, drinking nectar from the wildflowers. In the distance, a crow cawed. The world smelled green and alive. Michael led her off the path and into a small hollow. At a log, halfway down the gentle slope, they sat. Waves rippled on the lake, catching the light.

“Last night, I wasn’t expectin’ that,” Michael said, twisting grass.

“No. Neither was I,” Vanessa replied, blushing.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Can we not?  Can it just be?”

“Yeah, girl. It can just be.” He pushed a stray lock of hair away from her face and pulled her close.

Leaning her head against his stomach, she closed her eyes and let the sun warm her. Her journal was in her pocket, but she did not pull it out. Michael caressed her hair, playing with the strands. After a time, he took out his own notebook and began to write. The scratching of his pen was a lullaby. Birds cried and insects buzzed. A gentle breeze stirred the grasses. In the hollow, a frog croaked. Vanessa shifted, getting more comfortable, and dozed until a voice called out, beckoning her to Colonel McGrath
’s office.

CHAPTER 38

Lt. Commander William S. Collins
was never called that by those who knew him well. That name had belonged to his father, a celebrated veteran who had died in the noblest way. On a far away field, in a far away land, CoCo’s dad had thrown himself on a grenade to save his buddies from a similar fate. The picture on the mantel at home showed someone CoCo barely knew; a hero who had abandoned his family for his team. The unsmiling face in desert camouflage was an icon. The son, in life, would never measure up to what the father had achieved in death, though god knows he tried.

And he was trying now. It was a shit mission. The intel was sketchy at best and his team was short – missing a medic, a demo guy, and the new guy, Joe. Joe had taken the refugees back to base. In that instantaneous decision,
CoCo had sent back the man he trusted least, but in hindsight it may have been a mistake. Joe’s expertise was in demolition. Given the way things were going, his skill might be necessary. When all else failed, the military used explosives.

To compound things, their only known target had turned up dead. Without another solid lead, they had no choice but to engage in recon. If they were seen inside the city, the consequences would be catastrophic. Some heavily populated area on the mainland would suffer horribly from their mistake. People would die – lots and lots of people. As team leader,
CoCo had to make sure that didn’t happen. The mission’s success was his responsibility.

He opened his map, studying the maze of pipes and tunnels that ran under the city. They offered the only real chance of getting anywhere without detection, but his run-in with the refugees had shaken even that slim plan. Currently, his team was hunkered down in an offshoot of the main sewer line, not far from the rabbi
’s house. The narrow pipe dead-ended under the public restrooms in the park across the street. Without drainage grates or utility hatches connected to it, the pipe was an ideal temporary base.

The team sat in a line, leaning against the wall. An electric lantern illuminated the cramped space, casting a weak light.
CoCo glanced at his watch and made a quick mental calculation. It had been dark for an hour. In two more it would be safe to surface and go exploring. He opened a ration and settled himself more comfortably.

For almost twenty-four hours, trucks had rumbled above him. A snake camera, attached to the metal grating on a utility hatch in the street above the main, and operated by wireless remote control, had given him a partial view of the scene. Men in military uniforms had rooted people out of buildings and loaded them into army transports. The few who had tried to flee had been shot. The situation on the ground was hostile, but in the last few hours, activity had ceased. The trucks were gone and the camera revealed no evidence of life. If people were up there, they were too scared to come out – which suited
CoCo just fine. The team needed to search the rabbi’s house and didn’t need prying eyes.

After eating, he called out to Roger Malone, an old friend and his best intelligence officer. Malone was the king of gizmos. If
CoCo needed information, Malone was the go to guy.

“Anything new on the screen?”
CoCo asked.

“Nada.”

“I’m gonna grab some shuteye. Wake me if you see anything.” 

“Will do,” Malone replied. Unlike some, he seldom said, “Roger that.”  The only time he did was in a bar, scoping out some sweet babe. It had been a running joke between them since boot camp.

