The Hunted

by Matt De La Peña

  Shoeshine was suddenly hovering over her shoulder, pointing through the windshield. “Get us to that underpass!”

  A man leaned out the open door of the helicopter and fired a shot. Shy ducked as the bullet burrowed into the hood of the van.

  “Fuck!” Carmen cranked the wheel toward the median and then quickly straightened out.

  “What’s happening?” Marcus shouted.

  The helicopter flew slightly ahead of the van and turned, giving the man hanging out the door a clear shot. “Get down!” Shy yelled. The side mirror exploded into pieces.

  Carmen swerved again.

  As the bridge ahead of them grew closer, an idea came to Shy. “Turn off the engine!” he shouted.

  “What?” Carmen shouted back. “We’re too far!”

  Another shot pierced the hood of the van.

  “Just do it!” Shy shouted. “Coast in neutral the rest of the way! I have a plan!” He was surprised Shoeshine didn’t ask any questions. The man just climbed back to Marcus and took hold of the duffel.

  Carmen shut off the engine and let the van coast.

  The gunman fired off two more rounds, one shattering the driver’s-side window, the other puncturing a back tire. The helicopter then rose slightly to avoid the bridge.

  As soon as the van was underneath the bridge, Shy shouted, “Stop here!”

  Carmen hit the brakes, and the van screeched to a stop.

  The engine stalled.

  Shy scrambled into the back and cranked open the sliding side door and motioned everyone out. Carmen climbed into the back and jumped out first. Shy and Shoeshine carried Marcus out onto the shoulder of the freeway, where they laid him on his back. Shoeshine limped back to the van for the duffel while Carmen grabbed their backpacks.

  Shy couldn’t see the helicopter, which meant it was hovering directly above the bridge, waiting to pick them off when they came out. Dirt and debris swirled all around, getting in his eyes, coating his teeth.

  If his plan didn’t work, they were done.

  He jumped back into the van and slid the door closed. He grabbed Shoeshine’s makeshift cane and crawled up to the driver’s seat and started the van again, his breaths coming in great, rapid gulps. He shifted it into neutral, then snapped the stick over his knee and jammed one half between the gas pedal and the steering column.

  It stayed.

  The engine screamed.

  Please let this work, he kept repeating in his head.

  Please let this work.

  Please let this work.

  As he slid halfway out the driver’s-side door, though, the stick popped out. He quickly jammed it back in place again, making sure the gas pedal was pressed all the way to the floor. Then he cranked the van into drive and dove out onto the hard concrete.

  Shy watched from his stomach as the van lurched forward, careening out from underneath the bridge.

  The helicopter quickly emerged, following closely behind the van, the man hanging out the open door firing shot after shot through the back windshield, through the side, through the roof. The van continued on several hundred feet until the man shot out the front right tire. At that point the pest control van veered sharply toward the shoulder, where it clipped the back half of a pickup truck and flipped over. It landed on its side with a tremendous crash and slid into the median where it burst into flames.

  Shy was on his feet now, sucking in breaths, watching the fire. He looked back at Carmen. She was watching it, too. Shoeshine had his back turned, hovering over Marcus.

  Shy spun back around when he heard a flurry of gunshots. The helicopter was hovering directly over the flaming van, the gunman still hanging out the door and unloading his weapon. He kept firing until he ran out of ammo, and then the helicopter rose slightly and lingered there awhile, waiting to see if anyone would emerge from the fire.

  “Go on,” Shy mumbled. “Get the hell outta here.”

  Carmen was beside him now. Both of them standing in the shadow of the bridge, watching the chopper.

  To Shy’s great relief, it dipped its nose, spun to the east and started flying off. He moved out from under the bridge slightly to watch it go.

  “Holy shit,” Carmen said, grabbing Shy by the wrist.

  Shy turned to her, nodding. His plan had actually worked.

  Carmen stared at the fading dot in the sky with him for several seconds, her chest rising and falling. When the chopper had all but disappeared she turned to Shoeshine and Marcus and shouted: “They’re gone!”

  Shoeshine didn’t turn around, though.

  Shy saw he had Marcus in his arms again, rocking him back and forth rhythmically. But now he was kissing his ear every once in a while, too.

