by Bella Street
“I thought it was still summer,” she mumbled.
“It gets colder sooner in the mountains.”
“In the summer?” she snapped.
“It's almost October, which means it's fall.”
September? She'd been at the compound that long? A weight of depression settled on her, squeezing out the anger of more or less being kidnapped by Trent. Seffy closed her eyes and focused on her freezing nose in an attempt to block out the reality that she'd ditched her friends in an effort to save her own skin. Classy.
“Okay, here's the deal.”
The jeep lurched over the uneven ground that could hardly be called a road.
Seffy glanced at Trent's squinty-eyed expression. Apparently the cold was getting to him too.
“I overheard Fiona talking about releasing some kind of agent into the compound in an effort to control the residents.”
“What?”
“Nothing deadly. At least I'm pretty sure. Just something...calming.”
“Oh my God.”
“I only had time to alert you and make a run for it.”
She stared at his stony profile, breathing hard. “And yet you apparently had time to procure transportation.”
“That was something else.”
“What was?”
“The jeep.”
“As opposed to?”
Trent blew out a breath and sent her an annoyed look. “I was making plans to leave, but it became a little more pressing to avoid the apparent airborne chill-pill Fiona planned to spawn.”
“So that's what you think her plan is?” she asked in disbelief. “We are talking about Fiona here.”
“She won't hurt anyone.”
“Tell that to the scars all over my body.”
“That might not have had anything to do with her. Right now, she just wants more control.”
A sliver of Seffy's unease left her. Then she frowned. “Why were you planning to leave?”
“Are you serious? To get away from the compound.”
“Why now? Why not last month or next week?”
“Seffy, you do remember the Addison computer lab incident?”
“Uh, yeah. It made it so we can't go home.”
“We're going home. Right now.”
She gasped. “You're heading to L.A.?”
He nodded, his features grim.
Seffy began to hyperventilate. “We can't just leave! What about the others?”
“We'll call after we arrive in California.”
“Trent, have you forgotten it's 1980?”
“Nope.”
“We can't just leave. We'll affect the future!”
“Who says? Eugene? Gareth? Right now, it's our future I'm worried about—and its short term prospects at the rate it's going if we stay in Montana.”
She frowned. “So you are basically kidnapping me to take me away from my friends to an unknown future when you and I can barely get along?”
“We'll get along just fine. And I'm not kidnapping you. You begged me to stop the jeep.”
“Dammit, I didn't know what I was in for!”
He angled a look at her. “You made your decision and you chose me. Deal with it.”
Seffy's mouth fell open. “Okay, do you have any clue how obsessive you sound?” She edged away from him in the seat. “Are you going to kill me and dump my body in the desert?”
“Trust me, Sef, I'm not obsessive over you. I know you too well for that.”
“Okay, so we move from kidnapping to insults!” She sucked in a breath. “And you didn't deny that you weren't going to kill me.”
He rolled his eyes at her.
Seffy clenched her hands in her lap to deal with a whole new tsunami of emotions—in a desert no less. She couldn't deny the little thrill that she was heading to Los Angeles, but how could she just abandon her friends this way? Or would the happy air make them forget her existence? She glanced at Trent, secretly flattered that he'd come for her. In the next moment she wanted to slug him again for not laying out her options up front.
Seffy fiddled with the zipper on her track suit. “What if I didn't come with you?”
His eyes flashed her way before returning to the semblance of road. “You're here, aren't you?”
She took a deep breath. “I was afraid.”
“Maybe you were afraid of being without me.”
Her eyes widened as she glared at him. “How can you be so damn sure of yourself?”
That got a grin. “I'm not in denial like some people I know.”
“I'm assuming an ex-junkie knows something about denial.”
His smile faded. “Maybe dumping you in the desert isn't such a bad idea. Plus, I'll get better gas mileage.”
“Speaking of gas, where are you going to get more when we run out?”
“I'm heading to that old disco where we went last time. There was a gas station there.”
“That's like a hundred miles away!”
“That's why we started with a full tank. Besides, we'll be there soon.”
Seffy turned her head to watch the passing scenery, unable to deal with the ramifications of his words. Too much had happened for her to make sense of anything right now. She looked at what passed for the sun. It had climbed higher in the sky. How many miles had they traveled? How long had they been gone? Would they be missed?
The rolling snow-capped hills dotted with blue-gray sage brush reminded her a little of the desert outside of L.A. What would it be like in 1980? Would their presence upset some space-time continuum? Would she have to start wearing shoulder pads?
Seffy glared at Trent as the minutes turned to hours. What was Fiona really up to, if anything? Maybe this was some story he'd cooked up to trick her out of the compound. It had certainly worked. She'd barely put up a fight.
Why was she such a pushover where Trent was concerned? How could she leave Gareth?
What have I done?
Seffy closed her eyes and forced her mind from her actions. She focused on the clean air smell, only slightly tainted by dust and exhaust. In California, dust and exhaust was about all she'd smell.
I can't wait.
