CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.” —Mahatma Gandhi
Sister Ann had been upset by my revelation, but not terribly so. She was more irritated at the secrecy and less about the supplies I’d stolen to keep the lying jerk alive. We had a lot going on, and King Dale was still out there, waiting. Watching. Still, it was a lesson learned. Not just by me, but by everyone on campus. Staying watchful and vigilant while keeping an eye out for survivors. There weren’t many—the school could easily house five hundred students and half as many staff—but some new arrivals brought the total up to fifty souls who now called St. Dominic’s home.
Winter slowly began to fade. The one-year anniversary of the Pacific Flu destroying the world hit us before we even knew it. On the shortwave, we listened in on the various stations as Wolf Squadron started taking different small areas of the mainland. Sister Ann was particularly happy about some place called Blount Island being cleared but she didn’t explain why. I guessed it was one of the places she’d been stationed at in her past life.
More good news appeared. Apparently the nutjob who’d proclaimed that anyone shooting shamblers would be tried in a court of law was given something the announcer on Devil Dog Radio called an “I love me” jacket after the real president had been found. Well, the Vice President, but once she was sworn in, everything was back to shambler clearance with a smile and a nine.
With spring fully in the air, we were starting to feel a little more alive. Winter had been cold but, with the exception of a massive late January storm that dumped about a foot of snow on us, it’d been pretty calm.
We went to Temple’s place and cleaned out his stuff. The sealed gas cans, it turned out, were still good, so we had extra fuel now. Finlay and Fiona said they knew how to siphon gas out of a vehicle but Sister Ann didn’t want them doing that just yet. We weren’t desperate enough, I guess.
The number of shamblers we were spotting was down to almost none. If we spotted a shambler, either Ulla, Temple, or I would shoot it. Since they were few and far between now—apparently shamblers hated the cold about as much as I did—we were doing great by conserving our ammo. Still, there’d been a lot more of them when King Dale was first trying to build his bridge and cross the Jackson River. So we all found ourselves asking the same question: Where’d they all go?
My emotions were still in turmoil after Colton’s betrayal, but obsessing over how he’d lied to me was a welcome distraction from the conflicting emotions I’d been having after killing King Dale’s man. Sister Ann’s suggestion of the “camping trip” to the ranger station had been a surprisingly effective balm to the pain and hurt I was dealing with.
There’d been no sign of Colton by the ranger station or down by the house he’d been staying at. He must have scurried back home to King Dale. Probably a good thing. He hadn’t shown his face anywhere near campus, either, after I’d threatened to shoot him. Apparently, he believed that I would, in fact, put a bullet in him. Who knew I could be as intimidating as Sister Ann?
More survivors turned up. Small groups, no more than two or three at a time. After they were thoroughly vetted (Sister Ann called it that), they were set up in the least-damaged cottages. Since each of the senior cottages was supposed to be able to comfortably house forty teenage girls, there was little difficulty finding enough room for those who arrived. They were in charge of cleaning it up, not us. Most had no issues with it. One or two complained once to Sister Ann. I don’t know what she told them, but they never complained again.
That nun was terrifying.
A few were good with tools and were able to help rebuild, repair. Doors were fixed and cottages were cleaned. Lots of ruined carpet was dug up and thrown away. We discovered that the hardwood flooring beneath was in remarkably good shape. Sometime in the ’80s someone decided it was a good idea to cover the wood with carpet. That person should have been brought up on criminal charges. However, they cleaned up well enough. If we ever got a power sander working again, the bloodstains would probably come right out.
Things were beginning to look up. More new arrivals had brought more canned goods The school could hold over six hundred people comfortably, so we weren’t worried about space yet. Food concerns? Definitely. Our stock supplies were going up, though. Deer were everywhere, and there wasn’t a game warden around to yell at us for shooting bucks out of season. I tried not to shoot any does, though. Sister Ann reminded me constantly that they were next year’s food supply. There were plenty of fish in Dunlap Creek and the Jackson River. King Dale and his cronies were no longer coming into Covington, so we were actually able to explore a little more while looking for any supplies that hadn’t been ruined by the flooding. Unfortunately, it appeared that Dale’s men had been thorough and got everything of value out before shutting down our access by blocking the freeway.
