with car trouble.
Collins led a Hybrid and the prisoners through a shabby lobby, into a dingy dining room, and down a short flight of stairs into a candlelit kitchen.
“I thought you’d like some light,” Collins said, as if she was doing everyone a favor. “Make yourselves at home.”
And with that she and the Hybrid left the group to its own devices. Once the door at the top of the stairs clicked closed the search for a second exit, weapons, and food began. Unfortunately there was no other way out. Cutlery—if there had been any—had been removed by Collins and their Chimeran captors, and the shelves were empty.
But there were lots of nooks and crannies, the looters had been in a hurry, and it wasn’t long before the prisoners came up with a jar of red beets, another jar filled with pickles, and the best prize of all—an unopened container of peanut butter!
Burl took charge, and thanks to his size, no one argued as he portioned the precious stuff out. Everyone received two servings, plus a length of pickle, and a piece of beet. Each person also got a sip of beet juice or pickle juice to wash down their meager feast.
And that’s what they were doing when Walker heard the door open at the top of the stairs. Collins appeared a few moments after, still on her leash, with two Hybrids following along behind. The stinks stood with weapons at the ready as their slave surveyed the room. Her eyes were like chips of coal.
“The hotel is a mess,” she announced, “and the Chimera need someone to clean out a room they can sleep in.
“You!” Collins said assertively, as she pointed a finger at a woman in her early twenties. “Get upstairs.”
The young woman’s name was Betty. All of the color drained from her face as she stood, and her mother, a woman of forty or so, started to sob.
“Please!” the woman said. “Let me do it instead.”
“There’s no need to be concerned,” Collins said woodenly. “Your daughter will be back soon.”
All of them hoped it was true. But as Betty climbed the stairs, followed by Collins and the two Hybrids, they found it impossible to believe. There was no insulation between the floor and the ceiling, so it was easy to hear footsteps as the four arrived in the dining room above. Then came scuffling sounds, followed by a series of short screams, and a solid
Betty’s mother uttered a forlorn wail, and Myra put an arm around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her.
“They’re going to eat her,” Burl said darkly, as he whispered into Walker’s ear. “The bastards are going to eat her. With help from Collins. And who knows?” Burl mused out loud. “Maybe Collins will get some table scraps. I wouldn’t be surprised.”
There wasn’t anything the captives could do except find spots to sleep and get what rest they could, knowing that the next day would be just as hard as the one before. Eventually Myra went to sleep, huddled in his arms for warmth, but Walker couldn’t. Because even though the candlelight was dim, he was sure he could see the dark stain that was spreading across the ceiling above, and he knew it was red.
When morning came the prisoners were forced up the stairs, through the blood-splattered dining room, and out through the lobby into the cold light of day. Betty’s mother had retreated to a place deep within herself by then, leaving her eyes empty and her face blank. If she saw the blood, or understood who it belonged to, she gave no sign.
The day was cold but clear, and as the column made its way northward, Walker saw three white contrails claw the blue sky. Sabre Jets most likely, flying at about 25,000 feet, and entirely unaware of the captives below. Not that the pilots could have done anything for the group other than put them out of their misery.
Fortunately for the Walkers they had been permitted to keep their winter clothing and sturdy hiking boots when they were captured, but not all of their fellow captives were so lucky. Some of the prisoners wore relatively light clothing and had been forced to supplement it with whatever they could lay their hands on. There were blankets that they wrapped around themselves, and rags which were bound around their feet in order to combat frostbite. So it was a scraggly-looking group that followed the highway past houses that stared unseeingly at the road, mangled cars that had been destroyed from above, and crow-pecked bodies clothed in suits of glittering frost.
An hour passed, then two, before the column arrived at a major intersection where another group of prisoners stood waiting. Walker took notice of a sign, and realized they had crossed into Wisconsin, having bypassed Rock-ford.
There was a momentary pause as the Hybrids communicated with one another via stink-speech, followed by new orders from Collins, who seemed eager to assert her dubious authority over the newcomers.
“Form a column, keep your mouths shut, and start walking.”
They weren’t supposed to talk to each other, but it was easy to get away with, so long as Collins was out of earshot. So Walker fell into step next to Burl and kept his voice low. “So what’s your theory, Harley? Where are the stinks taking us? And why?”
“I don’t know,” Burl admitted. “But you’re the Secretary of War, so you tell
Walker was silent for a moment. They had been careful to maintain their false identities, fearing that if the stinks knew who they had, they might try to take advantage somehow. But given how many times Henry’s face had been in the papers, he supposed the deception couldn’t last forever. He glanced at Burl. “How long have you known?”
“Since last night,” the other man answered. “Back in the hotel. A newspaper was lying on a counter. It was more than a month old—and you were on page two. The reporter quoted you as saying that everything is under control and we’re going to win.” Burl offered a sly grin. “Would you like to revise that?”
Walker winced. “Yeah, I would. Things aren’t going well—but I still believe we can win.
Burl’s eyebrows rose.
“Really? Please share.”
Walker knew he should share. Because if anything were to happen to him, Myra would need help getting the recorder to Freedom First. So he told Burl the whole story, and once he was done, the other man nodded.
“You’re right, Henry. Assuming what you say is true, the recording is important.
That made Walker feel better, and the hours seemed to pass more quickly as the group marched through farm country. The skies continued to be clear and the sun actually helped to warm them. On one occasion Walker saw three figures stalking along the distant horizon. Thanks to the briefings received over the last year, he recognized them as Chimera-made Goliaths. The gigantic, four-legged machines were nearly two hundred feet tall, and heavily armed. The fact that the mechs could move around with total impunity during daylight hours was further evidence of the extensive footprint that the Chimera had been able to establish in North America.
Another column of human prisoners joined theirs about an hour later, which suggested that the Chimera were scouring the countryside for humans, and herding the prisoners to a central location of some sort.
Night was falling by that time, and as the column continued its way north, Collins was there to urge everyone on. “Pick up the pace!” she ordered sternly as a Hybrid accompanied her back along the column. “We’re almost there. Or would you like to sleep out in the open tonight?”
None of them knew where “there” was, but none of them wanted to sleep in the open, so the prisoners kept going. And as they did, the Hybrids led the group past a sign that read “Hasbro Mining,” turned right onto a well- churned secondary road, and toward a scattering of bright lights that lay ahead. Huge pieces of half-seen machinery loomed in the shadows to either side, as well as buildings that threatened to disappear into the gathering gloom and the dry snowflakes that were beginning to fall as the temperature dropped.
And then they were “there,” being led around the edge of an open pit mine, which was lit by pole-mounted work lights. Walker could see an access road that corkscrewed down into the bottom of the depression, the shantytown that had been constructed there, and three flickering bonfires around which dozens of people were huddled.