CoCo closed his eyes, willing himself to relax. He wasn’t asleep long before Malone called out, “Hey, you’re going to want to see this.” The intelligence officer gestured at the small screen in his lap. CoCo roused himself, leaning over to look at the image. A slight, bald headed girl crept in their direction. CoCo recognized her instantly. Her injuries had softened him earlier. The bruises and shaved head, on someone so young and pretty, had infuriated him. When Joe radioed that she had fled, CoCo had admired her pluck. He, too, would have gone back for a friend instead of following Joe and the others to safety. Still, she knew the team was in the city and that made her a threat.

“Shit,” he hissed. “Don, Bill, get up there!  Don
’t let her get away!” Before CoCo finished speaking, the two men were crawling back toward the sewer main. Half a block away, a maintenance hatch had already been rigged for easy escape.

The camera had good range. On the small computer screen, the girl ducked and dodged, keeping low and in the shadows. Her image grew larger as she approached. Then it vanished. Malone adjusted the angle of the camera and she reappeared. Properly dressed in dark pants and a long sleeve shirt, she almost blended into her surroundings. Unfortunately
her pale, white scalp glowed on the screen. CoCo almost wished she had worn a hat.

The girl was heading to the rabbi
’s house. The commander tapped his coms officer on the leg and nodded at the picture. Immediately, the information was radioed to the team heading to intercept her. Seconds later, the girl turned into the vestibule of the small Brownstone. CoCo’s men were right behind her – though the untrained eye would have been hard pressed to pick them out against the dark buildings lining the street. Pushing open the front door, the girl stepped inside and disappeared. The team followed and the camera display went static.

CoCo
was tense. Though he trusted his men, he was eager for confirmation that they had the girl. He breathed a small sigh when the coms officer announced, “Package arrived, Sir.” CoCo nodded, giving the signal to acknowledge.

“Confirmed. Return is clear,” the radio sergeant said into the mic on his lapel.

It took several, long minutes before the men reappeared in the pipe, pushing the girl in front of them. They had gagged her with tape and bound her hands with a plastic zip tie. CoCo raised an eyebrow.

“She
’s a fighter,” Don explained.

“We had to carry her
’till we got into the pipe,” Bill chimed in, shrugging.

“You gonna be good if we take the restraints off?”
CoCo asked the girl. She nodded, but her eyes were fierce in the lantern light. “Okay, cut her loose,” he said. Don unsheathed a knife and sliced the hard plastic binding her thin wrists. The girl rubbed them for an instant before pulling the tape from her mouth with a swift tug.

“Bastards,” she spat.

CoCo smiled, leaning forward to face her. “So, we meet again.”

“You? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Ashley hesitated only briefly. “I need your help. My friend is really sick. I think he might be dying. He needs medicine. I thought Isaac might have some – especially since you said he was one of them.”  The words rushed out of the girl like an avalanche.

“Slow down,” Coco said. “First, what’s your name?” 

“Ashley, but what for the love of
god does that have to do with anything?  Don’t you get it?  I need help or I’ve got to go. Jeremy’s too big for me to move and he’s burning up. He can’t even stay awake and his body keeps jerking. I’ve got to find him some antibiotics. Mariah said he had to have them soon. If you’re not going to help, you have to let me go.”

“What was happening today with the army trucks?  Why
were they rounding people up?” CoCo continued, as if he hadn’t heard anything she had said.

“It
’s a purge. That’s why I’ve got to get Jeremy some medicine. If they come back, they might find us. We’ve got to be able to move.”

“What
’s a purge?”

Look, I
’ll tell you anything you want to know, but please, either let me go or help me. Please! It’s really important.”

“How far is he?”
CoCo asked, buying time. Providing medical assistance to a sick man was so far off mission that ordinarily he wouldn’t consider it. Still, the girl knew more about the workings of the city than he did. She could be useful.

“He
’s not far. And he knows everything!  He’ll help you find what you’re looking for if you can just help him.” 

