As welcome as that knowledge is, I’m pretty sure it’s not what Dad and Lieutenant Gregerson were talking about that we’re supposed to enjoy so much. My guess is confirmed when the lieutenant leads us past the rows of machines without pausing at all. We walk all the way across the huge room to the back wall, where we stop outside the entrance to the men’s and women’s locker rooms.
“The showers are still working,” Lieutenant Gregerson tells us. “Hot water and everything. There’s even some soap and towels.”
I almost can’t believe my ears. A hot shower! After two weeks where I washed only twice in cold streams, this is a luxury almost beyond description.
“Are you sure it’s safe,” Radar asks. “What if the hot water uses electricity? The showers might be far enough away from where that Anomaly occurred to trigger another one.”
“Not to worry,” the lieutenant replies. “We checked. The water’s solar heated and the system is a passive one. There’s nothing electrical about it.”
Now we know why the patrol took longer than usual to scout the building—they were checking to make sure the showers were safe to use. Since our District depends so heavily on solar energy, pretty much everyone knows something about the technology. A passive systems means no electricity is used to move the hot water from the rooftop panels into the hot water tanks. Gravity and convection do the trick.
“That’s all I need to hear,” Sneak says, moving toward the opening to the men’s locker room.
“Enjoy, everyone,” Lieutenant Gregerson says. “Try to leave some hot water for the rest of us, please.”
Plush, Doc, Radar and I head into the women’s locker, while the guys duck into the men’s. A couple of Marines go in with them to shower as well. Once the girls and I are done, the soldiers will be able to use our room, too.
The locker room is as big and as nicely appointed as the rest of the place. We move past a wall of metal lockers, most of them empty, but some with combination locks still holding them shut. I wonder what kind of goodies the owners might have left inside, but I’m not tempted to stop and try to find out. The lure of a hot shower is pulling all of us all deeper into the room.
The showers are in the back, a row of ten stalls separated by six-foot high metal panels. Across from the stalls, as Lieutenant Gregerson promised, are shelves lined with piles of white towels. Bars of soap sit on a smaller shelf above the towels. I’m not sure why the towels and soap weren’t scavenged long ago—perhaps once the Anomaly happened, people shied away from venturing inside. I don’t really care why—I’m just happy the stuff is here.
The exposed side of the top towel in each pile is covered in gray dust, but the towels beneath should be just fine. We all start peeling off our grimy clothes, then grab a bar of soap and step into the stalls.
The hot water feels delicious as it streams over my head and runs down my body. I take a moment to luxuriate in the wonderful, rejuvenating feeling, but then remember the lieutenant’s admonition to save some hot water for the Marines. Reluctantly, I grab the soap and begin lathering up my body. Washing the sweat and grime from my skin feels equally as good as letting the hot water massage me. There’s no shampoo, so once I’ve cleaned the rest of me, I use the soap to wash my hair. Once I’ve rinsed the soap suds out of my hair, I regretfully turn off the water and reach for a towel.
I’d give almost anything for a brush or a comb, but that’s not going to happen, so I do the best I can smoothing the tangles out of my hair with my fingers. Once again, I’m thankful my hair is reasonably short and manageable.
Slipping back into dirty clothes after getting so clean is not the best option, but it’s really the only one available. I’m tempted to rinse my clothes out in the shower, but there’s no way they would be dry by tomorrow morning. Besides, I don’t think I’m ready to hang out wrapped in only a towel with a bunch of Marines. For a fleeting moment I wonder what Kai’s reaction might be to finding me dressed like that, but then I chase the thought way. Still, I feel my cheeks beginning to flush at the idea.
My friends are all smiles as they dry off and get dressed. They look as happy and refreshed as I feel.
“That was totally delicious,” Radar gushes.
“I almost feel human again,” Doc adds as she lifts her long, damp hair away from her neck.
I watch her jealously. Her silky black tresses don’t seem to have a single snarl in them.
