Dust 2_A New World Order

  “Move on,” the soldier next to him instructed.

  Dust nodded and reluctantly began to walk, but he kept his eyes on the red-haired man as long as he could before looking down at the floor. He silently tried to understand what was happening. Nothing was making sense. First he had powers, then he didn’t, now he did—it was like watching a train wreck about to happen and not being able to stop it.

  He numbly followed the men as they stepped into a massive elevator large enough to fit a truck inside. He stood facing the back since no one else turned around. The soldier next to him looked his way when he rolled his shoulders at the discomfort of having his hands cuffed behind his back. He looked at the man and gave him a pained expression.

  “These things hurt a little,” he muttered.

  The soldier’s expression softened slightly, but he made no move to remove them. Dust fell silent and looked down at his worn tennis shoes. He wiggled his toes and noticed that his big toe was beginning to make a hole in the top of one shoe.

  “Come on, kid,” the soldier said, gently holding his arm.

  Dust looked up and saw that they were in a corridor that opened into a wide area, which forked off in several different directions. The soldier led him across the open area and down a long corridor. He jerked to a stop when he glanced through a door that was opening and saw Sammy.

  “Sammy!”

  Dust pulled away from the soldier and took a step toward the open door. The man who had been standing in the doorway glanced at him before looking back into the room. Sammy heard his voice and started forward. He growled in frustration when he saw a soldier inside the room grab Sammy’s arm.

  The man in the doorway quickly closed the door, shutting off his view of Sammy. He parted his lips to protest, but quickly clamped them shut when the guard next to him had stepped between him and the door.

  “This way, son,” the man quietly ordered.

  Resentment flashed through Dust, and he turned his frustration on the man standing in his way. He curled his fingers as he tried to remember the lessons his dad had taught him about picking his battles. He swallowed and took a step back. He focused on the door, being sure to note the room number on it. If he got a chance, he would find a way to come back.

  “I don’t know why you are treating us this way. We weren’t messing with you,” Dust muttered.

  The man stopped and looked at him for a moment before he responded. Dust hadn’t been expecting an answer. He was just upset that they were treating them like criminals—and keeping them apart. His glance moved from the man back down to the door they had passed before he looked back at the man again.

  “It’s a new world, son. Things have changed,” the man said.

  Dust wanted to roll his eyes at the man. If anyone knew it had changed, it was him, as well as Sammy and all the others. They were the ones who had been surviving out in that world, not locked up and protected in some underground military base.

  “We know it has changed. We’ve been out there. Just because it’s different doesn’t mean you should treat the people who have survived like this,” he quietly answered.

  The guard shook his head. “It isn’t my call,” he replied.

  Dust pursed his lips. “Whose is it?” he asked.

  “Mine,” another voice answered.

  Dust turned to see a tall man with gray hair walking toward him. His glance flickered over the man’s name tag before he looked at the man’s face. Deep lines etched the man’s mocha-colored complexion. The man’s dark brown eyes studied him with the same look that the principal back in school had used when he was trying to determine who was guilty of misbehaving.

  “My name is General McCullon,” the man introduced himself.

  Dust shifted and grimaced when he tried to move his hands and arms. General McCullon’s eyes narrowed for a moment before he motioned to the guard next to him. The guard immediately stepped behind him and removed the restraints. Dust rubbed the red marks on his wrists and looked at the General in confusion.

  “Thank you,” Dust said in an uncertain tone.

  “Don’t try anything. They won’t hesitate to shoot you—or your friends,” the General warned.

  “Yes, sir,” Dust mumbled.

  Dust absently rubbed the mark on his wrist and warily watched as the General turned and walked down the hall. Another soldier, a woman, hurried and opened the door at the end of the hall.

  He was surprised when only the guard who had spoken to him, the woman, and the General entered the room. It was a sparsely furnished area with a single table and two chairs. He looked at Sarge with an uncertain expression. The man nodded toward one of the chairs.

  Dust walked over to the table and pulled out the chair. He winced and shot everyone an apologetic look when a loud screech of metal-on-concrete shrieked with a deafening loudness. Sliding into the chair, he folded his hands in front of him on the table.

  “Sorry,” he muttered.

  The General lifted his chair and pulled it back before sitting down across from him. Dust’s thumbs twitched as he patiently waited for the man to speak. He slowly leaned back in his seat when the man didn’t say anything.

  “You’re very quiet for a kid,” General McCullon observed.

  Dust shrugged. “What is there to say?” he quipped.

  He winced inside when he saw the older man’s eyes narrow. Clearing his throat, he dropped his hands to his lap. Being sarcastic probably wasn’t a good idea right now.

  “Another one with attitude,” the General dryly replied, looking at the woman standing at ease by the door.

  Dust choked back a laugh. “You must have been talking to Josie,” he stated before clamping his mouth shut.

  “Tell me about her,” General McCullon ordered.

  Dust’s stomach clenched. With a wary expression, he tried to decide what to say.

  “About Josie? She’s okay,” he said in an uneasy voice.

