The Pulse (16 page)

“Hey,” he said. “You don’t need me as much as you think you do. You’ll be fine, no matter what. Look how you took care of yourself yesterday at the camp.”

She’d killed a man to survive—and Mason had no doubt she could take care of herself if something happened to him. But the fact remained that a woman traveling alone was in grave danger.

He’d always been a loner himself—and he’d been doing fine living by himself before he found Emily. So why, now, did he suddenly find himself with an uncrushable desire to protect her, to keep her with him and keep her safe?

Even the thought of leaving her alone in the city, unguarded for two hours, made him queasy with fear for her safety.

What was it about Emily that he found so attractive, besides her obvious beauty? If they hadn’t been thrown together because of the Pulse, she never would have looked twice at him, and he probably would’ve thought she wasn’t his type.

He sighed. Not that it mattered who or what was his type anymore. He’d be lucky if he made it out of Grand Central alive. He went to the windowsill and placed one of the empty little shampoo bottles on it. Pointing to the shadow it made, he said, “When the shadow moves from where it is now to over here, it’ll have been two hours.”

She nodded. “I know how to tell time, Mason.”

“I guess I should go, then.”

“Wait, Mason,” she said. “Just in case they’re looking for a man with long brown hair—I think you should shave it all off.”

“Seriously?”

“I’ll miss the hair,” Emily said wistfully, “but I think it’ll help you blend in with the soldiers. I can do it right now with your knife and the shampoo.”

Shrugging, he smiled. “I guess I’m getting a new ’do.”

Emily couldn’t seem to smile back, even though he was trying desperately to lighten the mood. “It might save your life,” she whispered.

Having her say that slammed the point home. There was a very good chance he would die this morning.

Mason
stood outside the side entrance to Grand Central Terminal and rubbed his freshly shorn head. The wind went right to his scalp now. He’d never realized how much his hair kept his head warm before. Finding a hat would become a priority, after he found Jenna, told her about the radio, and got the hell out of there.

It was a good thing Emily talked him into shaving his head. Looking around at the groups of soldiers standing outside the camp, he could see that most of them had shaved heads. Probably because of lice. It made him itch just thinking about it.

Wearing his camo shirt and army-issued M16 over his shoulder, he fit right in. The guard at the side entrance didn’t even look twice at him. Keeping his head down, he headed straight for the Tracks.

He kept walking until he got to an old subway train, each car filled with bedding and soiled mattresses. Mason felt uncomfortable, but curiosity warred with his dignity and ultimately won out.

He looked into each car as he passed. Some had women lying on the mattresses, napping, or maybe merely passed out. Others had men with their pants down, holding on to the metal grab bars above their heads, getting their cocks sucked.

A few of the cars seemed like what Mason always imagined whorehouses in the old Wild West were like. An older woman looked at him, maybe fifty years old. It was hard to tell since everyone was thin and tired and aged beyond their years. The darkness of the Tracks, lit only by the numerous garbage fires, hid the woman’s age as well.

She stood in the doorway of the subway car and lowered her shirt, her breast peeking out of the top, the nipple pinched to a dark pink color.

“I’ll give you the ride of your life for an extra ration, hon,” she called to him.

That woman had probably been a business woman, or a soccer mom, or God knows what else before the EMP hit, and now she was a whore. She had no choice.

Mason felt his cock twitch in his pants and he shook his head, feeling his ears turn pink. “I’m looking for Jenna,” he said.

“Jenna’s nice, but I’ve got experience,” she cooed.

“Where is she?” he demanded. The woman frowned and pointed down a few more car lengths. “Thank you.”

Mason hurried in the direction the woman had pointed. A younger woman sat on the hard plastic subway seats, the door to her car permanently shoved open, letting in light from the garbage fire. She perked up as he walked by, peering into her car. She didn’t get up; she just slowly spread her legs until he was staring at the glow of the fire illuminating her cunt.

“I heard you were looking for me,” she said, her legs still obscenely spread. “I’m Jenna.”

Mason closed his eyes, turning his head. “Stand up,” he said gruffly.

She stood immediately, and Mason felt an uneasy sense of control over her that he shouldn’t, by right, have.

“My name is Mason. I’m a friend of Emily’s.”

Jenna’s eyes widened and she reached her hand out to him, drawing him inside the subway car. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. But she can’t stay at the camp, because they want to kill her. She sent me back here to give you a message.”

“I don’t understand,” Jenna whispered. “What do you mean, sent you back here? You’re a soldier, don’t you live here at the camp too?”

“Not exactly,” he said. No need to give her more information than she needed. As much as Emily cared for her friend, he had no idea who this woman was or if she could be trusted.

“Why do they want to kill her?” she asked, her eyebrows knitting in concern.

“I don’t have much time. You need to listen.”

Jenna nodded, her attention rapt.

“She found a working radio, and—”

“That’s impossible,” Jenna interrupted. “None of the radios work since the Pulse. Nothing electronic works.”

“This radio had been kept safe from EMPs in something called a Faraday cage. Not only does the radio work, but there’s a radio station. American Victory Radio. I didn’t get to hear it myself before the soldiers took it back, but Emily says the radio talked about rebuilding happening all over the US.”

Jenna laughed. “If there really was a radio, don’t you think the army would have told us?”

“That’s my point. They’re lying to everyone. The way this camp is run—Grand Central is a hellhole. You know that—hell, you were ready to fuck me a few minutes ago, for what? For some food?”

