by T. K. Malone
“The kid, he’s vanished,” Loser called back.
“What? Get the rest of them in the truck. Which way?” Loser pointed down the slope and into the trees, the way Saggers had gone.
Zac ran, pushing himself hard to catch up, then, in the poor visibility of the undergrowth, he almost ran into Saggers’ back. “Hannah,” the man shouted, ignoring Zac, “which way?”
Hannah shook her head, her eyes wide in alarm.
“Where the hell is the kid?” Zac demanded, but Saggers only shrugged before shouting “Clay!” at the top of his voice.
Zac did a doubletake. “What?” he almost spat.
“It’s his name.”
“What is?”
“Clay.”
“Clay?”
“Might not be the best time to tell you,” Hannah said, “but we think he’s your son.”
“My son?” and the world seemed to tumble crazily about Zac.
“His mother was a gridder called Teah. Ring any bells?”
“Teah?” Zac whispered, then he saw the boy walking toward him, what looked like a mouse in his outstretched hand.
“Sorry, mister,” the lad said. “It’s Trip’s mouse, Whistle. He ran off.”
Zac stood there, covered from head to foot in the soldier’s blood, and could only stare openmouthed at the boy.
Sitting by a well, Zac dropped a pebble into the water. They’d made a mad dash down the valley and holed up in a deserted farmhouse some way from the road for the night. Now Renshaw’s men had the track which led to it covered, the rest were asleep inside, something which had eluded Zac.
Teah was alive.
She’d become little more than a ghost in his mind, a beautiful dream, but one he’d accepted had ended. He saw her face now, her smile, her eyes as she gazed at him. And yet one day she’d just vanished, and now it looked like she’d had good reason.
How?
Wasn’t everyone within the city limits supposed to be sterile? Even the carnies? Hadn’t he been through the scraping himself, as it was called, which in reality was nothing more than an extraction and a pill. Wasn’t he, too, sterile? Yet Hannah had told him that Teah had said the kid was Zac’s, and he’d no reason to doubt the man.
He took his combats off and drew the bucket up, determined to scrub the young soldier’s blood from his skin. Now that he knew, he could see her looks in the boy called Clay. The particular way his smile curled up at the edges, the curve of his nose, the high cheekbones, all reminiscent of a woman he hadn’t seen in ten years. He tipped the bucket of water over his head and stared up at the night sky. “What a clusterfuck,” he muttered.
“Clusterfuck?” Laura’s voice spilled into his thoughts. “Smoke, Zac?”
“Yeah,” he said, slipping his fatigues back on.
“Hey, no need to cover up for me. We’re past that, Zac. Unless it’s off the table, now Teah’s alive.”
Zac felt the telltale tingle of adrenaline, but took a breath and let it subside. Accepting the smoke, he managed a smile. “It’s a strange, strange world.”
“That it is, Zac Clay; that it is.”
She sat on the wall of the well, taking a lug of her smoke and blowing it out in a funnel. “Listen,” she eventually said, “it’s a fucking apocalypse. Shit happens. Hey...” She smiled and pulled him close. “How were you to know a woman you haven’t seen for ten years was still alive and had your kid? How were you to know the impossible was possible? Hell, don’t beat yourself up. We had some fun.”
“That all it was?”
“Jesus, Zac, I’m letting you off the hook. Last thing I need now is some kinda complex love tryst.”
Zac backed away from her. It was exactly that easygoing manner which had hooked him in the first place; that smile. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve got a kid,” he muttered, tearing his eyes away from her, now pulling at his hair as he stamped the ground. “Why? Why, if she was pregnant, didn’t she tell me?”
“What happened?”
Zac placed his hands on her shoulders. “One day she was there, the next gone. Nothing, not a word. I asked Charm, asked him to find out, but he said he hadn’t heard a thing. A few days later, he said she’d gone AWOL, missing, but I knew, knew she was dead—at least I thought she was. Two days after she’d vanished, they lit the wastelands up—the drones, the stiffs—they were hunting something, and I assumed it was her.”
“But she survived,” Laura said.