“Can
’t do that. Sorry. We don’t have the time or the manpower.”

“Then you have to let me go. He
’ll die!”

“I
’m sorry, Ashley. I can’t do that either. Like you said, you might be caught. Nobody can know we’re here.”

Ashley
’s eyes fixated on CoCo’s face. Before he registered her intention, she screamed. Bill clapped his hand over her mouth. She bit his palm and he cursed, tightening his grip. Twisting her head violently, she struggled against him. 

“Cut. It. Out,”
CoCo said in a low and dangerous voice. Easing his knife out of the sheath on his chest, he held it up in the light. Ashley grew still.

“We are here for one reason only. Do you understand?”
CoCo asked. Ashley nodded.

“Good. Now Bill is going to let you go and you are going to be quiet. I
’m going to ask you some questions and you are going to answer them. Am I clear?”

Again, the girl nodded
. Bill relaxed his grip. Freed, Ashley wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“What is a purge?”
CoCo demanded.

“It
’s when the soldiers come. The first time, they killed people. The second time they searched buildings and took weapons. This time, they’re taking people away.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where are they taking them?
’

“I don
’t know that either.”

“Okay, where do the soldiers come from?”

“Look, I don’t know. They just come. What do you want from me?” Ashley cried. Tears formed in her big, blue eyes and her body trembled. CoCo ignored her distress and continued.

“How do you know the rabbi?”

“He came with Michael. They were friends. He taught me to play chess.”

Malone interjected. “
CoCo, this isn’t going anywhere.”  The commander paused, considering.

“Please. Jeremy knows way more than I do. He knows more than anybody. There
’s a whole binder he keeps with maps and everything,” Ashley blurted, breaking the silence.

“Maps of what?”
CoCo asked.

“The city, where the other cells are, the traps, everything!”

“Traps?”

“Yes. Traps. You know, for catching food.”

“Why are you catching food? There are regular supplies coming into the city.”

“Only the people in the
NSO get that. We’re the Fallen, the outcasts. We have to find our own food,” she said. CoCo glanced at Malone, raising an eyebrow. This was not what he had expected.

“Ashley, I need you to explain how things work here.” Ashley didn
’t reply. Instead, she looked at her hands. Then, determined, she raised her eyes.

“I
’m not going to tell you anything else unless you promise to help Jeremy. You can kill me. You can tie me up and leave me here. I don’t care. But if you help him, I’ll help you and so will he. He’s our leader. He knows everything, or as much as anyone does. He’s smart and he’s been watching them. You need him.”  Her voice was steady and firm. She had stopped trembling. Studying her silently, CoCo dipped his head in acknowledgement.

“We
’ll see what we can do. Derek, grab your kit. Don, Bill, you come with us. The rest of you stay here. Malone, keep your eyes out and let us know if anything happens.” The men prepared to leave, checking weapons and gear. Then they were crawling out of the pipe.

“Hold up,”
CoCo said, tapping Ashley on the rear. “Put this on.”  He passed a black beanie into her outstretched hand and she tugged it over her shaved head. She smiled back at him.

“Thanks. Didn
’t think of that,” she whispered.

When they got to the surface, Ashley led them into a narrow alley, flanked on both sides by tall buildings. A bright moon reflected on the worn and weathered brick, bathing the city in silver. Staying close to the wall, they moved in neat formation. After a short distance, she stopped to look and listen. Then she sprinted across a wide street, turned sharply, and slipped into a small alley between two decrepit storefronts still smoking from a recent fire. The building on the left was in bad shape. The fire had ravaged it, causing the front façade to crumble. Rubble covered the sidewalk in a wide arc.

Though it had also suffered from the fire, the building on the right was less damaged. Heat still radiated from the walls, but that did not deter the girl. Halfway down the alley, she stopped again. This time she waited longer, cocking her head to catch any faint noise. Then she pressed her body sideways against the wall to her right and disappeared.