And then they’d seen the sign stuck on the hotel’s first floor windows.
“We only take cash,” one of the armed figures said. “Not sure how long we’ll be doing that, neither.”
“Who is we?” Bobby asked.
The man grunted. “The folks with guns, that’s who. Hilton’s gone. Just about every company worth squat’s gone. Can’t pay their workers no more. The new currency is real estate. Don’t you forget it. Real estate, bullets and gold.”
Bobby gave a cursory nod, turned on his heels and muttered to himself as they headed back for the car. “Jeez, everything’s gone to hell. Looks like we’ve got to rely on ourselves.”
“Well, I’m used to that,” Linwood Witt said, scratching the gray stubbly beard that grew on his chin like a weed. “But we ain’t got no one to beg off here, and we don’t got enough gas to get us much past Edwards.”
Eve, who’d been casting nervous glances over her shoulder at the guards as they walked toward the car, said, “I’ve got some jewelry. He said gold still counts for something.”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Bobby said. He’d been uncomfortable with Eve since she’d escaped with them. It simply made no sense to him that a mother would desert her child, even if he was in the care of his father. Maybe his desperation to find Maria had affected his point of view, but once he found her, he couldn’t imagine ever letting her out his sight again.
They climbed back into the Frontier and Bobby shorted the ignition to bring it back to life. “Our best chance of getting gas is at Edwards,” he said. “It may be the only place around here where there’s any law and order left.”
“Yeah, but we better hope Clarita ain’t told ’em to look out for us or we’ll find ourselves lookin’ at the inside of a jail cell. Or worse.”
“I’ll take that chance,” Bobby said. He felt as though they were being watched from all sides as the seemingly normal streets were revealed to be nothing more than a disguise for a society tottering on the edge of ruin.
As he took the highway north toward Edwards, he looked out at the retail parks, offices, hotels and suburban streets on either side. He couldn’t tell whether they had any power, but the illuminated road signs were dead.
Then he noticed the traces of black smoke on either side, rising lazily over the ordered streets, then being blown by the wind into a single low cloud that hugged the horizon.
More cars joined the highway, and a line of people formed alongside, all hurrying northward like escapees from a war-torn country. As the sun set, they vanished into the murk, just shuffling shadows in the afterglow.
“We need to find somewhere to lay low for the night,” Bobby said. “We can’t make it to Edward’s before it gets fully dark and I don’t want to use my lights.”
Eve pointed to a road leading off the highway. “That looks quiet.”
Bobby took a right, and they followed the dusty road into the desert. “Thompson’s Mobile Estates,” he read. “Sure, as good a place as any.”
They turned into the entrance. “Look, lights.”
Sure enough, orange illumination could be seen leaking from the windows of some of the mobile homes. “Maybe they’ve got their own power.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Linwood said. “I’ve stayed in places like this and some folks took their power supply into their own hands. Propane, mainly. Some used turbines to charge batteries.”
As they were passing one of the lit homes, someone stepped out in front of the car, one hand held out and a flashlight in the other.
Bobby slammed his foot on the brake and a second face appeared at his window. He rolled it down and an old man looked in, wiry beard first.
“Wherever you folks think you’re goin’, this ain’t the right way. So, turn around and head on back. And don’t make no sudden movements.”
Bobby put on what he thought was a winning smile. “We’re just looking for somewhere to park up for the night so we can get some sleep. We don’t mean any harm and we’re no danger.”
The old man’s face tightened as he regarded Bobby with suspicion and anger. “Maybe you didn’t quite hear me right. I said, get outta here. Don’t make me call the others. Ol’ Holsten there ain’t the only one backin’ me up.”
The old man was making a lot of noise, but Bobby suspected that “Holsten”, who was standing in front of the hood, rifle across his arms, was the entirety of the security force.
Eve leaned forward. “Oh, please. Won’t you help us? Please?”
Bobby glanced over in surprise, but the effect on the old man was instant. “Oh, you got a lady with you. A perty lady. Hey, come look Hol.”
