Suppressing a smile of his own, Riker said, “It’s settled, then. Everybody mount up.”
Chapter 27
At the mouth of the Santa Fe Correctional Facility’s public entry, Warden Littlewolf steered the fire engine left. As she cut the turn a bit short, the rig’s rear wheels jumped the curb and rolled over a twenty-foot run of nicely manicured shrubs, leaving every one of them bent and twisted.
Seeing the shrubs being spit out from the engine’s rear tires, Riker slowed the Shelby. With the EarthRoamer close on his tail, he steered left at the T and followed the engine at a respectful distance as it motored along Camino Justicio. In no time, Littlewolf’s driving went from erratic to semi-controlled.
Inside the EarthRoamer, Steve-O leveled his gaze at Shorty and, without shame or a glimmer of embarrassment, said, “You have a small penis, don’t you, Shorty?”
Grip tightening on the wheel, Shorty said, “That’s a hell of a way to treat your Uber driver.”
If Steve-O understood the rideshare reference, he didn’t let on. Twisting in his seat to face Shorty, he went on, saying: “I think Lee has a small penis, too. My caregiver, Marcy, said guys drive big trucks because they have small penises. Dolly is big. The truck you stole from the new car lot was big. Marge”—he slapped a hand on the dust-covered dash—“is bigger than both of them combined.” Finished lobbing accusations, he leveled a questioning look at Shorty.
Eyes on the road, Shorty said, “I’m guessing Lee calls his new race truck Dolly. Am I right?”
Smiling, Steve-O said, “I named her Dolly.”
“You have the hots for Dolly Parton, eh?”
“She’s a talented lady.”
“Plus she has big—” Shorty began.
“—Beautiful eyes,” Steve-O finished. “And her breasts are bigger than most.”
Shorty said, “You know what, Steve-O? Your mouth is like a magician’s hat—you never know what’s going to come out of it.”
Shifting his attention forward, Steve-O said, “I have never had a rabbit in my mouth.”
With a block to go to the next turn, realizing the warden had no intention of stopping at the looming merger with New Mexico State Road 14, Shorty kept Marge glued to the Shelby’s rear bumper.
Reaching the junction with SR-14, all three vehicles blew the stop sign. Tires screeched as they made the right turn as if they owned the road. In a way, they did own the road. Nothing had changed since Riker had last been through here. Same static vehicles dotting the shoulders. Same sea of stalled vehicles atop the elevated stretch of Interstate 25, the sun glinting off dirt-streaked automotive glass.
At Lia’s urging, when Littlewolf hooked a left at the next major north-south arterial, Riker kept the Shelby tracking due east, parallel to 25, downtown Santa Fe still a few miles north by east.
Beating Riker to the punch, from the backseat, Benny said, “I thought your place is north of downtown Santa Fe. Looks like you’re taking us somewhere else.”
Lia said, “You drive, I’ll navigate.”
Riker said, “Sticking to a more direct route would burn less gas.”
“Ever thought about trading this monster truck for something that gets better gas mileage?”
Riker knew instantly that Lia was trying to change the subject. He said, “You sound like my sister.” He didn’t go so far as telling Lia about Tara’s little Smart car, but he did mention how his sister was more fiscally conscious than he and not prone to making snap decisions and then failing to divulge said decisions until trapped and left with no other option.
Lia said, “I think I’m going to like your sister.”
In the next beat, Benny was in Steve-O’s usual spot: elbows hooked over the seatback, head thrust into the front of the cab where the action was. “Why not take the wider roads? More room to turn around if we come up against a roadblock or another horde of biters.”
“Benny has a point,” Riker said. “We have to think about Marge, too.”
Navigating a bit like Riker’s late mother—calling out the directions mere seconds before they had to be acted upon—Lia said, “Turn right.”
For this very reason, Riker’s father always hated taking driving directions from his mother. What started out as a nice Sunday exploratory drive in the Heartland usually ended in hurt feelings after several unintended stops to ask strangers for directions. Remembering that for the first time in his life he was the owner of a rig with a navigation system, Riker pointed it out to Lia. “Input your address.”
