Soft Apocalypse (27 page)

Hungry as we were, we weren’t stupid. We watched the people for a few minutes.

“What do you think the catch is?” Sophia asked.

“I say we find out,” Cortez said.

“What, just waltz into an obvious trap?” Jean Paul said.

Cortez shrugged. “There are only two of them. I’m gonna check it out, you guys can stay here.”

“They’re probably armed,” Jean Paul said, “and have two dozen friends nearby.”

Cortez pulled a pistol out of his pants pocket. “I’m armed, too.”

“I’ll go with you,” I said, mostly because Jean Paul was against the idea. We climbed down the porch steps and slid between the waxy bamboo.

“That guy really has a stick up his ass,” Cortez said.

I chuckled. “He doesn’t seem to grasp that he’s not in an office building surrounded by private security any more.”

We stopped fifty feet shy of the steps, hoping to catch some of the conversation before deciding whether to proceed, but it’s difficult to move through bamboo without announcing your approach.

“Sounds like we’ve got more visitors,” The woman said. “Hello in there!” she called.

Cortez called a greeting in return; we pushed the last few yards and broke onto the white marble steps. The crowd was welcoming, especially the couple with the sign. They told us and the six kids (who I could now see were actually quite young, mostly in their mid-teens) how to get to the empty Bi-Lo where their tribe was camped, that their tribe would indeed provide us with a meal, no strings attached. Cortez and I probed them with questions. We didn’t want to seem ungracious, but we were still skeptical, despite how well-intentioned and harmless the couple seemed.

They explained that their tribe was looking to grow, to create a larger community and carve out a new town where they could all be safe and live a civilized life. It sounded nice, but my bullshit meter was in the red.

“What do you think?” I asked Cortez as the teens set off toward the Bi-Lo.

“Let’s play along for a while,” he said.

We could smell pork barbecue before the Bi-Lo was even in sight. The place was doing a fairly brisk business, considering there probably weren’t a hundred people within twenty miles of here. A man with kind eyes greeted us at the door. He didn’t have to introduce himself.

“Hello, Rumor,” I said.

He no longer looked like a Jumpy-Jump—he was dressed in a pair of tattered blue jeans and a green t-shirt—but as he hugged me like a long lost brother and cried that I was the man who had let him see the light, the singsong accent was the same.

“Come, come, you look hungry,” he said. “Let me prepare you a plate.” He guided us toward white plastic chairs with a gentle hand on my shoulder blade.

Cortez and I each accepted a paper plate of pork with a side of corn.

“Enjoy your food,” Rumor insisted. “When you’re feeling good and plenty we can catch up, and chat a little about what we have to offer you.”

“What you have to offer us?” Cortez said, eyeing the food warily.

Rumor waved at the plate. “There are no tricks here. My trickster days are long behind me. Eat, then we’ll talk.”

Cortez and I looked at each other. I shrugged.

“Can we get our friends?” Cortez asked Rumor.

Rumor assured him that by all means he should fetch our friends. Cortez went to get them while I ate.

I willed myself to eat slowly, to savor the wonderfully juicy meat, despite the urgent cries from my stomach that I eat faster.

The concrete floor of the Bi-Lo was scattered with tents and sleeping bags. Here and there people sat conversing in white plastic chairs, always in twos, one person holding a Styrofoam plate and mostly listening.

“How have you been doing?” Rumor asked, handing me a paper cup of sweet iced tea. He swung a chair around and sat so our knees almost touched.

“I’m not dead, so, better than most I guess.”

“Are you happy, though, Jasper?” Rumor asked. It surprised me that he remembered my name. Of course, I
had
been the one who’d let him see the light.

“No. I’m hungry and scared, and people are dying all around me. Of course I’m not happy.”

“I once offered you happiness,” Rumor said.

I didn’t get what he was saying, then I remembered. “Ah, the vial of blood.” I paused in my eating, eyed the food on my fork.

“Exactly, the vial.” Rumor pushed his palm toward my plate.“Eat. I can see you tensing, like a deer who’s just heard a branch crack. I gave you my word, there are no unexpected seasonings in the food.”

