Death and The Divide (6 page)

“You’ll forward your final report when it’s complete?” Linc asked. A sudden urge to run from the room almost overcame him. Yet, he knew he couldn’t escape this grim reality. Men eating each other while they were still alive.

“Of course, and let me know what you find as well, Dr. Butler.”

Linc nodded and left the room. He’d seen enough.  Time to return to Birmingham and review the digestive track they’d taken from one of the whales. The idea of a common food seemed as good a place to start as any. The victims, both human and animal, had one thing in common. The sea.

Chapter Six

Annaria stared through the T-10’s tinted window as they approached The Divide. Although her heart still ached, the one in her head had finally faded. She’d followed the looming fence on the horizon for at least the last ten miles. Its tall electro-wire structure towered in the sky and traveled east and west in a line unbroken except by the massive tan gate fortress ahead. Two identical structures straddled the fence with a courtyard processing center between them.

They’d left signs of civilization straggling behind with the last electro-station some fifteen minutes ago. Now they entered the scorched area where the worst of the civil war left a lingering reminder of terrible battles that had permanently destroyed hope of vegetation. Other than the wall, the stripped land on this side held only lines of tall windmill power generators, their enormous blades spinning in unison.

Shipments of products passed back and forth through here, although interaction was limited to unloading and loading the supplies, mostly handled by mechanical means. Humans stayed separate until their products had been processed, then they returned to their respective countries. A person might apply for citizenship on the other side and was held here until approval of his or her application.

The North had requested more agriculture products according to the news, citing their increasing population needs, but the South had not agreed. She grimaced. Her mother constantly harped to Ria to have a child before the North transitioned from limiting one child per individual or couple. The government moved toward a species propagation program limiting the number of children per year, which they slated for implementation in the next two years. As far as she knew, the South had no restrictions on number of children.

“This is a little eerie,” Dr. Borman said, her eyes wide as she stared into the distance. “I’ve never seen The Divide before.”

“I saw the gate fortress in North Carolina once,” Dr. Patel said in a low voice. “It’s not as big as this one.”

Louis twisted in his seat so he could look forward, his expression blank. After a moment, he said, “Strange, I hadn’t expected to feel this way seeing the wall.”

“What do you mean?” Dr. K. also turned to view the road ahead and the huge fence.

“Fascinating, I actually felt a surge of anger.” The big black man frowned. “Knowing they don’t approve of people of color in the South never seemed so close and personal.”

“Hmm, I see what you mean,” Dr. K. said and pursed his lips. “I always thought, oh, white people live in the South, just like you think Italians live in Italy, or Mexicans live in Mexico. But seeing this structure…this Divide…makes me remember why it’s here and the horror of the past.”

“Exactly,” Manson said.

Annaria squeezed the strap of her backpack until her knuckles paled. Ire rose in her, too, but for an act more immediate. Authorities had offered no confirmation, yet, but she believed the South responsible for Lola’s death. The history of The Divide pressed on her as well. How had two peoples come to hate each other so much? They’d shared the same country for hundreds of years until the pull of conservatism and liberalism went extreme and tore asunder whatever ties remained.

“I suggest we stay in the building on the North’s side of the gate,” Dr. Patel said, his face grim.

“Wow, this is already tense and we haven’t even met them yet,” Annaria said. She moved her gaze to her companions. She never thought of them as anything other than people or colleagues. The South would also not welcome her quarter black and half Mexican heritage. She touched her unruly black curls, her ethnic-looking hair and her olive complexion would make her stand out as a persona non-grata to the Southerners.

“We’ll look like their worst nightmare,” Dr. K said and chuckled, a deep throaty sound. “A real ethnic parade.”

His quip lifted the heavy atmosphere in the car, and everyone broke into laughter.

“Whatever happens,” Louis said, settling in his seat to face them. “We are professionals, and this crisis is too important to let petty political ideology side-rail us. So toughen your hides and ignore any derogatory comments.”

