Lost Angel

by Kyle West

  “Their bikers are fast and there’s a lot of them,” Dan said. “They’ve converted most of them to hydro fuel by now.”

  “The longer we wait, the worse the position we’ll be in,” Raine said. “How much longer till we’re ready?”

  Dan shrugged. “A year, at best. And it’s not likely our plans wouldn’t be made clear to Black at some point. There are too many people we have to let in on it. One of them is bound to squeal.”

  “The options seem to be attack on our own with the element of surprise, and then ask for help,” Raine said. “Or to make friends first and risk tipping our hand, but potentially strike with greater strength.”

  Dan was quiet; he as well as Raine didn’t know which option would be better. As much as Raine sometimes disliked Ohlan, he knew his brother would have had some useful insight unforeseen by either of them.

  “I see no other way,” Raine said. “We strike, and we strike hard. Someone has to lead.” His looked up at Dan, his best friend, and saw those blue eyes looking back at him fiercely.

  “Let it be us, then,” Dan said. “Let the strongest take the first step.”

  Raine nodded. If the other groups didn’t pick up the slack, then the Angels would most likely lose the war. And if the Angels lost, all of L.A. would, too. They wouldn’t like that they’re hand was being forced. But they, too, would want to rid themselves of the Reaper oppressors. Half of them already paid Carin Black tribute.

  “The Krakens should have our backs,” Dan said.

  Raine was confident of that, too. The Angels were the only thing that stood before the Reapers and Long Beach, where the Krakens had their main base.

  Raine leaned forward. “We should let the Krakens, along with anyone else, know that we plan to attack the day before it happens. Give them at least some time to mobilize.”

  “That’d tip Black off,” Dan said.

  Raine nodded. “Likely, it would. But I won’t have our men fighting alone. By the time news of the war reaches the others, it might be too late. Better to get ahead of it, let them know the exact reasons we’re fighting, before Black has the chance to frame it as aggression on our part.”

  “That makes sense,” Dan said. The captain put out his hand. “Are we agreed, then?”

  Raine took the hand. “It’s the only way forward. We have to make our move, before it’s made on us.”

  Chapter 36

  THE ANGELS DIDN’T HAVE the chance to build up for a year.

  The Reapers poured south over I-10 within a couple of weeks, overwhelming the Angels’ positions. There were hundreds of them, and they overran the empty streets, the only thing slowing them down were the substantial roadblocks the Angels had set up from before. Every man and woman capable of firing a gun was organized into squadrons and led into the fray. Dan took control of the logistics of the Angels’ forces.

  Makara, like everyone else, reported for duty on the ground floor concourse. There, she was handled her rifle and handgun, while Dan himself assigned her and Samuel to Scouting Squad D. It wasn’t much of a squad, since she and Samuel were the only members.

  Maybe Raine was just testing them and seeing how they did. If successful, he would probably assign more troops to Samuel’s squad.

  Dan told each of the squad leaders their orders, and they set out into the city. He came last of all to Samuel, giving him orders quietly. Samuel nodded as Dan said, “Good luck,” the only part of the order that Makara could hear. Samuel saluted, fist over heart, as the now General Green withdrew.

  “What was that about?” Makara asked.

  Samuel motioned her other to a nearby table. Makara hung her rifle by the strap over her shoulder.

  Once seated, Samuel spoke. “Our task is a little different from the others.”

  “How so?” Makara asked.

  “We’ve been ordered to head toward San Bernardino. Raine wants to know if the Reaps are pushing into the eastern groups as well. He wants us to get there first and convince them to join us.”

  “We’re the diplomatic corps, basically,” Makara said, distastefully. She’d hoped for an assignment of being sent to the front lines.

  “This task is important,” Samuel said. “Securing alliances will be the key to winning this war.”

  “I thought Raine had tried that already.”

  “If the Reapers’ aggression hasn’t changed the eastern cities’ minds, then nothing will,” Samuel said. “Raine must want to take one last shot.”

