Thunder Road

by Thorne, Tamara

  The old man caught his breath. “Whore, you dare to touch an Elder Apostle! You dare to touch a man of God!”

  “You’re no man of God,” Cassie spat. “You’re a tiny little freak. You’re a stupid fanatic and you can go to hell!”

  “Campbell,” the old man said calmly. “Show her the way.”

  A broad-shouldered man stepped forward, a perverted smile plastered across his face. He raised his huge, meaty fist and drove it into Cassie’s gut. She fell.

  “Mommy!” Eve screamed as she broke free, running to her mother.

  “Go!” She could barely breathe, but she screamed the word as she dragged herself to her knees and launched herself at the old man, clinging to his leg, biting it through the filthy camouflage fatigues. Eve hesitated only a fraction of a second, then ran for all she was worth. One of the men gave chase, but tripped on his muddy robe. Eve zigzagged, eluding another and another.

  Then Campbell tried to pull Cassie off the old man, but she held on harder, biting until she felt the flesh give and she tasted blood. He screamed, and Cassie kicked and flailed. Pulling herself free of the man’s leg, she screamed, “Go! Go! Go!” then sank her teeth back into the old man’s flesh.

  They tried to pull her off their leader, yanking one of her arms back, but before they could get the other, she made a grab for the old man’s crotch.

  Bull’s-eye! The man screamed as she dug her fingers into his scrotum.

  “Stop her!” he screamed in a voice an octave higher than he’d used before. “Stop her!”

  As they fell upon her, she couldn’t see Eve anywhere. Please, God, let her live. Please let her live.

  102

  Justin Martin

  JUSTIN PULLED INTO THE NEARLY EMPTY PARKING LOT BEHIND Madland and parked near Carlo’s shop, right next to Alex Manderley’s Bronco, thinking that the fortune-teller must have pulled it around back after she left. He knew from asking around that Alex had ridden off with Tom Assholenathy and a bunch of the stuntmen to look for Eric Nerdface. Good fucking luck!

  Justin hadn’t bothered keeping his appointment with Hannibal Caine because that was small potatoes compared to what he and the Peeler were going to do. Last night he’d heard the Voice again when the town was blacked out, and it told him that what he planned was far more important than what the Apostles were doing.

  He trotted along the walkway to the main entrance and onto the Main Street sidewalk, keeping under the awnings as a steady sprinkle began again. Though Madland was open, it was virtually empty, and many of the shopkeepers hadn’t bothered to open. When he had showed up for work this morning in the pouring rain, it had been a cinch to talk Old Man Marquay into taking the day off. He promised to open up if the sun came out, and that meant he now had the day free.

  Carlo’s shop was closed, but the shop lights were on. He knocked on the door, and Carlo opened up. He wore a green butcher’s apron and held a broom and dustpan. His pleasant expression curdled when he saw Justin. “What do you want?”

  “I want to talk to you.”

  Carlo blocked the doorway for a long moment, then finally stood aside and gestured him inside, locking the door after him. “This way,” he ordered, and led him into his reading room. “Sit down.”

  Justin had never been in here before, and he looked around, impressed with the rich, dark colors, the candlesticks and stacks of cards, the Tiffany lamp in the corner. He sat at the table and reached for the crystal ball.

  “Don’t touch that.”

  Justin hesitated, then withdrew his hand.

  Carlo folded his arms and leaned against a rolltop desk. “What do you need to talk about?”

  “Tonight. What we’re, I mean you’re, going to do to Alex Manderley.”

  “Peel her,” the man said slowly. “What else is there to discuss?”

  “You’re going to do it?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re going to teach me?” he added hopefully.

  “You may watch. Whether you can learn or not is a question that remains unanswered.”

  The doorbell rang, and Carlo stood. “Come back tonight at midnight. You may go now.”

  Justin rose, in awe. The man was a king, a leader among men, with a voice so commanding that Manderley would probably peel her own skin from her bones if he asked. Even Jim-Bob Sinclair couldn’t match it. “Midnight,” he repeated, following Carlo back to the door.

