Carter hadn’t shut up since he finished his last Coke. “Lizzie, you really are kinda crazy, ain’t ya? Kinda remind me of my daughter, God rest her soul.” He sighed and shook cigarette ash out the window.
“Yeah.”
“You know I really ain’t a slaver. I worked it out in my head. You want to know what I figure?” He fumbled open the six-pack cooler, driving with his knee for a moment. “Damn, no more Coke.”
Lizzie ignored him.
“It’s like Lincoln said,” he continued, even without a prompt. “‘Most people do about the best they can with what they got any given moment.’ Or somethin’ like that.”
“It was Anne Frank.”
“Yeah. Mebbe. I’m doin’ right by people.”
“Yourself included?” she spat.
“Why not?” He took another drag on his cigarette.
Her confidence was shaken in the light of the new day. She wondered if she really would find her dad in Provo, and once she did, how she would get away and find her friends again. What if they left without her? She realized she had been in such a rush to find her dad that she had left behind the people who were most important to her.
“Want some music?” Lizzie asked. “I can plug in my player.” She held her breath and took the dead phone out of her pocket.”
“Sure. But I doubt you’ll have my kind of music, youngster.”
“Try me.” Lizzie’s shoulders relaxed, as she plugged it into the cigarette lighter. He hadn’t realized it was a phone—or maybe he didn’t care. “I’m pretty eclectic.”
“Waylon, Merle, Willie. Johnny Cash. You might have some of his stuff. That newer crap.”
“Got ‘em. Mom was into country and old rock. They’re kinda all mixed in. You like Patsy? Emmylou?”
“Like ‘em both.” He sounded excited, like he hadn’t expected to hear music again.
Lizzie slid through the music. “Crazy. Sort of my theme song.”
He laughed and turned up the volume, belting out the chorus. The music put Carter in a better mood and she was able to flip back and forth, unnoticed, between the music and texting, as the phone charged.
She texted Zach. Heading for provo. Where r u?
Carter’s phone rang, and Lizzie jumped, thinking it was her phone for a moment. He answered his phone, she made sure hers was on silent.
From Lizzie’s side, the conversation consisted only of monosyllabic comments.
He took the next exit as he hung up the phone. He smiled at her. “A little detour. Keep us out of The City for a while…”
“My dad?”
“Already on the way.”
“What?”
“On his way to The City. I got shit to take care of in Salt Lake.”
Lizzie seethed. Behind them the others followed, taking the exit into Salt Lake City. The snow had thickened, coating the entire freeway white. No road crews anymore. She tried breathing gently like a counselor had suggested once. In deep, then out slow.
She forgot the music and the phone as they got further from her dad. Her mood became more foul. She slunk down low in the seat, refusing to look at Carter. They drove on in silence.
“Collectors ain’t the only thing to worry about, you know.”
He seemed disappointed when she didn’t ask what he meant.
“There are people out there, call themselves the Utah Independents, they don’t just collect young women. They’re your slavers.” He paused as if to let that sink in. “The City’s not all peaches and cream, but out here it’s worse.”
Lizzie texted one handed: Not going to provo yet.
Zach woke to full sun alone in a strange bed. He sighed deeply and shoved himself up. He found the others in the living room: Rachael playing blocks with Saj, Spike sleeping in the sun and Duke cleaning his guns. Duke nodded at Zach.
Nev’s fingers tapped away on the computer. He crossed to her and hugged her from behind.
“Sorry,” he whispered in her ear.
“I know.” She turned her head and kissed his cheek. “Me too.” Her words convicted him. She was sorry he’d been a jerk. But they also implied it would be okay.
“What’d you find?” Zach motioned to the computer.
“Nothing new.” She shook her head. “It’s like Utah is the dead zone. There’s nothing happening. Not sure how I can explain it. No online activity. It’s like someone’s controlling the web. It’s up, but nothing is originating from here. She pulled her chair back from the computer and turned to face him. “You wanna go for a run?” She jabbed him gently in the gut.
“Yeah, get some fresh air. Rachael, you okay with Saj?”
