by T. K. Malone
“Gave up?”
“Do you really think he needed to stay in the city? Why didn’t he just smuggle you out when your old mother died? Questions; they’ve been plaguing me for years. What is your brother up to?”
Connor’s heart leapt. “Is? You saying Zac’s alive?”
Grimes’s deep-throated laugh rang out, and Connor looked around for the others, now feeling alone and nervous, but everyone else had gone ahead. When he looked back at Grimes, it was to see that the laughter had vanished from the man’s face, a stern yet bemused expression having replaced it. “Of course he’s alive—he’s too invested in your future to be dead. Dead? Zac? He wouldn’t give me that. Nope, you Clays are hard to kill—have a habit of surviving. So, I’m now asking myself the question ‘Should I just kill you now?’.”
“But…”
“Oh, I know what you’re thinking. Your thinking that I’m…that me and my gang are affiliated with Zac on account of the fact we smuggled goods in and out of the city, on account of the fact that we’re members of the same motorcycle club, but let me tell you, we aren’t any longer. Your brother is Citizen now, whatever the fuck that means, so I owe him shit.”
“He’ll find out. He’ll hunt you down,” was all Connor could think to say, his mind still reeling from the news that Zac was still alive.
Grimes’ laugh dribbled out, somehow empty, somehow sinister. “Oh, I’ll count on that, and fearsome he’ll be, as well, but one thing’s for sure: with you gone, he won’t have the heart for a fight.”
Connor weighed up his options, but they didn’t look good. What if he just ran?
“Are you weighing up your odds?” Grimes asked, clearly amused. He took a step toward Connor as he cocked the trigger of his gun. “Well, you just made up my mind for me.”
Connor’s mind raced, too desperate to be of much use, the more so when it became clear how much hatred boiled within Grimes’ now narrowed eyes.
“I fucking hate Clays,” Grimes said, and Connor shut his eyes just before the loud bang rang in his ears.
12
Zac’s Story
Strike time: plus 7 days
Location: The road to the hills
Zac pulled up and looked up at the sky again, his hand on his shotgun, ready to pull it from its improvised holster. The previous day’s cloudy sky had given way to one of gray streaks, though a mist-like shroud still lingered over Black City’s ruins. He wondered if Switch was dead yet, if he’d found a way to die—a sharp metal shard to carve his wrists, a stray reinforcing bar upon which to impale himself—or was just sitting around, waiting. Zac had played it over and over in his mind but could fathom no way out for Switch, no subterfuge that would work for him. What he’d failed to pick up on was the man’s fragility, his eagerness to die.
Switch hadn’t been Switch, not the man Zac had known. He’d been quiet, reclusive, and Zac had been suspicious of that, taking it as collusion with his father, not confusion at his whole purpose in life. Yet try as he might to shoulder the blame for the man’s death, it all came back to Josiah Charm. Had Charm planned for every eventuality, then? Surely, Zac thought, he could have planned one where no one had to die. Surely that would have only taken a little bit more thought, a small tinker here and there?
“Still beating yourself up?” Billy Flynn asked, putting his hand on Zac’s shoulder and looking over the ruins of the city. “Not your fault, Zac.”
“Something’s up, Billy.”
“There’s plenty up, in case you haven’t noticed—plenty.”
“Drones, Billy? Where are all the drones?”
Billy scanned above the city and along the coast, then inland from Christmas to where Morton Deep still smoked. His gaze then wandered to the main valley, the huge arterial canyon into which all the others drained. Still farther he looked, and farther still, beyond these visible features to one which couldn’t be seen from where they were, one which cut through the land to where they were destined to travel, the one Laura would soon be taking them to.
“The sky’s totally clear. Not even a bird,” Billy stated.
“And therein lies the problem, Billy.”
“How come?” and Billy kicked at the dirt at his feet.
“We’re assuming the army torched Morton and Aldertown two days ago—but we don’t know why. So, where are their helos? Where are their drones?” He leaned forward on the handlebars of his bike. “First rule of war, Billy: control the skies.”
Zac reached into his jacket and pulled out his smokes, lighting one as he looked back along the road. “Where are Loser and Laura?”
“They’ll be along soon. Probably still loading the gas and the guns.”
“A great combination to transport in one truck,” Zac muttered.
“But,” and Billy winked at Zac, “the future currency of the world. You trust her? Laura? You trust her, then?”
Zac looked up. “Ain’t got no choice, Billy.”
“But you like her, right? Heard you both talking late into the night. Not serious chat, either—you were talking shit, kinda shit you talk with me, kinda shit good friends talk about.”
“Sure, I like her—what’s not to like?”
“I see you there, Zac.”
Zac took a toke on his smoke. “So, what’re you worried about?”
“Me?” Billy said, pointing at himself. “I ain’t worried about anything, just got me to wondering what’d happen if Switch was right.”
“About what?”
“About Teah being alive.”
If there was one person apart from Connor who Zac couldn’t lie to about this, it was Billy Flynn. The big man had seen Zac fall in love, had seen what their relationship had been like, how intense, how quick the passion had blossomed.
“She bolted, Billy. If she was alive, she still bolted.”
