Jason Frost - Warlord 05 - Terminal Island

by Jason Frost - Warlord 05

  “Near Dirk Fallows’ camp?”

  “Who?” they both chorused.

  “Corporal Dirk Fallows.” Eric stepped closer to the cage. “He and his men are buying gold around here. I’m looking to peddle some.”

  Washington said, “Look, man, if it would help us any, I’d tell you about this Fallows. I’ll tell you everything from birthplace to shoe size. But the truth is, we don’t know the dude.”

  “Or anything about gold,” the petty officer said. “Why would anybody be buying gold here? Don’t make sense.”

  “Ours is not to reason why. Ours is just to make a profit.”

  Washington laughed. “He sounds like you, Bolinski.”

  Bolinski grinned wolfishly. “Yeah, well in Philly, ya gotta have a shark’s instincts just to make it to the corner schoolhouse alive.”

  Eric didn’t say anything for a while. He paced in front of their cage. He stopped in front of Bolinski, studying the huge muscular arms where his shirt was rolled up past the elbows. “You’re looking a little pale, Bolinski. Not getting much sun down south lately?”

  “Hey, pal, I looked a hell of a lot tanner before I got locked up in this brig.”

  “Yeah,” Monroe chuckled, “even my tan is fading.”

  Eric shrugged. “I’d like to help you boys, I really would. But unless you can tell me where I can find Fallows, I can’t do a thing. Take it easy, fellas.” He started to walk out of the room, followed closely by Dr. Chen.

  “Goddamn it, man, help us,” Bolinski bellowed. “It’s not our fault we don’t know no Colonel Fallows. We were just hunting for food for our families. Shit, that’s not a crime, even now.”

  Once outside, Eric pulled Dr. Chen aside. “What are you planning to do with them?”

  “Let them go, I guess. I just held them long enough to see if they had any friends following. Guess not.”

  “Hold onto them one more day. Okay?”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “Why? They’re taking up time and eating my food. They seem to be telling the truth. I’m sorry they don’t know this Fallows man, but you can’t punish them for that.”

  “Hold them,” Eric said. “They’re lying.”

  She shook her head. “I’m a pretty good judge of character, Mr. Ravensmith. I believe those two men. And since this is my compound, I’ll decide who to detain and who not to.”

  Eric released the safety on his crossbow and bumped the arrow-end against Dr. Chen’s chest. “If you’re such a good judge of character, why is my finger on this trigger. Less than a pound’s worth of pressure will make this zoo mine.”

  Dr. Chen did not back down. Her dark eyes bored into Eric’s. “I know you can kill, Mr. Ravensmith. I recognize the look. But I was hasty in my earlier condemnation, letting my grief for my father interfere with my judgment. Yes, you could kill me. But you won’t. I believe your young companion. You want to find your son. You won’t do that here.”

  Eric flicked the safety on and lowered the bow. “You don’t bluff so easily yourself, Doctor.”

  “Wendy,” she said with a relieved sigh. She offered her hand. Eric shook it. It was warm, the skin calloused from gardening.

  “Maybe you are right about me,” Eric said. “But you are wrong about them. They know something.”

  “Male intuition?” she smiled.

  “Evidence. You notice their uniforms? A little soiled, but no tears or serious wear. They’re fairly new.”

  “They could have had extra uniforms.”

  “Look how pale Bolinski is. People in California all have tans, only these days it’s not from lying around the beach or playing tennis. It’s from hunting or gardening or building. He’s too pale, and it’s not from natural skin pigmentation.”

  Dr. Chen started to offer an explanation, then stopped. “What else?”

  “I referred to Fallows as Corporal Fallows. Later Bolinski called him Colonel Fallows, which is correct.”

  Dr. Chen absently picked a lock of her straight black hair and began chewing on it. “What does that add up to?”

  “Unanswered questions. I intend to find out the answers tonight.”

  “How?”

  Eric’s smile was cold and flat. “You don’t want to know.”

  * * *

  11

  The rain came suddenly. At first it was a pounding rain, harsh and almost vengeful, but after an hour it calmed to a gentle pelting.

