Usually, Chicago was much like it used to be before the War: gangs and violence and mayhem in good supply around the tunnels where the portal came out. Whether by chance or because Landon was paving their way, this trip was completely uneventful. Michael, an outsider who spent much of his time in Chicago, had come with them since Vasco didn’t know how to get to the Worthington farm.
“This is weird,” Michael mumbled, as they walked through the subway tunnels in silence. They’d come armed with knives and baseball bats, but they met no one.
Vasco led them to the Depot, where they picked up three motorcycles and headed west to Westchester. Clay kept looking over his shoulder, but they didn’t see a single soul all the way to the Worthington farm. It was creepy, as if everyone in Chicago, humans and Firsts, had been teleported elsewhere.
Dr. Worthington’s farm was a small affair, an old white farmhouse at the end of a gravel road. The elderly doctor had allowed the trees to run wild in the front of the house and along the road, so that the property looked overgrown and deserted to anyone driving by on the small, two-lane country road. But behind the house, on rolling hills spreading out over five acres, he had cultivated a miracle. Half of the land was devoted to vegetables and herbs, some medicinal and some for cooking. One acre was a profusion of wildflowers, poppies in particular. Two contained fruit trees: apple, pear and plums. Along a creek at the bottom of the property were willows.
The doctor had heard the motorcycles coming down the drive and was standing at the door to greet them when they stopped, a shotgun hanging at rest by his side. Michael smiled and waved.
“Hey, Doc!” he said.
“Michael! Long time, no see.” The man was in his mid-seventies, but trim and fit. His blonde hair was half gray but still full; he wore it long, waving over his shirt collar. “What brings you to see me?”
Vasco walked quickly up the steps with his hand outstretched. After shaking, he introduced himself. “Dr. Worthington, I’m Vasco. Bobby Turner. I’m afraid we’re in a hurry — Angie sent us. One of our people has suffered a terrible head injury, and we need to get advice, and also medicine. Penicillin, I know, but anything else you think we need.”
Glancing at Clay and seeing the seriousness on all the faces, he waved them in. Closing the door, he motioned them into a back parlor, which had been turned into a veritable pharmacy. The doctor began putting pills into a small jar.
“This is the penicillin. Angie knows the dosage. Now quickly, tell me about the patient.”
MORE ABOUT THE SERIES
With rebel leader Darian free at last, the humans and outsiders on Ixeos must find a way to join forces and defeat the Firsts. The problem? All slaves are tracked with GPS, the Firsts are the only ones with power, and roving gangs hate the rebels just as much as they hate the aliens. As Darian and the outsiders from Earth travel the globe through the mysterious tunnels in Paris, they learn that the Firsts are preparing to launch another wave of biological warfare. With a transporter that will allow the aliens to target any city, anywhere on the planet, the rebels know they must stop them at all costs. As things get more dangerous on Ixeos, the outsiders find that they're pushed to their limit. Will they fight for freedom, no matter the price?