Storm Front Read online

  “You’ll believe me,” Alex shouted into Krol’s face. “Or you’ll die with me.”

  He spat. A few thin flecks of spittle soaring through the air and hitting Krol between the eyes.

  Alex already heard the footsteps behind him and Nelson shouting. He raised his arms above his head, surrendering. Krol stood still, unmoving, his tiny eyes as wide as they would go. He clutched the mask to his face.

  “Take him away. Now!”

  Alex allowed himself to be led back to the cell in the stables, the sound of shouting and running all around him. Guns were levelled, feet stomped. A shot was fired into the sky.

  All hell had broken loose.

  6

  For five hours, Alex and his friends were locked in the stables.

  He explained what had happened, how he’d spat in Krol’s face. Joan had been aghast, not because of the deed itself, but because Alex simply hadn’t waited and bargained as before. Timmy loved it. Showing them who’s boss, he’d said. Cam had come down firmly on Joan’s side. Together, they seemed willing to sit out the quarantine.

  But Alex didn’t want to wait. This was his farm. His home. Bringing his friends here had been his plan. He had to make it work. But every second they were locked up, that dream seemed to shrink slightly, disappearing into nothingness. But they couldn’t lose hope.

  Krol was a threat.

  So they waited in the dark. Timmy knocked on the door. They ignored him. Even as darkness fell and they could hardly see one another, no one came to the stables. They were all alone.

  To pass the time, they talked.

  Alex was still waiting to hear how his friends had escaped through the Park. The story was short, as Timmy told it, just a long, hard walk over mountainous terrain. They’d met no one, struggling only to keep their exhausted bodies moving. When they emerged on the other side, arriving at the freeway, a stolen car had taken them most of the way to the farm. Alex could fill in the blanks from there.

  What they had lost were the weapons. The small arsenal Timmy had brought from his house was now sitting either hidden in a shed on the farm or back in the car in the Washington and Jefferson Memorial Park. Alex’s own Savage rifle, his handgun, his knife, and everything else he had brought with him had also been confiscated. They’d even taken his dog. Alex was even starting to question that.

  There was no barking to be heard. That meant Finn was quiet. That meant he was content. That meant they were treating him well. Feeding him, watching over him. He had to be fine; the alternative was too awful to think about. Alex tried to focus on his immediate concerns, on the parts of the world he could reach out and touch and change.

  For the first time since they’d started, Alex and his friends were entirely unarmed.

  As they were talking, Alex stopped mid-sentence.

  “Wait… I hear something.”

  The others fell silent. They heard the familiar sound of the bolt sliding open.

  Without ceremony, Krol stepped into the room. Nelson was with him again, this time carrying a flaming torch in one hand. An oil-soaked rag wrapped around a two-foot stick, set alight. It covered the interior of the stables in a warm glow and a thin veneer of dusty, choking smoke.

  Without thinking, Alex jumped to his feet, prepared to fight.

  “Sit down.” Krol’s flat voice carried through the room as he walked across.

  Alex stayed on his feet. “What do you want?”

  Krol didn’t reply until he had walked the length of the room. His slow, methodical pace was set by the swinging gas tank in his hand. It acted like a metronome, moving him forwards with a singular steady rhythm.

  When he reached a spot dead in the center of the room, a few feet from Alex and his friends, Krol stopped. Nelson stood to one side, lighting the space between them. The only sound was the air pumping through the man’s mask.

  “I will talk and you will listen.”

  Alex relaxed but remained standing, watching the firelight dancing over Krol. They had come unarmed. The tall man folded up his knees and sat on the concrete floor.

  “Sit down.” It was an instruction from Krol and it expected to be obeyed.

  Not wanting to sit on the floor, Alex stepped back, found space on an empty crate next to Cam and leaned against it.

  “Fine.” Krol continued, watching them all. “After this afternoon’s… naïveté, I have come to you with an offer.”

