ALL IS SILENCE

by Robert L. Slater

  “No.” Bill’s voice was icy calm. “There has been enough death today. Enough lights have gone out.”

  Zach released the breath he had been holding and climbed into the cab. He eased the Tank onto the shoulder. When he was turned around he gunned it, tossing gravel back the way he’d come. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”

  Tears streamed down his face. He wiped them away and tried to see the road ahead.

  Untitled copy

  The Promised Land

  27

  THE SOUND OF THE HEATER kicking into high gear woke Mannie. Both his companions still slept. He pulled the Ranger uniform on. It smelled funky; he’d better get it washed soon. He snuck out and found a house attached to the back of the motel. In the kitchen there were some eggs in the fridge. He tossed together a quick scramble, grabbed some plates and salsa and then returned to the room. Jess brushed her hair and BeeGee sat playing with her cell phone.

  “Here’s some grub.” Mannie offered the skillet around. “If anybody wants it.”

  The smell pulled them all to the table. They ate heartily. Mannie pushed back his chair. “Like to get an early start,” he said, uncertain that they were free of pursuit.

  They continued up the Devil’s Highway into Utah. The mountains in the distance showed a distinct snow-line. So they would hit snow. Good thing they’d gotten chains. Mannie had always found it funny that most cars in the ditch when it snowed were 4X4s with overconfident drivers. For now the road continued straight, dry and long, with only a sign marking the crossover into Utah.

  Monticello, with its pole buildings, Quonset huts and mini-storage, ended their trek on the Devil’s Highway. They headed north on US 195 toward the Great Salt Lake.

  Red rock formations swept higher, big and majestic into the stark winter sky. Snow covered most of the ground. Here and there scrub brush rose out of the skiff of snow. The red rocks formed impressive arches. They got out for a stretch at one—vivid like a giant had drilled a hole out of the ridges of the plateau. Beyond the red rocks, white-capped mountains peeked through.

  Mannie’s optical beauty circuits had shut down somewhere back near Green River. The country was stunning, but he wanted the drive to be done. The beauty that pulled him onward as fast as he could go was his daughter. Thoughts of potential redemption tangled with the possibility of rejection. Lizzie had every reason to hate him, but maybe in this fucked up universe, getting to know her was the silver lining.

  They stopped as little as possible: Moab for gas, Wellington for lunch. Mannie felt worn out, but he wanted to get close to Salt Lake City by nightfall.

  As dusk fell they pulled onto the Veteran’s Highway I-15 near Provo. As they passed under the University exit to State 189, detour signs appeared on I-15. He ignored them and kept going until large orange pylons forced them off the road and toward downtown Provo. It reminded him of strategically placed damaged tanks that had forced a convoy of the road in Afghanistan.

  “Maybe there’s a bridge out?” Jess suggested.

  “Maybe.” He drove slow toward Provo, against the warnings in his gut. The memories of the concussions of explosives and the screams of friends dying were compelling. He wanted to forget that there was a big plastic bottle of vodka in the back. Let go the ghosts. Almost immediately they saw people, witless eyes stared at them. Dog-people. They scattered into the shadows as Rubi drove by.

  Past the turnpike exit Mannie saw a portable building, like a guard house to a military base, complete with two men holding M-16 light machine guns. The older one, gray-hair, crew-cut and peaked cap neatly atop his head, looked like he’d been doing it his whole life. He stood with the practiced ease and erectness of a life-long military man.

  Mannie slid Rubi to a stop next to him, noting the insignia and the name on his blue uniform. “Evening. Captain Foote?”

  “Evening.” He got Mannie’s implied question. “Yes. I really am Captain Foote.” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Where’d you get the Jeep, son?”

  Mannie hated being called son. Something about the soft southern assumption of superiority. “Government issue, Sir. I’m a Ranger at Amistad Reservoir.

  “You’re a long way from home.” The Captain leaned in and looked over Jess and BeeGee.

  “Yes, sir.” Mannie tried to give him a pleasant smile. Just answer his questions.

  “You on official business?”

  Mannie hesitated “No, sir.” The truth would serve.

  “Are you ladies accompanying this man voluntarily?” The captain’s rifle was where they could see it.

