China Lake

by Meg Gardiner

  About seven thirty Luke was on the living room floor playing with his LEGO men. On the driveway headlights flared, shining through the slim windows along the front door. But from the sound of the engine I could tell that it wasn’t Jesse. The bell rang. Outside, a woman stood under the porch light. I saw a slender curve of pale arm, sleeveless white cotton shirt, and green cargo pants. Auburn coils of hair.

  It was Tabitha. My heart started pounding.

  Through the door she said, ‘‘I need to talk to you. Please. It’s important.’’

  What was she doing here? Was this a new attempt to grab Luke? I looked beyond her, to the edges of the darkness where the porch light faded, trying to see whether anybody else was out there. It was impossible to tell.

  She squinted at me through the narrow windows along the door. She was shivering and looked drawn.

  ‘‘I’m leaving the Remnant,’’ she said.

  I didn’t move.

  ‘‘I’m quitting the church. I need help.’’

  A thousand thoughts were pinging through my brain, and most of them were telling me this was a trick.

  ‘‘For the love of God, I’m desperate.’’ She tilted her head back and shut her eyes. ‘‘Please.’’

  Luke stopped making explosion sounds. ‘‘Is that my mom?’’

  ‘‘Yeah, tiger. I’m going to talk to her for a minute. Everything’s okay.’’

  He was crouching on the floor with his LEGO men in his hands, as still as crystal. I told him to keep playing and stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door shut.

  I said, ‘‘How did you find me here?’’

  ‘‘You weren’t at home. I figured you’d be with Jesse.’’

  ‘‘He isn’t listed in the phone book. Who told you where he lived?’’

  ‘‘I called all the Blackburns in the book until I got his parents. I said I was FedEx trying to make a delivery, and his mother told me.’’

  I clenched and unclenched my hands. Jesse would have to speak to his mother, presuming he could catch her when she was sober.

  She said, ‘‘Nobody else knows I’m here. Truly. Evan, please.’’

  She was haggard. Her eyes had a black brilliance, but it was a gambler’s gleam, the shine that comes from betting everything on one last spin of the wheel.

  I said, ‘‘You have two minutes.’’

  ‘‘The Remnant is a house of lies. I know that now,’’ she said. ‘‘I’ve been a fool. Everything that’s happened . . . I’m sorry for it. Truly, totally sorry.’’

  The door swung open behind me. Luke stood in the doorway, hand on the knob. ‘‘Mommy?’’

  ‘‘Hi, sweet pea.’’

  My stomach gripped. I waited for the Mama Minx act, for her to offer him a saccharine smile and soft words. But to my astonishment she looked abject.

  She said, ‘‘How are you doing, honey?’’

  He shrugged. ‘‘Okay.’’ He walked out onto the porch. ‘‘How are you doing?’’

  ‘‘Not so hot.’’

  The moment stretched. She looked anguished, but I didn’t care. I put my arm around Luke’s shoulder. He gave her a bold, unfathomable stare.

  He said, ‘‘We have ferrets in the house.’’

  ‘‘Really. How weird,’’ she said. ‘‘Usually you get mice, or maybe possums.’’

  ‘‘Their names are Pip and Oliver, but Aunt Evvie won’t let me touch them.’’

  She looked bewildered. ‘‘She’s right. They’re probably filthy.’’

  His fingers gripped the tail of my shirt. ‘‘I’m staying with Aunt Evvie. I’m not going with you.’’

  Her face paled, down to her voluptuous lips. Her expression was one I’d waited nine months to see: shame. She blinked, she looked at her feet, she kneaded her hands together. I didn’t give her a breath of relief.

  Then she drew herself up. ‘‘What happened the last time I saw you, when I tried to get you to come with me . . .’’ Swallowing, she crouched down and looked him levelly in the eye. ‘‘It was a mistake. It was wrong. I’m sorry.’’

  Luke clung tightly to my side. He said nothing.

  ‘‘I won’t do it again.’’

  She looked up at me. Her eyes asked, Okay? I held on to Luke, not answering.

  She said, ‘‘Brian is innocent. I can prove it.’’

  I told her she’d better come inside.

  I said, ‘‘Tell me.’’

  ‘‘Brian is a scapegoat. Somebody else murdered Pastor Pete, and the church leadership knows it.’’