  “Hello, Carlo,” Old Lady Quigley said as he opened the door. “Might I get a reading today?” She paused, spying Justin’s smiling face.

  “Certainly,” Carlo replied, his voice entirely different now, soft and respectful. “Justin was just leaving, weren’t you, Justin?”

  “Yes, sir. Have a nice day, Mrs. Quigley.” He trotted toward his car.

  Inside, he turned on the radio. “This is Diane Rice with the desert headlines. Flash flood warnings are in effect for the next twelve hours or until further notice. In Barstow, several homes have been heavily damaged by the storm. An earthquake measuring four point four on the Richter scale hit the high desert early this morning, causing only minor damage and spotty power outages and telephone problems. No injuries have been reported, but Cal Tech seismologists say that it was not, as previously thought, an aftershock of the 1992 Landers quake. Now back to Charlie Ray and the smooth sounds of Sheena Easton—”

  Justin slipped his Doors cassette into the player and thought about the Peeler. He wanted to impress the man tonight, more than he’d ever wanted anything. He wanted the Peeler to allow him to wield the knife under his watchful eye, he wanted to make him proud. He wondered if he should bring him another offering. Yes, maybe he should. Something that will really impress him. Something he’ll appreciate.

  “Come on, Christie, light my fire,” he sang as he headed for New Madelyn.

  103

  Eve Halloway

  WHEN HER MOTHER YELLED, “GO,” EVE HAD RUN AS FAST AS SHE could, straight to her favorite hiding place—up the little apple tree in the front yard and onto the front porch roof. She’d quickly crawled into the narrow space where the house’s eaves overhung the porch roof, and there she’d remained, watching as the bad people hunted for her.

  When they drove away, she crawled out and ran to the backyard, then into the house. Her mother was gone. Eve had tried to call Daddy after that, but the phone wouldn’t work, so she’d decided to do as her mother said, and go to Tom’s.

  Leaving the house, she found that it was raining again, harder every minute. She’d never walked to his house before, but she thought she knew how to get to it if she stayed on the road.

  But there was too much water on the highway to walk on it, and she fell down twice as the rain began pouring. Once, she was almost swept away, but she finally made it to the roadside, and though she didn’t even know which side of the street she was on, she started walking. It was raining so hard now that she couldn’t even tell where the mountains were to make sure she was going in the right direction.

  She walked forever, more and more worried about her mother. Those ghost people were hurting her, making her scream, and all Eve wanted to do was find Tom and make him take her to her daddy. He’d find her and put the bad people in jail.

  More time passed and she couldn’t find Tom’s, or Madland or anything. As panic welled up in her, she heard an engine somewhere behind her. Eve whirled, saw headlights coming at her, not from the road but right across the desert. Startled, she halted, staring as the lights came closer and closer. She couldn’t move.

  Suddenly a horn honked and the vehicle jerked to a halt, just a foot from her.

  “What the hell?” cried a man’s voice. She could hardly hear him because of the rain. Realizing it might be one of the ghost men, she turned and ran blindly into the storm.

  “Hey! Stop!”

  She ran faster, then her foot caught in a rabbit hole and she fell on her face in the mud. Crying, she struggled to rise, but suddenly hands lifted her up from behind.

  “
No!” She screamed the word, struggling and scratching at the hands, but they wouldn’t let go. “No! No!”

  “I’m not going to hurt you!” the stranger said in her ear.

  “No!” She kicked frantically.

  The man lowered her to her feet and turned her to face him. “What’s wrong, honey? What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

  As he knelt before her, she looked at him for the first time, calming as she took in the blue uniform under an open trench coat. “Are you a policeman?” she asked hopefully.

  The man hesitated, then took a soggy handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the mud from her face. “I’m a kind of policeman,” he told her.

  “Are you my daddy’s new cop?”

  “No, honey. Can you tell me your name?”

  “What’s yours?” she countered, on guard.

  “Colonel—that is, Officer Dole.”

  “I’m Eve Halloway and bad men took my mommy.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Ghost men, and they punched her. They hurt her.” The tears flowed down her cheeks. “They took her away.” Throwing her arms around Officer Dole’s neck, she let herself collapse against him. “Get my daddy! Please get my daddy!”