  Jess gulped. “Yes, sir. He’s my best friend’s dad.” She jerked her head at BeeGee. “We saved her from her drunken husband.”

  “Hold it.” BeeGee glared at Jess. “I didn’t need saving.”

  Mannie turned to look at her pleading with his eyes.

  “But they didn’t kidnap me neither,” BeeGee continued with a wry chuckle. “I’m here of my own free will.”

  The Captain stepped back and the barrel of his rifle pointed down. “All right.” His frown softened. “Where are you headed?”

  “Salt Lake City, Captain.” Mannie kept his voice respectful. “Is there a bridge out north?”

  “A bridge?” The Captain looked for a moment like he wasn’t going to answer, but he did. “No. We’re bringing people into the city. We got a man with a plan. There’s food and shelter and medicine. What’s in Salt Lake City you’re interested in?”

  “My teenage daughter, sir.” He ought to understand that. Give him a little more. “She’s traveling from the Seattle area.”

  “That’s a long trip.” The Captain’s frown returned.

  “Yes, it is,” Mannie agreed. “How can I get back to the highway?”

  “I’m afraid you can’t. You need to continue on this way.” He pointed toward the city. “There’ll be an escort in a minute. Once you get logged in, you can put in a travel request.”

  “Captain, with all due respect. I’ve done my service. I was in the first Gulf War and then Afghanistan. I am retired.” Mannie set his jaw. “I have a seventeen-year-old daughter who is counting on me to meet her in Salt Lake.” He slid Rubi into reverse. “I’m heading north.”

  “Not right now you aren’t.” The Captain placed his hands on the door as if he could stop Mannie with his strength. “We can’t have people running loose, possibly spreading disease.”

  “I came through San Antonio,” Mannie said in soft, measured tones. “They’ve declared martial law.” His hand slipped toward the Sig pistol. “Captain, I am going north. You don’t want me going through your city, then I’ll head back the way I came and avoid your roads. My daughter is 17 and I haven’t seen her in 14 years. I thought she was dead. She thought I was dead. Are you going to shoot me?”

  The older soldier eyed Mannie coldly, but the younger soldier behind him didn’t seem nearly as cool. His hands were shaking. Mannie didn’t think it was because of the winter weather. He had his gun pointed at Mannie, but the Captain was standing in the way.

  “Don’t play it this way, son.”

  “I’m not your son, sir. And despite your request, I am going to leave.” Mannie pulled the 9mm Sig out to where the Captain could see it. “How do you want to play it?” Mannie stared him in the eyes. “Sir?”

  They were at an impasse. The Captain seemed like the kind of man who couldn’t stand to be weak. Mannie hoped he was not the kind to follow orders blindly or kill in cold blood.

  The man’s eyes narrowed, but he eased backward a bit. “You head back to the highway. Let the people know. If they’re headed this way they’re gonna get fed and taken care of but they have to give up some freedoms. Got it?” He barked like he was giving Mannie a set of orders that he expected to be followed.

  Mannie nodded. Let him save face.

  The young soldier hustled toward the older man. “But, Captain-”

  “Yes, sir.” Mannie switched hands with the pistol and backed away and drove sedately south, half expecting t
o hear shots ring out.

  Jess let out her breath in a long sigh. “Jesus, almost pissed my pants.”

  He smiled at her. She had stayed calm and cool through the whole encounter. She handled her nerves better than with the fire. “You did just fine.” He looked in the mirror. BeeGee was ghost-pale and sweating.

  They drove the wrong way on the ramp, back to the highway. Then 4-wheeled it on the rugged shoulder around the orange pylons.

  BeeGee broke her silence. “Randy was in the Army. He was a ranger. But not the Lone Ranger.” She gave a throaty laugh.

  Mannie chuckled at BeeGee’s laugh. “I wasn’t a Ranger in the Army, but I ended up serving near the Rangers in the first Gulf War and Afghanistan.”

  “Randy was in both of those. Plus two tours of Iraq.” BeeGee’s voice got quiet. “That’s when his drinking got bad.”

  “Yeah.” Mannie knew that story too well.

  BeeGee blurted, “He’s headed north, following us. Randy is. He texted to say he’s sorry. He can’t live without me.” BeeGee continued softly. “He says he’s dry. I should text him to avoid Provo.”