“That thing still works?”
Benny said, “We’ve been trying to figure out why the phones are all down but not the Global Positioning System. Lee says it’s because the military relies on it. I think it’s just a matter of time before orbits decay and the satellites plunge to earth.”
“Here we go again,” Riker said. “So, Mister NASA, how long does it take for an orbit to decay? Do you know? Or are you just spouting a line from Armageddon?”
They were already several miles east of the county jail when Lia leaned forward and powered on the Shelby’s SYNC system. After getting to the Navigation screen, she inputted a destination address and tapped the GO icon. While the computer brain worked up all of the possible routes to get there from here, she pushed the screen around with one finger until she found a point of interest to her. Unable to read the street names, she toggled the Zoom feature until the screen was dominated by a blocks-long run of a certain east-west arterial. The divided four-lane was bright red and cut through the center of a slew of sprawling campuses, each dominated by tall buildings and centrally located parking lots. After keying in on the names of individual buildings within the campuses—Christus St. Vincent Regional Medical Center, Unity Medical Clinic, Lovelace Health Systems, Bonita Medical Center, and Alma Family Medicine—Riker knew exactly what he was looking at and was wracked by an uncontrollable shiver he hoped went unnoticed by Lia and Benny.
Putting a finger on the screen and tracing it right-to-left along the entire run of red, she said, “This is why I took us on the scenic route.”
Voice dripping with sarcasm, Benny said, “Great scenery. Abandoned automobiles, dead bodies, looted stores, and burned-to-the-ground homes. What’s next on the tour? A horde of hungry zombies?”
“If we had gone anywhere near this cluster of buildings, that’s exactly what we would be faced with.” Lia was moving the digital map by touch as she spoke. “The dead own Saint Michaels Drive from Old Pecos all the way west to Galisteo Street. And each time I’ve gone out and about, their territory has grown. Better to be safe than sorry.”
Riker remembered the area well. After seeing the shit show unfolding outside the hospital in Miami, running out of gas near so many possible flashpoints of outbreak had been disconcerting. It was only trumped by the lonely trek to the gas station, empty can in one hand and the big Legion tucked out of sight. Since coming back from Iraq, Riker couldn’t remember feeling that exposed to imminent danger. Luckily, the brushfire that was the spread of Romero had just reached Santa Fe.
Wisely keeping the “running out of gas” story to himself—mainly because he didn’t want to give Lia more anti-Shelby ammo—Riker asked her if there really were any auto parts or home and garden concerns nearby.
“We’re almost there,” was all she said.
Having been focused mostly on looking down the side streets as they blipped through intersections, Benny said, “I hope they’re close to here because I’m starting to see more and more deadheads the farther north we go.”
Lia’s home address was represented on the screen by a tiny icon. It was tucked dead center in a subdivision a few blocks north and east of the outermost campus of the cluster of buildings she had just pointed out.
Eyes back to watching the road ahead, Riker asked, “Are you going to be safe there all alone?” He paused long enough to follow her next blurted direction. “I mean, you do live alone, right?”
Smiling, Lia said, “I see that chivalry is not dead.” Looking
across the seat at Riker, she went on, “Screw the PC crap. I think it’s sweet that you care about my well-being. Are you taking a liking to me, Lee Riker?”
Riker felt a sudden warmth spreading up from his collar. The slow creep brought on by the embarrassment of being found out continued up his neck, then spread to his cheeks and forehead. Showing your cards prematurely. Good going, Lee. Thankful for the coverage his hat and blood-matted beard provided, he said, “I’d ask the same thing if you were a man.” Of course that was a lie. If Lia were a man, Riker would probably stop and offer a fist bump and a curt “Good luck” while thinking Hurry up followed by Don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya.
But Lia was all woman, and hell yes he was “taking a liking to her.” But he was rusty as hell at this game. So he answered with a Cro-Magnon-like grunt.
Playing the wingman role, Benny interjected himself into the conversation. “Do you live alone?”