  “That’s the only blessing out of all this,” Wendy Chen said, staring out the window. “California finally gets enough rain. Something about the Halo, I suspect.”

  “At this rate,” Eric said, “within a year or two vegetation will have reclaimed most of the land.”

  “And insects,” D.B. complained, swatting at something flying around her face.

  Wendy pulled her hair back and tied a hunk of rope around it, forming a long black pony tail that hung down to her buttocks. “The point is, in a couple years, people will have to overcome whatever fears and differences they have to form little pocket societies, like the city-states of ancient Greece. The rest of the state will be a tropical jungle. That’s when I’ll release the animals.”

  Eric smiled. “Let them go forth, two by two, and be fruitful and multiply.”

  “Okay, maybe it sounds a trifle pretentious. But what’s wrong with a little Eden?”

  “Paradise regained?” Eric said. “It’s been tried.”

  “Not by me.” She pressed her hand against the window, watched the glass fog up around her warm flesh. “You’re probably right. It is crazy.”

  “But nice crazy,” D.B. said.

  Spock was in the corner of the room arranging thick shaggy rugs over a large tractor tire. He worked slowly, but meticulously, shifting and tugging the carpets until they were just right.

  “What’s he doing?” D.B. asked.

  “Making his bed. It’s his own design. He had a mattress once, but he tore it apart within an hour. Actually, that arrangement is remarkably comfortable.”

  “Yeah?” D.B. went over and stood next to Spock. “Mind if I try it out, Spock?”

  Spock looked at her, puzzled. Then he looked at Wendy. Wendy signed to him while talking to D.B. “I’m telling him you like his bed.”

  Spock signed back and Wendy and Eric laughed.

  “What’d he say?” D.B. asked.

  “He says it’s his bed,” Eric said. “And that you should go find your own.”

  D.B. poked Spock playfully. “You little punk.”

  “How sharper than a serpent’s tooth is an ungrateful ape,” Eric said.

  “You’ll find it’s not all games and tickling with Spock,” Wendy said. “He’s like a child, stubborn and petulant and moody. He requires an enormous amount of attention.”

  “Doesn’t he play with Madonna?” D.B. asked.

  “Oh yes. They play for hours. And the amazing thing is he has been teaching her Ameslan. He’s taught her seven signs outside those that I taught her. But he wants favorite-child status. Special privileges.”

  “What do you do then?”

  “The same as with any child. Discipline. Like now. He’s acting this way because we aren’t paying any attention to him. So we’ll leave. It’s time he got some sleep anyway.”

  Eric nodded. “It’s time we all got some sleep.”

  The three of them started for the door. Immediately, Spock plopped onto the floor and began making a mournful whoo-whoo sound.

  “What’s he doing?” D.B. asked.

  “Crying. Apes don’t shed tears.”

  The sound continued.

  “Aren’t you going to do something?”

  Wendy shook her head. “He’ll stop. I pamper him enough.”

  They walked down the hall, the whoo-whoo sound echoing around them. That and the sad patter of rain was too much for D.B. She stopped. “I can’t stand it. Look, I don’t want to screw up your scientific experiments or anything, but can I stay with him a little longer? I mean, he won’t suddenly go nuts o
r anything, will he?”

  Wendy looked at Eric, who shrugged and said, “She’s always been a sucker for stray apes.”

  “Okay. You can stay with him. He can be rough playing, so be careful. Just in case you get sleepy, you may want to stick a few of the stuffed alligator dolls around you. He won’t come near you then.”

  D.B. laughed. “Come on.”

  “Really. He’s afraid of alligators, even though he’s never seen one, never even been near the reptile house. But I’ve shown him pictures and it makes him very frightened. So I use little alligator dolls from the gift shop and stick them in places I don’t want him to go. It works.”

  D.B. hurried back toward Spock’s room. She called back without turning her head. “You two have fun. Maybe you can find a good book to read together or give each other pop quizzes.” Her laughter drowned out even Spock’s moaning. They heard her unlatch Spock’s door. His moaning stopped altogether.