  Mannie shook his head and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. Damn. One more thing to worry about. He had Rubi back up to speed. The adrenaline from the encounter in Provo gave him the high he needed to push on.

  His phone rang as they passed through American Fork. Jess and BeeGee were sleeping. He pulled it to his ear and hit the answer button. “Lizzie?

  “Mr. Guerrero? This is Zach. If you’re driving, you better pull over.”

  Mannie slammed on the brakes, waking both his passengers. “I’m stopped.”

  “Sir.” The voice on the other end cracked. “Lizzie’s dead. We ran into some trouble.

  Mannie sat still. Zach was still talking, but Mannie didn’t respond or really hear anything else he had to say. Eventually Zach stopped talking.

  Jess reached a hand out to him. “Mannie?”

  He turned to her and saw by the tears in her eyes she had heard everything. Mannie reached back and grabbed the plastic bottle BeeGee had stowed. He upended it down his throat. It burned like hell and then he went numb.

  Lizzie stared as Duke strode toward her, his rifle pointed down. She picked up the shotgun and rolled the window down. She cocked it where Duke could see it and pointed it in his direction.

  She heard the motorcycle behind her. Then it came into her rear view and skidded to a stop. The rider aimed a rifle, and the back window of Lizzie’s ‘loaner’ car disappeared in a splash of glass. “Fuck! Get down, Rachael.” Lizzie slunk down in the seat.

  Saj cried; Rachael screamed, covering him with her body.

  Duke raised his rifle; he pointed it at their car.

  “We are so fucked.” Lizzie saw the kickback as he fired, but nothing hit the car. In the rear view mirror she saw the man on the bike drop.

  Duke ran toward them.

  She sat up and gunned the car straight at him. Who knew how long before the motorcycle guy’s friends arrived.

  Duke’s eyes got big. He tossed his gun down and raised his hands as he stepped out of her path. “Lizzie, I am not your enemy!”

  “Damn it!” Lizzie slammed on the brakes. Don’t trust him. She opened the door. She leveled the shotgun at him. “What the hell do you want, Duke?”

  His eyes widened when she said his name. “Look, I know what a shit my brother was.” He looked down. “I had to live with him. Whatever he did—I should have… I promised my father… We should have—.”

  “Shut the Hell up.” Lizzie wanted to hate him, but she had no time. “There’re more people like that guy behind us; they’re going to kill us. Move your fucking truck.”

  “Wait. I have an idea.”

  Lizzie saw the wheels turning in his head. But he had tried to kill her. “I’m supposed to trust you?” Her habit of reacting against paranoia made her too trusting. Wasn’t that what got her in trouble with C.J.? But I don’t want to live in fear. “What’s your idea?”

  “Get in my truck and drive.” Duke’s face had an intensity that she recognized. “I‘ll make sure they don’t follow you.”

  Lizzie hesitated; she wanted to trust him, her hate was wavering. And that made her question herself. “What about you?”

  “There’s a brown double-wide across the road and to the left. I’ll meet you there. Please. Trust me.”

  I won’t trust you. Not much. “Duke. You fuck with me, I’ll kill you—dead like your brother.”

  He winced. She regretted saying it. She could see nothing of CJ in Duke. But she had to let him know she wasn’t a scared little girl making empty threats. He nodded. They swapped keys.

  Rachael already had Saj in her arms.

  “Let’s go,” Lizzie ordered, running for Duke’s truck.

  Duke hauled gear out of the back of his truck. He left behind an impressive arsenal: guns, ammo and flares, along with things Lizzie didn’t recognize.

  He cut away the ropes holding the deer to the roof and hefted it onto his shoulders

  Lizzie was glad to find this rig was an automatic, too. Drivers Ed. would have been a good investment, Mama. She stuck the keys in and cranked it up. Rachael was in the extended cab with Saj. “Buckle in!” she said, but didn’t wait to be sure. The tires bit and she fishtailed then straightened out.

  Damn good thing there were no other cars on the bridge.

  She turned onto the dirt road Duke had suggested as an explosion echoed behind them.

  Rachael’s head jerked back at the sound. “Shouldn’t we keep going?”

