“Sure can,” said Ledger. The name Ike Black tickled something in the back of Ledger’s mind. He’d heard that name before but it had been a long time ago and the connections were somehow wrong. A general? No, that didn’t seem quite right, but he couldn’t pin down what he remembered. “Let me see what I got.”
Ledger fished in his pack and brought out a revolver he’d taken from the men they’d killed. It was a hell of a thing to offer. His own pistol was hidden in his pack, and their swords were stashed between rocks half a mile out of town.
The guard took the revolver and nodded like a kid on Christmas morning. “God damn, man,” he said. “Smith and Wesson Chief’s Special. This is a classic. Sweet.”
“Glad you like it.”
“This your own piece?”
“Found it in a house that had been overrun,” Ledger said. “I took it but it’s not really my kind of thing. I’m more of a long gun guy. Can’t hit shit with a little wheel gun like that. Besides, what’s a gun going to do for me if I get sick, right? There are more eaters out there than bullets. I’d rather know that those dead fuckers can’t make me into one of them, you know?”
The guard offered him a fist and they bumped.
“We’re looking for guys like you,” he said.
He tied white ribbons around Ledger’s wrist, and when Tom turned over a pouch filled with rabbit jerky he got one as well.
Everyone smiled at one another and the guards told them to go straight through to the center of the camp. They thanked them and moved off. The camp was big and covered much of the area outside of the mountain entrance. There were several large tents that looked like they might have belonged to a circus back in the day. Above each was a flagpole, and Ledger saw several white flags, some blue flags and, on the tent set apart from the others, a red flag. There were three times as many guards around the red tent and he pointed this out to Tom.
“What’s it mean?” asked Tom.
“Nothing good,” said Ledger.
Behind the white tents was the entrance to the mountain, which they could see as they drew closer. The door was a massive panel of reinforced steel that was partly raised to allow people to enter. A line of refugees, all of them wearing white bands, snaked out of the mouth of the cavern. There were guards everywhere, standing watch outside the entrance and walking up and down the lines checking to make sure of the wristband colors. All of them heavily armed.
Tom said, “Something’s wrong here.”
Ledger grinned. “No shit.”
“You didn’t want them to know we used to be cops.”
“Nope.”
“You know something or just guessing?”
“Bit of both,” admitted Ledger. “I was trying to stack the odds in favor of us getting white ribbons.”
“Why?”
They walked a few paces before Ledger replied. “Because I have a bad feeling that anyone going to that red tent isn’t likely to enjoy what they find.”
Another team of guards stopped them as they approached the end of the line.
“Drop your gear over there,” said one of them, pointing to a row of wheelbarrows. “No one’ll touch your shit.”
They did as asked; though Ledger hoped like hell that no one would search the backpacks while they were inside. He had an explanation for the automatic pistol, but it would be harder to sell here than at the guard outpost. These men looked sharper, more competent, and far less agreeable.
“Arms up and out,” said the second guard. “Legs wide.”
Ledger pretended to be too dense to understand that they wanted to frisk him, and he let the guard push him roughly into the correct position. He had expected this, though, and had left most of his other weapons with his sword. His small Wilson rapid-release folding knife was clipped to the low Vee of his undershirt because the front of the chest was one of those places most people never bothered to check, even during a vigorous pat-down. Nor did they pat his chest now. They hadn’t taken off his shoes or belt, either. Ledger kept his relief and amusement off his face.
Once they were cleared, one of the guards told them to go into the tent. They did and inside they saw what looked like an old-fashioned vaccination set-up of the kind once used in third-world countries by groups like the World Health Organization. People stood in a long switchback line that brought them to three separate inoculation stations where official-looking people in white lab coats administered shots. Once each person had received an injection they were ushered out of the tent through an opening in the back. There were maybe a hundred and fifty people in all. Most of the people were women, and young women at that. Ledger noticed there was an unusually high percentage of attractive women for a group that was supposed to be more or less random. Peppered among the women were healthy-looking teens and a few men. The mathematics of it all made Ledger’s heart sink and his jaw clench.
Tom caught his mood and quietly asked, “You see something?”
“Don’t you?” asked Ledger.
The young man looked around the room for several minutes, then nodded. “The ratio?”
“And—?”
“Too many women. No one’s old. Wait, that’s wrong. None of the men are older than you, and you don’t look as old as you are.”
“No. So what’s that tell you?”
Tom frowned. “Doesn’t make sense if this was just for inoculation.”
“Nope. But tell me why.”
“If this was a real cure, then everyone would be in here. That little girl’s not here. In fact, I don’t see anyone who looks starved or sick. No one with a bandage over a possible bite.”
“Nope,” agreed Ledger.
“This treatment is supposed to work even if you’re already sick. So why aren’t they showing people that?” asked Tom. “Seems to me that would sell this pretty hard. Curing the sick.”
“Uh huh.”
They spoke very softly, making sure the other people in line didn’t hear them.
“Not having the warm fuzzies about all of this,” said Ledger. “It’s both too good to be true and not set up the right way. Too many things are off about this.”
“People are buying it.”
“Dude, let’s face it, this is the apocalypse and someone’s offering a possible fix. This is a seller’s market.”
“What’s our play?”
Ledger considered. “Without looking like you’re doing it, count the guards. Don’t miss any. Get a good sense of where they are, how they’re armed. Look for places of concealment in case we have to do something creative.”
“‘Creative’?”
“Uh huh.” He nodded at the big, dark mouth of the cavern. “I got a feeling we’re walking into the dragon’s mouth, kid. That general they mentioned, Ike Black? I know that name. Can’t quite place where, but it wasn’t from a Nobel Peace Prize announcement. There’s something wrong about him. It’ll come to me. Point is, I think we’re about to step into some shit. If I’m right — and, sadly, I’m usually right about this kind of thing — then it could all get crazy real fucking fast. You understand me?”
“Yes,” said Tom.
“Watch me for cues. Be stupid and agreeable. Don’t be threatening in any way. Follow my lead and if I make a move then I want you to move with me.”
“What kind of move?”
“Don’t know yet,” said Ledger. “I’m going to let the moment tell me what to do. You understand that?”
“Yes.”
They nodded and moved with the line, but they kept enough distance between them and the end of the line to be able to speak together in low tones.
“If this goes south on us, Tom,” said Ledger, “I need to know that you’ll do whatever’s necessary. Don’t freak out. Pick your targets and watch your fire. You understand the concept of trigger discipline. Remember your training. We protect civilians as much as possible, but we have to win any fight we start. No bullshit. War isn’t polite.”