  Carmen looked disturbed. “What’s he doing?” she asked Shy.

  “Hey, Shoe!” Shy called out. When the man still didn’t turn around, Shy motioned for Carmen to follow him.

  37

  The Pure of Heart

  “How bad is it?” Carmen asked.

  Shoeshine gave her an odd smile. “He’s going to be just fine. Aren’t you, boy?”

  Shy watched a wide-eyed Marcus look up at him and Carmen in shock. His face covered in sweat. “I’m okay,” he managed to say.

  “You have my word,” Shoeshine told Marcus. “Everything’s going to be fine because the three of us love you. And there’s nothing in this world as powerful as love. You know that, boy?”

  Marcus nodded and swallowed hard. He made a move to lift his bloody shirt, to look at his bullet wound, but Shoeshine brushed his hand away and continued pressing one of his spare shirts against Marcus’s wound.

  Blood was caked all down Marcus’s right side. It wasn’t just the two shirts anymore, it was his jeans, too. And Shoeshine’s jeans. Shy cringed and turned to look up and down the freeway. There wasn’t much around. A few caved-in fast-food places. A torched motel. Marcus needed medical attention immediately. Or else he’d bleed out. But where were they supposed to take him out here?

  “Young fella,” Shoeshine said to Shy. “You did good. That was the right move with the van.”

  Shy nodded.

  “You see?” Shoeshine let go of the duffel bag long enough to pat Shy on his shoe. “You’re becoming who you already are.”

  For half a second Shy felt a swell of pride, but he quickly shook himself free of it. None of that mattered now. Not with his friend in such a bad way.

  “We gotta do something,” Carmen said.

  “You think we can carry him?” Shy asked Shoeshine. “Or should I try and find someone to bring here?”

  “Let’s take a minute to catch our breath,” Shoeshine said, and he resumed rocking Marcus in his arms.

  “We don’t have a minute!” Shy snapped. “He needs help now!”

  A tear streaked down Carmen’s face as she kneeled next to Marcus and took his hand. “We’ll get you help,” she told him. “I promise.”

  “I’m okay,” Marcus answered. His eyes shifted to Shy. “I’m okay,” he said again, like he actually believed the lies Shoeshine was feeding him.

  But Shy knew better. Even if he took off running right this second, how long would it take him to find someone who could help? And if they carried Marcus, how far would they be able to get him? Especially once it started getting hot again?

  Shy turned back to Shoeshine. “How close are we to San Bernardino?”

  “We’re in San Bernardino,” Shoeshine answered.

  This gave Shy a glimmer of hope. “So you know somewhere we can take him?”

  “Of course I know somewhere we can take him.” Shoeshine closed his eyes as he continued calmly rocking Marcus. He used his big leathery hands to massage Marcus’s temples and around his ears.

  Carmen stood up and looked at Shy. “What are we waiting for? We have to go.”

  “Shoe,” Shy said. “Come on, man.”

  Instead of answering, the man began humming in Marcus’s ear. It only took a few seconds for Shy to recognize the song. It was th
e same one Shoeshine had hummed to the two girls they’d buried near the motor home. Shy’s heart started beating faster.

  “Shoe, come on,” Carmen tried again.

  Shoeshine leaned forward and kissed Marcus on the ear again, then positioned his hands on the sides of Marcus’s face and hummed louder.

  “Shoe,” Shy pleaded.

  “I’m okay,” Marcus said, his wide eyes darting every which way.

  Shoeshine hummed and rocked Marcus back and forth, back and forth, and then he made a sudden jerking movement, tweaking Marcus’s head so violently in his hands that Shy could actually hear his friend’s neck snap, and he watched Marcus’s body immediately go slack, his head falling against Shoeshine’s chest and his eyes rolling back.

  “Jesus fucking Christ!” Carmen screamed, turning away.

  Shy lunged away from Shoeshine and Marcus, sick to his stomach. He covered his face with his hands and walked out from under the bridge, his whole body trembling. He kneeled down and spit on the concrete.

  “Jesus Christ, Shoe!” Carmen screamed again. “What the fuck are you doing!”

