“It’s going to be dark soon,” Jon pointed out. “I don’t want to be outside in case…”
He didn’t have to finish the thought. None of us wanted to be around if the planes came back at night, when their laser weapons worked. If anything, we needed to be three levels underground.
“See? That wasn’t so bad,” Chris said as he strode quickly toward us. “Let’s get you set up with a place to sleep. Then we’ll get you some food and have one of the doctors look at Tori’s gunshot wound.”
“How did you know about the gunshot wound?” Tori asked.
“News travels fast,” Chris said with a shrug.
“Not that fast,” Tori countered.
“You’d be surprised. Follow me.”
We grabbed our bags—Kent took Olivia’s—and followed Chris across the park to one of the other large buildings.
Inside were lines of stalls that normally offered food and touristy trinkets, but not anymore. That’s not to say it was empty. Lots of people were there, but rather than shopping they were busy working on projects. Some were cleaning out food from the restaurant stalls and sanitizing the place. Without refrigeration, things were going bad. Further along, we passed stalls that had already been cleaned out and turned into comfortable places with chairs and couches where people read books or played chess.
Not everyone was keeping busy. We passed a few people who were huddled in chairs, silently crying. Others were curled in corners, their arms wrapped around their legs and their heads buried. Many were alone; some had sympathetic friends with them to offer comfort. It was a sad reminder of how so many lives were destroyed and loved ones murdered.
A few stoic folks gave us a small wave or an acknowledging smile. We may have been strangers, but we had one thing in common: We were all survivors of the most deadly attack in history.
Chris spoke with many of the people as we walked past, calling out a quick “Hello!” or “How’s it going?” Several times he stopped next to a person who was visibly upset just to give them a comforting rub on the back. He was acting like a camp counselor whose main duty was to try to keep everybody happy. But it was more than that. From what we had seen so far, he was taking care of these people when they needed it most.
Since leaving Pemberwick, my friends had looked to me to fill that role. I was never comfortable taking the lead and making decisions, but somebody had to do it. Now it seemed as though we had connected with someone who welcomed that challenge. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a relief to let somebody else be in charge. It was good to know people like Chris Campbell were around to help keep what was left of the world from spinning into chaos.
Halfway along the building we turned into a doorway to find a flight of stairs leading down. There was a cardboard box full of headlamps inside the door. Chris gave one to each of us. We strapped them on and followed him down below.
“This is where most of us sleep,” he explained as we descended. “There’s no telling if those planes will come back at night, but since we know it’s safer underground, we try to stay down here once the sun sets.”
Kent said, “It’s like the opposite of being vampires. We’ve got to hide from the dark.”
“You could put it that way,” Chris said. “It’s creepy, but whatever works for you.”
Kent shut up.
We descended to the lowest level of the building. Anything that had been used to run a market had been cleared out of the long basement and replaced by cots along either wall. I could only see as far as the throw of the LED light from my lamp, but I had to guess that there were at least fifty beds on either side. People had definitely made themselves at home. There were makeshift curtains strung up between now useless floor lamps to create small, private living spaces.
Chris led us between the rows of cots where people slept or read books using their headlamps. Chris’s cowboys must have pulled them from all over the city. Some people had tacked photos to the walls, but mostly the personal items were suitcases or canvas bags that were kept next to the beds.
Many people were quietly sobbing or staring blankly at the ceiling. I had no doubt that their minds had cast back to the life they had lost. It was gut-wrenching.
Finally, Chris stopped at a few unoccupied cots topped with empty sleeping bags.
“I’m afraid it’s coed,” Chris pointed out. “I guess that’s the least of our problems.”
“Speak for yourself,” Olivia sniffed, perturbed.
“Fine by me,” Kent said and dumped Olivia’s giant bag on a cot. He claimed the cot right next to hers.
Tori took the cot on Kent’s other side.
“Lucky me!” he declared, beaming happily. “A Kent sandwich.”
We all ignored him.
I went to the other side of the aisle, just to be away from Olivia. I dropped my bag on a bed next to one that already had somebody’s suitcase at the foot. The cot on the other side of mine was empty, so Jon took it.
“Try not to use the headlamps more than necessary,” Chris warned. “We’ve set up a battery-recharging station, but it gets backed up, and since it’s run by solar power, we’re at the mercy of the sun.”
“Looks like you’ve got it all figured out,” Tori said. It didn’t sound like a compliment.
“We’re trying,” Chris replied. “The food’s pretty good too. We’ve got people scouring the city, and there’s still plenty left that’s fresh. Can’t say how long that’ll last. At least when winter sets in, we’ll have natural refrigeration.”
Hearing that made my heart sink. Winter was on the way, which would add another level of hardship. Days would be short, and there was no heat. More people would surely find their way to the Hall, which meant overcrowding would become an issue. What seemed like a comfortable place to stay and plan our next move might quickly turn into a congested mess.
Once again I had to force myself to deal with the moment and not look too far ahead. The future wasn’t a happy place to be.
“Once you get settled, head over to the building across from this one,” Chris said. “We’ve set up a kitchen and mess hall. Help yourself. Tomorrow we’ll work you into the system and assign you some duties. Everybody is welcome here, but you’re expected to pitch in.”
“No problem,” Jon said enthusiastically. “Whatever you need.”
“Excellent,” Chris replied. “As long as we can rely on one another, we’ll be okay.”
“And live to be old and gray in our little basement commune here in the heart of Boston,” Tori said with fake delight.
“We’re doing the best we can,” Chris said, obviously tweaked by her sarcasm. “Come with me, Tori. You’ve got to get that shoulder looked at.”
“I’m okay,” she said curtly.
Chris softened and said, “I’m just trying to help you out.”
“Don’t be dumb,” I said to Tori with no sympathy. “The last thing you need is an infection.”
Tori was holding in a lot of anger. She didn’t like to be told what to do, especially by someone she didn’t trust… which was everyone. Including me.
“Fine,” she said and stood up, still clutching her bag.
“You can leave that,” Chris said. “The honor system works.”
“Don’t push it,” Tori snarled.
“Suit yourself,” Chris said with a shrug and headed back the way we came in.
Tori hesitated a moment, then followed. We watched them disappear into the darkness, then looked to each other in the light from our headlamps.
“Well,” Olivia said. “This is cozy.” She didn’t mean it.
“I think it’s great,” Jon said as he stretched out on his cot with his hands behind his head. “They’ve thought of everything.”
“I don’t get you, Jon,” I said. “You’re acting like this is some big adventure.”