  “Well,” Wendy said, unbuttoning her blouse. “Are we going to make love or what?”

  Her home was a trailer just behind the Animal Care Center. They walked through the warm rain, her blouse open, the large drops bursting against her smooth dark skin. She wore a white bra that had a tan sweat line under each cup. Somehow, that thin discolored line was more erotic to Eric than the sight of her breasts or thoughts of what they would be doing. In those tan lines were hours, months, of hard work, laboring to keep this place functioning. To keep the animals alive. Not for any personal gain or profit, but for some wacky dream about populating the encroaching California jungle with animals. He admired her determination. And that was the strongest aphrodisiac of all.

  They stepped into her trailer. The inside was spartan. There was a single bed, a battered old dresser, a radio/cassette player, a desk scattered with scientific data about the apes. Taped on the wall was a map of the zoo with Post-it notes slapped here and there with details for where she planned to improve the place.

  “Homey,” Eric said.

  She shrugged out of her khaki shirt. She began unbuttoning his shirt.

  “Not much on small talk, huh?” he said.

  “You want to talk or you want to screw?”

  “You pick that up in Cambridge?”

  “I picked it up living alone here for almost a year.” She stood on her toes and pressed her lips against his. They were slightly chapped from the sun and tasted a little salty, but they also had a moist sweetness that drew Eric closer. He pulled her tight against him, her hard body feeling weightless in his arms.

  After a minute she pulled back, her eyes open, looking at him. “I understand American men prefer their women passive.”

  “Some do,” Eric said.

  “You?”

  Eric kissed her over each eye. “You want to arm wrestle first?”

  She laughed. “I have a better idea.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “I hope not.” She unfastened her bra and shook it off. Then she pulled off her safari shorts. Underneath she wore men’s boxer shorts. “All I could find,” she explained.

  Eric watched her closely as he undressed. Her movements were not shy or consciously sexy. She disrobed as simply as if she were alone preparing for bed. He liked that.

  She stepped out of the boxer shorts and stood next to the bed wearing only her blue Rebock aerobic shoes. “Sometimes Spock gets in here and breaks something,” she said, “then tries to hide it by sweeping it under the bed. I leave the shoes for last so I don’t step on any stray pieces.” She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off one shoe. A ring of dirt circled the ankle, just above where the shoe had been. From working in the garden, Eric realized. “I used to take aerobics classes every evening before the quakes. Funny, but my cadiovascular system feels stronger now than it ever did then.” She kicked off her other shoe and had a matching ring of dirt. She licked her finger and rubbed at the dirt. It did little good. She laughed. “Well, what did you expect? A virgin princess?”

  Eric stripped off the rest of his clothes while she sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed. She looked so small naked, that he was aware of his own broad chest and heavily veined arms as he removed the last of his clothing.

  She leaned back onto the bed and patted the space next to her. “I know it’s a small bed, but you’ll fit. Spock and I have both fit before.”

  She saw an expression flicker across Eric’s face.

  “I don’t mean that way. Just sitting.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “No, but you were curious. I know I would be if I were you. Lonely woman living happily alone with apes. When real men come in she throws them in cages. Sounds screwy to me.”

  Eric stretched out beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist. Her toes grazed his shins.

  “It’s just that I didn’t want sex with just anyone. Not that I’m looking for anything long term. I just wanted it to be nice, the way I remember it.”

  Eric kissed her. Their lips ground against each other, tongues rubbing against each other like cats. His hand cupped her buttocks and pulled her closer. Her hand slipped between them and held his penis tight. He could feel it growing even harder in her grasp.

  “Let’s just get the suspense over with,” she urged. “We can go for fireworks later.”

  Eric didn’t mind occasional hasty sex. He remembered how often he’d met Annie home for lunch for what she called her One-hour Workout. She had it timed perfectly: ten minutes to drive home, five minutes for chit-chat and undressing, ten minutes for sex, five minutes for washing and redressing, twenty minutes for lunch together, and ten minutes to drive back to work. Sometimes they skipped lunch altogether.

