Summer Lane - State of Rebellion

“This way,” Angela announces, strapping a belt with a holstered gun around her waist. “It’s not far.”

I follow her outside, suddenly overwhelmed with fatigue. The meeting with the militia commanders really tired me out. Add to that four days of hiking for our lives through the wilderness and I’m ready to take a weeklong nap.

We cut across the main entrance to the camp, bypassing the old gift shop and general store. A tan colored building surrounded by a white fence sits here. A large red cross is painted across the door.

“Here we are,” Angela announces.

We approach the front door, which is propped open with a rock. Inside, everything is white and sterile. Pictures of flowers and tropical islands dot the walls. I place my hand on the front counter to keep my balance.

I haven’t been exposed to anything so startling clean in almost a year.

It’s enough to make you dizzy.

“Cassidy, I thought you might be stopping by.” Desmond — the field medic — steps out of the back room, looking as disheveled as ever. But at least he’s cheerful. “Let’s get you in here and check you out in a real medical setting.”

I swallow and enter a room with an examination table. White fluorescent lights blind me as I sit down, and I find myself staring at the ceiling like a moth drawn to a flame.

“You’re using electricity,” I state numbly.

“Yes, like I said before, we have our own generators,” Angela says, taking a seat in a chair in the corner. “We also have a sizable industrial battery storage and hydroelectric generators. It gives us light, among other things. And light is very convenient for our doctors. They don’t want to be stitching up wounds in the dark, after all.”

I don’t answer. I’m overwhelmed by the sounds of technology.

A clock ticks on the wall.

The light bulbs on the ceiling are buzzing softly.

An intercom unit on the wall squawks as a medical officer calls to Desmond.

“Take a deep breath and soak it in slowly,” Desmond advises, grinning wryly. “I understand, believe me.” He has me lie down on the table and close my eyes, starting his exam. “When I first came here, I’d been living like a wild savage for months in the mountains. I forgot what artificial light and ticking clocks sounded like, you know?”

I do know.

After a lengthy exam and another painful scrubbing procedure to keep the wound clean, Desmond announces, “I’m done. You’ll be fine.” He claps me on the back. I notice for the first time that he’s got beads and feathers threaded through his crazy long hair. “Like I said, you’re lucky.”

“Maybe,” I mutter.

I ease myself off the table.

“Do you know where to find the barracks?” Angela asks, watching me closely.

“East side of the meadow.”

“Right. Do you need any help getting over there?”

I shrug. She looks at Desmond. He nods.

“Take the jeep,” she says, standing up. “I’ll see you later, Cassidy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Desmond rifles through a drawer, taking out a keychain.

“Let’s go, kiddo,” he says, walking me through the medical building. There are a few other militiamen waiting in a large room crammed with cheap metal chairs.

A waiting room? Some things never change.

Around the back of the building, an old jeep with a red cross painted on the door is parked near the rear exit. Desmond climbs in. I pull myself onto the passenger seat as he starts the engine.

“You got to check out the gift shop later, kiddo,” Desmond says, driving towards the meadow. “They’ve got card games, refrigerator magnets. I think they’ve even got gummy bears.”

“ Gummy bears?”

“Yeah. You know. Colorful. Edible. Gummy .”

“I know what they are.”

“Thank God. Imagine a kid that didn’t know what a gummy bear was.”

I roll my eyes, chuckling.

“How do they get their hands on this kind of stuff?” I ask.

“Whatever was left when the EMP hit is what they trade people for.” Desmond takes the right hand turn in the fork. “It’s real popular with the kids. They like toys, you know? Besides, running a gift shop kind of makes people feel like they’re living in a real community. They swap stuff back and forth for all kinds of items.”

“It is real,” I say. “It’s just…different.”

He doesn’t reply.

He drops me off at the meadow. I thank him for his help, then watch our resident hippie drive off in the jeep, hanging one arm out the window. Carefree — or so it seems. I turn and walk towards the women’s barracks. Women of all ages are milling around the front steps of the small buildings. Laundry is hanging out to dry on tree branches.

I spot a familiar face from the Freedom Fighters and ask her if she’s seen Sophia. “Yeah, she’s in Bear Paw,” she says.

“Thanks.”

I head towards a cabin on the edge of the premises. Sophia is sitting cross-legged in the doorway, smiling serenely. “You were gone a long time,” she says. “What happened?”

“Dad took us to meet the militia commanders,” I reply.

“And?”

“And that’s pretty much it. There are six of them, counting Chris.”

“Are they friendly?”

“They’re okay.” I walk inside the cabin. Wooden bunk beds line each wall. Two sinks are pressed against the far end of the building, and there are two doors. One contains a shower. The other contains a toilet. “Do we have running water?”

“Yes.” Sophia grins. “It’s cold, but it’s great.”

“Who else is staying in our barracks?”

“You mean in Bear Paw?” she shrugs. “I don’t know. This was the only empty one left. Isabel is staying with the Youngs in a separate cabin.”

“Good.” I dump my backpack onto an unclaimed bottom mattress. “I guess we should settle in then.”

“I guess.”

I sit on the mattress, closing my eyes.

It’s time to rest.

I end up oversleeping.

Like, a lot.

I simply plop back onto the plastic coated mattress and close my eyes, shutting out the world around me. I’m too exhausted to dream. I rest peacefully, waking only when Sophia nudges my shoulder.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” she says. “Get up. Breakfast.”

I blink rapidly, shooting straight up and hitting my head on the top bunk. The wound in my side protests the sudden movement. I wince.

“Ouch!” I roll out of bed, rubbing the sore spot on top of my scalp, the stitches on my side. “That hurt.”

“Uh, huh.”

I unzip my backpack, rubbing my eyes. “Did anything happen while I was out?”

“Nope. Nobody’s in this cabin but you and me.” Sophia glances around the room, then wrinkles her nose. “You need to shower,” she says, tossing me a towel.

“Subtle hint?” I ask.

“Not that subtle. It’s been a week at least,” she grins.

“Okay, okay. I’ll shower.”

“I went out last night and checked out the camp while you were sleeping. I got these.” Sophia gestures to two stacks of neatly folded clothes on one of the empty bunks. “Clothes and shoes. There’s a supply shack up the road from the general store. I traded some ammo for this.”

“You traded ammo ?” I exclaim. “Sophia, we need every bullet. You can’t just go around giving it away.”

“I didn’t give it away. I traded it. Besides, Cassidy. We need these. You know that.”

I sigh, grabbing one of the stacks.

“Yeah, I know.” I head to the bathroom, turning the faucet. Water sprays from the nozzle head, ice cold and clean. I shiver and strip down, piling my gross clothes on the tile floor.