Текст книги "Day One"

Автор книги: Summer Lane

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Chapter Three

“So. You’re not a thief. You’re not a carjacker,” Elle said, smiling slightly over the flames of the small campfire. “What are you, Jay?”

Jay shrugged, dark eyes glimmering against dark skin.

“Why do you have to keep it a secret?” Elle pressed.

It was late. The night was cold. Georgia lay asleep next to Flash and Pix, a tangled mass of blond curls and long legs.

“Because,” Jay replied, “secrets are the only things I have left.”

Elle pressed her lips together.

“You know,” she said, “my family was rich. Before all of this. Before Day Zero, when everything went insane.” She shook her head. “Didn’t do us any good. When the EMP hit, our bank account just stopped existing. There was nothing my parents could do to stop it. My dad and my older brother. They died in the first two weeks, trying to get food from a grocery store that was overrun with looters.” Elle leaned her chin against her knees, staring at the fire. “All of it – civilization, I mean. It took five thousand years to build it and two weeks to tear it apart. It’s depressing when you think about it.”

Jay turned his gaze from the fire, looking at Elle.

“It didn’t surprise me,” he said. “That’s what man is. We’re just as feral as any wild animal out in the forest. We just like to pretend we’re not. And when something happens to shatter the illusion, everyone acts so shocked.”

“So you believe people are inherently evil?”

“Basically.”

“But what about us? We’re not evil. We’re just trying to stay alive.”

Jay shook his head. He lowered his voice.

“But look at what we have to do to survive,” he whispered. “We kill.”

“In self-defense. You said yourself that there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Of course there’s something wrong with it!” Jay’s voice went up a notch, and Elle flinched. “It’s not right. To have to kill someone so that you can stay alive? To keep them from killing you for the same reason? It’s chaos. It’s…” He trailed off, rubbing his temples with his fingers. He looked tired, weary. “It’s mankind,” he said at last. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

They said nothing for a few moments, until the unearthly howl of coyotes broke the silence. “We’re all going to die in the end, aren’t we?” Elle whispered.

Jay looked in her eyes.

“In the end,” he replied, “everybody dies.”

It was late. Elle sat with her back against the wall in the corner of the general store, watching Sienna. The woman sat on the floor near Bob, who was still completely passed out. Sienna slowly cleaned the empty bottles of booze and lined them up along the wall, counting them under her breath.

Elle wondered who the siblings had been before the EMP.

She wondered if they’d had family. If they’d been married.

Elle shook herself. She had to focus. She looked at the map. She’d spread it out on the floor, marked her route with a red pen from her backpack. From where she was, the San Jacinto Mountains were over two hundred miles south. It was an intimidating length to travel, especially since she had no car. Not even a skateboard. There were many ways to reach the mountains, but even if she did, the Slavers could be anywhere in those hills. It would be a wild goose chase. A ghost hunt.

And then there was the possibility that Elle would find the Slavers, but Jay, Georgia and Flash would already be dead. That was her worst fear. To go all that way… and be too late.

Stupid EMP. If I had a car, all of this time I would spend walking to the desert would be completely out of the picture.

Something hit Elle in the chest.

Her heart raced and she leaped to her feet, whipping the katana out of the scabbard. It slid out and flashed through the air. She held it steady, inches from Sienna’s pale face. The woman jumped backward and pointed at the floor, speechless.

Elle flicked her gaze down. A protein bar lay on the ground.

“For you,” Sienna whispered. “I thought you might be hungry.” She held out a plastic water bottle. “And thirsty.”

Elle’s paused, gripping the handle of the katana. She slowly lowered the sword. She didn’t know what to say. She’d expected an assassination attempt. Not food.

“Thanks,” she said quietly. And then, “Sorry.”

Sienna nodded, swallowing.

“If you… well, if you make it back alive,” she said, “well, make sure you’ve got better stuff to trade.”

Elle didn’t move.

“Okay.”

Sienna shivered, gesturing at the door. “Winter is coming,” she said. “You might not make it alive to San Jacinto.”

“I might not make it alive anywhere.”

“But two hundred miles or more. On foot. It’ll take weeks.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“You don’t have the supplies for it.”

Elle sat down, never taking her eyes off Sienna or Bob.

“What else have I got to live for?” Elle whispered under her breath.

If Sienna heard her, she said nothing.

“You can take what you need this time,” Sienna said. Elle looked up sharply. This woman was offering supplies for the journey?

Sienna nodded, walked to the back of the store, took a seat near Bob, and laid her shotgun across her lap. Elle stuck her hands in her pockets, her left hand closing around the handle of her Smith and Wesson. There were ten rounds in the chamber. A full magazine. The dull flicker of candlelight illuminated the walls.