Boundaries, Sister Ann had told us, were set. He’d blocked our access points down I-64, sure, but was avoiding direct confrontation. Meanwhile, we had everything on our side of the river—and also Covington. That was fine by me. Some of the younger girls—and a few on the council—were starting to talk about the worst of it being over.
Like spring, hope was in the air. The garden was expanded. There were plans to start clearing out the chapel next. It was more symbolic than functional, true. But Sister Ann had a valid point: Goals give people purpose. Without purpose, we are lost in the middle of an unending ocean, rudderless, subject to the waves of chance to take us in whatever direction. With purpose we could start to truly rebuild society. It’d been a pretty powerful speech. I remembered most of it.
Of course, the cold water of reality dashed away that hope the moment we found the two men walking up the road toward campus. Well, one was walking, barely. The other was being dragged behind in what appeared to be a makeshift gurney.
Dee was the one who spotted the duo as they reached the base of the mountain. Kayla, who had taken the middle schooler under her wing the same way I had with Ulla, was on duty with her and had the radio. They called it in to Sister Ann and me before bolting up the hill and to safety. Thanks to King Dale, we’d had to change how our guard duty worked. He knew about the back entrance now, courtesy of Colton, so we had to double the watch. Fortunately, we had enough new people who were willing to work to cover this.
Since I was mostly over my issues about shooting shamblers, I was able to slip into the role of the intimidator. Well, okay. Maybe a little intimidating. Just enough to let them know that I meant business. I was a little jealous, though. Sister Ann could do it with just a look.
“Stop at the bridge!” I shouted as soon as they started to make their way up the road. After a few moments I realized that the gurney was one of those garden wagons my mom had used back in California, though this one was black and not green like ours had been.
The man obeyed, stopping just at the start of the bridge over Dunlap Creek. He was looking up into the tree line just at the curve in the road, clearly expecting someone to be there. It made sense that this would be a perfect spot to hide in. There were bushes and the wide branches of the pine tree created quite a bit of shade.
What he hadn’t been expecting was a redheaded girl in camo who was skinny enough to hide behind the lone tree on the other side of the road.
“Whoa,” he said, raising a single hand slowly as I leaned around the tree, the AR pointed in his direction. I had it aimed behind him, since I didn’t think I was going to need to shoot him. He didn’t need to know this, though. “I’ve got a wounded man here!”
“Good afternoon,” Sister Ann called out. She was hiding in the tree line where he’d first guessed someone to be. “What can we do for you?”
“My friend’s been shot!”
Upon hearing this, Sister Ann stepped into view. I followed her lead, though I did not lower my guard much. There’ve been enough movies where they used a supposedly “injured” comrade to ambush the good guys. I was thinking that a lot more now, thanks to Colton. “How hurt is he?”
“I don’t know, ma’am,” the guy answered. He sounded honest. “Took a round in his leg. I got the bleeding slowed down but I didn’t want to put a tourniquet on if I didn’t have to.”
That was smart of him. Tourniquets sometimes can do more harm than good. Especially when there was no need for one.
Sister Ann apparently thought the same thing. “Is he still breathing?”
The man half turned and looked at his companion. While he was distracted, I approached closer and moved more to my right. This would give me a better look at the wounded man while keeping Sister Ann out of my potential line of fire.
“Yes, ma’am. He’s still breathing.”
“Bring him across the bridge,” she instructed him. “Once across, you will get down on your knees and face away from us with your hands behind your head, fingers interlaced.”
“I know the drill, ma’am,” he said and began to pull the wagon across the bridge. That was interesting. What drill was he talking about? Had this guy been a marine like Sister Ann? Or was he still one? There was always the possibility that he was some sort of hardened criminal who’d broken out of prison when the Fall had occurred—though it seemed pretty farfetched even to me.
