The Directives (27 page)

No longer concerned with remaining concealed, Grim stood and uncoiled his frame. Stretching and twisting at the hips, he glanced down at Bishop and grumbled, “I’m getting to old for this scout-sniper bullshit. You got any jobs that call for a plain, old, everyday stand-up gunslinger?”

Bishop soon joined his comrade, gingerly bending and flexing, every joint sounding with pops and cracks. “That’s too bad, Grim. I could complete a triathlon and
then
kick your ass after I finished. You should work on your conditioning.”

The only response was an exaggerated eye-roll, Grim more concerned about circulation to his legs than Bishop’s sarcasm.

Soon, the duo was climbing down from the roof. “Now or never,” Bishop declared, nodding toward the first street.

An hour later, the mystery had only deepened.

There was clear evidence of habitation. Two homes displayed laundry lines stretched across the backyard, one of them adorned with a colorful array of t-shirts, sporting no evidence of sun bleaching from long-term exposure. There were paths of crushed grass and weeds between some of the houses, one of the abodes decked with a slop bucket full of fresh table scraps sitting on the back porch.

Those houses that showed clear evidence of recent occupation were thoroughly searched. Bishop was surprised to find the doors unlocked, all of the windows open.
Now that’s really odd
, he thought. He didn’t know anyone in this post-apocalyptic world who would be so careless with their security.

Grim had noted that all of the clean laundry was clothing for children, both in size and design.

“Do you think they all moved to the school or one of the churches?” Bishop asked, scratching his head over the recently abandoned neighborhood. 

“Could be. Or maybe they evacuated to somebody’s farm in the rural countryside.”

Bishop’s response was a yawn, quickly followed by an audible rumble from his stomach. “One thing’s for certain. We aren’t going to find them if they’re hiding. I guess we just finish our job and report back to the council. Maybe they’ll show up before we head out.”

Grim frowned at the concept. “Maybe they’ll show up with guns blazing. They’re probably out gathering reinforcements from the surrounding ranches. They’re no doubt readying a virtual tide of infantry to mount a full frontal assault and kick our sorry asses. We need
to stay frosty, sharp, and diligent as hell.”

“Amen to that, brother. Amen. Let’s go get some chow and rack. You look like you could use some beauty rest.”

“Not everybody can be fresh as a fucking daisy like you, oh fearless leader,” Grim replied, bowing deeply at the waist.

Three days later, Cory was finally finished with his inventory, and the results were fantastic. “We’re showing 28 of the silos completely full. Only one had signs of deterioration, but I can’t be sure about that from such a cursory examination. Regardless, that’s hundreds of tons of seed, feed, and cornbread. Now if we just had some beans to go with it,” he reported.

The Alliance team was ecstatic, smiles and backslaps all around. They had no way of knowing, just a few feet away, almost beneath their boots, there was tremendous suffering and discomfort.

The water had lasted a little more than a day. Despite being underground, the daytime temperature in the catacombs was still miserable, the dank, thick air close and stale.

Candy, Shane and the older hideouts had done their best to ration, but little frames couldn’t control their body temps as well as adults. Thirsty children became cranky children, and the water carried below had been consumed quickly.

The first day without H2O had been troubling, but the junior residents of Riley were tough. By midway through the third day, everyone was complaining of headaches, sore muscles, and dry throats. Shane was getting desperate.

“We’re going to have to shoot it out with them,” he told the gathered boys. “We can’t wait any longer. We’ll pop out of the opening just before dark. Steady your aim and make every bullet count. I’ll go first, and try and keep them busy with my semi-auto. The more of you that get out and start shooting, the better our odds. Meet me at the entrance in one hour.”

The meeting’s attendees dispersed, even the youngest of the boys well aware that they didn’t have much of a chance of seeing nightfall. Jimmy traveled along to Cat, finding Candy and some of the girls gathered there.

“We’re going outside in an hour,” Jimmy informed the assembly. “We’re going to fight our way out of here.”

Candy was upset, but too dehydrated to mount much of a protest. With a sniffle, and then tears running down her dirty cheeks, she answered softly, “Jimmy… I don’t know what to say. I’m afraid you’ll be hurt… or worse.”

The young man glared down at the floor, afraid he’d start weeping if he met her gaze. “Shane is going out first. I’ll be second. Maybe if we surprise them… maybe they aren’t good fighters… maybe it’ll be okay.”

Candy shook her head, memories of all the people she’d loved who were now dead. “There has to be another way. Can’t we give them a little more time to leave?”

Jimmy waved his arm around the room, the walls lined with filthy, lethargic, little faces. “We have to do it now, Candy. We have to do it for them,” he said motioning at the pathetic children. “We can’t just wait until they all get really sick. Everybody’s thirsty and hungry. We all need sunshine and fresh air.”

Frustrated by the truth, Candy started weeping in earnest. “It’s just not fair, Jimmy! Why does everyone I care about have to die?”

“
I’m
not dead yet,” he chuckled, trying to be brave. “But I know what you mean. I wish things were the way they used to be. I dream about that all the time.”

