by R. Chauncey
The road had apparently been built, probably in the early part of the century, just to keep a few people in Eureka employed. The waste of taxpayer money probably kept the local politicians in office.
Derrick stopped next to her, lowered the passenger’s window, and asked, “Everything ready?”
“Yes, Leader,” she said, leaning over and looking through the window with no expression on her face.
“I heard on the radio there’s bad weather approaching.” he said.
“None has come here,” she answered.
“Are you sure?” he asked her.
“The storm is coming out of the northwest, Leader,” she said. “It will by passed Nevada. Only the cold winds from the storm will reach us.”
But Derrick still hated being away from his home in Big Sur.
“You’ve arranged quarters for me?”
“Yes, Leader, follow me, Leader,” she said, straightening up and turning to her left and walking down a dirt road that lead off the paved road.
He waited until she was fifty feet in front of him then followed her. Not caring how the $700,000 Bentley faired on the dirt road. He was rich enough to afford a dozen Bentleys twice as expensive.
He followed Dorothy on the dirt road till it turned to the right where it was hidden from view by thick, dirty looking desert plants.
Half a mile later she stepped off to the left of the road and pointed to what looked like an oversize sixteen wheeler.
He stopped and stared at it for a few seconds before he shook his head in disgust.
I’m to live in a damn truck until this mess is over, he thought with a feeling of uncleanliness coming over him. I’ll be damned if I drink beer like some dumb truck driver.
The multimillion dollar story and a half sixty foot long twenty wheel mobile camper waiting for him ten miles outside of Eureka would have impressed others, but it was just a filthy little mobile metal cabin mounted on twenty oversize tires as far as he was concerned, and far below the standard of living he was accustom to. Hidden between two dirty one hundred foot boulder dominated hills next to a running stream a lot of dirty smelly animals drank from and pissed in while they were drinking.
What a filthy place for me to have to live in.
He parked next to the oversize camper and got out of the Bentley. “Is this mine?”
“Yes, Leader,” she said. She didn’t care if he liked it or not. The expression on Derrick’s face told her he didn’t.
“Must I share?” he asked in a flat unpleasant voice.
“No, Leader, this is just for you,” she said. She told him, while pointing in the direction, where she and Painter and Charles would stay. “Lester and Charlie have their own camper on the other side of this hill to the right. I have the camper on the other side of the hill to the left.”
Thank God he didn’t have to share the damned metal mobile cabin with Lester Painter and his helper Charles Daniels, or Dorothy. At least all three would be close in case he needed them.
“I made contact with Lester and Charlie as soon as I arrived,” she explained. “They were waiting near a mountain now far from here when I arrived. They didn’t explain why they were there, or why they had a camper to the right of this hill.”
“Is there a place behind this metal cabin for my Bentley?” he asked, ignoring her explanation and getting back into the Bentley. It wasn’t necessary to tell her why they were waiting in front of the mountain. What was in it was none of her business anyway, but he knew she probably knew the Society information center was somewhere in these mountains and hills.
“Right behind it, Leader,” she said. “I will lead you.”
She walked behind the camper and stopped a few yards away from it.
Derrick drove around behind the camper and parked the Bentley under a metal lean-to connected to the side of the camper, turned off the engine, and got out. “When will the others arrive?”
“I don’t know, Leader. But your wait shouldn’t be more than two days at the most.”
That didn’t make him happy. He walked toward the back door of the camper. “I hope this thing is comfortable,” he said. He opened the door, entered the camper and explored it for ten minutes without asking Dorothy inside. He walked back to the door, and looked out at Dorothy. “It’ll do till the operation is complete.”
“Do you wish to meet with Lester and Charlie?” she asked, looking up at him.
“Not until it begins,” he said. Then closed the door in her face and walked back into the camper.
Dorothy walked to her camper. Her face was a complete blank. She entered her camper, and using her com-cell called Lester and Charlie to her camper.
When they entered she offered them a coke, and told them, “The Leader will meet with you when it is time to begin the operation. Until then you are not to speak to him, or disturb him even if you see him walking around outside.”
“Snobbish fuck, huh?” Charlie said.
Dorothy looked up at the medium height, sandy haired handsome young man and said, “The Leader is not a snobbish fuck. And you will never refer to him as such again.” She looked at Painter and said, “You will both address him as Leader if he speaks to you.
Otherwise you keep your mouths shut.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they both replied.
“What do we do?” Lester asked.
“Wait.”
“For what,” Charlie asked.
“When the time is ready, you’ll be informed,” she said, looking at Charlie with admiring eyes.
Lester caught the look. “Okay,” he said, turning toward the door. “I’ll be in my camper.” He left.
Dorothy looked at Charlie and asked, “I don’t expect the Leader to bother me for a few hours. Wanna fuck me?”
