SHY, CARMEN and MARCUS: Yes.
DJ DAN: And you know that they’ve threatened to shoot anyone they catch moving from zone to zone?
SHY, CARMEN and MARCUS: Yes.
DJ DAN: Gas is extremely limited and unregulated. Chances are you’ll be making this trip by foot. You understand this?
SHY, CARMEN and MARCUS: Yes.
DJ DAN: Not to mention that it’s extremely difficult to get access to government drops when you’re not in an established zone. It’s very possible you’ll run out of food and water somewhere along the way. [Pause.] And knowing all this, you’re still willing to make this trip east?
CARMEN and MARCUS: Yes.
SHY: You don’t understand, mister. We don’t have a choice.
Day 47
28
How to Ride
“I guess all we can do now is hope they were listening, right?” Carmen said.
Shy nodded. “Or at least somebody told them about it.”
“If they’re even still alive, that is.” Carmen ate a slice of her orange, staring at one of the fake lifeboats that were attached to the side of the fake cruise ship. The sun behind the fake atrium was just beginning to peek its head out.
Shy shrugged and rested his Styrofoam bowl in his lap while he took a sip from his water bottle.
“All those things DJ Dan told us last night,” Carmen said, “did they freak you out?”
Shy nodded. “But it’s not like he told us anything new.”
“I guess.”
Shy spooned the last bit of grainy gray mush into his mouth and set the bowl on the ground beside him. The Sony lots’ cold oatmeal tasted like ass, but he knew he needed the nutrients. As soon as the sun went back down, the four of them were leaving the lots for good and heading for Arizona. Who knew how long the supplies they’d stuffed inside their backpacks would have to last.
As Shy watched Carmen look up at a helicopter passing overhead, he fingered the ring in his pocket. It was the reason he’d asked her to follow him out to the Cruise Ship lot after they woke up. He was going to give it to her now, in case anything happened. And it wasn’t some big romantic, marriage kind of gesture either. He just wanted her to have it. As friends.
Now if he could just figure out the right way to explain it.
“Uh, Shy?” Carmen said, jarring him out of his head.
“Yeah?” He shoved the ring back in his pocket.
“Is that who I think it is?” Carmen pointed down the narrow main path that ran between the various lots.
Shy stood up.
He wasn’t surprised to see his old man again. Only he wasn’t on the other side of the fence this time. He was inside the property. And instead of wearing his leather Suzuki gear and green gas mask, he was rocking a plain old Raiders T-shirt and jeans, and he was walking his motorcycle up the narrow path, toward them.
The man stopped about twenty yards away and called out: “Shy! Come over here, boy! I wanna talk to you!”
Carmen stood up, too, shouting: “That’s too bad, vato, ’cause Shy doesn’t wanna talk to you!”
“It’s fine,” Shy told her in a quiet voice.
She gave him a dirty look. “You sure?”
He nodded. Before falling asleep the night before, he’d made a decision. He needed to find out what his dad knew about back home. No matter what it was. “Lemme get this over with, and I’ll come find you.”
“That’s really what you want?”
Shy nodded.
Carmen looked at his dad again, telling Shy: “I’ll be on the main lawn if you need me.”
Another helicopter flew overhead as Shy watched Carmen start back down the path carrying orange peels and Shy’s half-empty bowl. She slowed a bit to glare at his old man before brushing past his bike, nearly knocking the thing over.
Shy’s dad waited until Carmen was at the bottom of the path before turning back to Shy. “Just like your old man,” he said with a grin. “You dig the ones with attitude.” He motioned toward the Wild West lot. “Follow me.”
“I’m not like you at all,” Shy mumbled as he followed his dad.
—
“So, I heard you on the radio last night,” his dad said, leaning his bike on its stand inside the fenced-off horse run. Behind them was a row of enclosed stables that looked too small to house an actual horse. “You aren’t really thinking of leaving, are you?”
