Darkness on a Pale Blue Stone (11 page)

Her husband, the second to wake up, felt differently. While he respected the idea of a spiritual realm, he was saddened by the luxurious church decor he saw around him. To him, it was all a waste. The strict rules, legends, and illusory authority religion propagated were contrary to the real world and its followers suffered for it, whether they recognized it or not. His thoughts on the subject were brief, however. His back was in pain; it was used to far more comfortable, and expensive, bedding. His mind could only wander so long, before these more practical annoyances took over. He stood up and began to stretch.

The others soon rose. As they all began to clean up the bedding and pack, Lucas approached Gresson.

"Good morning, Mr. Gresson," he said, nodding.

"Lucas," Gresson replied with his own nod.

"I know it is a lot to ask, but after some soul-searching and sensing what I hope is God's will, I feel called to join you. This journey you are taking is undoubtedly of great importance..."

Gresson sighed and shook his head. "I am already uncomfortable with the amount of people I am leading. You are right, this journey is important. That means the only people I will consider to join us are those who can defend themselves."

"It's not just the physical world where you'll need protection, Mr. Gresson."

Jake had overhead the conversation and said, "Oh, please, Prez. Don't bring the nut-job with us."

Before Gresson could respond to Jake's interruption, or to him saying "Prez," Michael said, "Jake, you're the last person who should be saying who we shouldn't bring." Jake scoffed in protest. Michael turned to Gresson and said, "Look, he helped us out. Probably saved Jake, for whatever that's worth. And because of him, we have plenty of supplies."

"Are you going to try to bring along anyone who helps us on the entire trip to Charleston?" Gresson asked angrily.

"I do have many other things I've gathered in the back room. If I was able to come with you..." Lucas began to say.

"Is the preacher trying to bribe us?" Lash asked, amused.

"Not at all," Lucas replied. "I'm simply saying that if I stay here, the supplies help those here. If I go with you, the supplies help you and those we meet."

"This isn't a charity tour," Gresson said.

"I know. I believe it's more important than that. That's why I want to join you."

Gresson was frustrated. Part of him was tempted to again bring along the Cases at gunpoint and abandon everyone else. But as he looked around at the group, he saw their desperation. As hard as each of them tried to portray a facade of confidence and composure, he could see right through it. They were scared, and rightfully so. Their world had crumbled before them and now, before any of them had a chance to prepare, mourn, or even get more than a few hours of rest, they were being forced, whether by him or themselves, to travel hundreds of miles along the East Coast for a purpose they did not, and could not, understand. As he looked into their eyes and saw their fear, he could also see their hope. Hope that he would lead them to refuge from their shattered world. It was a false hope. He was certain that regardless of what was at their final destination, he was inevitably bringing them closer to death. But as he looked into their eyes, he pitied them. They needed some kind purpose, and perhaps it was his to show them the way.

"Alright," he said, though part of him already regretted his decision.

A few minutes later, they left the church. Lucas had given them all a share of the supplies, which included food, sleeping bags, blankets, pillows, clothes, and other survival items. They couldn't carry it all and much of it had to be left at the church. Lucas drew up a small sign on a piece of paper, which read, "Free. Take what you need and share with others. May God bless you," and placed it near the remaining pile in the sanctuary.

They traveled south, aiming to return to I-95. As they walked down the city streets, the mood of the public seemed starkly different than what the group had previously witnessed. Most people sat on porches or chairs on the sidewalk. There were only a few roaming the streets, which were beginning to pile up with refuse. It seemed that the city's populace had accepted this blackout as something more than temporary and knew that there was no where else to go. Signs of previous looting and rioting were everywhere, but for the most part, civility had temporarily returned. Several locations the group passed had become bartering stations, hundreds gathering to trade supplies. One shop owner had managed to hire protection, with three armed guards standing watch outside. An ordered line of apparent customers impatiently trickled in through the front door. Perched on street corners were various people offering religious messages, shouting gloom and doom, and urging others to travel east, west, or south. It was apparently common knowledge that only death and destruction lay in the north. Regardless of the messages, the general mood of those passing by was calm. The city was still in a free-for-all, but, for now, violent chaos no longer ruled the streets.