Holsten, who was twenty years the old man’s junior and forty pounds heavier, shuffled around and looked through the window. Eve smiled, and Holsten mirrored her. “I don’t see why she can’t stay, Art.”
“We come as a package,” Eve said.
The old man leaned in. “Who’s that in back?”
“Name’s Linwood Witt, former corporal, United States Marine Corps.”
“Fer real?” the old man said. “I was ten years 82nd Airborne, two years in ’Nam when I was too young to know better. Marty Garfunkel, though everyone calls me Art.
“You guys can come stay with us tonight, as long as you can vouch for this here…” he gestured at Bobby. “I don’t know what I’m allowed to call him.”
“You could try American,” Bobby said, holding in his temper.
Linwood leaned forward from the back seat. “It’s okay, Art. Bobby’s the real deal.”
“He saved me from kidnappers,” Eve said.
Art rubbed his beard, ejecting a shower of dust and dead skin. “Did he? Well, come on in. I guess these are new times, for good or bad.”
Bobby swallowed his temper and followed the others into the little iron-topped house, guided by two gas lamps that hung on either side of the door.
He couldn’t see much detail once he’d gotten inside, and he suspected that was just as well. The two men lived together as two men often do—like a pair of goats in a pen—and Bobby only hoped that the cup he was offered had been washed out before being filled with cheap instant coffee.
He brushed aside his uncharitable thoughts as he squeezed onto the couch with Eve to his left and Linwood on the other end.
“We don’t get visitors often,” Art said. “And most often we don’t want to see those who do turn up. Do-gooders and feds.”
The younger man handed a cup to Eve and went to stand with his back to the window while Art sat in an old armchair and kicked out the foot rest, which extended with a clang of old springs.
“So, where you folks come from?”
Art was looking at Linwood, but he simply glanced across at Bobby and the old man was forced to look in his direction. “We’ve come from the camp at Santa Clarita, but before that Ventura. It’s all gone now, of course.”
“You mean you saw it?” Holsten gasped.
Bobby nodded. “Yeah. Nearly got drowned by it. Saw many who were.”
Art shook his head. “Well, I’ll be… So, it’s true.”
“Of course it’s true,” Bobby said. “Why? Did you think it was some kind of conspiracy theory?” He could instantly tell that this was exactly what they’d believed. But he was too tired to get angry.
Eve leaned forward. “I was in a cabin by Pyramid Lake when the water came up the valley. I thought it was going to keep rising.”
“Is it the flood? Like Noah?” Holsten asked in a whisper.
“Oh, don’t be a fool!” Art said, cuffing him around the wrist. “The flood covered the whole dang world. We’d be swimmin’ with the fishes if it was the flood. And it ain’t rained for no forty days. You wanna go back and read your Genesis again, boy, before you say another word. It’s God’s plan, alright. Everything is. But what He means by it, I don’t know.”
Art shook his head. “I thought it was all a lie. Like Area 51, just bigger and better organized. They’ve fooled u
s before, but I guess it’s the truth this time.”
Linwood slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a yawn. “Sorry,” he said. “Been a long day.”
“Come on, Hol, let’s get these folks sorted out with somewhere to sleep the night. You all sleepin’ alone, I suppose?” Art said, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at Bobby.
If he were only thinking of himself, Bobby would have moved the car into the driveway and slept there, but there was Eve to think of. No way was he going to leave her here with only Linwood to protect her.
“I’m happy to sleep on the floor,” he said, “and Eve can take the couch.”
Holsten looked relieved. “You can have our beds, if you like…”
“Thank you,” Eve said, smiling kindly at the bigger, younger man. “We’ll be fine here.”
“Well, I’ll accept the invitation,” Linwood said. “Man don’t spend half his life on the road without learnin’ to accept a real bed when it’s offered.”
Holsten’s face dropped, but he glanced at Art, who was sitting magnanimously in his armchair, and nodded. “Sure. Guess I’ll sleep in with Pop.”
