The Remaining: Refugees (64 page)

He pressed on the brakes and brought them to a slow stop, straddling the faded, double-yellow line.

Lee looked to his right, saw Eddie was staring straight ahead, and followed his gaze out the front windshield. He saw nothing of note. The road led straight forward, the
painted lines seeming to draw in on themselves
to a single point far down the road. To their right, a barbed wire fence with cedar posts, only a few yards from the shoulder, and beyond that just a rolling set of hills once used to pasture cows. To their left were stands of commercially planted loblolly pines, standing perfectly straight in their distinct rows like soldiers in rank and file.

Nothing else.

Lee’s eyes went back to his passenger. “What’s up, buddy? You gonna puke or something?”

Eddie shook his head. “I have to tell you something.”

Lee had been through so much, and heard so much, been shocked so many times, that he became surprised at his own surprise sometimes. He swore to himself that he should be immune to the unexpected, but somehow it still had the power to knock him back a few steps. And whenever these revelations came around, they were usually preceded by something along the lines of “I have to tell you something,” or “I have bad news.”

So Lee mentally hunkered down, determined that he would not let this shock him, not like the news of Abe Darabie’s betrayal had shocked him, not like the news of the acting president deciding to leave the east coast to die had shocked him. He was ready for this one.

He lowered his chin, as though he were about to take a hard blow. “What is it?”

Eddie looked right at him and held his gaze this time. There was regret there, and fear. “I think you’re a good man, Captain Harden. I think you’re doing the right thing…and you didn’t deserve this.”

Lee’s brow wrinkled in confusion.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said, and then he pulled a small, silver revolver from his jacket pocket and shot Lee Harden in the head.

CHAPTER 30:
THE COUP

Tomlin and Bus
were huddled over the desk, po
ring over a very short list of names and trying to figure out who they were going to speak to first, and how the hell they were going to broach the subject, when Angela burst through the door of the office, holding the hand of Vicky Ramirez.

The two men jerked upright when the door came open and stared, wide-eyed at the two women as they stood in the center of the room. The look on Angela’s face was one that bordered
on
panic and her companion seemed to be resisting slightly as she was pulled forward, her eyes red-rimmed as though she had been crying.

“I’m sorry!” Vicky protested. “I didn’t know, I swear to God!”

Bus spread his arms out
, surprised.
“
Um…Someone mind explaining what’s going on
?”

Angela released her grip on Vicky’s hand and stepped forward a bit. “Bus, you need to hear this. And this isn’t Vicky’s fault. She said she didn’t know, and I believe her. Promise me she won’t be punished.”

Bus
was shaking his head rapidly
. “I don’t even know what you’re talking abou
t yet.
”

Angela stomped her foot on the ground. “Promise me!”

“Jesus!” Bus threw his hands up. “Okay! I promise!”

Tomlin stepped in and spoke in a level voice. “
Why don’t we
calm down, folks
?
” He turned to Angela. “No one’s gonna be punished, but it sounds like pretty sensitive information. Why don’t you tell us what we’re talking about so we can be on the same page.”

Instead of responding to Tomlin, Angela turned her gaze to Vicky and prompted her with a nod of the head. “Tell them what you told me.”

Vicky’s whole body tensed. “I didn’t know.”

Tomlin nodded. “It’s okay. We just wanna know what’s going on.”

Vicky began to wring her hands. “Well…it’s…”

Angela reached out to touch her shoulder, offering gentle encouragement.

“It’s Eddie,” Vicky continued. “
He’s…uh…he’s not really my husband.”

Tomlin shot Bus a look. The big bearded man still seemed somewhat bewildered by the suddenness of
it all
, but he lowered his chin and looked at the dark haired woman standing across from him.
The look on Bus’s face was one of intense focus.

“What do you mean he’s not your husband?”

Tears were appearing in Vicky’s eyes again. “He’s not my husband! I barely even know the guy. He met me and my kids on the road, maybe three weeks ago.” She let out a tiny sob, then covered her mouth with her hand and closed her eyes for a moment. Twin streaks glistened on each of her cheeks. When she opened her eyes again, she seemed slightly more in control. “He said he knew of a place, but we couldn’t get in unless we said we were a family. I know it was weird, but we were desperate…we hadn’t eaten in days, and we couldn’t find any clean water. I don’t know anything about surviving! I was a hairdresser before all of this! But he seemed to know what he was doing, and he promised us…he promised us everything would be okay.”

Tomlin leaned
into B
us. “Three weeks is just about the right time-frame.”

Bus stood as still as a stone statue
, the only motion was the throbbing of the arteries in his neck
. When he spoke it was like rocks grinding together. “What else?”

Vicky and Angela exchanged a worried look.