“Which makes it…” Zac threw his smoke down. “It makes it worse,” he cried. “It means she ran away, didn’t want me, didn’t love me.”
“Not true, Zac.” Saggers’ voice rang out. “That’s just not true. She named the fuckin’ stars after you, never mind the kid.”
20
Zac’s Story
Strike time: plus 10 days
Location: Road to Aldertown
Loser pulled the truck up a mile shy of Morton. “Tracks,” he said, and pointed.
Noodle raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he said. “Is this the type of insightful conversation I’ve missed by being stuck in the back with all those stinking captives?” He turned to Zac. “Why am I in the front? You pissed Laura off?”
“It’s complicated,” Zac told him.
“Weren’t sayin’ it weren’t. So, what’s happened?”
“Teah’s alive.”
Noodle shrugged. “Thought Switch had told you that.”
“I said ‘Tracks’,” said Loser.
“Switch?” Zac rasped. “Yeah, he said that, but hell—fuck, Noodle—that boy in the back, he’s my son—Teah’s son.”
“Your—”
Zac nodded.
“Then why aren’t you in the back, or him up front with us?”
“I… I don’t know what to do.”
“Does he know he’s your son?” Noodle slapped his forehead. “Nearly confused myself there. What I’m trying to say is this: get your shit together, and quick, or else things are just going to get plain awkward.”
“Awkward?”
“Imagine meeting your old man for the first time, and he’s known about you for a couple of days and failed to mention it. Awkward.”
“There’s a load of motorbike tracks in the road,” Loser sighed.
“I get what you’re saying, Noodle.” Zac pulled out his pack of smokes and lit one. “But it’s a hell of a bad time.”
“We’re ten days into an apocalypse, Zac. I got news for you: there ain’t a good time.”
“So, you think I should just jump out, pull him outta the truck and say ‘Hi, Clay, I’m Zac, your dad—the same guy who was covered from head to foot in some soldier’s blood yesterday.”
“Clay?”
“Teah named him Clay.”
Noodle shrugged. “Yes, that’s exactly what I think you should do.”
“There are tire tracks in the road,” Loser muttered.
Zac and Noodle turned to him. “We know!” they both shouted.
“Then you’ll also know there’s only one club ‘round here with that many bikes.”
Zac looked over the ruins of Morton, Renshaw on one side, Saggers on the other.
“Told you,” Saggers said.
“Well, you’ve got the local knowledge,” Renshaw conceded.
Saggers had taken a back trail through the forest, and now they were hidden in the trees, watching for signs of life. Zac had talked with Saggers for a good while, but neither man could come up with a good way to introduce father and son. Renshaw shifted around to face Zac.
“Tell me,” he said, “if this is more than likely going to be your club, why are we hiding?”
Zac carried on staring at the lake. “Thing is, I had a bit of a falling out with them—a man named Nathan Grimes in particular. I’m just not so sure how…hospitable my welcome would be.”
“You beat the crap outta him, didn’t you?” Renshaw said.
Zac shrugged. “I tried.”
“Looks like two left down there.
” Saggers pointed to a pair of bikers walking along the shore. “Is that a shovel over the fat one’s shoulder?”
Zac grinned. “That there is a welcome sight. That there is Spritzer, and he’s about as close to a friend as I’ve got in that club.”
“Then why’s he still in it? Why’s he not with you and Noodle and that?” Saggers asked.
“Oh, I asked him to stick behind and keep an eye on everything.”
Renshaw nodded. “We’ll go back and get the others while you straighten things out.”
Saggers pushed himself up. “What if they come back?”
“Then,” Renshaw muttered, “the Clay boy will be looking for another father.” He, retreated, soon vanishing among the trees.
Zac took a deep breath, made to set off himself but then chose a smoke instead. His chat with Saggers hadn’t helped, though he was now sure he was a mighty fine man, and for some reason that counted for something. He’d shed little light on Teah’s flight from Black City; either he was keeping that to himself or he plain didn’t know. Zac was erring toward the latter, but he’d also recognized the name ‘Lester’ which had cropped up more than once. Although he couldn’t recall why, he mulled it over while he smoked his smoke.
