by Alex Gunwick
Click-clack.
“You’re crazy,” Kent snapped.
“I’ll come see you in the morning,” she said.
As he left, he tromped through her rose bushes.
“Asshole,” she muttered.
“Is he gone?” Kyle asked.
“For now.”
“Is he going to come back?”
“I don’t know.”
She chewed on the edge of her lip. Curiosity warred with self-preservation. She wanted to know why Kent had insisted on talking to her, but at the same time, he could have told her through the door. He didn’t need to come inside. And hadn’t he already warned her not to trust anyone, including him?
Ratatatat…. Ratatatat…
“What was that?” Kyle asked, eyes wide.
“Sounded like a full-auto.”
“It was close.”
“Next block over.”
“We should leave. It’s not safe here anymore,” Kyle said.
“We’ll leave at first light,” she said.
“Why not now?”
“Curfew. We might get arrested.”
“Who cares? We’re going to get killed if we stay here. Either Kent’s going to come back or whoever is shooting out there will come for us.”
The edge of hysteria in his voice forced her own fear down. She needed to stay calm so he wouldn’t panic.
“We’ll leave in the morning. I’ll stay up and guard the house tonight while you sleep,” she said.
“Sleep? Are you crazy?”
“We don’t have a choice right now. Go upstairs and try to get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to leave.”
“No way. I’m staying down here with you. And I want my rifle. I’m getting it.”
He stomped off toward the garage.
“Get back here.”
She didn’t move away from the door. When Kyle returned with the rifle, she pressed her lips together. Screaming at him wouldn’t do any good at this point.
“I won’t shoot myself by accident,” he said.
“Don’t shoot me either.”
“Why…wow, you think I’m a dumb kid. I get it. If Dad were here, he would have handed me the rifle. You’re treating me like I’m still ten.”
“You’re only thirteen.”
“Yeah, and I’m in high school.”
“A freshman.”
“Whatever,” he waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll sleep on the couch. We can take turns guarding the door. You should probably set the alarm too. Not that the cops will come. But at least it’s loud enough to scare someone away.”
She punched their security code into the alarm box on the wall by the front door.
“It’s armed. But let’s be perfectly clear about something. You are the child, I’m the adult. You will listen to me and follow my instructions. Are we clear?”
“Sure,” he said in a surly, noncommittal tone.
She didn’t know what else to do.
After standing by the door for over an hour, she pulled a chair from the kitchen into the foyer. She sat down with the shotgun in her lap and faced the door. Kent probably wouldn’t be coming back, but she couldn’t assume anything. The world was falling apart. As far as she was concerned, everyone was a potential threat unless proven otherwise.
11
Sierra road her bike past University High School and onto the Turtle Rock trail. When she reached University trail, she turned onto the dirt path. Light from a full moon cast sinister shadows across the trail. Thick scrub brush and trees lined the Sand Canyon Wash, cutting off visibility from cars passing by on University Drive. The sound of whizzing cars and the occasional blare of a passing radio helped keep her fear at bay.
She hated the dark. Always had. But never more so than when she’d been trapped in the room with the drunk guys. If Nina hadn’t been there to rescue her…She shuddered. She had no intention of ever getting drunk again. One close call was enough.
As she turned a corner in the path, laughter carried from somewhere in the distance. She slowed as several figures came into view. Three men, probably in their early twenties, stood around a small fire. As she drifted closer, flames from the fire lit their demonic faces. They leered at her.
“Hey, baby. You’re not gonna be able to outrun the Russians on that thing. Where you headed?”
She hit the brake and put her foot out to balance.
“Just passing through.” She tried to keep her voice steady. Showing fear was out of the question.
“Why don’t you come party with us a while?” Second Guy snickered. “We’ve got beer.”
“I don’t drink.”
“You don’t have to drink,” Third Guy said.
“I’m just driving through,” she said with less confidence. Maybe she should turn around and backtrack a bit. But she didn’t want to waste time.
“She’s got a nice rack,” First Guy said.
“Nice ass too.”
Decision made, she spun in a half circle and pedaled away from the group. Footsteps pounded in the dirt behind her.
“Get that bitch,” Second Guy yelled.
Panic gripped her chest. She could hardly catch her breath as she frantically pumped her legs. There had been a trail back to the main road up ahead. If she could reach it in time, she could flag down a passing motorist.
The pack chased her, never more than a few yards behind. They were in better shape than she’d anticipated. She pedaled faster and harder until she spotted the side path back to the road. As she skidded around the corner, she hit a patch of loose gravel. The bike spun out from under her and crashed into the bushes. Branches clawed at her face and arms, tearing her skin. Her hip slammed against a jagged rock. Her head smacked the base of a tree trunk.
In a daze, she willed herself to get up and move, but her brain and body seemed disconnected, as if the message wasn’t moving from one part to the next. Three dark shadows blocked the light from passing cars. She wasn’t more than ten feet from the edge of the road, but she may as well have been a hundred miles away.
The men moved toward her. One grabbed her legs while the other two hauled her out by her arms. She twisted and writhed and struggled against their powerful grips. She screamed and kicked, fighting like hell to get away. She caught the one holding her legs in the jaw. He dropped her and howled. The other two pulled her to her feet.