When we get back out into the main exercise room, another pleasant surprise awaits us. A Marine has discovered a bunch of rolled-up rubber yoga mats in a storeroom, so we won’t have to sleep on the hard floor tonight.
A hot shower AND cushioned pads to sleep on—what more could a girl ask for? It’s hard to imagine how things could get much better. Well, maybe a bit of chocolate or some chips might do the trick, but I’m certainly not about to complain. Unless something unexpected occurs—always a possibility—this is going to be one very comfortable and relaxing night.
CHAPTER 33
NOTHING UNEXPECTED OCCURS, so the next morning we’re back on our way, same as every day. As Santa Cruz falls behind us, the highway starts to become much more like it was during the first part of our trip, though not so high above the ocean, which is frequently visible through gaps in the trees and hillocks to the west.
We can also see a wall of heavy gray clouds looming on the horizon. The dark clouds look like the front edge of an approaching storm. The wind has freshened from the northwest as well, another sign that the good weather we’ve enjoyed so far may be about to change. Other than to make sure our plastic rain ponchos are near the top of our packs for quick availability, there’s nothing we can do about it, so we trudge resolutely northward.
If we continue at our present pace, Dad says we’ll arrive in San Francisco in three more days. That will give us two days to spare, which is just about ideal. We’ll have time to scout the area and try to figure out a plan, but we won’t be exposing ourselves to possible dangers by hanging around there too long. Since none of us—not even Kai—have any idea what to expect when we get there, all we can do is try to reach our destination safely and then play it by ear.
The rain arrives shortly after noon. It begins slowly, with large, scattered drops splattering down upon the asphalt. As the first few drops wet our heads and faces, we scramble to don our lightweight ponchos.
In just a few minutes, the full fury of the storm is upon us. Pouring rain driven at an angle by the gusting winds pounds against our bodies. Nobody has an umbrella, of course, but it doesn’t matter—this is the kind of storm that turns umbrellas inside out. The ponchos keep our clothes dry, except for the bottoms of our pant legs. There’s little protection for our heads, though, because the strong wind in our faces makes it nearly impossible to keep our loose-fitting hoods in place. In a matter of minutes, our hair and heads are soaked by the cold rain. As I bend my neck and push forward into the wall of rain, yesterday afternoon’s wonderful hot shower is becoming a rapidly fading memory.
Not long after the rain starts, Kai shows up at my side, returned once again from scouting our perimeter. He’s got no rain gear so he’s soaking wet, but he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. Indeed, he doesn’t even look like he’s noticed it.
“I like this weather,” he says, seemingly in response to my thoughts. “I hope it stays this way all the way to San Francisco.”
I look at him like he’s lost his mind. “Are you crazy? Why would you want it to stay wet and cold like this? And while we’re on the subject, how is it that you don’t even seem to feel the wet and the cold?”
“Oh, I feel it,” Kai replies. He shrugs. “But I can’t do anything about it, so I just ignore it. As to your first question, the answer is really very simple. I like this weather because it makes hunting difficult. The rain reduces visibility and washes away your human scents. These winds make flying a challenge, so there’s less danger from above to worry about as well.”
Everything he says makes sense. Suddenly,
the weather doesn’t seem so bad after all. I’d much rather have water pelting us from the sky than wyverns.
“I hadn’t thought about any of that,” I admit.
“There’s no reason you should. But it’s my job to protect you. I take my responsibility seriously, so I pay attention to anything that affects my job, be it good or bad.”
I’ve known that from the start, but it’s nice to hear. Without really thinking, I rest my hand lightly upon his shoulder for a moment.
“You’ve been doing a really good job of it so far,” I say. “So thanks. None of us would have gotten this far—especially me—without you.”
Kai glances down at my hand on his shoulder and smiles. “Well, it certainly hasn’t been boring, I’ll say that,” he replies.
I’m not exactly sure what to make of his response. I lift my hand away before it starts to get awkward, touching him like that. Turning my head to the left, I check to see if Radar has been following any of this. She gives me a big wink and a discreet “thumbs up.” Of course she has.
Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything. With Kai’s acute hearing, he’ll overhear anything she says, even if she whispers. And that’s about the last thing I need right now.
Still, I can’t help wondering what Kai really thinks about me. Is he enjoying himself merely for the adventure of the journey, or does he take at least some small pleasure in my company, too? I hope he doesn’t think of me as some kind of a burden, as a helpless human he has to keep alive. But that’s pretty much what I’ve been ever since he met me—helpless. Not for the first time, I wish I had some kind of Power so I could contribute to all this in a more positive way. Most of my friends have had a chance to use their Power, so Kai knows they’re anything but ordinary. So far, though, that’s exactly what I’ve been—completely and utterly ordinary.
The closest I’ve come to being useful was sticking my spear into that wyvern’s throat, but it was Kai who killed the creature. I’m not sure how much damage my spear would have done had Kai not been beside me with his sword. At least I tried, and I didn’t faint or scream in terror. That should count for something, anyhow.
I sigh. I know I have a lot more important things I should be worrying about, but it’s a long walk with nothing else to do.
CHAPTER 34
THE STORM LASTS for the better part of two days—two very wet, cold and miserable days. Walking twenty miles a day into a driving rainstorm is not something I’d recommend to anybody. They’re safe days, though, as Kai had predicted. We see no sign of any enemies—unlike us, the hunters seem to be smart enough to stay out of the rain. The closer we get to San Francisco, the more evidence we see of past Anomalies, until we’re passing a damaged area almost every hour or so. Radar tells us that most of them are pretty old, but a couple opened up in the past few weeks, and one occurred just two days before we come upon it.
There’s no way to know what came through that most recent portal. The pounding rain has washed away all traces, and Radar’s Power doesn’t tell her what passed through, only if something entered our world when the Anomaly opened. Radar confirms that something did indeed come through.
Even Kai can’t tell anything because of the storm. We keep an even sharper eye out than usual for any threats, but see nothing. Whatever entered our world through the portal, they or it don’t seem to be around any longer. Still, it’s a good reminder to all of us that the danger is increasing the nearer we draw to Alcatraz.
The land around the highway is becoming more and more developed again, though all the buildings appear to be long deserted. We spend the second night in an old supermarket on the northern edge of a small town called Pacifica. We’re only a few miles from the southern border of San Francisco and less than fifteen miles from the entrance to the Golden Gate Bridge, from where we expect to get our first glimpse of Alcatraz.
The town looks like it had once been a fairly charming place, with lots of greenery and steep hillsides covered with homes that boasted ocean views. Damaged, deserted and in varying states of disrepair, there’s not much charming about the town any longer.
The market is a different story. It’s also in a bad state of disrepair, but it’s the first store we’ve found that hasn’t been completely looted. Nearly a third of the shelves still contain cans, boxes and bags of various foodstuffs. Dad surmises that the proximity to The Incident and its deadly aftermath sent the populace fleeing before they could fully empty the market of its goods.
Whatever the reason, we’ve now got a choice of items that a few days ago would have been beyond our imaginations. We need to be careful to avoid anything that could have spoiled, since everything is well beyond its expiration date. There are still some things that should be edible, though.
Sneak is the first to grab something, pulling a package of Twinkies from a shelf.
“I read somewhere these things have a shelf life of around a thousand years,” he says as he tears the plastic open and pops the end of a Twinkie into his mouth with no hesitation.
We watch as he chews his treat, half expecting him to keel over or at least grab his stomach. Instead, a big smile appears on his face after he swallows.
“It’s a little dry,” he tells us, “but it’s freaking delicious.” He shoves another piece into his mouth.
Twinkies it is, we decide. Each of us Miracles grabs a package for ourselves and begins to eat. Sneak is right—after what we’ve been subsisting on, they do taste pretty delicious, especially the sweet cream filling. It’s a fitting celebration for the end of the storm and having almost reached our destination.
