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“Medical personnel fell ill as often as the general population. Contagion could not be contained. The triage centers were overrun by frightened people. Some stayed home, dying in their beds. Surviving family members buried them in back yards, medians and city parks. Those without living family simply remained where their life had ended, whether in their home or their place of work.”
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
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AT THE END OF THE PATH through the greenery, a dark archway headed into the side of the hill. A flicker of light drew them in like moths to a flame. Ted realized it was a candle lantern used as a signal fire, tiny and contained. They entered a huge underground structure, the children chattering away before him. The ceiling soared away in the dark, reflecting the sound of their voices until it resembled the peepings of birds. A faint smell of metal and grease made Ted think this must be a public works maintenance shed of some sort. From the dim light shining in through the entry behind him, Ted could make out boxy structures, wheels, tangles of hoses that were related to vehicles of some sort.
Another tiny flame beckoned. Ted tugged the cart forward, swiftly realizing that the floor was smooth so that the cart rode easily. He collected the first lantern and blew out the candle then headed for the next. His momentary pause had left him last and alone. He picked up the pace, following the sound of the children. They giggled. Some skipped along, going from friend to friend. Ted wondered where they got that last burst of energy at the end of such a long day. Or maybe he was just trying to cover his fear as they wandered further from the exit.
The next signal was at the top of a staircase. The children were already descending when Ted got there. He set down the cart poles, then helped the littlest ones out. They hurried to follow the others. A treasure hunt had started. He hoped that what they found at the end was worth the worry he felt now. The metal stairs clanged under a barrage of little feet. There was another tiny flame below them. It was hard to judge in the dark, but it looked to be two flights down. Ted shifted his assumptions from public works to trains. This deep into the ground must mean it accessed the trains. He blew out the candle and moved on to the next.
The staircase continued down, but the placement of the tiny flame on the landing indicated they take a corridor here. Ted was caught between amazement at Nixie’s find and anger that she would investigate something so huge on her own. Although, he had seen Toad, so Nixie hadn’t been strictly alone. But he had no idea what Toad might do if Nixie got in trouble, or injured.
A different kind of light bloomed ahead of them. As he got closer, Ted realized it was a door into a bright room, standing open just far enough for the children to squeeze through. He might have a tough time of it. Although he’d lost his roundness years ago, he’d always had a stocky frame. His years on the road had streamlined him, but still not enough to fit through that narrow cleft. A squeal spiked his fear until it was answered in kind by a joyful squeak and clapping hands. The kids were delighted.
The remaining few sped after the others, squeezing through the crack into the light. Ted tugged on the door, but it was rusted in place. A swift kick managed to shift it enough that he could enter. A bright shining room of tile and overhead lights. They’d come out in the shelter cubbies of a train station. He followed the sound of voices.
In the central hallway between the cubbies and the washrooms, Nixie had set up camp. She had the big pot out and was filling it with Stew-goo. No fire needed here in the lighted, tiled hallway. She plugged in the hotplate that Ted had tried to take away from her several times. He’d deemed it too heavy to carry when they rarely could use it. He was glad she had it today. The children dropped their backpacks and were pulling out bowls and spoons. Each child was required to carry those, a water bottle and a rain slicker, and if they were flush, a couple packets of train food. Some carried more, none carried less.
Nixie greeted him with a glowing smile. “Good. Right?”
“Excellent.” He sat down on the chill tile, his legs aching. “A hot meal will be very welcome.”
“Whole room full of food,” she said, jerking a thumb back over her shoulder. “We can eat as much as we want.”
“We can stock up,” he countered. Although it was a relief to find a stash of food like this, it harshly demonstrated how foolish he’d been. If Nixie hadn’t found this place, what would he have done with a storm coming in and no food or shelter for the children? A bitter anger settled into a burning ache in his stomach. This was not what he was made for. These children had come to him, he didn’t call them. The anger soon leaked away as he watched the small bright faces watching the pot fill with Stew-goo. He couldn’t fail them. But he didn’t know how to succeed.