“You’re gonna pay for that,” Second Guy said.
The guy holding her legs glared at her with black eyes. Even in the darkness, she sensed evil bubbling up inside the man. A wave of pure terror shot through her muscles. She jerked and pulled away from the other two. Sprinting up the small slope, she reached the road. The men caught up with her. One grabbed her hair and yanked her back. She lost her balance and tumbled back down the path. He crawled across her, pinning her to the ground.
She sobbed. Pure terror froze her in place.
This was it; she wasn’t going to survive.
A gunshot cracked. One of the men screamed and stumbled into the underbrush.
A second shot sliced through the darkness. Two sets of footsteps pounded in the dirt. One running away from her, one running toward her.
“Get off her,” a man yelled.
“This bitch is mine,” her assailant snarled.
Bang! Bang!
Her ears buzzed. She couldn’t hear anything, but the man on her back fell to the side. Someone lifted her to her feet. A man, probably in his thirties, peered into her face.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She could hardly make out the words and simply nodded.
“They’re gone. You’re safe.”
She stood on shaky legs. When she spotted the dead man on the ground, she screamed. Blood and brains blanketed the earth beside him. Half of his head was missing. Gone. Blown away. She kept screaming until her savior clamped his hand over her mouth.
“Shh! One of them got away. Be quiet so I can hear.”
Her eyes widened and
she nodded vigorously. The man released her. He held a black pistol in his hand, pointed at the ground.
“Where are you headed?” he whispered.
“I’m. Trying. To… Get home,” she choked.
“Where’s home?”
“I can’t tell you.”
He turned his attention back to her. He hoisted her backpack off the ground and handed it to her.
“Is this your Bug Out Bag?” he asked.
“Yeah. My dad gave it to me.”
“Smart man.”
“How many miles do you have to go?” the man asked.
“Only maybe…. Twenty? I’m not sure.”
“Do you have a map?”
“Yeah, but I don’t need it,” she said. “My dad and I rode the path multiple times. He insisted we practice so I wouldn’t need the map.”
“You might need it. Depends on your route. It’s not safe to be on the road right now. Shit’s getting bad out there,” he said.
“But I have to keep going. I don’t have anywhere I can stay until I get to—” She stopped abruptly. Even though he’d saved her life, she couldn’t tell him the plan.
“You don’t have to tell me the location,” he said. “Which direction are you headed?”
“Saddleback Mountain.”
“You and probably half the county,” he said. “But I’m guessing your dad has a plan for when shit hits the fan?”
“Yeah.” She eyed him warily. Just because he’d saved her from those other men didn’t mean he was safe.
“Well, good luck,” he said.
As he turned to leave, his backpack came into view.
“Wait!”
“What?”
“Thank you,” she said. “If you hadn’t been here…”
The man sighed and ran a hand across his buzz-cut hair. He mumbled something under his breath that she didn’t catch. He looked her up and down, not in a predatory way, but as if he were assessing her.
“How old are you?” he asked.
“Eighteen. Why?”
“Do you know how to shoot a gun?”
“Yes.”
“Build a fire?”
“Yes.”
“Your dad take you camping a lot?” he asked.
“All the time when I was a kid.”
He laughed.
“What?”
“You’re still a kid,” he said.
“I am not. I’m in college. I have a driver’s license.”
“Where’s your car?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t want to ask my parents. And I didn’t need one. Why are you asking me all of this stuff?” she demanded.
He glanced at the sky. Moonlight caught the edge of his strong jawline. A wash of stubble cast shadows across his chin. Lean, powerful muscles bulged against his black T-shirt. The edge of a tattoo peeked out from underneath one sleeve.
“Military?” she asked.
“What?” His gaze snapped back to her.
“Your tattoo.”
“Marines. I’m Derek.” He held out his hand. She shook it.
“Sierra. My dad was a Navy SEAL.”
“No shit?”
“No shit,” she said.
“Well, that helped me make my decision.”
“What decision?”
“I’m going to Saddleback too. My parents live in Modjeska Canyon. I need to check on them.”
“Where’s your car?” she asked.
“Stolen.”
“Seriously?”
“Right after a nuke hit LA. My car alarm went off, but by the time I got my gun and got downstairs, it was gone.”
“LA? How did you get down here so fast?”
“No, I was at home in Newport Beach when the nuke hit LA. I’ve been walking ever since.”
“Do you think they’re going to drop more bombs?” she asked.
“They?”
“I don’t know. The Russians. The Chinese. North Korea. Who knows. There enough nuclear weapons out there to blow up the whole planet. Maybe the terrorists got a hold of them.”
“No,” he said. “My guess is the Chinese. But you’re right, we don’t know.”
“I wasn’t able to get any news. A shelter in place message was on TV when I got home.”
“The last I heard, New York, LA, San Francisco—”
“San Francisco?” Her heart stalled.
“Yeah.”
“My dad’s in San Jose on business.”
“I hope he had a plan to get out of there.”
“I’m sure he did,” she said softly. “How far can a nuclear explosion reach?”