  From his position, Alex could see his friends adjust themselves in their seats.

  “You will live on this farm. It is what you want. But you must work, you must contribute. We all work hard for the betterment of the common cause. We cannot all be headstrong fools.”

  “You want us to work for you?” Alex was unimpressed. “What kind of offer is this?”

  “Nobody works for anyone here. We work together.”

  “But this isn’t your property,” Timmy argued. “You stole it.”

  “Recently,” Krol spoke through the mask, “ownership has become a simple subject. We are here. We will remain. This is all there is. The past means nothing.”

  Alex could feel his hands clenching. He felt his fingernails digging into his palm.

  “Then why come here at all?” Alex tamed his anger, kept his voice as calm as possible.

  Joan watched Alex with a worried look on her face. He met her gaze. She turned away. Keep your temper, she was telling him.

  “I do believe you lived here once.” Krol rested one arm in his lap and the other on top of the gas tank. “It explains why you have returned here now. But, as you will see, people will now have to think about the world very differently. History will change. There will be a time before and a time after. Now, we are very much in the time after. What happened before is simply decoration for our incredibly vulnerable present.”

  The sound of Krol breathing and the crackle of the flaming torch filled in the spaces between the sentences.

  “Recently,” Krol continued, “we have encountered… difficulties with both the sick and the dishonest. Two very different viruses. We cannot risk contamination from either.”

  “Then you accept that this is my farm? You accept that we have a right to be here?”

  Krol shook his head.

  “Those are not concerns of mine. Rights and beliefs are antiques. Worthless ruins of history.”

  “Then, what?” Alex looked across to his friends, who stared at the man opposite. “You’ve come here to kill us?”

  The muffled laughter which filtered through the mask had an unhuman quality.

  “We do not kill people. There are too few people left. It would not be helpful.”

  The sound of uneasy shuffling. No one believed Krol, their feet seemed to say. His sincerity made them uncomfortable. Uneasy.

  “Then what?” Alex asked, keen to break the silence.

  “We will talk. You will listen. You will accept the offer.”

  Alex had to open his hand, flexing his fingers. Even with just the torch light, he could see the marks in his palm. Close to bleeding.

  “We don’t have much choice, though. You’ve got us locked up here.”

  “And so bargains are made. We are willing to open the door and welcome you into our home-”

  “My home.”

  Krol ignored Alex.

  “But there is one condition. We cannot tolerate ill health. We cannot tolerate lies. We cannot tolerate those who do not act for the group. The virus has already taken too much.”

  “We’ve told you, we’re not sick.”

  “Yes, I do remember. And, thanks to your stunt, I will soon find out how truthful that is. But you are not alone.”

  Alex didn’t speak.

  “We do not have much expertise dealing with the illness, nor equipment to help us. These masks are a defense, but only one of the measures we take.”

  “We can help you,” Joan whispered, her head turned away from Alex. “We have experience–”

  “Yes. You do. For instance, we have notice
d your… additional medical condition. We have noticed that you and this man both share the same mark. This, we believe, shows you to be survivors. We can allow you to leave, pending a brief decontamination procedure, and an assurance that you will help us understand this disease and work hard to protect our group.”

  Joan let out a sigh. Timmy laid a hand across her shoulder.

  “But what about us?” Alex pointed at himself and Cam. “We can leave too?”

  “Those who can prove their health will be released.”

  “We’re a package deal, Krol. All or nothing.”

  It was hard to read the man’s expressions. The mask hid most of Krol’s face, while his forehead and bald head hardly moved. He pointed a finger at Alex.

  “You—” The mask twitched. “—are a reckless fool. But we do not believe you are sick. An honest fool, I suppose.”

  Timmy laughed. Alex gritted his teeth.

  “Earlier today, you told me you had access to a computer. This could be a useful tool. An honest fool with a useful tool.”

  Alex allowed himself a short smile.