  Shy pulled at his own hair. He was so sickened by what he’d just seen and heard he couldn’t think straight. Then he hopped back up and marched over to Shoeshine, shouting: “You killed him, Shoe! You fucking killed Marcus!”

  Shoeshine cracked open his eyes lazily and looked up at Shy. But he didn’t say anything. And he was still rocking Marcus’s lifeless body.

  Shy was choking on anger now. He clenched his fists, wanting to crack Shoeshine in the side of the face. Or kick him in his stitched-up leg. Or snap his neck.

  But he didn’t do any of that.

  He just stood there in disbelief. Carmen beside him sobbing.

  Shoeshine finally stopped rocking. He slipped out from under Marcus’s lifeless body and struggled to his feet to face Shy. “Those who are pure of heart will not suffer unnecessarily.”

  Rage pulsed through Shy’s body.

  He was so pissed at Shoeshine he could feel his veins raising under his skin. But it wasn’t just Shoeshine. He was pissed at the gunman who shot Marcus, too. And he was pissed at the earthquakes and the tsunamis and his decision to board a Paradise cruise ship in the first place. But all that combined couldn’t match the rage he felt for LasoTech. And Addie’s dad. There was no way he’d be able to go on living with this much rage bubbling inside.

  “You don’t get to decide!” Carmen screamed at Shoeshine. She wiped her wet face and glanced at Shy between sobs. Then she turned back to Shoeshine. “You don’t get to decide for someone else!”

  Shoeshine slung the duffel bag over his shoulder, then reached down and lifted Marcus’s body into his arms and began carrying him out from under the bridge like a small child. He was limping badly. Near the shoulder he stumbled a bit and had to kneel down. “Help me get the boy out onto the field so I can bury him,” he said, looking back at Shy.

  “You don’t get to decide,” Carmen said again. But this time her words came out softer.

  Shy realized the blood on Shoeshine’s jeans wasn’t from Marcus. He could tell because it was still spreading. And it was in the same spot where the man had been shot. He must have torn open his stitches somehow.

  Shoeshine stood again, still staring at Shy. “We do what has to be done, young fella. And we do it without ego or sentimentality. All life is one life.”

  Shy glanced at Carmen, who was sobbing uncontrollably.

  He was so confused. Just last night he and Marcus had a long conversation in the gutter. And Marcus broke the news that he was going home.

  Now Marcus was dead.

  Shy flashed on Shoeshine tweaking his friend’s neck again. The awful sound it made. How his body went limp and his eyes rolled back.

  Shy wasn’t naive. He’d seen all the blood leaking out of his friend’s gunshot wound. And he knew there was no one around to help. But did that give Shoeshine the right to end Marcus’s life so violently?

  Shoeshine shook his head and struggled to his feet again, cradling Marcus’s body. He began limping out onto the field by himself, leaving Shy and Carmen to mourn under the bridge.

  38

  Incompetent Burial

  They didn’t have anything to dig a grave with, so they placed Marcus’s body in the gutter at the shoulder of the freeway and covered him with sand and leaves and what little chalky dirt they could dig up with their bare hands. The three of them worked beside each other in silence for over an hour. Carmen was no longer crying. But she wouldn’t look at Shy. Shoeshine was favoring his injured leg so much Shy wondered how he’d be able to continue now that they would be on foot.

  A single bird circled lazily overhead, like it was watching them.

  Twice they had to duck inside the gutter to hide from a passing vehicle. The first time it was the black SUV that had appeared back near the circle of bodies. Shy could tell by the spidered windshield and the bullet holes in the door. The SUV rolled by slowly, its driver scanning both sides of the freeway, no doubt looking for Shy, Carmen and Marcus. But then Shy saw something else. The SUV was pulling a trailer that held two brand-new metallic gray motorcycles. It was the same SUV he’d seen outside the Sony lots when they were leaving. The driver had tracked them all the way out into the desert.

  The second vehicle was even more menacing. A jacked-up black Hummer. There were two people inside wearing military-style gas masks even though the windows were rolled up. Shy shook his head as he watched the vehicle disappear down the freeway. How many people had LasoTech sent after them? All because of the duffel bag resting inside the gutter near Shoeshine’s feet.

