Thunder Road

by Thorne, Tamara

  “That’s exactly what I needed to hear,” Alex said, her embarrassment lessening the slightest bit. “You really are a mindreader, Carlo.” Caught in long-suppressed passions, Alex had virtually raped the man. In the beginning, at least. She had pandered to his professed skin fetish, dripping candle wax over her palm and asking him to peel it off. He tried to resist and she had been ready to go further, to dribble the hot wax on her abdomen or breasts to make him lose control. Thank heaven; the palm was enough. They left the fetish behind soon after, becoming caught up in lovemaking that had lasted far longer than either had realized. “No regrets,” she murmured as she leaned forward to kiss him.

  His hands found her hips and worked their way up her back as he met her kiss. The kiss began gently, with soft explorations, then the passion overtook them both once more and they held one another as if they were saying good-bye forever.

  Breathless, Carlo finally pulled back. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

  “The same thing you do to me.”

  He shook his head. “Alex. I have secrets. Things no one, no one, knows. Things that I can’t talk about. You’re playing with fire.”

  “We all have secrets.”

  “Not like mine.”

  She kissed him lightly. “I don’t care if you’re wanted for murder, Carlo.” She saw him turn pale, even in the deceitful glow of the sodium lamp, but she pressed on. “I feel safe with you. More than that, Carlo, it’s the first time in my life I’ve ever felt truly free. And accepted.”

  Holding her shoulders, he studied her. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

  “I always mean what I say.”

  “Alex, you make me feel the same way, but I have to warn you again. I’m not what I appear to be.”

  “I’ll take my chances. Now, I’d better get going before Eric gets flooded out of the canyon.”

  “Be careful, Alexandra.”

  “I will.”

  As she pulled out of the parking lot, thunder shook the Bronco’s windows and a ragged finger of lightning struck up on Thunder Road. Immediately a barrage of water hit so hard that the windshield wipers could barely keep up. It drove all thoughts of romance from her mind.

  Doggedly she drove up Old Madelyn, telling herself the lightning had taller things to hit than her truck. It took a full ten minutes to make the junction, and as she turned toward Spirit Canyon she refused to think about the possibility of flash floods or landslides. She had to pick up Eric. He was depending on her.

  Twenty minutes passed before she pulled onto the treacherous trail leading to the campsite. Blessedly, the pounding rain eased off, enabling the wipers to handle the steady downpour. She drove into the campsite and pulled up close to the overhang, relieved that Eric had packed up, guilty that he’d had to do it all alone.

  “Eric?” she called, jumping out of the truck and running under the rocky shelter. “Eric? I’m here!” Behind the cooler and the equipment boxes, two duffels were still open, and she zipped them up quickly. “Eric!” she yelled, trying to be heard over the thunder and rain. All she could think of was her old partner, Jack Matthews, and how he had disappeared from their New Mexican campsite. How the hell could she have been so selfish? How could she leave Eric alone for so long?

  Don’t panic yet! Quickly she opened the back of the truck and began haphazardly throwing everything in, yelling for Eric until she was hoarse, her anxiety growing by the second.

  Someone gave him a ride! The realization struck her like a bullet. You idiot! You should have thought of that in the first place! She’d forgotten to leave the cellular phone with him, so he couldn’t let her know in advance, and if he’d left a note, it probably blew away already. She doubted he’d been gone long, and he must have assumed she’d pick up the gear, then meet him. But where?

  By now, he might have phoned Carlo. Quickly she found his number and punched it into the phone. Just as quickly, she found out that Carlo hadn’t heard from him.

  She turned the truck around and began the hazardous journey back out of Spirit Canyon. Who would pick him up? Maybe that ever-present annoyance, Justin Martin? Moss Baskerville? Tom? Any number of people could have come by. Dole? The thought turned her stomach to ice because someone like Dole probably got Jack.

  With the rain falling lightly, she made it back to Thunder Road in only fifteen minutes. By then she had calmed down and decided that Eric would likely try to meet her at Ray’s Cafe. He was probably there now, wolfing down one of his beloved cheeseburgers while he waited for her.

