Reset (Book 2): Salvation (2 page)

It was a long drive and Malcolm felt his strength leaving him. Trey talked a lot. Told him about life after Malcolm had vanished and did so quite comfortably. So much so that before he passed out with fever, Malcolm had to ask.

“I’ve been so swept up with finding you that I didn’t get a chance to ask. Does it feel strange calling me ‘Dad’? I mean, with me being gone and not aging. If it does, please feel free to call me …”

“No. I’ll call you Dad because that is what you are. Doesn’t matter how old I am or how young you look, you are still my father.”

He reached over and laid his hand on Malcolm’s. It felt good to Malcolm and he gave a squeeze to his son’s hand before resting back, closing his eyes, and giving into the wave of tiredness that swept over him.

He slept off and on in some sort of car trance. Malcolm knew he was still fevered. He shivered a lot and his arm ached from his fingers to his shoulder.

Just before they arrived at Salvation, Malcolm sat up and knew he wasn’t going back to sleep. He was in awe of what was around him.

His son didn’t exaggerate.

Miles before they arrived, before the wall could even be seen, were abandoned cars. They were on the road and in the fields, a sea of them. Mixed in were trailers and campers, packed tight with very little space in between. There was so many that they inhibited anything from growing. The cars were old and weather worn, with paint missing and windows busted. Sheets and coverings used as make shift curtains in car windows were tattered and torn.

“What is all this?”

“They called it hopeful alley,” Trey said. “For as long as I could remember there were rumors that they would eventually open the gate. So people came here for help, for a better life, and for hope.”

The main road was an old highway with a narrow pathway down the center that was clear. And then the wall of Salvation came into focus.

If there was a city behind that wall, Malcolm sure couldn’t see it. The wall was huge. Gray and tall, it was a solid, smooth concrete structure. To him it looked as if they were keeping out some sort of undead invasion.

The closer they got to it; he could see graffiti on the wall. He couldn’t make out what it said and while trying to, Malcolm’s attention turned to the human remains.

Skeletal remains started on the road, one here, one there and then every fifty feet there were more, until like a blanket of snow, high and thick, there was nothing but body on top of body.

“Stop!” Malcolm instructed.

Trey did.

Malcolm opened the door.

“Dad?”

Ignoring his son’s call, Malcolm stepped out.

Bones were everywhere, in pieces. He covered his mouth with his hand, turning left to right. His heart sunk to his stomach causing a sickening feeling. The bones, bodies, cars all extended for as far as the eye could see.

“Dad?”

“Oh my God, all these people,” Malcolm said. “All these people. Is this what they do with their dead?”

“No, all these people were trying to get in. They died waiting.”

Malcolm whimpered. He saw emptiness on the way to his home and the amount of death and devastation that occurred while he was in stasis was confirmed right there and then. It was a reality check he didn’t want to take in.

“You said the virus has been dormant for some time. Is the city still closed to people, or is the wall just symbolic?”

“No, they let no one in. They are their own entity now. To those born inside, everything out here doesn’t exist. To those who remember, this is a nightmare they want to forget.”

“So they never leave?”

Trey shook his head. “It may be an empty world out here, but it’s a beautiful one and they will never come out to see it.”

“Why?”

“Dad, they won’t let me in if it gets dark and I need you to get in the car. Please. You need help.”

Malcolm obliged. He got back in the car and wondered if they’d even help him. Trey was confident they would.

“Trey, you said they don’t leave. Are they allowed?”

“I don’t know,” Trey replied as he drove. “And I don’t know if they’d want to. It’s a different world in there. You’ll see.” He paused and stared forward. “You’ll see.”

Not a minute passed after his father got back into the car before he complained that he felt dizzy, he rested his head back and passed out. Trey double checked to make sure his father was alive. He reacted to touch but wouldn’t wake up. Worried, Trey picked up the speed to get to Entrance B of Salvation.

The main gate was located on Highway 71 south of Scottsbluff, Nebraska. The rocky terrain of the Wildcat Hills was the perfect gift from nature as a foundation source for the great wall of Salvation.

Actually, Scottsbluff was the first safe city. It started there. From that, the wall it spread further, until Salvation was not just a safe and infection free zone, but a country of its own. It was as if the United States of America moved behind a great block of stone. It gave new meaning to the age old reference ‘Fortress America’.

The main entrance, in Trey’s recollection, hadn’t been used in years. The service area for trucks was used frequently. An entrance used by farmers and those hauling fuel was two miles west of the main gate.

“Dad, we’re here,” Trey reached over to wake his father and he retracted his hand. His father’s skin was hot to the touch, too hot. “Your fever is up again.”

