She put her head down and ate. A lot.
I said, “You’ve been doing nothing but criticizing these people, but you sure take advantage of what they’ve got to offer.”
Tori didn’t look at me. She said, “Why not? I’m not stupid. But as soon as I’m back up to speed, I’m out of here… with or without you people.”
That was it. Tori was headed for Nevada. Maybe it was the right thing to do, I didn’t know. I needed time to sort out my own thoughts. My only consolation was that she needed some time to heal. Maybe by the time she was ready to leave, I would be too.
After eating, we went back to our subterranean barracks. We were given towels and directed to makeshift showers that were erected in the bathrooms. They were nothing more than hoses stretched across the ceilings with nozzles that dangled overhead. The water was cold but welcome. It wasn’t until I was nearly finished that I realized how incredible it was that the water was still running. Just like the gas in the restaurant. The people who had survived to meet up in the Hall were a resourceful group.
When I got back to my bunk, I found that my neighbor had returned and lay on his cot reading. He was a gray-haired guy who looked as though he may have been athletic at one time, but the clock had caught up with him.
“I’m Tucker Pierce,” I said, holding out my hand to shake. “Sorry to crowd you like this.”
“Jim Hardimon,” the guy said as he shook my hand. “You’re not bothering me. Plenty of people have come and gone already, you’re just the next.”
“How long have you been here?” I asked.
“Since the day after the attack. I was in my basement that night, working on the furnace. I complained about having to fix that cranky old thing but it ended up saving my life.”
“How did you end up here?” I asked.
“I drove into the city from Brookline, figuring I might find some people. I stumbled on this group and helped set the place up, you know, changing it from a tourist trap into a camp of sorts.”
“You all did an incredible job,” I said.
“Good enough, I suppose. Most of the credit goes to Chris Campbell. He really took the bull by the horns and organized us all. Good man.”
I glanced over to Tori to see if she was hearing Jim’s story. She was pretending not to be listening.
“What happens next for you?” I asked.
He shrugged and said, “That depends on what this is all about. Somebody must have won this war. All I know is that it wasn’t the people of Boston. I figure we’ll find out sooner or later. Until then, I’m staying right here. I got no family. Anybody I care about is gone. I can’t imagine finding a better place to be living, given the hand we’ve been dealt. Can you?”
“No,” I replied while glancing at Tori. “Considering all that happened, this place is pretty sweet.”
“I’m going to milk it until, well, until somebody tells me otherwise. Gotta look out for number one, you know. I suggest you do the same.”
With that, Jim rolled over to go to sleep.
I looked at Tori. She glared at me and turned away.
I suddenly felt dead tired. It had been a long, eventful day. I went to sleep with the hope that the next day would break with tradition and be totally boring.
When I woke up, I checked my new watch. Five a.m. At home I could sleep until noon. Those days were long gone. I was wideawake and knew I couldn’t force myself to konk out again, so I got up to do a little exploring.
It was still dark outside, though the sky was beginning to lighten. Dawn was normally alive with the chirping of early birds vying for their daily worms. I did hear the chirrups of a few random birds, but nothing like normal. At least it meant that a few of them had survived.
I also heard the sound of a running engine. It was the only sign of human life, so I followed it. The noise brought me to the far end of the building that housed the restaurant we had eaten in.
When I rounded the corner, I saw a large delivery truck idling near the back doors. Several people were hard at work unloading it. They carried out boxes of fresh vegetables, bushels of fruit, and at least five sides of beef. These were the scroungers who combed Boston for the food needed to feed our little colony. They probably searched every square inch of the town so that nothing would go to waste. It was good to see that there was still some fresh food around.
I was about to head back to the barracks when I saw another vehicle approach—a bus. It was big, the kind that people used to travel long distances. It pulled up beyond the truck that was being off-loaded and stopped. What was it doing there? Dropping off the next crop of survivors? When the bus door opened, I saw that it was empty. So what was it doing?
My answer came when a door opened at the end of the building and a line of people walked out, single file, headed for the idling vehicle. One of the cute girls who had processed us when we arrived appeared at the door of the bus, holding a clipboard. Was it Gigi? Or Ashley? I couldn’t remember. She stood at the vehicle entrance and made a notation on her clipboard as each person boarded.
The passengers were mostly men, but I did see a few women. They didn’t seem particularly excited about going wherever it was they were going. They dutifully waited their turn, gave their name to Gigi or Ashley, and boarded the bus. There was no conversation. No pleasantries. No personality to the event at all.
Five minutes later, the door to the bus closed, and the vehicle pulled out. The girl stayed behind and walked to the building, where she was met by… Chris Campbell. He checked the clipboard, took her pen, and made a note at the bottom, then handed it back to her. Without a word, they both went on their way.
I don’t know why the event bothered me. Maybe it was because I couldn’t come up with a logical explanation for what had happened. Or maybe because it looked like the people were being treated like numbers on a list.
It was something I needed to ask Chris about. But not just then. I wanted to have people around me when I brought it up because I had the weird feeling that I had seen something I wasn’t supposed to.
EIGHT
A breakfast was just as awesome as dinner. We gorged on bacon and eggs and bagels and fruit and juice.
“This can’t last,” I said. “Eventually the fresh food will run out, and we’ll be eating out of cans.”
“Until the cans run out,” Tori cautioned.
“We’ll have to start growing our own stuff,” Jon said. “Didn’t you say that you’re a gardener, Tucker? You should tell Chris you want to start a farm.”
Kent laughed. “Perfect! Farmer Pierce.”
I wasn’t insulted. Just the opposite. I thought it was a pretty good idea. I knew a lot about plants, though most of my experience was with grass and flowers. How hard could it be to grow corn? Or tomatoes? For a brief moment, I let my mind shoot ahead to what the future might hold for somebody who could provide food for a colony of survivors. I could be a pretty valuable asset.
That image was shattered when I looked at Tori, who stared at me with cold eyes.
“Let me know how that works out for you,” she said with disdain and went back to her meal.
I felt my anger grow. Was I pissed at her for being so negative about everything? Or was I disappointed in myself for thinking of a future that involved accepting what had happened? Was I healing? Or giving up?
“I see you’ve all settled in,” Chris Campbell said as he approached our table. “Food isn’t bad, right?”
“No complaints,” Kent said. “I just hope it lasts.”
“That’s up to us,” Chris replied. “The harder we work, the better we eat.”
“We’ve got to figure out what our assignments are,” Jon said enthusiastically. “We want to do our part.”