“Of course.“
“Be back in a bit.” Zach stared at Duke. What a freaking weird world. “Are you and Spike okay?”
Duke nodded. “I think so. I fed him some beef stick last night.” He grinned. “That won him over. How about you?"
Zach shrugged. You want to know if I have a grudge with you? “I don’t know.”
Duke nodded. “Fair.” He turned back to the guns.
Zach and Nev pulled on jackets and headed out into the cold.
They ran in silence for a while. Running cleared his head. Finding Lizzie’s dad had been the whole plan. He wasn’t sure what to do, but clearly they couldn’t abandon Lizzie. They needed a new plan. If they rescued Lizzie and her dad was still a prisoner… She wouldn’t leave without him. Their new plan would have to include getting Mannie and Jess.
“I tried sending texts to Jess’ phone and Mannie’s. Nothing back.” Nev said.
They slowed to an easier pace, Zach puffed between words. “I guess we wait. Keep a low profile.” They jogged on.
After a bit, Nev turned and continued to jog backwards. “I miss my folks. And my grandpa. And grandma. Can’t hardly see how Lizzie could handle missing Jayce.”
“Yeah, but she left Saj?” Zach shook his head. “I don’t understand it.”
“I don’t get how she thinks she can break her dad out of The City.”
“The key word in that sentence is ‘think.’ Lizzie reacts; she doesn’t think.” Zach temper burned. “We need to take care of each other, but she keeps doing her own thing. She’s so...so..." He stopped running, unable to talk and run like Nev. She stopped beside him.
“Selfish,” Nev finished. “But as selfish as she was, she made sure we got out of there. Now we have to do the same for her.”
He clenched his fists. “They got the Tank. Makes me feel naked."
“Then let’s get another one. And we need weapons.” Nev’s lips tightened into a line. “I don’t like guns. Never have. But last night when Duke handed one to me, it felt necessary.”
“Duke seems well-stocked, but we should find you something your size.”
They returned to the house hand in hand.
Carter drove with a scowl on his face. Something was going on and he had stopped being loquacious. He sat there stewing over something.
The sky darkened and Lizzie lost hope of seeing her dad today.
Carter barked, “Shut off the damn music.”
She pulled some headphones out of the glove-box and slid them over her ears; Carter didn’t argue.
Lizzie was no longer sure she wanted go into The City as a captive. If she could figure out a way to get them in an accident and pop the air bags, maybe she could run away.
The moon loomed large and low over the hills, glowing bright against the faded sky. The snow had eased off, only a few flakes, but it was deep on the freeway.
Before Lizzie could figure out how to enact her car crash plan, Carter’s walkie-talkie spit static then voices; Lizzie jerked the headphones from her ears, so she could hear what was going on. She didn’t like how worried Carter looked.
The walkie talkie speaker scratched, “Carter, we got trouble.”
“On my way. Get reinforcements.” He released the talk button.
“What?” Lizzie asked.
“Independents sighted near my home base.
” Carter gripped the steering wheel and the truck sped up. He didn’t say another word until they pulled into “home base,” the county jail.
Carter led her into a holding cell. He slid the door shut and hollered, “Clear.”
Lizzie heard the bolts clunk into place. She glanced around. The cell had been modified from its former purpose, pink bedding, art on the wall, and a shower curtain around the toilet. There were a couple chairs and a pair of beds with a pile of reading material on one.
She lay down; she hadn’t slept well. Self-doubts spun through her head as she lay there feeling queasy.
An old Rolling Stone magazine with Johnny Depp on the cover caught her eye. The thought of no more new music and no more new magazines made her sad. She tossed the pile onto the floor and crawled into the covers.
Carter had been dumb enough to leave her with her cell phone, and it was fully charged now. She pulled it out to text.
No signal. But there was an answer to her last text from Zach. Okay. Waiting.
Lizzie had done the right thing rescuing her friends. They were worth it, but letting herself get caught was making less and less sense. She’d hoped to be with her father by now. Was he worth it? The voice on the phone had said he was passed out drunk. She closed her eyes, tired emotionally and physically.
