by Alfred Wurr
“Sure, but who’s Herb?” I asked, squinting my eyes. “Why are you laughing?”
“Here comes Brad,” Alan said. The van wobbled slightly as the last member of our party jumped into the driver’s seat.
He looked in the rear-view mirror at the group. “Let’s get this over with and then get a few hotel rooms. I could use a shower and some sleep. I’m bonking.”
It had been a sleepless night for all of them, with the attack on their camp. I knew that people need to sleep regularly, or fatigue clouds their minds and abilities. Las Vegas lay more than a three-hour drive away. I don’t need to sleep as much as humans do so I hadn’t considered how tired they must be until that moment. I can go weeks without it, but I do need to regenerate my mind to process experiences and allow my body to repair and rejuvenate. After the ordeal of my flight from the Institute, the battle with the fire elementals, and the desert heat, a rest would be welcome, even critical to surviving whatever lay before me. Sleep is also a weapon, I’d heard somewhere before.
“What about Shivurr?” Lucy asked. “He can’t just walk into the hotel lobby with us.”
“Dunno,” Brad said, turning the key to start the vehicle. “We’ll figure it out. Give it some thought.”
“I need to make a phone call before we leave town,” I said.
“No problemo,” Brad replied. “Alan can take you after we check in.”
Brad put the van in gear, and it lurched forward, heading for the sheriff’s office.
“Just keep driving straight, then turn right on Radar Road,” Alan said, pointing.
We soon passed a pale blue-and-white two-storey building with a sign out front identifying it as the Clown Motel on our left, then the Old Tonopah Cemetery, which lay well back from the road. The drive was short; within five minutes we pulled into the parking lot surrounding the Nye County Justice Court, Jail, and Sheriff’s Office. We drove through once, getting the lay of the land, then circled back around. The lot was almost empty, but Brad still parked at a distant corner, as far away from the door as possible.
“No one should bother you here, Shivurr,” he said, pulling the keys from the ignition.
“Let’s go get this done,” Alan said grimly.
The group exited the vehicle and made their way inside. I sat and waited, hoping no one would pass too closely, notice the frosty windows, and get curious. Then waited some more. Two and a half hours later, they re-emerged.
Everyone hopped back into the vehicle. “Hey, Shivurr, any trouble while we were gone?” Lucy asked, taking a seat beside me in the back.
“Glad that’s over,” Alan declared, leaning back in his seat, and running his hands through his hair.
“Hell, yeah,” agreed Caleb as the others nodded their heads.
“All quiet here,” I responded. “How did it go?”
“They sent a few deputies to the crater. Made us wait while they did, but the bastards were gone,” Brad said, scowling.
“Even the truck,” Lilith said. “They must have had another key.”
“Or hotwired it,” Caleb said, looking at Alan.
“Maybe,” Alan said. “I heard it’s not hard.”
Lucy turned in her seat to face me. “The sheriff issued an arrest warrant. We gave them the guns, vehicle description, plates, and driver’s licenses. They’re getting the photos developed for evidence, but we already picked them out of a book of mug shots.”
The van rumbled to life. I braced myself as it lurched backward, and we pulled away. Brad turned left onto Radar Road to take us back to town.
“They’ll get them,” Alan said reassuringly. “It’s just a matter of time.”
“I hope so,” Lilith said, frowning.
“Anyway, they told us we were free to go,” Lucy said. “They’ll call us if we need to testify.”
Brad turned left again onto Main. “So, Mizpah Hotel?” The others nodded agreement.
“Can we find a phone after?” I asked. “I need to call a friend.”
A short while later, the company secured two rooms at the historic old hotel, one for the girls, another for the guys, while I waited in the van. They unloaded the luggage and transferred their bags to the rooms. While the others showered and tried to get some sleep, Alan returned to the van to drive me to find a secluded phone. He had managed to sleep some while waiting in the sheriff’s office and claimed to be more wired than tired.
“Who’s this friend?” Alan said, glancing at me from the driver’s seat, then back at the road.