She said, “I do now,” then proceeded to tell Riker to turn right and park at the curb. A beat later she was pointing to a one-level adobe the color of strained yams. It sat on a sloped lot and was crowded in on both sides by larger homes built in the same architectural style. Both homes looked to be recent additions to a part of town dominated by smaller homes surrounded by ample yards. The gate at the bottom of the stairs and wrought iron bars on the windows and front door to Lia’s place spoke volumes to the neighborhood’s previous disposition.
The rest of Lia’s street was more of the same: half a dozen newer homes, all twice the size of her little casa. The block sloped upward at a shallow angle and ended at a car-choked cul-de-sac. If anyone was alive in any of the surrounding homes, they certainly weren’t parting curtains or opening doors to show their faces.
Throwing the transmission into Park, Riker scanned the mirrors. Since the EarthRoamer had yet to enter the picture, he said, “I didn’t see any of the places we talked about. Is there a Home Depot close by? Maybe an AutoZone?”
“There’s a strip mall not too far from here. A mom and pop hardware store is tucked in there with a few other businesses. If it hasn’t already been looted, I’m pretty sure you’ll find everything you need there.”
Riker was about to ask Lia for directions when sun glinting off glass drew his eye to the side mirror. It was Shorty’s rig turning the corner. As Riker watched, the EarthRoamer came to a complete stop. In the passenger seat, Steve-O seemed to be leaning forward and craning to see something on the driver’s side of the truck. The something appeared a tick later. It was a jacked-up 4x4 pickup, red with white racing stripes down the hood. It rolled up on the larger truck fast, left-to-right on Shorty’s side, then skidded to a complete stop.
Since Riker couldn’t see enough to know who was in the 4x4 or what danger Shorty and Steve-O may be in, he drew the Legion and elbowed his door open. Before he exited the Shelby, the 4x4’s engine revved high into the RPM band and the pickup’s oversized knobby tires chirped as it sped off, leaving behind a lingering cloud of blue-gray smoke.
Staring out the back window, Glock drawn and aimed at the floor, Benny said, “That was a short-lived encounter.”
After turning a quick three-sixty and determining he wasn’t being stalked by anything, living or dead, Riker fished the radio from his pocket. Thumbing the Talk button, he said, “What was that all about?”
Shorty came back right away. “A couple of twentysomething kids brandishing cheap pawn-shop pea shooters. Didn’t see them on my six until I slowed for the turn. By that time, it was stop there or drive forward and chance getting you all dragged into whatever they were planning.”
Lia was on the edge of her seat, literally, and staring at Riker through the open door.
“What do you think they were after?” Riker asked.
Shorty said, “They wanted Marge. No doubt about it.”
Though Riker thought he knew the answer to his next question, he still wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth. “What’d you do to change their minds so quickly?”
Shorty said, “I showed them Shocky’s lead-spittin’ end.” He paused. “Didn’t hurt that Steve-O here was mean-mugging them. Should have just ran down my window and let him spring the penis inquisition on them.”
Riker said, “I’ve been on the deadly end of that thing. Muzzle’s big as a manhole cover when it’s in your face. And don’t get me started on the penis thing. I too have been on the receiving end of Steve-O’s penis inquisition.”
Shorty asked, “Is Lia’s place the one sandwiched between the new builds?”
“Yeah,” Riker said, sounding tired. “Figure I’ll escort her across the street and make sure nobody’s inside before we leave her here alone.”
Arms hooked over the seatbacks, Benny regarded Lia. “You have a gun … right?”
She nodded. “It’s inside. Under my bed.”
Lot of good it does there, Benny thought. Speaking to Riker, he said, “I’ll wait with the truck.”
“Watch the houses. Focus on windows and doors,” Riker said. “If you see anything at all … hit me on the radio.”
Benny flashed a thumbs-up and started scanning their surroundings.
Pressing the Talk key, Riker said, “Shorty. You there?”
“Standing by.”
“Watch the road,” Riker said. “Warn me right away if you see those kids coming back around.”
