400 Horsepower of the Apocalypse

by Erica Lindquist

  Somehow, both Leo and I still had our helmets and despite being streaked in ash and grime, we cruised into Flagstaff with­out issue. As the afternoon turned into evening, the highway slanted up again and mountains rose in angular violet shadows on the other side of the city. We drove past a big concrete tower with a red and white checkerboard logo on it that looked like something seriously industrial, but most of the signs and billboards along the road advertised hotels and tours of the Grand Canyon.

  I had never seen the Grand Canyon before and really wished we weren’t on the run for our lives. I was a born and bred Kansas girl. Back home, the land was so flat that you could see the curve of the Earth. I knew what the Grand Canyon looked like – I had seen pictures my whole life, like any American – but was pretty sure that my fantasies would utterly fail to live up to the glorious rocky reality.

  A big commercial airliner flew over the highway, roaring like a great mechanical dragon as it descended over Flagstaff, and yanked my attention back to the present.

  There had to be a major airport nearby. It was another two day’s drive from here to San Diego – depending upon traffic and our route – but what about on an airplane? A couple of hours, max…? We could be knocking on Uncle Carlos’ door by the end of the day.

  But how would we pay for airplane tickets? With Leo’s stolen money? I was pretty sure that airlines got suspicious when ash-streaked weirdos paid cash for same-day flights. They might not actually arrest us for that, but it would certainly get logged into someone’s computer system. And then how long until Michael’s police came looking for Leo? Or those paramilitary guys who tried to kill us in Zamora Canyon?

  What about all of Leo’s guns? I doubted that we could just dump them in a trash can. And what about the Packmaster? Did airlines transport vehicles? Did that happen by truck? Would Leo be able to leave the possessed motorcycle for that long? I re­membered Leo’s utter unwillingness to buy a replacement back in Crayhill with new understanding – Death bound him to that bike and would not let go.

  But that wasn’t even the worst potential problem with taking an airplane to California. I had no idea if a horseman’s steed could fly, but the angels had wings. What if Michael or Gabriel caught up to us while we were in the air? Our encounters with the archangels had already leveled a motel and blasted a mile-long section of Highway 44 into craters. Just the thought of that happening on a plane thousands of feet above the ground sent cold shivers through me.

  Nope.

  We drove deeper into Flagstaff and without the sickly-sweet smell of Pestilence at work, my stomach growled. I was starving and felt an answering rumble roll through Leo where my arms were wrapped around him. The Packmaster grumbled, too, but I doubted the possessed bike suddenly wanted gasoline. It was just bitchy about leaving another horseman behind, and bucked under me.

  I tightened my grip around Leo, but I was already tired and my muscles trembled. I leaned in closer until I could put my lips right against Leo’s ear.

  “We’ve got to stop,” I shouted over the wind. “We need food and we need rest.”

  Leo nodded and signaled, taking the next off-ramp. There were usually plenty of motels, restaurants and filling stations near a highway or freeway, and Flagstaff was no exception. But Leo passed up the diners and fast food, then drove through the col­lection of cheap motor lodges that had been our homes for the last four days. When we finally stopped, it was in front of the twelve-story tower of a chain hotel.

  Leo parked and sat for a moment, rubbing the bridge of his nose while I scrambled off the back of the Packmaster.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Not really,” Leo said. “Are you?”

  “Not really.”

  Leo laughed shortly and then climbed from the Packmaster. He turned it off, but the engine kept rumbling. Leo’s brows drew down and he pressed one hand against the seat.

  “That’s enough!” he growled. “Stay here.”

  His bike grumbled and lurched forward. Leo grabbed the pillion and heaved, but the motorcycle dragged him a few feet across the asphalt before finally braking to a reluctant stop.

  Leo grunted and wrestled the bike back into its parking spot. The sun was setting and Michael’s golden flames had long since vanished, so Leo put his leather jacket on again. He considered, then unfastened the saddlebags from the tail of his motorcycle. I eyed the red valet counter set up outside the hotel.

