Sunrise

The next morning we finally found Rita Mae less than fifteen miles from Worthington. A huge shotgun was slung across her tiny back, and her crazed white hair escaped from her hat in straggly wisps. She led a ragtag group of twenty-four, mostly children, six of whom were so sick that they were being dragged along on makeshift stretchers. I ran forward to give her a hug.

“Where’s everyone else?” I asked. “Earl and—” “They’re dead, Alex,” Rita Mae said. “They stayed behind to fight, to delay the DWBs so we could get away. I would have stayed too . . . but . . . but someone had to . . . had to . . .” she gestured at the kids arrayed around her and broke down crying. I held her head against my shoulder, amazed that she had brought anyone out. Rita Mae was beyond tough—she was easily the oldest person I had seen in more than a year, as almost all the survivors were under thirty-five—maybe she was too cantankerous to die. Still, the death toll had been horrendous. The last time I’d talked to Mayor Kenda on the shortwave, nearly two hundred people had called Worthington home.

“You’re safe now,” I said softly.

Rita Mae broke the embrace and looked around. Our soldiers were everywhere—some of them spread out in a defensive posture, some of them tending to Rita Mae’s charges. “You’ve got more than a hundred soldiers here?” “Three hundred. About a third of them are out scouting, though.”

“It’s enough. You could retake Worthington. Kill those sons of bitches. Kill them all.”

“We could.”

“But you won’t, will you?”

“No.” I let my breath escape my lungs. It sounded like a dying man’s sigh.

Rita Mae’s tiny fists were clenched. “They killed everyone, Alex. Mayor Kenda, Sheriff Earl, Mrs. Nance, Mr. Chapman—”

“I know.”

“Then why? Why not restore some order to this corner of the world? The DWBs deserve to hang, every one of them, but shooting will do just fine.”

“I can’t restore order everywhere—”

“But—”

“And if I try, not only the DWBs will die. Some of our people will die too. Sometimes it’s best to do nothing.”

“All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.”

“Why do you think they attacked Worthington?” I asked.

Rita Mae snorted. “We know why they attacked. They were starving. We had food and they didn’t. To them, we are food.”

“Right. And Worthington was the toughest target in the area. Now that you’re gone, what will happen?” “They’ll migrate in search of food.”

“Maybe. And if they come our way, we’ll be able to deal with them on our own ground, using our prepared defenses. Far fewer of our people will die in that kind of battle. But what if they don’t—or can’t—migrate?”

“I don’t know.”

“They’ll eat each other. I’ve seen it before in Freeport. Ca

Rita Mae folded her arms across her chest. “That’s a cold way of looking at it.”

“It’s a cold world.”

“I want to see them hang.”

“Which do you think is a more horrible way to die? The few seconds of pain during a hanging? Or having a friend knife you in the back while you sleep?”

We stopped for the day, setting up a defensive perimeter around another mostly burned farmhouse. Nylce spent the day consolidating patrols, sending scouts out toward Worthington, trying to locate the DWBs, and pla

I circulated among Rita Mae’s charges, making sure they all had food, water, and warm clothing. A few of them had minor injuries—mostly frostbite—but there was nothing that couldn’t wait until we reached Dr. McCarthy and Belinda. The sick kids seemed to be improving now that they had food, warm clothing, and could ride in the Bikezillas’ load beds.

We made great time the next day, collecting our people in Bellevue and reaching the west bank of the Mississippi just before dusk. We could travel faster when we were on a known route; it was easier to plan and coordinate the movement of our scouts.

We set out across the frozen expanse of the Mississippi the next morning at dawn. Less than fifteen minutes after we started out, the shortwave crackled to life. “Alex, if you can hear this, stop and set up your ante

Rebecca operated the shortwave during daylight hours. I squeezed the brakes, and my Bikezilla skidded to a stop. I handed one end of the ante

“Alex here. What’s wrong? Over.”

“It’s your mother, Alex. They took her.”

Chapter 76

I jammed the talk lever down so hard I briefly wondered if the mike would break. “Who took her? Where? When?” I was so rattled I held the lever, forgetting to let up and allow her to speak for a moment. “Over,” I finally said, releasing the lever.

“There are five people missing—Stocktonites. Sort of a sleeper cell of Reds, we think.”

“Maybe she left with them on purpose?”

“No. They left a note tacked to the door of Longhouse Five. They want five Bikezillas loaded with food. We’re supposed to leave them at that wrecked bank near Stockton. And Alex, there was . . .

a pinkie finger attached to the note. It looks like your Mom’s.”

I ordered Nylce to detach her twelve fastest Bikezillas carrying forty-seven soldiers plus me. Nylce stayed with the remaining soldiers and the refugees from Worthington while I raced for Speranta, finishing the roughly forty-mile trek before dark. Darla met me at the door of the longhouse.

“I sent out scouts to try to track them, but we lost their trail on an icy stretch of Highway 78. I’m sorry.” My legs were rubbery from the exertion of the long ride. I held open my arms and stumbled into Darla’s embrace. “It’s okay. You did exactly what I would have. Get five Bikezillas loaded up with food, would you? I want to leave at first light.”

“You’re going to give in to them?”

“Sort of. Have someone find Ben and send him to the kitchen, please. I’ve got to sit down and eat something.”

I went over my plan with Ben. He made a few tweaks, and then we went over it several more times, thinking through everything that could go wrong. Finally, I excused myself to go to bed. I had to be at one hundred percent the next day, which meant I needed to sleep.

As I stood up from my late, working di

“Alyssa and Wyn,” Petty said. “Are we leaving now?” “Is she okay?”

“She wasn’t there when they took your mother, thank God. When are we leaving?”

“Not now. First thing in the morning.”

“We need to go now. God knows what’s happening to her out there!”

“They want to make a trade. They won’t hurt her.” “What? Chopping off a finger doesn’t count?”

He had a point. “Regardless, there’s nothing we can do until the morning. And Bob, I’m sorry, but you can’t come.” Petty stared at me for a moment, his face turning a progressively deeper shade of purple. Then he banged his hands on the armrest of his wheelchair so hard that the whole thing rattled. “Goddamn these legs!” He drew in a heavy breath and seized my right hand. “You’ll bring her home, right?”

“I will. Now let me get some sleep. We’re leaving before dawn.”

But I was still awake when Darla came to bed more than two hours later. “Everything’s ready,” she said. “We can leave at first light.”

“You’ve got to stay and run things here.”

“I already worked it out with your uncle. I appointed him vice-vice mayor. I’m going.”