  “You won’t be able to access it without me.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  “I can show you.”

  “I’m sure you can. This is information you will be able to exchange for a release from the quarantine. But there is a condition.”

  “What?”

  “You cede possession of the device to us.”

  “You can borrow it. You can’t take everything, Krol. Sometimes, we have to learn to share.”

  For a second, the masked man considered this. Alex could still feel the sarcasm on his tongue. Krol seemed to have ignored it.

  “This is acceptable, provided you can demonstrate its use.”

  Krol began to pick himself up, a slow process of unfolding old limbs.

  “I believe we have an agreement. Nelson will help you with your decontamination and I am sure–”

  “Wait!” Alex had noticed what was missing from the conversation. “What about Cam?”

  “We do not negotiate on this.”

  “A package deal, Krol. All or nothing. I told you.”

  “You have nothing to offer. No guarantees, no assurances. I told you. We do not operate on faith. Belief is not enough.”

  “We have plenty to offer. Skills. Medical knowledge. Training. Listen to me, you don’t want us to keep fighting you!”

  “You can keep fighting. And you will lose. You will – in all likelihood – die. The offer remains, whether you accept it or not.”

  “This is my home.” Alex was standing, advancing across the room. “And I will tell you–”

  He stopped.

  Cam had hold of Alex’s arm.

  “My friend, stop. Please.”

  Alex felt his body pulling him away, his hands itching to grab Krol by the throat, to rip away the mask again, and beat the invader to a bloody pulp. But Cam wouldn’t let go.

  “Cam, we can’t just leave you–”

  “Yeah, you pretty much can. I’m telling you to. Hey!” Cam leaned around Alex, looking at Krol. “Y’all got any books?”

  Adjusting his dials, buttoning his coat up to the neck, Krol nodded.

  “There we go, then.” Cam looked Alex in the eye. “I can do time in here. Hell, it’s basically a vacation.”

  “Cam, you can’t be serious?”

  “I am.”

  “And the rest of you? You can’t let him…”

  Alex looked to Joan and Timmy, still sat on the mattress.

  They nodded.

  “Your friends seem to have accepted on your behalf.” Krol stood up to his full height, towering over the four prisoners. “A true democracy. Commons sense prevails. How captivating.”

  There was nothing left to argue. Alex looked from face to face. They stared back. Timmy nodded. It was done. Only Cam seemed at ease with the decision, leaning up again against the wall, biting at a nail in his disinterested manner.

  In reality, Alex thought, that was the only opinion which mattered.

  Defeated, Alex offered his hand. Krol looked down and did nothing.

  “I can spit in it, if you like?” Alex brought his hand up to his mouth, hiding a smirk.

  “I am not one for social graces. My word is enough.”

  Krol turned and left. There was no pomp or circumstance to his exit, just a slow, deliberate walk directly to the door, disappearing into the outside world.

  They watched him go.

  “Man, what’s his deal?”

  Timmy broke the silence, offering out a hand and helping Joan up from the mattress on the floor.

  “You got any idea?” Timmy turned to Nelson, still holding the torch and standing beside the door.

  No answer.

  Together, Alex, Timmy, and Joan said their goodbyes to Cam. They promised that they would get him out of the quarantine as quickly as they could, that they would bring him food and books, that they would do all sorts of things to help him pass the time.

  “Don’t fret,” he told them, his face calm. “I’m just going to sit here and do nothing. Been too long since I’ve just done absolute zero.”

  Alex glared at Cam, daring him to show any signs of worry. The soldier stared back, unblinking. If he was worried, he wasn’t showing it. A stoic rock staring out at the stormy sea. That unshakeable gaze.

  With that, Nelson hurried them out of the stable door and drew the bolt shut.

  It was night outside. The burning torch in his hand cast a pool of orange light around the courtyard.

  “Did you see that?” Timmy asked. “Did you see them?”

  “Yeah.” Alex had seen the faces appearing at the windows and ducking down again.

