Spore Series | Book 4 | Exist

by Soward, Kenny

  The man’s expression softened, his smile slipping sideways. “That's true,” he admitted with a nod. “All right. I won’t blame you for that.”

  He edged Fiona closer to the weapon. Then he tossed the glass sliver aside and reached for it.

  A rifle fired inside the enclosed space like a cannon. Jessie jumped, and Burke leapt up. He gripped his hand, howling as blood coursed down his arms and between his fingers.

  With a terrified expression, confused by all the noise and cut off from Jessie, Fiona dashed to the service tunnel door. She reached up with her tiny hands, turned the knob, and opened it. Then she slipped through the gap and into the darkness.

  Burke realized he was missing his prize and twisted in a circle. He spied the gap in the door and moved toward it, but Jessie was there. She hit the man with all the force she could muster, tackling him into the rack of broken machines behind him.

  She climbed up him, swinging and punching as rage flowed out of her, stronger than before. Her blows flew wild. Her lips spat, sounds coming out of her she never thought possible. There would be no mistake this time, no one stopping her from ending this man’s life.

  And then someone did.

  Dex gripped her shoulders and pulled her off. “Jessie, stop!”

  “No.” She broke free and started swinging again. Her right arm was useless, but she put all her weight into her left arm trying to knock his head off.

  Burke covered himself with his bloody arms, cowering and sniveling, barely fighting back. Jessie couldn’t finish the job with her knuckles, so she twisted her torso and looked for the pistol.

  Dex gripped her shoulders and firmly pulled her back so she sat on her heels, windmilling her arm for balance.

  Garcia moved past her and pressed his rifle barrel against Burke’s mask, pushing his head down. The man ceased his struggles and lay flat with a groan.

  “We still need him.” Dex knelt next to her, his firm grip growing gentler, his voice soothing the anger in her soul. He glanced up at the ceiling where the sounds of rifle fire peppered the air.

  Jessie nodded and leaned in. “Call them off,” she said. “Call them off or I give Garcia permission to blow your head off.”

  “You still need me.” Burke’s eyes flicked to Dex as if in agreement.

  “Not if you can’t control your people,” Jessie arched an eyebrow. “You’re no good to us then.”

  As if to put an exclamation point on it, Garcia lifted his rifle barrel and tapped it on Burke’s visor. The soldier grinned as if enjoying it. “I heard you’re responsible for getting me sick. So, this would be the easiest decision of my life.”

  Burke studied the man’s face before he gave a resigned sigh. “Back off, Lexi. Just...back off.”

  The rifle fire stopped almost instantly.

  Jessie stood on wobbly legs, her eyes pinned on Burke for a moment before slipping a sideways look at Garcia.

  “That was a risky shot, soldier,” she said.

  He shrugged. “It was only a few yards. Easy.”

  “He’s a Squad Designated Marksman.” Dex’s voice was gruff. “Expert. Right, Garcia?”

  “That’s right,” the soldier replied.

  She focused a hard glare at Burke. “Truss the bastard up. And this time make one-hundred percent sure he can’t get away.”

  After Dex nodded, Jessie returned to the theater room for an electric lantern and went in search of a lost little girl.

  Chapter 27

  Moe, Las Vegas, Nevada

  The big white Peterbilt rumbled along I-15 through the Mojave Desert. The midday sun beat down on them, and the hot highway rolled by beneath their wheels as they devoured the miles between Chinle and Las Vegas.

  Mountains rose in a dark line across the horizon and hugged them like a pair of giant arms. As they crowded in closer on their left, Moe spared them a glance. The rocky rises were marked with striations that ran horizontally, scarred by grooves and weather stains. The bands of rock sometimes angled up or down, evidence of some past upheaval and subsequent wearing that gave Moe a sense of deep time.

  The mountains marked the end of the dry desert and the beginning of something new. They passed the cities of Ute, Crystal, and Dry Lake, squeezing between the two snaking ranges of brown hills and heading down the last stretch into Vegas.

