by Patten, Sean
“Right,” said Ed. “And you’re coming with us.”
“Bullshit,” said Ramirez. “I’m done.”
It was strange. Despite what was happening, Ramirez seemed…calm about the whole thing.
“You got to admit, though,” he said. “That was some killer shooting.”
A weak smile formed on Ed’s lips.
“Yeah,” he said. “No kidding. Best I’ve ever seen.”
More breathing, shallower and shallower.
“It’s fine,” he said. “My job…my job was to serve and protect. And I got to…go out doing it. What…what more could a cop hope for?”
A small smile spread across his lips as his eyes closed.
Then his breathing stopped.
He was gone.
24 Amy
A few hours later, the sky was in full desert-sunset glory, full of wild purples and oranges and creams. The air was cooling by the second, but Ed and I had been hard at work, so my body was good and warm.
“There,” said Ed, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. “Not six feet, but that’s the best I think we’re going to do.”
I stepped back from the shallow grave that we’d dug for Ramirez. It’d taken good couple of hours to move all the sand with just our bare hands, but I didn’t mind the work. We had food and water and cool air. And it was the least Ramirez deserved.
Once we’d patted the mound smooth, Ed gathered some nearby stones and made a small cross on the grave. After that was done, he stepped back, folded his hands behind his back, and looked down at our work.
“He was a good man,” he said softly. “More duty and honor in his little finger than I’ve seen in most men I’ve known.”
“Yeah,” I said, staring at the grave. “All he cared about was doing the right thing. Wasn’t scared of dying. All he was scared about was that he wouldn’t be able to do as much good as he wanted to.”
“We’re both alive because of him,” said Ed. “And I don’t know about you, but I’m not interested in letting his sacrifice go to waste.”
“Me either,” I said. “He died so we could get free, and that’s what we’re going to do.”
Silence fell over us, a low, howling wind carrying through the desert sands. When I felt ready, I took Ramirez’s badge out of my back pocket, stepped forward, and carefully placed it on the grave, right on the middle stone of the cross.
“I don’t know what the world’s going to look like over the next days or weeks or months or years,” said Ed. “But I can tell you one thing—if we’ve even got a hope of making something worthwhile out of it all, we’re going to need a hell of a lot more men like him.”
“You’re right,” I said. “We’re going to need all the good people we can find.”
“Hopefully Sandy Vista’s got more than a few.”
I nodded. “I’m sure it will.”
We regarded the grave for several more moments, neither of us saying a word.
“We should get moving,” said Ed. “No sense hanging around any longer than necessary.”
He was right. We’d gotten away by the skin of our teeth, but that didn’t mean we were free and clear. The Black Mountain guys were still out there, and I had a feeling they weren’t about to take what we’d done to them sitting down.
“Come on,” he said. “You’ll be home soon.”
I nodded. But before we left, I stepped up to the grave and kneeled down in front of it, silently paying my last respects to the man who’d saved our lives.
When I was ready I got up and started back to the car.
“Hope you don’t mind,” said Ed. “But I think it’s my turn to drive.”
“Sure,” I said.
Moments later we were both in the car and ready to go. Ed gunned the engine and soon we were on our way, the sun setting in brilliant fashion ahead of us as the night sky twinkled above.
TO BE CONTINUED
KEEP READING FOR A SNEAK PREVIEW OF SOUND OF SURVIVAL BOOK 3: HOME FREE
Home Free
1 Amy
May 9 2020; 22:00 Pacific Time
It was so strange to have a quiet night. Even before the EMP, quiet evenings weren’t something that I was used to. It seemed like every night the guys would be having one party or another, carrying on into the small hours.
And then these last thirty-six hours… They were like nothing else I’d ever been through, nothing I could’ve imagined. As I sat in the passenger’s seat of the Mustang, Ed’s eyes fixed on the road ahead, I tried my best to lose myself in the still night, letting the gentle growl of the engine and the vibrations of the wheels on the road lull me into some kind of trance.
Every now and then Ed would slow the car down in order to drive around one abandoned vehicle or another, one that had been struck dead where it stood by the EMP.
“Pain in my ass,” he grumbled under his breath.
“Huh?” I asked, taking my attention away from the desert and the stars above.
“These cars,” he said, gesturing ahead. “Clogging up the damn road.”
I looked ahead and saw right away what he’d been talking about. My attention had been elsewhere, but now that I had my eyes on the road I could see that it was bad. Cars weren’t just here and there—the road was thick with them, and there didn’t seem to be any sign of them easing up.
“Bet it’s like this all the way to LA,” Ed huffed.
“Probably even worse the closer to the city,” I added.
“No doubt,” he said. “You think LA traffic’s bad normally? Imagine it with ninety-nine percent of the cars on the road dead as fucking doornails.”
He sighed, shaking his head. “Normally, hitting Sandy Vista from the Dead Air site should take a little more than an hour. But with all this shit on the road…I’m thinking hours.”
“Couldn’t we just drive on the side?” I asked, my eyes flicking to the sands on both sides of the road. “Looks pretty clear.”