Opting to let him rest, Trey stopped the vehicle, stepped out and opened the first gate. It was a non secure gate to a link fence. After closing it he got back in his vehicle and drove to the entrance. It was a routine Trey did regularly. He entered his access code on the keypad then placed his hand over the scanner. The metal door beeped then slid open. It would beep for thirty seconds then the door would slide closed. Trey hurried inside the entrance tunnel lit by fluorescent lights. The short journey took him into the receiving area. A large closed in space that was similar to a warehouse. Going through there was a way into Salvation. Rarely did Trey go beyond that point. Only if he needed something inside Salvation did he go in. Usually he was there to just drop off products.

Typically the only guard on duty was there talking with a few other workers. It was a calm place that operated in an orderly fashion. Trey stopped at the gate to be let into the warehouse section. He noticed more movement with more men grouping off and talking. Something seemed odd. It seemed like there was some sort of event.

A younger guard, Tony, approached the vehicle. “Hey Trey, what’s up? You’re back pretty fast.”

“Emergency I discovered when I got home. I have an injured man,” Trey recalled. “Got tetanus I believe. Not sure. Snagged his arm on some metal. He just needs to see a doctor.”

“He alive?”

“Yeah, fever has him out.” Trey nodded his head forward. “What is going on? I’ve never saw so many people in here.”

“Yeah, you probably don’t know.”

“Know what?”

“Check this out. About two hours ago the former president arrived.”

“I’m sorry. The former president?” Trey was confused.

“I don’t have the whole story. It was the guy who was president decades ago. Supposedly killed in an explosion. Seems President Duncan’s wife was right. Swore up and down he wasn’t killed, but was hidden in stasis. Like frozen or something.”

Trey chuckled. “That’s silly. That’s the stuff in books.”

“Well, apparently this shit is real. He’s in quarantine now. Man there is gonna be a lynch mob after him and they’re trying to keep it calm in there. But people are upset.”

“Understandably. It doesn’t make sense. He just showed up?”

“Yep,” Tony said. “The news said there are others. They weren’t with him. They’re out there. All those responsible for causing the virus that ended the world. Bet balls to the wall SalCom will find them. Finally, those who remember it all will see justice.”

Trey whispered. “Yeah.”

“Sorry we are rambling and your guy needs medical attention. What’s his name?”

Trey looked at his father then reached down and handed Tony the entrance badge. “Don. Don Stanton. He’s my neighbor and works for me.”

Tony slid the card through the hand held device. “Good luck. Hope he feels better.”

The gate opened and Trey thanked him as he drove through. He hoped his father regained consciousness before they reached the hospital. Trey needed him to. He needed his father to know his name wasn’t going to be Malcolm Lowe. With all that was going on … it couldn’t be.

After gathering all that we could, all that remained intact from my home, we made our way back out of my neighborhood. Jason and I were going to take the route around, as we did to find my home, but instead we walked through the city.

We did so out of curiosity and because we knew we wouldn’t arrive back to his Kentucky home before we had to stop for the evening. The buggy would eventually run out of juice and we’d have to make camp and have to delay morning departure while the buggy regained enough energy to start. Rather than doing that, we opted to just conserve what juice the buggy had and take off in the morning.

Like Nashville, Cleveland was one of the first cities to be closed down. At least it looked that way. But, unlike Nashville, Cleveland wasn’t quarantined; it was evacuated. Metal signs, rusted and worn, hung around the city. Some we could make out. Most of them reiterated for people to know their routes and exodus days. It was orderly.

No one remained.

Where did they go?

Why?

My husband and Lilly stayed behind long enough to get the letter of admittance into Salvation, then again, our neighborhood was slightly on the outskirts.

What we found was nothing less than a new forest and the houses were all that remained as the trees just took over.

There was still the downtown portion of Cleveland. Even though it was close to the lake, it had substantially more concrete, and a likelihood that it wasn’t as overgrown as the suburbs.

So we made a plan to loop around.

What else did we have to do?

A part of me hoped that perhaps we’d find life in the city. Jason wasn’t so optimistic or hopeful. He didn’t want to find people; he feared what they had become.

The city was overgrown, if anyone lived there, in his mind, there was no way they hadn’t become a savage part of the new jungle world.

As we walked the streets the newly emerged trees and foliage kept a comfortable shade over us. There was a large amount of humidity in the air. Anything metal had rusted, and moss and mold grew everywhere. Despite the fact that the sidewalks were overgrown, the base was slick with slimy algae. It squished beneath our feet as we walked.

It was evident that things went down long before the city was evacuated. This was clear when we walked through the Gordon Arts District. People had made a home out of the Public Theater. There were barrels inside that had been used for heat and lanterns remained, even though they too were covered in algae.

A pictorial documentation of what happened.

Things shut down, no lights, no heat, no internet.

I wondered how they got information?

How long did people huddle together to survive before they were permitted to leave the city?

So many questions. Very little direct answers were to be found but there was always the morning when we headed back to the car to try to find out more.