The group eventually found the highway and continued to trek south.

"I'm surprised everything was so calm today. I guess people were glad to see an end to the rain," Sean said.

"It's the eye of the storm," said Lash. "Now that everyone knows nothing electronic works, there's little worth looting except food and medicine. And now that everyone is coming together, there are few soft targets left to steal from anyways. The shock may be starting to wear off, but everyone is still huddling together because they have no where else to go. Everyone feels content and secure. But in two or three weeks, at the most, food is going to be scarce. And then, hell with break loose all over again."

"Makes sense, but how do you know all that?" Jake asked.

"I've seen what desperation does to people. It's like clockwork. Enough hunger, thirst, or envy, and people will happily stab even their friends in the back," Lash said, her mind wandering to her memories. All her life she had lived with and been among the poor and hungry, the oppressed and forgotten. Desperation had been her life. As humans around her acted anything but 'human,' often for the pettiest of reasons, she had learned how weak people truly were. She knew first hand what people would do to get what they want and how much it could hurt those around them. She shook her head, attempting to purge her mind of haunting memories of years past.

They had only been on the highway for a few minutes when a large company of soldiers passed them once again. This time there were many more than before. Over a thousand armed men and woman in American military uniforms walked by on the adjacent lane heading north. Jake pointed out the "irony" that everyone was keeping with the arbitrary directions that the roads designated, but the rest of the group was occupied watching the soldiers. Among them, several makeshift wagons filled with gear were being pushed. The wagons appeared to be modified trailers.

"I assume we're going to reach D.C. tomorrow. Any idea what it will be like there, Gresson?" Michael asked.

The soldiers on the other highway lane were far enough away that Gresson hadn't bothered to hid his face this time. He replied, "Undoubtedly martial law. I'm sure it's where nearby military bases ordered their soldiers to head for. In fact, it's probably where
they
were coming from." He nodded back at the group of soldiers who had now fully passed by.

"So we're going to go around?" Michael asked.

Gresson nodded. "I have no interest in being 'asked' to meet with their leadership, whoever it's made up of."

"If I remember right, President Reyes was meeting with leaders in Europe when the blackout happened," Adam said. Others in the group nodded their heads in agreement. "So it can't be led by him." Reyes had been Gresson's Vice President and in accordance with the 25th amendment of the U.S. Constitution, he had taken over following Gresson's apparent assassination.

"Could be Reyes' Vice President," Michael suggested.

"God! I hate that guy," Jake exclaimed, shaking his fist at the same time to underscore his hatred. The movement quickly reminded him of his wound, and he grimaced.

"Why do you hate him?" Lash asked.

"He has that creepy grin."

"Please tell me you never voted."

"If he's in Washington, he would have had to be at least on this side of the country during the blackout," Alice said. "We've been walking south everyday and have only made it through a state or two."

"Maybe he took a bike," Marie said, quietly.

"Or a horse," Lucas suggested.

"Why aren't we using either of those?" Sean asked.

Gresson was stunned by the fact that he had not considered these two modes of transportation. Then again, they had yet to see enough of either to carry the whole group. And both would probably draw more attention than walking. However, Gresson liked the idea of traveling that much faster, so he said, "If you see enough of them, let me know."

The group stopped for lunch when they reached a rest stop. Sitting at the picnic tables, they ate some of the food that Lucas had provided. It was a much needed rest for Jake, whose wound had started to bleed through the bandage. Gresson helped him apply a new one. Afterwards, Jake laid on the grass to rest.

Within an hour, the group was back on the highway. Later that afternoon, Jake quietly spoke to Lash. "So, if you don't mind me asking, why are you coming along?"

"Why are you?" she asked, acting insulted by the question.

"I asked first."

"They need protection."

"Lots of people need protection these days. Why these people?"

Lash shrugged. "They seem to have a purpose. I mean, I don't really know what's going on, but this feels important."

"Yeah. Yeah, I get that."

"So why you?"

"I guess I feel like I owe you guys. For saving my life and all that."

"So to pay us back, you're here slowing us down?" Lash said, cocking her head mockingly.

