After Days (The After Days Trilogy) (10 page)

The crash of a door being kicked open ripped me from sleep and I saw the cones of flashlights stabbing into the parlor as several forms rushed through the front door. Instantly alert, I dug through my jacket for my handgun. It was gone.

A form loomed over me and I
looked up to see Will’s smiling face. I began to scramble to my feet. “What the hell…” I began and immediately found myself back on my ass with my cheek stinging. The little weasel had slapped me.

Confused and enraged, I tried to rise to my feet again only to feel a cold, hard ring of metal pressed against my neck.

I froze, and in the wildly changing backdrop of shadows and light, I saw the gangly form of Luke tackle another stocky form, almost certainly Beau, and shoot back to his feet with the baseball bat in his hand.

Luke's back was to me and I saw him wind up, preparing to club the nearest interloper. He didn’t finish his swin
g. A series of three loud pops, each accompanied by a bright flash, sounded from the direction of the door. I saw Luke jerk as he was hit, and he let out a short sharp cry.

“No!” I screamed as he stumbled backwards over the legs of
Beau and fell with a heavy thud to the floor. 

             
There was a voice yelling in what was clearly Chinese, and I could hear Ben shouting to ‘stay the bloody hell away’ from his sister. I pulled myself up, ignoring the weapon at my neck and ran towards the prone figure of Luke. I hadn’t made it three feet when something that felt like a speeding bus hit my right arm and shoulder, sending me sideways and spinning to the floor.
Shit, I’ve been shot!

The thought reverberated through my mind as I lay winded, trying to get my breath back. I reached over and ran my left hand up my right arm to the shoulder.

I didn't feel any blood, but there was a rapidly rising welt on my bicep.
What the hell?
Then the answer came to me. Rubber bullets, like the ones Police use in riots.
Someone shouted in Chinese again, closer this time, and I was pulled roughly to my feet. One of the lanterns came on and I turned to look, my eyes still watering at the stinging in my arm.

Will approached one of the Chinese soldiers. By the light of the lantern I saw that the soldiers were all clad in black and carrying strange, large barreled guns. The blonde haired boy handed my pistol and Luke’s crossbow to one of them, then turned and smiled smugly at me.

“You won’t be needing those anymore…”

Without taking a second to think, I broke free of the soldier that was holding my arm and punched Will square on the nose with a beautiful right hook. His nose gushed Technicolor red and he fell backwards with a groan. I stood over him waiting, almost praying for him to get back up.
A split second later, a hand turned me and a Chinese rifle butt caught me dead center of the forehead. The world went dark.

P
ART 2

E
NCOUNTERS

10

              I don't know how long I was out, but when I awoke again I was lying face down on a cold, unyielding surface that vibrated under me. I hurt. My right arm and shoulder felt like they were about to fall off and my head was splitting. My arms were behind my back and I felt a tight pressure around my wrists. After a few moments I became aware of the noises around me, including the drone of an engine. I was in a truck or a similar vehicle. I began to struggle, causing the bindings to feel as if they were cutting into my wrists.

             
“It'll be alright,” I heard a voice whisper. It was Ben.

             
“Shush, we don't want the guards back here again,” I heard Brooke whisper back.

             
Turning my head in their direction, I strained my eyes to see anything in the darkness. It was pitch black wherever we were. I gave up and just closed my eyes again. “What happened to Luke?” I asked speaking as loudly as I dared, which is to say a loud whisper.

             
“Isaac, you're awake?” Ben said quietly. “We've been captured by a Chinese patrol.”

“Thanks for the news flash, old chap,” I said, then groaned as I rolled over towards their voices.

“Luke's in here too, someplace, probably still unconscious from his last thrashing though,” he responded evenly, my sarcasm lost on him or ignored.

             
“Be quieter, both of you.” Brooke said, under her breath. “Luke woke up when they were loading us into the back and he made a ruckus. They hit him on the back of the neck and knocked him out again. We wouldn't want the same thing to happen to any of us.”

             
“Any idea of where we are or where they are taking us?” I asked, dropping my whisper lower.

             
“No, they tied our hands behind our backs and piled us into the back of this lorry…truck,” Ben explained, “I tried to catch what they were saying to those traitors but they were too far away. You really got that little prick a good one by the way, I imagine he’ll think twice before he mouths off to someone again.”

