Wicks nodded.
“Good. Up.”
He rose.
“Now walk forward.”
Ash heard a murmur from the back of the crowd and turned to see what was going on. Out of the trees, a man emerged with Chloe tailing him, holding a knife.
“What’s going on?” Ash asked.
“We have a visitor,” Chloe said. “He seemed very interested in what we were doing.”
The man appeared too old to be a sentry, but that could have been Ash’s bias. As Ash walked over, he couldn’t help but notice the man was staring at him, almost gawking.
“Who are you?” Ash asked.
The man didn’t appear to hear him. Chloe poked the tip of her knife into his back. He winced then blinked several times.
“I know you,” the man said, still looking at Ash.
“I don’t think so.”
“Las Cruces. You were there.”
Ash narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?”
“You were kneeling next to Matt. You were with him when he died. I saw you. You’re with the Resistance, aren’t you?”
Ash couldn’t stop himself from grabbing the man’s shirt and pulling him forward. “Who are you?”
“My…my name is Curtis. Curtis Wicks.”
“I don’t know you,” Ash said. “I’ve never seen you before. How do you know Matt?”
“He was my friend. He was…” The man was quiet for a moment. “Maybe you know my code name. Matt called me C8.”
Ash let go of the man’s shirt and took a step back.
“C8 died in the explosion at NB219,” he finally said.
“I didn’t. Obviously. Matt warned me about what was going to happen. I was up in the warehouse when the blast went off, and was able to get out before everything burned down.”
His anger growing, Ash said, “If you saw us, why didn’t you join us?”
The man looked as if he were searching for the right words, but ended up saying nothing.
“If you’re really C8,” Chloe said, “then you know why we’re here.”
“Matt told you, didn’t he?” the man said.
“Told us what?” Ash said.
The man looked from him to Chloe and back. “Dream Sky. It could be the only reason you’re here.”
The skin of Ash’s arms prickled.
“What is it?” Ash asked. “What is Dream Sky?”
Through trembling lips, the man said, “Everything.”
“That’s a little broad for my taste. What is it?”
The man stammered but made no answer.
“Whatever it is,” Chloe said, “once we destroy it, it’ll bring the Project down, won’t it?”
The man’s eyes widened. “You can’t destroy it!”
“Why not?” Ash said. “Isn’t that what Matt wanted to do?”
“No. He wanted to take it,” the man said. “You need it. We all need it if we’re going to start over. It’s a repository of irreplaceable knowledge!”
“Are you telling me it’s a library?” Ash asked.
“No. Not a library. People.”
38
After almost dying at the survival station, Belinda Ramsey is not sure if she and her fellow survivors should be trusting these people who found them not long after they went on the run, but there was little choice. She and the others were both physically and emotionally exhausted, and the promise to help them get far away from the Chicago survival station was all it took.
The bus is headed west to where they’ve been told other survivors are gathering. It sounds suspiciously like the safe zones the UN people, or whoever they were, talked about. But these new people have already treated Belinda’s group much better than the others back at the station. Food and clothes and medical attention have all been offered.
Belinda is hopeful and at the same time scared to hope.
The only thing she regrets about leaving the survival station is that her journal is still sitting on her bunk. She must have said something to someone about it, because when they take a break at a large truck stop, one of the new people brings her a pen and a blank diary from the store.
“In case you get the urge,” the woman says, placing it on the seat next to Belinda.
Belinda at first isn’t sure she’d ever have the urge to write again, but after a while on the road again, she realizes that’s not true. There is at least one thing she has to write.
She picks up the book, opens it to the first page, and begins:
I don’t know what his name was. I don’t know what happened to him. I don’t know where he is. All I know is that if not for his actions, we would all be dead. Since there is no way I can thank him, all I can do is tell you what happened.
Last night, after eleven p.m., my name was finally called…
Pax isn’t sure exactly what it is he’s feeling. Satisfaction for taking over the Los Angeles survival station? A bit. Relief that they were able to save Martina’s friends and the other detainees? Sure. Revulsion at what was done to the girl named Ruby? Absolutely. All these thoughts and more race through him, making it impossible for him to hold still for more than a moment.
The amazing thing is that the Campbell kid isn’t sick or dead. He appears completely unaffected by the virus, only agitated at being cooped up. Why the virus didn’t make him sick is something Pax will let others work out. For the moment, he’s strictly concerned with getting all possible intel out of the facility, then getting out of there before Project Eden sends people in to find out what happened.
As soon as he finishes searching the facility director’s office, he picks up his radio and says, “Finish up whatever you’re doing and get to the main entrance. This is the fifteen-minute warning.”
Martina will not leave Ben’s side. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, and appears just as glued to her. They are waiting in the back of one of the troop trucks at the stadium, told that after their rescuers finish what they’re doing at the station, they’ll head out. The rest of her friends are also in the truck, with the exception of Ruby, who is still in isolation. Martina was able to visit her before leaving and was happy to see her friend’s spirits were up and that she looked perfectly healthy.
Now, all the others are asking her questions about where she’s been and who their saviors are.
She answers as best as she can.
Then Jilly asks, “What about Noreen and Riley and Craig? Where are they?”
Until that moment, Martina was pretty sure she’s never been happier, but the mention of her missing friends dampens her mood. It’s her fault they’re not here. She raced off, focused solely on Ben’s Jeep, and lost them.
“We’ll find them,” she says. “Tomorrow, first thing.”
Ben squeezes her hand. “Absolutely.”
Noreen isn’t sure if Craig is dead or only unconscious. If she could check, she would, but her hands are bound behind her and tied to a pipe running up the wall of the mostly empty room. Craig is slumped to the side ten feet away, similarly bound to another pipe. She watches his chest to see if he’s breathing, but in the dim light it’s hard to tell.
Where Riley is, she has no idea. It was Riley’s turn to gather food for dinner, so she wasn’t there when the men they saw in Cambria returned and sneaked up on them. Thankfully, Riley took her motorcycle with her. Otherwise the men wouldn’t stop looking until they find out who it belongs to.
Noreen doesn’t know what’s going to happen, but she’s sure it won’t be good.
“Craig,” she whispers for about the millionth time. “Craig, can you hear me?”