Once across the bridge, he complied with her directions after ensuring the wagon couldn’t roll down into the creek or back the way he’d come. Sister Ann motioned for me to keep an eye on him as she went to check on the wounded in the wagon.
This seemed to surprise the uninjured man. “Not worried about me carrying a weapon, ma’am?”
“I’d be more worried if you weren’t,” she replied and quickly lifted a bloodied jacket from the wounded man’s body. She grimaced. “Come on. Hand your weapon over to Madison and help me get your friend up the mountain. We have someone qualified to help fix him . . . maybe.”
“You have a doctor?” he asked, sounding hopeful for the first time.
“Better. A veterinarian.”
An hour later, we were gathered in what once had been the prep area of the cafeteria. It was the only place where Dr. Brittany felt comfortable enough to potentially operate without making a mess down in the bunker and also still had running water. Granted, she made her newfound assistant, Rohena, boil the water first. It was also the only place where we could keep prying eyes away.
The girl who I’d thought would end up being dead weight was actually turning into a decent medical assistant under Dr. Brittany’s careful tutelage. Plus, she was no longer picking on the younger girls or trying to make them do her chores. This was a different Rohena . . . which everyone else was eternally grateful to know existed.
“Upper thigh wound, looks like a bullet hole,” Dr. Brittany murmured as she finished stitching the back of the injured man’s leg. He’d lost a lot of blood, and there was nothing we could do about that, but Dr. Brittany didn’t sound too discouraged. Apparently she was satisfied with his blood pressure and mentioned this to Sister Ann before glancing over at the uninjured man, who was seated not too far away. “This is the exit wound, so he was shot from behind. You were running away?”
“How . . . ? Yes, Doctor. Dragged him across the river, sort of.”
Sister Ann looked at him, surprised. “You dragged him across the river?” When she said it that way, it did sound a little incredulous. I wasn’t sure if she thought he was full of it, or simply delusional. “In a wagon?”
“No, ma’am. Found the wagon on this side of the river at a house about a mile down the road. Brought it back and loaded him up. He wasn’t going to be able to walk much farther after the river.”
“And how’d you get across the river?”
“Rope bridge, ma’am.”
“A rope . . . bridge? With a wounded man?”
“It wasn’t easy, ma’am, but if you know what you’re doing it’s possible,” he explained. “Not going to lie, it was a lot easier to help him across while he was conscious. One-legged and everything. If he’d been passed out? I wouldn’t have been able to do it.”
“Then what?”
“Once I found the wagon, I got him loaded up and stopped the bleeding. Then I just started walking, ma’am,” the man said. I snorted. Sister Ann looked at me and gave me a slight nod.
“You just happened to find the one road that led up to the school?” I asked.
“Uh . . . Well, I didn’t know for sure—”
“You crossed King Dale’s barrier while being chased, then a river with a wounded man, and then you kept hiking up this road . . . on a whim?” I continued to press. Since Sister Ann wasn’t stopping me, I figured she had the same thoughts I was having. “You knew we were up here. You had to have. Why else did you want to cross the river so much?”
“I . . . didn’t know . . . pure luck . . . ?”
“Maddie?” Sister Ann gave me a serene look. “Shoot his kneecap. His holster is on his right hip, so make it the left one.”
Kneecaps. I could probably do kneecaps. It was definitely better than killing an actual human. Maiming meant he could potentially heal one day. Granted, I really didn’t even want to kneecap the guy, but before I even moved Baby the guy was holding up his hands in surrender.
“Wait! Wait! Fuck, lady. What sort of nun are you?” he stammered.
“The sort that does not approve of foul language.” Sister Ann’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I also do not tolerate liars.”
“Maddie really likes those knees,” Rohena muttered as she handed Dr. Brittany another one of the precious sterile bandage packs the veterinarian had brought up with her. There was a strange expression on Rohena’s face. “Something about a shepherd? I don’t know, I never pay attention to her until she’s ready to shoot something.”
