DAY 26: May 4th, Tuesday
I opened my eyes.
My head was pounding, feeling like I only slept for a couple of hours, my body ached all over, and I bolted awake. I saw the pristine white walls, the antiseptic smell that clung to the air, the sharp pings of the EKG machine resounding not far from me, and the unfamiliarity of where I was. Suddenly, red signals flashed in my mind, and I quickly sat up.
There was a handcuff attached to the bed rails wrapped around my right wrist. I looked down, wearing nothing except a Johnny gown that went all the way to my ankles and an IV attached to the back of my left hand. I was in the hospital.
I pulled the IV off of me, and the EKG machine started beeping louder like a screaming banshee. With my ears still getting used to working again after who knew how long I had been out, it hurt like tiny insects swarming my insides.
With my free hand, I reached for the cord with its little red button at the end, trying to call for a nurse and maybe get the damned machine turned off. How long had I been out? I looked out of the windows with the blinds half-closed. It still seemed to be mid-day, the sun now out and shining rather than cloudy, but I went into the State Capitol late in the afternoon.
Luke and Logan. Fuck, they must be worried sick. If I had been out for long, they're stuck in this neighborhood, if they're stupid enough to stay and wait for me. I hoped they had the common sense to go back to the construction site. They're safer there.
I gave up looking for the cord. I couldn't find it anywhere, and I focused my attention on the cuffs instead. It was hard to break out of it without a key, and I realized I'm stuck. Well, unless I popped off the bed rails, then I could move around the room. But lugging that massive thing around would only slow me down if I ever want to get out of here.
And I didn't have any clothes. I doubted I'd get that far out the front door. Still, it didn't hurt to try. I leaned over the side, trying to find the latch to take the bed rails off its spokes. And hell, I could use it as a weapon! It felt sturdy and solid enough to take someone out with one hit. Then again, it was heavy, so my attacks would be slower. Well, I got to work with what little I had.
My mind was spinning with all these escape plans and trying to cover my ears from the machine's constant ringing when I failed to notice someone else was in the room.
"Good. You're finally awake. That took you long enough," a voice groaned from the far end of the room.
I looked over, startled. Clemons rose up from the armchair propped at the corner next to the bathroom. He strode toward the EKG machine and shut the noise off, cutting the room into silence. Dean Clemons had traded his combat uniform to something more casual: black pants, a nice tight blue polo shirt, and some Banana Republic gray bomber jacket.
Clemons looked like your typical everyday neighbor who probably worked a nine-to-five job in the big city on the outside, one who would come home late at night in quiet suburbia for a cold beer in his Lazy-o-boy recliner. But he was built like an athlete, trained all his life coming from a long line of a distinguished military family that went all the way back to the revolutionary days. That's how old Clemons's legacy was, a list of captains, generals, politicians, and even an astronaut. Once he put on a uniform, his entire demeanor changed, intimidating and formidable. In civilian clothing, he was just Uncle Dean to me, a good man to talk and listen to, which was probably why he dressed up like this to get me to relax, a wolf in a sheep's clothing.
Clemons took his job seriously. He's following in his family's footsteps, becoming a three-star general at forty-two, the third highest-ranking officer in the army, which was rare to get for his age (and he's only three years older than my father). I had a sneaking suspicion that it had more to do with many people higher up the chain who died because of the plague.
"Sorry about that," he said. At first, I thought he meant the annoying machine, but I followed where he was pointing at...my handcuffs. "Just a little precaution," he added.
"A precaution?" I asked.
Clemons chuckled. "Here's the thing. I'm surrounded by over eight thousand soldiers who have months, even years, under their training belt. And yet here you are, sneaking into a heavily guarded safe zone under my men's noses until it was too late and avoided detection for over a week. Then, you snuck into a more heavily guarded building without anyone noticing until it was too late. You traversed across a heavily infested area, a feat many of my men can't even do. You beat the shit out of one of my soldiers, defeated an entire squad in the dead of night from a previous encounter, and survived a bullet and a MOAB, so yes, a precaution. Who knows what will happen if we don't have that on you and no one's around to watch over you. Be glad I am here, and you don't have to plan an escape. You're safe."
"Are you sure?" I looked at the door, which was closed. Though, at the gap underneath, I could see two shadows guarding beyond. Clemons didn't come here alone.
"If you're noting going to do anything stupid, my men will leave you alone."
I bit my lip and lowered my head. I had no words.