“Depends on the bomb size. But if he was in San Jose, he probably escaped most of it.”
“Most?”
“It’s hard to know. I haven’t had time to listen to my radio,” he said. “I’ve got to get to my parents before everyone starts to realize how bad things are going to get.”
“I hope you get there safely,” she said as she righted her bicycle.
“You still plan on biking out of here?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.
“I’ll take my chances on the main road from here on out. The bike trail isn’t safe.”
“You’re not going anywhere on that thing,” he said.
She pulled the bike into the light. The crossbar was bent. The chain had snapped. Spokes stuck out in all directions. Her bike was wrecked.
“Shit!”
“Yep.”
“This isn’t funny. I can’t walk twenty miles.”
“Anyone can walk twenty miles. It might take some time, but you’ll get there,” he said.
“It will take me two days,” she said. “I almost didn’t make it two hours.”
“It’s about ten miles to the foothills. If we start walking now, we’ll make it well before sunrise.”
“We?”
“Yeah, we. Unless you’d rather take your chances alone.”
At sunrise on the second day after the bombing, Luke joined Bob in the large red barn. Newer beams supported the front section of the barn, while plywood boards covered older parts. According to Bob, it had been built in 1908, but he’d added onto it after his father had passed away.
“I want to give you a couple of things for your trip,” Bob said.
“You don’t need to give me anything,” Luke said.
“You’re right about that, but I want to. I can’t thank you enough for saving me and Mary. We loaded up the back of the truck this morning with some canned food, but I’ve got beef jerky stored up. I’d been planning on selling it at the farmer’s market, but I doubt I’ll be doing that anytime soon.”
Bob approached a large white deep freezer with a flip-top lid. He opened it and started piling meat into an old grain sack.
“It won’t last too long once it defrosts,” Bob said. “Maybe a couple of days. We vacuum sealed it which should buy you time. I also found a small ice chest you can have. Nothing fancy, one of those Styrofoam deals, but it will help keep things cold for a few more days.”
“I hope it doesn’t take a few days to get home,” Luke said. “With the truck, I should be able to get to LA in five or so hours.”
“How are you planning on getting through it? The whole city’s covered in radioactive fallout by now. It won’t be safe to pass through for another two weeks. Even then, I’d try to find a way around it.”
Luke hadn’t even considered the fallout problem. He’d been so focused on getting home, he’d forgotten that LA sat in a basin with the San Gabriel Mountains on one side and the Pacific Ocean on the other. Even if he tried to follow the 210 freeway through the San Fernando Valley, he’d be downwind from the city center. Pasadena would be directly in the path based on the standard wind patterns. Even if the Santa Ana winds were blowing the radioactive material in the opposite direction out to the ocean, was it worth taking the risk?
“I haven’t thought about how to get through it,”
Luke admitted. “I’m trying to take one day at a time.”
“That strategy works until you find yourself at a dead end road,” Bob said. “I hope you don’t end up in a bad situation for lack of planning.”
“I’ll figure something out before I get to LA.”
“We’ll be praying for you. I don’t know if we’ll ever meet up again, but if you ever end up in our area again, you’re welcome to stop by. Just watch out for the tripwire.”
“Thank you.”
Luke reached to shake the man’s hand, but Bob pulled him into a man hug and slapped him on the back.
“You’re a good man. Take care of yourself. I hope you get home to your family before the day’s out.” Bob released him and headed back toward the house. “Mary’s been baking up a storm since four a.m. I think she’s got something for you too.”
As they approached the house, the scent of fresh-baked biscuits wafted out. They’d already stuffed him with a classic country-style breakfast of hash browns, eggs, bacon, and biscuits and gravy. But he sure as heck wasn’t going to turn down any food they wanted to give him. Given the events of the last forty-eight hours, he couldn’t count on having a smooth ride home. And Bob had made a good point about fallout. How was he going to get around it? He’d have to figure it out later.
“I baked two dozen biscuits,” Mary said as she filled several Ziploc bags. “I would have packed gravy too, but there’s no way to heat it up.”
“I appreciate what you’re doing for me,” Luke said. “I hope you guys stay safe.”
“I’ve got a stockpile of ammo in the basement,” Bob said. “I’ve hid extra shells all over the house and we’ve loaded all the guns. Anyone trying to rob us will be in for a rude awakening.”
“Even so, keep an eye out for trouble,” Luke said.
“We will.” Mary handed him steam-shrouded bags full of biscuits. “Let’s get you on the road before it gets too late.”
“Sounds good.”
Luke went outside to the pickup truck. It was an ’89 Dodge Ram 150. Underneath a film of dirt, the formerly white, rusted-up cab body wasn’t much to look at, perfect for blending in. No one would take a second glance at the pile of crap. Hopefully it would run well enough to get him all the way home.
“I checked your fuel. It’s at about half a tank. I wish I could spare some, but gas may become too hard a commodity to come by.” Bob rubbed the back of his neck. “She’ll probably get about fifteen miles per gallon on the highway, maybe ten or eleven on the streets. I’m guessing she’s got about fifteen gallons in a thirty-gallon tank. So you’re looking at maybe two hundred miles or so before you need to fill up.”