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  Rebecca ran over to Angel, helping him to his feet, but looked back toward the buildings she had seen and noticed for the first time the group of people walking over to them.

  “Everyone stay still!” a voice shouted from one of the approaching figures. There were eight of them total, walking in formation toward them, still cloaked in shadows from the surrounding buildings. Rebecca squinted against the sun, but she could tell that at least three of them carried rifles, and they were wearing uniforms of a sort, at least it looked that way, from what she could see from this distance and under this light.

  “Who are you?” Rebecca demanded, swinging around with her pistol raised. “Identify yourselves or we will shoot!”

  Rhonda followed her lead, raising her own weapon, falling into her familiar firing stance. Max and Brad immediately snapped into position as well, both of them lifting their weapons.

  The shadowed figure in the middle eased up, holding his right hand up in a closed fist and the men around him halted their progress as well.

  “We’re not your enemies,” the man said, his voice carrying.

  “We’ve heard that before,” Rebecca replied.

  “Fair enough,” the man replied, in a calm voice, which surprised Rebecca. He turned toward the men walking with him. “Put your weapons down. We’re not here to kill anyone.”

  “I don’t think so!” snarled Rebecca. “There is no way. We’ve gone head to head with dudes in fatigues non-stop for the past few weeks!”

  “Just take it easy,” the man continued.

  “You take it easy!” Brad screamed and heads turned toward the young man in surprise. Figures shuffled as weapons drew up, metal clacking, fingers sliding from trigger guides to the triggers.

  “Don’t!” the man the middle exclaimed, turning to his own fellow operatives, holding up a hand to calm their nerves.

  “Just back off!” Rhonda shouted this time, stepping forward with her weapon, pointed directly at the man’s chest.

  “This is going to get ugly real quick unless you guys show us some trust,” Rebecca growled.

  The air was thick with tension. Silence hung low like a physical presence, wrapping its cold fingers around each of them, holding them still and steady, weapons raised, fingers ready to pull. Rhonda felt her spine tense and harden, the muscles in her arms clenching, taking a physical effort not to pull the trigger.

  “Guys, seriously, we all need to calm down.”

  Rhonda turned toward the voice and saw Angel take a step forward, letting his own weapon drift to the ground. “Is this how all of this ends? We make it all the way here, only to get in a stupid firefight and die?” He gestured toward the other group. “They sniper-shot that mountain lion from a hundred yards away. Don’t you think they could have done the same to us if they wanted to?”

  The group maintained their rigid posture.

  Angel turned to face the other group. “Come on, guys. We don’t need to do this.”

  The other seven walkers let their weapons drift down, barrels navigating toward the ground. They drew closer, the shadows drifting away, and revealing the all too familiar military fatigues, similar to what they had seen at Lenny’s Sports Emporium. Walking in the center was a broad-shouldered soldier, dressed in camouflage, a different pattern than what they’d seen before, and unlike the soldiers at Lenny’s, this man wore distinct rank insignia on his shoulder and a name stitched across his left chest.

  “Are you going to tell us who you are yet?” Rebecca asked, not dropping her weapon.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” he replied, waving at the uniforms he and his men were wearing.

  “We’ve seen others in uniforms a lot like that,” Rhonda replied. “They tried to kill us.”

  The man in the middle looked pensive. “Cleveland?” he asked.

  Rhonda nodded.

  “One of our squads was ambushed near there. We believe every member was executed. We suspect the culprits set up shop in Cleveland, we just haven’t had the resources to go chase them down yet.”

  “So you guys are actual military?” Max asked, still keeping his revolver elevated as well, though his stern, locked stare had softened.

  “Yeah, little man,” he replied. “We are actual military. A mixture of the Pennsylvania Army National Guard and units from Carlisle Army Base, with some detachments from West Point and Fort Drum in upstate New York. We’re kind of a mishmash.”

  “Mishmash how?” Rebecca asked, narrowing her eyes.