  Surprisingly, Moe watched vehicles pass them going the opposite way, leaving the big city. A half dozen and then a dozen. He stared across the median at them, gaping at the bullet-ridden side panels and doors. Not a single driver glanced his way. They kept their heads craned forward as if they were escaping demons.

  It made Moe wonder if the trip had been worth it. What if Las Vegas was a deadly place? Surely, the spore clouds wouldn’t have reached so far into the desert, though he knew first-hand that the fungi didn’t need wind to spread fear and devastation.

  So, people, then?

  Either way, they hadn’t come so far only to turn back. He didn’t care if an army stood between himself and the vital supplies his people needed. They’d see the task done or die trying.

  They finally reached the city of Arrolime and its vast solar panel fields that covered the desert floor like a carpet.

  The truck chugged past big road signs for hotels and restaurants, all-you-can-eat buffets and fireworks displays. The ads boasted helicopter rides and twenty-four-hour gambling.

  It was Las Vegas, after all.

  Moe glanced inside the truck. Ten or twenty new points of light dotted the cabin where Carver’s people had shot it up. Waki and Aponi lay sleeping on his bunk in back, and Melissa sat in the passenger seat, motionless with her sunglasses perched on her nose.

  Only Moe had escaped injury. Aside from his sister’s head wound, the other two women had received shrapnel nicks from bullets and bruises from the jostling truck. But they’d patched themselves up and settled in for a long haul.

  After fighting off Carver’s people, they’d stopped at the North Rim Camp to add Rex and his pickup truck to the scavenging team. He brought Casey Harvey and a small group of strong workers with him.

  Moe glanced in his rearview mirror to see them cruising fifty yards behind him.

  The first thing Moe had checked once they’d reached the North Rim Camp was his rig’s fuel tanks and tires. He found two bullet dents in the right-hand tank, which could have been devastating had they pierced it. The thick tires had some glancing marks but were otherwise unharmed.

  Bullet holes scored the hood, though he’d found no damage to the engine aside from ricochet scars. The big Paccar 12.9 liter was tough and could take a beating. The belts were fine, and the fluid lines appeared undamaged.

  “Do you want to refuel here?” Captain Bryant said, her sudden quiet tone startling Moe from his thoughts. “It’s a Loman’s Travel Stop.”

  “Yes, actually,” Moe replied. “Not only do we need gas, but I can pick up a trailer, too.”

  Melissa nodded as Moe turned on his signal for Rex to indicate they were getting off. The man waved to him that he’d received the message.

  He pulled the rig off the exit ramp and swung to the right onto Highway 93. It connected them straight to the Loman’s.

  “Rise and shine, ladies,” Melissa said. She reached back and shook the other two women awake.

  Aponi rose immediately and pressed her face between the seats to see where Moe was going. Her long, silken hair fell over her shoulders and brushed the floor.

  “Come on, Waki,” Moe called back after his sister’s grunted response. “Wake up, girl.”

  She grumbled and rose from the mattress, looking around in a daze. She placed her hand to the patch on her head and winced.

  “It won’t hurt if you don’t think about it,” Moe grinned.

  “Very funny, big brother,” she said. Then she accepted a bottled water from Aponi, twisted the top off, and took a long drink. “Where are we?”

  “We’re in Arrolime, just outside Vegas,” he told her. “We’re going to refuel
and try to grab a trailer. Look alive. Be sharp. There could be people here.”

  Highway 93 guided them between a section of storage buildings and the truck stop. Moe pulled the rig to a stop and looked around.

  The storage units sat off to the right, the Loman’s on their left. The latter was a huge facility with modern truck washes, power hook ups, and a repair shop in the back. The lot lay mostly deserted, though Moe spotted some rigs and unhooked trailers sitting around abandoned.

  The main building was a mini-mart, although “mini” wasn’t the right word. It stretched as wide as a full-fledged grocery store. Signs in front boasted showers, dressing rooms, sleeping quarters, and even a workout facility. A pizza place and sandwich shop clung to the side.

  There were no cars in the lot, and no signs of people. It appeared deserted.

  “What do you think?” he asked Melissa.

