The Last Bastion of the Living (The Last Bastion #1)(9)

Still frowning, she quickly dispatched a coded message to Dwayne letting him know she’d be home late. Pulling her heated oatmeal from the small oven, she shoveled the nearly tasteless food into her mouth, suddenly feeling quite nervous about the day.




*




Hurrying up the long, winding metal staircase to the elevated monorail station, Dwayne finished eating the last of his protein bar. The flavorless meal left a chalky residue in his mouth and he couldn’t wait to snag a decent cup of coffee at his office. Arriving at the station, Dwayne glanced over his shoulder at the sprawl of the city. Below, the inhabitants of The Bastion rushed about in a frenzy of activity. The morning sky was heavy with the promise of rain. The threat of storms always had the populace scurrying in preparation for the possibility of buildings leaking, power outages and flooding. A government drone wound its way through the streets broadcasting the latest news on the war against the Inferi Scourge on its screens while urging the citizens to remain diligent. Dwayne noticed that a few people stopped to watch the update, but most continued their morning routines without a second glance at the drone.

The station was off limits to civilians and only a few low ranking officers were milling around, sipping lukewarm coffee from a vending machine. The old benches, upholstered in black vinyl, were torn and cracked, revealing the padding. It was just another reminder of the slow decay of the once gleaming city.

A slight tingle alerted him to an incoming message and he quickly checked his wristlet. Entering his password, he watched a series of communiqués download. Stepping away from the other commuters, he read through the messages. Most were from the brass canceling all the meetings previously scheduled for the day. One was from his soon to be ex-wife reminding him to speak to his lawyer once he was off duty. The last was from Maria informing him she would be delayed in the evening.

“What the hell is going on with today?” he muttered.

Dwayne glanced toward the military complex that took up nearly all the southern quarter of the city. The tall steel buildings were as gray and ominous as the approaching storm, but there didn’t appear to be any unusual activity. Yet, the cancellation of all his meetings with the upper brass and even Maria’s mysterious delay didn’t sit well with him. The grind of the daily routine was one of the things Dwayne could depend on, and any changes, usually due to some unexpected occurrence, was a concern.

In this terrible world they lived in, disruptions to the carefully attended balance of the city could cause major problems. The last time all his meetings had been canceled it was due to the food riots.

His gut told him something was not right, and it took all his willpower not to rush down the steps and into the streets to find Maria.

Closing down the screen of his wristlet, Dwayne looked up to see some of the other officers staring at their own orders with perplexed expressions on their faces.

Sweat began to bead his forehead, not because of the muggy air, but because he suddenly feared that the Inferi Scourge had finally breached the walls.





Chapter 2


The narrow hallway was stiflingly hot and the smell of boiling laundry was strong and acrid. Through the open door of one of the flats, Maria caught sight of two older women stirring a large stainless steel tub on a makeshift stove. Rose Bergman waved to her while Rose Garcia scowled into the mix of soap and water. Maria always thought of the sweet couple as ‘the Roses,’ but she found it easier to call them by their last names.

“Be careful on the wall!” Ms. Bergman called out.

“Don’t tell her what to do, Rose,” Ms. Garcia snapped. “You’re always so bossy.”

“I’m showing concern for her wellbeing, Rose,” Ms. Bergman pouted.

Feeling obligated to make an appearance, Maria stepped back into the doorway and waved. “I’ll be fine, Ms. Bergman. Thank you.”

The older woman with the unruly silver curls smiled at her sweetly while Ms. Garcia scowled. The couple loved to squabble and Maria found it endearing. Both appeared to be in their sixties and wore their hair long under colorful headscarves. They worked long hours cleaning laundry for most of the people living in the building. Maria paid them in credits while others paid in food and other wares.

“We’ll have your laundry ready tonight,” Ms. Garcia informed her. “We’re running a little behind. The blackouts set us back.”

“We had to get out the propane stove,” Ms. Bergman explained.

“It’s all good. I don’t need my things until tomorrow anyway.” The pungent fumes from the soap were making her eyes water and she suppressed a small cough.

“We’ll drop it off at your flat tonight,” Ms. Bergman promised.

Pulling out her wallet, Maria fished out a few credits. “Here let me pay you now.”

“Oh, we couldn’t,” Ms. Bergman protested.

Ms. Garcia plucked the money from Maria’s hand and thrust it into one of the pockets of her heavy apron.

“Rose, we can’t!” Ms. Bergman chided her. “Not until we’re done with the job.”

“You need your pills,” Ms. Garcia said, her heavily sweating face set with determination. She continued to stir the laundry, ignoring her partner.

“It’s fine. Really.” Maria slipped out of the doorway. “You get your pills and I’ll see you tonight.”