“Yeah,” he said as a big grin passing over his face.
*
Derrick carefully looked around his camper, hating everything he saw in the luxurious camper. He looked in the refrigerator and saw two dozen cans of coke.
Now I’m to be forced to drinking coke like some disgusting yokel .
He opened the freezer compartment of the refrigerator and saw thirty frozen dinners. Oh, God!
He closed the refrigerator and looked in a small refrigerator like box and saw it was filled with the best wines money can buy. Thank God. I can wash down the TV dinners with a decent bottle of wine. He closed the door of the wine cabinet and walked to the small living room and looked at the TV screen hanging on the wall. He wasn’t impressed. He looked at the table where a remote control device lay and noticed it had cable written next to one of the buttons. I do hope I can get cable in these damn hills. Then he walked to the door leading outside and went to the Bentley and got his suitcase. He had packed enough clothing and underwear and socks for ten days. He carried the suitcase back to the camper hoping he wouldn’t be in the camper long enough to start doing his own laundry.
***
Chapter 27
January 8, 10:45 a.m.
Karl had listened carefully to what Betty told him about Dodge’s idea and agreed Dodge’s plan might be right.
“Dodge has got a point,” he said. “You and he may be able to set up an ambush on them.”
“You want us to pick a place and ambush them?” she asked him.
“Let me think,” he told her. Done and her accomplice left Westport ahead of Betty and Dodge, but Dodge and Betty flew to the Ames Hotel and that’s not too far from Albuquerque and got on the road within a few hours putting them maybe two hundred or more miles ahead of Done and her accomplice. Ambushing and killing them and ge
tting back the flash drive they obviously have would make Derrick happy, and give me more time to prepare for Derrick’s move against me.
He was glad he’d chosen Dodge. The guy used his brains for something else other than just killing. He was the type of soldier who’d think out every move before he made the move thus reducing his chances of failure. It was a good quality for a soldier to have in the field, but thinking was also a bad quality for a soldier to have in an organization like the Society where blind obedience was the only thing the leaders and Council of Twenty expected from the Society’s soldiers.
A thinking soldier like Dodge might think one day, ‘who the fuck needs the leaders and Council of Twenty?’ Once a soldier began to think like that it was only a matter of time before the soldier would start making plans to get rid of the leaders, the Council of Twenty, and maybe even the Society. But so far Dodge had shown no such tendencies, and there was nothing in his past that indicated he ever would. He was a thinker, but his loyalty was above question.
“If you and Dodge can manage to identify this Highlander they’re driving, and can set up an ambush, do it,” he told Betty. “But make damn sure it’s them, I don’t want any innocent bystanders being killed, and you’ve got maybe twelve to twenty-four hours. The time I figure it’ll take them to reach Nevada’s eastern border in this weather if they avoid major roads, and they probably will. And they won’t be traveling fast to avoid attracting attention. If you haven’t killed them within twenty-four hours, come to the coordinates I’ve given you.”
“Yes, sir,” Betty replied and turned off her com-cell.
“What did he say?” Dodge asked her.
“He agreed with your plan, but gave us only twenty-four hours. The time he thinks it’ll take Marajo and her friend to reach Nevada’s eastern border.”
“Good,” he said. “We’ve been on the road almost ten hours. That gives us a little over twelve hours to figure out where they are and set up an ambush.”
She looked at the serious expression on his face. “What are you thinking?” she asked.
“We’re ahead of them by miles. Maybe as much as four or five hundred miles, but they’ve been on the road for maybe ten or fifteen hours, but they’re going slow.”
“So?”
“So let’s find a spot where we can ambush them,” he said.
“Sounds good,” she said.
“Bring up a map on the computer,” he told her.
“Why?” she asked as she opened the compartment that held the computer.
“We may be able to find out what road they’re on,” he said.
“How we gonna do that?”
“I figure they’re using only side roads. Like us,” he said. “And there aren’t too many that aren’t snowed in. And I’ll bet -”
“The state police in every state has those roads listed on their traffic computers,” Betty finished. She started the computer.
Dodge increased speed.
“Careful now,” she warned. “We get into an accident and we might as well get killed.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “The Society doesn’t like failure, even if it’s the result of an accident.”
Betty started working on the computer. After half an hour she said, “We’ve got to make it to route US 80.”
“Why?”
“I fed those coordinates Karl gave us into the computer.”
“What!” he exclaimed angrily. “You know Karl ain’t gonna like that?”
“That was the only thing I could do, if you expect to intercept this Highlander.”
“Explain.”
“I figure they’re paralleling US 80 on side roads. Because route 80 runs close to those coordinates. It’s a little over a hundred miles north of US 80. And those coordinates are in Eureka County in Nevada.”
