“They’ll probably try to go through there. I want to check the road. While I do, get the others into position near the pass. Hopefully we can stop them there.”
“Got it.”
Ash waited until Sealy left, then he climbed over the crest and headed down the other side.
__________
TAMARA FOLLOWED BLAKE to the highway.
“Maybe the trucks didn’t come this far,” she said as they reached the bottom of the slope.
“I think you’re right,” he said. “I would have thought we’d at least hear them by now.”
Staying just inside the trees that ran next to the highway, they headed to the rendezvous point where they were supposed to meet up with the scouts Blake had sent ahead.
“We should check with Bobby,” she suggested.
Blake pulled out his radio and held it out to her. “Be my guest.”
She took it and pressed the SEND button. “Bobby, it’s Tamara. Can you give us an update on the trucks?” She waited for a response, but after a few seconds she tried again. “Bobby? Are you there?”
Nothing.
“Could the hill be blocking the signal?” she asked Blake.
“Shouldn’t. Not with that radio.”
She frowned and pressed the talk button again. “Bobby, where are you?”
No response.
She was about to try again when someone ahead whispered, “Over here.”
Brad Delgado waved to them from behind an abandoned car sitting on the road. With him was Warren Palmer.
“Where’s Jack?” Blake asked as soon as he and Tamara joined them.
“He went for a look around the bend,” Brad said, pointing ahead at where the highway curved out of sight. “Should be right back.”
“I think something might be wrong with Bobby,” Tamara said to Blake. “He should have answered.”
“Let me try.” Blake took the radio from her. “Bobby, this is Blake. Come in.”
Static.
“Bobby, do you read me?”
Still nothing.
He glanced back at the hill for a second. “Warren, I need you to go check on Bobby.”
Warren nodded and hurried off in a crouch.
Tamara hesitated for a moment before rising and saying, “I’m going with him.”
__________
SNOW GAVE WAY under Ash’s feet, tumbling downward in a mini avalanche. He threw his arms out to stabilize himself and then moved cautiously across the steep slope, grabbing a tree wherever he could until he reached a gentler incline. From there it was only a matter of moments before he reached the shoulder at the side of the highway.
The road was covered by over a foot of undisturbed snow. No vehicles had come this way since before the last storm, and he couldn’t hear any in the distance. So where were these trucks Bobby had seen?
Ahead, the highway dipped out of sight, so he hiked over to check if he could see anything from there. A gap between trees marked where the highway ran through the long valley below. Slowly, he moved his gaze along the road, searching for movement or anything that looked out of place.
There.
About half a mile ahead. A line of dark shapes at the side of the road.
Trucks. And not just any kind of trucks. At least two looked like they could be snowplows. As he watched, a pinpoint of light flicked on inside one of them.
Ash clicked on his mic. “Ash for Blake.”
“Go for Blake.”
“What’s your location?”
“On the highway, just outside the city limits. Haven’t seen our visitors yet, though.”
“That’s because it looks like they stopped about a mile from your position.” He described what he’d found, then said, “My guess is, they’re planning on cutting across the hill and then coming at the entrance from the north end of the meadow. Hook up with Sealy and take everyone that way. I’ll join you in a bit.”
“Copy that,” Blake said.
Ash held his position, watching in case the vehicles started moving in his direction. It wasn’t long before more pinpricks of light flicked on then off again.
People getting out of the trucks.
His instincts had been correct. The vehicles weren’t going anywhere.
__________
RENI JUMPED WHEN she heard the loud, scratchy voice come out of the radio. She frantically searched for the volume control and turned it way down. Holding the device to her ear, she listened to the conversation. When they signed off, she smiled.
Help was here. Only a mile out of town, which meant even closer to her position.
What the new arrivals didn’t know was that the invaders had spotted them and were planning on cutting them off.
She had to get to them and warn them.
Then they could take back Dream Sky.
18
RAGGED POINT, CALIFORNIA
3:26 AM PST
RILEY WEBER SCANNED the hotel through her binoculars. It had been over an hour since she’d last seen any movement. She had counted nine people—six men and three women, all of them larger than she was. And then there was the matter of the weapons they seemed to always have close at hand—pistols for most, while one of the men carried a sawed-off shotgun wherever he went.
There was no question that four of them were the same people she and Craig had seen looting the grocery store in Cambria the previous afternoon. Even from this distance, she recognized the bald guy with the scraggly goatee.
She and Craig had been chased by them out of town, but had been able to lose them and return to Cambria to reunite with Noreen. To play it safe, the three friends had headed south to Morro Bay, where they broke into a motel room overlooking the water.
It had been Riley’s turn to round up dinner, so she had left the other two in the room. Finding anything decent to eat was becoming harder and harder. Any food that required refrigeration had gone bad by now, leaving only canned and dry goods.
