Darkness on a Pale Blue Stone (16 page)

Of all of them, however, Gresson was the most distraught, though he hid it well. His conscience panged with feelings of anger and guilt. There was an uncertainty about him that had never been there before. As he silently led the group, he wanted nothing more than to reach home.

It was noon when the group stopped winding through the derelict cars on the highway and sat down on the side of the road to eat. They quietly pulled out rations of food and water, sharing whatever they had with each other.

Sean spoke first. "Why us?"

"What do you mean?" Alice asked.

"I mean, I was just some loser manager at a supermarket. Jake and Lash, no offense, but you were just a couple of nobodies."

"None taken..." Jake said in a way that made it clear that offense was taken.

"Lucas, you're just some preacher. Cases, you all are just another rich family. And Gresson, heck, you're supposed to be dead anyways. I think that ironically makes you the only one who seems
meant
to be living these days. But, for the rest of us, why did we make it? What makes us so special that we survived?"

"It's God's plan," Lucas replied. Jake groaned as he continued. "He has a reason for each of us. Jake, Lashira, Sean, we all didn't have to come along, but we did anyway. We all were called for a reason. If we play our roles, God can make something good come from even this."

Jake scoffed incredulously, then said, "So tell me something. What kind of God makes plans for good that involve the barbecuing of children? What, did he regret not letting Abraham kill Isaac or something?"

"Seems like you know a bit about the scripture, yet..." Lucas started.

"Oh, I know plenty about that crap. My parents brainwashed me everyday with it. So, don't give me that 'God is good and everything will be okay' nonsense! Your god is a bastard and..."

"Jake, calm down," Lash said, sternly. Jake shook his head in frustration.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Jake. But God isn't..." Lucas said

"Hey, maybe save the preaching for your congregation and leave those who don't want it alone," Lash said.

"It's those who don't want it that need it the most," Lucas said.

Lash turned to Gresson for help, but found him staring off into the distance, entirely detached from the conversation.

"Alright, Luke, how the hell do you still believe this stuff? It's the twenty-first century! Where's your evidence, huh?" Jake asked.

"Once you experience the Lord firsthand, you will realize how trivial that question is," Lucas replied.

Jake threw up his arms and laughed. "Wow! Seriously? That's your response? You Christians will say whatever you need to so you can keep believing in your imaginary friend." Jake turned to Sean. "Look, Sean. We aren't all here for a 'purpose.' We're just here. That's it. No need to get all sappy about it."

"And yet he asks about a 'purpose.' What makes people think to ask that if there isn't one?" Lucas said.

"What makes me think to ask 'What color is ghost piss?' or 'What type of cheese is the moon made of?' Just because I ask a question doesn't make it a good one. Humans are just stupid, plain and simple. Our thoughts and feelings don't make any difference on reality."

"That's quite a depressing worldview."

"It's better than your false hope."

"Enough!" Sean yelled. It was enough to startle Gresson and garner everyone's attention. "Damn, remind me never to ask either of you any more questions. I'm just looking to make some sense of all this, not a new life philosophy." Both Jake and Lucas started to speak, but Sean curtly told them to shut up.

"Look, who knows why we're all here," Marie said. "But we are and we have to work together if we are gonna survive the week, let alone figure out how to start fixing things. We're all we've got now."

The group looked surprised at the young girl's emboldened face. Hearing her speak was shocking enough, let alone with such force. Without pause, Marie returned to silently eating her sandwich, leaving the others almost unsure of whether her statement had really occurred.

No one spoke for the rest of their lunch break. They eventually returned to their bikes and continued south along I-95. They soon crossed the border into North Carolina and continued to ride until sunset. The only building nearby was a fusion power plant.

Gresson kicked open the front door and stepped inside. It was cramped, but there was enough room in the lobby for everyone to lay out. As everyone prepared their sleeping bags, Lucas approached Jake.