  The officer carried her to his green jeep and settled her in the passenger seat, buckled her in. “Who are the ghost men, Eve?”

  She hiccuped and tried to stop sobbing. “They had white sheets like ghosts.”

  “Apostles.”

  She nodded. “Except one was dressed like a soldier.”

  “Like me?” he asked, sounding surprised.

  “Huh-uh. Like GI Joe.”

  “I see. Your mama will be all right, don’t worry.” He turned the key and the engine roared to life, but the jeep wouldn’t go. He tried again, then turned off the ignition.

  “The wheels are stuck,” he told her as he climbed out and walked to the rear of the vehicle. “I’ve got a shovel back here. We’ll be on our way in a jiffy.”

  Hearing shoveling sounds over the rain, Eve let herself out of the jeep and came around to watch Officer Dole. All around, the desert was a gray, rainy blur, then she thought she saw something move. Squinting harder, she was sure there were several people coming toward her. “Officer Dole!” She tugged his pant leg and he looked at her, eyebrows raised.

  “The ghost men are coming.” She pointed.

  Pulling a gun like her father’s from a holster under his arm, he stared at the approaching figures. “Eve,” he said as he pulled a dark green blanket from the back of the jeep, “I want you to get on the floor of the backseat and wrap this around you, your head, too, then stay very still and quiet until I tell you it’s okay to come out. Do you understand?”

  Lower lip trembling, she nodded and let him lift her into the jeep. He began tucking the soggy blanket around her. “Be brave.”

  “Then we can get my daddy?”

  “Yes.” He pulled the blanket over her. “Don’t move.”

  Nothing happened for a moment, then she heard the horrible voice of the old man dressed like a soldier. “Got a problem?” Trembling, terrified, she listened.

  “Stuck in the mud,” Officer Dole replied gruffly.

  “What are you doing out here?” asked the bad old man.

  “Military business. I might ask the same of you.”

  “God’s business, sir. Have you been saved?”

  There was a long pause. “You people move along,” Dole ordered. “I’ve got work to do.”

  “He’s a sinner!” rasped a woman’s voice.

  “Do you repent your sins?” called another man.

  “Okay, folks.” That was Officer Dole. “I’m armed and prepared to shoot if you don’t move along. You’re interfering with government business.”

  “Stone him!” cried the old man. “Kill the sinner.”

  First something hit the side of the jeep, then a shot rang out, and another. A woman screamed. Something else clanged against the jeep, then a hailstorm of muted thumps, and she heard Officer Dole groan in pain. The bad people were all around, very near, and someone yelled, “Shoot him!”

  “No!” cried the old man. “Put him in his vehicle. We’ll free it, then clamp the accelerator down.” She heard a seat belt click. “It’ll look like he crashed.”

  Suddenly the jeep rocked as they threw Officer Dole into the driver’s seat in front of her. Eve held her breath as the seat jiggled against her. Please don’t let them find me! She repeated the prayer over and over, listening to Dole’s faint grunts and groans.

  “Okay, Campbell, you other men, push!” ordered the old man.

  The jeep rocked back and forth, and under the blanket, Eve clung tenaciously to the bar that ran beneath the rear seats. Suddenly the vehicle jolted forward and the rocking ceased.

  “This is for the Prophet!” the old man cackled, as she heard the engine roar to life. “Hand me that stone there. No, the big one.” Eve jumped as the rock was dropped into the jeep. Abruptly the engine roared loudly, like at the start of a race.

  “Is it in gear?” someone asked.

  “Yes,” spat the old man. “Get back. I’m releasing the parking brake . . . Now!”

  The vehicle lurched forward, engine thundering over the sounds of the storm. Eve held on as the jeep moved faster and faster, rocking and bumping across the desert floor. Suddenly one side jolted down lower than the other and then they were rolling over and over. The blanket flew free, but Eve hung on, hands clenched around the seat bar, legs drawn up, feet braced.