When she got to the grocery store, she tied a scarf around her face to cut down on the odor of decaying food before going in. Animals emboldened by the sudden disappearance of man had discovered the delights of cereal and cake mix and boxed juices, leaving the aisles littered with cardboard and broken glass.
A trio of squirrels screeched at her and then ran off as she stepped into their aisle. Pre-outbreak Riley would have been freaked out by that, but to the new Riley it was just another day.
When she found several bottles of spaghetti sauce with expiration dates still a few weeks away, she decided to do something special. She located a gallon of bottled water and two large bags of elbow macaroni. Both bags had been gnawed open but were still mostly full, and she thought if she boiled the pasta she could get rid of whatever germs it might have. Now all she needed was a pot and something to cook everything on.
On their earlier drive through town, they’d passed a campground near the golf course, half full of abandoned camps. Noreen had called it creepy. Riley had grunted in agreement but she wasn’t sure anything could be called creepy anymore.
Confident she would find a camp stove and pot there, she headed out of the store with her supplies in her backpack. She had barely taken two steps through the doorway, however, when she heard the roar of motorcycles.
The engines had a deep rumble and didn’t sound like those in the bikes Noreen and Craig had been using.
She hurried over to her own motorbike, intending to move it behind the grocery store so it wouldn’t be seen if the unknown bikers rode by, but as she started to wheel it across the small lot, the noise faded and she realized the bikes were driving away.
She waited until the noise had almost disappeared, then kicked her bike to life and raced back to the motel. Morro Bay was no safer than Cambria had been. They needed to get out of there right now, maybe even go as far south as Santa Barbara.
Parking her bike next to those of her friends, she raced up the outside stairs, but as she turned toward their room, she stutter stepped in surpr
ise. Their door was open wide, the blinds hanging crooked in the window.
Racing into the room, she called, “Noreen? Craig?”
The beds were askew, the linens a mess.
She ran over to the bathroom. “Noreen! Craig!”
There was blood on the wall, not a lot, but more than one would get from a simple cut. She looked into the room again and realized Noreen’s and Craig’s bags were gone.
Without thinking twice, she headed back to the parking lot and got on her bike.
She caught sight of the others for the first time on the road between Cayucos and Harmony. They were about a half mile ahead, three motorcycles and that damn blue pickup truck. They were the same jackasses, all right.
The motorcycles had only solo drivers, so she guessed Noreen and Craig were in the truck.
The sun was passing below the hills to the west as she topped the ridge above Harmony. Below her, the road stretched straight across a valley before climbing another slope into Cambria, the town where this nightmare had begun. The others were nearing the midpoint, their headlights on now to cut through the growing shadows.
Riley left her lights off, praying that the road remained clear, and followed the group past Cambria and San Simeon. Beyond the turnoff for Hearst Castle, the road paralleled the ocean for several miles before rising up the side of a mountain until it was a couple hundred feet above the beach. She was only able to catch glimpses of the bikes now and then as the road twisted and turned its way up the slope.
A few minutes later, if not for the glow of lights ahead, she would have been discovered. She hadn’t seen a sight like it since the first few days the world had begun to die, so it was more than enough motivation for her to pull to the side of the road and kill her engine.
Around the curve ahead, she could hear the other bikes idling, and realized that they, too, had stopped. Within seconds, each engine was shut down.
Whatever was being illuminated, that’s where they were, she thought. She hid her bike among the brush next to the shoulder and moved cautiously down the road toward the glow, ready to dive for cover if necessary. As the road curved gently to the right, she caught sight of several buildings on the ocean side of the highway—a gas station, some stores, and a motel, all with lights blazing. The compound must have had its own generators.
As she drew nearer, she was able to read the sign out front.
RAGGED POINT
INN & RESORT
Worried she’d be exposed if she stayed on the road, she moved into the brush on the hill opposite the complex and found a hidden spot she could watch from.
Just to the south of the gas station, the motorcycles and truck were parked in a lot next to three other motorcycles and a brand new RV.
The six men stood on the sidewalk talking. As Riley watched, two women came out of the building behind them and joined the conversation. After a few minutes, four of the men walked over to the bed of the truck, reached in, and pulled out Noreen and Craig.
Neither of Riley’s friends was moving, but the fact that they were tied up made her hopeful they were still alive. The men carried Noreen and Craig to the motel area on the left and into one of the rooms.
That had been over eight hours ago. Since then, Riley had been very busy. In addition to keeping an eye on things, she had taken excursions to the north and south ends of the complex to give her a better idea of the setup.
Somewhere around midnight, most of the lights had gone out, and all but two of the men—the bald guy and the one with the gun tattooed on his arm—had made their way to their motel rooms. The two still awake stayed in the front room of what looked like a restaurant, directly across from her position. She initially assumed they were some kind of night watch, but after seeing them work their way through several beers, she realized if their job was to guard the place, they weren’t taking their assignment too seriously.