"Brendan Watts. It's been a long time, hasn't it? Still, you are just as reckless as the last time I remembered. Irresponsible. Naive. Impulsive. Dangerous. You could have died, or seriously injured, maybe even killed someone, and you did."
I looked up and held my breath. "The woman..."
Clemons snorted, stifling a laugh. "She's fine. Rattled off and maybe needing a mental health day, but she's fine. That wasn't nice what you did, and that shit you pulled almost killed her. No, I'm talking about Corporal Lampp."
Oh. "I didn't kill him."
"A lot of my men think you did. Then who?"
I thought for a moment, but I didn't want to tell him a kid did him in. "It's self-defense."
"By your hand?"
I shook my head. "Trust me. It's self-defense. And I apologize to the woman. I was so focused on getting into the building, and I just didn't—"
"Think?" Clemons finished for me. "There's a lot of that going on."
I kept my mouth shut.
Clemons looked at me up and down for a second, trying to gauge whether to press on it further. Fortunately, he didn't. "So, you came all this way from New York? Columbia, right?"
"Yeah."
"Damn."
"Yeah."
"How on earth did you find me here? Wait, you didn't go to West Point, did you?"
I shrugged.
"Oh, that makes sense. You used the river instead of going out to the sea. The coast guard will have you within hours if you do. Instead, you came all this way from there?"
I shrugged again.
"You searched my home, found out I wasn't there, but you figured out I'll be here. Shut up."
I didn't say anything.
Clemons sighed, then said, "You were looking for me."
"Yes."
"Well, fuck. I gotta hand it to you for effort and dedication. Foolhardy, a bit naive but conceivable. Frankly, I would have gone west."
I narrowed my gaze. "Would it help us if we did?"
Clemons scoffed. "You'd be killed on the spot. General Donahue ordered a shoot-to-kill on-site if anyone tries to leave the Red Zone. Be glad you didn't. This brings me to why you're here. You think I'm going to help you, didn't you?"
I paused, and a smile crept on my lips. "You already are, and if you haven't, you're going to, Lieutenant-General."
Clemons let out a smile, too, getting wider. "Aren't you an entitled little runt? You're going to use me then."
"I figured you owed my dad some debts." I wanted to beat my head to shut me up. I am digging another grave again.
"That's true."
"I thought that friendships like that don't come with a cost, so I went up here to see it for myself."
"That...is also true." Clemons sighed and slowly shook his head as he walked toward me. I didn't know if he was amused or offended. Then, he added, "Hm. Yeah, I see it now. You are John's boy through and through. Sometimes, I can't tell the difference. He trained you well. It's a shame you're going for that science shit—"
"Biology."
"Yeah. Science shit. You could have been a great soldier."
"Not my thing, uncle."
"Like I said. It's a shame."
I raised my cuffed hands, jangling from each movement against the metal bed rails. "Uh, little help?"
Clemons walked around the bed, pulling out a thin set of keys from his pocket. "Well, we might be staring at the end of the world, boy, so you might want to switch your career path. I'm a general now, see, so I can give you a good letter of rec." He unlocked the cuffs, and I instinctively reached for my freed wrist, rotating it around and massaging it.
"Better?"
I nodded. I tried moving close to the side, but a numbing pain gripped my wounded leg, now bandaged neatly.
"I could use someone like you with your particular set of skills. A little improvement here and there, a little training, then you'd be one of the capable ones."
"Science still saves lives," I said.
"True." Clemons frowned. "Then again, that shit takes years. A soldier deals with problems in seconds. Easy. Done."
"By killing."
"It worked throughout history so far."
"Not always." I decided to change the subject. "How long was I out?" I asked.
"Two days."
"That bad?" I tried moving my leg again, but it hurt too much to push it over the bed's edge.
Clemons gently put his hands on my leg to stop me from moving. He then walked to the side table, where he poured a glass of water from a pitcher. He then gave the cup to me. I didn't realize how thirsty it was until I could smell the water before it ever entered my mouth, felt how good the cold water cascaded down my throat. I drank the entire cup.
"The bullet went through clean, and the doctors said there are no major arteries severed, but you still lost a lot of blood," Clemons said. "You'd be able to walk properly again in about a week or two, but you're gonna have to use either a wheelchair or the crutches."
"Thanks for patching me up."
"Tell that to the doctors, not me. But I promised your father that I'll protect you, especially when you're on this side of the country, far from home. If I don't, he'll hunt me down, and he will."
I raised my eyebrows. "You...you talked to him?"
