Charley hopped off a set of railway ties as they approached the covered roof to the old 30th Street Train Station. Travelling along the tracks avoided the highways littered with stalled cars and hungry scavengers. At least most of them. They never ventured far though; there was little to see west of New Philadelphia and east only held Father Frankie's, which was a no-go. She was comfortable in their little bubble.
Charley grew up in Philadelphia, but somehow found herself on the wrong side of the tracks, so to speak, when The Restoration Project made New Philadelphia their base. The Project chose a small section of the downtown core, delineated by the Schuylkill and Delaware rivers to the east and west, and the I676 underpass to the north. She was never one for tall buildings and shoulder to shoulder pedestrian traffic.
"What the hell are they doin' up there?" Righty asked, pointing to the top of a couple skyscrapers inside the walls of New Philadelphia.
"Looks like they're planting food," Charley said.
"They do know there's, like, hundreds of empty farms all around here," Righty pointed out.
"You think they want to travel outside of that?" she said, pointing to the make-shift wall built around the city. It loomed a story and a half tall and was topped with barbed wire and sharp metal spikes pointing outward. This level of security wasn't for the Baldies—they couldn't climb—it was for everyone else.
"Guess not," Righty grumbled, wiping sweat from his brow. He held the pool skimmer attached to the Baldie. "Are we gonna stand here all day then or we gonna actually get this done?"
"I'm not standing, I'm analyzing," Charley replied.
"Analyze this." He shoved the pole to Charley.
The Baldie whipped around and lunged at Charley, lashing out like a caged animal. Charley snatched the pole away from Righty but it slid between her fingers. The Baldie swiped at her with grimy fingernails, nearly reaching her until Skillet punched it in the nose. The Baldie stumbled backward, allowing Charley to firm up her grip. Once she did, she promptly handed Skillet the pole.
"You asshole!" she shouted, whacking Righty's shoulder.
Righty laughed until he caught a disapproving glare from Skillet. His smile disappeared and he cleared his throat. "So you done your analyzin' then? Think you're ready for the moment of truth?"
"We have the right guy," Charley affirmed.
She led them from the train station toward the Market Street Bridge. The road leading toward the bridge was noticeably clear of the vehicles that congested the highways. It gave Charley a better view of the checkpoint ahead. As they neared the guard station, Righty shrank behind Charley. He was always more bark than bite.
There were eight functioning checkpoints, as far as Charley could tell, constructed at choke-points around New Philadelphia. Armed soldiers monitored the checkpoints around the clock—many of them with itchy trigger fingers. They bristled at Charley and her group's approach.
"OK, remember, walk nice and slow. Don't need another scene," Charley ordered, urging Skillet and Righty forward.
She let Skillet and the Baldie lead the way. It was a half-comical push-pull as the Baldie swiped the air, aggravated from the capture, and Skillet shoved it forward. As Baldie stumbled to the checkpoint, one of the guards stepped forward to greet them. He was an older man, with close-cropped, grey hair, a wide jaw, and deep frown lines. His beady eyes never left Charley, probably because he knew what was coming next.
"Captain Bob, nice to see you again." Charley followed her greeting with a deep curtsy.
"I told you before, my name's not Captain Bob," Captain Bob said, not an ounce of levity in his voice.
YOU ARE READING
The Restoration Project
Science FictionNanobots, injected in over ninety percent of the population, were designed to boost immune systems and eradicate diseases, but when they turned on humanity, they created something far worse. Many have learned to cope with the existence of 'Baldies'...
