Solar Reboot

by Matthew D. Hunt

  “Ain’t that convenient. We’re standing on the grave of the only other person who was there. What if it’s someone else tomorrow? What if he cuts himself up again? Would you believe him then, too?”

  “That would be different, and you know it.”

  Bettie scoffed. “Because Hernando was just some Mexican kid you didn’t like the look of. Save it.”

  She headed off towards Cameron’s house, old legs swinging in a march filled with purpose. Cameron watched her go. A feeling nagged her. A feeling she’d felt just the day before, when she saw Wade walk off just the same way.

  This still wasn’t over.

  CHAPTER 29

  Another day brought them to Banks Lake. Thicker at its north end than the south, it was shaped like a T-bone steak someone had stretched out on some medieval torture device. Unlike most of Washington’s gentle lakes, Banks was bordered mostly by cliffs, with an island in the middle that rose straight up and had sides as flat cake icing. It was one of those places that made you wonder if ancient explorers named things just to mess with those who came after; Banks hardly had any banks at all.

  Once, before Piper had been born, Alex and Cameron had come and vacationed here. Then, they’d stayed near the lake’s northern end, where it fed into the Columbia River just before that waterway hooked and ran south to form the border with Oregon. But now his road with Piper brought him to Banks’ southern end and a little town called, creatively enough, Banks Lake South. Well outside the town, they found a tiny motel and a truck stop. Both were abandoned. There was a semi trailer there, too, half full of fresh-cut hay. There was also a fenced area at the rear of the hotel where they could put the horses overnight.

  “We’ll stop here,” said Alex. “I don’t think we’ll find a better spot than this.” He didn’t voice the rest of his thought: that he’d hoped to find another vehicle for them to take as well. A pen and food for the horses seemed too lucky a find to start complaining about their fortune.

  Piper helped him coop up the horses and get them some hay. Alex poked his head into the greenhouse, but if there had been any vegetables in there, they were long gone now. He led Piper back to the hotel. The place was ancient, so the doors didn’t have modern hotel locks, which were almost impossible to break. Alex was able to kick one open easily. Max padded in and started sniffing around in the room’s corners. Alex was able to push the door handle mostly back into the door, and when he pushed it closed again, it seemed fairly secure. The place was still cold, but that would change soon with three bodies inside. The temperature had been dropping steadily, and Alex thought it couldn’t be very far above freezing. Another product of the solar burst he supposed—summer shouldn’t have been anything close to this cold. He dreaded the thought that it might snow soon. As if the going wasn’t tough enough already.

  He shook away his worries, along with the rainwater all over his jacket. “This’ll do,” said Alex. “Take a load off.”

  She complied immediately, throwing off her backpack and flinging herself down on one of the beds with a sigh. “Oh my god. This feels so much better than the ground. Or even a car seat.”

  Alex smiled. “You’re getting spoiled. You know it’s only been a few days since we were at Graham’s place.”

  “Yeah, well, I slept on a couch there, so this is still better.”

  He snorted. But mention of Graham almost reminded him of Denny, and his mind shied away at that. He sat on the other bed, and he couldn’t help a sigh of his own. A real mattress had become an almost unimaginable luxury, even if this one was low quality and likely flea-ridden. He thought he might actually melt when they finally made it to the cabin, and he could finally relax in his own bed.

  Mine and Cameron’s, that is.

  Holy cow, were they going to have some catching up to do.

  That was another thing he didn’t want to think about just now, though. So he pulled off his boots and peeled off his soaking wet socks. His boots were solid enough, but there was just no keeping out the constant rain. They took all their wet clothes and hung them around the room on chairs and doors, for the best possible chance to dry out while they slept. As she flexed her bare feet, Piper looked up at him with a frown.

  “I don’t want to sound like a little kid, but—how much longer?”

  “Till the cabins?” Alex pursed his lips and thought about it. “I remember the maps, but I was planning on us still being in a car. That would only take us a few hours. On foot, it would be more like a week. So, somewhere in between, I guess. Four days, maybe three if we push the horses hard. But I’m mostly guessing.”

  “I can’t wait,” said Piper quietly. “I love you, Dad, but this has not been a fun vacation.”

  She smiled weakly as she said it, and Alex laughed. “I don’t blame you, kiddo. This wasn’t exactly how I planned our trip, either. But it’s almost over.”

  Piper scowled with mock ferocity. “Don’t you dare jinx it.”

  Alex raised his hands as if surrendering. “Whatever you say. Check your blood sugar. Tomorrow we should get halfway to the mountains.”

  Alex went to the window, where the drapes were almost completely drawn. Outside it was all grey skies and falling rain. He could only barely see the truck stop just a few dozen yards away, and the town farther off was completely obscured. That, as much as anything else, should keep them safe here for the night. But just to be safe, he pulled the curtains all the way closed before he went to his pack and started unpacking a cold, cheerless dinner.

  * * *

  In the middle of the night, Max shot up to all four legs and began growling.

  Alex started awake from a light sleep. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision, before he realized the room was completely dark. He slithered out of bed and crawled to the window—and when he pulled aside the curtain, he was shocked to see silvery light outside.