We set up camp for the night finding a safe and dry spot on the third floor Starbucks of the Cleveland Westin. Neither of us were tired, nor did we want to stop. But it just grew too dark to continue on.

The reality was, if they didn’t find Salvation, Nora knew they’d have to come up with a plan for food. From what she estimated, they had enough for two weeks. That was it. She counted while Jason slept, wanting to get an idea of what items they had.

The meeting date with the others was still eleven days away. Just like planning to meet in Champaign, Illinois; they had to plan where they would get food.

One thing was for certain, deer were plenty. They had seen so many and they were brazen as well. So used to living in a world void of people they no longer feared man.

Assuming the water in the lakes was good there was always fish too.

Jason slept hard, barely moving, but Nora had been up for a while. She gathered the items they’d carry and put them in the Rite Aid cart. If booze was one of the basic food groups, they’d be fine.

Kentucky was on their schedule. They would head back to Jason’s home for a few days then on to their meeting place. If they arrived first, that would give Nora and Jason time to think about survival and the things they would need. Realistically, Nora and Jason would get there first. After all, Malcolm and Amy went West. John and Grant, along with Meredith, headed North-East. Geographically, they were closest.

It was time to go/ However, Jason was still out like a light. Lying on his side on the sofa. Nora hated the thought of calling out to wake him so she dropped a bag and it rattled then hit the floor with a huge ‘bang’.

Jason jolted, rolled, fell off the couch and landed face first on the floor.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” Nora hurried to him. “Are you okay?”

Jason groaned. He lifted himself to his knees and kept his head down. “Define okay.”

“What’s wrong?”

“This …” Jason stared at the floor. “Is what a hangover feels like; I forgot.”

“You need hydrated.” Nora extended a bottle of water to him.

“You’re okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine.”

“How is that possible?” Jason sat up, but leaned with this back against the couch. “I saw how much you drank.”

“I don’t know. It was brown liquor. I tend to have a high tolerance to brown liquors.” She shrugged. “You on the other hand, have no tolerance.”

She watched him chug the water and then she extended two tablets to him. “Take these, they’ll help.”

“Thanks.” He grabbed them and then started looking around.

He scurried awkwardly on his hands and knees. “What are you looking for?” she asked.

“Ah ha!” He pulled forth a bottle.

“Whoa. Whoa.” She reached for it. “That’s not water. It’s vodka.”

“I know.” He uncapped it and took a long drink.

“Jason?”

“Best way to not be hung over is to drink.”

“That’s not true.”

He took another drink. “Oh, yeah? Then why am I feeling better?”

“Even if it did work it wouldn’t happen that fast.” She snatched the bottle from his hand as he brought it to his lips a third time.

“Hey.”

“Suck it up. Man up and let’s go.”

“Man up?’

“Yeah, man up.” Nora repeated. “I’ll be right back I want to grab one more thing. What is up with you? Talk about a complete one eighty.” Shaking her head, she grabbed the flash light and walked from the lounge.

‘What is up with you
?” Nora’s question played over in Jason’s aching head. He sat with his face buried in the palms of his hands, feeling so sick, he would more than likely
say
he was never drinking again. But Jason knew that wouldn’t be the case.

He would drink.

He knew exactly what was up with him.

Realization.

Walking through the ruins of Cleveland he realized it was over. Things were done, gone and different, and unless the reset button also had a reset on time, there was no going back to the life he led.

His wife and child were gone. Even if they weren’t, even if he was released a year after being placed in stasis, he would have lost his wife. She married quickly, which told Jason, even if he never was part of the Genesis plan at all, he would have lost her.

He was heartbroken. His baby girl that he barely got to know was no longer a part of his world. He was also fueled by anger because he didn’t get to resolve his life. That life, not only was never resolved, it went on without him.

Jason had finally gotten his life in order. He did a complete one eighty, he was living the dream and now it was turned into a nightmare.

Fifteen years before he went into the deep freeze his life was different. Completely different. If someone would have told him that not only would he be playing music for Christ, but that he would lead a multimillion dollar network congregation on a faithful path, Jason would have laughed.

That Jason disappeared as soon as he believed in what he was doing.

He was playing in a bar band when the network executive came in to wait for a tow truck. He loved the way Jason looked, how good he sang and played guitar, and the way the audience responded to him.

He started as a guitar player for the Sunday Service worship band. But people took notice, they wrote in asking, who was that guy on guitar?

Each month Jason was more out front, until they wanted him to preach. Could he? Of course, he could, he had watched the others. He would ‘play’ the part.

Then not only was he playing the part of preacher, he was living it. Setting an example for others. It was difficult at first, living under the Christian spotlight. Until he finally believed in what he was doing. He saw the good in it.

Now all that was gone.

