The place wasn’t crowded, of course. But I did see a few people walking quickly between buildings, as if they didn’t want to be outside any longer than necessary. It was a surprise to see other people, which is further proof that I was getting used to the new reality.
“Here come your friends,” Chris said.
From the far side of the public park, I saw a group of the cowboys walking with Tori and Kent. One guy carried our gym bags, though Tori held on tight to her own. Kent had Olivia’s huge sack over his shoulder. He really did like Olivia. I don’t think he would have carried anybody else’s bag. Unless it was Tori’s. Okay, stop, Tucker.
From the other side of the building came a few more of Chris’s people, along with Jon. We all met up in front of a building with huge white columns over which the name “Quincy Market” was painted in big gold letters.
“This is where you register,” Chris explained. “They’ll process you through, and then I’ll take you to get something to eat. I assume you’re hungry.”
“Wait, register?” I asked.
“What kind of processing?” said Tori.
“We’re trying to be organized,” Chris explained. “Lots of people are coming through. Right now, we’ve got the only record of who survived the massacre.”
“Makes total sense,” Jon said. “It’s like the first census of the new world. It could end up being a historical document.”
“New world,” I repeated. “I’m not sure how I feel about calling it that.”
“It won’t take long,” Chris assured us. “We’ll take your bags and meet you back here.”
“I’ll hang on to mine,” Tori said.
I had no doubt that she had stashed one of the guns in there.
We all exchanged looks and shrugs and headed inside.
Stepping into the old building, we came upon a long counter that was normally a display for historical artifacts but was now being used as a reception desk by three pretty girls who didn’t look much older than Olivia. One of them waved for us to come over. I took the lead and went first.
“Hello. My name’s Madalyn,” the first girl said to me in a welcoming voice that instantly put me at ease. “How are you doing?”
“I’m not sure how to answer that,” I replied.
She gave me a sympathetic smile. “I hear you. Welcome to the Hall. Not that anybody really wants to be here, but it’s better than being out there alone.”
I shrugged.
“We need to get some information before you officially join us.”
“Uh, sure, whatever.”
“What’s your full name?”
“Tucker Brody Pierce.”
The girl opened a big, old-fashioned ledger book. Several pages were filled with a long list of names. I guess that’s how things had to work in this “new world.” We didn’t have power to run computers. Madalyn wrote my name down with neat, girl-typical handwriting. She asked me my date of birth, where I was born, and what my parents’ names were.
“Great,” she said. “Gigi will take your medical history. I’ll see you around.”
That was my cue to move on, so I slid over to face the next girl in line as Tori stepped up to Madalyn.
“Hello, my name’s Madalyn. Welcome to the Hall.”
Gigi was an equally pretty girl who asked me all sorts of questions about what kind of diseases I might have or if I had ever had any operations or injuries. She diligently wrote everything down in her own ledger book. I didn’t question them as to why they needed the information. Like Chris said, this was the only official record of the survivors. It was all so casual, as if we were checking into the Blackbird Inn for a vacation, not picking up the pieces after an attempt at genocide.
The last girl, Ashley (also cute, for the record), asked me to give her a brief account of where we were when the attack happened and the places we’d been on our way to the Hall. I gave her short answers, which is all she wanted since she was writing it all down. I expected a surprised reaction when I mentioned that we were out on the water when Portland was first hit, and that we had fought our way through the largest air-sea battle in history to get to the mainland, but she didn’t even blink. I guess she had heard all sorts of hairy stories. Ours was just another one.
I heard Gigi, the medical girl, ask Tori, “Are you in much pain?”
“I’m fine,” Tori replied, tight-lipped.
They were obviously talking about her gunshot wound.
“We’ll get you right over to one of the doctors for a look,” Gigi said.
She reached for another, smaller book and made a notation.
“You guys are pretty buttoned up,” I said to Ashley. “It’s like you’ve been doing this a long time.”
Ashley frowned and said, “I know, right? So many people have been coming through. I guess that’s a good thing but… it’s so sad. At least it helps us focus on something other than the horror of it all.”
She had said the exact right thing, but it felt kind of… rehearsed. She must have said the same thing a few hundred times. That was good news. It meant there were many survivors.
“That’s it,” she declared. “You’re all set. Head on outside and… good luck.”
“You too,” I said and headed for the door.
The whole process of being questioned, logged, and filed was unsettling. Knowing that our information might be the first census of a new world was humbling, to say the least. But it helped that the girls were friendly and cute. It softened the sting.
I went back outside to wait while the others finished up. Our bags were lined up together, with Olivia’s giant duffel on the end. Tori joined me a few minutes later. We stood together, awkwardly, not sure of what to say or do next.
“Well,” she finally said. “That was… thorough.”
“Seriously,” I responded. “I expected them to ask me for a blood sample.”
Tori scanned the courtyard, deep in thought.
“What?” I asked.
“I’ll go along with the program,” she said. “For now.”
“Well, yeah. I don’t see any better options.”
She gave me a hard look. “Are you still dismissing that radio message?” she asked.
“I’m not dismissing it at all, but we found a group of survivors right here. Why would we travel all the way across the country?”
“Because whoever sent that message wants to fight back,” Tori replied. “These people seem like they’re ready to spend their lives here.”
“That’s crazy,” I said, scoffing. “They’re just trying to make the best of it.”
“I don’t want to make the best of it,” Tori said angrily. “My father’s dead. I won’t forget that.”
I didn’t bother to tell her that I hadn’t forgotten either. I held the grief close to my heart, not letting my true feelings show, because when the time came for me to act, I wanted to do it on my own.
Tori picked up her bag and clutched it under her good arm.
“You do whatever works for you,” she said.
The tension between us wasn’t just because I hadn’t backed her up on going to Nevada. She was regressing back to her old self and closing me out.
“How odd was that?” Kent exclaimed as he strolled from the Quincy Market. “I wonder what time they’re serving tea?”
“It’s wrong,” Tori said flatly. “They’re taking down useless information while all that matters is that those planes could show up at any time and finish the job.”
“They might,” Kent said. “So we should make the best of it while we can, right?”
Olivia and Jon joined us soon after. They hadn’t spent anywhere near as much time being “processed” as I had. I guess that was because I had already given them the information about where we had come from.
“Now what?” Olivia asked, pouting. “Didn’t that big fella say something about food?”