They remained silent the rest of the trip, an air of apprehension thickening with the impending arrival at the wall. Annaria couldn’t stop staring at the massive structure as it grew to loom above their vehicle. When they stopped at the entrance, a shiver ran through her and she rubbed her arms.

Gray uniformed Northern troops with laser blasters came from the guardhouse to greet them. The driver had their I.D. chits and handed them to the lead officer. He nodded and motioned them toward the metal doors sliding apart under the arch of the fortress facade. They entered a tunnel that quickly widened into an open area with other vehicles of varied sizes parked at the periphery, sort of a hangar-type structure.

A man in a gray uniform motioned them to a spot, and the driver maneuvered forward and stopped.

They had arrived at The Divide.

Louis left the car first and shook hands with the official in gray. The rest of the team crawled out and joined him. Other gray clothed people went about their business in the area, casting quite a few speculative glances their direction.

“I’m Elliot Spencer, director of this gate facility. This meeting is a bit unprecedented. We’ve tried to provide all that you’ll need despite our regular duties of keeping the border safe,” the man said as they gathered in front of him. He was thin, about fifty, his dark blond hair liberally mixed with gray. He fiddled with his comm-unit and kept glancing around the area in a nervous manner but he made a valiant attempt at courtesy. “We have prepared rooms for you while you’re here. I’ll take you there so you can leave your luggage. Your meeting with the representatives from the South will take place in the joint meeting room between the two fortresses.”

Annaria shared a questioning look with Dr. Borman. A joint meeting room? Did that mean the two sides met frequently? She’d never heard even a rumor of such a thing.

“Please follow me,” Elliot said and started for a door in the side wall.

Footsteps echoed as their shoes contacted the hard concrete-steel floor. The walls appeared made of the same strong material painted a light gray. This place was indeed a fortress of military-grade materials.

The director took them in a lift to the fifth floor. The doors parted to reveal a small open area containing a sitting area, vid-screen, and egg-shaped isolation units where people could link to the station’s computer system and work without distraction. The units could also project different environments, play music, or provide theater and concert events. They had similar ones at the library back home.

Down a hall, sliding doors on each side led to sleeping chambers. Bare but functional, they learned the facility typically used these rooms for those attempting to gain citizenship who had to wait for their application to process. The director had cleared the fifth floor for their stay, so only the science team would occupy this level.

The rooms appeared identical, so Annaria chose one at random. She placed her carryall on a twin bed. Other than the bed, she had a chair, a desk, a vend unit, and a small closet with shelves. Off the end of the room was a small personal hygiene room. She hoped they wouldn’t stay too long. The narrow bed didn’t look very comfortable.

She joined the others in the sitting room, a little jittery at meeting the Southerners. Would they wear guns as she’d heard in the North, like the ancient west cowboys? The thought made her uncomfortable.

“Now, I’ll take you to the joint meeting room. From level four of the gatehouses on both sides, a walkway extends over the common open pass to a suspended meeting room. Please follow me.” Elliot activated the lift, and they descended two floors.

From there, they continued along an area with walls embedded with monitoring devices and surveillance screens. More workers in gray moved among the equipment or stared at the screens, which viewed sections of the wall and the inside of the gatehouse.

After leaving that area, they passed through four security doors with guards at each one that checked their I.D. chits and scanned their implant chips. The fourth door at the end opened to a clear-walled room where more guards went through their totes and Annaria’s backpack then scanned them for weapons. As if.

She couldn’t stop staring at the large room beyond the last door. It also had clear walls and floor. At the center, twelve white-cushioned chairs surrounded a glass conference table. On one side, a glass table held beverages in pitchers and trays of round food pods. No vend machine here. Indeed, the entire room was suspended over a paved area between the two gate fortresses, connected only by the two tunnel walkways from each side. So much glass. It more than confirmed the suspicions still rampant in the two sides. No one could hide anything in there.