  “This place is going to cost more money,” I told Leo as he shouldered the heavy bags. “A lot more.”

  “We’ve got plenty of cash and I’m not worried about holding onto any of it,” Leo said. “I just want to get to San Diego and put an end to this shit.”

  “I hope your Uncle Carlos is as good as you think.”

  “He is,” Leo promised me, then cocked his head toward the hotel. “I’m hoping that anyone looking for us will be searching all those cheap roadside motels. And places like this have room service. We need dinner, but I don’t want to spend a minute longer off the road than we have to.”

  I nodded. “Good idea. And I’m not going to complain about a little luxury.”

  I followed Leo in through a pair of sliding glass doors frosted with the hotel’s name and logo, past a row of luggage carts with brass rails and then into the lobby. It was a long room tiled in a lot of cultured marble and tourist brochures. A chandelier hung from the high ceiling and cast tiny glittering motes of light all across the lobby.

  A woman with smooth black hair stood behind the counter, backlit by a glowing starburst logo. Were they even called a clerk at a real hotel? The woman wore a neat burgundy jacket and I glanced down at myself – torn and oil-stained jeans, biker shirt tied off at the midriff, with a big, leather-clad tattooed guy at my side. Probably not her standard clientele, but the maybe-clerk at the counter looked like she was trying her best not to judge.

  “Good evening,” she greeted us. “My name is Tanvi. How can I help you tonight?”

  “One room, please,” Leo said. “Two beds.”

  “Of course, sir. Just let me take a quick look at what we have available.”

  Tanvi tapped at a keyboard with long, shiny red fingernails. I couldn’t help staring a little… Nails like that wouldn’t have lasted an hour in a garage. My own fingernails were clipped short, but I kept them religiously clean.

  Hey, I had an angel living rent-free in my head. If anyone can use that phrase, it’s me.

  Leo rubbed at the skin between his eyes again, like he had a monster headache. I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but I don’t think Leo noticed.

  “I’ve got two rooms available,” Tanvi said. “One on the fourth floor, and one on the ninth.”

  That was a long run or elevator ride back down to the Packmaster if we needed to escape.

  “Anything on the first or second story?” I asked.

  Tanvi couldn’t seem to help raising a well-shaped eyebrow at that. She covered it with a professional smile and tapped a few more keys.

  “I have one king room on the second floor, overlooking the pool,” Tanvi said. “Nothing with two beds, though.”

  “We’ll take it,” Leo answered.

  Somehow, I doubted that he was inspired by the promise of a view and our chances of having the time for a swim were pretty slim. I hadn’t packed my bikini, anyway. But that reminded me of something else that real hotels had in movies.

  “Hey, do you have concierge service here?” I asked.

  “We do. Our guests can order anything they need up to their room,” Tanvi said, then hesitated. “Except tobacco, lottery tickets or any illegal substances, of course.”

  I bristled at whatever assumption Tanvi was making, but Leo nodded… Though it looked strained.

  “How about room service?” he asked. “I don’t need cigarettes – I need dinner.”

  Tanvi’s perfect smile returned. “The kitchen is open all night and there’s a menu in your room. I highly recommend the pilaf.”

  “Tha
nks,” Leo said.

  “If I can just run your card, then we can get you heading to­ward dinner.”

  Tanvi glanced back and forth between us, clearly uncertain who was paying for this suspicious little getaway. Leo pulled a few hundred-dollar bills out of his pocket and placed them on the high, glass-topped counter. Tanvi blinked.

  “We require a credit card to charge any incidentals,” she said slowly. “The minibar, pay-per-view… Room service.”

  Leo bit down on a growl and put a thick stack of bills on the counter. It was smaller than the one he had given me in Crayhill what felt like a lifetime ago – but not by much.

  “This should cover everything,” Leo said.

  Tanvi’s smile faltered and there was naked suspicion on her face… But she pinched the money between those long, shiny red nails. I wasn’t sure if she was bending the rules or taking the cash as an outright bribe, but I didn’t care.