  Old Madelyn Highway was obviously built in a dry creek bed, and she silently thanked the powers that be for the invention of four-wheel drive as she sloshed and bounced down the road. At one point a monstrous pothole nearly took out her right front tire, but the wheel bounced free. Passing Madland, she saw that the gate, which normally kept traffic off Main Street, was wide open. Lights were on at some of the shops and a few vehicles were parked in front of them. She caught a glimpse of two people unloading sandbags near the gate by the arena, and it finally sunk in that this storm was a real hazard.

  The rain picked up again just as the Bronco hit asphalt on the outskirts of New Madelyn. She turned the wipers up as high as they would go, but they did almost nothing. Water had already overflowed the gutters, but she didn’t concern herself. The important thing was that she had made it to town safely.

  Finally she pulled into Ray’s Truck Stop and parked as close as she could—five rows back—to the restaurant. The place was teeming with truckers and other travelers waiting out the storm, and as she pushed open the café door, she saw that she wasn’t the only one who looked like a drowned rat; nearly everyone in the restaurant was soaked to the skin. Except for the Apostles, no one in the desert ever carried umbrellas.

  She counted three waitresses, plus Rosie Vine, rushing around trying to keep up with business. They didn’t notice her, so she darted up the first aisle of tables, scanning for Eric. Then, crossing the short rear section where she and Eric had sat before, she came face-to-face with Lawrence Dole as he rose from his table.

  “Colonel Dole,” she said coolly.

  He nodded, inspecting her with his grim little pig eyes. Then one comer of his mouth crooked up in a cross between a smile and a sneer. “Looking for unidentified flying objects, Miss Manderley?”

  “That’s Doctor Manderley, and I’m looking for my assistant, Eric Watson. Perhaps you’ve seen him?”

  “Afraid not.”

  He started to step around her, but she blocked his path. “You’re certain?” she asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  She let him go past, then continued her circuit of the diner, finally coming to the counter seating. He was nowhere to be found.

  “How’re you doing, Alex?” Ray Vine, in his chef’s whites, came out from behind the order window.

  “Fine, Ray. But I’m looking for Eric.”

  “The tall boy with the red hair?”

  She smiled. “That’s him. Have you seen him tonight?”

  “No, I haven’t,” he replied after thinking a moment. “Have you checked the tavern?”

  “No, but Eric doesn’t drink.”

  “What’s he driving?”

  “Nothing. I think someone picked him up while I was away from camp.”

  Ray crossed his arms. “Hmmm. We’ve got flash flood warnings, so Moss might’ve sent someone after him. Check at the police station, and if they don’t know, talk to Tom. He knows everything.” Ray chuckled. “And if he doesn’t, he’ll make it up.”

  Rosie Vine bustled up and snapped the order slip onto a clip by the order window. “Ray, I need six cheeseburger platters! Hi, Alex,” she added, turning to go back into battle.

  “Rosie,” Ray called. “Ask the waitresses if they’ve seen a tall, carrot-topped young man here tonight, will you?”

  She nodded and disappeared, then breathlessly returned about a minute later. “No one like that’s been in here.”

  “Thanks,�
�� Alex said as she headed for the door.

  “No problem. You be careful out there.”

  “I will.”

  The rain wasn’t so bad as she pulled from the lot and drove up the street to police headquarters. There, the clerk tried to raise Moss Baskerville on the radio, but the storm was playing hell with the radios, and the best he could do was take her report and promise to get back to her.

  While she was running back to the Bronco, the rain stopped and a slice of moon appeared from behind glowing clouds. Heartened, she decided to follow Ray Vine’s advice and go see Tom Abernathy.

  85

  Tom Abernathy

  TOM ABERNATHY STOOD BACK TO LET THE SOGGY SCIENTIST INTO his house. “Doc, what are you doing out in this weather?”

  “Looking for Eric.” Alex looked down at the puddles forming around her shoes on the terra-cotta tile. “I’m sorry.”

  “No problem. Wait right there.” He disappeared, then returned almost instantly with a towel. Gratefully she began drying her hair.

