by Joss Ware
Something about Jade? Most definitely.
“Look what I found.”
Simon’s richly satisfied voice had Elliott starting awake from the best dream he’d had in a long time. It starred him and the intriguing, bareback-riding woman who was supposed to be his patient. There’d been lots of bare ass and smooth white skin, and he wasn’t playing doctor.
Shaking off the dream, trying to ignore the raging hard-on that reminded him that, yes, his parts still worked and his jeans were a bit tight, Elliott rubbed his dry eyes and realized that not only had he actually slept, but that the sun sat fully on the horizon.
Then he saw what Simon was holding. “Duct tape. Holy crap. Six rolls? Unopened, dry, unmildewed?” He grinned and took one of the precious objects. “We could build a bloody house with this stuff. Could probably even tape that damned motor back together.”
Simon gave a rare laugh. “Tell me, man.”
Until now, until he’d had a chance to pull back on his raging hormones, Elliott hadn’t allowed himself to look toward Jade’s pallet. But now that he did, he saw that she was gone.
“Where’s Jade?” he asked casually, looking around the area arrayed with stripes of sunlight. The illumination revealed dust motes that had been stirred up by the unusual activity of human occupation, and the mildew spots on what had been drywall but was now torn and sagging, infested with vines, rodent holes, and insects. The teens had begun to awaken, and it was immediately clear that Jade was no longer in the room.
Elliott walked over to her pallet and saw that the pack he’d taken from over her shoulder was gone. He resisted the absurd urge to kick at the pile of blankets that probably smelled like her and turned back to the others.
At least she’d been smart enough to wait until dawn to leave. He was fairly certain about that because he remembered seeing the faint gray from the sun before drifting off into a hard-won sleep.
“I dunno.”
It took Elliott a moment to realize that Simon was answering his question; but he didn’t need to hear it. He already knew she’d gone back to wherever she’d been, and he doubted he’d see her again. Unless. . . .
He looked at Geoff, who looked fairly miserable. Obviously the kid knew Jade. All the more reason to get on their way and find this mecca known as Envy.
They gathered up the teens, and, now that it was daylight and there was actually decent illumination, Elliott could see how miserable and tired they really were. And young. Definitely no more than seventeen, all of them. They all had parents that were likely worried sick about them too.
They started off, heading north, bearing slightly west, walking along an overgrown road that led toward a nearby fringe of looming mountains.
Once paved, the thoroughfare—probably a highway of some sort, though any signs had long rusted over—had become home to full-grown trees and bushes, thrusting up from cracks made by stubborn seedlings and temperature changes. Clusters of saplings and patches of grasses and low-growing bushes filled out the sides of the highway, not quite forests yet but definitely on the way to becoming them. Elliott found it amazing how quickly man’s world had become destroyed and overgrown after half a century.
Mother Nature was one hell of a ball-buster.
June 10 (?)
Four days After
Ventured outside for the first time since the earthquakes began. Horrible sight. Unbelievable destruction. Dead bodies, crushed cars, parts of buildings gone. Dust and debris everywhere, clouding the air, my lungs. Puked three times.
Amazed and sickened to find that half of the Strip is underwater. Completely gone.
Have been able to find more bottled water. Some plastic bottles. Some food, too, in a fridge. Found another survivor, a woman named Diane. Arm broken but otherwise okay. We scavenged together and found a safe place to stay. Have tentatively agreed it’s been four days, making today June 10, 2010.
The buildings aren’t falling so often anymore. Only one or two crashes per day. The storms continue. Can’t see much through the rain, but the dust and debris is being cleared by it. Spent very little time outside. Just enough to call out. No one answered.
Where’s help?
Found an intact cell phone and tried to call 911. No bars. Nothing.
Still sense Theo’s presence. How will I ever find him?
