by James Kiehle
Bolt could easily follow the footprints in the still damp mud and saw that three people had retraced their own steps but while the tracks leading to the west were close together, meaning they were ambling, those headed east were far apart, which signified they were running. To Bolt, this meant they were afraid of him and his men.
He saw Calderon and Paden struggling to row fast enough to keep up with him, fighting the current and lagging behind.
“Come on, you pansies,” Bolt called. “I don’t want to lose you two yet.”
Bolt knew both men were idiots and without him around, the whole group would starve. He traced the footprints for almost an hour until he came to a road littered with destroyed cars and trucks.
Behind him, Bolt could hear his men again calling to him and he whirled around. Calderon and Paden were pointing to a sign. Bolt looked but could only see the back side.
“What’s it say?” he called to them.
Bolt didn’t catch their words at first, as both men spoke at the same instant, but Paden said that it was a sign for the Temple Lodge.
Bolt grinned, “My home away from home,” then waved them ashore. The men had trouble getting the boat onto the beach until Bolt grabbed the towline and pulled them in as easily as if the boat was empty.
“Up this road,” Bolt told them. “Fan out behind me. You take that side, Paden. Calderon, over there.”
They walked carefully up the road, looking into the cars for usable items but saw nothing worthwhile.
“Where are all the bodies?” Calderon asked. “I kinda thought there’d be some dead guys around.”
“Probably washed away,” Bolt said, shrugging.
“Maybe they were buried,” Paden added.
“Fat chance,” Bolt replied, always getting the last word. “Do you think anyone’s gonna spend time putting strangers in the ground? My guess is scavengers took them. Coyotes or wolves or something.”
Looking to his right, though, Paden saw a high pile of charred bones.
“I don’t think so. I think they burned all the bodies.”
Bolt stared at the pyre and smiled meanly. “Maybe they aren’t the wimps I thought they were. I wish I’d seen that. My kind of show.”
Marching forward up the hill, Paden felt defenseless. Bolt and Calderon had rifles but Paden had nothing. Another weapon was back at the camp in the hands of men Bolton actually almost trusted.
“What about me?” Glen asked. “If there’s shooting, I won’t have nothin’ to shoot with.”
“Shit, Paden, you couldn’t hit the ocean with a hand grenade,” Bolt told him. “You just stay back and let the men handle the rough stuff.”
Paden bit his tongue. Only the threat of starvation kept him quiet and in Bolt’s camp.
Maybe he could get away now… Run into the woods.
Probably not.
They reached the main gate; locked from the other side. A long, high fence ringed with barbed wire surrounded the perimeter, but Bolt wandered along its edge until he discovered that the fence simply ended a few hundred feet up. They walked beside it and into the woods until the fence stopped, then followed back the other way until back at the gate again and walked up the curving road.
Then they saw the lodge.
“Well, I’ll be fucked by rabid dogs,” Bolt laughed. “You see this fuckin’ crib? We’ve been sleeping on hard ground while these assholes have the run of this place? I should kill them just for sleeping well.”
“I’m hoping for Posturepedic beds,” Calderon nodded. He was thinking about a warm bed and some liquor when he saw a tall man step onto the porch with his arms folded, a pistol in his hand.
“Gentlemen,” the man called out. “What brings you to our neck of the woods?”
Bolt turned to Paden. “That’s Perry, right?”
“Yeah, that’s him.”
“He doesn’t look very tough,” Calderon said. “I could kick his ass blindfolded.”
“Won’t be necessary,” Bolt told him. He lifted his rifle and took aim.
Paden was astonished. “I thought you were going to save him? Why kill him?”
Bolt made a noise that sounded mocking.
“He ain’t as pretty up close,” he said. “Besides, I can always—” but Bolt’s words ended when a shot rang out from within the lodge. Paden saw a flash and a puff of smoke come from an upstairs window as a bullet slammed into the ground near Bolt’s feet and kicked up dust. Paden and Calderon jumped back, but Bolt acted like nothing had happened. He didn’t even twitch.
From the porch, Perry said, “Let’s not be making hostile moves, friends. Just lower the rifle and we can talk like grown men.”
The cold anger on Bolt’s face frightened Glen. Even a bullet landing two feet from him was less scary.
“I don’t talk, Perry. I do things,” Bolt answered, his voice even and forceful. “I want that place. I’m your new landlord.”
Perry didn’t say anything for a long moment. In fact, Paden could see Russ hadn’t moved an inch either, even when the rifle was aimed at him.
“You put down your guns and send Paden up to see me. Unarmed, hands above his head,” Russell said.
Bolt looked surprised. “What do you want with this piss-ant? I’m the man you want to talk to.”
Perry seemed to converse with someone behind him, then he turned back and told the convicts. “Fine, same deal,” Russ said. “Put the rifle down, walk up here with your hands over your head.”
Bolt took his time considering it. Finally, he handed his rifle to Paden and turned to Calderon.
“Stick the twenty-two in my back waistband,” he said and the Mexican turned his back so Perry wouldn’t see, then slipped his pistol in Bolt’s back waistband. Paden doubted Perry could have seen the action.
“When I start shooting, you get the guy upstairs with my rifle,” Bolt said in a low voice. “Anything goes wrong, you go get the boys and come back. Got it?”
“Yeah,” Calderon said.
“Don’t shoot your nuts off,” Bolt said, then started up the road, hands above his head, a strange and malevolent look in his eyes.
On the porch, over his shoulder, Perry whispered to Daria.
“Tell Leo to change positions. If anything goes down, tell him to shoot at the guy coming up the road. You fire at the others. They’re in range for your pistol, I think.”
