“Yeah, sure. Sometimes we go to scrounge up some work. We try not to stay too long.”
“How much you think it would cost to get some information out of them?”
“Most of your cut from this last job. I don’t think that would matter much to you. You’re not in it for the money, right?”
“Right.”
Nation sighs and then shakes his head. “If you’re that determined to do it, we’ll go with you. Be a chance to get some more work—if we live long enough.”
“Thanks, Phil.”
“That will make us even then, OK?”
“Sure.”
As the name suggests, White Sands is covered by dunes that are almost pure white. The only time Hunter saw sands like it was on one vacation in Mexico with a girl named Maria; they wound up rolling naked in the sand one night like From Here to Eternity. The truck rumbles through an unmanned security gate, onto the old missile range.
It’s in this area where the first atomic bomb tests had been conducted, when the world had changed forever. Hunter isn’t worried about radiation since those tests were seventy years ago; he’s more worried about any zeebs that might still be wandering around. “You really think you’ll find anything here?”
“Probably not. Might as well look while we’re here, right?”
“Right,” Hunter mumbles, tightening his grip on his M4. “So, if I wanted, could I get my hands on a nuclear device?”
“I’m sure you could. There are guys who have gone to the old silos in the heartland to try disconnecting a warhead. And there are the ballistic missile subs that beached once they got word the war was over. The problem is more about demand. Even a tactical nuke is a little bit of overkill for your average street gang or petty dictator.”
“You ever worry someone might be sitting on a stockpile somewhere?”
“Not really. The world is fucked up enough as it is. And really, even if you had a bunch of nukes and wanted to hold the world hostage like a Bond villain, what about the zeebs? They don’t pay ransom and radiation isn’t going to kill them.”
“That’s a good point.”
“Hey, look at that,” Nation says, pointing to a missile sticking up from the ground at about a forty-five degree angle. The missile must have been a dud; that or it had never contained a live explosive in the first place. “Looks like this wasn’t a complete waste of time.”
“It really wasn’t,” Hunter says, though he’s already looking ahead to his next destination.
Chapter 17
Before Hunter can land at the airport, he has to agree to pay ten pieces of silver as a landing fee. The fee is doubled for Nation’s two C-130s. Hunter has already promised to handle any fees from his share, so he’ll have to pay the whole fifty silver pieces.
He assumed the bag of silver he got from Nation would be more than enough, but he starts to get worried when the maintenance crew wants another thirty pieces of silver to refuel the Harrier. Much of that he figures is insurance to make sure they don’t steal the plane while he’s doing business in the city. It costs another hundred pieces of silver for the same arrangement with the C-130s. By the time he even gets to the Hub he’s going to be broke again.
Nation is the only one who will be accompanying Hunter into the city; Hunter is relieved that he won’t have to worry about dealing with Val. That will let him better focus on the task ahead. She does blow him a kiss and call out, “You watch that sweet ass of yours.”
For another ten pieces of silver Hunter rents a Jeep Wrangler to drive into the city. He lets Nation do the driving since he has actually been here and knows what they’re looking for. Hunter takes his bag of silver out to jingle it. “This place is pretty expensive.”
“I should show you some of the clubs. A guy can run through a ten-pound sack of gold in an hour.”
“How does it work at a strip club anyway? You shove a few coins down her G-string like a piggy bank?”
“Nah. They bring a bucket up there. You toss the coins into the bucket and then she walks off with it. Makes me miss paper money. At least then you could cop a feel. Not that a guy like you probably needed to go somewhere like that, right?”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning you probably had it easy enough to find women that you didn’t need to pay to ogle them.”
Hunter’s face turns warm. He shrugs. “I did all right.”
The Wrangler lurches to a stop at a checkpoint manned by machine gun-toting guys in Marine uniforms stripped of insignia. Hunter has to pass Nation a half-dozen silver pieces before they can pass through. “You didn’t mention they had toll roads.”