  “I saw Eric a couple hours ago,” Tom told her. “Marie and I rode up to your camp and left some samples with him.” He told her about the sheep and Marie’s near run-in with the military types.

  “They got him, those bastards got him.”

  “What?”

  She explained briefly, then studied Tom. “I ran into Dole at Ray’s a few minutes ago, but he claimed he hadn’t seen Eric.”

  “Well, I’d guess he was lying. When I was riding home from Marie’s, two vehicles came along. The second was Dole’s and he nearly ran Belle off the road.”

  “What about the first one?”

  “I don’t know if it came out of the canyon or not. It had its lights out and it was a car, but that’s all I can tell you.” He paused. “You think Dole took the samples?”

  “I’ll have to go through the bags, but if they’re gone, I’m sure he did,” Alex told him.

  “Think he took Eric too?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised. Damn it, this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have left him alone.” She paused. “It’s not raining now. I’m going up to the canyon to take one more look around.”

  “It’s too dangerous to go up there, Alex. You’ve never seen a flash flood in the desert, have you?”

  “I can’t leave him up there, Tom.” She smiled. “I’ll be fine. In and out just like that.”

  “Well, I guess I can’t stop you, but I wish I could. Did you check the motels in town?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Come on, we’ll do that first.” He took her to the kitchen phone and let her do the calling. Finally she put the receiver down. “Eric hasn’t checked in anywhere. Thanks for your help, Tom. I’d better go before it starts raining again.”

  Reluctantly he led her to the door and opened it. It was blacker than pitch out there, except where the moon glowed dimly behind a cloud, and the air felt heavy with water. “Be careful,” he told her, “then come on back here if you like.”

  “Thanks, Tom. We will if we can’t get a motel room.”

  He watched her drive away. First Marie wouldn’t accept his help, and now Alex wouldn’t listen to his advice. An ornerier pair of females had never lived. He glanced northward, hoping Marie was safe from Dole and from the rain, then put a tape of The Searchers in his VCR. But even John Wayne couldn’t quite get his mind off his troubles.

  86

  Justin Martin

  EVEN IF THAT NERDFACE ERIC WATSON HADN’T BEEN QUITE DEAD when Justin buried him in a shallow depression under a half dozen shovelfuls of damp dirt, he surely was by now—if not from suffocation, then by drowning.

  Killing Eric had been a spur-of-the-moment thing and, in retrospect, probably unnecessary. Justin smiled to himself as he hauled another sandbag out of Marquay’s storage shed next to the mine ride and threw it in the wheelbarrow. He had only one regret: It was too bad he had to dump another perfectly good body. But tonight there just wasn’t any time, and now that he had his rabbit’s-foot key chain back, he was more interested in what Carlo and Alex Manderley were doing than slicing up the nerdman.

  But when Justin had returned to Madland, the gates were open and the shopkeepers were sandbagging. At first he was annoyed, then he realized the activity gave him more freedom to move around without drawing attention to himself.

  Passing by Main Street, he turned in to the parking lot instead and found Manderley’s truck was already gone. Shit! He pulled around to Main, then drove toward the mine, where, sure enough, Old Man Marquay was lugging the heavy sandbags out, huffing and puffing like he was going to rupture the veins sticking out on his neck and temples. Seeing Justin, he proclaimed him a wonderful boy. Justin gave him a line of shit about how he wished he’d been here sooner, and the old fart lapped it up. Before the last big downpour began, Marquay had gone gratefully home, leaving Justin to finish the work by himself, which was exactly what he wanted.

  He shoved the last bag in place, then locked the shed and returned to the Mustang. As he opened the door he saw that nearly everyone had gone now, and the few remaining were finishing up.

  He slid into the driver’s seat and pulled the door closed, then extracted his gift to the Peeler from its hiding place beneath the seat. Quickly he penned a note and attached it to the square of skin with a silver safety pin, then folded it all and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

  He climbed from the car and walked down to Main Street to the Sorcerer’s Apprentice. The shop was dark except for a faint glow emanating from somewhere in the rear. Casually he stepped onto Pelegrine’s porch and padded softly to the front door.