  The soldier’s eyes searched the lot from behind her sunglasses. Finally, she pulled her rifle out from between her legs. “Let’s find an empty trailer.”

  Moe nodded and eased his rig past the mini-mart and into the third entrance, followed by Rex in his pickup. The rest of the crew sat stiffly in the truck bed, holding their rifles at the ready.

  He angled toward the back of the lot to what he hoped was an empty trailer.

  “This one,” he said.

  Melissa nodded and motioned for the ladies to join her outside. Aponi and Waki filed out the passenger side door, rifles in hand.

  “I should have brought my sunglasses,” his sister complained to no one in particular.

  Moe grinned nervously before he snatched his own sunglasses from his sun visor, popped open his door, and climbed out into the midday sun. He stood there, blinking behind his dark lenses. He didn’t envy his sister, because the brightness was nearly unbearable.

  He stretched his legs and rotated his feet one at a time as he walked around the truck to join the ladies on the other side. His ankle felt pretty good, all things considered.

  Rex pulled up next to them, and his people leaped down from the pickup bed. They stretched and looked tired after the long journey. It had to have been hell laying in the back for hours on end with the wind whipping them to death.

  Moe recognized two kids from the Chinle basketball team, and he approached them. “Hello, Josiah. Tyler.”

  The short basketball team captain nodded with a straight expression. He seemed to have aged five years since working at the triage unit. “Hey, Moe.”

  “It was dark back at the North Rim Camp,” Moe apologized. “I didn’t see you or I would have welcomed you aboard.”

  It was sobering seeing such young men armed with rifles amongst the other hardened people. Aside from the two basketball players and Melissa’s pair of soldiers, they had Johnny Windwalker and Ron Stone from Chinle.

  Twelve in total to make the Las Vegas Run

  “That’s okay,” Josiah said. “We had to beg the elders to let us come. They tried to keep us in the basin, saying we were too young to fight.”

  “Normally, I would agree. But necessity makes it so.”

  Rex and Casey strolled up as Captain Bryant began issuing orders.

  Moe bumped fists with them. Then he looked Casey up and down, noting how she dressed. She wore rugged jeans, boots, and a shirt and vest. Like the others, she carried a pistol on her hip and a rifle in her hands.

  “I see you traded in your waitress uniform,” Moe smiled.

  “Hard to shoot in one,” she winked. The woman wore her long hair pinned back out of her face.

  “It suits you,” he nodded. “Be careful, okay?”

  “You too.”

  Melissa shouted orders, and Rex grabbed Casey and pulled her away. “Gotta go, Moe. Get that trailer hooked up, huh?”

  Moe nodded and waved them off. The two basketball players jogged off with them, and the group of eleven spread out across the parking lot in a protective line.

  Rex motioned for five of them to follow him to a rig situated forty yards from the mini-mart. Captain Bryant took the other four and picked their way toward the store at a more casual pace.

  Left alone, Moe hobbled to the trailer’s rear and saw the doors hung partway open. He grabbed an edge and threw it wide, peering inside to see all the way to the back. It was empty. He imagined what it might look like after they filled it with food and supplies to bring home.

  It gave urgency to his movements.

  Moe slammed the doors shut and threw the bolts to seal them. Then he limped to the driver’s side and climbed into his seat. He glanced out at the dirt and scrub spread around the lot, noting there weren’t many places to hide out there.

  He pulled his rig in front of the trailer and reversed it until his fifth wheel lined up with the kingpin. Once he felt the slight jar of it knocking against the rig’s suspension, he set the brake and climbed down.

  At the hitch section, he peered beneath to see that he’d lined it up almost perfectly. He grabbed the landing gear crank and wound it down until the trailer settled into place.

  The radio on Moe’s belt crackled to life as Rex and Melissa’s teams searched the lot.

  “We’re checking the two rigs on this side,” Melissa said.

  Rex replied. “Roger. Moving up to the National Alliance trailer in the center of the lot. Cover us, please.”

  “Got you.”

  Moe secured the trailer connection, locked it in place, and finished raising the landing gear off the pavement. Then he hooked up the electric lines and limped back to the driver’s seat.