  ‘‘Who?’’

  She peered into the kitchen. ‘‘Can I have something to eat? I’m starved.’’

  ‘‘You have cartons of canned food in your garage at home.’’

  ‘‘I can’t go to my house. They’re watching it. I haven’t eaten since yesterday.’’

  She really was thin, and quite pale. Her collarbones were protruding. I steered her into the kitchen.

  The sight of the animal carrier stopped her. ‘‘Oh. Are those—’’

  ‘‘Ferrets. Don’t ask.’’

  I fixed her a plate, and she ate ravenously: the dinner leftovers, sandwiches, and a carton of milk. Luke sat across the table, watching her with reserved curiosity.

  ‘‘I snuck out of Angels’ Landing this morning with nothing but the clothes on my back. My money and ID is all in their lockbox. But I kept a car key hidden in my shoe, so I got to my car on the sly and booked out of there.’’

  Her hands shook as she shoveled bites into her mouth. ‘‘We’d been on war rations, anyway, ever since Pastor Pete died. Eating from Tribulation supplies only, to keep from getting any tainted food. In case the government contaminated the water supply or something, Chenille said. Nothing could affect our combat readiness.’’

  Her plate empty, she moistened a finger, dabbed crumbs with it, and licked them off.

  Luke said, ‘‘Is there going to be a war?’’

  ‘‘No,’’ I said.

  He looked at me. ‘‘Dad’s in jail. What would the carrier do, and his squadron?’’

  I reached across the table and took his hand. ‘‘There’s no war. The people we’re talking about like to use those words, but they’re being ridiculous.’’

  Tabitha’s cheeks had splotched red. ‘‘Sorry,’’ she said. ‘‘Luke, would you let me put on a video for you, while I talk to Aunt Evan?’’

  ‘‘Okay.’’

  He led her into the living room and showed her the VCR. They both looked painfully tentative. She started a movie and returned to the kitchen table.

  I said, ‘‘How can you prove Brian’s innocent?’’

  ‘‘Ice Paxton told me.’’ She ran a hand through her curls. ‘‘I’ve got to tell you from the start. Okay?’’

  ‘‘I won’t stop you.’’

  She took a breath and leaned forward, a confidante’s pose. ‘‘Chenille can’t stand me. It’s because she hates Brian. Totally, hysterically, absolutely hates him. And I’d been his wife.’’ She smiled sourly. ‘‘Of course, she didn’t act that way when I joined the church. She liked me because I’d left him.’’ She tilted her head. ‘‘You know she’s from China Lake, right? She knew Brian in high school.’’

  ‘‘I know.’’

  ‘‘It was almost the first thing she said, the day she and Shiloh knocked on my door. ‘Your name’s Delaney? I went to school with a guy named Delaney.’ And when I said we were getting divorced, she told me he’d always been a jerk—like she could commiserate with me.’’

  ‘‘Did you say she knocked on your door?’’

  ‘‘They were canvassing the neighborhood. Evangelizing. ’’

  Canvassing the mountain backroads? That sounded unlikely. Again I got the feeling that Chenille was orchestrating events, that she had been circling my family like a buzzard.

  She said, ‘‘But with him arrested, now she hates me too.’’

  Animosity toward Brian was only half of it. ‘‘Could she have been jealous of the atte
ntion Pastor Pete gave you?’’

  Her cheeks warmed, and she dropped her gaze.

  I said, ‘‘Tabitha, were you having an affair with Peter Wyoming?’’

  ‘‘No.’’ Her eyes snapped up. ‘‘Absolutely not. How could you think that? He was my pastor.’’

  She was physically recoiling from me. Could she really have been that oblivious to the situation? I thought not. She was either lying or embarrassed that I had noticed the attraction between them. But if Wyoming had been infected with rabies, and if she had been intimate with him, she was in danger.

  I said, ‘‘You have to tell me the truth.’’

  ‘‘No. Is that what people think? Did Chenille think that?’’ She put her hand over her mouth and let out a long, slow groan. ‘‘That’s why.’’

  ‘‘What?’’