Elle waited until Sienna was asleep, and then she made her move.

Elle moved silently. She stuffed her backpack with a pile of protein bars from the shelves, shoving as many water bottles as she could into the rest of the space. She took a box of Band-Aids and a small bottle of antiseptic. There was nothing else she needed. Nothing that she could find here, anyway.

She cinched her backpack tight around her shoulders.

She held her breath, pausing at corner of the general store. She felt a twinge of guilt. She was, after all, taking off into the night without saying goodbye. Elle curled her fingers into fists.

Why do I have to suddenly have a conscience about this?

Behind her, a row of glass-paneled refrigerator doors lined the wall. Elle bit her lip. Hmm. This might work. She dragged her finger through the thick layer of dust over each door, concentrating. She stood back and admired her handiwork.

HAD TO GO. TOOK SOME STUFF. WILL COME BACK WITH A PROPER TRADE FOR YOU AND BOB. I PROMISE.

– THE GIRL WITH THE SWORD

Yes. That was fine.

She glanced one more time at Bob and Sienna’s sleeping forms.

“See you,” she whispered.

She slipped through the hallway in the back of the building, pushing an emergency exit door open. The cold, biting air slapped her cheeks. She pulled her hood over her head and quietly shut the door. The flat landscape of the Central Valley lay around her. The safety of Sacramento was north. The warring gangland of Los Angeles was due south. And the Slavers… well, they were southeast, bringing their prisoners to the San Jacinto Mountains. Elle would have to travel through the smaller highways to reach the mountains. Her supplies wouldn’t last long. She would have to catch rainwater and eat whatever she could find; rats, lizards, bugs. She might perish in the desert. Her body might be left in the desolate wasteland, dissolving into the nothingness of the plain.

Elle sighed.

She knew what she had to do. It wasn’t going to be easy.

Chapter Four

The highway stretched on endlessly, curving southeast out of the Bakersfield area of California. What might have taken an hour to reach in a car would take an entire day on foot. The fog had finally lifted, and the golden brown of the grassy land was illuminated. Elle just stood there, in the center of the southbound lane of Highway 58, taking it all in.

It looks like velvet, she thought. Miles and miles of golden velvet.

It was beautiful, but daunting. The road was completely deserted. Unlike the roads in and out of Los Angeles, this highway was empty. There was no sea of cars, no evidence of catastrophic vehicle collisions. It was just… abandoned. It was wide and lonely. A strong, cold wind whipped across the valley floor and tossed Elle’s short black hair.

“It could be worse,” Elle muttered.

Elle tucked her head and began walking. It was a boring, monotonous march. The scenery was breathtaking. The rolling, golden mountains spread out in every direction, making Elle feel little more than an ant, a speck in the universe. The weather was clear and cool now, and the endless quiet and openness of the region seemed to make Elle’s thoughts echo loudly in her brain. She struggled to quiet her doubts and fears, so she began searching for patterns in the hills and pictures in the clouds to soothe her overactive mind.

The map that Sienna had given her was tucked firmly into the inside pocket of her jacket. She had memorized the route in case she lost it. Highway 58 to Highway 14, to Highway 215 to Highway 10. It was a convoluted route, one that she had mapped out in order to avoid traveling in the up-and-down, steep terrain of the mountains all the way to her destination. It was the easiest way. The entire journey would take about a week if she stayed on schedule.

What are you going to do when you actually find Jay and the others? She mused. You’re not dealing with the Klan anymore. The Slavers are an enemy that you’re unfamiliar with. Are you sure you want to risk your life like this? You could be on your way to Sacramento.

No. Elle had already decided what she was going to do. Life might have gone to hell in a handbasket since the EMP, but this… this gave her life some meaning. A purpose, she guessed. Something to do. More than just simple survival. Survival was a necessity. Everybody was surviving. But helping others? That was a rarity now. People just didn’t do it as much as they used to, because helping someone else meant risking your own life.

Elle kept walking.

Her steps were a rhythmic plod. She kept her head down, shielded from the harsh wind. She wished she had sunglasses. It would protect her eyes from the wide, sunny plain. But there was nowhere to get sunglasses… so she kept moving, tying a loose scarf from her backpack around her forehead and mouth, shading her face.

It struck her how empty the plain was. It scared her, too. She was a moving object on a still stage, prey for any hunter who was keeping his eyes open. She occasionally stopped and kneeled near the center guardrail, studying the road behind her and around her. She saw no one, so she would continue on.