  Usually he preferred a longer, more relaxed encounter. He wanted the tenderness, which was rarer than food or ammunition.

  Wendy grabbed Eric around his waist and rolled him over on top of her. She spread her legs and guided him inside, hooking her legs over his hips before he got a deep breath. Now she was arching her pelvis toward him, her hip bones bumping his with a rhythmic grace. Soon he was matching her, thrust for thrust. Her movements quickened, became more insistent. Greedy. Her breathing was ragged, gasping. Eric felt both their bodies slicken with sweat. Her ankles slid down his hips to the backs of his thighs.

  She spoke softly in Chinese and he answered her in Chinese. It was nothing specific, no vows. Just encouragement, gentle thoughts of pleasure. An image of Annie fought into his mind and he pushed it away.

  Suddenly she tensed, her body slapping against his, her arms curled around his neck. Her hips were off the bed, pushed against his as hard as they could go. Her face clenched, the eyes disappearing into lines of passion. Her mouth was open and she pulled his lips to hers, pushing her tongue into his mouth. As she came, he felt a hum at the back of her throat travelling along her tongue and into his mouth. It was a thrilling sensation. He came seconds after her, his body quivering with each spasm.

  “I feel guilty,” she said, huddled against Eric’s side. Her fingernails grated through his chest hair.

  “Why?”

  “I thought of my boyfriend just as I came. I didn’t want to, but I did.”

  Eric smiled. “We all have our ghosts.”

  “You don’t understand. Gregory survived the quakes with me. The Zoo had let me keep my trailer here while I worked with Spock and Madonna. Gregory had been a photojournalist doing a story on my work. That’s how we met. Anyway, when the quakes hit, a lot of people here were killed, not from the actual quake, but trampling each other on their way to the parking lot. Gregory made his way here to find me and I convinced him to stay here and help me rebuild the zoo. He did.” She rolled away from him, tucking her knees up.

  He ran his hand along her arm. “And then?”

  “He was killed. The quake had freed two Brazilian jaguars. They’d been killing and eating some of the other animals so Greg and I tried to trap them. Only they got Greg first. He was dead by the time I arrived, though while they were feeding off h
im, I managed to net them both. They’re back in their cages now.”

  “And you had to bury Greg.”

  “Not exactly.” She turned around to face Eric. “Before I got my garden going, I had to rely on the zoo’s storeroom to feed all these animals. You have no idea how much they eat and how scientifically controlled it is. Anyway, we knew it wouldn’t take long for us to run out of food, so Greg and I supplemented their diet.”

  Eric lifted himself onto his elbow. “The bodies.”

  “Yes. We dragged in as many as we could from the parking lot and adjacent areas, chopped them up, and fed them to the animals. We debated the whole thing for two days before noticing that the other animals on the outside were already starting to nibble away on them. That convinced us.” She looked at Eric. “When Greg died it was just a natural extension of what we’d already done. I fed him to the Asian lions. It’s what I’d have expected him to do if it were me.”

  Eric flopped back down onto the pillow.

  She sat up. “I’m terrible, aren’t I?”

  Eric didn’t answer for a while. He thought about all that he’d done since the world changed, all that he’d seen people doing to each other. What had Wendy Chen done so awful? Made use of what resources were available to keep lives going. Perhaps the outside world would never understand, but then they didn’t have to. They could make judgments from their tables at restaurants while waiters stuffed doggie bags with leftovers.

  She pounded her fist into her pillow. “Sometimes I think I’m really insane. All this work and anguish over some cockeyed notion of turning this wasteland into paradise.”

  Eric pulled her on top of him. “We could use a little paradise around here.”

  They kissed. Slowly they explored each other. Lips, fingers, skin, and hair touched and mixed in one long movement. This time they went for fireworks.

  Hours later, as Wendy slept quietly next to him, Eric slipped out of bed, dressed, picked up his crossbow, and took the keys from her pants. He eased out of the trailer without a sound. It took him less than five minutes to cross the zoo to the Primate Propogation Center where Seaman Washington and Petty Officer Bolinski were imprisoned.