“They change all the time. Depends on which groups are holding what territories.” Nation motions to a white rectangular building in the distance. “That’s the Hub up there. The top of what they used to call Republic Plaza. I hope you brought your walking shoes. It’s fifty-six stories to the top.”
“I could use to stretch my legs after that flight.”
First they have to get to the building, which means going through a dozen more “checkpoints.” Each one features guys in different uniforms. Most barricade the road with old cars, but one has a pair of M60 tanks that could easily turn the jeep into a pile of scorched junk. It’s fifteen pieces of silver to get through that checkpoint, the last before they can park in a garage for Republic Plaza.
The marble lobby was ornate at one time, but now it’s occupied by dozens of crude booths for merchants and mercenary groups. Like the PX at Davis-Monthan, you can get just about anything from the lobby and the rest of the retail space on the first three floors. Hunter ignores the salesmen trying to sell him everything from an M1A1 tank to underage girls.
Mentally he’s exhausted by the time they get to a stairwell to take them up to the top floor of the building. Physical fatigue sets in by the time they’re halfway up. “Seems like kind of an inconvenient location,” Hunter says as they rest on a landing for the thirtieth floor.
“Yeah, but all the radio gear is on the top of the building,” Nation says. “They have runners down in the lobby, but something like this you want to do face-to-face.”
“So who is it we’re going to be talking to?”
“One of the operators. Nerdy engineer types mostly. Most of those guys got killed in the outbreak, but these ones found a niche. Only in America.”
They start back up the stairs, each floor getting more difficult. Part of this is that they’re over a mile up, where the air starts to get thinner. If he could have, Hunter would have brought his oxygen mask along for a little pick-me-up.
A pair of guards in full body armor and machine guns stop them on the landing for the fifty-fourth floor. “What you boys want?” one asks.
“We’re here to get some information from the Hub,” Nation says.
“What sort of information?”
“That’s between us and them,” Nation says.
“Yeah? Maybe we just put a bullet in your smart mouth here and now.”
Hunter takes the bag of silver from his pocket. “How much is it to end this conversation?”
“Twenty silver. Ten gold. Or if you got a big fat diamond in there we’ll take it.”
Hunter reaches into the bag for twenty pieces of silver to hand over to the guard. They finally step aside to let him pass. Nation starts to follow, but they block his path. “It’s twenty apiece, smart guy.”
“Fine.” Nation reaches into his pocket for twenty pieces. Whether by accident or design, some of the coins fall onto the floor. “Whoops.”
“You think you’re real smart, don’t you? Come on, Morty, let’s show him what we do with smart guys here.”
Before they can lift their machine guns, Hunter chops the mouthy one in the neck. It doesn’t take him out, but it’s a good enough distraction for Nation to kick the guy in the crotch. He strips the man’s machine gun away to point at Morty. “We going to have a problem?”
“No,” Morty says, lifting his hands. He stands aside to let Nation pas
s. The other guard is on his knees, gasping for air and probably plotting his revenge.
“When we come back down, your friend better be taking a smoke break,” Nation growls.
They stomp up the rest of the way to the top floor. Hunter expected something high-tech like NASA’s mission control, but the Hub turns out to be a bunch of cubicles, each populated with a radio, a pad of paper, and a nerd straight out of a Dilbert cartoon. “This is it?”
“Yeah, it’s not exactly the bridge of the Enterprise,” Nation says. “Let’s see what we can find.”
Nation picks a cubicle at random. Hunter is surprised to find the nerd inside is a woman, though with the thick glasses, ratty brown sweater, and frizzy mane of chestnut hair she looks like she belongs here. When Nation clears his throat, she lets out a startled yelp and then wheels back to bump into the desk of her cubicle.
“Hey there…Alice,” Nation says, reading her nametag. “My name is Phil. This is Hunter. He’s here to see if you might know anything about some friends of his.”
“Who?” she asks in a whisper.
“First were a group of people in an old seaplane. They might have come this way from Seattle. Has anyone like that been around?”
