The Escape (23 page)

“It’s the same thing I heard before,” Emily whispered. “But what does that mean, that they keep playing the same message?”

“I think it means trouble,” Mason said. “It said to check in daily for news, but has there been any, Samuel?”

“A couple times, yes,” Samuel said. “Well, when I was listening anyway. Once they listed a bunch of FEMA camps with a large population of survivors. Grand Central was on the list. They made it sound like the safest place to be in New York.”

“It’s not,” Mason said. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. One that had me up at night worrying.”

“What did it say?” Emily stared at the radio as if it held all of the answers she needed.

“Don’t know,” Samuel said, rolling a bag of seeds in his hand. “It was in a foreign language. Couldn’t make out a word of it.”

Letliv, Connecticut

BARKER

Barker felt good
about being allowed to hold on to his rifle as they followed Trent into Letliv. It made him feel safe, because if he were going to need to use it on someone, they probably wouldn’t have let him keep it.

Twisted logic, but it worked for him.

“So, who’s in charge around here?” he asked Trent.

“No one.” Trent shrugged. “But I’m going to put a paper up on the board on Main Street to let everyone know you guys are here, so they can make a list of the names of their family in New York.”

“Will that work?” Jenna asked.

“Yeah,” Trent said. “Everyone usually checks it before heading home for the night, since we post important news there. There’s a market every morning on the street for people to trade or barter supplies and food, so by then we should have the list for you all to go over. People will want to meet you.”

The town looked so . . . normal. People were outside, and they all looked fed. Barker had grown so accustomed to seeing people near starvation that the sight of healthy, nourished folks was almost a shock.

“How do you feed everyone?” he asked.

“We’ve got fish as our main food source, and every lawn is a vegetable garden. Fresh milk was a problem for a while until Sharon came in, a few months after the Pulse, with goats.”

“Goat’s milk,” Clarissa said. “I’ve never tried it.”

“They need to be milked twice a day,” Trent said, “so sometimes if you take on the chore you’ll get a jug of milk in return. The woman who owns the goats doesn’t fish. But she keeps her family fed by trading the milk.”

“Go back a moment,” Jenna said. “What do you mean that no one’s in charge? How is that possible?”

“Nobody here wants to be under government rule, or martial law. So we’re not.”

“How has the army not taken over this town?” Clarissa asked.

“They have an entire country filled with people who need to be cared for. They don’t have the resources to deal with the people who actively don’t want to be taken care of.” He looked at her too-thin figure. “If you call living in a FEMA camp being taken care of.”

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t.”

Barker couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that there was no one governing the town. “What happens if someone breaks the law? Or are there any laws?”

Trent grinned. “We have no rulers, but there
are
rules. Basically, the right for me to swing my fist ends where your nose begins.”

“Okay, I get that,” he said. “But what if someone violated that right, and punched someone out? Are there consequences?”

Trent nodded. “Well, yeah. It’s happened. People get into disputes over stupid shit, like letting garden pests run rampant and ruining the neighbor’s garden. If a rule is broken, then whoever broke it would be ostracized. They wouldn’t be able to trade supplies at the market, or they might even be kicked out. We agree on basic principles.”

“What happens if someone gets into a fight and kills a person?” Jenna asked.

Barker wondered if she was thinking about the men they’d had to kill along the way to Letliv.

“That hasn’t happened yet, but an armed society is a polite society. There’s always a way to get what you want. Remember the Internet? The Internet wasn’t under government control, but it managed itself okay.”

“People got scammed on the Internet all the time,” Clarissa said, raising her eyebrows.

“One time a man didn’t fulfill his end of a barter agreement to give a pound of fish to a woman who gave him carrots,” Trent said, “and she told everyone in town. He had to work three times as hard to rebuild his reputation to be able to barter again.”

“Ah, so she gave him a bad review, like on eBay,” Jenna laughed. “God, remember eBay? I used to get so many purses on that site.”

Barker wrapped his arm around her. “And they would arrive on your doorstep like magic.”

“I miss the mail,” she sighed. “And the Internet.”

“It’ll all come back with time,” Trent said. “But I don’t think it will ever be the same. There’s no way to exactly replicate the grid and infrastructure we had before the EMP.”

“So no one’s tried to steal one of the goats?” Clarissa asked. “You make it sound like the goats are worth more than gold around here.”

“They are,” Trent said. “When you taste the milk you’ll see why! Sharon does better than most of the fishermen with those goats of hers. But no one’s stolen a goat. It wouldn’t be worth it—how do you hide livestock in a small town? And why, when you can so easily get some of the milk by working something out with Sharon?”

“So this Sharon woman has a monopoly on the goats?” Jenna asked.