Shy shrugged. “Why you wearing regular clothes?”
“They make us check everything at the front before we come in. And then they put us through the same tests as everyone else.” Shy’s old man peeked inside one of the empty stables. “I can’t let you leave here, Shy. It’s too dangerous. And this is my second chance.”
“Second chance for what?” Shy said.
“To be your dad.” He turned and looked right into Shy’s eyes. “Like I told you yesterday, son. Those earthquakes changed me.”
Shy looked away. He focused on the inside of the stables. He’d followed his dad out here to ask about his family back home. His real family. Not to listen to the same empty promises his dad had been feeding him since Shy could remember.
“I’ve been thinking about something you said yesterday.” His dad cleared his throat. “About me never teaching you anything.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore—”
“No, you were right,” his dad said, cutting him off. “Lemme ask you this. Ever ridden a motorcycle before?”
Shy shook his head. Even though he’d rehearsed it in his head, he was nervous to ask about back home. What if his dad really knew something and it was really bad? Would he be able to deal?
“I’m gonna teach you how to ride.” His dad patted the seat of his motorcycle for Shy to get on.
“Look, I followed you out here for one reason,” Shy said. He cleared his throat. “What do you know about back home? Honestly, did something happen to Mom?”
His dad ignored him. “You don’t wanna get on, that’s fine. I’ll just talk you through it instead.” The man climbed on the bike and held up the key. Then he slipped it into the ignition. “First you turn the key like this. See how that red light just came on? That means it’s ready to start. Gears work like this.” He pointed to the thin round pedal underneath his right foot. “Down is first. Up one from that is neutral. Up from that is second and so on.”
“Come on, Pop,” Shy said, getting pissed.
“Hang on,” his dad said. “Let me show you this first. Then I’ll answer whatever questions you got.”
Shy heard another engine in the distance. It sounded different than a motorcycle, though. Bigger. His dad turned toward it, too. When the sound faded, Shy said: “Let’s just get this over with then.”
“Being able to ride is important out here, boy. You’ve seen the roads.” When Shy didn’t say anything back, his dad added: “You don’t have to decide right this second, but I’ve been thinking…if you really don’t wanna stay here, maybe you could ride with me and the guys. The shit we’re doing is important, son.”
Shy almost laughed in his dad’s face. Did he really think Shy was gonna ditch Carmen, Marcus and Shoeshine to ride with the group of thugs that tried to set his motor home on fire? It’s not that he wanted anything bad to happen to his dad. In fact, if he could, he’d sneak him one of the syringes to protect him from the disease. But at the same time, he didn’t want his dad thinking they were gonna skip off together in some kind of bullshit happy ending.
“I’m getting ahead of myself, though. We can talk about that later.” His dad turned to his bike again. “So once you turn on the ignition, you hold in the clutch with your hand like this, and you kick down into first gear.”
As his dad went on with his little motorcycle lesson, Shy’s thoughts drifted to his family back home. He pictured their faces. His mom’s. His sister’s. Miguel’s. What would he do if he found out something had happened to them?
“Just tell me the truth,” Shy finally said, cutting off his dad. “What do
you know?”
The man paused, staring at Shy.
“I deserve the truth.”
His dad took a deep breath and blew it out slow. “Look, I spoke to Teresa only a few hours before the earthquakes,” he said. “Miguel didn’t make it. He died of the disease.”
Shy just stood there, staring at his dad. His body going cold. He’d almost expected this part, but it still hit him like a brick. “I thought they had him on meds, though.”
His dad nodded. “I’m telling you what I heard.”
Shy turned away, imagining Mr. Miller’s face. Imagining how the man’s expression would change if he stuck him with a knife. “What about Mom and Teresa?”
“Look, Shy,” his dad said. “If you just stay here a little longer—”
“Come on, Pop,” Shy said, begging this time. “Just…please. Tell me what you know.”
“I don’t know anything. Not for sure.”