“Clear until we slam into one of those stragglers who’s dehydrated, on two hours of sleep and has no reaction time,” Ed said. “Don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like cleaning anyone off my windshield tonight.”
“Colorful,” I said.
“You get what I’m saying. Not to mention these cars aren’t built for off-road. It’s not like we can swing by the local mechanic if we need to fix anything.”
I couldn’t argue with him there.
Ed reached forward and gave the dashboard a pat.
“We need to take care of the girl,” he said. “Might be the only working car we get our hands on for a long, long time.”
“The ‘girl’?” I asked with a grin. “You’ve decided the car’s sex?”
“Well, you know,” he said. “Cars and boats and all that—they’re always ladies.”
“Hmm,” I said. “I think we ought to buck tradition.”
He took his eyes off the road for the first time since we’d started talking, flashing me an incredulous expression.
“What’re you talking about?”
“You know,” I said. “Make it a dude instead.”
Ed raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know about that. Seems like it’d be bad luck or something. Plus, you know…” He trailed off.
“What?” I asked.
He hesitated for a moment, as if he didn’t want to say what he had on his mind.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Just feels weird to drive a dude.”
I laughed, the first time I’d laughed in a long while.
“It’s not a real dude, if that helps,” I said.
“I know, I know,” he said.
“Come on,” I said. “Let the car be a guy, and let me name him.”
Ed shook his head and let out a soft sigh. “Fine,” he said. “Go ahead and name him, if that’s what’ll make you happy.”
“It will,” I said through a smile. “But let me think…”
I closed my eyes, trying to focus on letting a name just come to
mind. As I did, I felt the car slow down, followed by a few lazy turns as Ed steered it around yet more cars in the road.
“His name is…” I said, pausing to increase the suspense. “Franz.”
“Franz?” Ed shot out. “You seriously want to name the car Franz?”
“Sure,” I said. “Why not?”
“Doesn’t sound right,” he said. “Sounds too…stuffy. Like the name of a nerdy German engineering student.”
I laughed. “I like it,” I said. “You don’t?”
“I mean, if we’re gonna give the car a guy’s name then it should be a cool one.”
“And what’s a ‘cool’ name in your book?”
“Hmm,” said Ed, sounding as if he was giving the matter some serious thought. “Something like Randy. Or Chet.”
I laughed again. “Those are cool names to you?”
“Sure,” he said. “Especially for a car like this.”
“No way,” I said. “I called it, and I’m picking Franz. Sounds sophisticated and worldly, but also not scared of getting his hands dirty.”
“Cars don’t have hands,” Ed said.
“They don’t have sexes either. But I just gave him one.”
Ed chuckled, pushing the pedal for a moment and building up some speed before slowing down again for some more cars in the road.
“Well, Franz,” I said, reaching forward and patting the dash like Ed had done a few moments before. “Hopefully this is the beginning of a long, beautiful friendship. What do you say?”
“He says ‘pick me out a better name,’” Ed said with a grin.
“How about this,” I said. “When we find another car you can name it whatever you want. Randy or Rusty or Dustin or whatever.”
“Deal,” he said. “Hopefully I get the chance to take you up on that oh-so-generous offer.”
“Maybe we can find a semi,” I said. “Just smash through these cars.”
“God, that’d be nice,” he said. “Or a tank. ’Cause as it stands it might be morning before we get to where we’re going.”
Silence fell over the car again as I turned my attention back to the road. I wanted to get there, to be back with Mom, to make sure she was okay. I knew it sounded immature to be confronted with disaster and think about nothing other than running back home, but I needed it. Just a few days to sit and process this all felt essential.
We drove on, Ed carefully weaving us through hundreds of cars that were dead on the road. From time to time I’d spot one or more people shambling down the side of the road, people from Dead Air. They all had the same looks on their faces: shocked and dazed and barely cognizant of what was going on.
And, every now and then, I spotted a figure spread out into the sand, someone dead or dying. Part of me wanted to tell Ed to stop and pull over so we could do something. But then I’d remember what he’d said about helping, how it’d likely just mean a mob swarming us and taking the car and whatever else we had before leaving us in the desert.
Ed broke the silence with a pointed throat-clearing, like he was getting ready to say something he wasn’t sure he ought to.
“Hey,” he said. “You…you doing all right over there?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but realized quickly that I didn’t have the faintest idea of how to begin answering the question.
“I mean, I know it’s probably hard to even think about,” Ed went on. “But I just…figured I’d check in.”
I chewed my lip for a moment before speaking.
“I appreciate it,” I said. “Truth be told, I don’t know. I feel okay right now. Just want to get to my mom. But I have a feeling that once I do, it’s going to hit me hard, all at once.”
“It just might,” he said. “But when it does it’ll be when you’re safe and sound and your brain’s got time to process it. So if you’re feeling overwhelmed, just keep in mind that it means you’re in a good place, in a matter of speaking.”
“Yeah,” I said, trailing off. “What about you? How are you doing?”