  The man shook his head softly. “Look, we’re the ones with the assault rifles here. Are we going to stand here and answer your questions all day?”

  “Humor us, okay? We’re civilians, as you can see, mostly women and children. We’ve been through a lot and would prefer to not go through much more.”

  “Hey, I understand,” he replied. “We’re a unique unit. Army Corps of Engineers sent over a few guys from Tobyhanna, and Criminal Investigative Division sent over their crew from Carlisle. Drum sent down some guys from 10th Mountain Division and we got some support troops from West Point with the idea that we secure and isolate any threats, plus do what we can to halt some infrastructure failings and evaluate for rebuild. We’ve been tasked by the President of the United States himself.”

  “He’s still alive?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He’s still alive and the core of the government is surprisingly intact. Matter of fact, next month they’re gathering a council session to talk about beginning the process of rebuilding. Leadership from most of the surviving states will be attending, and most folks think it’s the first step toward recovery.”

  Rhonda shook her head and let her eyes drift downward. “If you’d seen some of the stuff we’ve seen,” she said. “You’d doubt that recovery was even possible.”

  The man shook his head. “I understand. I get it. But what else are we going to do? How else are we going to keep fighting the fight without the hope that we can fix this?”

  “I wonder the same thing every day,” Angel said quietly.

  With a low cough, the man bent his head and swept the cap off in one hand, then held it in front of him. “My name is Sergeant Crowner, okay? Sergeant Mitchell Crowner. I didn’t ask to be in charge of this cleanup operation, but here I am, and all I’m trying to offer you is help. You’re running through the woods, being chased by a mountain lion, we arrived in time to help. Nothing more to it than that.”

  Rebecca and Rhonda met eyes, then looked back toward him, letting their vision scope each of the other seven men walking along with him. They all wore camouflage fatigues and Rebecca would have bet that not a single one of them was over twenty-five. All of them were armed with M4 automatic rifles, and each one of them let them hang low, barrel pointing at the ground. Crowner himself had a nearly skin-bald head, his smooth, sweat soaked scalp glistening from the sunlight overhead.

  “We’ve got a transport in the parking lot,” he said. “Help you all get to where you’re going.”

  Neither of them replied for a moment.

  “So,” Crowner continued, “where exactly are you all going?”

  “Philadelphia,” Rhonda replied.

  “Is that so? What’s in Philly?

  Without hardly even noticing it Rhonda let her weapon drift downward. “My parents and my daughter.” She stopped there, biting off the words before she was tempted to reveal too much. These men had partially earned her trust, but not completely. At least not yet.

  “All right. Well, if you’re so inclined, we can get you as far as Pittsburgh, then probably find a car or something for you to head the rest of the way. Probably be a lot safer than walking the rest of the way. Those guys in Cleveland are roaming around somewhere, and there’s a lot less miles between here and there than we’re comfortable with.”

  “Rebecca?” Rhonda asked, turning to look at the other woman.

  “Sergeant… Crowner?” Fields asked, looking at the man. “Is that what you said?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied.<
br />
  “Just so we’re clear. My name is Rebecca Fields, and though I can’t say what my current status is, a month ago I was an active field agent with the FBI. I was stationed in Houston as a member of their SWAT field operations team. So I know my stuff. Tactically and otherwise.”

  Crowner nodded, smiling. “That’s good to know, Agent Fields. Very good. This group is lucky to have you with them.”

  Rebecca looked toward some of the others. “We haven’t felt real lucky so far, to be honest. What we’ve been dealing with… what we’re all dealing with. It’s a little overboard for the FBI. But I’m doing my best.”

  “It’s a little overboard for everyone.”

  “The only reason I’m saying all of this,” Rebecca continued, “is so that you know what and who you’re dealing with. We’re not some slack-jawed yokels who stumbled off the turnip truck and into the middle of the end of the world. We’re still alive because we’ve been fighting non-stop, every minute of every day, and we won’t be giving up easily.”

