Jessa Ch. 15

She pretended not to realize that he was getting her away from the car and any danger deep-sixing it might present. He was trying, she could too. She obediently found a spot on the shoreline where she could kneel on a rock and fill the canteens. Even as she carefully removed the potable tablets from the waterproof wrap about the canteens, she wondered to herself just how much lake water she had swallowed in her years of swimming, all without so much as a stomach cramp. But she was compliant Jessa, now, determined to keep earning Torah's respect. Not blindly obedient, she told herself sternly as she walked back to where the men were catching their breath. Just respectful. Like teammates are. She even smiled at him as she handed him a canteen. He cocked an eyebrow at her in curiosity. Maybe he didn't know absolutely everything that went through her mind, she thought as she turned away with a secret smile.

She was immediately disappointed to realize there were only two backpacks, but as Torah shrugged into his, he put a hand on her shoulder. "You really are our navigator now. We didn't dare use GPS in the car or with the phone."

"But how did you find the lake?"

"I saw it in the moonlight when we came over that last ridge. From here, it's up to you. Get us to Montpellier. Avoid roads, open fields, rivers. You can do all that, right?"

Jessa didn't meet his gaze. "Of course," she said, looking back at the lake, hoping she could place it on a memorized map. If only her brain had a zoom function the way internet graphics so often did. She glanced back up at the moon, then the big dipper, tracing the path to where the North Star should be. The brightness of the moon was drowning it out, but she had a good enough idea to get her started on a course. She set out back down the rutted trail, looking for a break in the trees. The men followed her without question. She hoped that was a good thing.

****

It was two days of walking, evasive maneuvering and dehydrated 'meals' before they came in sight of the city that had been Montpellier. There hadn't, exactly, been irrefutable evidence that Special Forces were out looking for them. But then, neither should Special Forces patrols have been so close to the mosquito-infested coast. And as they ate yet another freeze-dried meal and watched the sun set, they could also see an occasional vehicle entering or leaving what should have been an abandoned city. Further, there was the dim but unmistakable glow of powered lighting to be seen from their vantage point, at least until the bright moon rose.

"What now?" Jessa asked softly, relieved that her astro-navigational skills had gotten them this far.

"I'm thinking we need one of those jeeps," Erich said nonchalantly.

"Land Rovers," Torah corrected absent-mindedly. He had binoculars to his eyes, studying the city.

"You say tomato..." Erich muttered with a shrug as Jessa's head whipped around to stare at him. "What! I can't listen to old music once in a while?" he protested.

"Tamatoh," she intoned.

Torah pulled the binoculars away and glared at them both. "Trying to strategize here," he complained. Erich and Jessa both fell silent, mostly because they had nothing more to offer than out of contriteness. After a moment, Torah's shoulders sagged, and Jessa knew immediately it was because he'd come up with a plan but didn't like it.

"Okay," he said. "We requisition one of the Land Rovers. We get into town, as far as we can without notice, then you get to the computer center," he told Erich.

"What?" Jessa exclaimed. "Why him? Why not me?"

"You're staying here."

Jessa leapt to her feet, then drew a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "Remember how you guys said the Council would give Agents more information, so they could understand the orders they're given? Well, I need that 'more information' now."

It was hard to tell, since the moon hadn't risen yet, but she thought she saw a flash of the angry Torah. Even considered taking a step back. He definitely stiffened, but then he too drew a calming breath. Jessa sat back down slowly. Erich was watching them closely, but giving no hint of what he was thinking.

Torah gathered himself. "One. There are no women down there. This is strictly a military outpost. Whatever you may think of your skills, you cannot pass for a man. Two. We have it on good authority from Jacq that this outpost has been ordered to search for us, and while they may not expect to find us in their midst, they can reasonably be expected to recognize us on sight."

"But..."

Torah held up a finger. "Three. Erich knows the computer system and has the uncanny ability to hide in plain sight."

"Especially when it comes to raises, promotions..." the Agent interjected.

Torah ignored him. "And four. If we don't make it out..."

"Then I can help you," Jessa exclaimed excitedly.

"No!" Torah almost shouted. "If we don't make it out, you take yourself, and my babies," he pointed at her belly, "and you get them the hell out of here. All the way to North America if you need to."

"But it's only been a couple of days," she protested. "We can't possibly know if I'm pregnant..."

He whipped a finger into the air to silence her protest, but it was Erich who spoke. "Five. Drau may be down there. We still don't know what his role is in all this. Or what he told Special Forces. There may be an order out to kill you on sight, for all we know."

Jessa stared at him. Maybe this 'give me the whole picture' approach wasn't all it was cracked up to be. She drew a slow, deep, centering breath. "Fine. You don't want me in the city. You want me where I'm safe. I want me somewhere I can be of help. Be of real help. Not just filling canteens." Torah rolled his eyes and she glared at him. He raised his hands in surrender, though the set of his jaw said he would still brook no argument.

"I want to be out there," she said, pointing toward the sea with her chin.

Torah's brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

"On the water. In the water. The whole idea of coming here was to get a boat to take to Italy. Right?"

