The night passed without incident, much to Frank's relief. It had been chilly, though he had good layers and a sleeping blanket, and his bones and joints felt it. There had even been some creaks and pops in the morning when he'd stirred himself. As he'd secured his belongings in or on top of the SUV again, Frank had reflected on this with a smirk. It had only been five years as far as he could tell, but he felt so much older. Did it had something to do with his seeming separation from Gaia and his anima? That was certainly possible.
Then again, from what the Murton family was telling him, a hell of a lot had transpired between then now. As Solomon Lancaster used to tell him, 'it's not the years, it's the mileage.'
Once they were on the road again, dashboard dining with protein bars and bottled water as they sped through rural West Virginia, Frank turned his head to Andre.
“So, lil' fellah. Tell me your story about th' Free Corps.”
Andre's story started a few days after 'the day where the sky got really weird, and scary. After we left our other house.' That was how the child ordered things: there was Pittsburgh, when they lived in a tent, and when they had a house again. They had found another huddle of survivors, men and women in cars and in trucks and campers.
“Just south of Moundsville,” Issac said helpfully from behind the wheel.
“Daaaaad! I'm telling the story!”
Issac and Jessica had both laughed, but Issac apologized to his son, and with a impish grin, the curly haired boy had taken up his tale again.
“It wasn't too bad. I missed our place with our other house. It was nice to see other kids to play with. And the people in the green truck had a dog! And I liked playing with the dog. But one day, we were there, and the squid-heads came. I think they came from where our other house was. I was scared, and mom and dad were scared.”
Frank nodded as Andre mimed driving.
“We tried to all get into our new truck and go away, but we weren't fast enough. And then...and then the superheroes showed up!”
“Superheroes?” echoed Frank, smiling at the boy, who nodded vigorously.
“They had to be! They were super fast, and super strong! There was one? He had claws, like Wolverine! And another had a hammer, like Thor...except she was a girl, and Thor's not a girl, but she could swing it really hard!”
“Well, I think Thor was a girl at some point,” Jessica interjected from the front. Issac, Frank and Andre all stopped to blink at her. She put her hands up in response.
“What? I read it in the paper one day before all this started. It was a big enough deal to be in there,” she chuckled. Andre rolled his eyes at yet another interruption but rolled on, clamping his hands together and waving them back and forth.
“And, and, and there was a guy with a sword! And he waved it around like this. And then there was a girl, she was older than me but not old like you guys” --this brought moans of mock disapproval from the front seat—“who threw fire! She'd stick her hands out like this and float off the ground and boom! Some people were scared of them too...but I wasn't. They were there to save us, I know it. And then we got away! The end.”
“Now that's a good story, Andre,” Frank stated with a grin, folding his arms across his chest.
“They came out of nowhere, Frank,” said Issac, speaking to him without taking his eyes off the road as they drove towards Parkersburg. “One minute they weren't there, then they were. And Andre's right, they did save us, but...Frank they way they moved, what they could do. I dunno if I could rightly call them human.”
I never knew whether I could call us human or not either, Issac.
“One stopped near our SUV when it was over, before we all lit out of there,” said Jessica softly. “Told us they were from something called the 'Free Corps.' That they fought to protect people and knew no flag. If we wanted to be with them, we should head for Iowa. Sioux City. And then he was gone. Flash of light and gone.”
“We've heard a couple times the new capital is at Cheyenne Mountain, and we've heard that the government there says to head to places like Cincinnati, so, that's where we're going instead. Andre's superheroes were...incredible, they totally were man, but...I dunno. I dunno if we can fully trust people that can do things like that. I mean, how can they do all that? How do we know they're not just as bad as...as that voice and all that came from that?”
Issac shrugged heavily as he drove, and Frank nodded gently.
“Yeah, I reckon folks with super powers might have some secrets of their own,” he commented without the slightest irony.
Sioux City, eh.
Blackened frames of what used to be buildings stood all around Frank. Doors and windows blasted out, the ruins gaped at him like skulls; empty eyes, jagged teeth. The twisted remains of cars and buses surrounded Frank, burnt so badly that whatever color they used to be was no longer recognizable. All were a uniform black and gray, nothing more than charred metal skeletons. Above, the sky was a roiling black tempest, with the occasional flicker of lightning in the heavens. Strangely, though, there was no sound.
No rush of wind, or peal of distant thunder.
Staring out at the terrible scene around him, Frank turned in a slow circle. Where was he? What was this place? What was this horrible place?
As he turned, he heard a crunching, snapping sound beneath him. His gaze flickering sharply down, Frank saw he had just stepped through a fire-scored rib cage. Before his eyes, it turned to ash and floated away. Shuddering, recoiling, Frank pulled his head up, and found himself staring at yet another hollow wreck of a building. This one had a sign, though it was hard to make out.
Stumbling forward as if in a daze, Frank reached up with his sleeve to wipe away a measure of soot. Some of the letters of the sign gradually became visible, as if reluctant to show just what used to stand here.