  ‘‘Last night.’’ She ran her hands over her face, as though trying to scrub it. ‘‘She tried to give me away as a prize. She told Ice he could have me as a reward for vanquishing the Antichrist.’’ She pressed her fingers against her eyes. ‘‘She goes, ‘Do it right and she’s all yours, Ice.’ He looked me up and down with those cold eyes and said—’’ She stopped, composing herself, lowering her voice. ‘‘He said I had good ‘birthing hips.’ Pronounce that, piece of tail.’’

  I sat back. The spunk and spite in her voice more than anything convinced me that she truly had separated herself from the church.

  She said, ‘‘Chenille told him he couldn’t sample the goods. She’s issued this rule—no sex until the Tribulation is over. But she let him inspect me.’’

  Her hands had started shaking. ‘‘He took me to his trailer and stripped me and examined me, and I mean every last inch. He didn’t care what Chenille said; he was going to do it to me. . . .’’ Her eyes welled. ‘‘I tried to stop him, but he got on top of me and was trying to get his fly open, so I told him we couldn’t, because my divorce from Brian isn’t final and it would be adultery.’’

  Tears spilled down her cheeks. ‘‘He slapped me. Said an unholy marriage has no effect, that I was a backslider and a slut, that he was my master and I had to submit to his discipline. . . .’’

  I said, ‘‘Did he—’’

  ‘‘He couldn’t.’’ Her gothic, lost-belle face turned disdainful. Her eyes were acid. ‘‘I guess having a woman stand up to him just let all the air out of his tires. He called me a cock teaser, said if I ever defied him again I’d be punished. But he left me alone. So this morning I snuck out.’’

  She wiped her eyes. ‘‘And now they’ll think I’m a traitor. They’ll think I’ve gone over to the enemy, that I’m going to fight for Satan.’’

  I gave her a moment to settle down. ‘‘What’s Chenille planning on Halloween?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know. I wasn’t on the operational side.’’

  ‘‘I know they’re buying weapons.’’ She nodded. I said, ‘‘It’s military stuff, isn’t it?’’

  ‘‘Some, I think.’’ She pushed her lank curls out of her face. ‘‘Curt Smollek talked about getting hold of bayonets, flamethrowers if they could.’’

  Her equanimity was unnerving. Quietly I said, ‘‘How about biological weapons?’’

  ‘‘Maybe. Chenille talks about unleashing plagues upon the unsaved.’’

  Luke popped up, heaving himself over the back of the sofa. ‘‘Aunt Evvie, can we make popcorn?’’

  ‘‘Sure thing.’’ I got up to fix it, my motions robotic.

  Tabitha sat quietly, gazing at him. He said, ‘‘I’m going to the bathroom,’’ and her eyes followed him as he scooted from the room. I stood by the microwave while the popcorn rattled and clunked.

  I said, ‘‘Okay. What did Paxton tell you about Brian being innocent?’’

  She grabbed a napkin and blew her nose. ‘‘Last night he told me that if I didn’t submit to him, I could find myself getting blamed for Pastor Pete’s assassination. I said, ‘But Brian’s guilty.’ He goes, ‘Brian is guilty because the military is guilty. But if you defy me then you take the side of the enemy, and you become guilty too.’ ’’

  ‘‘ ‘Brian is guilty because the military is guilty.’ ’’

  ‘‘That’s what he said.’’

  ‘‘What did he mean?’’

  ‘‘That it didn’t matter who actually pulled the trigger.’’

  My pulse was racing. ‘‘Does he know who did?’’

  We heard the toilet flushing. She said, ‘‘Quick, before he comes back. There’s something else. Chenille didn’t have plans just for me. She has them for Luke, too.’’

  ‘‘What plans?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know, exactly. She has this . . . this fascination with him. It’s spooky.’’

  Luke appeared, pointing toward the front of the house. ‘‘I heard funny noises outside.’’

  Tabitha said, ‘‘You’re out in the boonies here. You always hear funny noises.’’

  Six-year-olds know condescension. His mouth went tight and he kept pointing.

  I said, ‘‘Let’s take a look.’’

  The microwave beeped. Tabitha said, ‘‘I’ll get the popcorn.’’

  He led me into the guest room. ‘‘Don’t turn the light on. It might run away if you do. It was coming from the bushes out there.’’

  ‘‘What did it sound like?’’

  ‘‘Like something in the bushes.’’ Duh.

  I listened, but heard nothing.

  He said, ‘‘Just wait.’’