  What to do, what to do, what to do? He had no way to attach the skin to the door, so he finally draped it over the doorknob for the Peeler to find in the morning. After that, he walked purposefully back to his car and drove away.

  87

  Alexandra Manderley

  AS ALEX TURNED ONTO THUNDER ROAD, SHE NOTICED A STRANGE circular opening had appeared in the thick clouds, allowing her to see the stars beyond. She’d never seen anything quite like it, and by the time she entered Spirit Canyon, it had doubled in size. Though she wanted to watch it, she forced herself to keep her eyes on the winding, muddy road.

  Expecting the rain to begin again, she traveled as quickly as she dared, and as she rounded a hairpin curve near the turnoff, her instrument panel flickered twice, then went out. “Damn,” she whispered, tapping it with her fingertips. A second passed and the truck began shaking.

  Above, the clouds had taken on an eerie greenish glow. Abruptly the headlights went out and the engine died.

  “What the hell’s going on?” she whispered, trying vainly to restart the engine. Realizing the Bronco wasn’t going anywhere, she opened the door and stepped out to study the sky.

  “My God,” she breathed. The huge UFO hovered in the now enormous circle of open sky, so low, it nearly scraped the mountaintops. Head tilted back, she held her breath and took in the dark craft, the size of a football field, at least. Except for three concentric ovals of blue and green lights, she could see no details: It seemed to be a void, a black hole in space.

  Alex’s brain clicked in and she quickly climbed in the Bronco and pulled out the Minicam bag, unzipping it as fast as she could. She brought the camera up as she swung out of the car, but its charge light flickered and went out. “Damn!” She turned to get the thirty-five-millimeter camera, but before she could grab it, the truck began to vibrate and she looked back up just as the blue-green lights on the UFO winked twice. Then the craft, or whatever it was, began to rise slowly, straight into the sky. When it was perhaps a thousand feet up, it remained stationary for a moment, then whisked away to the west at an impossible speed. In a split second it disappeared. “What are you?” she whispered. “Who are you?”

  The headlights and dash lights flickered to life as the clouds around the circular hole began to swirl closed. Alex started the engine, drove cautiously to the turnoff, and parked at the side of the road. T
he earth was too waterlogged now to risk driving the trail.

  Rain began falling lightly as she got out of the truck, and as she pulled on her trench coat, cursing because she had forgotten to buy an umbrella in town, the cellular phone rang. She grabbed it. “Eric?”

  “This is Moss Baskerville. My clerk told me you were looking for me. Sorry it took so long. We’re having one hell of a busy night. Your assistant disappeared?”

  “Yes.” Quickly she recounted the night’s events.

  “Where are you now?”

  “In Spirit Canyon, just outside the camp.” As she spoke, the rain fell harder.

  “Christ.” Baskerville paused. “Did you see that UFO a while ago?”

  “yet.”

  “The whole town blacked out while it was visible.” Baskerville’s voice crackled with static. “Cars, buildings, streetlights, everything. I thought we were having an earthquake until I looked up and saw that damned thing glowing in the clouds. Now we’ve got several wrecks to deal with on top of everything else. You’re not stuck, I hope?”

  “No. I’m fine. I’m just going to walk to the campsite and take one more look for Eric.”

  “No,” he ordered sternly. “It’s not safe. Like as not, you’ll get covered in a landslide. There’s no ground cover holding those hills together, and we have slides nearly every time it rains. Best thing you can do is get out of there now. And I mean pronto!”

  As he spoke, the rain poured suddenly, as if a plug had been pulled in the sky. Alex climbed back into the truck and shut the door. “Moss, there’s one other thing. We received some samples from a sheep mutilation. Eric did, that is. Tom Abernathy delivered them and later he saw Colonel Dole racing out of the canyon. I have a feeling Eric’s disappearance and Dole’s visit are tied together. Can you find out?”

  There was a long silence. “I can try. Where are you going to be if I need to reach you?”

  “I’m not sure.” She had to yell to be heard over the rain pounding on the Bronco. “But you can reach me at this number anytime.”