'T-h orn-d od.'
Frank blinked, squinting.
The Horned God.
“Shit!” he hissed, backpedaling. “Shit, shit!” If the sign could be believed, this was Ealdwic.
This was London.
Breathing hard, Frank stared up once more at the pulsing black clouds.
“What th' fuck happened here?” He managed to rasp out.
“We died, Frank.”
The Templar operative spun about in place at the sudden noise, gasping at the woman he saw, dressed all in darkest black, as if in mourning.
With fiery red hair, tempestuous blue eyes and a personality to match, Evie Kensington was someone Frank would never forget, no matter how much time had passed. Her face, usually balancing between cool control or scrunched up in fond annoyance at him, was now sad. Deeply, achingly sad. Her hands, dextrous either wielding pen or blade, were clasped across her chest. She sighed, shaking her head as her body started to come apart, turning into ash before Frank's horrified eyes. Even becoming a cloud of particulate matter, Evie was able to speak.
“We died, Frank. All of us.”
Frank jerked awake inside the Murton's SUV.
Andre looked over at him, young eyes full of concern.
“You okay, Mister Frank?”
Shaking his head, Frank forced himself to smile back at the boy.
“Yeah. Just...dreams.”
They were almost to Parkersburg, now. Twice, they had seen other vehicles in the distance ahead of them, going the same direction. Issac had admitted aloud to the rest of them that he was glad to see some sign of other humans on the road.
“You start to think maybe you're the only ones left, you know? Wish I had some way to, I dunno, signal them. Just say 'hey! We're alive too!'”
The cars, however, had stayed far ahead, and Issac had resisted the urge to really put on the gas to catch up to them. Nowadays you couldn't know how that might be interpreted. If the mystery drivers were also headed to Parkersburg, they'd likely see them at the city.
As they drove, Frank mulled over the new information he'd received from the family. The Free Corps certainly sounded like anima imbued individuals. With different nicknames—Chosen of Gaia, Beestung, Bees, etc—such augmented humans (or perhaps even post humans) were capable of incredible feats far beyond mundanes. It went beyond their instant ability to use their anima for magic, went beyond throwing fire with their hands or being able to use a sword to cut through otherworldly hide.
They could run much, much faster than a normal human—and for much longer periods of time. They could leap far distances, fall hundreds of feet without so much as a scratch. If they could feel the presence of anima wells, they could rapidly teleport from well to well, moving in the blink of an eye and a flash of golden power. Wounds, depending on severity might heal in a matter of minutes or even seconds.
Mortal harm could even be undone. They were very, very hard to kill.
To children like Andre, they seemed like superheroes. Something to be in awe of.
To adults like Issac, however, they were one step removed from monsters. And why shouldn't they be? Bee-stung might not have horns or scales or tentacles, but they were just as unnatural as the other monsters now stalking across the earth. They could be just as terrifying.
Maybe it was better Frank felt no connection to his own anima any more.
Superheroes or monsters, the Murton family had been told this Free Corps was based in Sioux City, Iowa. For all Frank knew, it might just be the handful that Andre and his family witnessed. Or there might be hundreds or more, somehow having survived the cataclysm that had shaken the world. Maybe some of Frank's friends had made it there, alive. He wouldn't—couldn't--tell the Murtons, but Frank now believed that Sioux City should be his destination.
The question was how to get there.
“Hey guys, look! There it is. There's Parkersburg.”
Issac's voice broke him from his reverie, and Frank craned his head to see through the front windshield.
Parkersburg stretched out in front of them, a middling city by national standards with as much green space and hills around the outer edges as buildings. From their position on a higher elevation as they approached, Frank could see the bridges on the western side of the city that went across the Ohio river. He could also see a line of cars leading into the city, stopping at what seemed to be some kind of check-point.
“Huh,” murmured Jessica. “Maybe the feds are still in control here?”
“Maybe,” grunted Issac. “Guess we'll find out.”
As they got closer, they passed a sign announcing they were about to enter the city. “Parkersburg, established 1810.” Someone with black spray paint had put 'County of' in front of 'Parkersburg.'
Jessica had reacted with some surprise.
“I thought this was Wood county?”
Issac had shrugged heavily behind the wheel as they pulled up behind a stopped truck in line.
“I dunno, honey. Maybe the county is a lot smaller now?”
Frank could see flat stretches of ground on either side of the freeway, covered in gravel and weeds.
And tents. And little shacks. Cardboard box hovels. All about one hundred yards distant from the road. Soon the others picked them out as well.
“Who are they, mom?” Andre inquired, straightening in his seat to stare out the window.
“I don't know, sweetie. Maybe...maybe it's like back at Prosperity. Maybe they're waiting for help...”
Frank could tell from her voice she wasn't convinced. Neither was he. As the line of vehicles slowly started to inch forward, he spotted maybe a dozen people emerge from shacks and hovels and start walking quickly towards the road. Some waved. As they got closer, Frank could see the sunken features and dirty faces of people who hadn't had a good meal or wash in some time.