The man was looking around the room. “What the f—uh, heck?”
“Quit stalling,” I said. “How did you know we were here?”
“You . . . Fine.” The man let out a heavy, defeated sigh. “The governor. She sent us here to scout things out.”
“The governor . . . of Virginia?” Sister Ann asked.
“The governor’s alive?” I asked, not able to keep the disbelief out of my voice. “How? Richmond was burning before anywhere else! I think it went up before the rest of the state. Wait . . . it was on the news! They said she died!”
“The lieutenant governor got the virus, that’s true, and was . . . pacified after turning. Richmond was complete and utter chaos. We barely managed to get out and down I-81 before it all went to shi—uh, crap. With the breakdown of social services, and some of the local feds . . . None of that matters now. Point is, it was safer to let people think the governor had died. There were . . . people . . . certain elements looking for her that we did not want tracking her down.”
Sister Ann made a soft noise, one I knew well. She didn’t believe the man, not fully. There was a certainty in his voice, though, that suggested there might be more truth in there than we wanted to admit. However, the nun had always been a little more trusting than me in the past. It was one of her good qualities, I guess. While she was at least willing to listen to the man, however, I was quietly thinking of ways to shoot his knee without interrupting Dr. Brittany’s stitching.
Or I could simply find a way to chase them off the hill. Dogs. Big dogs. The guy with the bullet in his leg might be slower than his buddy—assuming he woke up, I mean—so him I’d give a slight head start. Then again, if they both were suffering from a gunshot to the leg, it might be a little more fair. Would Xander or Willow chase them, though? I wasn’t sure, but I was willing to bet Dr. Brittany might be willing to put it to the test for me.
“What’s your name?” Sister Ann asked.
“Uh . . . Atkins, ma’am. Scott Atkins, Virginia State Police.”
“Does that mean I can’t shoot him now that we know him?” I looked around at the others. Rohena shrugged, but Dr. Brittany gave me an exasperated sigh and went back to work on the injured man.
“Ma’am, really . . .” Atkins eyeballed Baby before looking up at me. I just stared at him. Well, more like through him. It was a trick I’d learned from the twins. He swallowed and glanced away. “Is she really going to shoot me?”
“I don’t think she is planning on shooting you at this moment,” Sister Ann muttered as she stared off into the distance. Inwardly, I chuckled. There was no way I would really shoot him . . . I think. She was clearly considering what he’d said. Her normally calm expression was gone, replaced by a troubled one. My hand tightened on Baby’s grip. I didn’t really want to shoot anyone but if Sister Ann told me to, I would. The odds of her giving the order, though? Low. Probably. Sister Ann sighed before continuing. “How many?”
“Ma’am?”
“How many does the colonel have with her? Her children? Security?”
“Who, the governor? Ma’am, I can’t—”
“No.” Sister Ann cut him off with a simple hand gesture. “Trust goes two ways up here. We try not to keep any secrets because this isn’t the world we left behind. This is more than survival. This is about rebuilding. Thriving. You’ve seen what we have set up here. Our location up here is safer than what the colonel has at her home. We need to know just how many we’ve got coming up here.”
“Colonel? You mean Governor Lenity-Jones? Coming up . . . here? I don’t think the governor is going to relocate up—”
“She will.” Sister Ann was on a roll today. She almost never interrupted anyone. “She’s already making plans for it, I bet. Notice they’ve gotten reticent lately on long-term planning? Her, and whoever is with her. Not sharing as much as they used to? Her position is untenable. She knows this. That’s why you’re up here, whether you know it or not. The only question is who attacks the compound first—the shamblers, some unknown enemy, or Appalachia Rex.”
“Appalachia who?”
“The leader of the men who were shooting at you,” Sister Ann clarified. She pointed at his wounded companion. “Shot.”
“A real kingly jerkface,” I added helpfully.
“Huh?”