“You got it,” Shorty said. “Just don’t leave us hanging for too long. If those kids do come back, it’ll be with reinforcements and better firepower.”
Riker had already taken that into consideration but hadn’t thought it necessary to say in front of Lia.
“In and out,” Riker said. “Two minutes, tops.” On the way out of the Shelby, he reminded Benny to lock the doors.
Chapter 28
Riker pocketed his radio, drew the Legion, and followed Lia across the street. He had her pause on the sidewalk, where they spent a few seconds scrutinizing the adobe’s front elevation.
“Is everything just how you left it?”
“We’ll know real soon,” she said cryptically. “Let’s go.”
A minute after exiting the Shelby, Riker was following Lia up the double stack of stairs, his prosthesis creaking with every step, and a dull ache starting deep within his stump.
He tried his best to keep his eyes downcast as they scaled the steps. It proved to be a monumental task, what with Lia’s contour-hugging running attire. The one time he did sneak a peek, he found himself wondering where in God’s name she was keeping her house key.
Only when Lia had reached the second of two landings and was standing oblique to Riker did he lift his gaze.
Hanging from the tiny porch roof was a set of bamboo wind chimes. Someone had had the foresight to silence them with rubber bands.
On the landing by Lia’s feet was a week’s accumulation of the local newspaper. They were folded up and stuffed into clear plastic bags. Though Riker couldn’t read any of the old headlines, he knew in those last days none of the news was good.
Before the front door was a colorful welcome mat. It was emblazoned with the ubiquitous Olympic rings and the word: BIATHLON.
On a rickety chair next to the door sat a ceramic planter filled with different species of cacti.
A thin coating of dust covered everything. Imprinted in the dust on the landing was a set of footprints. They had been made by the last person to leave the house. A closer look told Riker the pattern matched the new tracks left on the stairs by Lia’s shoes.
Riker asked, “Is this the only door you use to come and go?”
She nodded. “First thing I did when I got home was to barricade the shit out of the back slider. Used some plywood my father had stored in the garage. Put it up with masonry screws he’d left behind.”
Why just the one set of prints leaving the house, then? Riker wondered. She’d talked as if coming and going was a regular occurrence.
Parting a pair of cacti with one hand, Lia extracted a sin
gle bronze key from the dirt between them.
Though the lack of foreign footprints on the landing was a good indicator the place was as Lia had left it, that might not be the case next time she ventured out. “How do you know you’re the only one who has come and gone?”
She pointed out the footprints on the landing.
Good job, Riker thought.
She went up on her tiptoes and plucked something from high up on the door and jamb. Dangling a strand of her own hair in front of Riker’s face, she said, “This is my backup. If it’s gone, so am I. In a heartbeat.”
As Lia worked the key in the lock, Riker asked, “Where’d you learn that trick?”
She pushed in the door. Craning around the door’s edge, she said, “A James Bond movie.”
Riker said, “I’m impressed.”
“Girls watch action movies, too.”
Riker thought, She’s a keeper, and stepped into the house. No sooner had he set foot on the tiny tiled foyer and closed the door behind him than Benny’s voice emanated from the radio in his pocket. Though the volume was low, he could detect stress in the friend’s voice.
“All good in there?” Benny asked.
“Be out in a minute or two,” Riker replied. Turning to Lia, radio in one hand, gun in the other, he said, “Let me do a quick walkthrough. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”
Pointing to the boarded-over sliding door, Lia said, “We’re alone. Be right back,” and struck off down the only hall in the tiny home.
Even in the dim light, Riker could make out the home’s entire layout from where he stood. The living room was on his left: low couch of Scandinavian design. Funky paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling. An economically sized flat-screen television atop a white ash stand.
In the far corner was some kind of palm. It was a vibrant green, perfectly symmetrical, and nearly as tall as Riker. Nearly every flat surface in the living room was taken up by a different type of houseplant. Clearly, Lia had a green thumb.
Riker's Apocalypse (Book 3): The Precipice Page 18