  General McCullon raised an eyebrow. “Please explain ‘okay’,” he requested.

  Dust shrugged. “She’s a girl…,” he started to say.

  “That is obvious. What I want to know is what else can she do?” the general stated in a hard tone.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” Dust hedged.

  Dust pressed back against his seat when McCullon leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. The move might have appeared innocent if not for the intense, unblinking stare that conveyed his irritation.

  “Don’t play dumb with me, boy. I can make life very difficult for you and your friends if you refuse to cooperate. I want to know what each of you can do, who you are, where you came from, and if there are any more of you that I need to worry about. In other words, I want to know everything, down to what you had for breakfast this morning,” McCullon stated in a harsh voice.

  Dust returned the man’s hard look. “I’m not trying to play dumb, sir. I just don’t know what you want to know. There is just the group of us that your men took. We kinda just found each other over time and come from just about everywhere. My folks were farmers from Southeast Oklahoma. Sammy and Todd are from a town not too far from mine. We met up with the others along the way. None of us want any trouble. Martha made breakfast this morning. I had the green beans,” he finished.

  “The girl, Josie, she can start fires. Can she do anything else?” McCullon asked.

  Dust shook his head. “Todd likes it when she roasts marshmallows for him,” he said with a crooked grin.

  “She wasn’t roasting marshmallows back on that bridge. You were on it as well. What were you doing?” McCullon pressed.

  “Trying not to get killed,” Dust honestly answered.

  McCullon looked at the woman again. Dust didn’t miss her slight nod. It looked like he’d be needing to stick as close to the truth as possible in present company. He rubbed his hands along the worn material of his jeans and waited.

  McCullon sat back in his seat and relaxed. “You and your friends will be screened by the
doctors to make sure you’re alright. Once you’ve been cleared, you’ll be transported to a city the Air National Guard has set up for refugees in Portland, Oregon,” he explained.

  “All of us?” Dust asked, wanting to make sure that he understood what the man was saying.

  “Everyone but the girl,” McCullon stated, rising to his feet.

  Dust pushed his chair back and stood up. “We aren’t going without Josie. She’s… family,” he protested with a frown.

  “She’s infected,” McCullon stated with a nod to the woman and Sarge.

  Dust clenched his fists. “Josie’s not infected. She is special. We wouldn’t have survived without her. We won’t leave her behind,” he defended.

  McCullon’s eyes narrowed. Dust didn’t care if the man saw that he was mad. He wasn’t going to abandon Josie, and he knew none of the others would either.

  “Place him with the others,” McCullon instructed, turning and walking out of the door the woman opened for him.

  Dust watched the General leave. He didn’t say anything else. There was no point in arguing, it was obvious the man had made up his mind. What the General didn’t know was that so had he. There was no way he was leaving Josie behind.

  “This way,” the sergeant said, standing to the side so Dust could exit the room in front of him.

  “What if we don’t want to go to this base?” Dust asked, pausing in front of the man.

  Sarge shook his head and gave him a sympathetic look. “The world has changed, son. You and the others are lucky to have survived this long,” he replied without answering Dust’s question.

  “My name is Dust. My parents died in the blast. If anyone knows that the world has changed, sir, I think it is us,” he quietly said before stepping into the hallway.

  He followed the sergeant down the hallway. The two guards standing outside the door they had passed earlier nodded to the sergeant before looking at him. Dust ignored them. Instead, he rubbed his hands impatiently on his jeans as he waited for them to open the door. The moment they did, he saw Sammy.

  “You can…,” the sergeant started to say.

  Dust pushed past the man and strode into the room without a backward glance. His gaze swept the room. Raymond stood up from where he’d been sitting next to Martha. Randolph straightened from where he’d been leaning against the wall near Denise. A grin lit up his face when Todd ran up to him and jumped. Dust caught the young boy under his arms and lifted him off the ground.

  “We were afraid they had hurt you. Then, we were scared they weren’t going to let us see you again,” Todd exclaimed in an excited voice.

  “Where’s Josie?” Randolph demanded, glancing at the door.

  Dust lowered Todd back to the floor, turned, and looked at the door. It was closed. He looked at Randolph with a worried expression. He didn’t know if the room was bugged. Randolph saw his gaze move to the corners of the room.

  “It’s clean. We checked,” Randolph said in a lower voice.

  Sammy nodded. “We searched everything, including under the chairs and benches,” she said.

  “Do you know where Josie is, Dust?” Martha asked.

  “Or what they plan on doing with us?” Denise added with a shiver.

  “They plan on shipping us out to Portland to the Air National Guard Base. I’m not sure when they plan on doing it, though. The General said something about getting clearance first from the doctors,” Dust explained.

  “What about Josie?” Randolph asked again.

  Dust shook his head. “They are planning on keeping her,” he answered in a quiet voice.

  “No way! We are not leaving her behind,” Sammy stated, folding her arms across her chest.

  “So, what are we gonna do? We can’t leave without Josie,” Todd said in an anxious tone.

  Dust rested his hand on Todd’s shoulder. “We’re going to get her out,” he promised.