Trent laughed. “Two are pregnant right now, and she’s selling the kids when they come. But even if she did have a monopoly . . .”

“That’s not a problem?” Barker asked. “I mean, isn’t this like a commune or something, everyone working together?”

“We’re not socialists. We’re not communists. Capitalism is still alive and well.” Trent laughed. “I’m probably not explaining it very well. But it’s worked so far.”

“Anarchy,” Barker said. “You’re telling me that
anarchy
has worked so far.”

“I guess. We believe in self-ownership and nonaggression. That’s why we renamed the town. Our motto is ‘Live and Let Live.’ So . . . Letliv.” He smiled. “See?”

“If it works so well,” Jenna said, “then why is everyone armed?”

“Because there are people outside of Letliv who don’t believe in the ‘Live and Let Live’ credo. And we plan on keeping our way of life.”

Barker had never believed that a society without rulers, without authority, could work. He was a lawyer before. . . . Everything he’d been taught before the Pulse revolved around laws and having people with the authority to uphold those laws.

But martial law had changed everything. No one had any rights anymore. The very government that was trying to help the citizens was starving everyone to death. And God knew corruption ran rampant at Grand Central under the hands of Colonel Lanche.

So maybe live and let live was better, for now, anyway.

“What can we do to earn some dinner and a place to sleep tonight?” Barker asked.

“Let’s go to the docks and find out. Jenna and Clarissa should be able to find rooms with families, and you could sleep on my couch, if you want.”

“That’s very kind of you, Trent,” Jenna said. “But Barker and I sleep together.”

Clarissa turned away, and Barker could see her cheeks were flushing. She probably thought Barker didn’t want her around Jenna after what happened, but it wasn’t the case.

“Anyplace where the three of us could be in the same room?” Barker asked. “We’re used to camping, if space is an issue.”

“You can share the floor if you want, but it’s just for tonight,” Trent said. “If you choose to stick around, you’ll have to find your own place.”

“How?” Jenna asked. “Isn’t all of the land already taken? The homes?”

“The size of Letliv is as big as it wants to be, if that makes sense. There are homes farther out that are abandoned. Entire surrounding cities are empty. There’s plenty of room, it’s just a matter of how far you can walk if you want to get to the market. Until there’s enough people to start a new market in another location, anyway.”

“How many people do you have here?” Clarissa asked.

“Not enough,” Trent said. “Always room for a few good men. Or women.” He gestured toward the posting board, which was covered in old sheets of paper, many wrinkled or torn or written over. “Let’s get that list of New Yorkers started. We’ll want to know if our families were at Grand Central with you.”

“You keep saying we,” Barker interrupted. “Did you have family in New York?”

“My kid sister,” Trent said. “Annette Taylor.”

Clarissa gasped. “You don’t mean . . .”

Trent stopped walking and grabbed her hand, as if he was afraid she would run away. “Did you know her? My sister?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I know Annie.”

Letliv, Connecticut, inside an abandoned local radio station outside of town

Jenna
sat back and watched with interest as Trent connected a large battery pack, made from what looked like rebuilt car-batteries, to a microphone, and flipped a switch.

“I try to do this at dusk,” Trent said. “Send out a radio transmission. I have no idea how far it travels, if it reaches anyone at all. But I try.”

Barker took her hand and squeezed it.

“Good evening, anyone who’s listening,” Trent started. “Today’s been good to us. No deaths to report. And we’ve got a few newcomers. We’ve got word that the camp at Grand Central Terminal is a dangerous place to be, so anyone thinking of heading there might want to rethink that.”

Trent paused and took a breath. “Don’t forget to boil your water. It’s all contaminated, even if it looks clear. In other news, I found out my sister is alive, thank God. But she’s not with me yet. Not much else to report.”

He shrugged. “Signing off. Remember this if nothing else . . . live and
Letliv
.”

Trent flipped the switch to off and disconnected the wires. Then he took a hand-crank camping radio and turned the dial slowly, carefully, listening for anything other than the static.

“Hey, what’s that?” Jenna asked, when she heard the sound of . . . something. “A voice?”

“They’ve been playing the same message for months now,” Trent said, and let the radio play the America Victory Radio bulletin.

Jenna listened intently. “It’s what Emily heard,” she whispered. “Has to be.”

“Yeah, but you—”

Trent paused as the radio went to static. He tried recranking it, but it was still static. “That’s weird. It usually plays in a loop.”

A strange clicking noise took over, loud and sharp:

TKTKTKTKTKTKKTK

“What’s happening?” Clarissa asked, taking a step back as if the radio might explode.

“I don’t know, I haven’t heard it before,” Trent said. “But I only check it at night, so that doesn’t mean anything.”