“Okay,” he said.
“There’s only one state road that’s safe enough to drive on through Kansas, Colorado, and Utah. Route 29. It parallels US 70.”
“US 70?”
“US 70 connects with US 15 south of Salt Lake City which they will have to use to bypass to get to US 80.”
“Why would they by-pass Salt Lake City?” he asked.
“Think, Dodge,” she said. “How hard would it be for us to access city traffic cameras?
“So they’re going to avoid Salt Lake City,” he said, understanding her.
“If we can beat them to the Utah-Nevada border, we can ambush them on 29 in an isolated area on 29.”
“What‘s the terrain like?”
“Hilly and woody with a lot of snow.”
“How far are we from there?”
“Get on US 25, avoid Denver, and go like hell on routes 25 and 15 till we reach 80 then to the Utah-Nevada border. With this storm coming, I don’t think there will be too many cars or trucks on 25, 15, or 80. And especially not on route 29 it’s a small two lane road. Any state police out will be helping stranded drivers.”
“Where are we now?” he asked.
“About 10 miles south of Pueblo, Colorado.”
“Can that computer jam any police speed radar?”
“Piece of pie,” she said.
“Cake,” he said, correcting her.
“I like pie.”
***
Chapter 28
January 8, 12:20 p.m.
They had driven in silence for over two hours.
“Where are we now?” Larson asked Marajo.
Small snowflakes were falling. Floating to the ground in the windless air like small paper planes.
“Approaching Denver,” she said. “It’s about ten miles west of us.”
“That means we’re getting closer to the Society’s information center and the fire fight we can expect when we get there,” he said, feeling warm and comfortable and knowing the small, floating flakes would soon be replaced by larger ones and a strong wind. He wondered why he was more concerned with the weather than what was waiting for them. Whatever the reason, it’s nice to get my mind off the Society for a few minutes.
“Yes.” Marajo’ voice was flat and emotionless. There was no reason for emotions since they couldn’t avoid what was waiting for them and emotions wouldn’t change anything. What they needed to survive what was ahead of them was cold, emotionless logic.
“Then I suggest we stop somewhere so I can refresh myself with the use of firearms,” he told her.
“We’ll stop at a truck stop west of Denver for something to eat. Then find a nice quiet spot away from where people might be and let you fire a few rounds.”
“Truck stop?” he asked. “Isn’t that rather dangerous? Those places have cameras attached to computers which the Society can access.”
“Yes, but I’m hoping they’re still trying to find out who you are?”
“And suppose they aren’t? Suppose they’ve learned about this Highlander of yours? It’s not the sort of vehicle one would expect a woman in her fifties to have in her garage, you know?”
“You don’t want a hot meal?” she asked him. “It may be the last one you’ll have in a few days.”
Larson thought for a few seconds and said, “Okay, but it may also be the last hot meal of our lives.”
“So we take a chance and get a hot meal,” Marajo said. “And pray it’s not our last one.”
“Park somewhere that’ll make it hard for cameras to see this Highlander,” he suggested.
“Somewhere on the side of the road leading to the truck stop,” she agreed, “Under some trees. It’ll mean we’ll have a long walk to t
he truck stop.”
“Better a long walk than cameras recording this Highlander,” he said. “Cameras the Society’s computer people can access. And you can bet they’ve got them on their computers checking every camera, public or private, that shows vehicles of any kind.”
“Well, do,” Marajo said.
“Let’s not forget a few tin cans to use as targets.”
“Good idea,” she agreed. “I didn’t bring any target sheets. Didn’t think I’d need them.”
“Pull over and let me drive for a while,” he said. “You look tired.”
She nodded, slowed down, and came to a stop. She opened the driver’s door, and turned around and grabbed a small blue bag from the seat behind her. “My bladder is about to burst.” she said as she got out and ran to a secluded spot among snow covered bushes.
Larson got out of the Highlander and took the opportunity to stretch his legs and relieve himself, too. The problem with living a comfortable life in a city is one gets use to the modern conveniences, he thought as he looked around at the open, snow covered country. It would be terrible to have to return to a life in the wild.
Ten minutes later after they had cleaned up, they were back on the road. Half an hour later they were pulling into a grove of snow covered trees off the side of the road.
They got out and walked the hundred yards to the crowded truck stop, looking like two travelers and hoping there were no security cameras the Society could access, and knowing there were probably a few around somewhere. Two hours later with full stomachs they were back on the road in the Highlander.
Route 29 was nearly empty of cars and trucks. Apparently everyone was headed to shelter to avoid the snow storm that had now grown in intensity. The small snowflakes had been replaced by a steady down pour of larger snowflakes that had reduced visibility to less than a hundred yards.