What the hell was Grimes doing up here? Wasn’t their brief to look after Christmas, possibly Sendro Verde—or the correctional? Zac jumped up, smoke in hand, and scrambled down the slope.
By the time he’d crossed the road, skirted the ruins of the bar and was walking along the shore, Spritzer and his companion were nearing a cabin at the end of the lake. But Zac was in no hurry; it would take about half an hour for the truck to catch up. He would, though, have to have a word with Spritzer; the dumbass hadn’t even spotted him yet.
Zac watched the two men stop, Spritzer plunging the spade into the ground, then they walked around the back of the cabin. As Zac ambled nearer, they dragged out what looked like a body, which they dropped beside the spade before Spritzer began to dig a hole. At no time did either men notice Zac, not until he was no more than twenty feet from them.
“Zac?” said Spritzer, his face plastered with confusion.
“Need to keep them eyes peeled, Spritzer. I could’ve been anyone. Who’s your friend?”
“Zac?” Spritzer dumbly repeated. “That really you? I know that’s you, but darn it, you just dressed like an army boy. You lose your colors?”
“I know where they are. Your friend?”
“New patch. From Christmas. Jimmy, meet Zac Clay,” but Jimmy just stared at Zac.
He had that kind of stance which told Zac he had swagger—or thought he had—and he wore his colors like they would do his fighting for him.
“Jimmy,” Zac said, offering his hand, but Jimmy continued just staring at him.
“Ain’t you the one who upped and buggered off to form your own club?” Jimmy eventually said.
Zac began to smile, but as the man’s words sank in they caught him up short, “And you a new patch,” he said, gritting his teeth.
“Just cos I’m new don’t mean I’m green.” He squared up to Zac. “Now, you wouldn’t happen to know what happened to Nate and Max, would you?”
Zac stepped up to Jimmy, nose-to-nose, staring him out. “Been a bit busy for that, son. Been busy getting shot at and the like, just trying to find my brother.”
“Brother?”
“Connor.”
Jimmy blinked and took a step back. “He supposed to be around here?”
Zac nodded, flicking a glance at Spritzer. The big man shrugged. “Yeah,” Zac said, eventually.
“Then you best come and look at this.” Jimmy turned his back on Zac and walked away.
“What’s his deal?” Zac asked Spritzer.
“Talk shit about Grimes all you want, but I’ll be damned if he don’t manufacture a loyal prospect or two.”
“I can hear you, Spritzer. Remember…” Jimmy shouted out.
“Remember?” Zac queried.
“I’m in the doghouse fer speaking up fer you. Technically, he’s in charge o’ me.”
“That why you diggin’ the hole?”
Spritzer smirked. “Nah, I freakin’ love diggin’ holes; what do you think?”
Zac smiled, shook his head and wandered off after Jimmy, who was now standing by a tree, at which he was pointing. “Freshly carved by the folk who killed Nate and Max. One of them’s called Connor—not the most common name in these parts.”
“Nine million names have become less common over the last few days.” Zac bent, looking closely at the carvings. “Molly, Sticks, Gino, Connor, Kenny and…” Zac shook his head. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“What is it?” Jimmy asked, his shadow falling over Zac.
Zac looked up at the man, now standing over him, gun in hand.
“I said, what is it?”
Inclining his head, Zac decided he liked Jimmy. The boy had stones. “I’ll tell you what, Jimmy. I’ll tell you exactly ‘What it is’, if you’d be so kind as to put your hands up.”
Jimmy grinned. “And why should I—”
Behind Jimmy, Spritzer slotted a cartridge into the chamber of his pump-action.
Jimmy dropped his gun and put his hands up. “Well?” he then asked.
Zac picked up the handgun, spun it around his finger for a moment then threw it a few feet away. “The last name: it belongs to a customer of mine. Now, as I said, nine million names just got rarer—”
“Nope,” said Jimmy. “That don’t add up. That’d mean every one of them there gridders had a different name—can’t see that. Let’s just say there are fewer floating around.”
“Granted,” Zac had to allow. “So, tell me, just how many Byrons can you see still existing?”
Jimmy shook his head. “I’ll grant you that, too: not many.”