His jaw worked. He had never actually said that to her or to Erich for that matter, though he knew Erich had figured it out, and now it was clear that she had, too. She pressed on. "This isn't like up north where you can just find a boat that's being used for fishing and know it's seaworthy. Nobody is fishing down here. No one is taking the risk, immunizations or no. What you're seeing in the harbor," she waved, though it was too dark to see anything that far away, now, "is a few masts from sunken boats."

"Ships," Erich contributed helpfully.

"Whatever. The only thing you are going to find that has a chance of making it to Italy at this point is something that was sitting in drydock. Or maybe something that has been recently pulled out of dry dock. Or even recently been built," she added ominously. "I can find that for you while you find out what you can in the city. You don't make it out," she argued, "I will have found the means to get myself to safety, just like you said. The seawall is well south of the city. Even if they are exploring for art and antiquities in the Mediterranean using Montpellier as their base, it's not like the entire Security Forces are going to be stationed on the sea wall. They're going to be in the city. Where you are."

Erich snickered. "Give in, Torah. She has you by the balls. What do you and I know about ships?"

He glowered. "First off, the sea wall has long since disappeared under the rising waters. Second, any dry docks would now be underwater, too."

"Then what did you expect to find here?" Jessa demanded.

He suddenly gazed off into the darkening distance. "Inspiration."

"Oh, oh," Erich commented. "That's what he always says right before he pulls some ludicrous scheme out of his hat."

Torah exhaled slowly. "Look. We can't drive over the alps and through the Apennines on a tank of gas, never mind an electric battery. We sure as hell can't hike it this time of year. The French coast and across the water makes the most sense. I'm just not exactly sure yet how we're going to cross that water. And I definitely wasn't counting on running into security forces here of all places."

"Where's Hannibal and his elephants when you need him?" Erich muttered, swiftly burying the remains of their meal.

"Then let me work on the inspiration part while you two find out whatever you can in Montpellier," Jessa argued. Torah scowled, still gazing off into the distance. "Look, it's obvious that the Special Forces are hanging out in the north end of town, no doubt because the ground is higher there. From their movements, their main traffic is to the east, up the valley towards Nimes and Avignon, maybe around to Marseille. I skirt around on the west side of town, see if I can find your inspiration, see how close in the sea has risen and we meet up somewhere in the southwest corner. Then we compare notes." She stared defiantly at Torah. "I think I've proven myself quite capable of finding my way safely through city ruins."

"Southwest corner of what?" he demanded. "It is - or was - a damn big city."

"You never seem to have any trouble finding me," she pointed out, glaring at him.

"We can argue all night, or we can move in now," Erich interjected. "Frankly, I've got a craving for some real food, and maybe even a cold beer, so can we get going?" Torah growled deep in his throat but got to his feet.

****

Jessa was absent-mindedly chewing on an energy bar, under a bright, warm noon-day sun, studying the empty streets. The years of neglect, salt air and an earthquake had been hard on Montpellier. The classic red roofs were more often caps on a pile of rubble, now. Just as Torah had pointed out, the rising waters of the Mediterranean had long since breached the sea wall and drove sea fingers inland, sometimes leaving what had been suburbs as now lonely, desolate islands.

Torah had all but demanded that Jessa remain with them until they could commandeer a car on the road east of town, but she had finally won the argument with logic, explaining patiently that she could run along the old road down from the hills and be at the western edge of town - especially with the rising of a bright moon to light the way - before they could even find a car to abscond with, let alone the danger that might present, given how determined he'd been to keep her out of danger. Two men waylaying a Special Forces vehicle could be written off to roadside bandits. But two men and a woman? He'd finally relented, but only after giving her the phone that could connect them to Jacq, and eliciting a solemn promise that she would turn it on and call the Parisian if they weren't back together by nightfall the following day.

As she'd made her way down from the hills to the north, she'd watched for the telltale signs of lights along where she guessed the sea to be. Once, she'd caught glimpses of light, but when she stopped to peer southward, something topped a rise and the light proved to be headlights on a car; probably one of the Range Rovers the Special Forces seemed fond of. She tried to visually trace back along its path anyway, noting landmarks as best she could. Now, she was working her way in that direction, as carefully as she could. The rubble and collapsing buildings made that more of a challenge than she expected, but when she came to a street that appeared to have been bulldozed clear, she quickly disappeared back into the rubble. It was beginning to appear that there was something down by the "new" waterfront that was interesting the Special Forces, and she didn't think it was a white sand beach.

Remembering how cautious Erich had been to hide their trail over the hills to Montpellier, Jessa stashed the wrapper of her energy bar under a heavy fallen brick, then dusted the fine dirt over the sharp crevices produced when she'd moved the brick. She had not said anything to Torah or Erich, but she had watched them closely during the two days of hiking; the seemingly casual care they had taken to erase traces of their passage. When she had spotted a grouse and jokingly suggested they catch it for dinner one evening, Torah only rolled his eyes and Erich looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "I'll catch it if you'll eat it raw," he bargained.