The silence was eerie, too. Without Jay, Georgia or Flash chattering on about something in the background, the loneliness of the valley sunk in. It was different than Los Angeles. In the city, even the silence of abandonment was broken by the cries and fights of the Klan and Omega. Here… there was nothing. It was beautiful, but it was empty.

Elle shuddered.

And she kept walking.

“So, enlighten me, shadow warrior,” Georgia drawled, stopping to catch her breath. Her long, curly yellow hair bounced in the breeze. They were scaling the side of a small hill in the Tehachapi Mountains, escaping from Los Angeles. Heading toward Elle’s aunt and uncle’s ranch.

“Enlighten you about what?” Elle asked.

“How come you’re so mysterious. I mean, with the warrior mojo and all that.” Georgia wrinkled her nose. “Were you a doomsday prepper or something?”

“A prepper?” Elle laughed softly. “I wish.”

“But you handle yourself… well. Better than us. And we were street kids.” Georgia shrugged. “We all thought we were tough, you know? Me running drugs, Flash and Pix hacking credit cards, and Jay… well, we ended up doing time for it, so the universe killed us with karma, I guess. But still. All of this? It’s a new world. How come you adapted so fast?”

Elle looked ahead. Jay was farther up the side of the hill, in front of Flash and Pix, struggling along, panting and grunting.

“I guess I’m one of the lucky ones,” Elle deadpanned.

“You’re not lucky. You’re just cold.”

Elle stared at Georgia. The tall girl broke her gaze and nervously scratched the back of her neck. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she said.

“Yeah,” Elle replied, “you did.”

“Listen, Elle—”

“You’re not wrong, Georgia.” Elle frowned. “I know what I am. I’m okay with it.”

It was such a lie. She wasn’t okay with anything.

They were living after the apocalypse for God’s sake.

“So are you ever going to tell me what Jay’s story is?” Elle said, clearing her throat. “Or is it still a terrifying secret?”

Georgia cracked a wry grin.

“He’s a man of mystery,” she replied. “I should let him tell his own story.”

“He won’t talk.”

“You two are a match made in heaven.”

Elle rolled her eyes.

“I don’t like him, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

Elle’s cheeks warmed. “I actually kind of thought you guys were together.”

“Me and Jay?” Georgia smirked. “That will be the day, my little friend.”

“Ah.” Elle looked at Jay again. “But he likes you. I can tell.”

Georgia said nothing for a long time.

Then, “You think so?”

Elle smiled.

“Yeah. I think so.”

Many sour experiences with looters and vandals had taught Elle to stay away from abandoned rest stops. The general store in the valley with Sienna and Bob had been a freak thing. She hadn’t been thinking straight. She’d been starving and dehydrated. She blamed it on that.

Blame it on anything you want, she told herself. It was still stupid.

So Elle stood on the edge of a massive truck stop. How many idiotic gas stations was she going to have to look at now that Day Zero had destroyed the world? This one was unusually large. There were six rows of pumps and an oversized red barn, the general store. The windows had been broken out. The entire store had already been looted.

That’s when she saw the star.

It was gold, five-pointed and sloppy. It was spray painted on the ground, obnoxious. The color was bright, though. It was fresh. Very fresh. Elle bent down and touched it.

I don’t believe it, she thought.

They were marking their trail.

The yellow stars were the breadcrumbs and Elle was the bird.

She stood up. Had there been other stars that she had missed along the way, zoned out and glued to the monotony of putting one foot in front of the other? No. She would have noticed. She had been looking for a clue. Something.

Well. At least she knew Sienna had been telling the truth.

She was headed in the right direction.

Elle walked to the back of the barn gas station store. She stopped dead in her tracks. It was a graveyard. The plot was riddled with dozens of old graves, covered haphazardly with piles of dirt. Someone had made a crude wooden cross and forced it into the ground.

It was silent. Very, very silent.

Elle grabbed the side of the red barn. There was so much death here. Yet someone had gone to all the trouble to give the people who had died in this place a grave. Who would do that? Not the Slavers. Not Omega.

Maybe there was a militia in the area. A real militia.

A school bus sat behind the plot of dirt. It was streaked with dried blood. Windows were shattered and there were rows of bullet holes riddled throughout the side, making the name of the school illegible.

Elle shuddered.

She walked closer to the bus, taking each step with caution. The driver door was hanging open, broken. It had been forced. Elle took a step into the bus. She pulled her scarf over her nose and mouth, climbing up. She stopped at the front of the aisle. The seats were empty. There were no children, no bodies. Elle sighed, relieved. She walked down the aisle. There were random notebooks and pencils – even a computer tablet with a shattered screen. In the last row, she sat down.

