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A few fragments of military or government hung on long past their usefulness. As long as they had connections to food growers they persisted.
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
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NICK TOOK A LONG HOT shower to get rid of the dirt and stink of the road. He and Wisp had left Epsilon in Ruth’s care. That was a puzzle he wasn’t equipped to solve. After a short night in the shelter cubbies, they’d come back by train. It had seemed a quicker option considering the state of Epsilon’s injuries. He had no idea where Wisp was, but he felt the need to check in with everyone.
The hallway wasn’t quite as crowded as yesterday. He hoped that meant things were finally calming down. He checked Angus’s office but was blocked by a rather aggressive secretary.
“You have to make an appointment,” the steely-eyed woman said. She had a small desk in front of Angus’s door blocking access.
“I just want to let him know I’m back in case he needs me for something,” Nick said grumpily.
“And you are?” She glared at him over the edge of a clipboard.
“Nick.”
“Trader Nick?”
“There are other Nicks?”
She pursed her lips. “It’s not a unique name.”
“Yes, I’m Trader Nick.” He tried hard not to snarl. When they were rebuilding the world, he hadn’t realized that bureaucracy would raise its ugly head.
She put her clipboard to one side. “He is meeting with Martin in the Strategy Room.
Nick nodded his thanks before walking away. It never helped to antagonize the watchdog. He knocked on the closed door to the Strategy Room. Young Joe let him in. The tone of the room had him immediately on alert. All of the militias were present. Young Joe, head of the Rovers, Toby, head of the Sentinels and Tall Joe, head of the Watch sat with Martin, Angus, and a stranger. He was a thin, nervous little man who looked vaguely familiar.
The man turned and shyly smiled. He rose from his seat at the table to offer Nick a hand. “You said I would be welcome here.”
As soon as he heard the voice, he recognized him. Nick had met him in the pressgang’s holding tent when he’d gone undercover. “Arnold! Yes, of course, you’re welcome. What made you give up the rich life working for the president?”
“Things changed,” he responded in a sad voice.
“Arnold has been bringing us up to date about the president and Washburn,” Angus said. “Come join us, Nicky. Maybe you can help us figure out what this means.”
Nick took a seat at the table. Arnold went back to his seat and folded his hands in his lap staring at them.
Martin shifted some papers, but when Arnold didn’t look up, he took the lead. “Washburn withdrew his men from the president’s building.”
“Huh,” Nick grunted acknowledgment. “So he’s planning something.”
“I’d like to know what,” Martin grumbled.
Nick thought through a couple of scenarios. “Arnold, did you run out of food?”
The thin man jerked upright. “How did you know?”
“Tell us what happened,” Nick said gently.
“Well, one day we went down to breakfast, and everything was different. The cooks said that they hadn’t gotten their usual delivery from the farm. I just thought it might be a delay of some kind.” He leaned forward to softly add, “You know the roads are in very poor shape.”
“Of course,” Nick said encouragingly.
“I didn’t notice the guards leaving. I mean, they’re always there in the hallways, but they don’t do anything. I was supposed to be calculating possible yields on the coming harvests by crop.” He nodded at his hands in his lap. “When I went to get the latest report from the field, I realized no one had brought in the reports. That was something the soldiers did for us. They went out to the farm to collect the reports.” He raised a thin shoulder in a half shrug. “So I went to tell my supervisor, but she was gone.” He raised a shaking hand to cover his eyes for a moment. “All the women were gone. That’s when I knew something bad was going to happen. And I thought of you. And you were so good to me when the press-gang took us.” He wiped at his eyes.
“Take your time Arnold,” Angus said gently. “Can we get you a cup of tea?”
Arnold shook his head, then wiped at his face. “I grabbed some papers and walked out of the building. I don’t know what I was thinking. That maybe I could tell them I was collecting the reports?” Arnold shivered. “There was a car in the parking lot. I took it. I drove back to the Cold Springs Station. There wasn’t any train food there. I didn’t know what to do, so I came here.”