Jenna scowled. “I’m alive, and that’s more than I can say for most of the people who lived in New York City. So don’t get all high and mighty on me, Mason, or whoever the hell you are.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking her hand. “You’re right. I just—you don’t have to be here, doing this. Emily wanted you to know—wanted all the women on the Tracks, all the families struggling to survive in Grand Central—that there are other options. Other camps, other communities, whole cities being rebuilt.”

“So what am I supposed to do, huh?” she asked. “Just up and leave? Leave guaranteed food and shelter for the open road, where I’ll probably be killed or die of starvation?”

She stopped cold and looked at him. “Oh God—that’s what you guys are going to do, isn’t it.”

Mason nodded.

“I wish you the best of luck, but there’s no way I could do the same.”

“Will you tell the others? That there’s a radio and communication, and the army’s been lying about it?”

Jenna smiled wryly. “You trying to get me killed?”

“I take that as a no.” Mason took a deep breath and stepped out of the subway car. “Good luck, Jenna. Take care of yourself.”

“I always do,” she said. Then, dropping her voice to a whisper, “tell Emily I said thank you for trying to help us, and I’m sorry.”

He nodded. It was time to get the hell out of the Tracks, and never look back.

Emily looked over
at the shadow on the hotel windowsill. It had been less than an hour, but it felt like forever. What if something had happened to him? What would she do? She couldn’t very well do as he said and leave on her own.

Someone rapped on the door and Emily jumped, startled. Picking up her pistol, she held it by her side as she peered through the peephole in the door.

It was Mason. She unbolted the door and wrapped her arms around him in relief.

“Where’s Jenna?” she demanded. “Didn’t you find her?”

“I found her.”

“And?”

“She didn’t want to leave, Em. She didn’t want to take the risk of leaving what she knows.”

Emily set her pistol down, tears coming to her eyes. “But—but—didn’t you tell her? About how they’ve been lying, about the radio, about—”

“I told her all of it.”

“Is she going to tell everyone else?”

Mason shook his head sadly. “She can’t, you know that. Then she’d be a target, same as you were. She’s surviving right now, and she can’t jeopardize that.”

Emily took a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. “But, all those women on the Tracks…”

“We need to go, Emily. Someone could have recognized me or followed me back. It’s time to leave, for real this time.”

Nodding, she stood slowly. “I had this silly idea, that maybe Jenna and I could be roommates again, and we’d live in a house somewhere and help each other out, and I could help take care of her, the way she took care of me on the Tracks.”

Mason didn’t respond. Instead, he lifted the big pack he had and centered it on his back. “Let’s go.”

She followed him, feeling like she had rocks in her stomach, churning around as she thought of Jenna in the light of the fire on the Tracks.

Outside the hotel, she noticed Mason looking carefully in both directions before stepping out into the road, almost as if he expected a car to come careening down the street. Instead, most of the cars were still stalled wherever they had been on the night of the Pulse. Crossing the street, they stayed near the buildings for cover.

They walked in silence, Mason constantly turning his head and looking behind them, making sure they weren’t being followed.

“I wish we had a car that worked,” he muttered.

“We can keep an eye out for one. An old car.”

“I wish,” he said, walking briskly so she had to double her stride to keep up. “All the cars have been snatched up already.”

“Maybe someone would want to trade for one.”

“Unless we were trading a year’s worth of bear meat or something, enough to feed a whole family… no, even then I can’t imagine anyone giving up a car.” Mason shook his head. “I was only thinking out loud anyway. We’re going to hoof it, obviously. You’ve really got to keep up—for your own safety as well as mine. We can’t afford to get caught.”

Emily groaned inwardly and walked faster. She couldn’t start complaining, even though they’d barely walked a mile and she already felt like she wanted to take a break. If she complained too much, he might second-guess his decision to travel with her.

And she needed him to keep her safe. She
wanted
him to keep her safe, too.

They walked in companionable silence, the only sounds in the formerly loud city the pounding of their feet on the pavement. The streets were empty. With no people making noise, no car alarms going off, no traffic, no horns, no shouts, no boom boxes—it was no longer the New York City Emily had grown accustomed to before the Pulse.

She looked up in surprise to see they had walked all the way to the edge of the dirty Hudson River. Her bag started to feel heavy, and she really wanted to rest. But they couldn’t rest—not till they were out of the city. And on foot, that meant walking for hours and hours.

They would follow the river, keeping it on their left, and eventually that should lead them out of the city. Going north and getting upstate would be the best way to get into the country fast. Rushing to catch up to Mason, she tripped over her own foot and fell to the middle of the street, crying out in surprise more than pain as she hit the ground.

“Are you okay?” Mason asked, reaching his large hand down to help her back up. His biceps flexed as he pulled her to standing and she found herself smiling at him like a fool.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just really exhausted—I’m not used to walking so much.”

“Well, we have to keep going. We’ve only been walking for a few hours. What are you going to do when we’ve been walking for days?”

“Days?” she asked faintly. She’d never really thought about what it meant to walk to freedom before. The idea of getting out of the city had always just been that—an idea. Now it was becoming a reality.

And that reality involved an unholy amount of physical exertion.

“This is why I knew this was a bad idea to begin with,” Mason said darkly.

Emily felt anger burst up through her exhaustion at his remark. But he was tired and hungry too, she reminded herself. It was almost like he was asking for a fight. Now would be a really good time for her to keep her mouth shut.

“Did you have a better idea?” she shot back. “One that involves staying in Manhattan but
not
getting killed?” Keeping her mouth shut wasn’t really her thing.

He scowled and they kept walking, following Route 9A as it snaked alongside the choppy water that slushed up against the barges. A terrible smell filled the air and Emily saw it was the New York Sanitation Department—which didn’t smell nice even before the Pulse. Now, with no one doing any sanitizing at all, it was a putrid mess.