"Of course! We're the army." Clemons sat at the end of the bed, close to my feet. I could feel the tip of the holster pressed against my toes. So, he didn't enter the room unarmed, I thought. Typical. "A few days ago, I receive word from him that you're heading upriver. I told a few men I trust to watch out for you out on the southern gates, thought that maybe you'd be in line waiting to get inside."
My stomach twisted. "Oh."
"You could've just walked up the gate. Instead, you did...that." He pointed at my wounded leg. "You overthink too much."
"I can't help it after what I'd seen, especially after New York," I said.
Clemons fiddled with his wedding ring on his left hand, and his gaze darted to the window. "Ah. I see."
It was strange yet wistful to think that Clemons still had his wedding ring on after Stella died all those years ago. I was young then, but I remembered how he loved her so much. Stella and Clemons never had children, but they always treated me like their own.
"If it makes you feel better, Bren, I had no hand in the decision that went with that. That shit's above my pay grade."
"Order came from the Oval Office?"
Clemons nodded glumly. "From the start, and now we're reaping what we sow, most of them rotten."
Another pause. I didn't know how long the silence clung in the room, but I cleared my throat, breaking his blank stare. "So, can I call..."
"Of course." Clemons stopped fidgeting his ring and clearing his throat, too. "I'll get you a secure line to Portland. I'll let the SZ there to let your parents know."
My heart skipped a beat. "SZ?"
"Don't worry. Last I checked, there's no outbreak in Oregon yet. Most of the west coast are still holding on, plague-free, and hopefully, that stays true for a very long time. The president ordered mandatory Safe-Zones in every major city across the country. There's about three hundred built up right now. I'll get you that call."
"Thank you."
"Well, don't thank me yet."
"Why?"
"You're still in big trouble, young man. You do know that, right?"
I closed my eyes, trying to breathe through my nose. "Yeah. I'll take full responsibility."
Clemons went quiet. He wasn't expecting that. "Oh?"
"I threatened and tortured a man in a uniform. I probably collected many felony charges, attacked soldiers, broke a ton of protocol, and impersonated a soldier many times. I'll take responsibility for all of it, even if I had a good reason."
"And the reason is?"
I huffed. "It doesn't take a genius to see what's happening outside the walls. I need to do them to survive and keep my friends safe. I only want one condition in return."
Clemons shook his head, hiding a smile. "That's not how punishments work, boy."
I didn't care. "Help my group get home. I'll stay here and face any consequences your superiors deemed appropriate or whatever you think is appropriate. I won't argue."
"How noble."
"I'm not doing it to be noble. I'm taking accountability. I'm confessing that I did all of these crimes, and yes, I'll even admit to killing a soldier if it means my friends get to go back home. I acted alone."
"Most of what you did are considered federal crimes, and they all involve prison. Under martial law, however, results in severe punishment. The one I have to order."
"How severe?"
"Death."
I gulped, feeling a rumble at the pit of my stomach. Now, how the hell am I going to get out of that? Could I even get out of it? Tricky.
Clemons smiled. "You're thinking about how you'll get out of it, don't you?"
"No." I pressed my lips together, forcing myself not to dart away from his gaze.
I blinked. Shit.
"Bullshit."
"I'm not," I said, running my hands through my hair. "I'll take it. I swear."
"Gonna pinky swear?"
Now I knew he was trolling. I rolled my eyes, and I reached for my pillow, wanting to throw it at him, but I caught myself. Better to be in his good graces, no matter how minuscule I'd get it. "Fine. If I have to," I said, sticking out my pinky finger.
Clemons pushed my hand away. "Bah, don't be so dramatic, boy. Fuck, you're really like your dad. Hero complex and all that shit, like staring on a mirror." Clemons shook his head and laughed. "Well, it's a good thing you're a minor then."
"What's that got to do with anything?"
"Different set of laws for a start, even in martial law."
"But I'll turn eighteen..."
"Next year. I remember. I convinced my peers and my superiors to turn the other cheek, letting them know that you're my nephew, who I thought didn't survive the initial outbreak. One scientist wants to document your account of Ground Zero for further studies, trying to tract the epidemiology of the virus."
"They think it originated in New York?"
Clemons nodded. "They're now calling it Ground Zero."
"Shouldn't have dropped a bomb, then," I mumbled out without thinking.
Clemons chose to ignore it. "Remember this, Bren. No one knows who you are aside from the squad you encountered, and I got them to shut their mouths about it or get court-martialed."