“What the hell?” breathed Issac as they approached the barely moving vehicles. Frank could hear them through the closed windows of the SUV.
“Help,” said one woman in tattered jeans. “Help. Anything you can spare. We'll take anything you can spare.”
“Do you have water? Hey man, do you have water? We just need some water.” asked a man up ahead with greasy hair and a wild beard.
The occupants of the Murton family vehicle looked on, bewildered.
“Mom, I think maybe they've been waiting for help a while,” said Andre quietly. Frank couldn't help but agree as a young boy, maybe eight approached his side of the SUV. He only said one word, holding out his hands.
“Please.”
Frank blinked back at him, then started reaching into the pack sitting between Andre and himself, talking to the front of the vehicle as he did.
“Guys, we can spare a little bit of what I brought along, I reckon. C'mon.” Frank fished out some tins of preserved foodstuffs and a water canister. From the drivers seat, Issac nodded slowly.
“Uh...yeah. Yeah, we can spare a little. I mean, we didn't bring your entire shack with us, Frank...but we can spare a little though, right honey?” Issac glanced over at his wife, who was already rummaging in the bookbag resting between her ankles on the floor.
“Of course we can. We can do something.”
Frank smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way to the boy as he rolled down his window. He could see other vehicles occupants were doing the same. The boy beamed back at him, seemingly too small for all that he was carrying back to the camp.
“Thanks!” he whispered back, and turned around to zip away from the road. Frank's smile started to slip a bit as he saw more and more people coming out of the camp.
“Uh.” Issac had seen it too. “Uh, that's...a lot of people.”
“Yeah it is.”
“Babbyyyyyy,” murmured Jessica, stretching out the word as it looked like a few hundred were crossing the distance to the road.
“I don't know if we got enough--” Issac started to say in an exasperated tone, before a sudden roar of noise cut him off.
“GET BACK TO THE CAMP. NOW. GET OFF THE ROAD! GET OFF THE ROAD, YOU FUCKING PARASITES! YOU WERE GIVEN THE CHANCE TO WORK TO EARN FOOD OR SAFE PASSAGE SINCE YOU DIDN'T HAVE ENOUGH FOR BARTER, AND YOU SAID NO! BACK TO YOUR LITTLE SHITHOLES!”
The voice was coming from a megaphone, by the sound of it, and was coming closer to them. At the first words, the shanty town folk started a mad scramble back off the road. Frank could see fear, almost blind panic on their faces as they ran. Some stumbled and fell, but were dragged back to their feet by their companions. As the exodus from the road continued, Frank tried to get a better look at what they were running from. Finally, he saw.
A pair of Humvees were rolling slowly down the eastbound side of the road. Each was the variant with an armored turret protecting the roof gunner, and each turret sported a heavy machine gun, weapons now swiveling to track the residents of the camp as they retreated from the road. The two transports might have been desert tan at some point, but now were covered in so much graffiti that their original color was anyone's guess.
Men and women with rifles and shotguns sat on the sloped back portion of each vehicle. All were hard eyed individuals, and had the look and posture of those who knew how to use the weapons they were carrying.
Frank also noticed that not a one of them was in uniform, but instead wore a mishmash of clothing. The only unifying feature was a green armband, sometimes just a green shirt or bandana. A rat faced man with a Mossberg caught Frank's look and stared him down as the Humvee passed by, the man with a bullhorn still haranguing the camp dwellers. Frank stared back for a second, then averted his gaze, feeling ashamed.
Before he would have almost dared the little fucker to do something. Now...now he was a seeming mundane, in a SUV full of other mundanes, his rifle packed away. Even if he could have reached it in case this bunch tried something, all he'd manage is to get himself and the Murton's killed.
God damn it. Who were these guys?
Now the speaker was done shouting at the shanty folk, and addressed the line of vehicles instead.
“SORRY FOR THAT BIT OF LOCAL COLOR. THAT IS WHAT HAPPENS TO PEOPLE WHO CAN'T BARTER FOR WHAT THEY NEED, AND AREN'T WILLING TO WORK. THAT'S THE CHOICE. IF YOU CAN'T PAY FOR WHAT YOU NEED OR PASSAGE ACROSS THE RIVER, THE CITY WILL OFFER YOU THE CHANCE TO WORK. IT IS A GENEROUS OFFER. REFUSE, AND YOU CAN ROT OUT HERE. THINK. VERY. CAREFULLY.”
The two vehicles rolled on, with their dangerous looking passengers. Jessica looked at her husband, eyes wide.
“Baby...I think this might have been a mistake.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I'm thinking you're right...but I don't know if they'll let us turn around. Don't think I can outdrive machine guns, Jess.”
“We...we still have a good amount of supplies...I'm sure we can barter. I'm sure we'll be fine,” his wife replied, almost to herself.
Frank turned slightly to look out the back of the SUV.
Ratface was still watching him.