“What if she had good reason?”
Zac shook his head. “No, no, no, don’t even go there. Good reason? Good reason to escape the city? Then why didn’t she come to me? Why didn’t she come to the one person who could have smuggled her out, who’d got connections out here? Tell me that, Billy.”
From Billy’s look, Zac knew he had him. If she was going to make a life out in the hills, then surely Zac, her own lover, would have been the one to have confided in? That was what Zac couldn’t work out, or rather, didn’t like the result when he did.
“Only one conclusion, Billy, and that’s one I don’t care to think about.”
“Yeah.”
“She wanted to escape from me as much as she did the city.” Zac looked back down the freeway. Loser’s truck, flanked by Noodle and Laura, was speeding toward them. “And you know what, Billy?”
“Shoot.”
“I think I’m finally getting over her.”
“Amen to that.”
“Still don’t solve the drones, though.”
“Nope.”
Noodle skidded to a halt. “No drones, then?” he said. “Army must be busy with something else.”
“You asshole, Noodle,” said Zac.
“What?”
“Zac’s just spent the last twenty minutes trying to work out why,” Billy crowed.
“And for that I’m the asshole?” Noodle pointed to himself as he made injured puppy-dog faces. “Can’t help it if Zac got the looks… Na, can’t help it if I got the looks and the brains.”
“Noodle, I swear…” But Zac was grinning.
“Swear what? You gonna walk away and form another club?”
Billy was laughing as Laura pulled up and asked “What?” Loser’s truck coming to a stop behind her. “I suppose I’ve missed out on something, as usual.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Zac said, now shadowboxing with Noodle. But then he stopped and looked at Laura. “So, where next?” He realized his melancholy mood of only a few minutes before had been swept away by Noodle.
“Up that valley,” she said, pointing.
Zac nodded, already knowing the answer but not wanting
to believe it. Even as a smuggling route into Morton, the mouth of the valley had always been difficult to get through. Up until now, though, that hadn’t been Zac’s problem. He’d taken enough risks of his own, smuggling the contraband to his bar and then from there out into the city. Outside its limits had been Grimes’ problem, made worse now by it being way too close to the army base.
“Need to go the old route,” said Loser.
“Old route?” Zac said.
“Weren’t all freeways and interstates, you know. Old roads, old routes, all up here,” and he tapped his temple.
“Looks like you’re leading the way, then, Loser.”
“Yes, boss,” and he gave Zac a rare smile as he leaned out the truck’s window, his smoke dangling from the edge of his mouth. “Your folks,” he addressed to Laura, “they live in the woods over the hill?”
“Sure do,” she said.
“Then I know the way there. Now, one thing if I may, Zac?”
Zac shrugged. “Go for your life.”
“There’s a whole load of gasoline in the back of this truck, and ammunition—a load of that, too. If—and I’m a-hoping we don’t—but if we have a firefight at any point, I want to make something plain.”
“Could you hurry it along, Loser,” said Noodle.
Loser shot him a look. “You wanna drive?”
“That mobile bomb? No thanks.”
“Then shut up.” He turned back to Zac. “I’ll jump, no matter the speed. I’ll jump right outta this cab and let the whole lot go to hell in a handcart.”
“That it?” Zac asked.
“Just saying. I can be a hero as much as the next man, but I ain’t gonna be a dead one.”
“Okay, so, I’ve got it.”
“Did you know my father?” Laura asked, but her words were lost to the sound of Loser revving the truck’s engine and drawing away.
“Looks that way,” Noodle said to her before he rode away.
Zac shrugged. “After you.”
“What the hell have I let myself in for,” she said, and she, too, roared off.
As Zac was about to follow, he assured Billy, “Yeah, I’m over Teah,” and then he grabbed a handful of revs and dropped his bike’s clutch, leaving Billy in his dusty wake.
Loser drove along the freeway, passing the off ramp that would have taken them straight into the valley’s mouth. He took the next—but much smaller one—that ended at a weed-infested junction, across which he led them onto a single highway which appeared to vanish into the redwoods after no more than a few hundred yards. Zac felt more settled the minute they were within their emerald shade, taking a long breath and settling into his saddle for the ride.
Rich and root-strewn earthen banks soon flanked the road, the roots here emboldened enough by its little use to have begun burrowing through its blacktop, no doubt seeking out its drains and gulleys. Moss laced it too, especially in the dips where the rain tended to pool. Loser was taking it slow and easy, not surprisingly given his cargo, but Zac didn’t mind. Downtime had again become precious, a thing to be cherished. For years he’d had so much of it, with little to do but drink once the smuggling was done, and drunk he had, drunk and wished away the hours. In the space of a few short days that had all changed. He took a deep breath of the heavy, moist air.
The mighty redwoods rose majestically on either side, thoughts of drones and helicopters withering under their calming influence. Within the hour, though, they’d left all this behind after Loser took a fork in the road and began the climb up the slope of the valley, toward their destination. After another hour, he pulled the truck off the road into a small grass clearing scattered with piles of old asphalt. Getting out of the truck, Loser stretched and leaned up against its side.