"I apologize for before. Perhaps we can talk more sometime, just not on a day when our emotions are so raw?" Lucas suggested.

"Fine," Jake said with a shrug.

With that, the night ended. Everyone silently began to fall asleep, unprepared for the inevitable nightmares that would follow once they closed their eyes, let alone in the weeks ahead.

Chapter 21

North Carolina - August 15, 2072

The next day, they returned to biking along the highway. A few times they had to get off their bikes in order to navigate past car pile ups that blocked the road, but otherwise the day was uneventful.

They reached Fayetteville that afternoon. The city had become well organized since the blackout. Armed civilians and police kept watch on the streets. They protected an active market and maintained some semblance of order. It seemed, for the most part, that the city had managed to avoid the chaos and anarchy that plagued the larger metropolitan areas the group had already seen, while being large enough to protect itself and be, at least temporarily, self-sufficient. It was a relative haven from the hell of the surrounding areas.

The group kept to the outskirts of the city during the rest of the day, staying clear of the more populated areas to avoid too much unwanted attention toward Gresson. There were the usual comments and curious stares, but the group went mostly unnoticed as they found a hotel to rest.

A police officer stood outside, handing out glow-sticks and urging anyone staying there to keep to the first floor. The group took the glow-sticks, thanked the officer, and began to search for empty rooms.

"Two more days until we reach Charleston," Gresson said, as they walked down the halls, which were surprisingly well lit from the windows and candles set throughout on small end tables.

"All we need to do is grab Project Blackout and leave?" Michael asked.

"Yes," Gresson said.

"Sounds easy enough," said Alice.

"Do you think anyone will be there?" Lash asked.

Michael shrugged. "Those places always had security stationed twenty-four seven. But I don't see why they would still be there."

They found a few adjacent unoccupied rooms and dropped off their packs. The room was pitch black, so they all returned to the well-lit lobby and sat down together. They talked for a while and eventually Sean suggested they play poker, pulling out the cards he kept from the gas station many days ago. They played well into the evening, forgetting about the world around them until the sun set.

The next two days were as uneventful as the previous one had been. They crossed into South Carolina and spent the night at a small farm, whose residents, an elderly couple, were happily providing shelter to wanderers in one of their barns. The farm was one of the few places left with running water, coming from a nearby well. They took some time to talk to the owners before heading to the barn to sleep.

"Seems like you both are doing pretty well, all things considered," Alice said.

"It's finally paid off to be a bit behind the times," the old man replied. He looked curiously at Gresson. "You know, you look a lot like that president, the one who got shot. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Gresson answered.

"Where are you all from?" the man's wife asked.

"A few places up north," Michael said.

"North? We've heard rumors about 'aliens' up north. Have you... seen them?" the woman said. Michael shook his head.

"I knew it was bogus," the man commented.

"So, what are you two going to do?" Adam asked.

"'Going to do?' Well, we're going to stay right here," the man explained. "That's what we've always done, and I don't see a reason to change that now."

"You're very kind to let us stay here," Lucas said.

"Eh, we got a big ole' barn that's just sitting there," the man said. "We haven't used it in years. Might as well give some people a place to rest."

"And we should probably get to that. We've got a long day tomorrow," Gresson said.

"Alright, you all sleep well now," the woman said.

They all said their goodbyes and returned to the barn. It was stuffy, but the hay was a comfortable alternative to sleeping on floors.

 The next morning, the group had the chance to take much needed showers. After they had all taken turns to wash themselves, the old couple who owned the farm took them to a nearby shed, claiming they had something "special" to show them.

It was an old diesel truck, entirely lacking in electronics and therefore still capable of running. The old man started it up as his wife stood by proudly. The sound of the engine was almost foreign to the group. He turned it off within a few seconds.

"I don't really know where to get diesel anymore, so I don't run it for long," he explained. "Dunno when we'll need it."