“Me?” he said, as if totally surprised that I’d ask. “I’m fine.”
“You’re fine?” I asked. “Just totally fine?”
“Not fine as in ‘one fine day,’ but fine as in…‘everything’s manageable for now.’ Just want to focus on putting as much distance between us and those Black Mountain pricks as possible.”
“You think they’ll come after us?”
“They might,” Ed said. “But we gave ’em a hell of a black eye. Dante might not’ve even survived the crash, and if he did he’ll be dealing with the fact that we’ve taken out a handful of his men and a good chunk of whatever working cars he had. As much as he might want his revenge, there’s a good chance he’s not in a position to do anything other than lick his wounds and try his best not to get caught up in that shitshow back at the festival.”
I felt no small amount of relief at Ed’s words.
“But don’t get too comfy,” he went on. “We need to stay frosty. We need to make sure Ramirez didn’t die in vain.”
Ramirez. Just the sound of his name hurt to hear.
Ed must’ve sensed that the mood in the car changed on a dime at the mention of the man who’d saved both of our lives with his sharp shooting. He cleared his throat once more and spoke again.
“So,” he said. “Sandy Vista. You grew up there, right?”
I got the sense he was changing the subject so as to take my mind off things more than anything else, but I was glad for it all the same.
“Yeah,” I said. “All my life until I moved to LA.”
“And you liked it?”
I was ready to give him a quick “yeah, sure,” but then I caught myself thinking about it a little more.
“I…I did, yeah,” I said.
“It’s weird,” Ed said. “I know we’re kinda close to LA, but still seems like it’s out in the middle of nowhere.”
“That was the idea,” I said. “Sandy Vista’s a planned community—they billed it as ‘Your Oasis in the Desert.’ There was a plant out there, it made some electronic something-or-others, and had this little community of a few hundred workers around it.”
“Sure,” he said.
“Years ago, some developers got the idea of moving in there and plopping a planned community in the middle of the whole thing, a place where families could live away from the insanity of LA.”
“So more than just the ‘palm trees in the middle of the desert’ kind of oasis.”
“Exactly,” I said. “Gated fence and everything. The kind of neighborhood everyone dreams of when they’re in LA. Sure, the location wasn’t all the convenient, but the price meant families could have a place to live and know their kids would grow up safe.”
“Sounds kind of nice,” said Ed.
“It really was,” I said, memories of my youth flooding back. “Very peaceful. Lots of kids to play with, a little nature to explore, small schools, all that good stuff. And every now and then we’d load up the car and take a day trip to LA whenever we needed a little civilization.”
“But you moved away,” he said.
“It was nice out there,” I said. “But it didn’t last. About ten years ago the plant went under and closed down. And when it went, pretty much everyone else who lived there went with it. Eventually, just the planned subdivision was left. Place was like a ghost town. And I was getting older, starting to think about the world outside of my hometown. So, when I finished school I got out of there.”
“Everyone’s gone?” Ed asked.
“Everyone but the few dozen houses that made up the subdivision. Everyone there was retired or worked from home and didn’t really have any reason to leave. And the homeowner’s association that took care of power and water and all that was well-funded, so I guess they didn’t have any reason to peace out.”
“Man,” he said. “So what, like fifty people out in the middle of the desert? How do they not go crazy?”
“It’s a pretty tight-knit community out
there,” I said. “And you know how people are when they get old—no offense.”
“Hey,” he said. “I’m not that old.”
I flashed him a grin to let him know I was only kidding around.
“Not to mention that they all are bought into those homes. It’s not like they could get out even if they wanted to. There isn’t exactly a booming market for tract housing in the middle of an abandoned factory town.”
“And your mom…she likes it out there?”
“Mom’s happy,” I said. “I think. I mean…it’s not like I talk to her enough to really know what’s going on with her these days.”
Ed nodded, getting what I was hinting at.
“Then you can change that now,” he said. “Bet you anything she’s not thinking about anything other than what her little girl’s up to now, hoping you’re safe. She’ll lose her mind with happiness once she lays eyes on you.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’ll be good to see her. You know how it goes…you make a mental note to check in, then a little time goes by, then a little more… Before you know it, it’s been a really, really long time.”
“I get it,” Ed said. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t call.”
His tone was surprisingly sharp, but he caught himself before I had a chance to respond. “Sorry. Don’t mean to give you the business. I just know how it is to be on the other side of all that.”
I wanted to ask him more, to see if he’d open up about what he was talking about. But before the conversation could continue, Ed barked out.
“Ah, shit!”
My eyes flicked forward. I didn’t need him to explain what he was upset about.
Across the road was a jackknifed semi, the vehicle crashed on its side across the entire road. There was no way forward. At least, not without going off-road.
“Looks like we’re gonna be driving through the desert after all,” he said. “And, uh, you mind if we take a break? I kinda need to stretch my legs.”
“Sure,” I said. “That actually sounds kind of nice.”
Ed gave an affirmative grunt before turning the car towards the desert. He drove and drove until we were far enough away from the road that no one could spot us.