“I…I don’t know. I…I can check our files.”
“Thanks. I’m also looking for a group flying Russian planes. Il-76 Candid cargo planes and MiG-29 Fulcrum and Su-27 Flanker fighters mostly. They might have a white X-29 with them. If you could find out anything, I would be really grateful.”
“It…It make take a little while. You…you can wait here.”
Hunter reaches into his pocket again for the bag of silver. “How much will it cost?”
“There…there’s no charge,” Alice mumbles.
“You don’t have to be afraid. We’re not here to hurt you. I just want to find my friends—and the people who tried to kill them.”
Alice nods slightly. “I…I’ll be back soon.” She looks down at the floor as she scurries from her cubicle. Nation waits until she has gone to start laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“That girl has got it for you bad.”
“What? How do you know that?”
“You heard the way she was stammering, right?”
“She was nervous.”
“And she wouldn’t look you in the eye. Did you see her face? It was bright red.”
“How do you know you’re not the one she’s interested in?”
“I wish. Well, not really. Not much of a body there.”
“She’s cute. In a way.”
“Yeah, sure. If you take off those glasses and stuff her bra.”
“I hadn’t realized what a misogynist you are.”
“Even in these times you have to have standards.”
Hunter shakes his head and then picks up Alice’s pad of paper. On it she has written that morning’s traffic. Some of the shorthand he can’t make out, but he doesn’t see anything about Russian planes, an X-29, or a seaplane. That would have been too much to hope for.
He lets out a startled squeal of his own when she clears her throat from the entrance to the cubicle. There’s a chubby guy standing next to her. “This is Chuck, my supervisor,” she says.
“Hey, Chuck,” Nation says, holding out his hand.
Chuck doesn’t shake the proffered hand. Instead, he says, “I’m afraid I have to ask you gentlemen to leave immediately.”
“What? If this is about those guards—”
“It’s not that,” Chuck snaps. “Please, just go before I have to call security.”
“Hey, look, we came a long way. You can’t kick us out without saying anything.”
“I’ve said enough already. Go before there’s trouble.”
“You son of a bitch—”
Hunter puts a hand on Nation’s shoulder before Nation can kick Chuck in a very uncomfortable spot. “It’s all right. We don’t want any trouble. Let’s go.” He keeps his hand on Nation’s shoulder to steer the other man back to the stairs. As promised, Morty is at the checkpoint by himself. He only nods to them as they slide past him.
“What the hell?” Nation shouts as they reach the fifty-third floor. “We climb all the way up there and we’re leaving like that?”
“Yeah.” Hunter opens his left hand to show Nation a note. “Alice slipped this to me while you and Chuck were talking.”
“What’s it say?”
“Peaks Club. VIP room. You know what that means?”
Nation rubs his hands together. “Oh yeah.”
***
Hunter doesn’t imagine the Peaks Club has changed much from before the outbreak. The biggest change is probably that the bouncers carry AK-47s now. And there are the buckets on the stage as Nation described. As a gorgeous brunette makes love to a brass pole on the stage, people toss coins and other trinkets into the pink buckets on either side of the stage.
Nation elbows him in the ribs. He has to shout for Hunter to hear him say, “Hey, who are we here to find?”
“I’m not sure. Where’s the VIP room?”
Nation points to a red curtain to one side of the stage. They have to shove their way through a crowd of horny guys gawking at the woman dancing on stage. When he gets close enough, Hunter tosses a silver coin into the bucket. Nation, probably out of guilt, adds one as well.
The bouncer who blocks their way to the VIP room carries a sub-machine gun that at this range would be just as devastating as its larger counterparts. “You gentlemen got a pass?”
“No. A friend of ours is in there,” Nation says.
“Yeah, well, maybe your friend can come up with the ten gold pieces—each.”
“Christ’s sake,” Hunter grumbles. “Isn’t there anything here for free?”
“A bullet,” the bouncer growls.