Shy shifted his gaze to the ground, wanting to believe that was it, but he knew his dad was holding something back. “What do you think, though?”
“I’ll say this, okay?” His dad lifted Shy’s chin so their eyes met.
Shy’s ears were already ringing in anticipation. Because he could sense it. The news he was about to hear would change everything.
“A day after the earthquakes,” his dad went on, “I got through to a guy I used to work with in Chula Vista on my phone. This was right before the last of the cell towers went down.” He took a breath and let it out slowly. “Otay Mesa’s gone, mijo. All the surrounding towns, too. Anyone who survived the earthquakes was wiped out by the fires.” He paused. “They’re all gone, mijo. Down there was hit harder than any other place in the state.”
Shy’s stomach climbed into his throat, and he kneeled down and stuck his palms against the dirt.
He pictured his mom. Dead.
His sister. Dead.
There was no longer anything for him back home. Or anywhere else. Because maybe he was dead, too.
His dad tried to pull Shy up by his shoulders. “Listen to me, Shy. We’ll get through this together. Because I realized something. You’re all I ever had in this world. I mean that shit honestly.”
Shy stayed on his hands and knees, staring at the dirt, for several minutes. The faint sound of his dad’s empty words raining down on his head. When he’d imagined this moment earlier in the morning, he saw himself shouting at the sky. And sobbing. But he didn’t do either of those things now. He just sat there, numb, his eyes out of focus.
A loud crashing sound made him finally look up.
It came from somewhere on the property.
“What the fuck?” he heard his dad mumble.
Shy then heard the loud revving of an engine. Same one as before, only closer now. Then he saw a black SUV drive right through a row of thick hedges, into the Wild West lot.
Shy scrambled to his feet.
Two men dressed in black jumped out of the vehicle on the far side of the horse run and pulled out handguns.
Before Shy could react, the men were marching forward and firing, their bullets cutting tracks in the dirt beside his feet.
29
Empty Trailer
Shy’s dad shoved him onto the dirt behind the fake horse stables as shots rang out around them. Shy scrambled to his feet in a panic, watching his dad hop on his bike and kick-start the engine and motion for Shy to get on. Shy peeked around the side of the stables. The two men were advancing across the horse run. They stopped firing their weapons long enough for one to shout directions at the other. Then they split up, the leader moving toward the perimeter of the lot.
“Come on!” his dad shouted, smacking the seat behind him. “Lemme get us outta here!”
Shy’s breath came in great, rapid gulps. Behind the shed was a slight hill that led to a small, barn-style house. He peered around the side of the stables again. The other man was heading directly toward them, gun raised. Shy didn’t know what to do or who these people were or what they wanted. But he knew he couldn’t leave with his dad.
“I said get on!” his dad shouted again. “Now!”
Shy took off up the hill instead, a few shots ripping through the trees to the right of him. He dove behind a large camera crane and lay there, sucking in breaths and looking up at the sky and listening. He heard the sound of the idling truck, and he heard his dad’s bike zipping out from behind the stables, and he heard a faint commotion down near the main lawn.
The one thing he didn’t hear was gunfire.
Shy gathered himself and lifted his head to take another look. He spotted his dad gunning it right at one of the armed men. The man fired two shots, missing both times, then turned to run just as Shy’s dad barreled into him, sending the gun and the man flying.
His dad swerved so sharply he had to put a foot down to keep his balance. The gunman scrambled across the dirt for his weapon.
Shy’s dad took off, but just then the other gunman emerged and shot him in the shoulder.
“Dad!” Shy shouted.
He watched his dad instinctively reach for his shoulder, causing the bike to crash right into the driver’s-side door of the idling truck. He quickly righted himself and lurched forward again, busting right through the flimsy wooden fence that surrounded the lot.
A wave of relief passed through Shy as he watched his old man gun it down the path that led to the main lawn.