—from the journal of Lou Waxnicki
Chapter 5
Jade bent over the mustang’s neck, its mane sweeping rhythmically over her cheek as they galloped across the terrain. She held on to a handful of mane and looped her other arm around and beneath the horse’s neck. Her pack hung comfortably over her shoulder, jolting against her hip, and though she hadn’t slept much last night, she felt exhilarated as they pounded through grassy meadows and around and through what had once been small cities. Free.
She loved the wind in her face, the sunshine on her skin, the scent on the air, still damp after the morning dew, the warmth and movement of a living being beneath her. Those were things she’d never take for granted again. She reminded herself of it every day.
With only a little stab of regret, she’d left Elliott and the others the moment dawn began to gray the horizon. By then, the gangas would be seeking the protective darkness of large buildings or wading deep into the ocean.
If nothing unexpected happened, she’d get back to Envy in just enough time to clean up before her gig. She prayed Theo had made it to Envy by now too. There seemed to have been a lot of gangas out and about last night. A trickle of worry nagged her, but she tried to put it out of her mind because there was nothing she could do about it until she found out whether he was safe or not.
Jade wondered if Elliott was angry that she’d left. Not that it mattered. Just because he’d somehow healed her didn’t mean that he had any control over her. And since she’d seen him with his shirt torn off, she knew for certain he wasn’t a Stranger.
That was the only reason she’d been looking at him so closely when he climbed up the rope ladder last night. Just to make sure he didn’t have any crystals. But he’d caught her watching for him, and he probably thought she was ogling his bare chest. Which she hadn’t been. Except to look for crystals. Even though it had been a very wixy chest.
Jade gave her head a little shake to dislodge the image of that very wixy chest, and felt the pleasant reminder of her long hair flip and flow behind her. It had taken her three years to grow it out again and although it could be a liability in some ways, she refused to cut it. The heavy length, despite the tangles and impracticality, was another reminder that she was free and in control of her own life. And her own body.
There were nights when dark dreams brought back those days in the sunny, spare white room, the constant rush of running water, the large white upholstered bed. Even now, when she approached a river or waterfall, the sound gave her pause for a moment, sending a little trickle of unease over her shoulders. Foolish, she knew. Foolish and weak.
But for the most part, she was free of the dreams, the catch of the memories. Her past could have deadened her, induced her to stay locked safely away, but she refused to cower. She enjoyed life—the life she’d fought so hard to preserve—too much to be restricted.
By the time Jade saw the walls of Envy, the sun was leaning well toward the western horizon. Instead of going to the main gateway, on the southern side, she dismounted about two miles away, near an overgrown structure that might once have been a small house. An oak thrust from its decrepit roof, and none of the windows retained their glass panes. Buckled concrete led up to an entrance large enough for one of the big vehicles the Strangers liked to drive. Jade gave her mount a hug, a pat, and an apple from her knapsack, then slapped him on the rump, setting him free to return to his herd.
Mustangs were plentiful in the meadows, tame and easy to catch if one knew how, so she had no need to pen him—or any of them. Jade had a particular affinity for the horses, and she went to where they gathered and whistled when she needed a ride. Most of the time
, one would respond to her call—and the apples they’d come to expect.
Having set her mount free, Jade walked toward Envy. She took care to be as unobtrusive as possible, keeping trees, buildings, and any other object as a shield between herself and anyone who might be watching from the city walls. The three main gates were large and obvious and drew the attention of any approaching traveler. And no one but Jade, Lou, and Theo knew about the hidden entrance positioned on the southwest side beneath an old sign with a girl called Wendy on it.
That was because the Waxnicki brothers had built the hidden entrance long ago, when the walls were first being erected to keep out the gangas.
If only they’d kept out the Strangers too. Not that Strangers were plentiful in Envy, or even often ventured into the city walls. At least, as far as they knew.
Jade easily slipped between the heavy bushes that grew along the protective walls, which had been made from old train cars, semi-truck trailers, and a variety of stacked debris. They’d also used big house-sized signs called billboards and even some bricks and metal sheeting taken from the destroyed buildings. The walls, which in places were little more than a mountain range of junk, rose more than twenty feet high. In fact, they could be used to keep Envyites in as well as gangas out.