“Officer Atkins . . . when you were coming in, you were shot at as you moved through Clifton Forge, yes?” Sister Ann rubbed her face. Normally, the nun was always bright and alert. Right now, though, she looked tired. It was a little worrying. She noticed me looking and offered a gentle, reassuring smile before focusing back on the newcomer. “That’s where your partner was shot. Your words. Why did they shoot at you and not try to recruit you?”
“Scott, ma’am. Please.”
“Very well then, Scott. Humor me. Why didn’t King Dale try and recruit you?”
“Well, he did say I should join him,” Scott said, running his fingers through his hair. “Both of us, actually. But after I saw those pits I knew I couldn’t. So we ran.”
“Pits?” I asked. “What pits?” Sister Ann shushed me.
“You didn’t run back to Deer Creek?” she asked. Or declared. It was hard to say. The man looked at her.
“How’d you know about Deer Creek?”
“I’ve known about Deer Creek for years,” she clarified. “The colonel always spoke of her husband’s ancestral home. Back to the topic at hand. Maddie asked a good question. What are these pits you were talking about?”
“The pits . . . Ma’am, I’m sorry, but this is all too much. Why do you keep calling the governor ‘colonel’?”
His buddy groaned and shifted on the steel countertop, briefly interrupting out quasi-interrogation. I glanced over. Dr. Brittany was working on the other side of his leg now, muttering under her breath the entire time. It was clear she wasn’t happy with the wound. We watched in silence as she continued to stitch it closed. Done, she stepped back and sighed.
“I think he’ll be okay, but I need to watch for infection,” Dr. Brittany said as she leaned away from the table. She removed her gloves and tossed them in the trash can. Rohena began to wrap a bandage around the leg. “Pressure is down but survivable. I think. I’ve operated on a dog with a gunshot wound before, so it was kinda similar. Lucky it was a through-and-through. We don’t have pain meds, and digging out a fragmented bullet is not something I’m sure I can do.”
“He’ll be okay?” Scott asked. Dr. Brittany nodded.
“I think so.”
“Pits,” Sister Ann said quietly once Dr. Brittany backed away. She would keep a close eye on her patient, but knew when Sister Ann wanted space. “Talk to me about these pits.”
“Not really pits, but that was my first impression. They’re holding pens filled with zombies,” Scott replied in a quiet voice. “Dozens, maybe even a hundred in the one I saw. Keep ’em penned up like cattle. They got one down by this outdoor amphitheater place, and another somewhere else. Some place called the armory? When I saw the zombies trapped inside the fenced area, I figured out what they were doing. I told David here what was going on and we split. They chased us all the way until we hit this barricade down on the interstate, where the mill exit was. Governor Lenity-Jones had told us to scout around up here originally and see if anybody survived. We weren’t expecting Clifton Forge to be a fortress. Apparently your school is listed over in Richmond as Location Redoubt?”
Sister Ann snorted at that. “Sixty years ago, maybe. We’ve become too reliant on Covington now for that.”
“You ran that far?” I asked. “From Clifton Forge to Covington?” Scott shook his head.
“No. We had a vehicle. Had to leave it at that funky barricade on I-64,” he answered. “That was when David got shot, when we were bailing out of the car. It was weird, though. Once we were across the barricade, they stopped chasing. Didn’t even shoot at us. It was like they didn’t care anymore.”
“That narrow pass is the only easy way into Covington from the east,” Sister Ann pointed out. “They built the barrier to keep us isolated. Or keep us from coming at them that way, I’m not certain. It most definitely is a boundary, though. To them, a very real one. You escaped from the self-proclaimed Kingdom of Appalachia. Welcome back to Virginia, Officer.”
Officer Atkins blinked. “What the hell has been happening up here?”
It took a while, but Sister Ann brought him up to speed. Afterward, he needed a minute or two to regain his composure. It was a lot to absorb. They hadn’t had access to a shortwave radio like we did. However, down at this Deer Creek place they’d apparently not dealt with shamblers or King Dale much.