  “Impressive,” Crowner replied. “I can see exactly who I’m dealing with already. It will be good to have your help. We’ve been… on our own ourselves. For a while now. The government left us out here and now we’re just trying to figure it all out as we go along. Like you said, it hasn’t been easy.”

  Fields nodded, then looked back toward the larger group. “Everyone on board with this idea?”

  Phil and Angel nodded hesitantly, Winnie, Max, and Tamar more enthusiastic in their gestures of acceptance. Brad stood still, his eyes burrowing into the strange men, his face a stone carved statue of eternal mistrust.

  “All right,” Rhonda said, turning back to the men. “I guess we’re on board.”

  Sergeant Crowner nodded, smiling slightly. “Glad to hear it. Transport’s right over this way, let’s load ‘em up and head into the city.”

  Brad watched as everyone shuffled after the men in uniforms, walking down the grass toward one of the parking lots ringing the industrial park. He let them all walk ahead, just standing there staring, unconvinced and uncertain. He was not feeling an abundance of trust, and even as he slowly started walking, bringing up the rear, he silently wondered if he’d ever trust again.

  Chapter Eight

  Brad pressed himself up close to the window of the olive drab military transport as it wound through the Pittsburgh city streets, flanked by tall buildings on each side. His mind couldn’t help but drift back to a few nights ago when he saw the city of Toledo being systematically annihilated by rocket and heavy machine gunfire. Now flashing in his eyes as he looked up toward the top of these buildings was how they would look being smashed by explosions or crumbling apart from rocket impacts.

  He had those thoughts a lot in recent days. If it wasn’t skyscrapers burning or missiles hitting the city, it was gunfire, grenades, or some other violent catastrophe. His parents had died three months ago and the foundation of his world had started to break apart, crumbling under the strain of nuclear holocaust, but his friendship with Max and his newfound mentor Clancy Greer had helped him start to put things back together. Those things were being held by scotch tape and had a tendency to break apart, but at least they were more or less held together.

  Then he lost Clancy Greer. The one adult he felt like he was close to and could identify with… killed by a bullet lodged in his chest for nine weeks. A slow, methodical blood infection had worked its way through his body, and while frequent jolts of antibiotics had knocked it down, it had never been knocked out. Now Greer was dead, and Brad was expected to just keep on living as if nothing had changed.

  He leaned back in the seat, feeling the cool press of the Ruger on the small of his back. Brad was hyper-conscious of the weapon’s presence, always checking to make sure it was where it belonged, just like Max had been doing. Did Max still do that? Brad couldn’t remember. His friendship with Max had become a pile of puzzle pieces that he couldn’t quite put together. He still felt very close to him, but in spite of all the tragedy, both of Max’s parents were still in his life, as was his sister. For everything he claimed to have lost, Brad knew he hadn’t really lost anything. There was no way he could know what it was like. These soldiers swinging in and acting like they’re here to save the day… too little too late. Where had they been forty-eight hours ago? Or two months ago? Where had they been when they could have actually made a difference, when the damage wasn’t already done?

  “Smile, kid, we’re going to the zoo,” a soldier said with a smirk, nodding out the window.

  Brad didn’t smile, but he did follow the man’s gaze, focusing on details at his level instead of glaring up into the sky. The soldier was right. The truck rounded a corner banking around the entrance for the Pittsburgh Zoo. As Brad watched, the vehicle made a right turn, then eased to a stop by a metal gate being watched by a handful of uniformed operatives. They walked to the driver’s window and he could hear some muffled conversation, and even some laughter. After they stepped away, the truck’s engine gunned again, and they lurched forward, heading through the gate and onto a narrow road, bearing down deeper into the zoo.

  “Nobody be alarmed,” Sergeant Crowner said, standing up near the front of the truck. “As you may or may not be aware, shortly after the events of the Incident, there were many incidents of civil unrest. One of the largest was right here in Pittsburgh, called, understandably, the Pittsburgh Riots. None of us is quite certain what the circumstances of the riots were, the government had enacted martial law before we arrived, but once we got here, the zoo had been broken down, cages busted open, and the animals were nowhere to be seen.”

