There was no change in the sound of the steps, only the continuous thud-thud-thud of rubber meeting asphalt.
As the person came abreast of Burrito King, Gabriel tensed, his eyes on the road. The moon had already dipped below the horizon, so the stars provided the only light. That was more than enough for him to get a good sense of the walker.
It was a guy, medium height, wearing a light jacket and baseball cap. No backpack, though, which was kind of odd. Most of the people Gabriel and the rest of the team had come across had been carrying things.
He was concerned that maybe this wasn’t a regular survivor, but one of Project Eden’s people on patrol. But the unease lasted only a second because he had never seen one of them out alone, and he’d certainly never seen any of them unarmed, like this guy appeared to be.
So how are we going to handle this?
Get over to the guy before he realized what was going on?
Call out to him?
Or follow him for a bit and make sure he wasn’t Project Eden?
The last seemed the most prudent. The guy was heading toward Nyla’s position anyway. Worst case, she and Gabriel could close in together.
He let the survivor cross the Alvarado intersection, then he followed.
A block down, Sunset took a slight southeast turn, so Gabriel cut the gap between them to prevent losing sight of the guy. As he started to slow back down, the toe of his shoe tapped a discarded screw and sent it skittering across the road.
The man whipped around. “Who’s there?”
Dammit!
“Sorry,” Gabriel said, holding his hands out to show they were empty. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Wh…why are you here? Are you following me?” the guy was clearly scared, his voice raised.
“Yes, I mean, it’s not what you think. I’m here to help.”
The guy started to back away from him. “I don’t need your help. Thank you. Now leave me alone. Please.”
There was a click over the receiver in Gabriel’s ear. His eyes flicked past the man, down the street. Though he saw no one there, he knew the click meant Nyla was somewhere nearby.
He took a step forward. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Good!” The man started to turn away.
“But if you’re headed for the survival station, the people there will.”
As the man looked back, Gabriel realized the survivor wasn’t a man at all, but a young woman.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“They aren’t who they claim to be.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The UN doesn’t exist anymore. The people at the stadium are only taking in survivors so they can get rid of them.”
“Get rid of them?” A look of total disbelief flooded her face. “You mean kill?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe you. You’re…you’re just saying that because…because…”
She turned and began running down Sunset.
“I’m not lying,” Gabriel said as he took off after her. “I just want to talk to you.”
His thighs ached, still remembering the chase from the day before. The runner had gotten away then, but Gabriel had no intention of letting it happen two days in a row. It wasn’t easy, but he was starting to gain on the woman.
As the road took another bend to the right, Nyla rushed out from behind a car, reaching the middle of the road moments before the survivor got there.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she said, holding out her arms.
The woman tried to alter her course to go around Nyla, but she reacted too late and Nyla was able to grab her waist and hold on tight.
“Let me go!” the woman yelled, squirming.
She almost broke free, but Gabriel arrived in time to grab one of her arms.
“Calm down,” he said. “I told you, we’re not going to hurt you.”
The woman continued to struggle.
“Relax,” Gabriel said.
“We’re trying to save your life,” Nyla told her.
Whether it was Nyla’s words or because the woman was losing strength, she finally stopped struggling. Eyes narrowing, she said, “I don’t believe you.”
“We’re telling the truth,” Gabriel said. “The survival stations are really death traps. If you go in, you don’t come out again.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Because the people who are running them are the same ones who planted the shipping containers full of Sage Flu around the world. This is their way to finish what they started.”
The woman looked stunned. “How can you know this?”
“We’ve been trying to stop them for a long time,” Nyla said.
“You didn’t do a very good job, then.”
“No, we didn’t.”
“You want me to believe you,” the survivor said, “prove it.”
This was not the first time someone had said this, so Gabriel and Nyla were prepared.
“I’m going to pull my phone out of my pocket,” Nyla said. “Okay?”
The woman nodded.
Nyla retrieved her phone, pulled up the video shot a few days before on a scouting trip to the stadium, and turned the screen so the man could see. On the trip, the closest she and Gabriel had been able to get was a hill right beyond the parking area, straight out from the back end of the stadium. This was the only part of the structure where there was no double-deck seating, just two sets of much smaller bleachers, one behind left field and one behind right.
Though the angle of the video was a bit acute, it clearly showed two large fenced-in areas on the playing field, with several people in each.
Nyla said, “We know from information gained about other survival stations that those are detention areas. They place people who are obviously sick in one, and those who are not in the other.”
“But isn’t that what they should do?” the survivor asked.
“Hold on.” Nyla sped up the image until it zoomed in on a portion of the grandstands, and then she let the video play again. The picture moved around some because the zoom was so extreme, but there was no mistaking the man holding the rifle, facing the field. “Separating the ill and the non-ill does make sense, but putting them behind locked fences with razor wire on top and surrounding them with well-armed guards doesn’t. The survivors go to these stations of their own free will. They want the help. They’re not going to put up a fight, so why treat them like they would?”
“I…I don’t know. But they must have their reasons.”
“Then how about this? No survivors have left the stadium, and yet the amount of people in each detention area has dropped dramatically.”
“That’s not proof,” the woman said. “You could be making that up.”
“True,” Nyla replied. “And there are other things I could tell you that you may or may not believe.”
“Did you see the video on TV?” Gabriel asked.
“Why do you think I’m here?” the woman responded.
“I don’t mean the video that claims to be a message from the UN. I’m talking about the one that went up several days go from that reporter who used to be with PCN.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Nyla was already shuffling through her phone. She found Tamara Costello’s video and hit PLAY.
The woman watched, rapt, as Tamara explained what was really going on.
When the video ended, she stared at the screen for several seconds before saying, “I don’t know. I don’t…”
Nyla watched her for a moment, then glanced at Gabriel and nodded. They both took a few steps back, giving the woman space.
“If you want to continue on, we won’t stop you,” Nyla said.