Year One (Chronicles of The One #1)(111)

“Purity Warriors.” Lana gripped the porch rail. “Flynn said he finally got Starr to talk a little more. The gang who killed her mother called themselves Purity Warriors, and had tattoos. Crossed swords with a P and a W under the X.”

“I know. Just like I know this Jeremiah.” Arlys handed the paper back to Chuck. “He was already stirring up calls for bloodshed back in January, in the early weeks of the Doom.”

“He’s got a rudimentary site up,” Chuck told them. “I stumbled on it while I hunted for communications. There’s more. He’s uploaded some photos—they’re pretty graphic. And he’s got one up of the tattoo you’re talking about. He calls it the Mark of the Chosen. Bat shit, man. Sick and bat shit. He claims he’s working on putting up a message board. I hacked in, and he’s got more than two hundred hits. Less than fifty individuals, so people go back, check the site again.”

“Fifty’s not many,” Arlys murmured. “But…”

“It says we’re not the only ones with power and Internet,” Chuck finished.

“We wouldn’t be the only ones appalled by the sick and the bat shit,” Arlys commented. “But…”

“Some will revel in it.” Eyes grim, Rachel nodded. “Including a handful in New Hope. Could you tell when he is, or was, posting? Where the site’s based?”

“I think he’s mobile—adds more scary because I don’t know how he could be. Still, now that I found it, I can monitor it. Everything else I’ve found, so far, is pre-Doom. It’s stuff that’s been up since before it all fell down. But if there’s one—the bat shit—there’s going to be more.”

He broke off as Max pulled up to the curb in a truck. Max got out one side, Will the other.

“I’m fine,” Lana said quickly.

“Will said you fainted.”

She aimed a frustrated look at Will. “I got a little dizzy.”

He cupped her face, studied it. “You had a vision?”

“No, not … It’s hard to explain. I think the baby did, and it somehow filtered through me.”

“You’re connected physically,” Rachel pointed out. “Your health, the baby’s. I don’t know anything about this other side of things, really, but it seems to me that connection could go there.”

“It’s not the first time,” Max concurred. “Could it harm her?”

“I’d say driving’s out.”

Appalled, Lana stared. She’d learned to love driving. “Come on!”

“I’m going to side with the doctor,” Arlys said. “You went off, Lana. You were somewhere else. I’d give a pass on driving, operating heavy equipment,” she added, trying to lighten the blow.

“You’re a terrible driver anyway.” Max kissed her forehead.

“You’ll pay for that later, but we’ve got more to worry about. Chuck?”

As Chuck handed the paper to Max, began to explain, Lana sat again, thought again. No risks, she decided. Whatever affected her, affected the baby.

And apparently vice versa.

Rachel poured out more sun tea. “Hydrate. And I want to know if you have more dizzy spells. If you have any unusual feelings, physical or otherwise. There’s no point stressing over what Chuck found. One fanatic, and a very big country.”

“That helps, but as we said, we have a handful right here who might, probably would, take up that call.”

“Most aren’t here.” Max reread the paper. “Mike and I went out to check on Rove. Just take a look. He’s pulled out, and so have the Mercers, along with Sharon Beamer, Brad Fitz, Denny Wertz.”

“That explains why we haven’t seen them around in the past few days.” Arlys nodded. “And they haven’t picked up any supplies or reported for any details. Well, it doesn’t hurt my feelings.”

“I’m glad they’re gone,” Lana said. “I’ll sleep easier knowing they are.”

“It also explains why we’re two trucks shy,” Max went on. “Twenty gallons of gas, food supplies. Weapons. That’s why we went out to check.” He ran an absent hand down Lana’s arm while he scanned the street. “Still, I imagine most would consider that loss a win against having them moving on.”

“Meanwhile, I’m going back down, see if I can find somebody else who’s back online.” Chuck pulled his fingers through his scraggly beard. “Hitting the downer button here, but figuring all the techs and hackers in the world before the Doom, and how I’m getting all but zilch on the surf?” His shoulders lifted and fell. “You gotta do the math, right? You gotta figure more than fifty percent—a lot more than fifty—wiped out in the Doom.

“Anyway.” He let that trail off, then wandered away.

“He’s right.” Max stroked his hand—comfort, reassurance—up and down Lana’s arm. “We can judge that by what we all saw getting here, and by the fact that the number of people coming in to stay or even to pass through has trickled down to nothing in the last two weeks or so.”

“It makes building and maintaining our own even more important,” Arlys put in. “Law, order, education, water, and food supplies.”