Lucky bastards.
Of course, the reason the governor had sent him to find out if our mountain was a tenable solution made our day worse.
“One of the governor’s kids got sick,” he began in a quiet voice. His face was drawn, haggard. “The well pump doesn’t work all that well anymore and we can’t fix it. Draws less than a gallon a minute. Plus, it’s contaminated or something. There’s a weird smell to the water. We were coming up with ideas when one of the governor’s daughters started drinking from the river. She thought she was being helpful, but . . . she’s nine, you know? Doesn’t really understand why drinking water straight from the river without boiling it or anything can be bad. Only . . . nobody noticed at first. Not until the bloody diarrhea began.”
“Giardiasis, amoebiasis, TD . . . could be a lot of things, none of them good,” Dr. Brittany muttered. “All easily treatable, pre-Fall. I don’t have a lab to do all the necessary bloodwork to determine precisely what we’re dealing with, but amoxicillin should take care of it. She’s not allergic to penicillin, is she?”
“No, not at all. We just didn’t have any.”
“And the mystery as to why the colonel wanted to move now makes sense,” Sister Ann said. She looked at Dr. Brittany. “Maybe now you understand why you’re the most popular girl on campus.”
Once the wounded state police officer—his name was Officer David Pew, according to a seemingly smitten Rohena—was put in the empty apartment next to Temple upstairs, we called a meeting for all the survivors to let them know the good news—and share some potential bad. Sister Ann had a policy of complete honesty with the refugees who’d found their way to St. Dominic’s. For better or worse, she was forcing them to trust her . . . and each other.
It turned out that Officer Atkins had never even been to this part of Virginia before. Not even driven through it on his way out of state. His assignments had always kept him in either the Richmond or Tidewater areas. A bummer, that. He missed out on the dying railroad towns, the meth problem, and luxury vacation spots like Lake Moomaw. Some people just had all the luck.
“We thought there’d be more survivors,” Officer Atkins said as he looked at the gathered groups in the cafeteria. Most people were standing around in clusters based on what cottage they were staying in. Which, amusingly, was the same way we’d done it before the Fall. Tribal instinct was an odd thing. “Less than a hundred. The Covington–Clifton Forge area had about seven thousand people, maybe eight. Counting the surrounding area, ten thousand. Is this . . . all we have left to rebuild society?”
“We have our faith,” Sister Ann stated firmly. “We have our faith in God, and in our neighbors. We’ve already survived, Officer. Everybody in here is a survivor. Now? It’s time to rebuild, to thrive. Hiding is no longer an option. Not anymore. The governor is a legally elected official, and in the Commonwealth of Virginia that counts for a lot. We can elect a county commission and go from there.”
“Even with guys like that nutjob over in Clifton Forge running around?”
“Especially with people like King Dale running around,” Sister Ann confirmed, smiling. Some of the newer arrivals were watching the state police officer warily. It made me wonder just how many had warrants, pre-Fall. “You’ve met the survivors, Officer. Now come meet the student council. The girls who are really in charge of St. Dominic’s.”
We went downstairs into the bunker. Though the survivors were sleeping in the cottages now, Sister Ann had decided to keep the girls of St. Dominic’s in the bunker. None of them complained. Lucia had started to make some noise about moving back into her old room and cottage. The problem there was that the dorm room was now being used by a handful of young boys, none older than seven, and their one surviving grandmother. Lucia would have to kick them all out. As much as she liked to portray herself as a hard-core girl from the barrio, she really was a decent human being. Neither Sister Ann nor I thought she’d follow through with the threat. Besides, she seemed to really enjoy having Kayla as a roommate in the bunker, and Kayla was not moving out anytime soon.
It amused me a bit just how quickly we could adapt and go back to worrying about minor things like moving around to the other cottages once the threat of the shamblers was gone. Humans are simply resilient beings.
And it’s better than dwelling on other things, like the end of the world, for instance.