  Makara nodded. “All right. When are we headed out?”

  “Right now.”

  Her eyes widened at that. Things had gotten very real, very fast. “It’s almost night.”

  “Exactly,” Samuel said. “If we walk fast, we’ll be most of the way by morning. We need to pack up. There won’t be much chance to refresh our water until we reach the Santa Ana.”

  THEY WERE OUT OF THE mall within the hour, the blood red sun setting behind them over the dilapidated buildings of southern L.A. They heard the roar of motorcycles leaving the parking garage in the distance, the Angel cavalry going to meet their enemy on the front lines. The sound quieted until there was nothing but the wind and the cold, dry air. The occasional crack of a gunshot split the evening silence, but those shots were distant. Most of the fighting was due north, and Samuel plotted a course east northeast.

  Samuel knew they couldn’t be complacent, though. The Reapers might think to approach the new Angel Command from the east, the direction they were headed. The going was slow, since they stuck to the shadows or even walked through buildings themselves in order to be out of sight. Both wore dark clothing, and the atmosphere above, eternally dusty from the impact of Ragnarok, meant the darkness was almost complete.

  Makara had no idea how Samuel could make his way forward. She would have lost all sense of direction by now. Still, every half hour or so he found a dark corner in a building, knelt, and shone the pair’s single flashlight on a compass and map that was provided to all the scouting teams. Once done, Samuel put the flashlight up, and they were on their way again.

  The passed through Anaheim first, climbing a tall fence and finding themselves on the other side an overgrown theme park. Most of the signage was faded, or even spray painted over.

  “What was this place?” Makara asked. “Why would they have built train tracks that high?”

  “It was for entertainment,” Samuel said. “People would come to this place and ride trains on them, going down those hills and back up.” Samuel paused as he gazed up to look at it. “It was called a roller coaster.”

  Makara’s eyes popped. “Why would they risk their lives like that?”

  “I assume it was safe if people did it.”

  Makara felt it was anything but safe. The wide promenades were lined with rubble and trash. Some of the train tracks had even collapsed, and at one point, they had to climb over a small mountain of wood barring their path. There was a large sign that had landed fallen sideways over the path ahead, with the faded face of what looked like a mouse. His comically happy face looked deranged surrounded by such destruction, as if he had been the cause of it.

  They made the rest of their way through the park, passing deadened flower beds, wilted trees that had been long dead, and several dried lakebeds and ponds. There were skeletons, most half-buried in the debris.

  “People tried to shelter here,” Samuel said, breaking the silence. “Hard to tell just how long ago these communities fell. My guess is they tried to make this place work sometime in the Chaos Years. A theme park this size would have had a lot of amenities for taking care of a lot of people.” He paused, as if considering the problem. “Of course, the food runs out eventually. A place like this, with its surrounding walls, might have been a nice shelter once upon a time. Now, there’s only ghosts.”

  Neither of them said anything more, and Makara felt she could breathe again once they’d passed through to the other side.

  “We should find some shelter before morning comes,” S
amuel said.

  Makara nodded. She was starting to feel tired, too.

  When they reached the Santa Ana, little more than a trickle running from the north, they crossed a bridge quickly and refilled their water after filtering and sanitizing it. They found shelter in what used to be a large grocery store. The shelving was still there, all of which had been picked clean years ago.

  They hid behind some boxes and slept the day away.

  Chapter 37

  THAT EVENING, THEY picked up where they left off and headed west through the bare hills, following the line of the highway. The cars had been mostly cleared by this point, even if the pavement and supports were cracked in many places. Few trees were still alive. The lack of rainfall and sunlight meant few things could survive into the new Ice Age.

  “How much farther?” Makara asked.

  “It’s still a hike,” Samuel said. “We should be at the first settlement in a few hours.”

  Makara resisted the urge to complain. Her legs were sore, but if she complained too much, Samuel might tell Raine, who would be all too happy to keep her back home, cooped up and no help to anyone.