“A friend of a friend,” I said, reluctant to give a name. “It’s safer if I don’t tell you more.”
“Need to know,” Alan replied with an exaggerated wink. “Understood.”
We found a dusty phone booth near the Clown Motel that we’d passed earlier. Vehicles were parked in front of some rooms, curtains drawn, while window-mounted air conditioners rattled and hummed, fighting to cool the guests within. Alan parked near the motel office, over which a large sign with yellow-and-red lettering welcomed visitors. He parked at an angle, using the van as a curtain, ensuring we couldn’t be seen from the office or parking lot.
The glass booth provided an unobstructed view of the graves of the Old Tonopah Cemetery, which neighboured the motel on its west side. It squatted in a shallow valley between the motel’s asphalt parking lot and some mounds of earth a quarter mile away—detritus of an ancient rock quarry, I presumed.
“Here,” Alan said, dumping a handful of change into my cupped palms.
“Appreciate it.” I scanned the vicinity, making sure we weren’t being watched, then picked up the receiver, dropped in some change, and dialed the number.
A woman answered on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Hi. Is Boreas there?” I asked, giving Alan a thumbs-up. The long-haired teen leaned against the van, muscled arms crossed, and pulled his shades down over his eyes.
“One moment, please,” the woman replied with a snort. “Wil,” she shouted, her voice muffled but not fully muted by, I presumed, a hand over the receiver, “one of your Dungeons and Dragons pals is on the phone.”
A short while later, I heard footsteps, then fumbling sounds as the phone changed hands.
“Thanks, I’ve got it,” I heard him say. Then again, “I said, I’ve got it,” followed by footsteps fading into the background.
“Hello?” said a man’s voice.
“Uh, hi. Is this Boreas?” I asked, continuing to use his BBS SysOp handle. We had never met, except through text chats, arguing about Star Trek versus Star Wars mostly, so I didn’t know his voice.
“Yup, that’s me,” replied the voice. “People call me Wilhelm in analog life. Who’s this?”
“Cool Hand,” I answered. “Scott’s friend.”
“Cool Hand?” Wilhelm replied. He paused. “Oh, hey, bud. What’s up?”
A computer aficionado, Wilhelm Schmidt owned and operated a computer bulletin board system that I frequented, popular among geeks, nerds, and hackers such as himself. So much so, that he’d had a few extra phone lines installed at his home, allowing multiple users to connect simultaneously. People across the country regularly dialed into his computer to post messages, share files, play games, and, most importantly, chat about stuff, particularly movies, comic books, and computers. Scott was a member and a few years earlier had written and installed software that allowed me to join too, without the Bodhi Group being any the wiser.
Before I’d escaped, Scott had told me Wilhelm’s real name—until then, I’d only known him as Boreas—and given me the SysOp’s voice line phone number to call if I ran into trouble. “Just call him and tell him you need to reach me,” Scott had explained. “I’m over at his house quite a bit to play D&D. He lives up the street from me. It won’t raise any suspicions if he calls me at work.”
“I need a favour,” I said into the handset. “My computer is busted, so I can’t get on Olympus, but I need to get a message to Scott. Can you help me out?”
“Uh,
sure, no problem. What’s the message?”
“One sec,” I said. I opened the phone booth door. “What’s your last name, Alan?”
The athletic teen lay parallel to the ground, doing push-ups next to the van. He’d tied his hair into a ponytail to keep it off the asphalt and dirt. “Davis,” he shouted back, jumping to his feet and dusting off his hands. He began shadow boxing himself in the reflection of the van’s side windows.
“I need him to call me at the Mizpah Hotel in Tonopah,” I said into the handset. “Just ask for Brad Davis’s room.”
“For sure, man,” Wilhelm replied. “Consider it done.”
I hung up the phone. Alan had untied the ponytail and was combing his hair, using the passenger window as a mirror. “All good, dude?” he asked, tossing his hair back like a heavy metal rock star.
“Yep,” I said, smirking. “We can head back, if you’re done admiring yourself.”
