Текст книги "Day One"

Автор книги: Summer Lane

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Chapter Five

Elle was a lone figure against the desert plain. She stood and looked at the dirt bike, leaning on its stand in the middle of the empty highway. It had run out of gas an hour ago. A bitter sweep of cold wind stung her cheeks, blowing dust across the road. Elle tightened her fingers into fists. There hadn’t been any cars for miles, nothing to siphon gas from.

Well. She had no more fuel. She had taken the bike as far as she could.

“Thanks for the memories,” she muttered.

It was late evening. Temperatures were dropping. Elle tucked her head between her shoulders and walked against the wind.

The Mojave Desert. A barren, desolate wasteland in this post-apocalyptic world. It seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction, broken only by the occasional highway marker and bouncing tumbleweed. The sky was incredibly clear. As the sun set, the stars came into view. She could see the Milky Way and the Big Dipper. Bigger constellations that she couldn’t name swirled above her head. She felt like a speck in a snow globe, exposed and tiny.

As the night wore on, a thin layer of ice crusted over the top of the road. Elle’s fingers froze. Her face was numb. Bits of ice stuck to her eyelashes. She was bundled up in her jacket, wrapped in layers of clothing. It was barely enough to keep the cold at bay.

Up ahead, she could make out the shape of bushes near the side of the highway. She approached it, slowly. It was a small clump of brush. She kicked it, ready for something – maybe an animal – to come running out. There was nothing. She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled into the middle of the brush. It was itchy and sharp. Branches scraped against her face. She pulled her hood tighter and shoved her hands in her pockets. She unzipped her pack.

There was a wool blanket rolled up. It was one of the heavier items that she had been lugging around. Many times she had almost discarded it because of the inconvenience, but tonight she was thankful for it. She wrapped it around herself and slapped her backpack on the ground, using it as a pillow.

She closed her eyes and tried to rest.

Morning came quickly. Elle snapped awake. Her lips were stiff, her joints were frozen. She stretched out her fingers and sat up. The brush was dusted with frost. The sun was rising in the east, behind the distant Tehachapi Mountains. It’s a beautiful scene, Elle thought. But it would be even more beautiful if she weren’t so cold.

She rifled through her supplies, staying inside the mediocre warmth of the shrubbery. She took a quick drink of water, ate an energy bar, and closed her backpack. Time to go. She took comfort in the fact that she had enough food to last for at least two weeks before she would need to hunt or scavenge – but only if she was wise, eating only as needed, not as wanted.

She crawled out of the brush and stood up, taking the sunglasses out of her pocket. She glanced at the map that Sienna had given her. She was following Highway 14. She had cut off a huge chunk of her journey by utilizing the dirt bike, but she still had another one hundred and seventy miles to go. It would take her four or five days on foot, she estimated.

A long time.

The sun rose, shedding a little bit of warmth on the desert. The highway began to curve. On the right side of the road, a sign read:

ROSAMOND: EDWARDS AIR FORCE BASE.

Elle pulled out her map. She found Rosamond and touched it with her finger. It was a little town, halfway across the desert. It was near Edwards Air Force Base. Elle didn’t think that there was any United States Military left there, and she didn’t want to risk finding out if Omega had taken over the base.

She would follow the highway through the city. It was the fastest route, and she doubted that a city in the middle of the desert would be populated with dangerous gangs like the Klan.

Elle passed the green directional sign. She glanced behind her shoulder and stopped. There was a gold star painted on the back of the sign.

Another breadcrumb, Elle thought.

She quickened her pace, encouraged. At least she knew she was heading in the right direction. This was good news. As she moved, she noticed a faint scent in the wind. It smelled like smoke from a fire. She took another sniff. Yes, it was definitely smoke.

Elle cautiously moved forward. The smoke was being carried toward her. That could only mean that it was coming from the city of Rosamond. She rounded the curve in the highway. The small town was little more than a collection of square buildings, a sore thumb against the sweeping flatness of the desert. The highway ran straight through the center.

In the middle of the road, piles of rusty vehicles were on fire. The flames leaped high into the air. Black, acrid smoke billowed into the sky. Shadowy figures moved around the outside of the burning vehicles. Elle’s heart dropped to her stomach as she retreated back around the curve of the highway. What are they? Elle thought. Slavers? Gang members? Omega?

She didn’t know. Definitely didn’t want to find out.

Elle dropped behind cover and pulled out her map. There had to be a way that she could bypass the city without being seen by whatever psychopaths were burning cars in the middle of the street.

She traced her finger along the highway. She could walk around the west side of the city. It would cost her an extra three miles, but it would be safer than risking running into murdering thugs. She had a katana and a gun, but she was only one girl. It was better to play it safe.

She folded the map.

She would take the detour.

