by Bella Street
Images of home and work and shoes flickered in her mind, but failed to ease her guilt. Her friendships were in jeopardy. She and Addison were on the outs, and Gareth...well, she might as well have stabbed him in the back. Lani would always be there because she had an affinity for strays.
Seffy sighed. If she got back to L.A., what would she find? Would she still have a house? Was Verity alive? Would Bruno from the hair salon remember her? She might've believed this was all a dream if it weren't for her torn and stained Juicy Couture track suit. That was a reality she couldn't very well deny.
Her legs started to cramp so she got up. What are the plans now? Another safe house or some compound? How can we get there if disco peeps are outside and Malone only has a few shells left? I certainly don't remember the lyrics to any 70s songs. Seffy looked around. Can't stay here. The smell was horrible and would only get worse, what with a decomposing body and all. Oh, for a breath of fresh air.
In more ways than one.
She went to the metal door and pressed her ear against it, listening for sounds of activity outside. The metal was almost warm against her cheek, which grossed her out. She stood back and looked toward the basement door. When would the others come up here and tell her the plan? Did it matter? She had no control over her situation. What she thought she had had been taken away.
Taken. Just like everything else.
A sudden knock on the metal door made her let out a little scream. Seffy stared at the latch, watching with horrific fascination as it rattled. She backed away from the door, her eyes growing wide. Had she imagined it? Too much had happened lately, blurring the lines between what was real and what wasn't to be able to tell the difference.
Seffy jumped at the sound of static coming from behind. She turned and saw Malone emerge from the stairwell with the walkie talkie.
“I'm coming to unlock it right now.”
Guess it's real.
She stared at him in awe as he strolled to the door and unlocked the bolt. Gareth appeared at her side, with the others close behind.
“He apparently found some fresh batteries,” he said, his voice tinged with suspicion.
“So he contacted someone?”
Gareth shrugged, looking as mystified as she was.
“That's good news, right? Help is here?”
“It's a set up,” Trent growled from the back.
Malone removed the bolt and swung the door open. Outside were three men, all in the same coveralls, all with badges...and all with machine guns pointed into the room. As they advanced in, everyone except Malone took several steps back.
“Well, well,” said the man in front. His fuzzy brown hair contrasted with his pale blue eyes. He grinned as his gaze swept the group, revealing a gap between his middle teeth. “So, Malone, you weren't kidding.”
Addison frowned. “You know this guy?”
Malone ignored her and fished in his pocket for something. He pulled out Gareth's cell phone and tossed it to the man.
“Hey! That's mine!”
The man lifted his gun at Gareth when he made a move to grab the phone. He studied the cell, his brows drawn into a heavy frown. Pressing several buttons, he inadvertently took a picture, muttering at the result. He raised his eyes to Gareth. “Where did you get this?”
“At the Verizon store, what do you think? Give it back. There may be service here.”
“I told you, Popov, they kept talking about cell service.”
“Popov?” Seffy whispered to Gareth. He didn't sound Russian. More Jerseyish than anything.
The man pocketed the phone and returned his malevolent attention to the group.
“And this here is the one I was telling you about.” Malone grabbed Seffy's arm and yanked her forward.
“Hey!” she said, trying to tug free.
“Hey,” Gareth echoed, “let her go!”
Popov stabbed the air with his gun in Gareth's direction. “I'm the one giving orders around here. Malone, the girl.”
“Money first,” Malone said.
“I told you it was a set up!” Trent hollered.
Popov's eyes narrowed. “There's been a change in the terms. All of them for the original amount.”
Malone shook his head. “No way. Four for the girl or five large for them all. Pay up or no deal.”
“Why is Seffy worth more than everyone else?” demanded Addison.
“Malone,” the man said in a mock conciliatory tone, “where you gonna spend that kind of money out here in the desert, eh?”
“I gotta restock all the safe houses.”
Popov looked back at the two men who flanked him, their expressions impassive and dangerous. Popov faced Malone again. “There are three of us, armed with automatics, and you with your little hunting rifle. I think you'll take three for everyone and we all walk away happy.”
Malone ruminated for a moment then spit on the ground near Popov's booted foot. “Deal. They're getting on my nerves anyway.”
“You know, you're not such great company yourself,” Seffy growled as his grip tightened. “Ouch! Let go of me, you troglodyte!”
Popov opened a flap on the chest front of his coveralls and pulled out a brown envelope, which he tossed to Malone. Malone grabbed the envelope, and dropping Seffy's arm, opened it to rifle though a stack of bills.
“You. Get over here.”
Seffy knew he was talking about her. Gareth stepped in front of her. “I don't think so.”
Popov aimed the gun at the ceiling and fired off several rounds, making sheet rock dust rain down over their heads. “Let's go!”
Gareth looked back at the group and signaled they should all proceed as one. He grabbed Seffy's hand and stretched out his other arm. Lani and Addy took hold of him and together they took a step toward the door. Malone eased back, letting them pass. Seffy shot him stink-eye and noticed Lani reaching out to him.
“Malone, what's happening? Why aren't you coming with us?”
“Sorry, peaches.”
Her blue eyes filled with tears as Gareth pulled her along.
“Now!”