I ate. It was too late anyway. But I couldn’t help distrusting this guy. I’m not sure I could ever forgive someone for doing what he did. That he was regretful for killing Ange’s dog now, after I infected him with Doctor Happy, did not seem to merit absolution. I’ve never been a huge believer in giving people a pass for hurting other people just because they’re sorry about it later, and when that regret is virus-induced, I’m even less inclined.

“So that’s what this is all about? You’re recruiting people to the virus?”

Rumor laughed merrily. “Yes, of course!”

“But it’s not in the food?”

“We don’t trick people. We invite them here and offer them an opportunity to join our tribe. If we were going to introduce you to the virus by force, wouldn’t it be easier to surprise you with a needle as you walked in the door?”

That was true. “If you want to spread the virus, why don’t you just do that?”

“Is that how you would do it?” Rumor asked.

“No.”

He shrugged. “That answers your question. We respect people’s rights, as long as they respect others’ rights.”

I didn’t say anything. If they were so damned ethical, why hadn’t the people with the sign told us they were infected with Doctor Happy right up front? And then there was Deirdre. Sebastian hadn’t given her any choice.

Outside, Cortez appeared, trailed by the others. I waved them in. Baby Joel was sleeping in Colin’s arms, still looking too small to be real.

Rumor went straight to Ange and hugged her fiercely; he was so much bigger than her that she almost disappeared inside the one-way hug. “Little Peanut! So good to see you again.”

Rumor led everyone to the food table. I followed and shamelessly fixed myself seconds. As we settled into chairs, Rumor came and stood in front of our little group. “Can I give you my patter? Then if you decide not to join us, you can all fly away with food in your bellies.”

“Sure,” I said, my mouth full. “But I doubt you’re going to find any converts here.” I thought of Deirdre, falling end-over-end to her death.

“That’s fair enough.” He covered his mouth with his palm, considering for a moment. “I have to alter my pitch, because you already know so much. You know this virus was engineered by scientists. These scientists realized that if the human race was going to survive, we have to take the next leap in evolution ourselves. What do we need to survive? We don’t need more hands, or two heads, or to fly. We need to be healed. Our violence, our sadness, our loneliness, our fear… they are a sickness that is killing us.” The cadence of his speech was mesmerizing. It was like listening to a good sermon.

“Look at what’s become of the world under yesterday’s people.” He swept his hand around the room with a flourish, as if all the suffering and death in the world were spread out before us. “What do you think? When the ashes settle, shall we let the same people have another try?” He laughed. “Would you like another helping of the same rotted stew?”

No one responded. Rumor went on.

“We are the future, my friends. We’re going to build a world based on loving kindness, not ego. We convert violent people every chance we get, against their will if we must. If you’re violent, you forfeit your right to choose. But for others like you, it’s your choice. We offer you food, companionship, a safe home. We offer you the future.”

“Hold on,” I said. “This safe home—it wouldn’t be Athens by any chance?”

“It would indeed.”

“Son of a bitch!” Cortez said. “Everyone in Athens is infected?”

Rumor bowed his head. “Only the converted are permitted to live there.”

“Sebastian, you bastard,” Cortez muttered.

“When did he plan on telling us?” Ange asked. She looked angry enough to pull Sebastian’s ears off if he’d been there.

Rumor spread his hands. “Can I finish, please? What questions do you have for me about joining us? Why are you so angry? Tell me your doubts.”

Sophia spoke up. “I’m happy the way I am. I’m not killing anyone; I’m not filled with hate.”

“Clearly you’re a good person,” Rumor said, moving to face her directly. “But don’t we all strive to better? Don’t we all want to reach our greatest potential? This will lead you toward that self-actualization. It’s like an extremely nutritious vitamin, only for your mind instead of your body.”

He waited for Sophia to respond, but Sophia only crossed her arms and shook her head.

“There are thousands of foreign entities already in your bodies! Consider all the helpful bacteria in your digestive tract. And this virus won’t change you. I’m still me.” He pointed at his chest. “I’m more me than I was before I felt the needle’s song. Only in my case it was not a needle, it was a water gun!” He laughed merrily. “The virus freed me to be far more me, far less of the streets I grew up on. I’m still me, just a much friendlier version of me.”