  When they’d covered Marcus the best they could, Shoeshine kneeled beside the makeshift grave and said a few quiet words Shy couldn’t make out.

  Carmen shot Shy a dirty look and stormed off.

  Shy stayed, though, studying the man. His gray hair was wild and partially burned. But his braided chin beard was still perfectly intact, like that part of him was indestructible or somehow otherworldly. Who was this man who could snap Marcus’s neck with his bare hands? Shy realized he didn’t know any more about Shoeshine today than he did back when Shoeshine rescued him and Addie in the middle of the ocean.

  Then a strange thought occurred to Shy. Maybe Marcus was the lucky one. Everything worthwhile had seemingly been destroyed by the earthquakes and fires. The disease that feasted on anyone in its path. And now LasoTech hit men were hunting them down like dogs. All this for what? So Shy could walk through the scorching-hot desert, starving and dehydrated, for the next several days?

  He played with the ring in his pocket as he watched Shoeshine hover over his friend. Was this a life he even wanted anymore? Everyone he’d ever cared about was gone.

  Everyone except Carmen.

  When Shoeshine finally moved away from the makeshift grave, Shy took his place. He stood there for several minutes, remembering his friend back on the ship. Doing all that hip-hop dancing on the outdoor stage. A crowd of people staring. “We won’t forget you,” Shy mumbled. Then he turned and followed Shoeshine and Carmen through an open field of dried-out shrubs just north of the freeway. All of them walking a good distance from one another. Carmen’s eyes still puffy from crying. Shoeshine limping badly, but still leading.

  As they approached a small tent community on the far side of the field, Shy glanced back one more time at the stretch of freeway where they’d just buried Marcus.

  A sickening feeling spread through his veins. There were several birds circling above Marcus now. Vultures, he realized. Waiting until it was safe to descend.

  39

  Arrowhead in the Mountainside

  A few men from the tent community gathered to watch Shy, Carmen and Shoeshine approach. Cutting through their area suddenly didn’t seem like such a good idea. But to Shy’s surprise the men didn’t do or say anything. They let them march right into their long line of tents.

  “It’s a damn miracle,” Shy said under his breath. “
I figured everyone wanted to shoot at us.”

  Carmen glanced at Shy but didn’t say anything.

  Shy saw a few small kids playing with toy trucks, and he saw a group of women gathered around a large pot that hung over an open flame, and he saw a kid around his age leaning against a tree, watching them. It didn’t take long to pass through the entire community, and then it was more open field. Shy and Carmen followed a limping Shoeshine in silence, toward a cluster of brown hills to the north.

  —

  Hours spiraled by.

  The temperature rose with the blurry sun, and soon the dry heat pressed down on Shy, making it hard to breathe. He was exhausted—from the walking and the stress of everything that had happened. His shins ached. His left knee creaked. He took off his shirt and wrapped it around his head, the way he had every day on the sailboat. Back then, he would’ve given anything to set foot on dry land like this. Now all he wanted to do was throw himself in the cold ocean.

  Carmen tied her hair in a knot at the back of her head. Shy tried to talk to her a few times, but she only gave one-word answers.

  Shoeshine led them over rolling hills, through tiny run-down neighborhoods built on potholed roads, up a steep paved street that cut through a more modern-looking housing development, which had been badly damaged in the earthquakes. They passed very few people, and nobody hassled them about zones. They just stopped whatever it was they were doing and watched.

  —

  By the time the sun was directly overhead, Shy had fallen a few steps behind and he concentrated on the rhythm of his own footsteps. He forgot about Carmen and Shoeshine, and he forgot about the relentless desert heat and the sticky sweat running down his back, and he forgot about the wind whistling past his ears and the buzz of insects and the yips of distant coyotes. He simply walked, occasionally fingering the ring in his pocket. At first he thought about Marcus. Then he thought about what his dad said about back home. But soon he wasn’t thinking about anything at all. His mind went blank. And he realized a blank mind was sometimes a powerful thing. Maybe this was why those Buddhist people always sat around meditating. It was like you existed beyond yourself. Or not at all. He couldn’t decide which.