Ashen Winter

“Yeah,” Pudge turned to one of the grunts. “You search it yet? Any flesh on board?”

“No, sir.”

“Do it now.”

“Yes, sir.” Two of the grunts trotted to the back of the truck. I stood with Alyssa and Ben, shifting my weight from foot to foot, waiting. Nails screeched from within the truck as they forced the wooden crates open. Pudge stared at me and fingered his pistol, a greedy look in his eye. The other Black Lake guys had left the crest of the knoll. They were using a hand winch to crank one of the telephone poles back into place. It was affixed to its base with a huge hinge and held up by guy wires. Obviously they’d prepared this spot as a trap long ago—and pla

“Ammo and manacles,” one of the grunts reported when they returned from inside our truck.

A disappointed look passed across Pudge’s face. He snapped his holster strap shut. “Davis, Roberts: Follow us in the captured vehicle. Phelps, Miner: Load the prisoners.

I guessed that meant us. Two of the guys led us to the far side of the knoll where a cargo truck was parked. It was tall and armored, looking something like an oversized elephant with stubby legs. The Black Lake grunts lifted us into the enclosed cargo bed.

The door closed behind us with a resounding clang.

Chapter 60

A sparse light filtered through the small grate at the top of the cargo hold. When my eyes adjusted, I saw the area was bare except for a metal bench on either side. The truck roared to life, and I sat down with a lurch.

Ben was moaning, rocking back and forth. Alyssa talked to him, her voice inhumanly calm considering that we’d just been tossed into the back of a cargo truck. I wanted to yell in frustration, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good.

After about ten minutes, Ben quieted. I tried to explain to Alyssa and Ben what I thought was happening. We were being taken to a camp, I figured, like the one Darla and I had done time in last year. Black Lake got paid by FEMA according to the number of “refugees” they housed, so they scoured the countryside looking for people to capture and move into their camps.

I wondered how Black Lake got paid. Dollars were worthless in Iowa and Illinois now—we had to trade for anything we needed. What would a big corporation want in trade? I couldn’t guess.

Alyssa seemed to take it in stride. I suppose after you’ve been enslaved by a ca

We were only on the road for half an hour. Then we were herded into a dingy makeshift room built inside an abandoned WalMart. A battered metal desk sat directly under a skylight, which let in what little light there was. Two guards lounged in cheap plastic lawn chairs, and a bored-looking guy—Captain Alverman, according to the cloth strip sewn on his fatigues—wrote on old sheets of copy paper.

One of the guards searched us. I had a brief moment of panic when he patted my chest, feeling the pockets that held my kale and wheat, but the packages must have been soft enough not to arouse suspicion—he didn’t investigate further. Other than that, we had nothing to take. My backpack was still in the truck we’d taken from the Peckerwoods. As far as I knew, Alyssa and Ben had only the clothes on their backs.

Captain Alverman interviewed us in a bored monotone voice, jotting our names in tiny handwriting on a sheet of copy paper already packed with names. I remembered the printed list of refugees’ names Rita Mae had shown me. Now there were no computers or printers visible. Evidently things were getting worse—even for Black Lake.

When Alverman finished, his guards escorted us out the front of the WalMart. On the far side of the road there was a huge enclosure built from chain-link fence—it stretched so far in either direction that I couldn’t see the whole thing. It was easily as big as Camp Galena had been, and that place had held almost fifty thousand people. The fence was twelve feet high, not counting the coil of razor wire topping it. It looked identical to the fence Black Lake had built at Camp Galena—the one Darla had pretty much destroyed with a bulldozer as we escaped. I would never have escaped that camp by myself. But this time I was on my own.

As we got closer, I saw a pair of guards patrolling a well-worn path in the snow around the outside of the fence. Each of them carried an assault rifle.

We approached a tiny guard shack just outside a gate. One of our guards got a key from the guy in the shack and unlocked the gate. Another cut the plastic handcuffs off us and pushed us through. I rubbed my right arm, trying to work the painful kinks out of my shoulder.

Uneven rows of tents stretched out across the camp before us. Some were canvas tents like the ones in Camp Galena last year, but these seemed dirtier, more ragged. Many of them bore makeshift patches made with scraps of plastic. None of them rested on platforms—and I knew from experience how cold the frozen ground would be.

And not everyone had a real tent. Some of the shelters were just chunks of plastic propped up on sticks. I saw a few that weren’t even plastic—instead made of old bedspreads. I guessed they’d at least keep the wind out. Hundreds of people were visible, talking in small groups or milling around. Thousands more must have been huddled in their tents, trying to escape the bitter wind.

Before we could figure out what to do, an Asian kid who looked to be about twelve broke away from a group nearby and strode up to us. Well, up to Alyssa. He raked his eyes up and down her. Not that there was much to see—she was bundled in winter clothes like everyone else. But the clothing and dirt somehow didn’t dim her beauty, just cloaked it.

“Welcome to Camp Maquoketa,” the kid said. The name of the camp rocketed through my mind. My parents might be here. How would I find them amid this multitude? “You need to go to The Principal’s office, girlie.”

“The principal?”

The kid gave me an a

I started to step between him and Alyssa, but she held me back with a hand on my arm.

“That’s so sweet,” Alyssa said in a syrupy voice. “What’s your name?”

“Flash, The. Shaken and stirred. At your service, girlie.”

Alyssa took one of his hands in hers. “Nice to meet you, Flash. My name’s Alyssa. What do you mean, the principal’s office?”

I eyed Flash. He didn’t seem to be a threat, but maybe he was working with someone else. Ben was completely absorbed in watching the two guards as they patrolled outside the fence. He was mumbling something too quietly for me to understand.

Flash had a goofy grin on his face. The hand Alyssa held was visibly shaking with excitement. He still hadn’t answered her question.

“Who’s the principal?” she said.

“She looks after all the pretty girls. So they don’t disappear. Well, mostly they don’t.”

“Disappear?” I asked.

“Come with me,” Flash said, still addressing Alyssa. “I’ll show you around. Make introductions, as they say.” He was totally butchering a James Bond accent. He started pulling on her hand, leading her toward the center of the camp.

Alyssa and I followed him for about ten feet and then she stopped, pulling Flash to a halt as well. Ben hadn’t moved. “Ben! Come on!” she yelled.

He didn’t hear—or wouldn’t respond—still absorbed in watching the guards.

“Will you get him, please?” she asked me.

I trotted back to him and reached out to touch him, pulling my hand back at the last moment. “Ben, Alyssa needs you.”

“The Sister Unit needs me,” he replied. “The rule is that when the Sister Unit needs help, Ben helps. I will observe the guards later.” He turned to follow me.