“Hey—this,” he said, looking down at himself and striking a pose, “doesn’t happen by accident.”
“Okay,” I said, chuckling. “All set, gorgeous?”
“Dick,” he said without rancour.
“Why all the training?”
“Surfing, bro,” Alan said. “Trying to be the best.”
“Doesn’t that sort of take the fun out it? Taking it so seriously?”
He shrugged. “I want to be the best. Do something cool, not live some boring, sad life that’s been lived a thousand times before.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” I said. “Being special can be lonely.”
We hopped into the old van and drove back to the hotel. After some discussion, my new posse decided that I’d room with the guys. They’d rented a larger suite, so they had more room. Plus, if the call came, it would, as I’d instructed Wilhelm, be to Brad’s room.
The midday crowds were eating lunch and rushing to and from work, making getting to the room a tense operation. We sat in the van by a back door to the hotel and debated a few different options. Finally, we just went for it. I pulled up the hood of my winter jacket, hiding my face, and jumped out of the van through the back door, which Caleb held open, rushing up the deserted stairwell. Lucy went first, scouting ahead to ensure the coast was clear, and Lilith brought up the rear, ready to run interference if we heard someone coming. Everyone was hungry after that, having missed breakfast. The snacks they’d had when we’d gassed up were long forgotten, so the group headed out, while I stayed behind. Caleb promised to bring back some drinks and snacks for me as I gave him back his stash.
With nothing else to do but wait, I turned on the television, put some towels down and lay down on the bed. The towels were just a precaution. I don’t sweat much when calm and cool, unlike the snowmen decorating front yards at Christmas. Almost comfortable, for the first time in days, I watched TV for a while, tossing ice cubes into my mouth like popcorn from the bucket Lilith had brought me, and relaxed. Eventually I nodded off and napped while sounds of a detective show played in the background. After a time, the loud, insistent ring of the telephone woke me from a dream haunted by fiery monsters and flashing sirens.
I picked up the handset halfway through the third ring. “Hello?”
“Hey, bro, it’s me, Scott,” said the caller. “How’re you doing, my man?”
“Surviving, so far, buddy,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “I wasn’t sure I was going to make it for a while.”
“I’m looking forward to hearing all about it, but it’ll have to wait. I can’t talk long.” I recognized the sounds of a loudspeaker in the background. “We’ve all been confined to the Institute since your escape. They’re interviewing everyone. Dixon thinks you had help, so he’s on the warpath.”
I sat back down on the bed, taking the phone base with me in my other hand. “Should you be calling from there, then?”
“Don’t worry,” Scott said. “Wil’s using one of the Olympus phone lines to patch me through. He’s holding the handsets together as we speak. If Dixon checks the call logs, they’ll show me making a call I make regularly. Besides, he won’t check them himself; he’ll ask me to do it.”
“Smart.”
“Thanks. Look, do you think you can make it to Las Vegas, to Wilhelm’s house, by tomorrow night?”
“Why’s that? What about the ride north?”
“We’ve got to meet, in person, first,” Scott said, lowering his voice. “After you left, security got a bit slack internally. Everyone was out searching for you, so I snuck into the restricted archives.”
I whistled softly. “Are you nuts? I thought it was too risky.”
“It was worth it,” he said. “Believe me.”
I quelled the urge to ask more, since our time was short. “I think that should work. I met some new friends; they said they’d be willing to give me a ride. If not, I’ll go cross-country.” My face broke into a sweat at the thought.
“I’m not sure when exactly I’ll get there—so hang with Wilhelm until I do,” Scott said. “Play some video games. Watch movies. Stay out of sight.” He took a breath. “I should let you go before someone starts looking for me.”
“Sure thing,” I said. “Thanks for all your help, dude.”
“Most def, my friend. See you soon.” The line clicked as he ended the call.
My new friends returned about thirty minutes later, goodies in hand. As we sat snacking and relaxing, I told them about the phone call. Before I could even ask, Lucy said, “Of course we’ll still take you. It’s the least we can do after you helped us.”