The height made her head spin, and she forced her eyes from the outside. After their clearance, they filed into the room. Walking on the floor took a second of reality checking because of her unobstructed view of the ground far below. Since their footsteps made no vibration, Annaria determined the place must be solidly built. Good.

She went to the side. From this level, she could gaze into the South. Close to the fence, their side looked not nearly as bare and devastated at the North’s, and lacked the lines of windmills. In the distance, a forest of thick green trees stretched to a range of blue mountains barely visible in the polluted haze on this side of the fence. Their environment had fared better than the North’s with such lush vegetation. Southern bombs had stripped much of the North bare during the Great Divide War. A spark of jealousy visited the lingering bitterness over Lola, bringing her anger back to full flame.

A large area surrounded by a tall wire fence held hundreds of ragged tents. Figures in tattered clothing ambled aimlessly among the structures, like animals in a zoo with no purpose but to survive. She nudged Louis who’d come to stand beside her. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s their containment camp for those waiting to immigrate to the North,” he said. “The waiting rooms here can only hold so many people. I understand there’s always more who want to cross over.”

Pity and disbelief welled inside her at the image of poverty in this mass of trapped humanity, extinguishing her anger. There were Southerners who wanted to leave their abundant agricultural environment. It wasn’t all about beautiful landscapes. Political and social unrest could leave souls as barren as the war scared land in the North. “Why don’t they just let them pass? Waiting in those conditions must be horrible.”

“There are too many to process quickly. Until they are, they remain the responsibility of the South. They pile up.” He shrugged. “They have to undergo security checks. I imagine the North can’t let everyone in who applies. Remember what happened yesterday.”

His words evoked the nightmare of her sister’s death anew, and sorrow engulfed her like an aching flu. So many people eager to enter the North. Where were the people who wanted to enter the South?

“Is this how they treat their poor? I know they don’t provide social services.” She couldn’t imagine living in such squalor.

“Their people don’t believe in handouts or taxes. They think everyone should work and make their own living. Those who fall by the way only have charitable institutions as hope. Their organized religion sort of takes the place of government social services and operates some charity hospitals and poor camps.”

He took a last look at the camp and moved away, as she dragged her eyes from the depressing scene.

Name cards directed them to places at the table, interspersing the two sides with an alternating North/South seating arrangement. Wonderful, she’d be between two people from the South. She sucked in a deep breath hoping she’d be able to keep thoughts of her sister from intruding on the scientific dialogue. They took seats, fiddling with their tech-pads and trying not to look at the clear floor.

A sound from the other side drew Annaria’s attention. The South’s contingent had arrived. She swallowed, gripping her pad until her fingers protested the pressure.

Four men and one woman, all white, wore formal dark suits except for one man who wore old-fashioned jeans with his white tunic. One guy actually did have a pistol! A guard relieved him of his weapon, and he shrugged with a wry expression. Did he really think it necessary to bring a gun to this meeting?

Her pulse raced as the door slid open and the Southerners entered. They paused just inside the doorway as a group, their eyes scanning the Northerners in an appraising manner. The atmosphere reeked of apprehension.

Dr. Manson rose and cleared his throat then strode toward them. “I’m Louis Manson. Glad you could meet us here.”

His action broke the ice and led to hand-shaking and introductions. With tentative smiles, they murmured pleasantries. Ria stayed in her seat focusing on her pad.

The man in jeans took a seat on her left. His place card read Dr. Lincoln Butler. A tall muscular man, he had rugged good looks and short, bleached blond hair as if he lived a lot of time under the sun. In the North, a man that fit might spend his spare time practicing for the Great Obstacle Event. Her own father had trained and participated for many years but never won. He’d wanted her or Lola to continue the tradition, but Lola found exercise too fatiguing, and Annaria was too ensconced in her studies. Hadn’t she read in a news report that he was the marine biologist who had investigated the whale deaths?