  “Sammy and Todd are right. We can’t leave Josie here. I was in the military long enough to know what they will do to someone like her,” Raymond agreed.

  “This place is a fortress. How are we going to get out of here, much less find Josie and get her out as well?” Denise asked.

  Dust looked grimly at the others. As much as he didn’t want to stress them out any more than they already were, they deserved to know that there was another added danger—the man that he’d seen upstairs. What he had sensed was different from just the usual bad feeling. His body had reacted to the man the same way it had reacted to Daciana.

  His fear that he was losing the powers he had awoken with, faded into a deeper suspicion that perhaps his body was changing and adapting in a different way. It was like his body was beginning to recognize when he should use his abilities and when he should hide them. He looked at Randolph.

  “Did you sense anyone here who has been changed?” he asked.

  Randolph nodded. “There was a woman. She came into the room when one of the officers came in to ask us a bunch of questions. She didn’t say anything, just stood by the door. She didn’t like some of Sammy’s answers,” he said.

  Dust turned his attention to Sammy. “What kind of questions?” he quietly asked.

  “He asked if I had witnessed any of the others in here doing strange things,” she said, her lips twitching.

  “What did you tell him?” Dust asked, curious about what she found amusing.

  Sammy lifted a delicate eyebrow and grinned at him. “I asked him if seeing who could pee the furthest was considered strange,” she said.

  “That was me,” Todd bragged with a grin. “I was trying to see if I could pee further than Randolph.”

  “That’s more information than he needed to know,” Randolph muttered, turning a little red when Denise giggled. “The woman knows if anyone lies.”

  “Fortunately, we all picked up on Randolph’s subtle hint and made sure we stuck to vague answers, or in Sammy’s case, sarcasm,” Raymond said.

  “We were terrified they were going to hurt you two. The way they kept asking questions about what was going on back on the bridge, knocking only you and Josie out, and keeping us separated…,” Sammy murmured.

  “I have a feeling that what has happened so far is going to be the least of our worries,” Dust said, looking at Raymond, then at Randolph.

  “What is it?” Raymond asked.

  Dust looked at Sammy. “I saw someone here…. I’m not sure, but I think one of those bugs might have made it across the bridge,” he quietly shared.

  Chapter Ten

  Infested:

  A shiver ran through Tommy as he stumbled into the men’s restroom. He clawed at his head, pulling at his hair. His head hurt, and he felt nauseous. He stumbled to the sink.

  “Get out of my head,” he groaned, leaning over the porcelain bowl.

  A whimper slipped out before he could stop it. He didn’t know what was going on. He’d woken up in the helicopter feeling sick and—weird.

  The door behind him opened and Chuck, another member of the maintenance crew, stepped inside and walked over to the urinal. He glanced in the mirror before looking away. Turning on the faucet, he scooped water into his hands and washed his face.

  “Hey, Tommy. You feeling alright? You look a little pale,” Chuck said when he walked over and washed his hands.

  Tommy nodded and turned off the water. “Just a headache,” he mumbled, grabbing a towel from the basket and wiping his face.

  “Well, I hope you feel better,” Chuck replied.

  “Have you heard anything about the people that were found?” Tommy suddenly asked.

  Chuck shrugged. “I heard one of the women might be infected. They never really tell us much. If your head is bad, you could go by medical and get something. The crew there always knows what is going on since they have to evaluate them,” he suggested.

  “Good idea. Maybe I will,” Tommy replied.

  “If you do, let me know. I’ve got to get back to work. See you later,” Chuck said.

 
Tommy nodded and waited until the door closed before he pulled the towel away from his nose and mouth. A shudder went through him when he saw the pristine white towel was soaked with bright red blood. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he watched in horror as a small bug crawled out of his nose. His lips parted in revulsion and the insect scurried into his mouth. Gagging, he bent over the sink, turned the water on, and frantically tried to flush the bug out. A shudder ran through him when instead he felt it crawl down his throat.

  “What the f…?” he started to mumble when he heard footsteps approaching.

  Tommy wiped his face once more and tossed the soiled towel into the hole with the rest of the dirty hand towels. He needed to go to medical but he was afraid. Over the course of the last couple of years there had been survivors that were found and never seen again after the medical unit determined that they were infected.

  Maybe he had hallucinated the bug. After all, his head was killing him. It was possible that the bug had just been a figment of his imagination brought on by a fever and headache. He’d go back to his room and get some aspirin from his locker.

  “It’s just my imagination,” he muttered as he walked down the corridor toward the barracks that he shared with the other men.

  Clues:

  Daciana blindly stared down at the human’s body. She curled her fingers around the folder. He had told her what she wanted to know before he reached into his pocket with a shaking hand and pulled out a couple of small pills. She had watched with curiosity as he slipped them into his mouth. Within seconds, he’d collapsed to the floor with white foam bubbling from between his lips.

  She had instinctively recoiled from the smell of poison. She turned her head when she heard a wailing howl from the beasts that lived in the research complex. The animals were what was left of the security dogs. They had not been part of Hilda Zimmerman’s experiments.