“That was a smart thing to do. Go down to the cafeteria and tell them you just arrived. They’ll put a meal together for you,” Nick said.
“I, I’ve been thinking about this. And I think there is a big...problem,” Arnold said in a near whisper.
“We’d appreciate your thoughts,” Angus said sincerely.
Arnold stared at him for a long moment. “You mean that.”
“I do.”
“Washburn’s men hated me. Called me names.” Arnold’s shoulders slumped.
“You were a number cruncher right?” Nick asked.
“I was a mathematics professor,” Arnold said with a slight flinch.
“Oh!” Angus sat up sharply. “Well, I don’t know whether we should put you in the school, or send you to work with Kyle...”
“School?” Arnold looked to Nick, his eyes wide. “Who’s Kyle.”
“We’ve got a school going for the children,” Nick explained. “Kyle is our chemist. He’s been doing some research for us.”
“You...” Arnold shook his head. “You have a school.” He heaved a shaky sigh. Nick worried that he would burst into tears.
“We can discuss where you’d like to work after you’ve rested. Can you tell us about the problem?” Nick asked, steering him back to the important issues.
“Yes. “ Arnold sat a little straighter. “Tonya was our kitchen supervisor. She told me that there was trouble at the farm. A family farm, you see, but the sons didn’t agree with their father’s plan to work with Washburn.” He lowered his voice to a furtive whisper when he named The General. “And the father died. About a week ago. Tonya said that the sons took off. I didn’t understand, at the time, what the repercussions might be.”
“No one to pick up the work,” Martin said. “That’s where the men went. Someone has to keep that farm running, or they’re all out of food.”
“Do you know where the sons went?” Nick asked.
Arnold shook his head, eyes as sad as a hound dog. “I’m sorry, no.”
Martin pushed away from the table making Arnold flinch. “We need to increase our scouts on the perimeter.”
Although he knew it might make things worse, Nick brought up another subject. “Arnold, do you know anything about the ministries?”
“Um, not much.” His eyes flickered to Nick and away. “I wasn’t supposed to be in that section.”
“I know the train food people had a militia,” Nick said, dragging up the bits and pieces of hearsay he could remember. “Gray uniforms. I guess they guarded the farms and factories?”
The thin shoulder rose in a shrug again. “I think they’re gone.” He leaned forward. “It’s just supposition on my part, but I believe the remains of that...um...militia was disbursed into the press gangs, or they joined up with Washburn.”
“How about the vaccine centers?” Angus asked.
Arnold shuddered. “I read about a terrible accident at one of them. They made a mistake, and everyone died.”
“Not everyone,” Nick corrected.
“There were three that were active just after that, but no one has heard from them in weeks.” He glanced at the doorway nervously. “The president wanted Washburn to send some men out to check on them, but he said no. He said no. I should have realized then that trouble was coming.”
Martin signaled that he was done. Nick patted Arnold on the shoulder. “Let’s get you that meal.”
“I would appreciate something to eat.”
“You’ve more than earned it.”
***
NICK INTRODUCED ARNOLD to the Greeting Committee and left the nervous little man in their care. He was on his way back to the Strategy Room when he saw another person that looked familiar. She was standing just outside the infirmary, staring at the door with a peculiar intensity. Her long brown hair could use a good brushing, and her clothes looked like she’d slept in them.
“Do you need help?” Nick asked.
She startled at his voice but didn’t flinch away. “No. I just...” She frowned at him. “You’re the man in the boat.”
It finally clicked where Nick had met her. “You’re Helen, James’s friend.”
“Wife,” she corrected. There was a flash of defiance in her eyes.
“Right.” Nick let it pass. She’d soon realize that nobody here would give her trouble about her relationship with a biobot. “Did you need a doctor?” He gestured to the infirmary door that she’d been staring at.