Gresson looked with interest at the truck, but knew that it would be incapable of driving on the car-clogged roads. He and the others thanked the couple for everything and returned to the highway with their bikes.

"Who would have thought that the most advanced technology in the world now is an ancient diesel truck at an old farm," Michael mused.

"I don't know," Lash said. "Guns are still all over. I'd say
they
are still the most powerful technology around. That couple is lucky no one less civil than us has found out about what they have." Jake chuckled. "What?" Lash asked.

"Sorry. It's just weird being one of the 'civil' people, I guess," he said.

A few hours later, the group merged onto I-26 and soon saw signs for Charleston, South Carolina. They could see the towering buildings in the distance.

"Here at last," Gresson said.

Chapter 22

Charleston - August 17, 2072

It was dark when they reached the Gimbal Systems facility. The nine of them stood among a patch of trees next to their bikes, observing the building from the other side of a parking lot. It was dark, except for the front entrance where several men with guns stood guarding.

"I don't understand. Why is anyone still here?" Michael wondered aloud.

"Well, don't these people work with you? Won't they just let you in?" Sean asked.

"I don't know. I don't even know if they are Gimbal's security. Could be anyone who just wants to keep others out," Michael said.

"Alright. Michael and I will try to go in. Lash, Jake, you two keep your distance and give us cover if we need it," Gresson said.

"I'll come too," Adam said.

"I didn't leave you out for no reason, Adam. You need to stay here and keep everyone else safe. If something happens, everyone meet back at that Italian restaurant we passed on the way here. Don't hesitate, Adam. You hear gunfire, get the four of you out of here."

Adam sighed and begrudgingly replied, "Alright."

The lot had several cars and trucks parked in it, which Lash and Jake used as cover, following Michael and Gresson who walked straight toward the men at the front entrance. Lash could see that the men were not paying much attention to the lot, but rather talking among themselves. She hoped that if she and Jake crouched, the darkness would be enough to hide them as they moved between cars.

Michael and Gresson got halfway across the lot when they both stopped and stared at the ground in front of them. Several bodies lay sprawled on the pavement, their backs riddled with bullet holes.

"That is not a good sign," Gresson said, somberly.

"Shot in the back? They weren't even armed," Michael said.

They were not far from the men at the entrance, nor were they hidden. All it would take for Michael and Gresson to be seen would be one of the men to simply look their way.

Gresson turned to Michael and said, "If they start shooting, get behind me, then run. You cannot die here. Leave me if you have to, but somehow you have to get Project Blackout and get it to the others."

"At New Salvador?"

"Yes. I cannot make this any clearer. You
must
get the project and yourself there as soon as possible. Don't worry about me or anyone else. If anything goes wrong here..."

"Let's just avoid that 'if,' okay?"

"Hey!" one of the men called out. There was four of them and they all reached for their guns. Gresson drew out his as the men ran toward them.

"You got some balls, pal," one of them told Gresson, as the men stopped several feet away.

"Look, my name is Michael Case. I'm a lead researcher at New York. I just need to get inside..." Michael tried to explain.

"Not happening," another man said.

"Who are you?" Gresson asked.

"Doesn't matter. Get the hell out of here," the man said.

"This is Gimbal Systems property..." Michael said.

The men laughed. "What the hell does that mean, huh? Call the cops if you want. Just get out of here
now
."

"Alright. We're going," Gresson said, beginning to step back.

"How about you leave your gun," one said, pointing to Gresson's pistol with his own.

"I don't think so," Lash said, step out from behind a car with her gun drawn. Jake came out as well with his.

"Well, this is fun," one of the men said.

"We step back, you step back. Nice and easy," Gresson said.

"Fine," another replied.

Everyone began to take steps back in unison. No one lowered their gun. A minute passed and the men were back at the building's entrance. Gresson, Michael, Lash, and Jake were back at the tree-line. One of the men, apparently unsatisfied with the lack of violence, began to fire shots across the parking lot, but the group quickly ran away.