“He’s got a phone…it’s like a big cell phone, or maybe a radio,” Vicky said. “He sneaks off in the middle of the night and uses it. I don’t know who he’s talking to. I know I should have said something…but I just thought it was weird…I didn’t think anyone was going to get hurt by it.”

Tomlin tapped his finger rapidly on the desk top. “
Fucking satellite phone.
That’s how he’s been staying in contact with Abe…It’s gotta be him
.”

Bus nodded.

Vicky raised a single finger. “There’s something else.”

Bus looked at her. “What?”

“I heard on
e of the old men lost a gun
.” Vicky couldn’t hold Bus’s gaze and looked instead at the floor. “I don’t know much about guns, but I think I saw it in his pack this morning. In Eddie’s pack, I mean.
It was small and silver, and
I don’t know if it’s the same gun or not, but Eddie never said anything about having a gun before we got here.” She shook her head as though she felt foolish. “I should have known…”

Angela stepped to the desk. “
I think Lee’s in danger.
”

Bus immediately whirled to the radio and snatched up the handset. “It’s him. Eddie’s the guy
we’re looking for
.”
He keyed the mic. “Camp Ryder to Captain Harden…this is Bus…Lee, can you copy me?”

Static.
U
nending and emotionless.

Bus huffed into
the handset. “Lee, this is Bus…a
nswer the fucking radio! This is Bus!”

Behind him, Bus could hear Vicky murmuring, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I had no idea…”

“Can anyone copy my radio?” Bus held the PTT button down so hard, he thought he might break the
handset
. “Can anyone copy me? This is urgent!”

Bus slammed the handset down and looked at Tomlin with alarm tweaking his features.

Tomlin
shook
his head. “Something’s goin’ on, Bus.”

***

Jerry held the dangling cable in his hand with a savage grin. He could feel the energy coursing through him like his nerves were rioting, like his blood had been set on fire. He dropped the cable and watched it droop over the mounting brackets of the radio antenna posted on the roof of the Camp Ryder building. He hadn’t permanently damaged it, but si
mply unplugged it. After all, they might need
to use it in the future.

He stood up and put on
e
leg up on the lip of the roof, looking out over Camp Ryder, nearly shaking with anticipation. Beside him stood Greg, holding the little orange flare gun. Jerry took a brief moment to grip his shotgun solidly in his hands and breath
e
in the crisp air from the rooftop. From up here, you could barely smell the latrines and the dirty, filthy smell of the people themselves.

From up here, he felt like a god.

“Do it,” he said. “Give the signal.”

Greg pointed the flare gun up and shot it into the sky.

***

A
t the sound of the flare gun going off, Bus bolted to the office window.

“What the hell was that?” he said.

“Was that a gunshot?” Angela asked, alarmed.

Tomlin shook his head. “I don’t think so. Bus, what’s going on out there?”

Staring out the window, Bus watched a column of ten men, running across The Square towards the Camp Ryder building, rifles at the ready. “Uh…I don’t know…”

When he laid eyes on them
, his insides flip-flopped around.

“Do you see anything?” Tomlin demanded.

“Yeah,” Bus hesitated for a moment. “I think about…ten guys? Running this way. They all have guns. Shit, I don’t know…it doesn’t look good.”

Bus’s mind raced back and forth, dizzy with the possibilities and unable to settle on any particular explanation for what he was seeing. He just kept staring out the window, shaking his head and frowning as though it were some puzzle to be solved, even as the ten men drew closer to the building.

Movement from the front gate caught Bus’s eyes.

“Wait a minute,” he mumbled. “
There’s
a group at the front gate…the sentry is letting them in…it looks like…
I think it’s Professor White.
” Bus suddenly snapped his head towards the radio and stared at the defunct piece of equipment, and then launched himself away
from the window. “Fucking Jerry!
” was all he said.

Angela covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh my God!”

“What?” Tomlin almost shouted. “What’s going on?”

Bus reac
hed to the top of the metal file
cabinets that sat against the wall behind his desk and pulled down the M4 that Lee had given h
im and that he rarely carried.
He shoved the M4 into Tomlin’s arms, then reached back on top of the file cabinet
s
and ripped down the shoulder bag
with the six extra magazines. “
It’s Jerry! He’s trying to take over!
”

Tomlin didn’t ask questions. He slung into the shoulder bag
,
checked the chamber of the rifle to make sure it was loaded
, and snicked the safety off
. He angled himself towards the door. “We can hold off a dozen guys or so, but I don’t know for how long.”

“No,” Bus snatched his old Colt 1911 out of his shoulder holster. “They took out our radio so we can’t call for help.” He reached out and grabbed Tomlin by the sleeve of his jacket, staring at him with laser-like focus. “You can’t go out the front door. The only way out is over the roof. Can you make it?”