“Okay,” she said. “Your gun isn’t loaded is it?”
“No, it’s not,” he replied. “The shells are the wrong caliber. Get upstairs. Take my room. It’s got a good angle and some protection.”
“I’m on it,” she said, heading out. “Be careful.”
“Good idea.”
He turned back to the man walking up the road in the bright orange uniform of a ward of the state, a man no bigger than a tractor.
When he was fifteen yards away, Russ told him to stop.
“What’s your name?” Perry asked.
“Bolton,” the man replied. “Everyone calls me Bolt.”
Russ nodded. He’d read about him.
“Edgar Bolton, right?” Perry said. “I’ve heard of you. You’re supposed to be a dangerous hombre.”
Bolt smiled unpleasantly. “I am.”
“So what do you want, Bolton? We’ve got some meat we can give you,” Russ offered.
“Not meat,” Bolt said, “Everything.” He started to lower his hands.
“Keep your hands high,” Russ said and waved his unloaded pistol in a casual way at Bolton’s chest.
Bolt’s eyes narrowed. Ordering him around was about the worst thing a man could do. Bolt kept a mental list of all those who had tried, but most were x-ed off as he paid them back. Perry was now on his “A” list.
“You cocksucker,” Bolt said.
“Look, Bolton, we can stand here and talk tough all day,” Russ said. “Here’s the deal. We can give you some food and a few sleeping bags, but you aren’t staying here and you’re not taking the lodge over.”
&n
bsp; “You haven’t got the guns to stop me,” Bolt laughed. “I’ve got others back at camp if I need them. You’ve just got three. I saw you on the beach. One of you is a girl. In my mind, you’ve got nothing.”
“You only saw three, it’s true,” Perry told him. “But do you really think we’d leave this place unguarded? Would you?”
Russ could see almost Bolt’s brain churning, probably recognizing that Bolt himself would never leave his own camp unguarded, especially not a prize like the lodge.
“So how many you got?” Bolt asked.
Russ shrugged. “Do you want the meat or not?”
Bolt shook his head slowly. “Don’t need meat.”
“What about the sleeping bags?” Perry went on.
“Nope.”
Again, Bolton started to lower his arms.
“Turn around,” Perry told him.
“What?”
“Turn around or I’ll kill you.” Perry managed to make his voice sound ice cold but inside he was a nervous wreck.
“Better shoot me then.” Bolt’s eyes challenged.
Not knowing what else to do, Russell lifted his gun and pointed it at Bolt’s head, clicking the safety to make noise.
Surprised, Bolt turned and Perry could see the gun tucked inside his pants.
“Hands inside the front of your pants,” Russ told him. “Way deep. To your knees.”
Bolt reluctantly stuffed his hands as told but shook his head slowly while he did. Bolton hated being trumped. He knew he’d have to bide his time, come back another day, but that wouldn’t save Perry in the future.
Standing in back of him, Russ felt the man’s girth could cause a statewide blackout. He took possession of Bolton’s gun and slipped his own back in his pants.
“That ends our little powwow,” Russ said. “Feel free to never come here again. Next time, we’ll shoot on sight.”
“So will I,” Bolton said, removing his hands from his pants, facing Perry. Then after a menacing glare, he turned and walked sullenly down the road, but knowing he’d be back.
Soon.
•
Lightning struck near the Oahu Queen. The wind howled. Water splashed over the decks outside and drenched the porthole.
“Mother Nature is really pissed,” Iris said. “Red sky at night? Try basic black.”
Judy got under the covers. “Try to get some sleep, honey. Tomorrow we might reach San Francisco.”
“What? That is so cool,” Iris almost bounced. “Big, fat, huge, enormous, giant coolness.” Happy again, Iris jumped for the other tiny bed, perfect for her; her dad, though, would probably hang over the edge of the mattress. Russ was tall.
“I miss my daddy,” Iris said after a while, listening to the ocean and wind and rain; feeling a less than gentle rocking of the ship.
“I miss him, too,” Judy whispered. “So much.”
“Yeah.”
A long silence.
“Thanks for being so brave, honey,” Judy said quietly.
Iris turned over to see her mother’s face lit by pale moonlight spilling through the window.
“Thanks for being my mom,” Iris said. “Where do you think I learned to be brave?”
The next morning, Iris stood as close to the bow as the ship would let her get. She was hardly alone. Word had spread that land had been spotted and so many came forward that Iris wondered if the ship might just flip over.
Along the starboard side, through a thick mist that covered the shore, a high shadow appeared, like the long ridge of a mountain range. The fog momentarily cleared, and then she saw it.
“Over there. Over there,” Iris shouted. “It’s the Golden Gate Bridge.” A press of people inched forward, momentarily squishing her.
“The Golden Gate Bridge!”
Judy was further back, had been trying to find Iris for ten minutes, but her voice alerted her to her daughter’s whereabouts and she smiled in relief. Iris tried to make it back through the crush of people once she spotted her mother.
“I saw it first,” she beamed.
“Big, giant coolness, Iris,” Judy called back.
“Yeah,” Iris agreed. “Big, giant.”
They were finally set ashore at Pier 33 after waiting hours for a berth. There were scores of other ships in the bay and the docks were jammed with people. As they disembarked, Judy appropriated as many boxes of matches as she could, along with bottles of water and packets of crackers. There wasn’t much else to take.
She made no effort to say goodbye to Roger Lind.
“Come on, honey,” she said to Iris as they reached the top of the gangway. “Let’s go home.”