  Wahoo, I was a real criminal now! I was officially a bad girl… with a rule-obsessed angel in my head.

  I’m a complicated woman.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you this evening?” Tanvi asked.

  “We’ll need a wakeup call,” Leo said. “Five o’clock tomorrow. We have to get back on the road again.”

  “Of course,” Tanvi answered.

  She sounded relieved. Whether it was because Leo wasn’t asking for something against hotel policy this time or because we would be gone when the sun rose, I wasn’t sure. But Tanvi typed for another moment, then tucked a pair of slick black and gold key cards into a tiny folder. She held them out to Leo.

  “The wi-fi password is printed inside,” Tanvi told him. “Have a restful night.”

  “Here’s hoping,” I said.

  Leo handed me a key and we crossed the lobby to a row of elevators with polished brass doors that slid open as soon as I pressed the button. It wasn’t a long ride up to the second floor, but we were exhausted. We made our way down a carpeted hall­way to our room.

  I unlocked the door and Leo followed me into a room three times the size of anything we had stayed in so far. He dropped the leather saddlebags on a padded armchair and I went to the window. Outside was the hotel swimming pool, a glowing tur­quoise rectangle against the skyline of nighttime Flagstaff. The city shone with lights in white and pale amber, flickering like terrestrial starlight as the cooling air stirred up into a brisk wind. The surface of the water below rippled in the breeze and a line of palm trees danced around the colored spotlights in front of the hotel.

  I sighed and closed the heavy blackout drapes. The view was beautiful, but up on the second story, we were still all too visible, and Leo had bags full of money and guns that we didn’t want anyone to see. I left just a little sliver open between the curtains, though. Leo and I should be able to sense incoming archangels or horsemen, but there were humans with guns and riot gear we had to worry about, too.

  Leo rummaged around the tourist brochures on the desk, then held out a large folder with a leather finish and hotel logo embossed on the front.

  “Room service,” he said.

  “Uh, this stop is already getting expensive.” I took the menu and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” Leo answered. “We got over a million dollars off that armored car, and I’m carrying more than half of it now. Plus, we might not even live long enough to spend it.”

  He gave me a small smile and raked his hands through his hair.

  “Besides, I’m saving on gas,” he added.

  “Fair point. I guess… But I’ve still got most of the money you paid me.”

  I leaned up onto my hip to pull the wallet from my pocket, opened it and held out a hundred-dollar bill.

  “Can dinner be my treat this time?” I asked.

  Leo hesitated, shifting his weight as he thought, but then nodded. He didn’t argue or get all chivalrous – he just accepted the cash and tucked it into his pocket.

  We went through the room service menu. Everything was ridiculously overpriced, but as Leo had said, we might not live long enough to spend all of the money. So we called the kitchen and asked for two orders of the pilaf Tanvi had recommended, a hamburger and fries for Leo, a steak for me, and a pair of the chef’s specialty brownies. I wasn’t sure what those were, but I deserved something sweet. The woman who took our order – I couldn’t tell if it was Tanvi or not over the phone – promised us that the food would be up in about twenty minutes.

  “Sure,” I said. “Thank you.”

  I put down the phone receiver and rubbed my eyes. My skin felt gritty and greasy. I made a face.

  “I bet the water heater in this place is up to the challenge of two hot showers,” I said.

  Leo ran his fingers along his cheek. “Yeah. And I could use a shave. But you can go first.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “My clothes are filthy, though.”

  “Is that why you asked about the concierge? New clothes?”

  “I think just washing them would be a nice change of pace,” I said with a smirk. “Do you want to see if there’s a laundry ser­vice here?”

  “Sure,” Leo answered. “Toss your clothes through the door and I’ll find out.”

  I went into the washroom, stripped, then pushed my grimy jeans and socks out the door with one foot while the water heated up. Which didn’t take long – the shower was gloriously hot and came down like cleansing rain from an oversized head set into the ceiling.