She snapped her eyes open at the traitorous thought. She'd never considered herself self-centered before, but maybe she'd turned into an unfeeling, forgetful-of-friends monster. Even if she and Trent did make it to California, what would they do? Return to his dumpy little apartment? There was only that one little twin bed. Where would she sleep?
Seffy glanced at him, blaming him that she'd acquiesced so easily. Maybe when they arrived in WeHo, she'd say thanks for the ride and ditch him. There was no reason they had to stay together. None whatsoever.
And the very first thing she'd do is call the compound—what was their number? Did they even have a land line? And then she'd figure out a way for the others to join her. They could get their house back, maybe even their jobs, and aside from some fashion trauma, they could pick up where they'd left off.
She studied Trent's profile. Of course they'd have him over to visit at some point. For old times' sake. They'd laugh about their compound adventures. Well, maybe not laugh. Get drunk to deal, more likely. Seffy wondered if Trent would just fade quietly into the background of her life. She thought of the way he'd pursued her all these months. Then again, she and Gareth would be back together, so Trent wouldn't have much choice.
So yeah, she'd make her choice and deal with it. Just like he said.
The jeep began to lurch harder than before. Seffy grabbed onto to the window ledge. “Why aren't there decent roads out here?”
Trent frowned, staring at the dashboard. “I, uh, don't think it's the road.”
The jeep suddenly lost power and shuddered to a stop. Panic gripped Seffy. “What's wrong?”
He tapped the dials on the dash a couple of time before sending her a chagrined look. “I think we're out of gas.” His attempts to restart the jeep failed.
“Out of gas,” she repeated in a hollow voice.
/>
“The gas gauge must be broken because it said it was on full when we left.”
Seffy twisted in her seat. “Those big metal cans in the back don't hold gasoline?”
“I was going to check that next.” He hopped out of the jeep and picked up the first can with ease. Then the next. He sent her a weak smile. “Funny, I assumed that someone kept these full at all times.”
“Are you serious?”
“Hey, it was a rush job getting the jeep out of there! No time for a hundred point vehicle inspection.”
“The tanks don't even have water in them?”
“They're empty.” Trent replaced the can, disgust warring with humiliation in his voice. “But, assuming the odometer works, we've gone a hundred and thirty three miles, so the gas station should be just over that hill. We'll be back on the road in no time.”
“So there's nothing else in the back that might help.”
“Just a bunch of tarps.”
“Have you looked under them?”
He face darkened.
Seffy tried to control the slow freak-boil threatening to overtake her. “I thought you prepared for the trip.”
He walked over to her side of the jeep and leaned on the door. “I did. I brought you some clothes and your toothbrush.”
She released a shaky breath. “Well, at least my skeleton teeth will be minty fresh.”
“Seffy, it's just a setback. Like I said, we'll be back on the road soon. So sit tight and I'll be back with some gas.”
She gripped the window ledge harder. “No way, you are not leaving me here by myself!”
He pointed his finger. “Just over that hill—less than a mile—is the station. I'll be back in fifteen...twenty minutes tops.”
Seffy clambered from the vehicle, causing Trent to back up as she landed next to him. “I'm coming with you.”
His smile was faint. “Okay.” Trent grabbed one of the cans and they set off.
When he tried to take her hand in his, she edged away from him. “There's no hand-holding on this trip, got it? No hanky panky of any kind.”
He snorted. “Just trying to be comforting.”
Yeah, right. Seffy tried to gulp back the fear rising in her throat. They were so far away from...everything. As they made their way toward the hill, she remembered the interminable trips they took through the desert when zombies were on the loose. Okay, maybe she spoke too quickly about the whole no hand-holding rule. She scanned the vicinity and edged closer to Trent. Visions of her new life in California dissolved before the reality of her latest predicament.
“Do you think all the zombies are gone?”
He shrugged, his attention on the horizon.
“What about evil gnomes?”
“What?”
“Malone seemed to think there could be...you know...never mind.”
“This is why I didn't alert him.”
Seffy looked down at the glittering reddish sand. “Doesn't it seem that by now the sun and sky and sand would be back to normal? I mean we already know that the blast effect is localized around the compound, right?”
Trent sent her a long-suffering look that said she was talking too much. “Hey, you wanted me along,” she muttered.
Seffy returned to fretting about the immense nature of her actions—how could she just leave her friends behind? Would she ever see them again? She opened her mouth to ask Trent but noticed he'd stopped walking. When she followed his gaze, her heart pounded hard in her chest.
Trent released a slow sigh and began trudging toward the gas station just visible in the distance. Also visible was the broken window, lopsided sign, and tall grass surrounding the gas pumps. They had a good fifteen minutes to take in the fact that the station was defunct. Arriving only confirmed the obvious.
Shaking his head, Trent lifted the rusty pump nozzle and squeezed. A bit of sparkly grit coughed its way out of the end into a sad little pile on the broken pavement. He looked at Seffy. “There were people here getting gas last time. I remember.”
She looked next door to the station. The little post office didn't appear to have done much delivering lately. The windows were smashed in. A bird flew out, making them jump. Checking across the street didn't seem necessary. The disco was still boarded up and derelict.