“Man,” he said, “my ass is cramped up. Driving ‘round with a bomb in the back sure makes you crimp.”
“Crimp?” said Noodle. “Crimp? Who the hell says crimp?”
“Crimp, clench, all much the same, Noodle. I already offered you a try.”
“And I already declined.” Noodle scratched his head. “I think there might be something wrong with my bike, so I gotta listen to it mighty close. Otherwise I would.”
“You’re full of shit, Noodle,” said Billy.
“But loveable,” he countered.
“How long we got till we get to the place?” Zac asked.
“’Bout an hour or so; should make it late afternoon,” Loser told him.
Laura looked over. “You know my father?” she asked again.
Loser looked across at her, staring for a short while before answering. “Sure I know him. Knew both him and your mother; I lived up there for a while—with my father—before we were booted out. Suppose I was ‘bout ten when we left, when your dad lived in the big cabin.”
“When he was still living with my mother?”
“Don’t know about that, I was young at the time—like I said. Anyway, when I came back and they started ordering from the club, well, made sense for me to start delivering. Seemed the logical choice, seeing as I knew where they lived, and they weren’t eager for folk to know that.”
“Weren’t eager?” Laura asked, getting off her bike and coming over to him.
“Nope, first shipment was dropped right back at the junction with the freeway, booze mostly and some smokes.”
“When did they start trusting you?”
“Right then, right there. I hollered out to him—your father—and he recognized me, so we did the deal and I essentially became the go-between.”
Zac thought back but couldn’t remember ever seeing Loser in the tunnels or in the warehouses. What had Noodle told him? That Loser had come down from the north ten years or so ago—that magical number of years which kept cropping up.
“So, they liked booze and smokes,” said Noodle. “So what?”
Loser tilted his head up, “Weren’t just booze and smokes, Noodle. You know that.”
Noodle’s jaw dropped open. “Fuck me, you’re right.”
“What?” asked Zac, flicking Billy a glance that was met with nothing more than a shrug.
Noodle managed to speak through his now slack jaw. “All the crates Charm sent out, Loser took them all away.”
Loser smiled. “And the booze, and the smokes.”
Zac scratched his head. “Are you telling me that every crate we smuggled out of Black City ended up going exactly where Charm is sending us?”
“Kind of makes sense, Zac,” said Billy.
“What does?”
“That it ain’t just some random place.”
“What was in those crates?”
“Beats me. I just shifted them up here, that was all.”
Zac looked at Laura. “You? Do you know? Come on, someone throw me a bone here.”
“No bones,” Laura said, walking back to her bike. “When my mother and father split, I went back to Christmas with her—and that was a long time ago. I only lived there until I was eight or nine. Visited a lot; read the books; even began staying over and studying. My grandfather loved to teach, Zac, but he rarely discussed anything he was working on.”
Loser pushed himself off the truck and made to climb back into its cab, but then hesitated and stared at Laura. “We must have just missed each other back then. Must have just missed each other, eh?”
“Where’d you go to, then, Loser?”
By now Loser was in the cab. “Oh, the damn army swept me up and made me the man I am.” He gunned the engine and pulled away.
“Not sure,” said Noodle as he swung his leg over his bike. “Not sure if I’m any the wiser for that little exchange.”
“True that,” muttered Billy Flynn, and Zac knew exactly what they were both talking about.
Once they’d all got going again, Zac rode a little way behind the others, trying to collect his thoughts. What little he’d gathered was that Laura had once lived in the cabin with her mother, father and grandfather, but had left when her parents had split. That bit seemed t
o make sense. Then she’d visited, as estranged children often did, and been taught a bit about chemistry—all straightforward enough.
Loser had lived there as a child, and then he hadn’t when he’d been press-ganged into the army, where he’d stayed until ten years ago—about the time Zac’s father had been arrested, whereupon Loser had appeared on the scene. Straightforward, too, he thought. But somehow he and Laura had missed ever seeing each other. Technically okay, but one hell of a coincidence, but then there was the small matter of the other coincidence. Loser had returned in exactly the same year Zac had forged the bargain with Charm to transport goods out of the city, and who just happened to know the very folk the crates were destined for.
It was that which was a step too far for Zac, far too far.
The road began to climb more steeply as dusk ambled toward them, and as they followed turn after turn, but they never reached a peak. What they got to was more of a ridge, from the brow of which they began to descend a short way toward a plateau set within the confines of the mountains’ sequoia-covered slopes, so it looked like the broad base of a shallow green bowl. At its center of rich grassland lay a lake of shimmering blue water. Although, strangely, there was no sign of any cabin, Zac felt they must now be getting pretty near.
Before they reached the grasslands, though, they descended back beneath the trees of the forested slope, Zac soon sensing that something had changed. The road, certainly, had narrowed, but somehow not naturally. Indeed, fallen trunks now lined it, forcing Loser to slow the truck as he tried to navigate his way between them. A closer look at the fallen trees led Zac to believe they’d been felled on purpose, by which time Loser had slowed even further. Zac reached down for his holstered shotgun, easing back the throttle and drawing Billy aside. The big man was already nodding. He pointed up the hill at something, then Zac noticed camouflage webbing strung between the trees.