I looked around at my tribe, gauging their reactions. You couldn’t help but get a little caught up in Rumor’s words. But it was irreversible, and there was Deirdre to consider. What if it wasn’t as pleasant as it seemed from the outside? The scientists behind this had also created the bamboo, and that hadn’t turned out all that well. Who knew, maybe over time Doctor Happy would drive its hosts insane.

“Isn’t it also important for people to remain human in the full sense of the word?” Jeannie asked .“Being human means experiencing both the good and the bad, feeling both happiness and sorrow.”

Rumor laughed. “The fundamental human experience has led to ruin. Yes, humanity is both good and bad, but the good has not adequately balanced the bad, and probably cannot. The bad must go.”

The more I considered it, the more it seemed like giving up. Maybe one day I would be ready to give up, but not today. “You’re a good salesman,” I said, “but I don’t think we’re your target audience.” I put my hands on my knees and leaned forward. “Now, is that your patter? Are we free to go?”

Rumor sighed. “Jasper, your wings can carry you wherever you like, after my patter or before. You are a free bird.” He came over to me, put his hand over mine, his rough palm touching me gently. I resisted the urge to pull away. “We mean well. I hope you believe that.”

I pulled my hand away and stood. “We do, too. We appreciate the meal, and the offer.” The others gathered up their stuff.

“Where are you going to go?” Rumor asked. “You’re not going to survive anywhere but in Athens, I promise you.”

We looked at each other. “We’ll do the nomad thing for a few more months, then go back to Savannah and see if things have settled down,” I said.

Rumor shook his head. “There is nothing for you in Savannah. The Jumpy-Jumps cut off the federal army’s supply route. Their push collapsed quickly after that. The soldiers who aren’t dead are thirsty like everyone else. And don’t head northwest from here, whatever you do.”

“Why’s that?” Cortez asked.

Rumor frowned. “You haven’t heard about Redstone?”

“What’s Redstone?” Jean Paul asked, impatient.

“Redstone Arsenal, outside Huntsville, Alabama,” Rumor answered. “Millions of rifles are stored there—literally millions. The governor of Alabama conscripted the unorganized militia, which means that every male between the ages of eighteen and forty-five was to report for military duty to restore peace and quiet. The problem was, no one told the Jumpy-Jumps, the Civil Defenders, the city-block warlords that they should stay home when the rifles were passed out.”

We digested this little nugget. There were a million rifles running around northwest of us.

“Well, we’ll figure something out,” Colin said.

With that, we left the Doctor Happy recruiting station.

There was a path of sorts through the bamboo—we squeezed around three people heading toward their free meal and patter.

“Good luck,” Jean Paul said as they passed.

I woke from a dream in which I was walking on cookies. Lots of cookies—enough to carpet the ground. That’s it, not much of a dream, not very profound or insightful. Dreams become less insightful, less draped in deep symbolism, when you’re hungry.

Ange rolled onto her stomach. Her eyes had that bleary just-awake look, where dread was still raw and refused to be closeted.

“Morning,” I said.

“Hungry,” she said sleepily.

I wondered what she’d dreamed. Maybe popcorn falling from the sky like snow.

The Doctor Happy cult recruitment meal we’d had ten days earlier had been our last decent one. Since then there had been days when we ate nothing at all. We gave Jeannie much of what food we could find so baby Joel could be nourished.

Something had to give, and last night as I was drifting to sleep, I’d gotten an idea. There was another Young Mozarts song that I liked better than the one the Doctor Happy recruiters had been playing. One of the lines in it was
Chances are before you’re done, you’ll beg, you’ll borrow, and surely you will steal
. I’d never stolen anything in my life. Of course I’d killed someone, so it was a giant step backward as ethical transgressions go. I decided I wouldn’t involve my tribe, just as Cortez didn’t broadcast that he’d killed someone’s ex-pet to provide the first meal on this shitass journey to nowhere. I dressed, stuffed a few things in my pack, and stood on the stoop of our current domicile with the crickets still chirping.

“Where are you going, exactly?” Cortez asked.

“I won’t go far,” I said. “I spotted a place that looks like a good spot to find wild mushrooms. I may be a while if I find a bunch.”

“I’m coming with,” Ange said.

“No,” I said. “You’ll be bored.”

“Of course I’ll be bored. I’ll also be bored if I stay here.” She shrugged on her pack. I tried to think of a better reason why she couldn’t come, but drew a blank.