A Hard Rain: Book Two Of The Shift Trilogy

Chapter 12

Fredericksburg, Virginia

Fredericksburg Union

January 2013

All evening Rita tried to sleep but visions kept interrupting her. Being surrounded by pathetic souls in g-strings was disturbing. Rita knew that Dave Richardson didn't allow outright slavery, but these women, these girls were enslaved never-the-less. They found themselves selling their bodies either out of dire hunger, debt, or most likely from an addiction to alcohol.

The last one, Rita understood all too well. A little over nineteen years ago she herself had been teetering close to prostitution, sleeping with men who paid for her drinks. Of course, there was an array of drugs available back then, and she loved them all, but she always went back to the booze. Heroin and cocaine had virtually disappeared from the region after the Shift, but people's addiction remained. Even without a calamity, there were a percentage of people like herself who were just prone to addiction. After something as big as the Shift, nobody left alive came out unscathed.

Rita tried not to dwell on last night. Between the smell of alcohol and the pathetic looks on the faces of the girls shrouded by inebriation and aging Mascara, she was content to head back to their hotel with Akil straight afterwards. Akil was gentlemanly enough not to ogle. She appreciated how Chris, the young lieutenant and the gunnery sergeant were conscientious enough to forbid any of his Vicious Rabbits in engaging in any illicit exchanges beyond the occasional lap dance. Rita noticed how Chris declined Dave's generous offer of a young lady he placed on the Captain's lap. Visibly uncomfortable, Chris stood up and politely, even chivalrously, sent the girl on her way with a few Byrds in her string for nothing in return. The display of humility on the captain's face was reassuring. Some people maintained their manners even after civilization collapsed.

The twenty-five mile trek from Fredericksburg to the port at Dahlgren Naval Warfare Research Center took less than an hour thanks to a resurrected railway, one of Obsidian Corp's few beneficial byproducts. Cattle cars glided along the relatively smooth rails, tugged by an old eighteen-wheeler cab whose wheels had been converted to fit on the rails. It wasn't as reliable as the steam engine that ran from Charlottesville to Orange, nor were the cars as comfortable, but it was better than riding the distance on bicycle, something they were going to be doing a lot of soon enough. Rita had a feeling that this was going to be the last smooth ride she was going to experience for the foreseeable future, and that was if she made it out.

"Calm down, girl. Have a little faith."

"What was that, Sugar?" Akil inquired.

The husband and wife huddled together inside the cattle car more for mutual warmth than for affection as did several of the Vicious Rabbits and Saints. The olive drab wool blankets in the cars weren't particularly effective and the MOLLE gear and white ponchos they wore didn't insulate them any better. The Fredericksburg Union hadn't bothered to include a formal passenger car yet. Sailors heading to and returning from port suffered in the elements like the fish and spoils from the cities they hauled. The clouds were overcast again, meaning a potential for snow.

"Nothing, mi Coriño, just talking to myself."

"Ah, so it wasn't Gaia this time."

"No, no Gaia visions today." Something else was interrupting her sleep last night. It wasn't Gaia. This was different. She was dreaming in the past again, back when the world was sane, yet it wasn't exactly how she remembered it. Her sleep was also interrupted by Akil's constant blanket thievery. If she wasn't so taken by him, she would have slept in a separate bed.

Rita was beginning to have some real reservations about going along on the trip, which was a shame, because she called in a lot of favors to go. If only Gaia was the type of being who understood that humans tended to lose their nerve and needed constant handholding and reassurance.