DAY 24: May 2nd, Sunday

Three weeks since Ground Zero

"I feel naked," I said to Logan. I fiddled with my black raincoat and baseball cap, trying to keep the rain out of my face. Days without rain, and it chose this day to pour like cats and dogs. Dark thick clouds hung overhead, and it seemed the downpour wouldn't stop until the next day.

"Is that a good thing?" Logan asked, walking ahead of me. A blue Honda drove by a large puddle, almost splashing the entire sidewalk we were on.

"You know, this," I said, gesturing at my body. I had no armor on; all my weapons were missing except for the pistol and a couple of extra ammunitions snug in my shoulder holster. "I've been running around with all that gear, so it felt odd not wearing one."

"Well, we are going to a coffee shop. Kind of hard to blend in if we're packing."

I looked down at my clothes. I traded my combat uniform for a black poncho raincoat, a baseball cap, slim blue chinos, a gray pullover hoodie jacket, and Timberland waterproof dark boots.

"10:15 was it?" I asked.

"Yeah, that's what Tessa said." Logan checked his watch. "We're ten minutes early. We got time."

"This better be good. I hate walking around without an ID. We should have stolen one."

"And bring attention to ourselves? Yeah, right. Just act cool," Logan said, patting me on the shoulder.

"Just act cool," I repeated.

It had been a week since we were inside the walls, the place where we stayed was an abandoned construction site, and aside from the occasional homeless person, no one had bothered to look. Though, the next day, we realized we were trapped in Pine Hills. Payne's red ID was only carried by active-duty soldiers, taking them from one neighborhood to another through heavily guarded checkpoints and gates. The civilians had either a yellow or green ID card (yellow for non-essentials and green for essentials). We had no way of getting ourselves downtown to look for Major Clemons unless we pretended to be soldiers again, which was dangerous given that we were now wanted criminals. We could steal one, and believe me, we've tried. No success.

We were forced to wait, sleeping in a freezing building with no heater, having to shower and clean ourselves in public bathrooms in the few open businesses around downtown (and made it so that they're not too suspicious of us). We also had to be careful when we light a fire to cook our meals, though we managed to hide the humvees and the bus by putting a massive tarp over them.

We did have another person inside that could go through the gates without suspicion: Tessa.

We turned left at a corner. Even with the pouring rain, there were a lot of people walking around the streets. Some went into the grocery store. Others continued to stroll and window shop even though half of the items were already gone. People pretended that the outbreak hadn't happened inside the walls, continuing with their jobs (those that were left open), mowing their lawn, going to school (albeit only half-days), and having BBQs. Still, the sight of a squad of patrolling soldiers, or a tank rolling through, reminded them of reality. You also couldn't miss the walls surrounding every neighborhood or the checkpoints. We've learned to avoid the latter.

People wore masks and gloves as if the disease could be transmitted through the air. I didn't think they knew that the bites were the culprit, but perhaps only wearing them to make themselves feel better. Still, Logan and I had to wear one to blend in.

A humvee passed by, and Logan and I kept our heads down. I strode past a poorly-sketched drawing of me on a bus stop, and I still wondered why they hadn't found who I am yet.

"It must be Peter," Logan said. "He hasn't told anyone who you are yet."

"But why?"

Logan shrugged. "I have no idea. Does he know I am here?"

"He speculated it."

"He's up to something."

"Probably."

Was Peter dead? Did I accidentally killed him? I surmised that the rest of his team must be alive since the day after we arrived, Albany was on high alert, and an APB was sent out for our arrest. They already knew we were inside since they quickly realized that the soldiers who had entered Gate Eighty-Five the previous night were imposters. The West Point cadets had a funeral in Washington Park for the soldier Henry killed.

Timber Peak Coffee Shop sat at the corner on Madison Avenue, sandwiched between a pizzeria and a closed-down Western Union bank. It was also a quarter of a mile away from the nearest gate, which led to downtown. I saw Tessa already sitting on a table by the window.