Uncomfortable with that very possibility of being penned in was the reason Lou and Theo had created their own passageway, using a large culvert. They’d secretly positioned the metal pipe—which was large enough for a man to walk through—beneath collapsed billboards and tumbling walls. Then, they had obstructed both ends of it with more debris, causing it to blend into the piles of rubble that had been formed by the cleanup after the Change.
Only someone like Jade, who knew which objects to move and how, could find and utilize the passage.
Now, she emerged from the inside of the culvert and found herself in an old boxcar. Feeling her way in the dark, she moved through the car and through a trapdoor in the floor, easing herself onto the ground three feet below. She crouched, hurrying out from under the boxcar, slid from behind a warped sheet of metal, and found herself on what had once been a street.
The sun had dropped farther, and with the height of the wall, Jade was well hidden on the overgrown street. She slipped quickly and silently along the dim alley between the building and the barricade of debris. All was quiet but for the soft rustle of some animal scuttling through the dark, and the far-distant sounds of voices and activity.
But . . . she heard something else. Something that didn’t belong.
The back of Jade’s shoulders prickled. She slowed and slid into the shadows, feeling the rough, age-pitted wall beneath her hands. Voices. Low and careful.
Unusual for this area of the city, where few people had the need or desire to venture. There was nothing here but piles of rubble, and a few half-walls from destroyed buildings. Whatever might have been of value had been scavenged long ago.
The voices were deep, indicating they were men. They spoke quickly and quietly, their feet kicking up old sticks and dislodging stones, taking little care to hide their presence. Or perhaps they simply didn’t expect anyone to be here.
Jade knew she had to make a decision—whether to hide, or to go boldly forward and bluff her way through a possible meeting. It could be a perfectly innocent situation . . . but something felt wrong. She’d never encountered anyone else in this area, and she realized suddenly why it felt wrong. They carried no light. No illumination. But anyone else, without a nefarious purpose, would want to safely light their way.
Of course, she wasn’t carrying a light either . . . so what did that say about her?
Jade pushed against the wall, feeling her way for an opening or indentation in which she could hide. The voices were coming closer and she’d hardly moved.
Her heart picked up speed and she moved as quickly as she dared, taking care to lift her feet carefully and deliberately, placing her steps smoothly so as not to rustle or scuff. At last . . . the wall angled beneath her fingers and she edged sharply into unknown darkness. The brick or concrete seeped chill into her back and palms, and leaves from its overgrowth brushed her face and caught at her hair.
Something moved . . . slithered . . . over her foot and she barely contained a surprised—and horrified—gasp, muffling it with a hard, horse-scented palm over her mouth. Oh God! Mice, rats, possums . . . she could handle any of the four-footed creatures and some of the eight-legged ones. Just not the ones that slid on their bellies.
Then . . . no more slithering. A faint rustle from where the snake glided off, hopefully far away, and Jade realized that the men were approaching. So much for the hope that they might not come in this direction.
Peering around the edge of her hiding place, Jade saw the two figures. They were outlined in the gathering shadows, black against the blue-gray of falling night. And beneath one of their shirts, faint but unmistakable, she saw a faint glow. Very subtle, hardly noticeable if you weren’t looking for it and if the fabric wasn’t too heavy.
A Stranger.
Here in Envy, lurking in the darkness.
Jade’s heart ramrodded in her throat and a trickle of nervous perspiration rolled down her spine. But her shock increased as they drew closer.
For, even in the low light, she recognized one of them—the one without the crystal glow of immortality. Rob Nurmikko, one of the plastic workers. He melted down a variety of objects left over from before the Change—milk cartons, parts of cars, toys, whatever he could find—and created furniture and other goods from them. Jade had one of his heart-shaped chairs in her room.
He was working with a Stranger?