  Lizzie didn’t respond but when she reached the double-wide she stopped and pulled in front of the pole building. Why am I trusting him? “Get out and open the door. Please.”

  Rachael got out, but the door wouldn’t budge. Lizzie jumped out to help and together they got it open.

  She parked the truck inside and then Lizzie reached back for Saj who had settled into a fussy whine. She handed him to Rachael. “Do what you can to keep him quiet.”

  She reached in her back pocket for her cell phone. “Dammit.”

  “What is it, Lizzie?”

  “My cell. I think it’s in the car. It has my mom’s last message and video of my little brother.” Her gut twisted. She would never hear them again. Then a worse thought interceded. “Shit. My dad’s number. And Zach’s and Nev’s. They don’t even know I’m alive. I need that phone. I gotta go.” She picked up the shotgun.

  “Where?” A deep voice asked behind her.

  Lizzie spun, jerking the shotgun up to defend them.

  It was Duke; she let her breath escape and the shotgun drop. Ten minutes ago he was going to kill me. Now I’m happy to see him? His pants were soaked up to his thighs. “My phone. It’s in the car.” She headed for the door.

  “Then it’s toast.” He dropped gear in the back of the truck and gripped her arm.

  “What do you mean it’s toast?” Lizzie demanded, jerking her arm from his grasp.

  “The car. I blew it up.” He turned back toward the truck. “Let’s go.”

  “Oh, god.” Lizzie collapsed to the ground.

  “Jesus,” Duke sighed. “Come on. Get in.”

  “You destroyed my phone.”

  He stared at her. “I saved your life.”

  “Nobody knows I’m alive.” Lizzie sat up on her haunches. “I need that phone.”

  “Here.” Duke climbed out of the truck and knelt by her, offering his phone.

  “I don’t know their numbers.” She stared at the dirty floor. Nothing mattered.

  “Come on,” Duke coaxed. “We’re all alive.” His voice softened. “Please, Lizzie. Get in. We don’t know how long before they figure out you weren’t in there.”

  “I’m going back.” Lizzie stood.

  Duke stood and stepped in front of her. “Don’t be stupid.”

  Rachael climbed back into the cab. “Come on, Lizzie.”

  “Shut up, Rachael.”

  “Lizzie,
” Rachael pleaded. “Saj needs you. You’re the only mom he’s got.”

  Lizzie looked at Saj. His eyes were round as saucers, and his thumb was planted firmly in his mouth. He was her baby. They were right. But that didn’t fill the hole in her heart where she knew she couldn’t hear Jayce or Mama’s voice again.

  “Okay.” Lizzie turned toward the truck. “All right. We need a car seat.” She let Duke help her into the passenger seat. Rachael handed her Saj. She nestled her nose in his hair and hugged him. His usual squirminess was gone and he let her hold him tight.

  “Let’s get down the road a bit,” Duke laughed grimly, “and we can go shopping.” He shoved the shifter into reverse and spun around.

  “Please. Drive slowly and carefully until then.” Lizzie buckled herself into the passenger seat and put the little center lap belt around Saj.

  “I will.” Duke nodded and let up on the gas. “Thanks for waiting for me. There were a lot of cars, but nobody followed across the bridge. What do you know about those people?”

  “What do I know about you?” Lizzie asked. “Why the hell did you follow me across three states?”

  Duke glared at her, but the corner of his mouth twitched and broke into a lopsided smile. “Fair enough. When I found C.J. dead and you ran, I wanted to kill you. I promised my dad I’d look after him. I wanted answers. Wanted you to pay.” He rolled to the edge of an intersection. “North or south?”

  “South. My dad’s south.”

  He let the truck creep forward until they could see down the road toward the bridge. Nobody was in sight. He coasted out into the street and gently nudged the truck forward. Lizzie looked back, trying to make out anyone following them.

  Duke pulled across the freeway.

  Lizzie’s heart pumped; she grabbed Duke’s shoulder. “Hey, that was south.”

  “Yeah.” His eyes met hers. “And it’s the main drag. I’m going to drive alongside it until we’re a ways away.” He pointed at his GPS.

  Duke drove. Rachael watched warily behind them and Lizzie watched Duke. “How’d you find me?”