  “Who the hell are they?”

  “Ask him.” Alex pointed at Nelson, who walked just ahead.

  “Hey, man–”

  “They’re the other people who live here.” Nelson didn’t look back as he spoke. “Four of us.”

  “Just four of you?”

  “And Krol.”

  “Just four.” Timmy shook his head. “We could have taken them, man.”

  “Doubt it.” Nelson kept walking. “We got all the guns.”

  “Fair point, fair point. But I see Alex here messed up your nose pretty good.” Timmy chuckled.

  Nelson stopped and turned around on the spot. The broken nose glowed in the torch light, even under the medical mask. The bruising had spread out to his two swollen eyes.

  “Me and my sister, we could knock you the hell out, skinny boy. Jamie, she was ex-army. Or marine. Something. She’s not messing around. Even Jenna’s got more muscles on her than you and she’s nineteen. So you’re not taking us, no chance.”

  “Sorry, man, couldn’t hear you over the sound of your nose breaking.”

  “Timmy!” Joan swatted his arm. “Stop talking.”

  “It’s fine.” Nelson turned back to the house. “Seem to remember Krol making short work of the whole lot of you.”

  Timmy laughed.

  “Yeah, man. He’s a monster. Hey, what was that you were saying about the other people living here?”

  “I said what I said.”

  They were almost at the porch.

  “Can we meet them?”

  “You’ve got to decontaminate first.”

  “What about my dog?” Alex had been bottling up the question, too worried that it would become a bargaining chip to mention it sooner. “Can I see my dog?”

  “Dog’s locked up. Fine.” Nelson didn’t turn around to Alex as he talked. “Decontaminate first, then we’ll take you to the dog.”

  They stepped up on to the porch and walked in through the door.

  The house was empty. Not just of people, but of possessions. When Alex had left, he’d handed over the keys to Eames and left everything covered in dust sheets. Underneath the cotton, it had been exactly as his parents had kept it.

  But now the rooms were barren. Like the fields outside, there was just a
whole lot of empty space. The carpets had been rolled up, the furniture taken away. Certain spots on the floor were less faded than others. Alex filled in the blanks with his memories of the couches and tables that had once stood in those places.

  Already, he had a hundred questions for Krol.

  But he had to play it slow.

  They didn’t linger in the house. Nelson walked them straight to a bedroom where a collection of camp beds, cots, and mattresses offered a hastily arranged sleeping space for three people. It had been the dining room, Alex knew.

  Now it was a cramped bedroom. A cell.

  “You three are here.” Nelson pointed them into the room, keeping the torch low and clear of the ceiling. Black marks and spots showed where he’d failed. “There’s antibacterial soap here. Bathroom’s across the hall. Water’s hot. We’ll bring more. Scrub up. Wash that disease off you.”

  “Hey, man, we’re not infectious.”

  “We’ll see about that, man.” Nelson dragged out the last word before leaving.

  It was dark inside the bedroom. Joan eased herself on to the mattress.

  “That’s not much better than before.”

  “We’ve swapped one cell for another,” said Alex. “Call this progress?”

  Timmy grabbed hold of the soap.

  “Ask me in ten minutes,” he said. “Let’s see what they’re all about.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a clean Timothy Ratz.” Joan leaned back as she mused. “What a terrible thought.”

  “You wait,” Timmy told her. “I’ll be a whole new man.”

  They laughed because there was nothing else to do. All that worry, all that fear, all that trepidation: all they could do was laugh. Better than to admit to any anxiety. They were inside the farm, a different kind of cell. They’d arrived. Almost.

  7

  Alex had shaved with cold water and the fast wind whipping in from the fields dug into the nicks and cuts the dull razor left in his face. Life on the farm was not what he had expected.

  The weeks since they arrived had been busy.

  His first realization was how much he hated Krol. The tall man plodded around the house – his house – without saying a word.