“It’s good to see you two,” Renee said.
She hesitated a moment, and then gave Robert a hug.
“Forgive me if I don’t put my tongue down your throat,” she told him as she pulled away.
As Estella turned beet red, Robert said, “Forgiven.”
Renee gave Pax a hug also.
“Glad to be back,” he said.
“Have we missed the plane?” she asked. “It was coming last night, wasn’t it?”
“It’s waiting for us,” Pax said. “Which means we should—”
“Who is that?” Renee asked, looking past them at the ferry.
Robert turned and saw that Kat had come to the front of the boat.
“That’s Kat,” he said. “It’s a long story. One I’ll be happy to tell you once we’re headed to the mainland. Is everybody ready?”
Renee and Estella exchanged a concerned look.
“Most everyone,” Renee said.
“What do you mean?”
“Three people came down sick last night,” Renee said. “And another this morning. We’ve isolated them, but…”
Robert turned to Pax. “Everyone was vaccinated. Why would anyone be sick?”
“It happens on occasion, a reaction to the vaccine,” Pax said. “Same thing happens with all types of inoculations.” He looked at Renee. “I need to see them.”
“That may be a bit difficult,” she told him.
“Why?” Robert asked.
“When they started getting sick, a few people began to wonder if Pax might have been lying about the shot. That maybe he wanted everyone to get sick.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Robert said. “Everyone saw the spray. If Pax wanted us dead, he would have let us go outside.”
“I know that. I also know he wouldn’t have come back here until we were all dead if that was his plan.” With a gesture back at the hotel, she said, “But there’s a vocal minority in there that isn’t seeing things the same way.” She focused on Pax. “You go back in there, you’re liable not to come back out.”
“I’ll talk to them,” Robert said.
“They’re not particularly pleased with you, either. You did, after all, ‘run off’ with the enemy.”
“All right, enough,” Pax said. “We need to get everyone off the island, and we need to do it fast. There’s no telling when Project Eden might return.”
“I have a feeling some of them aren’t going to want to go,” Renee said.
“And what?” Robert asked. “They’re going to stay here on the island?”
“I’m just telling you what I think, that’s all.”
“Then they can stay,” Pax said.
They all turned to him, surprised.
“Look, every life is important now. And yes, I want everyone on the ferry. But if we have to force some of them to join us, and they end up causing a problem later that might cost others their lives, then it’s better if they stay.”
“What about the sick?” Robert asked.
“Bring them.”
“But they might infect the rest of us,” Estella said.
Pax looked out at the island. “So might exposing yourself to all the virus the two of you just ran through.” He let his words sink in for a moment, then said, “Round everyone up and bring them down here. We’ll give people the choice. But no matter what, this boat leaves this dock in an hour.”
11
Ben had reached the northern edge of Los Angeles right before dark the night before. Knowing it would be easier to find the survival station in the daylight, he’d broken into a diner in Sunland, stretched out in the large corner booth in the back, and fallen fast asleep.
Not long after eleven p.m., he snapped awake to the sound of shattering glass. At first he had thought it was one of the restaurant’s windows, but a quick check revealed they were all intact.
Okay, not his building. But one close by.
He made his way to the front of the diner. He was ten feet from the window, buried deep in shadows, when a second crash slashed through the otherwise silent night.
He froze. That had been even closer. A building or two away, at most.
As alarming as the sound was, what followed was truly terrifying.
Laughter. Loud, obnoxious laughter.
And then a second laugh, a different tenor than the first, but no less creepy.
“That one there,” a male voice said, his words echoing along the street.
“Easy,” another male voice scoffed.
A few seconds of quiet ended with another window shattering and another gale of laughter.
Then footsteps.
Ben dropped to a crouch.
“Okay, my turn,” the first one said. From the tone of the voice, Ben guessed the guy couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen.
“All right, over there. The one in the middle.”
Ben waited for the window of a nearby building to break, but it was the window directly in front of him that exploded.
He barely had time to cover his face before he was bathed in shards. He fell backward onto the floor, unable to hold back the grunt that escaped his lips.
He froze, sure the others now knew he was there. But all he could hear was more laughter and the second guy saying, “Nice one. My turn.”
Ben remained on the floor until he could hear them no longer, and then stood up. Glass clung to his shirt and pants. He did what he could to shake it all off, and inspected his arms and hands. He’d been cut in several places, but they were mostly nicks and scratches.
Thinking there might be more glass in his hair, he tilted forward and gave his head a shake. He felt a drip behind his ear, so he reached up and discovered a few inches of hair matted with blood.
He hurried back to where he’d left his things, snagged his flashlight, and went into the windowless bathroom. Holding the light in one hand and using the mirror, he scanned his scalp, expecting to find a big gash. But like the cuts on his arms, the two he located on his head were minor.
The place had no hot water but the faucets still worked, so he was able to wash himself off. In the kitchen, he found a first-aid kit and a shelf full of clean cooking towels. He used several of the towels to dry off and applied some antibiotic ointment to his many wounds. He covered the larger ones on his arms and hands with bandages, and pressed another towel against the cuts on his head.
For several minutes, he seriously considered finding someplace else to spend the rest of the night, but he decided the likelihood of the vandals returning was low, so he went back to his booth bed and tried to fall sleep.
Ten minutes asleep, twenty awake. Thirty out, five awake. Fifteen out, nearly an hour awake. The night went on and on like this. He finally gave up when the first gray light of the dawn leaked into the diner.
He spent several minutes before looking through the front windows at the street to make sure no one was out there. If his experience with Iris hadn’t been enough to caution him about other survivors, the window-smashing duo had sealed the deal. The next time he ran into anyone, he wanted it to be at the survivor station. At least there, the UN would make sure everyone acted like human beings.
Satisfied there was no one around, he grabbed his bag and slipped out the back door to the rear parking area where he’d left his car. He still had no idea where the survival station was, but he figured it had to be someplace large enough to accommodate a lot of survivors, given the size of the city.
He found a gas station a block away and went inside, looking for a map. No luck. He tried at two more stations but got the same result. With GPS, maps were something gas stations didn’t need to carry anymore, he guessed.
He finally found a map at a motel near the freeway entrance. After studying it for a moment, he figured the most likely places for survival stations would be the area airports. They were big and well known and easy to get to. LAX was the largest, but the Burbank airport was closer to his current location, so he figured he should check there first.