Suddenly a booming voice came out of the tinny radio. It was different from the message they’d just heard. A woman’s voice, light and sweet.

“
Welcome to Global Victory Radio. President Powers has a special message for all Americans, and we are pleased to relay it.
”

The words were clipped and short, with some kind of accent that sounded like English wasn’t the woman’s first language. Jenna couldn’t put her finger on it.

“
The United Nations has generously donated its help and expertise at rebuilding America, bigger and better than before. We are happy to have their troops here to help us keep the peace.

“
With aid from the UN, America can be better. No longer will there be hunger, or injustice. Everyone will be equal.

“
The United Nations troops are here to help America.

“
Obeying them will mean our survival.

“
We are Global Victory Radio.
”

Barker cursed. “That’s not good. That’s really not good.”

“Shhh—there’s more,” Jenna said, and they listened, but it was in Spanish. They couldn’t understand it.

“Probably just replaying the whole thing in Spanish, maybe?” Clarissa asked.

“I have no idea,” Barker said. “But why would President Powers change his stance if he’d declined help from the UN before?”

“He had no choice,” Trent said grimly. “Notice it wasn’t Powers himself saying any of this. For all we know, he’s dead.”

Clarissa gasped. “Oh no.”

The strange clicking noise came on again, followed by the original American Victory Radio message. It was harder to hear, more static than words.

TKTKTKTKTKTTKKTK

“This is scary,” Clarissa said. “What’s happening?”

“It’s just a guess, about the president,” Trent said. “I don’t know any more than you do. But I do know one thing. That message from the UN—that’s what we call a psyop.”

Barker frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you should know,” Trent said. “A psychological operation. Or maybe not, if you weren’t a soldier before the EMP, or listened to any alternative news media. In a country they were occupying, our government would put out leaflets, messages, radio broadcasts, any way they could get their message across to the people, to lower resistance. Gain support.” Trent stared at the radio with distrust. “It was called a psyop.”

“Are people actually going to listen to that, and believe it?” Clarissa asked. “Because I wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, people will believe it,” Trent said. “If they say it enough times, it becomes its own sort of truth. By the time the UN gets here to ‘help,’ if they haven’t invaded already, most of the people left in America will just roll over like puppies because they think that the troops really are here to just keep the peace.”

Jenna looked confused. “You don’t think the UN would help us?”

Trent frowned. “I’m not the only American who doesn’t like the idea of being under globalist occupation. Ever hear of the New World Order?”

“Yeah, from conspiracy nuts,” Barker said dismissively. “How’d they get control of the radio?”

“Same way I did,” Trent said, shrugging. He gestured around the empty radio station, which had probably housed a local DJ and some country tunes before the Pulse.

“I just . . . took it,” he said. “And no one stopped me.”

Trent’s home

JENNA

Jenna looked over
the list of names again by the firelight in Trent’s living room, wanting to make sure she wasn’t missing any people from Grand Central that she knew. The people of Letliv were all so hopeful.

But aside from Annie, there was only one other name she recognized. And even that one she wasn’t one hundred percent sure about, since she didn’t know the woman’s last name.

Barker and Clarissa only recognized Annie’s name. And if it had been just Barker, well—he wouldn’t have even known that “Annette Taylor” was Annie in the first place.

“I’m so sorry, Trent,” Jenna said, handing him back the list. “Remember, just because we don’t recognize the names doesn’t mean they’re not alive or even living at Grand Central.”

“A lot of people died, I know that,” Trent said. “It’s not surprising, especially in a crowded place like New York City. We . . . we lost a lot of folks too.”

“How are we going to break the news?” she asked.

“We’ll post it on the board and talk to the people tomorrow morning at the market.” Trent pulled the pot cooking above the fire out with flower-covered oven mitts. “Fish soup, our usual.”

The strong aroma of the soup, which had been flavored with wild scallions from his front yard that he’d cultivated, made her almost dizzy with hunger.

“Thank you,” she said, when he handed her a bowl.

Barker smiled at Jenna, and she wanted to hug him. He was such an amazing man, the way he understood and forgave her for what happened with Clarissa. Any other man would have walked away.

She wasn’t going to sabotage her second chance with him. Not for anything. Because if she could start seeing herself through Barker’s eyes . . . see herself the way he saw her, then she’d be happy. Even better—she’d be content.

I am happy,
she realized.
And content.
Being with Barker felt right. It felt like home, when nothing had felt like home. Not even before the Pulse, when she was working and going out with her girlfriends and going to bed and getting up to do it all over again.

All this time they’d been on the road, and yet she’d finally felt comfortable going to sleep at night, as long as it was in his arms.

What did that mean?