  Stars and the moon. The sky was clear. How in all hell was the sky clear?

  Then another light appeared, shining right in his eye and almost blinding him. Headlights. He dropped to the floor until they passed over the window, then got back up on one knee again. Cracking the curtain, he peered out into the night.

  Not a car. A van. A black van with an insignia on the side. It read Geiger Corrections Center.

  Alex held his breath as a door opened. The man who got out wasn’t wearing the uniform of a guard, but a thick green coat tossed over an orange jumpsuit.

  Shit.

  Why were they stopping?

  They must have seen the horses. He’d left the saddles on—a clear sign someone was in the hotel.

  Max growled again. “Shush,” said Alex, putting a hand on the dog’s head.

  Still crouching, he crept across the room to where Piper was still asleep. He shook her until her eyes shot wide and covered her mouth.

  “Quiet,” he said. “We need to go, now. Get dressed and get your bag.”

  Neither of them had taken off more than their jackets and boots, so they were ready to go in less than a minute. The convicts outside hadn’t seemed to notice the hotel room door that was slightly ajar, for which he was thankful.

  They took their packs and slipped out the hotel room’s back door into the communal area with the pool. As they hit the below-freezing air, Alex slipped his pistol from his waistband, but he held it low, trying to keep it out of Piper’s sight.

  A back gate let them out into the grassland behind the hotel, which would allow them to sneak around to where the horses were. Alex tried to think a few steps ahead. If the convicts weren’t near the horses, he and Piper would hop on their saddles and ride out into the wilderness, away from the road. Even if they were followed, the van’s tires would likely pop at some point.

  If the horses were guarded, they’d strike out into the wilderness on foot. Their chances of being spotted at night were slim to none. They couldn’t make the rest of the journey on foot, but right now they had to survive. He could figure out the next step later.

 
And what if they do spot you? he thought. What then?

  He was trying to come up with an answer when a figure in an orange jumpsuit leapt from the shadows and punched him in the jaw.

  Stars danced in his vision for the second time in as many days. The blow didn’t land where Lamont had hit him with the shotgun, but his head was still sore from that hit. Somehow he managed to keep his feet, managed to keep from dropping the gun. He shoved Piper away, no time to be gentle, and raised the pistol.

  A muzzle flash lit the night, the sound like a thunderclap. The convict dropped.

  They had to run now. No time to go for the horses.

  “Piper—”

  He’d thought the man was alone. He was wrong. Two more came into view around the hotel’s corner. Alex got off one shot that missed by a mile before they tackled him, and the Glock went spinning away across the concrete.

  Alex landed badly, and something in his pack jabbed hard into his back. But he managed to twist out of the men’s grip anyway. He was free just long enough to deck one of them, but the convict didn’t go down. Then they had him by the arms again, and one of them drove a meaty fist into his gut.

  “Get his shit!”

  “Take him down!”

  They knocked him down, trying to pull the pack from his shoulders. But all of Piper’s remaining meds were in there. Alex fought like hell, thrashing and trying to free himself again.

  Hands seized him by the shoulders and lifted before slamming his head into the ground. The world went red and blurry.

  “Let him go!” Piper’s panicked voice made Alex’s head jerk up.

  God, no. Piper stood there with the Glock in her hand, swinging it back and forth between the two convicts.

  One of them laughed and took a step forward. Piper panicked, or maybe she meant to—but she pulled the trigger. The convict spun, screaming, and fell to the ground clutching his side. Piper’s face went ghost white.

  A savage, vicious snarling came from Alex’s right. Max came flying from the dark, his jaws locking on the other man’s arm. The convict shouted, and his grip on Alex loosened. Alex fought to his knees. But when he tried to rise higher, the world swam and he almost fell again.

  More shouts. More footsteps. More convicts came running from around the hotel.

  “Piper,” croaked Alex. “Run.”

  She didn’t hear him, or maybe she ignored him. But she stood there frozen, the gun not even fully raised. There were at least six of them, and her hesitation was going to rob her of the time to stop even one.

  BOOM

  A gunshot—far louder than the Glock. A crater opened in one of the men’s stomachs. He probed it with shaking hands before sinking to his knees, then falling flat on his face. The rest skidded to a halt.

  BOOM

  Another convict lost his leg at the knee. He fell with a high-pitched shriek.

  A huge figure stepped forward into the light of the motel’s single, crappy lamp. Lamont, shotgun raised.

  The rest of the convicts turned and ran.

  To Alex’s right, Max yelped. The convict had kicked him and finally shaken him loose.

  The man ran off into the dark—but not before scooping up Alex’s pack, which he’d finally managed to get off Alex’s back.

  “No,” moaned Alex, reaching out a hand.

  He finally found his feet, but it was no use. Each step nearly sent him back to the ground again, and his vision was still blurred. The convict vanished.

  Alex came to a stop, hand still outstretched. Slowly, he lowered it to his side.

  He heard light, quick breaths behind him and turned. Piper. She was shaking now, the gun dangling from fingers that were almost completely limp. Alex went to her as quickly as he could, and pried the Glock from her grip.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re okay. You did good.”