When the younger man had left the room and could be heard rummaging around his bedroom, Art leaned forward. “Where are you folks headin’?”
“We’re looking for my daughter,” Bobby said. “We think she’s at the Vegas base.”
He nodded. “Well, you take care on the road. You hear me? Won’t be long before folks won’t be allowed to travel without permits. And worse, there’s bandits.”
“Where you gettin’ your information?” Linwood asked.
Art gestured outside. “We got our sources. Keep each other up to date. Ol’ Jonny over in ten, his grandson got beat up real bad on 14—left fer dead. Stole his gas an’ ever’thin’ he had. Poor kid crawled out of the ditch with a broken head. Lucky he was spotted and brought back. Don’t reckon he’ll ever talk again.”
“I thought it was going to be the military we had to watch out for.”
“Oh, it’s them as well. Not the regulars, they’re okay, although this damn curfew’s only the beginning. But the governor’s been recruitin’. Anyone with a gun, if they’ll swear on the good book. Not that most of ’em have read a single page.”
“The state government’s still working, then?”
Art shrugged. “We hear things, and sometimes, when the power’s on, we get broadcasts. Last I heard, they was tryin’ to join together, but dollar to a dime they won’t be able to agree who’s in charge. But I see the young lady’s lookin’ sleepy, so I’ll take myself off to bed.”
“Thanks, Art,” Bobby said, as the old man got to his feet.
“Sure, son. It’s good to have a little company.”
#
“I feel like I need a shower,” Bobby said as they turned back onto Route 14 and headed north.
“Hey, don’t look a gift horse. I’ve slept in much worse places.”
Eve poked Bobby’s leg. “They were quite sweet in their own way. Though I wouldn’t have stayed with them on my own.”
Bobby grunted. He’d slept on his coat, not wanting any part of his body to be in contact with the filthy carpet. When he’d gotten up in the morning, he’d turned it over to find it stained with grease and heaven-knew-what, so he’d thrown it in the trunk and made a mental note not to light a match near it.
But, somehow, they’d all slept well and had enjoyed a stimulating breakfast of Pop Tarts and black instant coffee before getting back on the road.
The detour had muddied Bobby’s mind, however. He’d planned to go to Edward’s first. Maria and her “caregiver” (Bobby thought of the woman as her kidnapper, however unfair that might turn out to be) would probably have passed through the base on their journey to Vegas. They might even have stayed there. But, in any event, Bobby wanted confirmation.
On the other hand, after talking with Art, he was nervous of having any involvement with the authorities. He was terrified they’d get to Vegas only to find they’d missed Maria. He wanted to leave no stone unturned.
As for the others, Linwood was all for going to Edwards, whereas Eve wanted to stay on the road.
So, Bobby left the decision until they were nearer to the base.
“Look,” Eve said, pointing away from the sun to where a black cloud hugged the ground. The flat plains, all tussocks and small bushes, ran in all directions, but the bulk of the smoke sat in front of a small sandy peak that was the only blemish on an otherwise perfectly horizontal plain.
“Jeez,” Linwood said. “That’s right about where Edwards is. Some sort of fire.”
“Maybe that’ll make up our minds.” Bobby glanced at the pall of smoke and wondered what it could signify. Maybe it was nothing more than an accidental fire on the air base, but his heart told him it was more serious than that. But what? Some kind of terrorist attack? Now? He had to admit, there would be some kind of twisted logic to it. Kick the enemy when they’re down.
They continued to head north, passing just the occasional car going in the opposite direction, until they approached the edge of Mojave. “Gas station,” Linwood said. “Looks like it’s open. Be good to top up.”
It was like looking back in time. A line of cars moved through the gas pumps, emerging the other side to rejoin the road. But Bobby’s spider sense was tingling. Something wasn’t right.
“Soldiers,” Linwood growled.