“Attention, please!” Sister Ann called out to everyone gathered in the dining hall. The mutters and whispers abruptly ceased. I really wanted to know where she learned how to do this. “For those of you who don’t know, two members of the Virginia State Police found their way to our campus earlier today. There is good news, and there is bad news.
“First, the bad. Officer Atkins’s partner, Officer Pew, was wounded by gunfire on their way here. I know we’ve asked before, but if anyone here has any sort of nursing experience, Dr. Jefferson would greatly appreciate any help. If you have this training, please see Dr. Jefferson after this meeting but before dinner. Her time is going to be occupied for the next few days treating her patient, so we need to know sooner rather than later if you can help.
“Now, the good news. The governor of Virginia is alive and well, and not too far away.” This caused more commotion than the news of Officer Pew being shot. Sister Ann waited for them to quiet down before continuing. “I know the governor personally from my time in the Marine Corps before taking my vows, and I can attest that she is an honorable and just person. However, between her and us is the self-proclaimed King of Appalachia. If he learns how close to his domain she is, I believe the man would not hesitate to go after her. Though she has not let anyone know of her plans just yet, I believe I understand her intent, and we can guess her needs. However, in the meantime, we must discuss the reestablishment of a governing body for Alleghany County. A simple three-person commission will suffice for now. Once we have the state government back on track, as well as an honest-to-goodness functioning federal one, we’ll start to explore our options from there. We’ll be accepting candidates next Monday, and elections will be the following Friday.
“From there, we’ll start to explore options of where the commission should be based. There are locations on our side of the river but within Covington city limits that would suffice. No, the commission cannot be housed here. This school is a refuge, and will remain so. I know it’s not a lot of time, but this is something we should handle sooner rather than later.
“Does anyone have any questions about this? If not, then I thank you for your time.”
Sister Ann turned and looked our way. The student council had formed a little cluster near the back of the dining hall. It was early, but from the direction she was walking we could tell she wanted to have an emergency meeting down in the bunker. Well, at least, I could tell. The others stood around stupidly as I headed for the stairwell. Pausing at the doorway, I turned back and motioned for them to follow.
It was much quieter down in the bunker. The younger girls were upstairs, which gave us the space needed for the meeting. Once Sister Ann brought things to order, she wasted absolutely no time.
Sister Ann waited until everyone was seated around the conference table. Once we were settled in, she began. “There has been a general recall for any and all active duty, active reserves, and inactive reserve personnel. I have yet to determine if it is legitimate or not.”
The younger girls jerked in surprise. I’d heard the news when Sister Ann had, and Emily must have spoken about her fears and suspicions about her satellite clock theory with a few of the other girls on the student council because none of them seemed too surprised. Hurt and afraid, though? Definitely.
“When . . . are you leaving?” Kayla asked in a quiet voice, as though concerned anything louder might frighten Sister Ann away sooner.
“Still waiting to see if they are legitimate orders,” Sister Ann said in a calm voice. “God will determine my path, as always. Have faith, girls. The nearest guard installation is at Fort Pickett, which is not very accessible to us at the moment. I’m willing to bet that it’s a complete mess down there. It wasn’t great even before the Fall. It’s a shame we can’t broadcast yet and find out. Emily?”
“Ma’am?”
“You’ve worked with some of the new arrivals on the radio a bit. How far out are we from rigging up something that would allow us to broadcast?”
“It’s not the radio that’s the issue. One of the guys said that it’s about wattage, and we simply don’t generate enough up here to broadcast anything. Even if I could pilfer every single solar panel in Covington—and there aren’t many—it wouldn’t be enough power to broadcast outside the area,” Emily replied immediately.
“So that’s settled, then,” Sister Ann said as she leaned back in her chair and folded her hands upon her lap. “There’s no way just yet to tell anyone what we’re about to do. A shame, really. I would have really liked to hear Devil Dog Radio’s response.”
“What are we going to do?” Kayla asked, mystified. “Go to Fort Pickett?”