For a split second, she imagined herself on a bus in Hollywood, on her way to Beverly Hills High School. Not that Elle’s mother would have ever allowed Elle to ride a bus – they’d had a private driver for that – but still. The image was normal. Something from the old world.

Something glinted out of the corner of Elle’s eye. She tensed and drew back. And then she laughed aloud. A pair of cheap aviator sunglasses lay on the floor.

She grinned and put them on.

How fortuitous. She walked out of the bus, back into the sunlight. The sunglasses were a little bent, but she didn’t care.

Ask and you shall receive. That’s what her mother had always said.

A toy-hauler trailer lay on its side beyond the bus, hidden behind a concrete garbage building. The truck itself was painted black, unmarked. The windshield on the truck hauling the trailer had been smashed open. It looked like it had been lying there since the EMP. Elle walked around the rear of the trailer. The rolling door had been forced open by someone, leaving a gaping hole. It looked dark inside. Elle squinted and walked closer, peering into the maw of the trailer. There were tires and mechanical parts. It smelled of old rubber and WD-40 inside.

Elle climbed into the trailer. It was cool, but she could clearly see the outline of boxes and tools. It looked like someone had rifled through the entire truck, taken what they needed, and then taken off. Had Omega done it? Probably not. Omega had no use for tools or supplies scavenged from a place like this. They had enough troops and weapons to take over the most powerful nation on Earth… they didn’t need to forage.

Elle walked to the back of the trailer, where it was darkest. There were piles of boxes here, most of them empty. And in the very back, just out of view, was what looked like a wheel. She wrapped her hands around the wheel and pulled. She managed to drag it forward a few inches. The seat was worn and torn, but still usable. It was painted white with strips of green on the sides. Elle pulled it out of the pile. She forced the kickstand down with her foot. She walked in a circle around the bike. It didn’t weigh much more than Elle, and it wasn’t much bigger than her, either.

She tapped the tires. They were solid.

The bike was in good condition. It had been shielded from the elements inside the truck, protected from rain and harsh sunlight. Elle wondered if this truck had been full of bikes when the EMP hit…

Elle looked around, hyperaware of her surroundings.

She knelt down and popped open the gas tank. She took a quick sniff. There was gas. How? She shook her head. A new dirt bike with a tank of gas was still no good to her in a post-EMP world. She paused, wondering… this truck had been sealed when the EMP hit, judging by the way the truck had slid off the road. It hadn’t been totaled until after Day Zero, in the chaotic aftermath of the electromagnetic pulse.

Elle wheeled the bike out of the truck, into the sunlight. She checked her surroundings again, stopping to listen for any unnatural sounds. There was nothing, so she continued.

She threw her leg over the seat of the bike. Living in Beverly Hills as a child, she hadn’t had any major experience riding bikes or ATVs, but she knew enough to start the bike. She flipped the ignition switch. There were no indicator lights, and it appeared to have a dead battery. Elle bit her lip. She knew that with gas in the tank and an otherwise undamaged engine, she could roll-start the bike. She looked down, searching for the kick-start.

Nothing. She tried jamming her heel into the starter again. Again, nothing. She grappled with it several times, rolling the bike forward when the engine suddenly sputtered and roared to life, a fierce contrast to the unearthly silence of the truck stop. It smelled like gasoline.

Elle gripped the handles tightly. She leaned on her left leg, casting a final glance behind her. She snapped the throttle; the bike rumbled with power. She looked at the handlebars, puzzling out the different levers and gauges. It made little sense to her – but she was smart enough to figure out the basics.

She had only two theories as to how this bike had survived the EMP. One, it had been protected from the destructive electromagnetic wave while ensconced in the metal trailer or two, it was an old enough bike to forego an electronic starter. Probably the latter.

That would explain why it still works, she thought absently.

She shifted into first gear with her left foot, releasing the clutch. The bike leaped forward. Elle yelped, surprised. She let off the throttle and the bike slowed, puttering and spitting. She tested her weight on the bike again, getting a feel for it.

She twisted the throttle again, wobbling onto the road. Elle leaned forward, into the wind. She accelerated quickly as she shifted gears, dizzy with the speed. The rush of moving so quickly was just as exciting as it was terrifying.

She kept her body low, pressed close against the bike. The road became a blur of black pavement below her feet as the highway opened before her, clear and wide. She kept a firm grip on the handles, not wanting to lose control. Her balance was good, but she was unfamiliar with the finer points of handling the bike.

A bolt of excitement shot through her.

She was moving so fast. She could cover a massive amount of distance on this thing. She glanced at the speedometer. 45, 55… 60 miles per hour! It seemed incredible after spending days walking hundreds of miles.

Elle smiled and whooped loudly.

Below her, the bike purred and whisked her along the highway.