Zach, Duke and Nev talked strategy over lunch, cans of stew Rachael had found and heated up. They made a list of sporting goods shops in Salt Lake. They agreed to scout for vehicles and guns on the way.
Zach snorted. “Not like people have stickers on their doors that says ‘Registered Gun Owners of America.’”
“Wait,” Nev said. “That’s it. I wonder if Glen can get us that info?” She was already dialing. “I bet it’s on a computer somewhere.”
“Good idea,” Duke said.
“Yeah.” Zach nodded. “Using your head.”
Glen was still hiding, but no longer hungry. He’d stolen a case of army rations from the guys staking out his building. He ran some searches and e-mailed them a list of addresses of gun owners.
Duke mapped out a route on his laptop. “We’ll look for a second vehicle as we go.”
Zach scanned the streets as they drove. He was tired of driving in a vehicle crammed with people. Something smaller would do fine. He spotted a small white RAV4. “Stop. Back up. Down that street."
Duke whipped a u-turn, squirreling the tires.
Zach grabbed the oh-shit handle. "Thanks.” It was a Toyota hybrid, not the big Highlander he’d had his heart set on in Bellingham, but the smaller RAV4. Ought to fit four comfortably. Hopefully it had a full charge. He hopped out. It was locked, of course. The dashboard alarm light was flashing. That was a good sign. He turned to Duke.
Duke shrugged. He reached into the bed of the truck and hefted a metal baseball bat. “Here. You might need a house key."
Zach caught it with his left hand, “Thanks.” He strode to the house, swinging the bat loosely. He hit the doorbell. It echoed in the house.
He twisted the doorknob. The door opened. Zach pushed it gently. “Hello? Can I borrow your car?” Breaking in still nerved him up, but it came out as energy. He gripped the bat with both hands, holding it ready. There was a coat rack right inside the door with some key hooks full of assorted keys. In a dish on a little shelf lay a full ring of keys, including a Toyota key and a bunch of others. He pressed the unlock button and heard the vehicle chirp softly. “Bingo.” He walked back outside.
“Always wanted to drive one of these.” Duke opened the door and beckoned for Zach to get in. “And check out the engine."
“Yeah. Me too.” Zach sat down wondering if Duke was humoring him. A button glowed green on the dashboard. Zach pushed it. There was a low hum and barely perceptible rumble. “So far, so good."
“You sure you don’t want a gas-based one?” Duke smiled. “No need to save the planet, right?”
Zach wanted this car. “It’ll do for now.” He climbed in and played with the vehicle. Duke got in the other side. There was a red button on the dashboard. Looked like an aftermarket add-on. “What’s this? The ejection seat?” Zach pressed it. Suddenly he heard engine noise, loud pistony engine sounds. The digital readout read V8 truck.
Duke was laughing. “It’s a fake.”
Zach pressed it again and again. VW Bug. Then Harley Davidson. Then Landspeeder. “Awesome.” He grinned and left it humming.
His phone buzzed. Nev. He answered it. “Yeah?”
“Lizzie sent a text,” Nev blurted. “Her dad and Jess are in some kind of trouble.”
Zach sighed. “We’re on our way.”
At the safe-house he glanced around at the crew. He’d gotten another text, too. “They’re not headed for Provo, some kind of delay. This is probably our last chance to get her back the easy way.”
32
ZACH TURNED OFF THE WOOSHING Landspeeder sound and drove the RAV on silent. White always seemed like a stupid color for a car, especially a 4X4, but today in the snow it was good. He shut the lights off, too.
The snow had settled; the moon was full and bright. All was silent in the world. The tracks in the snow were visible, but only as a series of intertwining ruts, one filled with more snow than the other. The highway climbed gradually. Zach split the middle between the downslopes and the ditches, driving carefully.
Nev, Saj, Rachael and Charley waited in Duke’s truck. Waiting while Zach, Duke, and Spike went on another damn fool’s errand.
Spike’s eyes scanned the snow, a smile on his face. In the back-seat Duke checked the chambers of his small arsenal of guns for the umpteenth time. Click-clack. Click-clack.
“Duke? Is this a good idea?”