“Oh, no, I heard...well Ted told me that he was one of James’s brothers. And that another one had a wife?”
Nick could see her intent, but doubted that she’d get much support from Ruth. “I’m not sure what they consider their relationship. And I don’t think Ruth would react kindly to being called anyone’s wife. Have you met Wisp yet?”
Helen shook her head. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t James tell me he had brothers?”
“How did you meet?” Nick asked. He needed to turn things around to make sense of them for her.
“I’m a surgical nurse. We used to work together. And then when everything fell apart, we stayed together. He kept us safe. He’s very smart.”
“So you first met James when he was property.”
The flash of defiance was back in her eyes. “He was a Navy surgeon.”
“No, he was owned by the Navy. And there probably wasn’t any good reason for him to talk about the lab where he was designed or the other biobots in his generation.”
Her brow wrinkled in a worried frown. “I never think of him as a biobot. It never came up when we worked together. He’s just as human as you are.”
“You won’t get an argument from me,” Nick said, putting his hands up in surrender. “High Meadow considers biobots as human beings. They’re safe here.”
“Are all of them here?”
“Wisp is in and out. Kyle has a lab here and does research. Ted is in and out also.”
“Looking for children.”
“Yes. We just brought Epsilon in. He’s very...ill.”
Helen cocked her head. “Is he from the Epsilon Institute?”
Nick shrugged. “Never heard of it.”
“James had a good friend from the Institute. His name was Peter Evans. He was the son of the founder. But there were some rumors... Is he here?”
Nick led her into the infirmary to see if Epsilon was there. He’d been so restless that restraining him might have made his injuries worse, so they’d let him roam. There were a couple of beds filled with newcomers in rough condition. Some of them had infected wounds on their feet from walking so far. He found Epsilon’s bed and was relieved to see him sleeping.
Helen gasped at the sight of him. She scurried back to the hallway. “That’s him!” she whispered. “My God, that’s Peter Evans. What happened to him?”
“We haven’t figured that out yet.”
“James used to write to him all the time. I never knew they were brothers.”
“It’s good to know that he went by another name. I’ll let folks know that we should call him Peter.”
“I didn’t know he was a biobot.”
“There are a lot of good reasons not to advertise that.”
Helen looked even more lost than before. “Will he be able to get away?”
It took Nick a moment to follow her tangent. “James?”
She nodded without looking at him. “Now that Washburn has no hostages.”
“Things are changing. I think Washburn might have more on his plate right now than worrying about the orphanage. It’s just blind luck that Ted took his chance when other things were happening.”
“What other things?”
“How did you get food?” Nick asked.
“We used train food mostly. There was a vegetable garden at a house nearby, and I tried to keep it going. And Washburn sent us some food.”
“But not lately,” Nick guessed.
Helen tipped her head. “His visits were erratic and never announced, but we hadn’t seen him in awhile. That’s why I thought we might actually get away when Ted arrived.”
Taken with what Arnold had said, Nick had the feeling that things were getting complicated for Washburn. Intimidation wasn’t the best foundation for a government. “People are too fearful,” he grumbled.
She gave him a curious look.
“We’ve been working hard to grow a real village here. We’ve got all the layers and checks and balances that you need. Washburn just takes what he wants. He strong-arms people into doing what he wants. But people nowadays don’t trust. They can’t. Those of us that knew the world before are so damaged we can barely function. He tries to take advantage of that. It can’t last. At some point, you get tired of being afraid, and you walk away from it.”
“Like I did,” she said thoughtfully.
“If he can’t feed his men, they’ll try to leave. He can’t lock them all up. Next flu season he might lose his prison guards. That’s what finally shut down the train food factories. Too many guards died to keep the slaves working.”
“Slaves?”
“That’s what the press gangs were for. Where all the parents went. To keep the factories running to feed the guards and their superiors.”
“So you think things will fall apart for him?”
There was a fragile hope in her eyes that he hated to dash. So he lied. “Bound to happen.”