Jake Morrison's Arc

Chapter 37 of 54

The morning after they returned, Jake spread a torn city map on the cabin table. Sofia needed a real doctor with real equipment, and time was short. But the map showed a dozen hospitals across the mainland, and Jake had no way of knowing which one still ran. Guess wrong, and they'd burn days Sofia's baby didn't have. "We can't just drive to each one," Marcus said, wiping grease from his hands. "Every mile through those streets could kill us." Marisol worked the radio in the corner. "Then we ask," she said. She swept the dial for an hour, calling out to anyone who'd answer. Static, then a woman's voice broke through. She spoke of a walled district downtown, thick stone walls, hundreds of survivors inside. Jake leaned toward the speaker. When he asked about a doctor, the signal cut to noise. It was thin, but it was more than a guess. Jake and Marcus took the skiff back at first light. They found the walls where the woman said. A castle of gray stone rose from the dead city, banners hanging from its towers. A sign hung above iron gates: HEARTWARD ENCLAVE. Behind the walls Jake saw green rooftops, a glass hall, gardens climbing over balconies. People moved on the ramparts. Living people. Armed guards spotted them before they reached the gate. Rifles came up. "On your knees," one shouted. Jake dropped his weapon and raised his hands. Marcus did the same. The guards patted them down, then marched them through the gates into a courtyard thick with market stalls and voices. They were pushed into a hall and made to wait. A man came down the steps, broad-shouldered, a rifle slung across his back. He stopped short when he saw Jake's face. "Morrison?" The man laughed and crossed the floor in three strides. "Jake Morrison, the garbage man." Jake stared, then it landed. "Darrell." They'd hauled the same routes for two years before the world ended, riding the truck at dawn, trading jokes over coffee. Now Darrell ran a walled city. Darrell waved the guards back. "Lower those. He's mine." He gripped Jake's shoulder. "How the hell are you alive?" "Barely," Jake said. "Darrell, I need help. I've got a woman on an island, pregnant, and something's wrong with the baby. Our doctor can't fix it. I heard you had one who could." Darrell's grin faded to something steady. He nodded. "Two thousand people in here. Working power. A surgeon and full obstetric equipment." He clapped Jake's arm. "Bring her to me. We'll take care of her." Jake felt the weight drop off his chest. He finally knew where to go. But the island lay eighty miles out, and Sofia was too far along to move easy. He'd have to bring her across open water, past the sea creatures, to the one place that could save her.