  “The rigs are clean,” Melissa said. “Just some clothes and rotten food. Moving up to the store. We’ll approach it from behind and work our way around the right side.”

  “I hear you,” Rex replied.

  Moe sat inside his truck as it idled beneath him. He plucked his radio off his belt and held it ready. His eyes slid from one side mirror to the other, catching Melissa’s team jogging toward the store, spread out. Josiah and Tyler were in her group.

  Beads of sweat formed on Moe’s scalp, and he reached up to scratch it. Trickles jetted down his temples and cheeks, making his skin itch. He brought his forearm up and dragged it across his face, wiping the nagging moisture free.

  Melissa’s team moved past a picnic bench and disappeared around the store’s back corner, but the building was angled so he couldn’t see them. A long moment passed where Moe considered breaking radio silence to ask what was wrong.

  “Okay, we’re at the front right corner,” Melissa’s voice cracked the stillness. “Moe, how are you doing?”

  He lifted the radio to his lips. “I’ve got the trailer hitched. I’m ready to go.”

  “Good. Rex, bring your people on up.”

  Moe shifted his eyes to his right mirror and caught Rex, Casey, and four others sprint to the left side of the store and throw themselves against the wall with their rifles pointed up.

  “We’re in position,” Rex replied.

  “I’m going to take a look,” Melissa said.

  Moe tapped on his leg. He wanted to put the truck in gear and swing around to the front and help, but the captain could handle the job without him. Especially with a pair of trained soldiers at her disposal.

  He hoped they didn’t run into any trouble for the boys’ sake.

  “Just as I suspected,” Melissa said. “There’s been a firefight. Some front windows have been shot out. Debris on the floor. Blood. Four, scratch that, six bodies around the entrance area and in the aisles. It appears they tried to enter the store and were fired upon.” She paused, and then, “We’re moving in.”

  “Damn.” Moe stiffened in his seat and bit his lip. He raised the radio to his lips. “Can you tell how long ago it happened?”

  “The bodies are in an advanced state of decay. Crawling with insects. Flies. I’d say they’ve been here several days.”

  “I’m coming around,” Moe said.

  “Negative, Moe.” The captain’s tone was firm. “We’r
e clearing the place. Proceed at my command and only my command.”

  Moe slammed his palm on the steering wheel and shook his head. He gave his rig a little gas, and the engine swelled to an ambling grumble.

  Five minutes passed, and then ten. The radio silence hung in the air ominously, and all Moe could think about was a probable ambush. Still, his common sense told him anyone setting up camp in the store would have removed the dead people and boarded up the windows.

  “No one’s in there,” Moe whispered to himself, wishing it true, yet he sat tense and hot in anticipation of gunfire.

  “Okay, the place is clear,” the captain finally said. “Rex, bring your people inside. Moe pull around to the pumps and start refueling.”

  He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until his lungs deflated in a long rush of air. Shaking his head with a nervous chuckle, Moe put his rig into gear and drove it in a wide arc through the parking lot. He swung it around to the diesel pumps, put it in neutral, and engaged his emergency brakes.

  Leaving the rig idling, he hopped down and faced the pump. His jaw dropped open. He didn’t expect to see the numbers on the display. The computer screen in front prompted him to “insert your card” or “pay inside.”

  “Well, I’ll be...” He moved around the pump in a fast hobble, nearly running over Josiah in the process.

  The team captain jerked back and held out a hand to steady the truck driver. “We’re assigned to guard the rig,” he said, his chest slightly puffed out. “Is that cool?”

  “More than cool,” Moe nodded, hobbling past them. “I’m going inside to enable this pump. It’s actually on and working.”

  “Everything’s working,” Josiah called.

  Moe quickened his pace, approaching Rex and Casey’s team milling around the storefront. His eyes slid over the busted front windows and glass shattered everywhere. The sun danced off the shards, making the floor seem like it was covered with diamonds.

  He smelled the corpses long before he entered, and its heavy putrid weight only grew more powerful as he approached. The disgusted look on Casey’s face told him all he needed to know.