“Honey, don’t forget your backpack,” Mom said.

It was early morning. The first day of school. Elle was a sophomore today. She grabbed her backpack, sitting on the dining room table. Their apartment was perfectly clean, perfectly organized. White walls and shelves, framed pictures of modern art and stacks of historical books on the coffee table.

“Will Samuel drive me to school every day again this year?” Elle asked, lacing her sneakers. She was fifteen, small for her age. Her hair was black, short. Her skin was pale. “Because it’s kind of embarrassing, mom. The other kids’ parents actually drop them off.”

She looked pointedly at her mother.

“You know I don’t do that,” Mom replied. “Quit complaining. You should be thankful to have a driver. Not everyone is so privileged.”

“Or spoiled,” Elle murmured. She swung her backpack over her shoulder. “I’ve got gymnastics after school today.”

“Don’t be late.”

“I won’t. I’ve got Samuel to drive me.”

Mom stepped out of the kitchen, dressed in a pristine, all-white business suit. Her jet-black hair was slicked into a tight bun.

“You know, Elle, this could be a good year for us.”

“How so?”

“Well, Jerry called me. He said I’ve got an audition for that new television show I’ve been talking about.”

Elle bit her lip. Her mother was an aspiring actress. Her father was a wealthy celebrity lawyer. And Elle… well, she was just herself. A busy but lonely child being shuttled from school, to tutors, and to her mother’s acting auditions. Her older brother, Johnny, had taken the rebellious route – he was currently doing time for drunk driving.

Elle was the youngest child. The quiet one. The one who had to be driven to school every day by a private driver in a Mercedes. All paid for, compliments of her wealthy father, a man who was only sometimes home.

“I hope you get it,” Elle said, forcing a smile. “When’s the audition?”

“Next week. If I get the part, the show starts filming in January.”

“Cool.” Elle’s cellphone buzzed. It was Samuel. “I gotta go, Mom.”

“Have a good day.”

“You too.”

Elle left the house, casting a final glance at her mother. She was still standing in the kitchen, staring out the window, holding a cup of coffee in her hands. It stung, seeing her like that. Lately, Mom had been tense and distant. It was Dad’s fault. There were times when he would be home for a month – and then he would be gone for two. Where he was exactly, Elle wasn’t sure.

But she was pretty positive it wasn’t good.

He gave Mom money to live comfortably – very comfortably – showing up just enough to keep her happy. Elle was an afterthought. She didn’t have much love for her father. She was protective of her mother and sympathetic to her troubled brother.

But outside of that, she was alone.

Surrounded by people, but completely alone.

The wind whistled through the ghost town. Elle stared at it, a chill crawling up her spine. A collection of old wooden buildings stood against the backdrop of the desert hills. Most of the glass was missing from the windows. Dirt roads curved between the buildings. It was silent and eerie.

Elle approached the first building on the hill. It was falling apart. Boards had rotted on the front porch. The glass in all of the windows was gone. Weeds grew through the floorboards.

Some of the buildings farther up ahead were made of metal, now rusty shades of brown and gray. Elle walked past the first building. She’d bypassed the city of Rosamond, avoiding the looters in the streets. And now she was here, exploring the remains of a ghost town.

The roofs on almost all of the buildings had caved in. What looked like water tanks were placed throughout the little town, rusted and empty. On the outskirts of the road, piles of wood and twisted metal laid in random heaps. Wooden tracks had been cast aside, along with metal carts and the remains of pickaxes.

This was a mining town, Elle realized. No wonder it looks so old.

She looked at her map, but she couldn’t find any indication of a mining town marked there. It was probably one of those off-the-radar tourist traps before the EMP. Somewhere that was supposedly haunted and people sat in their cars for hours, hoping to get a glimpse of a ghost and post a picture to their social media feeds.

Elle was so beside herself that she laughed.

Things used to be so simple.

She kept walking, scoping out the town. Maybe she could find a place to stay the night. The houses were old, but it was better than sleeping in a bush. It would be warmer and safer.

Elle looked ahead and stopped dead in her tracks.

At the end of the road, just past a big metal building, was a dog. He was beautiful, silently standing there, watching Elle.

Elle didn’t move.

The dog didn’t move.

Elle took a deep breath. The dog cocked his head, tilted his ear. He was a German Shepherd, honey colored with swaths of black. And then he barked. It wasn’t an obnoxious bark, nor was it a warning bark. It was different.

Desperate, Elle thought.

He barked again, shaking his head and trotting back and forth on the road. He wasn’t growling. Just talking. Elle moved closer and he became more excited. She kept her right arm held straight out, but her left was within easy reach of the katana strapped across her back, beneath her pack.

Just in case.

