“Cozar, get Albright and bring her back. Tell her we’ve got an infant with a fever and a cough.”
“Roger,” Cozar said, and he took off running. That was the right reaction. Jack was always glad to see a corpsman pound dirt when given a task.
The parents were still heatedly telling him something, and the father was making all kinds of motions with his hands, but the gestures didn’t help at all. He hoped whatever they were trying to tell him wasn’t too important.
He put his hand on the father’s shoulder and said, “It’s going to be okay,” in a reassuring voice. “There’s a doctor on the way, and we’re going to get you out of here.” The father didn’t understand a word of it, but saying it made Jack feel better.
He peeled the small boys from his legs, then crouched down and took a good look at each. Their faces were dirty and they were frightened, but they looked healthy. The younger of the two had a quivering lip, and his eyes were wet with tears. He had to be six or seven years old, and he was trying as hard as he could not to cry.
“Don’t sweat it, buddy,” Jack said. “You’re both very brave little kids. After what you’ve been through, you’re allowed to cry, okay.” It didn’t matter that they couldn’t understand him. He tousled the boy’s hair and gave him a pat on the shoulder.
The girl was standing in the far corner, shivering and focused on her feet. Jack had done enough rescues to know that was normal, and he also knew better than to bother her. Teenage girls tended to react better to women after trauma, and he decided to leave her be.
A minute later, Albright came down the stairs at full sprint with her medkit in hand. She said something in Chinese and went directly to examining the infant. She raised her mask to get a better look, and Jack could see sheer amazement all over her face. It was the face of a lottery winner. Albright always had a special affinity for children, and this put her on top of the world.
She learned what she needed quickly then took a look at the other children. “Nothing too serious,” she said as she worked, “The little guy’s just having a bad reaction to the mold and dust. Should be fine once we get him out of here.”
Jack breathed a sigh of relief. That was exactly what he needed to hear. He was desperate for a win, and he got one. “Can you tell ‘em we’re bringing a car?”
“Dream on,” she said. “I know how to say I’m a doctor, order the general’s chicken, and ask for the toilet, but that’s the full extent of my Chinese.”
“That’s okay. We’ll figure something out,” he said. “We always do.”
Hartnell stopped at the top of the steps with her arms full of cloth, water and cheap sunglasses. “I got what you asked for, chief.”
That’s when it happened; Jack was filled with a feeling he hadn’t had in more than a week. If these people had survived, then so had others. Possibly many others. He had a reason to be there in that wasteland, and more importantly, he had something to look forward to besides another heap of corpses.
He had hope, and it was the single most precious thing in the world.
Chapter 18:
The Silk Road
Back when he first saw aliens piling up the dead, Jack retreated. His body was stuck there in the remains of China, but his head ran all the way back home to the comfort of his girlfriend’s arms, where it stayed while his body persisted on. He did what was necessary to survive, but only in a dim, mechanical daze. He was an animated corpse that had forgotten to fall.
Then he found a family of survivors, and everything changed. The discovery filled him with a ray of hope that brought him back to life. From that point on, he was fully charged up and firing on all cylinders because it wasn’t just about survival anymore; it was about saving lives, and that meant everything to him.
It woke all of them up.
Nikitin and Chase returned with a delivery van which had carried more than its fair share of fish, by the smell of things. No one liked the stink, but the vehicle was spacious and all in one piece, so they spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning it up and packing it full of supplies. By the end of the night, the van was stocked with enough food and water for a month, and still had space left over for a makeshift medical bay.
The next day, they added two more cars to their collection. The first was a minivan for the family of survivors, retrofitted with a few good layers of grating over its vents. It had all the amenities, including a plush interior and an audio deck loaded full of Chinese pop.
The second vehicle was a beaten up and rusty old jeep that’d seen better days. Nikitin was adamant about having an off-road vehicle for scouting purposes, and the jeep was the best he could find. Or so he said. Jack suspected Nikitin had a soft spot for beaten up and rusty old jeeps, which he refused to admit to.
On the third day, they mounted up and hit the road as the winds began once again to rise. Jack and Nikitin rode ahead in the jeep where they both took a serious sandblasting in the open air. It was worse than they’d expected, and at every stop, they layered on more spare clothing until they both looked like mummies. The extra layers made the ride survivable, if not particularly comfortable.
The jeep scouted ahead by a paltry fifty meters most of the time, while the others trundled along behind them with their headlights on. It was slow going at first, but roads proved to be in excellent condition and they picked up speed. They traveled two hundred kilometers in that first week, and Jack suspected they could cover more ground if they wanted to.
They stopped to check for supplies and survivors at every settlement and the search was well worth the effort. They found plenty of both, and their small group sprouted into a motorcade. Survivors started coming out to meet them, drawn out of hiding by the sounds of car engines and human voices shouting over the roar. The motorcade swelled into a mass migration in time, their population numbering in the thousands, in a puttering line of cars that stretched across a kilometer of road.
Every influx brought another handful of orange jumpsuits, stocked up and ready for duty. Many spoke multiple languages including English, and they found constant work translating. The local guides were also plentiful, although each one delivered the same morbid warning: don’t bother with the cities. There was nothing to find there but death.
They traveled for more than two straight months past the ruins of towns whose names Jack would never know, at the foot of the great mountains to the North which they only saw in silhouette. Always headed westward, they passed from China to Myanmar, then along the northern border between India and Nepal, and finally through Pakistan where they met up several more groups like their own.
As they neared the end of Pakistan, they finally caught sight of a city. Where Peshawar had been, there was a black and still smoking petrified forest, with a thick layer of shattered concrete lining the ground and the twisted steel skeletons of buildings standing in for trees. A power capable of such total destruction was unthinkable. They skirted the edge of the ash heap faster than common sense might have suggested, and as they headed for the mountains, no one bothered to look back.
In single file, they entered the Khyber Pass, which Jack had once heard described as a knife-wound in the mountains. The words hadn’t meant much to him, but they were all too appropriate once he saw the steep gash as if the earth had simply been sliced away. The pass had been used by armies since the beginning of time, and he wondered how it would be remembered from then on, having carried so many survivors away from that terrible destruction.
As they emerged on the other side of the mountains, the travelers saw the most wonderful thing they’d ever seen. After more than two months in dust-choked twilight, they could finally see the bright blue sky again. They were back on Earth.