  She didn’t answer. It didn’t even seem like she’d heard him, as she stared through his chest and off into the distance. If Alex knew anything, she was seeing the man she’d shot—the man who was probably even now bleeding out on the pavement just a few feet away.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get away from this place.”

  He tried to lead her off, but he almost fell again. That got her out of her fugue, and she took his arm to put across her shoulders.

  “H-here,” she stammered, shivering from fear or from the cold. “Let me help.”

  They ambled slowly away from the courtyard and towards the field where they’d find the horses. From the other side of the hotel, Alex heard the sound of tires screeching as the van made a getaway. Lamont still stood where he’d stepped out of the shadows, and Alex stopped for a second to look up at him.

  “Thank you,” he said. His voice cracked. “We’d be—”

  “’S’all good,” said Lamont. “I knew some of these guys. Good riddance.”

  Alex nodded. “How’d you find us?”

  “Was in the truck stop,” said Lamont, tilting his head towards where it sat in the near distance. “I guess you were in the hotel. I thought about that, but I thought it might attract more attention. But when I heard the pistol shots, I came over.”

  “We’re glad you did,” said Alex. He tried to take another step, but his legs almost gave out, and Piper had to steady him. Lamont put out a hand on his shoulder, too.

  “Take it easy. Sorry about your head—but I guess they hit you a little harder than I did.”

  Alex chuckled. “Just a little. I’m fine, though. Fine.” He stood straighter and took his arm from Piper. His head was starting to clear. “Just shows you, though, that we really are heading the same way. You sure you don’t want to—”

  “Still no,” said Lamont. “You did me a solid, I’m glad to do one back. But this was a one-time thing. I’m not in the business of babysitting.”

  “Fair enough,” said Alex. “Then thank you. And good luck.”

  “You too.”

  Lamont turned to go. But Piper burst away from Alex and ran to him. The convict tensed as she threw her arms around his waist in a hug. She could barely reach all the way around him.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  His brow furrowing, Lamont looked over at Alex with something like terror. Alex could only give him a weak smile. Soon Piper disengaged herself and pulled away, returning to Alex’s side.

  “Uh, yeah,” said Lamont. “Sure thing. Y’all stay safe—safer, this time, I guess.”

  He walked away, still looking somewhat awkward, and soon he was lost in the night.

  CHAPTER 30

  It began to snow.

  The flakes were huge, the biggest Cameron had ever seen. Some were almost as wide as her palm. And they fell thick, buffeted by a strong wind that seemed to be trying to make up for the one clear night they’d had two days ago.

  It was four days since Hernando had been killed, and seven since she’d last spoke with Alex.

  Four days, he’d said. She’d made him promise. Now a week had passed, and no sign.

  They were all right. She knew they were, because any other possibility was simply unacceptable.

  That was what she told herself, at least, in the long hours she spent cooped up, a prisoner in her own home, pacing back and forth and all around. She’d stood guard the night before, and had no work shifts during the day. She was supposed to be sleeping, what with having been up most of the previous night, but thoughts of Alex and Cameron made that impossible. So she stirred restlessly about, and watched the snow slowly stack up outside, and checked on her supplies over and over again, and generally made herself and Bettie miserable.

  Bettie was stuck inside too, of course. She wasn’t fit for guard duty, and there was nothing to do in the garden other than check for weeds—something she did in the morning, effectively clearing her schedule for the rest of the day. She had nothing more to fill her time with than Cameron, and after making coffee, then breakfast, she slowly migrated from chair to couch and back again as she waited for the miserab
le snow day to pass.

  If it will even pass at all. Who knew but that tomorrow would be the same as today, or even worse?

  If it had been two weeks earlier, Cameron would happily have spent her time curled up under a blanket in the living room, chatting with Bettie and trading stories, and maybe enjoying herself even more than it was a work day. But Hernando’s death had thrown Bettie into a foul mood she seemed unwilling to pull herself out of.

  Not that Cameron could blame her. Of course it was horrible. Of course it didn’t make sense, and Bettie had every excuse to harbor a grudge against Wade for what had gone down. But Cameron knew, or at least had a strong feeling, that Bettie wanted something from her—something she wasn’t sure she could, or wanted to, provide.

  The quiet expectation hung between them all morning and promised to make the rest of the day just as bad. But fortunately for them both, Bettie seemed to have more courage than Cameron did, because just as Cameron was starting to think about having lunch and then finding some excuse to leave the house for the rest of the day, the old woman sighed and threw her hands in the air.

  “Lord almighty, girl, we gotta talk, because if this goes on much longer I’m going to march out into the cold and keep walking until I keel over.”

  Cameron had been on her way to the kitchen, and the first sound of Bettie’s voice made her freeze in her tracks. But she’d been expecting the start of a fight, and so Bettie’s words struck her as even funnier than they would have in normal circumstances, and she barked a loud laugh before she could help herself. Strain bled from the room like blood from a sliced vein, and Cameron settled herself on one of the stools by the kitchen bar.

  “You’d better not,” said Cameron. “But I guess you’re right that it’s been pretty miserable.”

  “You think? You stalking all around here like a cat about to pop out kittens, and I’d be the same except the cold’s got my damn knee keeping me from walking.”