Will...yes it all made sense now, the abundant food, the gas and the insistence that we stay just one more night. Their strange
willingness
to help us. They were working for the Chinese, trapping unsuspecting American kids and then calling them in to collect. The house was a honey trap. 

“How long was I out?”

“We’ve been driving for about thirty minutes.”

             
Thirty minutes? Was that all? I felt like I had been out for a whole day at least. I tried to get myself into a sitting position, which was not as easy as I thought it would be with my hands tied behind my back. Finally I shuffled to the wall of the truck and managed to maneuver myself into a sitting position.

Moving my fingers around I discovered that
thin plastic bindings held my wrists, they had not actually cut into me, although my fingers were starting to get tingly. We rode in silence for a few more minutes when I heard a groan coming from the darkness near where I guessed the back of the van to be.

             
“Luke? Is that you?”

             
“Yeah,” he replied, “What the hell happened?”

             
“The Chinese have us, keep quiet for now.”

             
“Yeah…” He sounded like he was in a lot of pain. 

We all fell silent; I still felt disoriented but was slowly coming back to my senses. The truck drove on at an even speed, slowing occasionally to turn in tight arcs before speeding up again. Weaving past abandoned vehicles, I assumed. Finally after another ten minutes the vehicle slowed and seemed to change course before coming to a complete stop. We heard a door slam and another short pause before the door to the van clattered open, and in the dim light we saw a Chinese soldier climb up inside.

              “Pit stop,” He said, in surprisingly good English. “You will use the bathroom now.” I learned later that many Chinese patrols had a soldier attached to them that had spent time in America as an exchange student.

             
“What if we don't have to go?” Luke said in almost a groan.

             
“Last chance to go, we have a long drive ahead and no more pit stops. Only stops ahead are to add more of you along the way.”

             
“I could take a leak,” I said, using the wall to force myself to my feet. “Thank you.”

             
“You are all going, everybody up,” the soldier said. “And no funny stuff, we're watching, and we've put away the rubber bullets from last night – if you try to run we use the real thing.”

The rubber bullets had been bad enough; I never wanted to feel the impact of
a live round, that was for sure. I stepped down out of the van with the help of the English speaking soldier. We were at a rest stop beside the freeway. It was still dark but the sky was brightening with a pink, predawn glow. At the bathroom door the soldier stopped us.

             
“One at a time,” he said. “I am watching here, and Chou is watching around back, so like I said, no funny stuff,” he pulled Brooke forward and turned her around, pulling a small pocket knife from the pocket of his uniform. He flicked it open with a snap of his wrist and cut through the zip-tie with one movement and shoved her toward the door. “Ladies first,” he said.

             
“You and Chou, huh, how many more of you rat-bastards are there?” My eyes widened as I heard Luke ask the question. The soldier turned to look at Luke with a smile, and then his left hand flashed out to deliver a hard slap across Luke's face.

             
“You have already been more trouble than you are worth,” the soldier said. “You had better hope that we do not find very many more pick-ups between here and Washington. If the truck gets too full it is possible that accidents will happen to some of you.”

             
“Washington state or the city?” I asked, flinching slightly as the soldier turned his eyes on me. It was risky asking questions, but this soldier seemed happy to talk – probably because he saw that no harm could come of it – so I took the opportunity to gain any information that might be helpful.

             
“We think it is important to take you to a work camp in an unfamiliar area,” he said, “But trucking you all the way across the country is cost prohibitive. New workers are relocated north and south, not east and west.”

             
“The city then,” I replied.

             
“Yes,” he said. “The city.”

             
“You speak English very well,” I said, “Where did you learn it?”

             
“Stanford,” he replied, “I went to graduate school there. American graduate schools are…
were
,
a joke.”

             
“You have an advanced degree?” I asked incredulously. “What are you doing on a detail like this?”

             
“Like I said, American graduate schools were a joke, most businesses and government agencies at home consider my Doctorate in Anthropology to be little better than the Chinese equivalent of a Master’s degree.” The soldier stepped over to the restroom door and knocked loudly on it. “You are taking a long time, hurry up.”

As soon as his back was turned toward the door I saw a movement by the corner of the building that housed the bathrooms. A slight man or boy dressed all in black poked his head out from around the corner, he placed a finger to his lips or where his lips would have been if I could've seen them through his ski-mask. Then he was gone, vanishing back around the corner so quickly that I almost questioned whether I had really seen him.