“And Connors?”
“Again, not many.”
“What if I told you, along with my brother, a man named Byron Tuttle used to frequent my bar?” Jimmy was sweating now, the morning sun shining down on him. But it wasn’t fear; Zac knew that. “I think you can lower your gun, Spritzer. We cool, Jimmy?” Jimmy nodded.
“So, what we’ve got,” Jimmy said, “is a group of gridders going around slittin’ our boys’ throats.”
“’Cept gridders are all s’posed to be dead. Even if they ain’t, they don’t go around slitting folks' throats—unless they learned a whole new skillset in the last few days.”
“True that, and we’ll know soon enough. Nathan’s mighty riled his namesake’s gone and got himself murdered—taken it quite personal, like.”
Zac straightened. “He’s fixing on revenge?”
“What do you think, Zac?” Spritzer said.
“Which way?”
“They’ve gone up the valley, but there ain’t no point chasing them; got a night’s start and a couple of hours.”
“They got bikes—the gridders?”
Spritzer shrugged. “Not as far as I know.”
“But you have.”
“Didn’t say Grimes wouldn’t catch them. Just thinkin’ he probably already has.” Spritzer’s gaze became distracted, back along the lakeshore in the direction of Morton. “Friends of yours?” he asked. “Say, is that Noodle?”
Zac followed his gaze. Sure enough, the truck had pulled up, Noodle, Loser and Billy already out and running toward them.
“Say, Jimmy,” said Zac, “think you might need your gun now?”
Jimmy shrugged. “You ain’t gonna kill me fer bein’ loyal to Grimes.”
“Nope, but I am gonna borrow your bike.”
Jimmy reared up. “Nope, I don’t think you are.”
“Jimmy…” Spritzer began, but Jimmy was already facing off Zac again.
“I’ll give you a ride,” he said, “but you ain’t gonna take my bike.”
Noodle skidded to a halt. “We gotta a problem here, Zac?” He looked around. “Who killed Nate and Max?” Noodle stared inquiringly at Spritzer. “Am I missing something,
Spritzer?”
Jimmy revved his bike, Zac jumped on behind him. Loser and Saggers led on Spritzer’s bike. It had been Saggers idea—said he knew where they’d hide if it was in Aldertown. As before, Saggers veered off the road about a mile from their destination and directed Loser through the forest. He soon signaled for them all to stop.
Stooping down, he drew a map in the loose soil. “This here’s the river, Aldertown to one side. Assuming what you said is true, only my place will be standing. It’s a few hundred yards outta town and probably looked derelict on account of it already falling down.”
“That is, if they’re anywhere near here,” Loser pointed out.
“Ain’t nowhere else to go. You said they got soldiers with them?” He shrugged. “Then they’ll aim for the preppers. ‘Sides, I can smell ’em.”
“Smell ’em?” Jimmy asked.
“Wind’s coming down the valley, carryin’ all their sweat ’n grease ’n oil. C'mon, we got a little trek ahead of us.”
Saggers walked off, and Zac fell in beside him, the others not far behind.
“You seem to be takin’ all this in your stride,” Zac said.
Saggers took a deep breath, appearing to collect his thoughts. “Truth is…” he said. “Truth is, I’m feelin’ a bit in your debt, Zac.”
“My debt?”
“Hell, from what I surmise, if you hadn’t knocked up Teah, I’da never met her, never met Clay, and probably still be in that stockade…or dead. It was Teah who got us all in the basement.”
“Yeah?” Zac skipped a step to keep up with him. “What else she been up to?”
“Aww,” said Saggers, “I can’t tell you all that.”
“Why not?”
“Cos she’ll wanna tell you herself, someday.”
Saggers jogged off, ending the conversation. He moved easily through the forest, and Zac followed in his footsteps, keeping to his rhythm. It was going to take a while for him to get used to the country. The ground had too much give, too many slopes and slips. He envied Saggers. The man had known Teah a whole load more time than he had. The man had seen her more recently, too. He was clearly in love with her—no, that wasn’t quite right, he was in awe of her. Zac wondered what the badass stiff from Black City had been up to.