“Hell if I know. It makes as much sense as anything in this new world. You shoot a handgun before?”
Zach nodded. “Yeah.”
“Here.” Duke handed him a pistol.
Zach hefted it. Heavy. Solid. It reminded him of Gramps’ war-issue .45. “Thanks. Hopefully we won’t be needing it.”
“Safety’s on. Right by the thumb. Don’t shoot your foot off.”
Zach wound steadily up the mountain, silent as the wind outside. The perfect stealth vehicle.
“Spike?” Zach looked over at Spike, mesmerized by the snow. “When we stop. You stay. In car. Okay?”
Spike nodded.
Duke said, “Slow. My phone says we’re near the pass.”
A beam of light flashed ahead. “Duke. You see that?” Zach’s eyes strained for more.
“What?”
“Up there,” Zach said, “I saw a flashlight, I think.” He took his foot off the gas and let the vehicle slow to a stop on its own. He pulled the emergency brake and took a deep breath.
Duke handed him two full magazines. “14 rounds each for the Smith & Wesson.”
Zach pocketed them. He slid his hand up and turned off the door ajar light. “Okay. And?”
“Shotgun or rifle?”
“Rifle.”
Duke handed him a rifle straight out of the Old West. “Big Boy. 45 Colt.”
“That’ll do.” Zach smiled grimly. “I guess I’m growed up enough.”
“I don’t have extra holsters.”
“I’ll be all right.” Zach turned back to Spike. “Spike. Stay. In the car. Okay?” He ripped open a bag of jerky and dumped it in his lap. That ought to keep him busy.
“Let’s go.”
Subdued light streamed into the cell. Lizzie blinked her eyes and forced herself up. Her stomach growled. She got out of bed and tugged the covers with her, shuffling to the door of the cell.
“Hey, Carter.” No response. “Anybody out there? I’m hungry.” She heard a boom followed by the small pop of firecrackers, and for a moment wondered what the celebration was. Then it hit her, those rat-a-tats weren’t fireworks; they were gunfire.
“Shit.” She envisioned herself starving, locked in the cell as the rest of the world went crazy around her.
Lizzie rattled the bars. “Hey! Anybody out
there?” she yelled.
Hell of a place to die. Mama had always said things would get better. But they never did for her. Mama had a way of not really living in the real world.
Lizzie held out her cell phone and walked around the room, looking for signal. Plenty of bars in here, but not the kind I need.
From time to time she heard more gunfire, distant explosions and yelling.
Lizzie went through her pockets. She had 27 cents, a Band-Aid, the cigarette from last night and lint. “Looks like Crazy Lizzie fucked things up again.” Nothing she could do but get back in bed and wait.
She should have waited. She should have let Zach and Nev and Duke help her, instead of being the stupid lone gun. She didn’t even have a gun. As Zach would say, “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”
Lizzie went to the garbage can, nothing in it. A scrunched up piece of paper lay beside it. She picked it up and straightened it out. There were drawings and words, names. Lizzie, Mannie, BeeGee, Zach… “Oh, my god. ” Her father and Jess had been here. How long ago? Minutes before she’d arrived? Hours? She’d been so close. But close only counted in horse-shoes, hand grenades and slow dancing.
Lizzie’s fingers traced the scars on her arm. How long ago since she’d cut herself? She could picture it happening. See the blood as the razor cut filled the line with red. It was another life. With all those other parts: Jerkwad, school, Chad.
Back then she had been afraid of the future. Now she feared the present.
The sun died on the horizon and the sound of gunfire died with it. The buzzing of the bare fluorescent corkscrew bulb above her head was the only sound—and the only light.
Lizzie lay back down and dozed fitfully.
The cell door slid open and into place with a metallic thud. Lizzie rolled out of the bed, groggy and looking for weapons.
Carter came through, tired, sweaty and dirty. “Come, if you’re coming.” His hair was disheveled; blood that didn’t look like it was his stained his shirt.
“What happened?”
“Independents happened. They want us to stay south. Think we’re honing in on their territory. The van carrying our last batch of folk is stranded. We need to get to ‘em before the Independents do.”
ALL IS SILENCE Page 27