The drinking had gone on until almost 2:30 a.m., when one of the men staggered out of the room. Riley kept a watch on the outside, thinking he’d exit and head to the motel, but he never appeared. The other man continued to drink a little longer before his head drooped and he slumped over the table. He had not moved an inch since then, and the other man had not returned.
Now or never.
__________
NOREEN NEVER DRIFTED off for more than a few minutes before an image of the bald man jerked her back awake. He’d busted through the door of their Morro Bay motel room first, and then punched her in the stomach and held her down while one of his friends tied her up.
She knew she’d been lucky, though. Craig had tried to fight back and suffered the consequences. The bruise under his eye was as big as her palm, and the blow that had caused it had caught his nose, leaving a layer of dried blood on his upper lip. Where else he was hurt, she didn’t know, only that she’d heard him get hit several more times.
What really troubled her, though, was that he had yet to regain consciousness. She’d tried multiple times to wake him, but since she was tied up several feet away, all she could do was call to him. Not once had he stirred.
She’d asked the people who’d taken them why they were doing this, and pleaded with them to let her and Craig go, but the only replies she’d received were descriptions of what they would do to her if she didn’t shut up.
She twisted her hands, testing the rope for the hundredth time, but knowing it would do no good. There was no chance she’d be able to wiggle out.
She and Craig were in trouble.
Deep, deep trouble.
__________
RILEY SPED ACROSS the highway in a crouch and stopped against the only tree between the road and the parking lot.
When she was sure no one was coming to investigate, she moved across the asphalt to the motorcycles.
A week ago, she wouldn’t have known what to do, but in the days since, she’d had a crash course in motorcycle maintenance from Craig in case hers ever broke down.
“If it’s not starting, check the sparkplug wires,” he’d said, showing her what he meant. “If they’re not connected properly, your engine won’t fire.”
Moving from bike to bike, Riley unplugged both ends of the wires and took them with her. The truck was another matter. She suspected there was a similar way to disable it, but it would involve opening the hood and that would probably make too much noise.
She had a different solution—she used the knife from her backpack to slit the tires. She then did the same with those on the motor home. No other cars were in this lot, but a few were parked by the gas station, their windows dusty from not having moved in weeks. She should probably slash their tires, too, but she was anxious to get her friends out and worried that she was already too late.
She peeked at the restaurant. The bald man hadn’t budged and there was still no sign of his friend. Hopefully Tattoo Guy was passed out in the back.
She hurried along a path leading from the parking lot around the back of the motel’s office and over to the guest rooms. The rooms were spread among five small buildings. A couple dozen feet behind them was the ledge of a rocky cliff overlooking the ocean far below.
The room Noreen and Craig had been carried into was in the building closest to the highway. Unlike the other rooms, theirs had no windows on the front so Riley had been unable to see inside. The kidnappers were almost as spread out as the rooms were. Only one other room in the building her friends were in was being used. Unfortunately, it was the one right next door.
She crept along the path to the last building and tried her friends’ door.
Locked.
She headed behind the structure, hoping to get in that way. But what she discovered surprised her. While the other rooms all had doors that opened to the small grass area separating the building from the cliff, Noreen and Craig’s room did not. And like the front, the back side didn’t have any windows.
Must be a storage room.
How was she going to get in there? Even if she were strong enough, she
couldn’t bust down the door without being heard, and picking a lock was something she’d only seen on TV.
The quietest way would be with a key. There had to be one somewhere, right? Most likely back at the office. She started to turn, then remembered the sparkplug wires. She pulled them out of her bag and, with a giant heave, threw them off the cliff.
The office building had several entrances. The ones in the back were all locked and appeared to be private. Fortunately, the glass door to the reception area in front turned out to be open. She slipped behind the counter and searched drawers, but the only keys she could find were for guest rooms.
She opened the door at the back of reception. As she’d hoped, it led to a handful of administrative offices. The only keys she discovered in the first office belonged to the filing cabinet in the corner. The second office, however, contained a ring with at least thirty keys hanging from it, one of which had the word MASTER engraved on its surface.
She took the whole set to be safe, stuck them in her jacket pocket, and headed out.
“Who the fuck’re you?”
The man with the gun tattoo was standing in the middle of the office lobby as she exited the back area. He smelled of alcohol and weaved back and forth as he stared at her through squinting eyes.
“Nobody,” she said.
He moved toward the end of the counter and blocked her way out. “Izzat right?”
She reached behind her for the back door.
“Don’t,” he ordered.
He swung wide around the corner, his arm grazing the back wall.
No way she could get the door open and run out the back before he’d get to her, so she slapped her hands on the counter and started to jump to the other side.
Despite his impaired condition, the man got a few fingers around her ankle before she could get all the way over. She fell forward, catching herself right before she slammed into the front of the counter.
Twisting at the waist, she yanked her leg. “Let go of me.”
“Sorry, babe, you ain’t going anywhere,” he said, grinning as he tightened his grip.
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