The Nightworld - Jack Blaine [60]
I hope that what we created here will not end with me. I have hope for you, stranger, brother, sister, human. Perhaps one day the sun will shine again.
Robert Langley
We did what he said. We gave each other the injections, and we gave one to Tank too. It’s been two weeks, and no sign of stiffness. No cramps. I think we’ll be okay.
The factories Robert mentioned are different areas in the colony. They’ve got a hydroponic farm, and a geothermal energy plant, and chickens and a trout farm and a science lab. Everything they needed to survive is here, and we can run most of it well enough to live for a long time. There’s light, and heat, and hot and cold running water, and enough food. There’s just one thing missing: people.
We figured out that first day why Tank was so frantic to get down here. When he ran into the second room, he immediately went to a wall of coat hooks where it looks like colonists hung their jackets and sweaters before they ate in the common dining hall. There was one particular jacket there that he leaped up to get. When I took it from him, my heart broke. It was an army jacket. And on the pocket was a name patch embroidered with the word TINY. I never found Charlie’s name in the death rolls later, but I felt at that moment that he was gone. I sure hope I’m wrong.
I still haven’t figured out how Charlie’s stepdad knew Robert Langley; he did work for a drug company, but I don’t know if that’s the connection. I read all of the files I could find, and it seems like this Langley guy had been setting up this place for a long time. I don’t know if he knew what was going to go wrong with the world—he just knew something was going to go wrong. He got investments from people all over the place, and in return he promised them a place in the colony. He sent them word to come when the darkness first fell, and they all came, from the sounds of it. They all came and they all died.
Lara and I spend our days tending to what needs tending, and playing with Tank, and watching what’s happening aboveground on closed-circuit televisions. They’re connected to infrared night-vision cameras, so we can see clearly what’s out there. We’ve seen murders occur on them, watched people turn on each other for nothing more than a coat. We’re afraid to let adults know we’re down here, so if they come into view we usually just watch to make sure they aren’t trying to get into the compound. But the children—that’s a different story. If they wander into the black-and-white vision of the cameras, and they look like they’re alone, with no adults, we dart outside and fetch them in. So far we’ve brought in nine: two girls and seven boys. All of them tell us stories about how their parents have been killed. For a jacket. For a scrap of bread.
The children are innocent. They haven’t turned into monsters yet who would kill for a jacket. There’s still hope for them. At least that’s what Lara says. Most of the time I think she’s right, but sometimes, I watch all the children at dinner, laughing and yelling, and something makes me think of an island, where little boys were stranded, and their true nature was revealed.
So far we’ve been lucky down here. Everything seems to be working the way it’s supposed to, and all of the children are healthy. We’ve inoculated all of them. There’s still enough vaccine for many more. So far, no government men have stormed our little castle underground, though the crackle of static often wakes me, heart racing, from my sleep. It always takes me a second or two to realize the sound is only inside my head.
I keep the guns oiled and ready.
“Are you ever coming out of there? I’ve got some hot cocoa for us, and the fire is going.” Lara leans against the door of the lab. Tank is at her side, as he always is now. I look up at her and smile. She’s so beautiful, and I’m so lucky.
“I’ll be right out. I just