  It seemed to roll forever, then there was a sick crunching sound and the jeep abruptly came to a halt on its side, then rocked back onto its wheels. The engine died and Eve waited a long moment, listening to the hiss of steam and soft squeaks and groans.

  She let go of the bar and tried to open the low door, but it was stuck, so she scrambled over the side, sore and bruised but unhurt. Glancing around, she saw no sign of the bad men.

  “Officer Dole?” she asked, seeing the slumped figure in the front seat.

  He answered with a moan. Hesitantly she stepped to the driver’s door and tried to look at him, but his head was against the steering wheel. Bracing herself, she pushed his head and shoulders back against the seat. Blood seeped from his mouth and one ear, only to be washed away by the rain. His face was lumpy and scratched and there was a huge welt rising on his forehead where it had hit the steering wheel.

  “Officer Dole?”

  His eyes opened slowly, and he tried to reach a hand out to her, but it was all twisted and funny-looking, and with an agonized grunt, he let it flop into his lap. “Eve,” he rasped through cut, swollen lips. “You’re okay?”

  She nodded. “Can we go?”

  “Not me.” He paused, breathing heavily. Blood oozed from his nose. “You have to go, Eve. It’s not safe for you to stay.”

  “Alone?” she asked, lip trembling.

  “You’re a brave girl,” he managed. “You can do it. We’re close to the park. You can get help there. Okay?”

  She stared at him, at his broken body, cringing as she saw one leg was bent unnaturally forward at the knee. “Okay.”

  “Go slowly, try to keep near bushes and rocks where you can hide, and watch out for the Apostles. Hide if you see them. Do you understand?”

  Fear growing, she stared at him silently.

  His eyes blazed suddenly. “Eve, you have to do this to help your mother. She’s depending on you! You must be brave!” The last words trailed off and Dole’s eyes closed briefly.

  “Officer Dole?” she asked, touching his sleeve.

  The eyes fluttered open.

  “I don’t want to leave you.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Are you dying?”

  He looked at her a long time, even though his eyelids kept trying to close. “Not if I can help it,” he whispered at last.

  She nodded, and turned to go.

  “Eve?” he rasped.

  She turned back. “Yes?”

  “Tell your fa
ther—” He coughed, spraying blood-flecked foam. “Tell your father I’m not—I’m not the bad guy.”

  “Okay,” she said as his chin dropped onto his chest.

  She watched him a long moment, then began walking in the rain, unable to see more than ten feet in front of her, praying that she was going in the right direction.

  104

  Marie Lopez

  MARIE LOOSENED THE ROPE THAT TIED HER TO THE CHAIR AND sighed with relief. While she was working on the bindings, the Amazon Apostle had come in twice, and both times Marie had passed inspection. Now, finally, she was free.

  For at least an hour, she’d been hearing the echo of voices in the church. A man—it didn’t sound like Sinclair—spoke in muted but thunderous tones, and sometimes there was singing. Marie hoped the service or whatever it was continued long enough for her to escape this place.

  Just as she started to rise, she heard a key in the lock. The woman was back and there was no time to do anything but put her hands and feet together and slump over in the chair. She hoped the woman wouldn’t notice the ropes she’d kicked behind the chair.

  “Okay, bitch, I know you’re awake.” The woman’s harsh voice drowned out the sermonizing, and Marie kept her head down as the woman crossed the room.

  “Wake up, whore!” The woman grabbed Marie by the hair and yanked her head back. “Wake up!”

  Enraged, Marie managed to keep her eyes closed, her face expressionless. Suddenly the woman slapped her across the cheek, and that was it.

  Marie exploded out of the chair. The startled Apostle let go of her hair, and before she could fight, Marie was on her, bowling her over, fighting like a cat fending off a bulldog.

  The woman was built like a small tank, all steroidal muscle and sinew. Marie scratched and bit, her entire body in constant motion so that the square-jawed Amazon couldn’t get a good hold on her. She pulled her arm back, made a fist, and brought it down, smashing the Amazon’s nose.

  The woman howled as Marie leaped away and sprinted to the door. As she yanked it open, the woman was already rising, blood streaming down her face.