  I took more time in the shower than was strictly necessary – including finally shaving my legs with a disposable razor from the cabinet next to the towels – but it felt amazing. When I was done, I patted my hair dry, twisted the black curls back into a damp knot at the nape of my neck, and then wrapped myself in a fluffy white hotel robe. I emerged from the washroom as Leo was closing and locking the front door.

  “Food?” I asked hopefully.

  “Not yet. Just pickup for your clothes,” Leo told me. “They’ll drop them off in the morning. I told them we need to leave early.”

  “I hope we get to stay here that long.”

  We didn’t have a very good track record for that, but Leo just nodded. He grabbed a well-worn toiletries bag and headed for the washroom. Leo passed me on his way, close enough that I could smell the sweat and leather scent of him. But I also saw the tightness in his clenched jaw and across his shoulders like knotted steel cables.

  And I felt Death inside Leo. A sudden chill went through me, so cold that it was a wonder ice didn’t form on my damp skin. Uriel tensed and drew somehow back from the horseman, even though I hadn’t moved at all. Leo looked over his shoulder at me and I could see in his eyes that he sensed it, too. He closed the bathroom door firmly behind him.

  I let out an explosive breath and hit the minibar. Not for alcohol – although it was tempting and there were plenty of tiny bottles with foil labels – but nothing felt as good on a dry throat after a day on the road as an ice-cold, bubbly pop. I grabbed a red can swirled in silver, pried open the tab and guzzled half the contents before coming up for air.

  Much better. I sighed and then flopped down into one of the armchairs. I stretched out my legs and wiggled my toes, then tensed as someone knocked on the door. I stood up so fast that my head swam, and stared around the hotel room. Leo’s revolver was gone, flung across Highway 44 when it failed to kill Pestilence, but the semi-automatic he offered me last night sat on a pristine white table next to the bed.

  I picked up the gun and stuffed it into my hotel robe before hurrying to the door. With one hand in my pocket, I looked through the peephole. The man outside wore hotel colors and branding, but I didn’t relax at all. Remember that time a little old church lady showed up at my door, then turned into an archangel and leveled the place? Yeah, so do I.

  But the guy in the hallway actually had a pushcart full of covered dishes, so I ran back, found my wallet – also on the bed­side table – and opened the door.

  “Room service,” he sa
id. “Can I bring it in for you?”

  “No, thanks,” I answered.

  I didn’t really want to let anyone into our room, but when I accepted the food and the bellhop still didn’t sprout wings or burp up a creepy bug cloud, I grabbed another hundred-dollar bill and held it out.

  “Uh… everything will be on the final invoice tomorrow,” the bellhop said.

  “I know,” I told him. “This is for you.”

  Can’t spend money when you’re dead, remember? The man blinked a few times, then took the tip and thanked me before beating a hasty retreat in case I changed my mind. I closed the door and slid the chain into place.

  Why did you do that? Uriel asked as I brought the food inside.

  What? The tip?

  Yes, Uriel said. You are aware that it is too much reward for the service rendered. There is a rule, and you broke it.

  I rolled my eyes. Wow, it sounds sexy when you say it like that.

  Why did you do it? Uriel asked again.

  I pulled the metal lid off the pilaf and inhaled the steam. It really did smell delicious.

  Because it’s a nice thing to do, I told Uriel. Because working at a hotel in the middle of the night has got to suck and maybe that money will make some bill easier to pay this month.

  Why are you being nice?

  Because… I hesitated, trying to pull my thoughts into some kind of coherent answer. Because I wish people had been nicer to me. Not my parents – they were great. But guys like Craig and Leo’s asshole dad… Maybe if everyone was kinder, the world would be a better place.

  And you want to improve this world? Uriel asked.

  Uh, of course I do…? You are brutally naïve, you know.

  I am an immortal force of light and order, the archangel told me stiffly. I existed long before your universe was born.

  I smirked. Yeah, and you don’t know about sex or chocolate.

  Leo stepped out from the washroom, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Maybe he needed fresh clothes, too, but I didn’t question – I just enjoyed the view.