Acoustic music strummed softly from the speakers as we came inside, the warm earthy aroma wafting across the room, making my stomach grumbled. It had been a long time since I had coffee, and I watched in envy at the woman grabbing a brimming-foamed cup from the counter. This coffee shop was one of the few businesses allowed to be open and occasionally received bags of coffee beans from the military's personal storage and the shop's own supplies. It gave the entire neighborhood an aura of normalcy and kept everyone in line that they could still buy coffee (Aside from the required ration tickets, they're the handful of businesses who still accepted cash).

"Are you followed?" Logan asked Tessa as we sat across from her.

Tessa shook her head. "I timed my exit. They had a change of guard around nine every morning, so that's when I slipped out. It's been a week, and they're still watching my front door."

"Wouldn't surprise me," I muttered.

"They keep asking if I've seen you and Gabe. I don't know how many times I said no."

"Ah. As long as you don't draw too much attention, you'll be fine."

"Kind of hard not to, Bren. You know who shows up my door."

I winced. "Captain Ramos."

Tessa frowned.

"Have you seen a tall guy with him by any chance?"

"No. He usually comes alone."

"Oh."

"How's my grandfather? Gabe?"

"They're doing fine. Gabe's healing well. I think he's gonna have some scars, or at least that's what Margot told me."

Tessa scoffed. "Serves him right, at least. I told them not to involve you guys. I'm sorry about that."

"He's apologizing for it every day, or might have been every hour, I don't know, can't tell, and I'm kind of getting sick of it," I said, chuckling.

"Tessa!" A barista barked out from the counter. Tessa slid out of her seat and walked over there.

"She should get out," Logan whispered to me. "I've heard about this Emmett Ramos guy. He was in the riots when they took away their guns and shot someone."

"We have to convince her, though."

"Yeah. Using girls as a harem...diabolical," Logan spat.

We've heard the ghost stories coming from the harem apartments where most of the senior officers stayed. In Tessa's case, about four girls lived where she was, so she had to be extra careful about who she met and talked to, especially when it came to us. A plant had probably been spying on her from the inside, and it didn't help that Captain Ramos, Peter's superior, was the one who took care of her.

My eyes widened when I saw three cups on Tessa's tray; one for her, and the other two were for Logan and me. She laid the cups down for each one of us.

"You don't have to," I said.

"Oh, believe me, it's no bother," Tessa said.

"This must cost a ton of ration tickets."

"I paid with cash," she said.

I didn't ask her where she got it, and I had a feeling she didn't want to talk about it. I said a curt thank you and took a sip. I hadn't realized that it was black coffee, and I carefully took out the lid and put a couple of sugars and milk by the stand. Logan preferred his black. I veered back onto my chair and enjoyed a couple of sips, the warmth hung on my chest, and I let out a blissful smile.

"So, what's this meeting about?" Logan asked first.

"Hold on." Tessa looked around the room before she ruffled through her purse and pulled out three green IDs. She slid it across the table. "This wasn't easy to procure."

I picked it up, my mouth hanging open. "Where the fuck did you get this?"

I looked at the IDs with three fake names. The IDs did not have pictures, just a designated number, the assigned neighborhood, and the classification of their basic needs, which was for acquiring ration tickets and daily amenities. These particular IDs had a fourth extra line at the bottom that said: ESSENTIAL. It was the same label on Tessa's ID, which allowed her to pass through Pine Hills and The Med Complex.

Tessa bit her lip. "Ramos went outside the walls a few nights ago. Overnight duty. He left his ID since he did not need it outside. I took it, found another person in the building who can replicate it. That's it."

"He got greens?"

"It's for when he's off-duty."

Logan studied the green rectangular laminated paper, turning it around here and there. "Just three?" He asked.

I smacked Logan's arm and glared at him. "What he means is thank you. This helps a lot."

"I used two weeks' worth of ration tickets to get those. The guy who made these isn't exactly cheap," said Tessa, taking a sip of her coffee.

"We can use this to get downtown?"

