“And I told you I knew how to shoot.”
A half laugh. “That, you did.”
Chloe threw her arms around both of them. Though it was a gross understatement, she said, “Good to see you, Brandon.”
“Good to see you, too.”
Even though the majority of their group was now children, there were too many of them to all fit on the Resistance’s jet. But Chloe had an idea for how to deal with that. Before going back to the house, she and Miller stripped the fatigues off the soldiers, and used the transport truck to haul everyone down the mountain to Colorado Springs.
Instead of pulling up to their jet, they stopped next to the one belonging to Project Eden. Dressed in the fatigues, Miller entered the aircraft, and returned a couple minutes later with the two crew members who had been waiting on board. They locked the men inside a closet in the control tower complex. Given enough time, they’d be able to knock the door down. Chloe had wondered if she should kill them, too, but there had been enough death that day.
Finally, with Barry at the controls of the appropriated plane, and Harlan flying their original jet, they headed home, where they would increase the Resistance’s numbers by ten newly inoculated children, one newly inoculated adult, and the return of Brandon Ash.
31
There had been no report for hours from the team that had been sent to Colorado. Even the crew of the plane had not responded.
It was troubling, yes, but in the grand scheme of things, not something Perez could worry about. Others could figure out what happened and make the appropriate decision about what to do next. He needed to concentrate on the bigger picture, especially now that the time for the official cleanup phase had arrived.
“Are we ready?” he asked Claudia.
“Everything’s set.”
He watched the final seconds before the top of the hour click off on his computer’s clock. When only two seconds remained, he said, “Begin.”
32
As they walk through the offices of K-Ridge, Martina can’t help but feel some of the luster of the radio world fall away. The place is a dump, and not the magical land of music she’d pictured when she was younger.
With her are Noreen, Riley, and Craig, the group now responsible for getting the station working. She can see they are equally unimpressed.
A flip of a light switch reveals that the building at least still has power.
The studio itself is a little better, though more cramped than she imagined. They turn some dials and push some buttons. A few light up, while others don’t. At one point, feedback blares from a set of headphones lying next to the control board. Craig yanks down the control switch he just slid up.
“Sorry,” he says.
On the wall, a digital clock reads 03:59:37 PM. This, Martina thinks, is the master clock the DJs used when they announced the time. How many times has this clock affected her life? More than once.
“Maybe there’s an instruction manual somewhere?” Noreen says.
Martina thinks it would be more likely manuals plural, not singular, and probably written so only an engineer could understand them. But it’s not a bad idea, and she’s about to say so when they hear a voice from the other room.
They look at each other for a moment, and rush through the door.
The voice is coming out of a radio that must have been on when the station had stopped broadcasting.
“Did we do that?” Martina asks, wondering if they triggered a prerecorded show.
“Maybe,” Craig says.
But as they listen, they realize it’s nothing they did. The voice is coming from somewhere else, and what it says takes them all by surprise.
Sanjay and Kusum are sound asleep when someone knocks on the door of the dorm room they have claimed.
“Sanjay! Sanjay, wake up!”
Jeeval stirs from where she’s been sleeping on the floor.
Ap. Ap.
The barks are halfhearted, but jarring nonetheless.
Sanjay opens his eyes, wanting nothing more than to sleep for another hour. He checks his watch—6:36 a.m.
“Sanjay!”
Now that he’s more awake than asleep, he recognizes Naresh’s voice. “What is it?”
“You have to come hear this.”
“Hear what?”
“It is on the radio. Hurry. In the headmaster’s house.”
Both confused and curious, Sanjay gets up and starts to dress.
“Tell me if it’s important,” Kusum says from the bed. She rolls over and pulls his now unused pillow over her head.
When he gets to the house, he finds in addition to Naresh that Ritu and one of the children are there, too. Out of the speakers of the headmaster’s stereo a voice is talking in Hindi.
“Is this a CD?” Sanjay asks.
“It’s the radio,” Naresh tells him.
“I woke early,” Ritu says. “I wanted to hear some music. So I was trying to see if I could find a station that might still be playing some.”
“And you found this?” Sanjay asks.
“No. Well, I mean, yes. This popped on. It’s…it’s on all the channels. Here.” She turns the dial and sure enough, the same voice is speaking on other stations. “It is also in English. This is the third time through.”
Sanjay listens to the voice, then looks at the others.
The astonishment in their faces mirrors his own.
I tried calling all the numbers in my contact list again. No one answered. I decided to go through the phone book, but after a few pages I just stopped because I was getting the same response, or rather, no response at all. Funny, I used to tell everyone that I was totally fine on my own and actually enjoy it. I’ve always considered that a strength, especially since I was planning on being a writer. I mean, what is a writer but someone who spends most of her time alone. I may have been premature in that pronouncement, though. It would really, really (really) be nice if there was someone here to talk to. We could even have—
Belinda stops typing mid-sentence and frowns. She’s thinking too much.
“Poor lonely you,” she says. “At least you’re still breathing.”
As she stretches, she realizes what she really needs is something to eat, so she goes down to the lounge. Tonight she decides to treat herself to a double dose of spicy shrimp Top Ramen. As the noodles and water heat up in the microwave, she wanders over to the window and looks outside, hoping to spot someone walking around. It’s something she does every mealtime now.
And while, predictably, there is no one around, a flicker grabs her attention.
Her building is L-shaped, allowing her to see into the windows on the other extension. In the lounge across the way and one floor down, the TV has been left on. She’s noticed it before, but since the networks went off air, it has displayed nothing but black.
Now, though, she can see a person facing the camera, like a news reporter. Is the epidemic on the wane? Is life starting to come back to normal?
She walks quickly over to her lounge’s TV and turns it on. She hovers her finger over the remote, thinking she’ll have to hunt around to find the broadcast she saw, but it’s unnecessary. The image of the man is on her screen.
Behind her, the microwave beeps to let her know her noodles are ready, but she doesn’t hear it. All her attention is on the monitor.
Robert’s plan has not gone exactly as he’d hoped. While he has been sufficiently buzzed for the last several hours, he has yet to achieve the oblivion he wants the alcohol to bring on.