  “It’s quiet,” Makara said. “No Reaps. No gunshots, even. I thought people lived out this way.”

  Samuel paused for breath; the highway was climbing in elevation. He took a swig from his canteen. “Beyond these hills are the last settlements before the San Bernardino Mountains. First one on the way is Riverside.” He took a few more puffs. “Might try there first.”

  They continued, pausing briefly for a lunch of jerky wrapped in flatbread. Then, they were on their way again, using the highway to travel more quickly. There was no sign of any other person. The ruins of L.A.’s suburbs were all but deserted.

  “Gives me the creeps,” Makara said.

  Samuel motioned down suddenly, and instinctively, Makara fell to the ground. Both siblings crawled forward until they reached the railing of the highway and peeked over. Samuel raised a pair of binoculars to his eyes.

  “Reaps,” he said after a moment. “Seems they’re setting up an outpost on the highway.”

  “Pass that over.”

  After a moment, Samuel obliged. Makara peered through the lenses, counting four or five Reapers, but seven parked bikes, all lined up in a row.

  “At least seven of them,” she said. “That tower they’re in is high. You don’t think they can see us, do you?”

  It took an uncomfortably long time for Samuel to respond. “It’s possible. Whatever the case, we can’t approach any closer. Dawn will be coming soon, and they’ll surely see us then.”

  “Failed,” Makara said. “And we haven’t even made it, yet.”

  “All the same, we’ve gotten valuable intel,” Samuel said. “Come on. Sooner we get back, the better.”

  HALF AN HOUR AFTER they’d turned back, they heard the roar of an engine behind them on the highway.

  “Guess that answers whether they saw us,” Samuel said. “Down that ramp!”

  They both sprinted down the off-ramp as the sound of the engine approached. They ducked into the first building they saw, a gas station, to make their stand.

  They set themselves up behind the counter and poked their rifles out through the shattered glass. Shell casings littered the dirty floor. There had been a fight here before.

  “Stay calm,” Samuel said. “There’s only one engine I hear, so we can take him.”

  The bike thundered down the ramp, turning into the gas station. The headlight remained on but was pointed toward the street. A man’s bearded face looked toward them, lost in shadow.

  He didn’t seem to know for sure whether they were in there, and Makara was reluctant to take a shot in the darkness. Besides, shooting him would only give away their position if there were more.

  The man killed the engine, and she heard the cock of a handgun. His boots crunched over the pavement to their position. The man paused, and shortly after, Makara heard him retching. He straightened, and then swayed a bit, as if he had difficulty keeping his balance.

  Was the man drunk? Was he even coming after them?”

  Samuel held up a hand and raised his rifle slowly. He hesitated, watching intently before relaxing and allowing the barrel to drop.

  The man was sitting down now and groaning.

  Samuel slowly stood. Makara shook her head vehemently, but he motioned her to stay put. He walked, without fear, out into the gas station. He reached the man, and Makara heard him talking. The man just groaned some more.

  What is going on? Makara thought.

  She followed her brother out onto the pavement. She stood a few feet behind him.

  “Olson,” the man growled, in a deep voice. “Name’s Olson.” He coughed violently a few times, then spit on the ground next to them. “They thought I’d get them sick. They told me to go this way. To not come back. I took my bike. They told me to leave it.” Olson looked up at Samuel. “Say. Take me back, patch me up, and there’s a lot I can tell you about the Reaps.” Olson couched into his hand violently, while both Makara and Samuel took a step back.

  “We can take you back to base and help you,” Samuel said carefully, after a moment. “We have medicine. You’ll have to give us information, though, like you said.”

  “I’ll do whatever,” Olson said. “Whatever you want. They don’t want me anymore.”

  “He’ll just get us sick, Samuel.”

  Samuel stood. Even in the darkness, Makara could see the frown on his face. “Maybe, Makara. But he has the Reaper tats and I have no doubt he knows a lot. He insists he wasn’t sent out here by them. His face is burning up. He needs medical attention immediately if he’s to survive long enough to give us information. Information that could be the key to winning this war.”