The man Shy’s dad had hit slowly picked himself up off the ground and stood there, fumbling with his weapon. The other man was still marching toward the part of the fence Shy’s dad had just toppled, firing random shots. He turned toward an older man who stood frozen in the middle of the paved path and shot him in the forehead. The old man buckled instantly, the back of his head cracking against the pavement.
Shy scurried out from behind the camera crane and took off running the other way.
He raced through a few nearby lots, no idea where to go or how to escape, until he found himself on the Cruise Ship set again, where he ducked behind a café cart. He kneeled there trying to catch his breath, trying to think. He needed to get back down to the trailers to find Carmen and Marcus and Shoeshine, but he was afraid to take the main path. The men were shooting at anything that moved. And they’d eventually make their way down to the lawn, where they’d find the greatest concentration of people.
Darius had warned them about people throwing bottles and shooting out lights, but this seemed different. These guys were trying to kill everyone.
Shy imagined Carmen down there somewhere, caught in the cross fire. His heart pounded inside his chest. He had to protect her.
Then he pictured his mom.
And the things his dad told him about back home.
All of it wiped out.
Which meant…
Shy heard a few more pops of gunfire. They sounded farther away now. He sucked in a deep breath and forced himself out from behind the cart, out of the Cruise Ship lot.
He hurried down the main path, in plain sight. He kept waiting for someone to pop out of the bushes and blast him in the back. But there was nobody.
When he got down to the main lawn he slipped behind a skinny tree and took in the chaotic scene. One of the gunmen was hunkered down behind the back wall of the cafeteria, firing shots into a screaming crowd of people running every which way. There were a few bodies motionless on the ground. The other gunman lay facedown in the grass about twenty yards from the cafeteria. He wasn’t moving either. Three security guards were on the opposite side of the lawn, firing at the remaining gunman.
Shy cut through the row of caution-taped office buildings, emerging near the back row of trailers. He found his own and flung open the door and stuck his head inside, shouting his friends’ names, but the trailer was empty. Even their things were gone.
He let the door slam closed and looked around, anxiously. Where were they? And where was his dad?
People all around him were opening and closing their own trailer doors an
d calling out names, some openly sobbing, others slinking by, their eyes darting all around. One man raced past Shy carrying a screaming toddler over his shoulder. Shy was about to take off in that direction, too, when he heard someone shout his name over the commotion.
He spun around and saw Marcus hurrying toward him.
“Take this!” Marcus shouted, tossing Shy his backpack. “Follow me!”
They cut through the edge of the main lawn, where the guards were taking cover behind the massive trash bin. His dad was there, too, reloading a handgun. He glanced at Shy before turning back to the remaining gunman and firing.
Marcus grabbed Shy by the arm. “This way!” The two of them raced toward the front gate.
A large crowd had gathered around Darius and several other guards who were trying to calm them down. “Trust me, people!” Darius shouted. “It’s still safer than outside!”
“Shy!”
He spun toward Carmen’s voice. She and Shoeshine stood about twenty yards to the left of the crowd, half hidden behind a cluster of baby palms. Shoeshine had the duffel bag.
As Shy and Marcus hurried toward them, Shy saw a rolled-up sheet hanging down from a thick tree branch on the other side of the brick wall. “Shoe says we can use it to scale the wall!” Carmen shouted.
Shy nodded watching Marcus grab ahold of the sheet first and start climbing. It only took him a few seconds to make it to the top, where he pulled himself over the side and dropped out of sight.
Carmen went next.
Then Shy.
After Shoeshine finally made it over, still gripping the duffel and favoring his stitched-up leg, they hurried down the middle of the road, past the front gates.
At the first intersection, Shy spotted a second black SUV—same model as the one that had crashed into the lots. A trailer hitched to the back carried two brand-new metallic-gray motorcycles. The eyes of the man inside the SUV grew wide as he watched the four of them hurry by.
The Hunted Page 11