“This is why you let the girl know about travel plans. Everyone complains that they over-prepare, but lemme tell ya, it's a lot better than under-preparing. We make lists, we shop, we Mapquest, we—”
“Sef. I need to think.”
She mashed her lips together, unsure which upset her more—being stranded over a hundred miles from her friends and hot showers or realizing L.A. was more of a pipe dream than ever—decade notwithstanding.
Added to her distress was the reality of a full bladder. Seffy picked her way over rocks and broken glass and peered into the station office. Gas station bathrooms weren't good in the most ideal of circumstances so this one would surely be a humdinger. While Trent communed with his failure, Seffy stepped through the window, looking for a restroom door—preferably the private one for the employees. A smell of grease and gasoline hung in the air and papers littered the floor.
When she saw the hoped-for signage on a narrow door, she made a beeline. Inside could've been worse, but the plumbing seemed to work and that was all that mattered at the moment. After washing her hands and drying them on her velour covered thighs, she went into the office and looked around.
Two shelving units held a leftover assortment of the usual road snacks. Seffy tried the fountain drink machine but it was as dry as the gas nozzle. Next she went to a small refrigerated unit and opened the door. Warm, foul-smelling air blew out, making her gag. She backed up a few steps and held her nose. The shiny metallic gleam of canned soda on the bottom rack caught her eye. They couldn't go bad, could they? She grabbed a couple and headed back to Trent.
As she passed the counter, she stopped. The cash register drawer hung open, still filled with cash. Seffy stared at the money for a long time, fighting a creeping dread. Who left money behind? What had happened to the station?
Outside, she found Trent still messing with the gas tank. “I'm pretty sure it's empty,” she said quietly. Seffy handed him a drink after wiping the top off with her sleeve.
His expression was apologetic as he accepted the can. “I'm not sure what to do here, Sef.”
She stared at her can, noting the dated logo. “Um, I think we should find shelter.”
He looked at her. “We might have to, for the night, until I can figure out our next step.”
“Trent, the cash register is loaded with money. This place didn't just slowly go out of business.”
He straightened and scanned the area. “Let's check all the phones.”
This time Seffy took his hand and held it tight. But in the end, each little hope of help shriveled as they discovered the gas station and post office phones were out of service.
Trent's expression became more tense as the minutes passed. Seffy's frustration with his lack of preparation faded before the specter of being stranded out in the middle of nowhere.
“I can't image the disco would have phone service of any kind, but we might as well check there.”
Seffy followed him across the dusty road. “What do you think happened here? Do you think there were more zombies?”
“No, I'd heard that the compound had completely dealt with that.”
She frowned. “And it's not like zombies run or anything, so there'd be time to grab the cash before escaping, right?”
Trent sent her a sidelong glance. “For someone who used to be in denial about such things, it seems like now you're an expert.”
“Maybe it's the zombie virus in my blood. It's making me more...empathetic.”
He sent her a half smile. “Okay.”
Seffy looked up at the low, crouching discotheque, wondering how it would inspire anyone to dance. Trent pulled on the door handle, and with a horrific screech, the door opened.
/> She gulped. “Um, yeah, the fact that it's not locked doesn't make you a little nervous?”
“It actually saves me the trouble.”
“Well, maybe the bad things are already in there, lying in wait.”
“The only bad thing in a disco is lame music.” He tugged her inside. Seffy looked around the cavernous space with wide eyes. Cracks in the siding allowed sideways shafts of dusty light into the room. The same mirrored ball hung in the center of the room and colored track lighting lined the ceiling, now dark. Dusty vinyl booths took up the far end of the space and a small bar occupied a corner. Most of the mirrored wall tiles were cracked or shattered.
“There must be an office somewhere in the back. Maybe there's a phone.”
Seffy glanced at Trent. “Even if we find a phone, who would you call? Do you even know the number to the compound?”
“I could call information and find out where we are and how to get to the next gas station.” After handing her his soda can to hold, he headed toward a corner door all the way at the back of the room.
She walked over to the bar, set down the cans, and looked around. Money might not have value, but all the booze was gone. A rustling in the back of the bar made her stiffen. Rats? Zombies? Gnomes with evil pointy hats?
“The phone is dead here, too.”
Seffy spun around at the sudden sound of Trent's voice, pressing her hand to her heart. “Don't sneak up on me!”
“Sorry.”
“There's something alive back there.”
“Probably just rats or feral cats.” He pushed up the bar flap and stepped behind it. “No booze,” he said after a moment. “Damn.”
“Exactly.”
“Let's see if there's a different kind of juice.” Trent opened a gray panel on the wall just to the left of the bar shelves. After a series of clicks, suddenly the mirrored ball began to spin and colored lights pulsated overhead. He smiled. “Cool.”
Seffy noticed the floor didn't light up and she didn't see any neon or other lighting. This was more disco-dive than discotheque. “So now what, we boogie the night away?”
“Why not?”
Seffy stared at him, wondering if her crazies were catching. “Get real. We need to figure a way out of here.”