Jade held her breath as they drew nearer.
“It’s not my fault they never showed last night,” Rob was saying. “I can’t exactly drag—”
“I’ll be happy to give your excuses to Preston,” interrupted the Stranger coolly. “You know how well that’ll go over.”
“No, wait. Wait. I’ll get ’em. How much time?” Rob’s voice was strained and thready.
“The shipment’s going on Friday,” replied his companion flatly. “Everything’s got to be ready by then, or he’ll have your fucking head. If you screw up this shipment, he’ll send the Marcks after you.”
“I’ll have the cargo by then.” The plastics maker’s voice didn’t sound very convincing.
“Either that, or you’d best disappear. Because if you don’t manage it this time—and he’s expecting prime goods—then you’ll be ganga lunch.” The other man laughed as they passed by Jade’s hiding place and she closed her eyes, praying that they wouldn’t look into the darkness.
“I need more grit,” Jade heard Rob whine as the two men faded into distance and darkness, but she could discern nothing else after that, for the ominous conversation still rang in her mind.
Preston. Just hearing his name was enough to make her knees tremble and the bottom drop out of her stomach . . . but to know that someone here, in Envy, had a connection to him . . . was preparing a cargo for him . . . threatened to give her nightmares. She’d hoped, maybe in the deepest part of her heart, that something had happened to Preston in the last three years . . . but what, after all, could happen to an immortal man?
Not much, as long as he had his crystal.
But the other thing that settled in her mind, besides the fear that she would be discovered as Diana Kapiza, was Rob’s plea for more grit.
Crystal grit. Also known as pixie or crystal dust.
A hallucinogen she’d become horribly, frighteningly familiar with during her captivity. What had Rob gotten himself mixed up in?
The daylong trek took Elliott and his friends north through the mountains, and by the time they made it through the pass, the western horizon had bisected the sun. Darkness would soon come, and with it, the night creatures, and according to the kids, they still had about an hour’s worth of travel.
Fence and Wyatt each carried a bottle bomb, ready to be lit. Quent had his arrows, and Simon and Ell
iott each had one of the group’s precious firearms, loaded with even more precious bullets.
Bullets for the wolves, bottle bombs for the gangas.
During the day, Elliott saw several old and rusted-out vehicles along the side of the overgrown road, but he’d stopped wondering where the rest of them had gone. Just as he no longer expected to find bodies, or even skeletons, lurking in the buildings into which they’d ventured. If there had been any, they’d disappeared long ago, perhaps taken off by wolves or wild dogs . . . or perhaps not.
Perhaps something else had happened to them.
“Is that a lake over there?” Fence asked, pointing toward the setting sun. They were standing on a high point just beyond the mountain pass.
Elliott turned and saw nothing but gray-blue ridges of low mountains; but, then, he wasn’t Fence.
“I don’t see nothing,” said one of the boys. “But Envy’s right by the ocean.” He pointed. “See that bit of light? That’s Envy.”
Elliott saw the patch of lights. From the size of the cluster, it looked like a fairly large settlement. And if they wanted to get there before dark, they’d better hurry.
“The ocean,” Fence murmured. Elliott, who walked just behind him, could almost hear the wheels turning. “But that’s not right. It can’t be.” He looked at the boy who’d answered him. “How do you know it’s an ocean?”
“Salt water,” Geoff said. His voice held a cocky edge that Elliott could relate to from his own youth.
Apparently even the apocalypse hadn’t changed teenaged attitude.
“The Great Salt Lake maybe?” Fence murmured, mostly to himself. He’d paused walking and Elliott saw that he’d closed his eyes. “That might make more sense. But no . . . we’re too far west.”
“It’s an ocean,” Geoff said. “Not a lake. Seashells.” The duh remained unspoken, but hung there nevertheless.
“We’re not that far west,” Fence replied.
Before they could continue, a strange trumpeting sound filled the air. Elliott turned toward the noise. No way.