Barker sipped his soup, talking with Trent. The two men were so handsome, so muscular. A few weeks ago her first thought would have been to try and have a threesome with them. Jenna laughed softly to herself. The funny thing was, now . . . the only man she wanted was Barker.

From the moment she met him at Grand Central, he’d been different than any other man. Different toward her, anyway. Barker treated her with a respect and reverence that made her want to respect herself. To be good to herself.

And good to him.

So yeah, being monogamous no longer seemed like a hardship. Not if she had him.

Oh my God. Am I really falling in—

Jenna looked down at her soup, her face burning.

No, she wasn’t falling in love. She’d already fallen.

I’m in love with Barker.

Jenna didn’t feel any different now that she’d identified her feelings. But it changed everything. Because what would that mean for her, if she was in love with him, when at any moment either of them could be killed?

No, not here. Not in Letliv.
They were safe there.

But they couldn’t stay in Letliv forever. Evan was still being held hostage at Grand Central, and Annie was there. And all of those women on the Tracks. All of those families, the people who were struggling to eke out a miserable existence under Colonel Lanche’s martial law.

They had to save them. The only way to do that was a . . . a
thrust
. A surge of battle against the soldiers at Grand Central. That meant war. It meant shooting.

It meant being shot at.

It was how Roy had died. She knew that they weren’t impervious to bullets. Now that she knew she was in love, how could she risk losing Barker?

He looked up at her and caught her staring. “How’s your soup?” he asked.

Jenna smiled. Pushed thoughts of battles and gunshots and hostages out of her mind. “It’s really good.”

“Good,” he said, and smiled back.

Grand Central Terminal, the Tracks

Evan woke up
to a cool washcloth on his forehead. His head was killing him. Everything was killing him, actually.

“Shh,” a woman’s voice whispered. “You’re okay. They’re not here.”

Evan opened his eyes and looked around. He was on a dimly lit subway train, but it wasn’t moving. The door of the train car was open, looking out onto a burning garbage fire.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“You’re with me. Annie. On the Tracks.” Annie looked at him with a worried expression on her pretty face.

“Hey,” he said, struggling to sit up. “Are you okay?”

“My leg hurts, but it’s not your fault, you know that, right?” she said. “They’re animals. Monsters.”

“Oh my God,” he moaned, remembering what was happening right before he blacked out. He looked down to see if he was still naked, but somehow he was in his clothes again. “Did they . . . when I was out, did Scar . . .” He couldn’t say the words.

“No, they didn’t touch you. Like that, I mean. After Scar hit you, I don’t think they were expecting you to go unconscious the way you did. They brought us back down here, and Josephine got us the water and bandages.”

Evan nodded, even though he had no idea who Josephine was. At least someone was helping. Someone existed in this place who wasn’t trying to terrorize him . . . them.

“You knew Clarissa?” he asked, remembering what the Colonel had said. “That’s why they dragged you into that?”

“She was my roommate here. On the Tracks. Clarissa took care of me when I couldn’t take care of myself.”

“Why’d she leave you?” he asked.

“Same reason you got left behind, I imagine,” Annie whispered. “No choice. But they know we’re here. And they’re going to come back for us.”

“Do you really believe that?” he asked hopefully.

“I know it.”

Annie dipped the washrag from his pounding head into a pail of cold water, wrung it out, and gently placed it back on his head.

“We just have to survive until they get here, then,” he said. “Just survive this minute.”

After the horror of the last few days, Evan was able to find comfort lying there on the floor of the subway train with Annie watching over him.

“When Barker and Jenna and Clarissa and Roy come back . . . no, not Roy. They killed Roy.” Evan closed his eyes. “When they come back for us, Colonel Lanche won’t let us go without a fight.”

“I know,” Annie said.

“The Colonel told me that they’re terrorists. That they’re going to get everyone killed. Do you think that’s true?”

Annie paused, as if thinking about it. “Some things are worth dying for. I’d rather die trying to be free than live here on the Tracks forever. And they know that. The Colonel knows it, but so do our friends.”

Letliv

BARKER

Wrapped up in
a sleeping bag, Barker pulled Jenna close to him. They were on the floor of Trent’s living room in front of the dying embers of the fireplace. Clarissa was sleeping in the hall by herself. She’d said she felt safe enough around Trent to not feel the need to sleep in the same room as Barker and Jenna.

“Barker,” Jenna whispered.

He kissed her. “Yeah.”

“We need to figure out a way to get the people in Letliv to join us when we fight the Colonel.”

“We have to get them to trust us first,” Barker said. “We can’t just ask them to risk their lives for strangers.”

“But Annie is Trent’s sister! Surely that has to mean something.”