I stared at him blankly. My brain froze over for what felt like ten seconds, mouth agape as I tried to form words. "How—how did you...?"
"Unimportant. Do you forget I'm a general of the army? My word here is the law. We are in a state of emergency. We have bigger fish to fry than some teenagers who got lucky and snuck into the walls when my soldiers got lazy. Actually, you helped us cover our weaknesses, so thank you."
"I feel a but coming."
"Yes. Though I may have covered your ass off this matter, others believe you don't deserve it."
"You mean Captain Ramos."
"Among others. He's a great soldier, Bren."
"Who solicits sex on women in exchange for protection. Is that a definition of a decent soldier?"
"If I can do anything about it..."
"Then do something. You're a general."
"To an extent. There are still many people above me, and many of them have turned a blind eye to the racket if it means keeping the soldiers in check. Since everything started, we had many desertions, and if this keeps going, Albany will be left unprotected."
"And you think this is a solution? To make the soldiers do whatever they want?"
"If it keeps them in line, then we keep the peace. It's fragile enough." Clemons got up from the bed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't expect you to understand, Bren. I'll see what I can do for your friends, that I have the power to do. In the meantime, rest. They're waiting for you in the apartment."
My mouth hung open again, stunned. "The apartment? What?"
Clemons nodded. "We arrested your two friends downtown, trying to hide in the Cathedral of All Saints. A priest found them sleeping between the pews. The big guy tried to fight back."
Logan. "But they're okay? They're not hurt?" I asked, stifling the panic bubbling up my throat.
"Come on now, no one got shot. I was there to make sure they were detained unharmed."
"Detained?"
"Poor choice of words. They're fine. They have a good place to stay now and some warm food. They just need to have a health check to make sure no one is infected, including you. We got them to tell us where you all were hiding, so we went there and got the others. Clever hiding spot. I'm impressed. But we're confiscating every weapon, food, and supplies you all have. You are now part of the Albany SZ. Consider it your contribution to the entire city."
"I'm not walking around this city unarmed. A horde is coming."
"Is that what they're calling it? A horde? Sounds fascinatingly morbid."
"A lot of infected are heading here, uncle."
"We've been holding them back so far with air support."
"Until you can't. I've seen their numbers when we're heading up the river. There's thousands of them."
"Please, Bren. Don't argue with me on this."
"I'm not arguing. I'm asking."
"You're still a civilian, and you are not a soldier. Look, you're safe now, and in here, we will follow General Donahue's laws and mine. That's final. You can think of it as payment for sweeping your punishment under the rug."
I rubbed the back of my neck. I had no time to bullshit all of this, so I told him, "One way or the other, uncle, you know I'll get one after I get out of here. Then you'll confiscate it, and then I'll have to find another one again, and on and on. It'll save us a lot of time if you just hand the one you have on your belt right now. You don't have to treat me with kid gloves on. As you said, I'm like my father."
Clemons became suddenly still, eyebrows raised. A second passed, and he started laughing. "Well, you're right about one thing, boy." He reached down to his holster and pulled out a SIG Sauer M17. He placed it on my lap, including the holster. "I can trust you with this?" He asked.
"I won't shoot anyone," I said, "as long as they don't bother me."
"Fair enough. Clemons patted my knee before walking toward the door. "Now, I have to go to work. Promise me this, Bren. Don't do anything reckless, alright? The next time, I might not be able to get you out of it, understand? Take care of Betty for me."
I looked at the gun. "Betty?"
"I had that gun with me for four years every day. As a symbol of my trust, you'll use it responsibly. Do I have to show you how the thing works or—?"
"No, I got it." I touched the gun, wrapping my fingers gently around the grip, and then put it underneath my pillow. From the corner of my eye, I saw Clemons smiled. "Thank you."
"Don't shoot Captain Ramos."
I narrowed my gaze. "Why would I do that?"
"Because he shot you. I assume you want payback?"
"No." Maybe. Yes. No. Maybe.
"Uh-huh." Clemons looked at me for a second longer. "Well, I better let your friends know you're awake. I'll send one of my men to the apartment and drive them here."
"Hey, Uncle?"
Clemons was halfway up the door when he stopped. "What?"
"If I see something that is not right, I'm not going to stop and turn a blind eye. I just want to give you a heads up."
Clemons thought about it for a moment, then heaved a sigh. "John would say the same thing, you know?" He left the room without looking back. Though, I could still hear him say, "Damn Wattses," before the door clicked shut.