Jake laughed. "Yeah, yeah. Just you wait till I heal up. I'll give your headshot skills a run for their money."

Lash offered him her shotgun. "You can show off now, if you want. Shoot that tree over there."

Jake raised his hands in protest. "Hey, I said I gotta heal first. Ain't fair otherwise."

"Yeah, right."

The group stopped their walk for the day in the late afternoon. They found a motel not far from one of the highway exits. A few others already occupied several of the rooms, but the group settled into several empty ones. They all began to rest in preparation for the next day's trek to the former nation's capital.

Chapter 15

Maryland - August 10, 2012

The next morning, they all, once again, began to trek along the highway. The sun was bright; only a few wispy clouds occasionally blocking it. A light breeze blew, keeping the group generally comfortable, even with all their carried baggage.

It only took two hours to reach the Capital Beltway that looped around Washington, D.C. It was soon clear that the capital was indeed under military lockdown. No troops were on the highways, but scrawled signs were posted, either by soldiers or others, directing people toward a refugee camp on Baltimore Avenue and warning them to stay away from downtown or risk being shot.

"Happy to oblige," Gresson said under his breath.

The group soon found themselves surrounded by thousands of others when they reached the Baltimore Avenue exit. Large white tents were set up down the road and seemed to continue for miles. Soldiers outside the tents struggled to hand out supplies and treat wounded civilians in an orderly fashion. They were too overwhelmed to notice Gresson, but he still kept his group near the edge of the crowd.

The scene was chaos and the landscape matched. Several buildings were burnt out, hundreds of derelict cars littered the roads, and, as always, all of the city lights were broken. But what was most haunting was the sound of the crowd. Shouts, cries, and screams all drowned each other out, making an instinctively recognizable sound of panic, something that would last for days.

The group pressed on. Further east on the Beltway, past the large crowd overflowing Baltimore Avenue, were people seeking a different commodity: information. Aspiring town-criers stood on top of cars and told the crowd what they knew. Most of the crowd, however, seemed focused on one in particular.

He was a miserable heap of a man. His clothes were tattered, his ragged hair was long, and his skin was covered with ash and dirt. It was unlikely that the past week alone was entirely responsible for his disheveled appearance. Yet despite this, he had a powerful voice and his words drew the attention of all those nearby.

"... and ever since their arrival, they have been slaughtering everything in their path. They wear dark suits to hide their true form, but they are tall... menacing... and murderous! I warn you again! Do not go to the north! These creatures hold weapons of unknown origin. I have seen them! They incinerate
everything
! Nothing escapes! I have seen these creatures kill men, women, and
children
. With no mercy! I tell you, this is the end! Repent for your evil, or they will kill us all!"

Gresson slowed down. He listened intently to the man's words. If what the man was saying was true, Gresson's mission was far more important than he had anticipated.

"What a nut-job," Jake muttered.

They were almost out of the crowd when another man mounted the car. He was not nearly as ragged looking as the other man beside him, but it was obvious that he had also been through hell. He appeared to be in shock, with wide eyes, pale skin, and stuttered breath. He swallowed hard, then said quietly, "I... I saw them too."

The crowd, of whom most had been merely entertained by the previous man's rant, was now intently listening. While Gresson briefly continued to walk, the others stopped following and turned to the man on the car.

"I don't know what they want. But these... things... are killing people. I was in Ohio, a few miles north of Columbus, when I saw them. They... they..." He began to weep. After a few seconds, he continued with tears in his eyes. "They killed my family. They killed them right... right in front of me. I was a ways off and I yelled. When they kept coming toward me, I... I ran. But they didn't chase me. They didn't do anything, except walk and set everything on fire. I... I found a bike the next day and came here to tell whoever is left that... that these... aliens are here to kill us." The crowd gasped. A few ran off in terror, while others demanded answers from the man. Unfazed, he continued, "I saw one of their ships. My family was staying at a... a relative's house the night of the blackout. It was the exact same time as their arrival. We saw it falling in the sky not far away, but we were too scared to get a closer look. We assumed it was a meteor or something else that had caused the blackout. But now I know. It was them. And they're here to kill us all."