"The captain has weekly meetings down there, and not just at The Med. Meetings with senior officials, not just military."

I put the three IDs in my pocket. "Thanks again."

Tessa nodded. "You're welcome. I got to ask Ramos about your Clemons guy."

I froze. "That's a bit risky."

"He was kind of high."

"Oh."

"Anyway, it seems he got promoted to a lieutenant colonel after his superior had a mental breakdown and jumped into the river, or so I heard."

"And you heard anything about where he is downtown?" I asked, hopeful.

Tessa smiled. "Three places: State Capitol, Times Union, and the Appellate. He frequents there. Unfortunately, I couldn't get myself down there to check for myself, even if I try to convince Ramos to bring me."

"Thanks, Tessa. These will do."

That narrowed things down. Though, those landmarks didn't tell me where he ate and slept. I reckoned all the three places would be heavily guarded compared to his own house.

Tessa pushed her bangs to the side, and I noticed a small purple bruise just under her right eye. She caught me looking.

"You don't have to stay with him. We got what we needed," I said, patting the pocket where the IDs were.

"I'm fine," she said, forcing a smile.

"If he's hurting you..."

"He got a little rough. That's all."

I glared. "That's it. You got to come back. Steve and Gabe are worried about you."

"I'm fine, Bren. Thanks. None of you are behind the lines—only me. I got you those IDs, didn't I? I can be of big help where I am and get you guys some ration tickets if you run out of food. When you find this Clemons guy, then maybe I can leave him."

I pressed my lips. I highly doubted we'd need to resort to ration tickets when the food we had inside the bus could last us a month.

"And besides, soldiers are watching my apartment. If my family is with me, they'll get arrested. I don't trust the other girls there, either."

"We can't let you stay there. You're safer with us," Logan said.

"I owe you one. I got you in trouble by not telling you what we've planned. We didn't want to take any of your supplies, but my idiot brother shot himself on foot sometimes. I can help from where I am. You guys are fugitives while I am not," she said, determined.

"Are you sure?"

Tessa paused for a second, but then she nodded. "This is my choice. I'm staying."

"At least promise me, when I find Clemons, and I set things in order, you'll stay away from that man."

Tessa let out a small smile. "I promise."

——

We went back to the construction site to tell the others about the IDs. Everyone already thought that the plan was dangerous since people passing through the gates were body checked, including their bags, at all times. That meant if we got into some trouble, we would be weaponless.

I found another way.

The gate, or the Pine Hills South 3 Gate, was built on the intersection between South Lake and Madison. The two buildings that flanked it had their doors and windows barricaded, preventing anyone from just going around the walls or the gates. And besides, I had heard they booby-trapped the interior, and I didn't want to risk being proven wrong. At this point, it wouldn't surprise me that they did.

The gate had over two dozen people in line under the rain, waiting for their turn to be patted down, get their bags checked, and then going through the one-person turnstile built at the flank. There were two: one for entering and exiting the neighborhood, each on opposite sides of the sidewalk. The more massive gate, the one in the middle, was reserved for passing vehicles, and for now, it was barred shut. There were not many cars driving around since the city got walled-in, and the only allowed operational vehicles were the delivery vans, the humvees, and the army transport trucks.

The middle gate had grating panels to see through the other side, where another long line had formed for entering Pine Hills. Luke, Logan, and I stood in line for close to fifteen minutes.

Though I felt naked without my armor and weapons before, it felt like my skin got ripped off without the gun and holster strapped around my shoulder or the knife tucked behind my belt. Luke and I were the only ones carrying a small bag, some snacks, a book, and a few rolled-up clothes, nothing that would get a soldier's attention. I didn't know how long we would be downtown, and it might take a few days to find Clemons.

"All jobs can be easy. It depends on the execution," my father used to say. I hoped I would find him today.

"What do we do once we find him?" Luke asked.

"Let's worry about not getting killed first," I said.

Luke grinned, stepping close to me. "You kind of make it easy being a moving target, Bren."

"Ha. Ha. Laugh all you want."

"Don't be nervous."