The million followers were victims of a deliberately released virus. A world torn asunder. A world he preached that God would save, was abandoned.

It took two weeks after wakening to realize that, but Jason did.

Finally.

Then the old Jason quickly wanted to come back. So he drank. He didn’t care. No one cared what he did. Which made him come to another realization. Drinking didn’t really help a hangover.

He stopped, but it would be only for the time being. Jason was certain he would drown himself in booze again, the next chance he got. Drinking was easy. It was easy before in his life when he had nothing, and it certainly was now with everything gone.

<><><><>

Salvation was under lockdown. It was only the second time that Trey could recall it ever happening. The first, he couldn’t get in. Now he was inside and couldn’t get out. No trade occurred on the streets, shops were closed, a strict sundown curfew was in effect.

He assumed it was because rioting and demonstrations started in the streets over the arrival of the former president. A man believed to be dead for thirty years. At the first sign of disruption, Salvation Command locked it tight.

Trey was preparing to leave the hospital when it occurred and was told to stay. His father was in and out of consciousness. The doctors examined him, operated to remove an infection pocket. They ran intravenous fluids into his arm and a course of strong antibiotics. The antibiotic treatment would be ongoing for three days before his father could leave.

Or rather, according to the medical staff … before Don could leave.

Trey didn’t stay in the room, not the entire time. It would look suspicious, especially after having lied about his father’s identity.

He wanted to stay until his father was well enough to speak to, but he stayed unconscious. It got to the point that Trey had to leave without rousing suspicion as to why he was hanging out diligently with a neighbor.

He spent the night in the first floor lobby, since he couldn’t leave until daylight. When he was able to, he went back to his father’s room, telling the nurse he just wanted to check on his neighbor before heading home.

His father was still sleeping.

“Hey,” Trey whispered shaking him. “Hey.”

Groggy, His father opened his eyes. “What happened? I missed the arrival.”

“I can’t stay long. But … You’re here and getting well,” Trey told him, speaking softly.

“What’s wrong? You seem antsy.”

Trey exhaled. Was it showing that much? He walked to the door, listened to hear if anyone was outside then moved to the bed continuing to speak softly. “Look at your hospital ID.”

Malcolm squinted. “It’s blurry.”

“It says Donald Stanton.”

“Why?”

“I had to give a false name.”

“To get me in here?”

“In a sense. Just … whatever you do. Remember, do not tell them who you are.”

“What’s going on Trey?” His father asked.

“Dad …. When you were in that experiment, was the president there?”

“Yeah,” his father groaned, attempting to sit up. “But he died. He committed suicide.”

Trey shook his head.

“He didn’t? Trey, he went back down. He went down to the decontamination.”

“Did you see him die?” Trey questioned.

“No.”

“He’s here. And it’s not good. I don’t know what he was told, or believed before it all went down, but while you guys slept in your ice beds, the world blamed him as the one that started the plague. He emerges, tells people he was frozen, the world now has someone to punish for the virus.”

“That’s what’s happening?”

“I think so. They went into lockdown. There are riots. I just wanted you to know you’re my neighbor, ok?”

“Yeah.”

“I gotta go.” Trey placed his hand on his father’s leg. “I’ll be back, Don.” He smiled.

“I’ll be here.”

Trey turned.

“Trey?” His father called out. “Anything else I should know, in case they ask?”

“You make valves for the machines that process the corn oil. That’s it. You live alone. Kind of a hermit. Haven’t been in Salvation since they opened the walls.”

“Got it.”

Trey conveyed another smile, walked to the door and opened it.

To his surprise two Salvation Command guards stood there wearing not only their black combat uniforms, but cloth facemasks as well.

“Trey Lowe?” One spoke. “I’m Lieutenant Landstrom of SalCom. Do you have a second?”

Nervously, Trey replied. “Yes.”

Landstrom reached back and closed the door.

“What’s going on?” Trey asked.

“How well do you know Mr. Stanton in there?”

Trey had to think fast. Just on the outside chance they looked at the picture ID of Don Stanton. He replied, “Not very. We’ve never really spoken. He delivers his parts to Mr. Diaz. He lives three farms over.”

“How did you come to bring him here?”

“He showed up at my house extremely sick.”

“With his ID?” Landstrom asked.

“Yes, I guess, he was injured.” Trey said. “Am I in trouble for bringing him?”

“No. Sir, are you aware that the former president has arrived and claims to have been in a cryogenic stasis during the past thirty years?”

Trey nervously laughed. “For real?”

“Very much so. He also claims several others survived with him. We believe that man in there is one of those people.”

Trey didn’t reply.

“We came to ask for your help in finding out who he really is.”

“Absolutely,” Trey said.

“Thank you. But first, we need you to come to quarantine.”

“What? Why?”

“We have reason to believe,” Landstrom said. “He may be highly contagious.”