“Easy there, fella,” Nation says. He reaches into his pocket for a gold ring with a pea-sized diamond. “Here. Save this until you find that special girl you want to spend your life with.”
The bouncer discreetly pockets the ring and then brushes the curtain back. “Just don’t cause no trouble in there or you’ll be out on your asses.”
“Us, trouble?” Nation says and then snickers. “We wouldn’t dream of it.”
The VIP room is circular with a dozen loveseats and coffee tables. Eight of the loveseats are occupied with a girl—or girls—dancing on the tables in front of them. Nation motions for Hunter to sit on one of the loveseats.
“So, who do you think she wanted us to see?” Nation asks.
Hunter looks around the room. It’s hard to say who in here might have any useful information. They’re almost all in a uniform of one type or another, with the greasy, unshaven look of mercenaries or gang members. Any one of them might have a link to the Russian planes, though he doubts any of them would know what happened to the seaplane carrying Casey, Polly, and the others from Snowcap Mountain.
“Hey boys,” a woman purrs. She’s crouched on the coffee table, wearing only a red string bikini. “You took long enough getting here.”
Hunter does a double take. The woman isn’t wearing glasses and somehow she has gotten her frizzy hair under a pink pageboy wig, but he recognizes her face. “Alice?”
She puts a finger to his lips. “It’s Bunny here. Bunny as in what Alice chased into Wonderland? I know, it’s a little forced, but it’s all I could come up with.”
“You…you seem…really different,” Hunter stammers as Alice shakes her slight breasts in his face.
“It is really…liberating here,” she says. “Plus it pays the rent. You can imagine how expensive it is to live here. I mean, if you’re not a slave of one of the gangs.”
“You’re not, are you?”
“No. They take good care of us here. And at the Hub.”
“And does the Hub know about your second job?” Nation asks.
“It’s don’t ask, don’t tell. They don’t ask and I don’t tell.”
“If you had something to say, why didn�
��t you just tell us back there?”
She leans closer, her cheek rubbing up against his as she whispers, “What you wanted to know is in our Restricted Files. Only the highest echelon can see it.” She puts a finger to his lips before he can say anything. “But I got a peek before Chuck found out. There’s been a bunch of sightings of Russian planes in Utah, especially near Salt Lake. They’ve been running off anyone who gets close to the place. It’s pretty much a no-fly zone there.”
“What about the seaplane? And the X-29?”
“Nothing on those. Not that I could find. They might have something in the Restricted Files. I could try to take a look—”
“I think you’ve done enough,” Hunter says.
“Well then, how about a lap dance? No charge.”
“If you insist.”
Chapter 18
It took the rest of Hunter’s silver to get through the checkpoints back to the airport. At least they managed to make it back in one piece. The Wrangler didn’t even get any dents in it, which probably disappointed the rental agency, who missed the chance to charge them for damages.
The C-130s and Harrier are undamaged as well. Val and the rest of the crew are waiting for them, apparently in good health too. Nation shakes Hunter’s hand and then says, “I guess you’re going to try sneaking into Utah then?”
“It’s all I have to go on at this point. Where are you going to head?”
“Alice told me there’s a camp in Minnesota that’s in need of salt to preserve their fish and stuff. I know where we can pick up a couple of tons of salt that should last them a good long time.”
“What about an escort? I’m not going to be around to bail you out if you run into trouble this time.”
“Actually Val had an idea about that. She’s going to buy herself a plane and fly escort for us.”
“I don’t think I’d want to get in a dogfight with her.”
“No kidding,” Nation says and they both laugh. He claps Hunter on the shoulder. “You take care of yourself. You need anything, pass a message through the Hub. I’m sure Alice will be all too happy to pass it along.”
“I’ll do that.”
They shake hands and then Nation goes up the ramp, into the C-130. Hunter is starting back to the Harrier when he hears someone hiss. Val actually jumps onto his back, draping herself over his neck. “You naughty boy. Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?”
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