A few Marines follow our example in the pastry section, while others scour the aisles for different items that are still edible. The best find as far as they’re concerned is a case of champagne. They dutifully bring it to my dad, along with a bag of red plastic cups and several bags of chips.
Dad takes out a bottle and studies the label. “This is pretty good stuff,” he says. “Is there any more booze back there?”
“No, Sir,” one of the men replies.
He turns to Lieutenant Gregerson. “Lieutenant, go check out the booze aisle and make sure. Bring anything you find back here.”
“You got it, Sir.” The lieutenant strides away to complete his mission.
I notice that a number of the Marines are looking at Dad anxiously.
“This is a bit premature,” Dad says, “but it’s been a long journey. There’s half a cup for everyone who wants one, to celebrate making it this far.” He grins. “I’m pouring, so there’ll be no mistakes.”
Several of his men laugh. Dad unwraps the foil from top of the bottle and then works the cork out. The resounding “pop” shows that the champagne hasn’t lost its edge.
Dad hands bottles to several of the nearest men. “Pop ‘em open, guys, but no drinking.”
Dad begins pouring from his bottle as a half-dozen pops echo through the store.
Lieutenant Gregerson returns just as the last few Marines are being served. He’s got a bottle of whiskey in one hand, but nothing else.
“This is all I could find,” he says. “It was way back on a top shelf, which is how it got overlooked, I guess.”
Dad takes the whiskey and places it into the champagne case. He holds a half-full bottle of champagne out to Lieutenant Gregerson.
“Lieutenant, care for a drink?”
Smiling, Gregerson grabs a cup. “Don’t mind if I do, Sir.”
Dad pours him some champagne and then turns to us Miracles. “A quarter cup for any of you kiddos who want one. You’re not used to alcohol, and I don’t want it going to your heads. Any takers?”
The last word is barely out of Dad’s mouth when Sneak jumps in front of him, holding out a cup.
“Me,” he says. “For sure.”
The rest of us line up behind him, ready for our first taste of champagne. I graciously take the last place in line. Dad smiles at me as he pours about two inches of the bubbly liquid into my cup.
�
��My little girl is certainly growing up,” he says, smiling. “Happy birthday in advance, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, glad for the chance to do a bit of celebrating. I’m not sure how much celebrating I’ll be able to do on the twenty-first.
Cautiously, I take a small sip. The bubbles tickle my mouth in a somewhat pleasant way, different somehow from soda, which is the only other carbonated beverage I’ve ever tasted. The champagne is kind of sweet for my taste, though.
“It’s not bad,” I say, “but I don’t really see what the big deal is about this stuff.”
Dad laughs. “It’s how a whole bottle of ‘this stuff’ would make you feel that’s the big deal,” he says. “Which is why I’m going outside right now to smash the rest of these bottles. Marines are an obedient bunch, generally, but alcohol is a pretty powerful temptation to some.”
He picks up the case and carries it toward the front entrance. The rest of us stand around sipping our champagne. Twinkies, chips and champagne—who’d a thought it? It’s certainly not what any of us could have imagined when we woke up this morning.
CHAPTER 35
AS WE GET ON OUR WAY the next morning, thoughts of champagne and junk food are far behind us. Everyone is all business, knowing that today—barring any unforeseen delay—is the day we should finally reach our destination and get our first sight of the fabled island of Alcatraz.
I have mixed feelings about the whole thing. I’m glad our long, difficult journey is nearing its end, but I’m anxious about what we’ll find and what we’ll have to do when we get there. Whatever it is, it’ll be dangerous, for sure, and I’ve still had no indication that I possess any kind of Power. Without a Power of my own, I’m just an eighteen-year-old kid possessed of some moderate skill with a machete, easily the weakest and least accomplished member of our company. I’m also worried that Dad and Kai will be overly watchful of me, and so won’t be able to do whatever needs to be done at their full effectiveness.
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