"I'm not nervous."

"I can see your body trembling."

"It's cold out. What do you expect?"

"Want me to warm you up?"

I snorted, but before I could say a retort, Logan turned around and said, "Quit both your dicks. You two can fuck later."

Luke's grin dropped. "Who murdered you today?"

"Hopefully, no one, Luke."

"Come on, man. No need to talk to me that way."

"I'm cold. I have the right to be irritated."

"Guys, guys, tone it down," I said, breaking them apart. "We're almost next."

Luke and Logan glared at each other for a moment, though it was the latter who broke it off. Logan rolled his eyes and turned around to face the soldier ahead of us.

"How come the lines are long today?" Logan asked casually as the soldier patted him down. He sounded like he had been through these many times, and I was a little impressed.

"Not my fault, bud. Almost lunch hour, so some folks are going to downtown and Central for work. I reckon you're going there?"

Logan shook his head, and I held my breath. "Visiting my uncle," he said. "He's a pain in the ass, but you know, family."

"I hear you. I hear you," the soldier said, and I let out a shaky breath. He took Logan's ID and checked it. "Mr. Raymond Flusser?"

"Floooser," Logan corrected with a questionable German accent. I didn't think it was German.

The soldier gave Logan a look that said he pitied him for having a name like that. I realized it was what Logan intended.

The soldier handed him his ID. "You can go through."

Logan glanced back at me before he went through the turnstile.

I walked up to the soldier and handed him my ID. I was a little shaky that I dropped the card, said I was exceedingly sorry, but he seemed annoyed that he had to bend down to pick it up. He told me to put my bag on the table where another soldier checked it. The second soldier kept asking me what the clothes were for, and I told him they were extra clothes for my brother since we didn't bring much when we were evacuated. He seemed satisfied with my answer.

The first soldier—the one Logan had talked to—was keen on patting me all over. Maybe he'd find some bread or coin hidden in one of my pockets or something with how thorough he was, even cupping my balls as if I was hiding drugs, earning a yelp that reddened my cheeks. I realized he was doing it on purpose, trying to intimidate me for dropping my ID, which I thought was fucking petty that I wanted to clobber him over the head. In the end, I channeled Logan and tried to copy his laid-back manner, but I might have ended up looking much worse.

Luckily, the rain and the cold masked my trembling.

"Go on," the soldier finally said.

I walked up to the turnstile, pushing on them until I was through the other side. Only one person at a time could go through, so I had to wait for Luke. A minute later, he walked out.

"Do they seem lazy to you?" Luke asked, making sure no one of the soldiers guarding up the ramparts (above the gate) heard him.

I smiled. "I guess doing that for the rest of the day must be exhausting."

Luke suddenly looked all over. "Hey, where's Logan?"

"Guys! Over here!" Logan's head peeked out from a corner and disappeared again.

Luke and I shared a wary look as we strode toward Logan. We turned the corner, surprised that a few people had gathered in front of an electronics store with multiple TV screens playing the same broadcast by the window. Logan stood at the side.

"Come, come. Have a look," Logan said, pointing at the TVs.

A blond woman in a clean yellow form-fitting pantsuit talked to the camera in a newsroom, but I couldn't hear what she was saying. However, the chyron at the bottom of the screen read: CHAOS ALL OVER THE U.S. & THE WORLD AFTER MYSTERIOUS FLU. Below the main chyron read: COVID-19, ONE YEAR LATER. MUTATION OR NEW DISEASE?

The video then shuffled through a series of riots across major American cities, though I began to notice that most of them were from the east coast. Boston was in flames in the dark of night, with plenty of people out on the streets throwing Molotov at the advancing national guard. Miami had bodies strewn on the beaches that the white sand had turned red. Countless civilians were ushered into the French Quarters of New Orleans's designated Quarantine Zones as the army stood menacingly from the sidelines. A few graffiti said ALL LIES, END LOCKDOWN, or TRUTH & FREEDOM—ending with images of the army being shipped back from Iraq and Afghanistan.