“Right on,” Brad said. “Looks like we’re going to Vegas after all. We’ll head out tomorrow, first thing.”
Chapter 7
May We Come In?
As planned, everyone woke at eight the next morning and went downstairs to eat. I stayed behind and watched cartoons and chugged sodas while I waited. I’d spent the night regenerating in the tub. It was surprisingly comfortable, with ready access to all the water I might need or want. With the door closed, bringing the temperature close to freezing in the enclosed space was no sweat.
An hour later, Caleb and Alan returned to shower and pack. Brad and Lucy, they told me, had left to gas up the van, and buy snacks for the road. After a long time blow-drying and teasing his long hair, Alan left the room soaked in cologne, saying he was going to check on Lilith. Caleb cleaned up next and sank into one of the suite’s plush chairs to watch cartoons with me. I felt rested and refreshed, and positive about the future for a change. By saving the gang at Lunar Crater, I thought, I may have saved myself. I didn’t want to think too closely about what might have happened if I hadn’t come across them when I did.
A few cartoons later, curious about my new friends, I asked, “What brought you guys to Lunar Crater?”
Caleb shrugged his shoulders, continuing to watch the TV. “Lil begged us. She’s a space geek; wanted to see where the astronauts trained. It was kind of on the way back home after Utah. Awesome parks there, dude. Zion is unbelievable.”
“How long have Alan and Lilith been dating?” I asked, flipping to another channel on the TV.
“Long time, dude. Must be almost a year,” Caleb said, looking thoughtful. “He asked her out last summer, after teaching her to surf. He gives lessons for extra cash.”
“She’s pretty pale for a surfer. I mean, not as pale as me, but you know.”
“She’s more a skater girl.” Caleb nodded. “Picked up surfing fast, though. Guess they’re kind of similar.”
“You surf?”
“Chee-uh, since I was eight years old.”
“Are you going pro too?”
“Nuh-uh, too serious for me. Gotta enjoy life.”
A half hour later, Alan returned from Lilith’s room and slammed the door. The bed rocked as he tossed himself onto it, saying nothing. I looked at Caleb, eyebrows raised. He looked back, shaking his head, almost imperceptibly.
“Everything cool, Alan?” Caleb said.
“Fine,” Alan said, staring at t
he wall.
“Sure?”
“I said I’m fine. I’m going to the arcade.” He shot to his feet and left the room.
“Chicks,” Caleb said, shaking his head.
“What’s going on?” I asked, looking at the door.
Caleb grimaced. “Dunno, but trust me, Lil’s the reason.”
“Aren’t you friends?”
“Lil’s cool, but moody,” Caleb said. He swirled his finger in a circle next to his ear. “Queen of the friggin’ mind game.” He lowered his voice and leaned forward, holding the back of his hand to the side of his mouth. “He’s got it bad, dude.”
“It?” I asked, whispering back. “What’s it?”
Caleb chuckled, sitting back in the plush chair. “Duh, he likes her bod, man.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Anyway, they—” Caleb cut himself off as Alan walked back into the room. “Hey, man, forget something?”
“Quarters,” Alan replied, glaring at his friend.
“Come on,” Caleb said. “What’s up?”
His friend shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Spill, dude.”
He pursed his lips, and huffed, then said, “She’s mad about last night. That I didn’t protect her.” Alan sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed his face. “She’s right. I didn’t do anything.”
Caleb’s jaw dropped. “She said that? Do what? Get shot in the face?”
“No, not exactly,” Alan replied, collapsing into a nearby chair. “We were making out, she started crying, told me to leave.” He rubbed his face, sighing. “I was gutless,” he said, voice rising, fists pounding his knees.
“As if…,” Caleb began, hesitating. “Let it go. Bullets beat fists. Shivurr, tell him, man.”
“Most definitely,” I said.
“You did something,” Alan said, his voice barely audible.
“And got shot.” I fingered my chest where the bullets entered. “Twi-ice,” I finished, holding up two fingers on my other hand like a hippie making peace signs at a sit-in.