Stretching her arms out, Candy pulled Jimmy close and held him in a tight hug, both of their bodies racked with sobs. Every child in the room understood, many of them shedding tears as well.

It was Bishop’s turn to pull guard duty, dreading the boredom more than lack of sleep. His team had done an excellent job on this mission, and millions of people would benefit from their efforts.

Since there hadn’t been a single sign of another human being in the area, he decided to stroll around their perimeter before climbing up the office roof. It would get the blood circulating and help him stay awake until 11 when Kevin was scheduled to relieve him.

He had walked less than 50 feet when a scraping noise made him pull up short and freeze.
Was it an animal? A rat or rabbit?
He waited for several seconds, but the sound didn’t repeat.

Another two steps, and he heard it again. In the fading light, he thought he saw movement in the distance, a shadow near a pile of busted, crumbling, cinder blocks someone had discarded near the silos.

His rifle snapped up, adrenaline pouring through his veins. He scanned and swept, but couldn’t identify any threat. Bishop considered waking up the guys, but then dismissed the thought. If it was a squirrel or other vermin, it wasn’t worth their loss of sleep.
Besides, I can just hear Grim going on and on about his fearless leader being scared shitless by a little ol’ rodent.

Bishop stalked to the corner, popping his head around the barrier to take a quick peek. There was something moving – and it was bigger than any rabbit.
A dog? Coyote?

Whatever it was, he decided to chase it away. His team left food lying around, and he didn’t want some animal getting a free lunch.

This time he stepped around the corner with purpose, his carbine against his shoulder, just in case it was a big dog. He’d had a few encounters with such post-apocalyptic beasts before.

Stunned, Bishop stopped short. Standing 20 feet away was a tiny child. A girl by the look of the long, curly tresses. She couldn’t have been more than four or five years old. And she was clearly scared to death, clutching a doll tightly against her chest.

Her face was smeared with dirt, bits of debris in her hair. Her skirt had been lime green and sky blue at one point in its life; now it mostly matched the surrounding yellowish sand. The flip-flops on her feet showed filthy toes that had tracked through miles of earth.

Lowering his weapon, he decided to start a conversation with the tiny Riley resident. “Hi there,” Bishop said as gently as possible. “Where did you come from?”

“Are you going to eat me?” the weak little voice replied.

“No, I don’t eat people. What’s your name?”

“Are you a monster? Please don’t be one of the monsters.”

Bishop flashed his biggest smile and dropped to one knee. “No, I’m not a monster. I’m just a man, and a nice man, too.”

“I heard the other kids talking. They said you were a Texas Ranger. Is that true?”

Bishop didn’t know how to answer at first. Lying was against his nature, especially to a child. But on the other hand, the girl’s tone indicated she wanted it to be true.

He thought about rushing over and catching her, but her body language made it clear she would scamper off at his slightest movement.

“Yes,” he finally decided to lie. “I’m a Texas Ranger, so you don’t need to be scared of me. I protect people, especially little girls like you. What’s your name?”

“My name is Missy. My daddy told me that if I was ever in trouble, I could get help from policemen, firemen, or Texas Rangers.”

Bishop smiled, thinking he liked Missy’s dad. “Your father was right, Missy. I can help you. What kind of trouble are you in?”

“We don’t have any water. All the kids are getting sick, and the older boys are getting ready to shoot at you and the other men up here.”

“Where are these kids at, Missy?” Bishop said, looking around. “I don’t see anyone but you.”

“I’m not allowed to talk about it. But if you are really a Ranger, then you’ll give me water so the boys don’t have to shoot their guns.”

“I’ll give you all the water you want, Missy,” Bishop said, slowly walking toward the child.

When he was close enough, he again took a knee and offered his Camelbak tube and mouthpiece. “If you come over here, you can drink from this tube. The water is in a big canteen on my back.”

Missy hesitated, looking around as if she were about to bolt. Bishop squeezed the rubber tube and a small bit of water squirted out. “See, Missy. It’s good, clean, fresh water. Come on over here and you can have a drink. We’ll get some water for your friends after that.”

Still, the child lingered, her nervous eyes darting among Bishop’s face, the water tube, and the pile of concrete rubble just a few feet away. Bishop noted her cracked, dry lips, and the vision made his chest hurt. He’d been there, and the thought of any child suffering through dehydration was simply unacceptable.

Ten feet behind Bishop, Shane, Jimmy and the rest of the boys were just arriving at the entrance. Shane heard Bishop’s voice close by, so he gently slid aside the burlap bag that disguised the opening to the catacombs. When he recognized Missy, he turned to the others and hissed quietly, “What is she doing out there? How did she get past us?”

“She must have found another way out,” Jimmy answered.

“She’ll tell them where we are,” one of the other boys sounded off.

Shane maneuvered slightly, trying to find an angle to aim his rifle at Bishop. He was almost there when Missy decided to take a drink.

The small girl moved a few feet forward, and without taking her eyes from Bishop’s face, put the water tube in her mouth. “You bite the end with your teeth, and water will come out,” Bishop instructed.