As she got closer, the dog backed up, barking again. Elle raised an eyebrow, hesitant. What if this was a trap? The dog looked healthy, well-fed. Somebody had to be taking care of him.

She paused and drew the Smith and Wesson from the belt on her waist. The dog watched her, wary, but continued to back up. She kept the gun in plain sight, snapped the safety off. She didn’t want to be caught with her guard down.

The dog kept moving around the edge of the metal building. Elle followed. The dog stopped in front of the steps of one of the older mining houses. The roof was still intact, but the rest of the edifice was in shambles.

The dog climbed the steps and paused at the door, whining softly. Elle’s heart sped up, hammering against her rib cage. What was he trying to tell her? Was she walking straight into a death trap?

“What is it, boy?” Elle asked.

The dog’s whine became more intense, more desperate.

What the hell, Elle thought. Might as well.

She climbed the steps and followed the dog through the open doorway. The house creaked under her footsteps. It was a single-room cabin. The windows were missing. Pieces of the wall had rotted away. It smelled like mildew… and blood.

Elle looked at the dog, sitting silently in the corner, beside a still human form. She gripped her gun and held it defensively, forcing herself to breathe evenly.

“Who are you?” she said, her voice raspy.

No answer. She took a step closer. The dog whined again.

She lowered the gun and walked toward the figure, cautiously touching his leg with the toe of her shoe. Nothing. Her eyes adjusted to the shadowy interior of the building, and she could see the man clearly. He was wearing black combat fatigues and a white shirt. The shirt was stained with blood. He lay on his back, sweat running down his misshapen, swollen face. His chest barely moved with each labored breath.

“Hello?” Elle said. Her hand hovered just above her head, within reach of the katana handle. “Are you okay?”

The man coughed. He turned his head. Elle braced herself for an attack, but it never came.

“Ah, Bravo,” he sighed. “Good boy.”

Elle blinked.

“Sorry,” he said. His voice was strained. “My dog is intent on helping me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The man shifted, groaned softly, and returned to his original position. “So. Are you friend or foe, kid?”

Elle raised an eyebrow.

“I could ask you the same question,” she replied.

“Fair enough.”

“You got a name or what?” Elle asked.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” The young man winced and leaned his head against the wall, sweat slipping down his face. “Ladies first.”

The dog stood near his feet, tense.

“I’m Elle,” she said at last, standing her ground.

“Nathan.”

“Nathan?” She shrugged. “You don’t look so good.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been shot about nine times. That should do it.”

Elle shook her head.

“How’d that happen?” she asked.

“Omega,” he replied, wincing again. “They’ve got a nasty bite.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen it.” Elle took a step closer. The dog lowered his head, growling softly. “Hey, your dog looks like he wants to eat me.”

“He probably does.” Nathan waved his hand. “Down, Bravo. Relax.”

The dog pulled back a little, taking a defensive stance between Nathan and Elle. Nathan’s clothes were soaked in blood. His hands were slick in the stuff. It ran down his arms and pooled on the floor.

“I can help you,” Elle stated. “You can’t do this yourself.”

Nathan took several great, heaving breaths and dropped his arms.

“I could,” he said, cracking a tired smiled. “But I’d probably screw it up.”

“You can trust me,” Elle replied.

She heard the tinny irony in her voice. Trust. What a false word.

“Really,” Elle said. “I promise I won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt me.” Bravo growled. “And if your dog doesn’t eat me.”

Nathan laughed, then stopped.

“Okay,” he rasped. “It’s a deal.”

Elle dropped to one knee and rummaged through her pack. She pulled out her medical kit and walked to Nathan, kneeling next to his trembling form. He was wearing an armor-plated vest, but that hadn’t saved him from the onslaught that had wounded him.

“What happened?” Elle asked again.

She pulled the Velcro apart on the vest. Nathan gritted his teeth. She undid the straps as best she could and pulled the vest over his head. There were bloody bullet holes in his shirt, two near his left armpit and one near his right.

“You weren’t shot nine times,” Elle said, forcing a grin. “Just three.”

“Yeah. But there was… an explosion.” He exhaled. “Sent me flying.”

“Are you with the militias?” Elle asked.

“Technically, yes,” he replied. “I was on a routine patrol with my men. Bravo and I were checking out an abandoned FEMA camp about forty or so miles from here. We came under heavy fire. I lost all my men. Bravo and I escaped…” He laughed harshly. “We’re as good as dead now.”

“You’re going to be fine,” Elle lied.

She pulled back the layers of his jacket and shirt. Pieces of glass and twisted metal had burrowed deep into his chest, embedded in his skin. The bullets were still inside him. She bit her lip – she had no way to remove the shrapnel, no tools with which she could pull the bullets out.

Just do your best, she told herself. That’s all you can do, anyway.

