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“People ran or staggered away from their losses. As the infrastructure of our society crumbled, travel became more difficult. Abandoned cars blocked streets. Hotels shut down due to lack of staff. Refugees slept on the sides of the road. Finally, the government had the train lines open their storm shelters for emergency housing.”
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
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TED’S HEART POUNDED in his chest as he hurried back to the children. How quickly would the soldier get back to his base, and how much time did they have before more soldiers came to investigate the attack? He reasoned that it would take a little time to get the story and load the soldiers. He was sweaty and breathless by the time he nipped through the back door.
“What?” Nixie met him on the stairs.
“Soldiers killed the men. We need to go,” Ted sputtered.
“Where are the soldiers?” she whispered.
“Gone, but not for long, I’m afraid.”
She gave him a look that made him think he’d forgotten something important. Seeing his blank look, she elaborated. “The storm.”
Ted listened for five heartbeats. Thunder rumbled almost on cue. “We can go back down to that big place where we came in. I don’t think it’s safe to stay here right now. And as soon as it stops raining, we have to leave.”
Nixie looked at him for one more minute. Ted couldn’t read her face, but he knew she was as disappointed as he was. He had hoped this would be a safe place, and once again, he was wrong.
Nixie got the children packed up and headed down the stairs in record time. While they were filling canteens and jugs with water, Ted ran down to the store room with one of the big bags they used for foraging. Toad emerged from some corner to follow him. They filled the bag with food as quickly as possible. All the time, Ted listened for a sound from the tracks. His heart banged so hard he thought it would shake him to pieces. Toad scooped up armfuls of packets, dumping them into the bag Ted held open with shaking hands.
A feather-soft breeze smelling of dust and hot metal wafted against his sweaty cheek. Was it the air scrubbers or a train on the tracks?
“We have to go,” he slung the sack over one shoulder, tottered slightly at the uneven weight and started across the platform.
“But all the food.” Toad pointed at the piles of unclaimed food.
Ted kept walking. Toad would either keep up or go his own way. Nixie must have finished first because there was no sign of her as he tromped back through the shelter area. Since the door was open wide, he didn’t have to shift the sack to get through, but leaving it open was an invitation for investigating. He dropped the sack to wrestle the rusty door shut. Toad squeezed through at the last minute, then helped push it all the way shut. That put the tunnel in total darkness. After the brightly lit station, Ted felt blind. He reached out in the darkness, looking for the sack.
“I’ll do it,” Toad said.
Ted heard the rustle and thump as the young man hefted it over his shoulder. He was relieved to have help. Finding his way in the dark would be hard enough without two hands to guide him. Toad didn’t seem to have that problem. Ted followed him, hoping that he was headed for the other children. They climbed two flights of stairs toward a very faint light.
By the time they reached the top, Ted could hear the sound of young voices. He trailed Toad across the wide expanse of the maintenance shed in the weak light coming from the entrance. There were wheels and hoses, pipes and benches with racks of tools. Toad detoured around things as though he’d worked there for years. Ted wondered about his eyesight because Toad was obviously functioning at a higher level.
Behind a rusted old hulk, a row of workbenches backed on to a narrow hallway. Down the hallway was a row of doors. Ted saw a thin sliver of light shining under one. Toad chose that one and entered without any hesitation. Ted hurried to join him.
Inside was a large break room with six big tables, brightly colored plastic chairs, an old refrigerator, lockers and a sink. Nixie had turned on the overhead lights. The room felt too bright to Ted’s eyes. The children sat at the tables waiting patiently. Toad carried his sack over to Nixie, who had once again set up her hotplate. Ted let out a sigh of relief. They would all have a good breakfast.
“I’ll check our back trail,” he said. He stood in the hallway waiting for his eyes to readjust to the dim light. This seemed like a good place for them to hole up for awhile. They could wait out the storm with no one the wiser. He went back to the stairwell. He could just make out the footprints of the children in the old grime on the floor. He peered into the darkness, checking for any trail they’d left, but the children had scattered across the floor leaving scores of scuffs and shuffles. There wasn’t a lot to disguise. A damp breeze blew in from the big door, swirling dust and a mist of rain across the room. The weather might do his work for him.
He shifted things on wheels into the path they’d taken. Then he moved some junk to partially block the hallway. He found a pile of tarps and dragged one down the hall to block the light from under the door. Ted went in, blinking in the bright light. The room smelled of Stew-goo. There was another door at the back of the room. Ted peeked through to find another, smaller hallway. This one had restrooms and storerooms. He checked out the men’s room, delighted to find showers. He poked around, checking to see if the water still ran and if it would get hot. The pipes grumbled before spitting out some stagnant smelling water. After they ran for a little bit, the water got hot.
By the time he returned, Nixie was dishing out breakfast. He looked at all the little ones lined up, bowls in hand, intense looks on their faces as they watched Nixie fill each bowl ahead of them. “There’s plenty for all of us,” Ted said. And he planned to make sure that was true.