  Together we sat on the bed, peering out the window into the dark. I heard the wind rustling the Monterey pines, and saw the bushes swaying. Mostly I sensed Luke’s warmth and energy next to me. His hair gleamed under the moonlight falling through the window. He had that soft, ineffably sweet young-child smell.

  He raised a finger. ‘‘There.’’

  Within the swaying bushes slid a shapeless form, dark on dark. Weightless and smooth against a backdrop of moonlit leaves, for a moment it took human shape. Gleam of metal, aiming skyward.

  My pulse exploded. It was a man with a gun.

  For a second I felt blank with panic. Then I said, ‘‘Get off the bed. Down here.’’

  The coldness in my voice took Luke aback. In the moonlight I saw his missing tooth and his wide eyes. I pulled him onto the floor, holding him tight.

  ‘‘You’re shaking, Aunt Evvie.’’

  The Remnant was coming. They had stalked Tabitha and were coming to take her back or to kill her. My breath caught. Or they were coming for Luke. Tabitha may not have left the church at all, but conned me. Either way, I had let her inside, let down my guard. The idiocy of it smacked me like a two-by -four.

  Think. I had to call the police. But the guest room had no phone. I could call from the kitchen, but if Tabitha was waiting to grab Luke that could be fatal. I’d have to call from Jesse’s bedroom.

  And I knew that the police couldn’t get here quickly enough. An armed man was outside; Tabitha was inside. I had to get Luke out of the house. Had to get away.

  Luke said in a tiny voice, ‘‘I’m scared.’’

  ‘‘Hold my hand.’’

  Tabitha’s car was parked on the drive, blocking my Explorer. We’d have to go on foot, reach a neighbor’s house, shelter there until the police arrived. The Rosenbergs lived eighty yards away, through the trees. We just had to get there. And there was the rub: Jesse’s house was largely glass, designed for three-hundred -and-sixty-degree views, and I hadn’t closed the blinds. They were open in the bedrooms, in the living room, in the kitchen, and along the thin decorative panes next to the front door. Once Luke and I left the darkened guest room, we’d be on display like targets in a shooting gallery.

  We couldn’t bolt. We had to play it cool.

  ‘‘Luke, listen to me carefully. I need you to do exactly as I tell you.’’

  He watched me, his chest rising and falling sharply.

  ‘‘We’re going to go to Jesse’s bedroom. Don’t say anything. If your mom talks
to us, I’ll answer,’’ I said. ‘‘You go into the bathroom, climb up on the counter, and open the window. And don’t turn on the light. That’s important. We’re going to climb out the window and go to the Rosenbergs’ house.’’

  His hand squeezed mine. ‘‘The bad people are here, aren’t they?’’

  I willed strength into my voice. ‘‘Yes. So we’re going to be brave.’’

  ‘‘Okay.’’

  ‘‘Come on.’’

  I stood up and led him into the hall and across the living room toward Jesse’s bedroom. I heard the microwave droning again, more popcorn popping. Trying to seem offhand, I turned my head toward the kitchen.

  Tabitha was leaning against the counter, watching the microwave. When she saw me she said, ‘‘I finished the first bag. Hope you don’t mind. I found some more."

  "No problem."

  Luke stared at her and then at me. His face was fraught.

  She said, ‘‘Everything okay?’’

  I kept heading toward Jesse’s door. ‘‘Just checking all the rooms for noises.’’

  She turned back to the microwave. Could she act so casual if she were about to attack us? Should I warn her? I had to decide, and I couldn’t afford to be wrong.

  Jesse’s bedroom was dark, but light from the living room spilled in. I didn’t want to close the door. Didn’t want to look suspicious.

  I whispered to Luke, ‘‘Be really quiet opening the window.’’

  He let go of my hand and went into the bathroom. I picked up the phone from the nightstand and dialed 911. I said, ‘‘There’s a prowler outside my house. He has a gun.’’ Without hanging up, I dropped the phone on the bed.

  Inside the bathroom Luke shuffled and huffed, pulling himself up onto the counter. The window slid open with a soft scritch. He stage-whispered, ‘‘Aunt Evvie, it’s open.’’

  ‘‘I’m coming.’’ I hurried toward the bathroom door.

  And heard Tabitha’s voice. ‘‘What’s going on?’’