  “Hence the mountain lion right next to the interstate?” asked Winnie from further up the transport truck.

  Crowner nodded and pointed a finger at her. “Smart girl.”

  “So where is everyone now?” asked Phil, looking out his own window.

  “Fear does some crazy things,” Sergeant Crowner replied. “The nuclear detonations all occurred at or near pretty large cities. Fear of further attacks has driven most of the populace from city centers, pushing outwards into the suburbs. Without infrastructure or power, the cities are considerably less useful as it is.”

  “So everyone is gone?” Max asked, watching out his own window as the truck continued down the narrow lanes, working its way deeper into the zoo.

  “Not at all,” Crowner replied. “But those who have stayed keep to themselves. There are thousands still living here no doubt about it, but they do what they need to do to survive and mostly work at staying out of harm’s way.”

  “We can’t seem to manage to do that,” Rhonda said, her voice half joking, but with an air of dead seriousness.

  The truck drew to a halt at a collection of buildings off to the right, bracketed by trees. Crowner turned toward the back of the personnel carrier and waved a hand.

  “Okay, this is where we stop, most of the rest of the zoo is only accessible on foot.”

  “So, what are we doing here?” Tamar asked.

  “I’d like to have a few minutes to talk with Rhonda and Phil,” Crowner said. “The rest of you check out the facility for a bit. There should be directories. We’ve got a makeshift mess hall up where the grill used to be, so there should be some chow there if you want it. Nothing delicious, but it’ll do.”

  Appreciative mumbles echoed throughout the transport. The mere mention of food sent Brad’s stomach lurching into a hungry backwards somersault.

  “Try to break up into groups,” the sergeant continued. “We still need to tread carefully. Like I said, we haven’t run into any problems yet, but what happened in Cleveland and Toledo has made everyone a little nervous. We’ve requested reinforcements from Washington, but the request has not been cleared. We can talk more about that later.”

  Brad knew they would be. A bunch of heavily armed soldiers just happening to show up and being willing to help them out of the kindness of their own heart? He wasn’t buying it. Not for a second. If he’d l
earned anything over the past few months it was that you can’t trust anyone.

  “So where you wanna go?” Max asked, stepping toward his friend.

  “Out of here,” Brad replied with a hiss.

  “What’s your problem?”

  “You really trust these guys?”

  Max glanced around, his eyes narrowing, then looked back at Brad. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Brad fought the urge to roll his eyes. “You mean besides the fact that everyone else we’ve met has tried to kill us?”

  “Hey at some point we have to learn to trust someone, right?”

  Brad stood and pushed past Max, walking toward the exit. “At some point, maybe,” he replied. “Not now.”

  Max followed him from the transport down onto the cobblestone walking area and as Brad walked around the front of the vehicle and made his way toward a brick underpass, Max moved quickly to catch up.

  “Hey where are you two going?” called Rhonda, lifting her arm toward them. Phil stood behind her, looking out their direction, and Sergeant Crowner was next to him.

  “We’re going to head up to the mess hall,” Max said. “See what they’ve got for food. That okay?”

  Rhonda stood silent for a moment, the various sinister possibilities rolling through her mind.

  “Go ahead,” Phil said as she was considering worst case scenarios. “Just be careful!”

  Rhonda turned to glare at him, pure fire in her eyes.

  “They’ll be fine!” Phil protested, and as the boys continued onward toward the passage, they could still hear the bickering voices of the two fading into the distance.

  “What do you think they want with my mom and dad?”

  “I think they probably want our help,” Brad said. “The guy just said they don’t have reinforcements. They’re going to try to recruit us.” They walked under the arched overpass and continued on through thick trees mimicking the jungles of Africa, and Max felt a little antsy. This looked like the kind of place where lions and tigers probably roamed while the zoo was open. Brad turned and saw Max’s face.