Sure enough, he could see figures walking between the cars with assault rifles clutched to their chests. But it was too late to bypass the gas station as a man in desert camouflage stepped out from the shadows, aiming his rifle at them. A second man followed him and motioned for Bobby to roll down the window.
“This is a restricted facility. What’s your business here?”
“It’s okay, we’ll drive on,” Bobby said, beginning to turn the wheel.
“No. Turn into the station, park in front of the kiosk.”
“On whose authority?” Eve asked, looking through from the passenger seat. Bobby heard Linwood gasp.
The soldier at the window focused on her. “On that authority,” he said, pointing at the man blocking their way holding an assault rifle. “And this,” he added, drawing a hand gun. “Do as I say and pull in.”
Bobby followed his direction. Behind him, he could hear Linwood shaking his head. “They ain’t regular soldiers. They got the gear, alright, but they don’t know how to use it. And that was a Ruger—not military issue.”
Bobby felt his stomach tighten, but had no choice other than to park the car at the kiosk.
He got out and found the soldier with the hand gun waiting for him.
“So, what’s your business here?”
“We’re heading for the camp at Vegas.”
“Why?”
“We’re looking for my daughter. She was at the Clarita camp. Left on a bus last week.”
The soldier rubbed his chin. “There’s been no buses that way for over a week. And Clarita’s been shut down ’cause of the sickness, so how’d you get out? No, I reckon you’re tellin’ a bunch of lies.”
“We’re not,” Eve said. “We really are looking for his daughter.”
The soldier seemed to regard her for a moment. “Well, okay. Maybe you’re tellin’ the truth. If you pay the toll, you can pass.”
It was at this moment, that Bobby noticed the kiosk was piled high with boxes. He couldn’t see much, but he caught a glimpse of gold.
“You’re bandits!” Bobby spat.
Pain exploded in Bobby’s jaw as the soldier pistol-whipped him. Eve cried out, but Linwood grabbed her, stopping her from attacking the soldier.
“At least you got a little sense. Keep that woman off me or she’ll get the same, old man.”
Other figures appeared, opening the doors and rifling through the car, while Bobby and the others were shepherded away, locked in the wire cage that held the propane bottles.
Bobby rubbed his jaw and fumed until they were led back.
�
�Count yourself lucky,” the soldier who’d hit him said. “We got no use for this piece of crap. Now, get on your way. And be sure to call in to Edwards.”
Bobby climbed into the driver’s seat and he could immediately see that the inside of the car had been stripped bare. Their meager supply of food and water, their spare clothes, everything they’d escaped from Santa Clarita with, all gone. He wanted to roll down the window and tell the bandits—and they’d proven that it was the right word—what he thought of them. But he focused on Maria, and his rage took a back seat. It wouldn’t help her if he got a bullet in the head because he couldn’t swallow his pride.
He shorted the ignition as the soldiers moved away, careful to make sure they didn’t see him do it. Then kept his eye on them through the mirror as he drove across the gas station and out the other side onto the highway again.
“I knew it,” Linwood said.
“What?”
He reached through and pointed at the console.
Bobby roared and banged his fist on the steering wheel.
They’d taken most of their gas, leaving barely enough to get to Edwards, let alone across the desert to Vegas.
Bobby cursed until the air seethed with his rage. He didn’t notice Eve’s hand on his shoulder or the fear on her face as he vented all his madness, the car veering along the highway.
Finally, he brought himself under control, taking them off Route 14 and onto Route 58. Over two hundred miles from Vegas in a car with, maybe, ten miles of gas. Their only chance was Edwards, and over Edwards hung a pall of black smoke.
Chapter 24
Departure
“Where’s Jodi?” Ellie asked, as she almost collided with Patrick who was coming up the stairs carrying a plate of fried eggs.
“What? Oh, she got up earlier. Said she was going to spend some time with Buzz.”
Ellie followed him up to the landing. “That was a hell of a recovery.”
Phage: Deluge Book 2: (A Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Story) Page 20