              “You have until I count to three,” the soldier said, banging on the door once more. “After that I will come in and help you finish up if I must.”

             
“You bloody...” Ben started to say, but Luke and I quickly stepped between him and the soldier.

             
“That won't help, Ben,” I said. “It'll just get you beaten up like Luke and me.”

             
“One... Two... Thre...” the soldier suddenly stood up straight, and cursed in Chinese. He grabbed at the back of his neck, pulling something out of it. It looked like a long sharp needle with a spongy ball at one end. “What...” before he could finish his sentence, he crumpled and fell to the ground.

             
I walked over to the prone form and bent over him awkwardly, twisting to try and grab his knife with my tied hands. “Help me get his knife,” I said to Luke, “we can cut our wrists free and get the hell out of here.” I knew the person in black had done this, but I had no way of knowing if the ‘enemy of my enemy’ was my friend. If we could get free and get the truck we might not need to find out.

             
“Um... Isaac,” Luke replied, looking over my shoulder and not moving.

             
“What are you waiting for, hurry,” I said.

             
“Isaac, there are two guys dressed like Ninjas right behind you.”

             
“Yes,” Ben said, stepping up next to Luke. “And they aren’t the turtle kind.”

             
I spun around and saw the black clad person I had seen before and also a taller man, dressed identically. They weren’t dressed as Ninjas, I realised; they were in black Kung Fu gear with black ski masks. The taller man was holding a sort of tube thing in his hands and I realized that it was a blowgun, my friend Tommy used to have a NERF version of one of them, we'd played with it the last time I had seen him.

             
“We'll don't just stand there, cut them free,” the taller figure said to the shorter one. “I'm going to go see if Allie and Arthur have secured the truck.”

             
“That guard said there was another one around back of the building,” I said.

             
“Already taken care of, before we got your friend out through the bathroom window,” the tall man said, as he walked away.

             
“So Brooke is safe?” Ben asked the shorter one.

             
“Well, as safe as can be expected,” the shorter ninja said, coming forward with a pocket knife. “Now turn around so I can free your hands.” He quickly cut us free and pulled his mask off to reveal a teenage face framed by shaggy blond hair. With the ski mask off, he looked more like a surfer than a ninja.

             
“Thanks,” I said. “I'm Isaac, this is Luke and Ben.”

             
“I'm John,” he replied. “Follow me; Sonny wants us to gather at the truck.”

             
“What truck?” Luke asked.

             
“The one you came in. Come on.”

             
We followed John back to the truck, where we found two more 'ninjas' along with the taller man. Two more Chinese soldiers were laid out next to the cab, neither appeared to be breathing. As we reached them, Brooke and another girl all in black came walking out from behind the bathroom building. The tall man turned to us and removed his hood. He was Chinese.

I must have flinched, because he immediately burst out laughing and said in
his perfect American accent, “Don’t freak out dude, I’m not one of them but lucky I have their genes or I’d have been dead meat when the flu hit.. I’m Sonny Li.”

Within a few minutes we had our backpacks back, and, luckily, also our weapons. They had been confiscated by the Chinese back at Will’s and had been loaded into a cargo trunk under the side of the truck. Obviously the Chinese didn’t allow Will’s group to keep more weapons than necessary.

Sonny had offered us refuge with his group and in return we had told him about the radio message and the prospect of a safe haven in New Hampshire. Before we left, he had changed into the uniform of the soldier that was closest to his size and we
climbed into the truck for the trip back to Worcester, where Sonny and his group were from.

The
pit stop
had come at the first rest area on the freeway between Worcester and Boston. We were joined in the back by four other teenagers, John, Allie, Karen, and Arthur, while Sonny would drive the truck. 

It turned out Sonny was a Chinese American, born in China less than a week before his parents had come to live in the United States. Sonny had no memories of his homeland. He barely spoke Chinese as his father had been adamant that he be raised as an American. The only place where this didn't apply was in the martial arts, where Mr. Li had made sure that his son was well trained in traditional Chinese arts such as Ti Chi and Wing Chung Kung Fu.

Sonny had apparently taken such training to heart. The others explained that he'd won several martial arts tournaments as a teen and young adult, and when the infection came, a twenty eight year-old Sonny had been the Sifu of one of the most popular martial arts academies in Worcester.