Jessa found herself muttering, "I was just joking," though her stomach growled at the thought of a fire roasted game bird. Torah had even gone so far as to indulge his baby-making urges by pushing her up against a tree, rather than risking the more tell-tale signs left by thrashing around on the forest floor; and Jessa had to admit that she wasn't very good at not thrashing, unless he saw fit to bind her. At first, she had been offended when he'd taken several opportunities to wrap her arms around a tree trunk and stripped her pants down to her ankles, especially with Erich only a few feet away. But as soon as he pulled on her hips and she slid effortlessly onto his cock, she would brace her feet on exposed tree roots, push her ass back against him, and dare him to fill her deeper. She only briefly remembered where they were and why, when Erich would shout out, "You're disturbing the bears' hibernation, you know!" If she had been vocalizing, she didn't remember, but neither would she have been surprised. The man behind her, ignoring Erich and ramming into her with a steady, determined rhythm was not to be denied. He kept her lifted, on tiptoes, minimizing footprints or something, no doubt. She hadn't cared then, and when she put her hand on her belly now, wondering and hoping, she still didn't care.

On one occasion, there had been a hefty branch just above her head, and he had put her back against the tree, her hands clasped over the branch and lifting her legs to wrap about his waist. Jessa couldn't have said how she hung on to that branch, save the pressure of the tree trunk at her back. Torah seemed almost savage in his fucking; or maybe desperate was more to the point, on reflection. Beyond rational expectation, he seemed certain that she was about to be pregnant again with twins, and if he had some arcane insight into that future, she was more than happy to embrace it. Even knowing that he could not possibly, because of their current separation, be aware of how much she exerted herself, or how careful she was picking her way through the all but demolished western side of the city, she remained vigilant, his warnings replaying on a constant loop in her mind.

As she moved further westward, she had doubled back north around a number of sea fingers, which were working hard to create new salt marshes along the southern outskirts of the city. Jessa tried not to think about the mosquitoes buzzing in eager greeting about her. It was just so wrong, being plagued by mosquitoes in December. But it was wrong, too, that a city more than a few kilometers from the sea wall should have its lower-lying lands inundated by the sea. Everything was wrong and out of control.

She took not the first in a long line of deep breaths and plotted a route to take her even further west. Her occasional sightings of cleared, or at least well-used, roads heading in that general direction was giving her substantial hope to find something, if not immediately useful, at least informative. She continued west, at a couple of points opting to wade through the sea water, cognizant of its unnatural warmth and the loss of the beautiful "Mediterranean Blue" color that, in her memory, was derived from book stories and old pictures of dubious RGB reproduction. Apart from the whole concept of occupied sectors in old cities, nothing had jumped up and smacked her in the face the way this real Mediterranean Sea contrasted with her idealized - even romanticized - version of it had.

It was mechanical sounds that alerted Jessa first. Something like hammering, and metal on metal clangor. She ducked behind a portion of wall that was still standing and listened closely. It could be something washing against something else in the gentle surf of the Med. But it wasn't regular enough. And as she strained to listen, she could pick out men's voices, trying to be heard over the clanking. She'd come upon something, and she knew she shouldn't dare move closer until nightfall. Except that was when she was supposed to meet up with Torah and Erich. She glared at the sun, willing it to set sooner, and searched her pockets, knowing full well she'd eaten all the rations Torah had pushed on her.

Never one for patience, Jessa carefully crept forward, dodging from cover to cover, closer to the sounds. When she finally reached a rocky outcrop where she could lay on her belly and look down on the activity, it took her more than a few minutes to puzzle it out.

At first, and even second glance, it appeared to be a line of warehouses that had been inundated be a finger of sea stretching up a low-laying wide roadway. They stood out more by virtue of their completeness from the surrounding rubble than anything else, but as she peered closer, she could make out a couple of vehicles, behind the line of buildings, hidden from satellite view by aluminum roofing, the same roofing that covered the 'warehouses.' And as she focused on the nearest wall of the line of structures, she realized it was not the usual concrete or brick utilitarian construction but something more haphazard, scavenged from ruins, perhaps, and it did not reach far enough down to meet the swirling water, even now at high tide. Further, she caught occasional glimpses of lights shining through that gap.

Jessa would have patted herself on the back for having found Torah's inspiration, but the soft sound of a growl froze her in place. It would not be all that surprising to find feral dogs hanging around a city that men had reoccupied, and where there was one, there was probably a pack. Her mind flew back over an all-too-brief segment on feral animals from a course on Animal Behavior. Researchers had found that feral dogs had retained some fear of men, normal in most wild animals, but they proved more dangerous as the refuse from men and other predators in the abandoned cities tapered off and the dogs found themselves without the highly trained hunting skills of their wild cousins. Of course, that study was probably four or five dog generations ago, at least. Jessa schooled herself with the protocols employed by the researchers; move slow, appear large, avoid eye contact.

She spread her hands, palm down, to push herself to her feet. Before she could rise, though, two paws came into view next to her left hand and warm breath rustled the hairs in her arm, which were standing straight up despite the humid sea air. She could hear the huffing as the dog calmly sniffed her. Jessa turned her head slowly, just in time to see two heavy black boots come to a stop next to the dog's paws.