Elle took a cloth from her backpack and poured some water on it, swabbing the open wounds, cleaning them with alcohol. Nathan swore under his breath.

“So it was Omega?” Elle asked, attempting to distract him from the pain.

“Omega mercenaries,” Nathan corrected, huffing. “Hired hit men. Those suckers are dangerous. They come in from all over the world, and they’re brutal as hell. They don’t fight like we do.”

Elle nodded. She understood that. In Los Angeles, the Klan was a warring faction of uncivilized anarchists, thirsty for blood and desperate for survival. The apocalyptic environment drove them to archaic measures. They had no sense of right or wrong, no code of conduct. There was no such thing as fighting fair.

Brutality ruled everything, especially war.

“Are you sure they were mercenaries?” Elle asked.

“Pretty sure, why?”

“I’m tracking a bunch of Slavers into the mountains,” she answered. “They took my friends. They disguise themselves as rogue militias and pick up civilians. Sell them into slavery, I guess.”

“We’ve heard of the Slavers,” Nathan replied, groaning as Elle swabbed antiseptic over the deeper wounds. It was several minutes before he could talk again. The dog, Bravo, stood there the whole time, watching Elle with dark, intelligent eyes.

“The real militias and the National Guard have had more to worry about than them,” he said at last. “One of these days we’ll take our men up there and wipe them out.”

“Sooner rather than later would be good,” Elle remarked.

“So they took your friends?”

“Killed one. Took three.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Welcome to the apocalypse.”

She finished cleaning the wounds, wrapping some of the worse ones in bandages. There was nothing else that she could do. He couldn’t move and there was no one else to help.

“I’ve done what I can,” she replied. “You should just stay here and rest.”

“It’s not like I can leave.” Nathan looked at Elle. “Thank you.”

Elle shrugged.

She took a water bottle from her pack and offered it to Nathan. He drank.

“So,” Elle said, sighing. “Did you become a soldier before or after Day Zero?”

“Day Zero?”

“The EMP. The invasion.”

“Ah.” Nathan coughed. “Before. I was a Marine. Overseas.” He barely managed to lift his shoulders. “Seemed the like the right thing to keep on fighting after everything went to hell here at home.”

“The whole world’s gone to hell,” Elle said, nonchalant.

“Nah, not all of it. There are people like me.” Nathan offered a broken smile. “We still believe that we can fight this thing. We keep hell from taking too much of a hold.”

“Maybe.” Elle raised an eyebrow. “How did you end up here?”

“Walked as far as I could,” he replied. “Finally collapsed in this house.”

“At least you made it to shelter.”

“Just in time to die,” Nathan said.

“You’re not going to die,” Elle replied automatically. “You’re going to be fine and—”

“Elle.” Nathan held up his hand. “I’m dying.”

Elle said nothing.

Nathan nodded at Bravo.

“This is Bravo,” he said. “But you already knew that. He’s my buddy, my brother.” He held out his hand, barely able to raise it without crumpling with pain. Bravo softly nuzzled his fingers. “Bravo is a Grade-A bomb dog. He’s been on one tour in Iraq, been trained by the best in the world. He knows his stuff.”

There was a long silence. Nathan struggled to take deep breaths. Elle guessed that one of his lungs had collapsed, judging by the way the shrapnel had hit his ribcage, digging into his side.

“Bravo is loyal to a fault,” Nathan continued. His eyes became clouded with tears. “He would die for his brothers and sisters.”

“I know,” Elle whispered. “I can see it in his eyes.”

Nathan nodded.

“Have you ever seen a bomb dog in action, Elle?” he asked quietly.

“No.”

“Let me show you.” Nathan flicked his wrist forward. “Bravo, search.” It was a stern but familiar command to the dog. He dutifully sniffed the room, as if knowing that he was doing this to comfort his dying master rather than actually looking for explosives.

He returned to Nathan’s outstretched hand.

“Usually this is the part where I hand him his favorite toy,” he said. “But I lost it when the mercenaries attacked us. Bravo likes to be rewarded at the end of a good job.” He coughed, spitting up blood. Elle hurried to wipe it up with the rag. Nathan pushed her arm away. “Forget it,” he heaved. “I’m a mess anyway.”

Elle returned to her spot on the floor.

“If Bravo ever finds explosives or something that he thinks is a potential threat,” Nathan explained, “you’ll know by the way he’ll go rigid. He’ll freeze, sit still. He’ll stare at the spot until you’ve checked it out. He’s got a highly trained nose.”

Nathan’s voice became softer and softer, dissolving into the stillness of the abandoned mining town. At last, he said, “Take care of my dog, Elle. He’s my brother.”

Elle nodded.

“And, Elle?”

She looked at him, briefly locking gazes.

“Don’t give up.”