“You’re in charge of getting communications back up, how is that not a big responsibility?” Jon shrugged. “Too bad.” Briggs reached out and gave a swat to Jon’s arm, sending him sailing sideways a foot. “I know you live in that one room at the police station. We’ll have better housing for you at base.” Briggs began to walk off.
“Don’t I get a say so?” Jon asked.
“You do, but, Jon, you really have a voice of reason. You see a different side than I do. Like Richards, but Richards has other stuff I need him to do. I’d like you to be my right hand man. Please.”
“Fine. But I guess I better get used to not being popular anymore if I work for you.”
“Why is that?” Briggs asked.
“People don’t like you. They fear you,” Jon replied. “Not that they have reason. But you can’t be the nice guy all the time, Jonah. I wouldn’t respect you as leader if you took the easy route.”
“Appreciated.” Brigs shook his hand. “Can you do me a favor? Doc just admitted a couple of survivors into the clinic. They came from the west. Keep an eye out on them. I have a weird feeling. Just check in with me tomorrow if there’s a problem.”
“You’re not coming into town?” Jon asked.
“I hope to, but I have a team out there that I suspect may be causing problems on their runs. They’re supposed to check in first thing in the morning, and if not, I’m going out looking for them.”
“Don’t you have men for that?”
“I do, but I sent these guys out. If they did bad, then it is my job to correct it.” Briggs turned again to walk away.
“Jonah?” Jon called. Briggs stopped. “Yeah?”
“It’ll be good being your right hand man.”
After a wink and a nod of appreciation, Briggs sought his horse.
I’m an asshole, Mick thought. I am the biggest asshole ever.
He was angry and frustrated and couldn’t believe he hadn’t given Chris enough credit.
Mick had followed that gravel road for an hour until it led him to another set of fishing cabins. The boys weren’t there; no footprints in sight, and certainly no Denny Dynamite prints.
Mick headed back down the gravel road. At first he wondered if he had gone the wrong way, assuming there was no way the boys would head back to the camp. He had followed that road until it brought him right back to the camp and it was there, internally beating himself up over his inability to find the boys, that he reached into his pocket and pulled out the coin.
Then he realized how much he had erred.
Chris hadn’t dropped the coin next to the footprint and snack to say, ‘Hey, we were here’. Chris had put that specific coin next to the footprint on purpose.
The coin was a trick; an illusion. A way to deceive.
Chris left the coin next to the footprint as a way to tell Mick the footprints were a trick. That had to be the message. If not, at his pace, Mick would have found the boys. Now, much time had been lost.
At a faster speed, Mick went back down to the fishing cabin again to start over. By then it was getting dark and the footprints were harder to see. He found a second set of tracks by the lake and followed them until they led into the woods. At that point, it was full dark and he couldn’t see them anymore.
Mick had to stop; he’d start again at first light. The kids would stop for the night as well, he knew. As much as he wanted to keep going, the last thing Mick needed to do was lose more time by not following the correct trail again. He took heart in the fact that Chris was thinking ahead. That he was being diligent and smart.
He rested with his back against the cabin wall, and before he fell asleep, Mick said a prayer. He prayed that the next day he would have better luck and most importantly, that the boys were safe and well and stayed that way until Mick found them.
And he would.
Las Vegas, NV
Lexi returned from making one last round with her pneumonia patients. She washed up, changed, poured a drink, and shut the curtain in the hotel room. Not that it mattered much. It was dark outside and no other buildings were powered up. It was an eerie yet beautiful sight. She had always wanted to see Las Vegas; she just never thought that when she did it would be a dead city.
She wore a long tee shirt over a pair of shorts. The room was warm, though the air conditioning did help some. After sipping on her wine, she put the glass on the nightstand, propped her pillows and sat on the bed. She pulled only the sheet over her as she bought her legs up toward her.
Bill groaned in grogginess as he rolled over. He reached up and ran his hand down her leg. “Why don’t you try to sleep? It’s been a long day and tomorrow is another one.”
“I know,” she said softly.
“How are they?”
Her head bobbed from left to right. “Same. But I think I’ll do better with intravenous antibiotics.”
“That’s what I thought. The hospital won’t be easy. It may not be easy at all finding what you need.”
Lexi nodded.
“You okay?” Bill asked.
She winced. “My stomach is bothering me some. I knew I shouldn’t have eaten that steak.”
“You didn’t eat much.”
“It’s still red meat my body hasn’t digested in while. I’ll be fine,” she said. “Go back to sleep. I wanna…” She reached to the nightstand and not only grabbed her wine, she lifted her phone. “I wanna check.”
Bill slowly shook his head with closed eyes. “I can’t believe you kept that.”
“You never know. And did we know?” She lifted it. “Signal here in Vegas.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“I know. But it’s something to do until my stomach settles and I get sleepy.”
“Okay. Goodnight. Wake me if you need me.”
“I will.” Lexi leaned down and gently kissed the top of his head.
Bill rolled over.
She stared at him for a second. They had become close. They weren’t lovers. She supposed in time they would be. But for the time being they were close, companions, best friends. They were together. She loved him and couldn’t imagine life, especially the one at hand, without him.
After a moment, she returned to her phone. It was stupid, she knew it, and possibly a waste of time. But really, what would it hurt?
Following another sip, she set down her wine, and stared at her phone. She opened up her ‘contact’ folder. Over three hundred contacts. Did she even know three hundred people?
Lexi had a plan.
She started with the letter ‘A’, and the first person there. She chose, ‘send message’ and typed. ‘This is Lexi Martin. It’s October 16th. I am alive. I hope you are too.’
Send.
Next.
It wasn’t much of a message, but one she would copy and send to every single person in her phone.
Twenty percent of the population was said to have survived the flu.
She didn’t expect twenty percent of her contact list to get back to her, but she could hope that maybe one would reply. That’s all she could do. Out of hopefulness, she spent the next two hours sending out messages.
Journal Entry 6
I’m ready to sleep. It was a horrible day. We ran around the woods in circles and by the time we finally found the main road it started to get dark.
At least we found the main road.
We didn’t see any cars or didn’t come across any of those men who hit our camp. I’m glad.
We also haven’t seen Mick. I keep looking over my shoulder, cause I keep thinking he’s gonna be there. He has to be. It’s Mick. He has to be okay.
According to the map, there’s a town not far from here. If we get there, then I think I will know which way to go. Maybe someone there can help or give us a ride back to Lodi.