A pall of despair settled over the Scorpion Canyon community in the wake of Cesar’s death. People who only days earlier had been ready and willing to take an active role in their survival were now backtracking, falling into old habits. There was even talk of leaving.
In hindsight, it all made perfect sense to Megan. Cesar had been the nexus of their community, the only one who fully understood their immediate needs while also looking days and weeks ahead to predict what was to come. Without him, they were adrift. She was lost. She had no idea how to pull things back together, to restore the nascent sense of hope crushed by his untimely death. And she didn’t have any time left to figure it out.
“Goddamn you, Cesar!” she cursed. “Why’d you have to go and die on me? Why now?”
A single tear escaped her eye, racing down her cheek and plopping on the center of the pages of Cesar’s notebook, which she had been reading. It clung there, glistening in the candle light, a shimmering convex lens magnifying his looping script. She had found the stack of notebooks beside his bed after leaving him in the desert. Inside were meticulous records and plans for the Scorpion Canyon community, ranging from supply inventories to hand-drawn maps of emergency escape routes through the Catalina Mountains and beyond. The notebooks were a treasure trove of unexpected information, and they made her miss Cesar all the more. Feeling frustrated and overwhelmed, she snapped the book shut and returned it to its place on top of the stack.
She got up, went to the door, unlocked it and pulled it open. A soft breeze pushed into the room, bringing with it the intoxicating aroma of creosote and sage. It had rained somewhere close by, she realized. She took a deep breath, drawing in the scent, savoring it. It allowed her to forget her troubles for just a moment. She loved so many things about the desert, but her favorite was the rain; the way the landscape sprang to life at the slightest hint of moisture, exploding into a kaleidoscope of exotic colors and smells, never ceased to amaze her.
A truck engine rumbled somewhere in the distance. It was drawing closer, the sound reverberating up the canyon. Megan tensed. The sun had gone down a half-hour ago. The noise would draw the undead like an army of ants to a pile of sugar. Headlights swept across the front of her building. The truck was just outside the main gate. She set off at a run, yelling at the top of her lungs for help.
The two men on guard duty were already hauling the rolling fence back by the time she arrived, making room for the rumbling vehicle to slip through.
“No! Wait!” she yelled.
The truck, an old blue Ford F-150 King-Cab, pulled into the compound, and the man at the wheel killed the engine.
“What the hell is going on out here?” Pringle asked. He ran up to the driver’s door and banged on the window, making motions for the man inside to roll it down. A second later, the driver’s door creaked open on dry hinges, and Megan saw two men inside, one older and one a teen. Damn it! I don’t need this now!
“You fool!” Pringle shouted. “Do you realize you just rang the dinner bell for every zombie within a five-mile radius?”
Megan put a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down, Mike. They didn’t know. We can deal with this.”
Pringle shook her off. “No, Megan. We can’t. These morons just killed us!”
“I’ve got it,” Kevin announced from her rear.
They turned in unison. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, don’t worry about it. I’ll go out and draw them away, and then I’ll loop back around once it’s quiet.”
Megan and Pringle exchanged a look of uncertainty. The damage was already done; that couldn’t hurt. “Do it,” she ordered.
She turned to the driver. “Mike is right. You’ve put us all at risk.”
The man opened his mouth to protest, but seemed to think better of it. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking. Can I do anything to help?”
Pringle shook his head in disgust. “No. You’ve done enough already.”
The driver was a big man, standing a little over six-feet-tall, with collar-length brown hair and a simple, open face. The other man was younger, much younger and Asian. He looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. He was slender, almost effeminate, yet something in his eyes disturbed her, put her on guard.
“Jack Wolfe,” the driver said, holding out his hand.
Megan shook it. “I’m Megan Pritchard. This is Mike Pringle.” She waved at the other people who had come outside to investigate. “And this is our camp.”
“This is Peter Woo,” Jack said, tossing his head at the young man in the passenger seat. “I picked him up on I-10 a few miles east of town.” Peter inclined his head and smiled, but didn’t say anything. Again, that bad feeling.
Kevin roared up on his motorcycle, stopping at the closed gate. The guards hustled over and hauled it open, and a moment later he vanished into the night.
Jack locked eyes with Megan. “Thanks.” He sighed. “I’ve been on the road for a long time…” Megan softened. These men were the first new arrivals in over two weeks. Showing anger was the wrong way to welcome them, even if they did almost bring a swarm with them.
A gun fired far in the distance, the pop pop pop the loudest sound for miles. Megan sucked in a breath. A few seconds later, a shrill horn blared loud and long, cutting through the night like a knife. Kevin. His engine noise wound up like an angry hornet, and then just as quickly faded away into the night as he led the zombies away.
Megan released the breath she had been holding. “I hope he’s okay…”
“Let’s get this truck out of the way,” Pringle said, shattering the moment. He gestured at Woo. “Get behind the wheel, kid. Put it in neutral.” Woo complied.
“You ready?” Pringle asked. He pointed to a spot on the east side of the ranger station. “We’re gonna push it over there, and we’re going to do it as quietly as possible.”
Jack shrugged. “Yeah. Sure.”
“I’ll help,” Megan said, slipping between the men at the tailgate. She sensed an unexpected hostility between them, and she wanted to get a handle on it before it manifested as something more overt. Once they got the truck in place, Woo climbed out. He was taller than Megan expected, almost as tall as Jack.
She turned to Pringle. “Where do you want to put them tonight?”
Pringle scratched his chin while he considered his response. “How about the main lobby? There’s room in the book section…”
“Is that okay with you guys?” Megan asked.
They looked at each other. Jack answered, “We’ll sleep wherever you put us.”
“Yeah,” Woo added.
Megan started tugging at the rope securing the tarp. “Okay, then…let’s get your stuff unloaded, and you can tell us your story—or not, if you’d rather rest up first.”
Jack yawned and looked at Woo. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather get some sleep. It’s been a rough couple of days…”
“Sure. That works.”
With that settled, they set to work unloading the truck.
Fire: The Collapse Page 28