  “Why should we waste our stuff on the likes of him?”

  Samuel inclined his head toward her. “I wouldn’t want to, either. But we’ve been sent to get information, and if we save this man’s life, he’ll it to us.”

  “What about San Bernardino?” Makara asked. “What about our mission?”

  Samuel shook his head. “He told me there are ten guys in that outpost. Their only purpose is to block envoys from coming this way out of Lost Angels’ territory. We’re not going to get through that, and we don’t have the supplies or the time to sneak around. Olson here is a good consolation prize for Raine.”

  “He’s just a grunt,” Makara said. “He probably doesn’t know much.”

  “I know a lot,” the man said. “Carin’s getting the eastside gangs on his side. He plans to surround the Angels. Should be ready for the final assault inside a couple of weeks.”

  The man hacked again, and said nothing else, as if speaking was too much effort for him.

  “What do we do, Sam? We can take his bike back, but I say let’s leave him.”

  “The bike’s big enough to carry all three of us,” Samuel said. “Not fast, and not very safely. I have some rope and can tie him to the back. You can hold on to me, and I can drive.”

  “You know how to drive one of these?” Makara asked.

  “A little. Dan showed me a few things.”

  “I . . . I can help,” Olson said. “Just get me back.”

  “Let’s tie him up, then,” Makara said. “If you’re really set on doing this.”

  This was done quickly. Olson groaned as he was rigged to the back of the bike. Samuel sat in front and turned the key in the ignition. He pressed the throttle and bike rolled off. He did a testing loop, and came back.

  “You’ll have to sit right behind me, Mak,” he said. “I won’t go more than twenty miles an hour. This set up isn’t safe.”

  “What if those Reaps behind hear us?” she asked.

  Samuel frowned as he considered. “Let’s hope they think it’s Olson still. They haven’t come after him yet. If they do, then I guess we’ll just have to speed up. No choice in that. I’d like to know what he has to say. And he won’t say much unless we can get him better.”


  Makara pursed her lips. “Okay. This is probably the stupidest thing we’ve ever done, but . . . I’m for it. Information could be useful.”

  Space was tight, and Olson was none too comfortable, Makara was sure. His boots even dragged on the ground as they set off, returning to the highway and heading west to the Lost Angels’ turf.

  Chapter 38

  MAKARA WAS SHOCKED at how fast the landscape rolled by, even at the tame speed of 20 mph. They did in several hours what had taken almost two days before. By the time the sun was rising behind them, they were pulling inside the parking garage and getting help pulling Olson to the holding cells.

  Raine was there, and gave the order for the man to be transferred to the infirmary and placed under Darlene’s care.

  “I hope we did the right thing,” Samuel told him, once they were alone in his office.

  Raine nodded. “That man can never leave this place alive. Still, he might be useful. What he said about Black corralling the eastern gangs . . . that worries me greatly. He seems to be in a bad spot, though.”

  Olson’s condition had worsened considerably on the ride home. He was breathing, but his head was burning up. Makara could see clearly that none of it was faked. Makara was just relieved for the ride to be over.

  “Both of you get some rest,” Raine said. “I’d say you both earned it.”

  Makara and Samuel left the jail and went back to the apartment.

  OLSON AWOKE LATER BUT was catatonic. An IV full of precious antibiotics seemed to be doing no good. Could it be that they had weakened over time? Raine knew the day would come when most medications would start to lose effectiveness. Or maybe this man had something that couldn’t be cured by the Angels’ medicines.

  “Not much else I can do,” Darlene said, shaking her head. “I’m no doctor, even if I’m the closest thing you’ve got to one.”

  “I understand,” Raine said. Olson’s eyes were wide open, his pale face full of scars beneath is yellow beard. A thin line of dribble ran out of his lower lip, while his body shook in tiny tremors. Raine remained half an hour longer, enough time for the man to fall back asleep.