“Oh, no. Nothing that drastic. We’re just going to go and rescue the governor of Virginia.”
“What?” everyone in the room almost shouted as one. I kept my mouth shut. I’d suspected this was coming the moment the two state police showed up and told Sister Ann about the governor, and her daughter being ill. It didn’t take a degree in rocket science to figure it out. Sister Ann’s protective nature was second to none. The only surprising part of it all was that none of the other girls had seen it coming.
“If we don’t pull the governor out of Deer Creek, King Dale is going to eventually figure out someone is there. Especially if he’s looking to expand his power base.” She paused, looking around the table. She lingered on me for a second before continuing. “Plus, with her daughter sick, she might not be thinking clearly. So we come up with a plan. Well, you come up with one. Me? After I meet with the governor, I need to determine if the order that came over the radio is legitimate or not. We can go from there.”
“Us?” Rohena squeaked. “Plan?”
“I don’t know . . .” Emily sounded nervous.
“Who do you mean? We plan? How?” Kayla asked, looking around the room. Her dark face was pale. She was clearly frightened. All of them were. Even the Great Danes standing next to Kayla looked worried, though I’d like to think it was because of the general mood in the room. Then every face in the room turned and looked not at Sister Ann, but me.
I blinked stupidly. “What?” I looked at them all before jerking a thumb at Sister Ann. “She’s in charge.”
“No, Maddie.” Sister Ann shook her head slowly. “This school is under your care, with the assistance of the council, since they elected you president.”
“The fuck?” I blurted out. When had that happened? No. No way. I didn’t want to be in charge. My entire time at the school I’d avoided leadership responsibilities. I’d turned down being the proctor of my dorm, hadn’t accepted the offer to be cocaptain of the field hockey team, and had initially said no to Sister Ann when approached to be on the student council in the early days after the Fall. There was absolutely zero chance of me leading them now.
“Language.”
“Sor—no, no wait. No, I’m not sorry,” I growled. I looked around at everyone in the room. The girls all flinched. Only Sister Ann remained unperturbed. “There’s no way. You can’t do this. There are rules and crap!”
“We had the election two days ago,” Lucia offered in a tiny voice. “It was unanimous.”
“Et tu, Brute?” I slapped my palm hard on the flat surface of the table. A resounding crack! echoed throughout the room. She looked away. “That’s bull. No way. I didn’t get to vote. I can’t do it. No, I won’t. There’s better people than me—”
“Name one,” Sister Ann challenged. I opened my mouth to name one of the girls in the room. My mind blanked as I tried to form an argument explaining why they were wrong.
“But—”
“But what, Madison?” Sister Ann asked in a quiet voice. “You’ve been doing the job in all but name for months now. I’m helping where I can, but I foresee problems down the road, problems that my being in charge of things will only complicate. For us up here on the mountain, you are the duly elected leader. There’s a reason I’m having everyone else—those who are already thinking of leaving and setting up a new community down in Covington—nominate and elect their own leaders. But here? You are the best and easiest choice. Tell me: On which girl would you dump all the responsibility you’ve already shouldered?”
I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t do that to any of them. Even though they were all standing around the table, and their faces were clear as day, I couldn’t say any one of the names. Kayla, Lucia, Rohena, Emily . . . none of them could do what I did. Wanted to, or even had the capabilities. But no, the responsibility of others had been sneakily placed upon my shoulders by a nun who I was now convinced had been planning for this moment since Sister Mary’s face had been eaten off by Chelsea the year before. She was conniving in ways no mortal being should ever be. My mouth closed and I sighed heavily.
Deep down I knew . . . Sister Ann was never wrong. I was the right choice and, if I had to be perfectly honest with myself, I was the only choice.
Damn it.
“Okay . . . but I’ll need help.”
Sister Ann’s smile was serene. “That’s what the council’s here for. It’s designed to help the elected president.”
Tricksy hobbit. She’d been planning this for much longer than I’d been led to believe.