Popov went outside, and motivated by the sight of three tough guys with machine guns, they had no choice but to follow. The sun still shone pink, and at this point, there was something almost soothing in it. Until she saw the dozen or so corpses splattered all over the ground.
“Wait a minute,” Malone said in a hard voice. “We found Anatole locked here in the safe house with a bunch of zombies. Know anything about that?”
“Yeah, what of it?”
Malone subjected Popov to his uber-chilly eyes. “What happened?”
“Anatole went off the reservation.”
“The only way he'd do that is if he was betrayed.”
Popov lowered the rifle and pulled the trigger. “He was.” Malone let out a garbled cry and fell onto the ground, holding his leg.
Lani flew to his side. Blood oozed from between his fingers and dripped onto the ground. Malone lasered Popov with a venomous glare. “This isn't over.”
The gunman looked unconcerned. “I think it is. And in a few minutes, you'll have some new friends to deal with.” He turned to everyone else. “Now move it or you'll be joining Malone here.”
“We can't leave him,” Lani cried. “He'll become a zombie!”
Gareth dropped Seffy's and Addison's hands and went to her. “C'mon. We have to go.”
“No! Malone saved our lives!”
“Only to sell us out,” Trent said.
“Malone,” Lani said with tears in her eyes, “is that true?”
Trent snorted. “Um, 'peaches', you just watched it happen.”
Malone looked at Lani for a moment, his expression softening perceptibly. Then he grabbed her and kissed her hard on the mouth. When he released her, Lani eyes managed to grow even larger.
Popov appeared, using the muzzle of the machine gun to part them, then reached down and took back the packet of money. Lani began to sob. Gareth put his arm around he
r and coaxed her forward. She glared at Popov. “I hope he finds you and bites you!”
Seffy shivered at the unusual rage in her friend's tone. She looked at Malone, who sat breathing hard and staring at Popov with pure hatred.
The other two gunman came up behind their group, urging them forward. Lani cried into Addison's shoulder as they left Malone behind.
Seffy felt shell-shocked. To be left for dead. It was so cold, so horrific to leave him at the savage mercy of confused and hungry...dancers. She hoped he knew a lot of disco hits.
“Shhh,” murmured Gareth to Lani. “Malone is very resourceful. If anyone can get out of this, he can.”
“Shut up,” Popov said in a bored voice.
They walked up and over a rise. Seffy stumbled when she saw two army jeeps. On the side was a faded logo matching the patches on the gunmens arms. “What's Fugere?”
Silence.
“Where are we going?” Gareth asked. Popov ignored him.
Seffy looked behind her at the others. Trent's bored expression shone though the sweat on his face, Jared looked terrified, and the other girls seemed too tired to care. She turned back and addressed Popov. “Any chance we're going to L.A.?”
The man grinned, his gap-toothed smile ludicrous under the circumstances. “Little lady, we're going where someone wants to meet you.”
Chapter Fourteen
They climbed into the jeep in silence except for Popov's barked orders and Lani's muffled sobs. Jared and the new girls went with one of the gunmen to his jeep, while Seffy and the others were with Popov and the second thug. They held on tight to the sides when Popov mashed the gas pedal and lurched forward in the sand. Seffy looked back but the hill soon blocked any view of the safe house or Malone.
Details swam in her mind but she couldn't gather them together into anything rational. Malone was left to be eaten, Popov worked for somebody who knew about them, and she still didn't know how she'd ended up in Montana in the first place.
After at least an hour of bouncing in a jeep without shock absorbers, Addy, sitting with her arm around the hunched figure of Lani, tapped a spot of rust near her arm. “This jeep looks ancient. Maybe this mysterious person who wants to meet you is a cheapskate.”
Seffy stared at her with weary annoyance. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I don't know if he's cheap but I'm pretty sure he's ruthless.” Gareth lowered his voice over the roar of the grinding engine. Seffy and Addison leaned closer. “Those guns are Kalashnikovs.”
“Does that mean 'old' in Russian?” Seffy asked.
“No, they're AK-47s, invented by the Soviets.”
Seffy furrowed her brow. “Anatole and Popov sound Russianish, don't they?”
He nodded. “I'm thinking there must be some separatist Russian group here. Maybe some old Soviet die-hards.”
“Malone sounds more Irish than separatist,” Seffy said.
Addy pursed her lips. “None of them have Russian accents.”
“That's true.” Gareth scratched his head. “Makes it doubtful the Russians have somehow invaded the United States.”
“Oooh,” said Trent from behind. “Like in Red Dawn. No doubt your favorite movie.”
Seffy turned. “Do you always have to be nasty?”
“Actually Red Dawn was an awesome movie,” Gareth said, distracted.
“Hello, The Devil Wears Prada was an awesome movie,” Seffy corrected, alarmed her friend was flying his freak flag again.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Addison mocked.
“But if they're not Russian,” Gareth said, “maybe they're communists and changed their names to reflect the Russian Homeland.”
“It's called the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics,” Popov yelled from the driver's seat.
“Well, not anymore,” Addison said back. “Besides, why would it be socialist and republic when it was actually a communist country?”
“Yeah, didn't the Soviet Union collapse when that wall came down?” Seffy grimaced. “Or was that about the whole east and west German thing? I get those two mixed up.”
“The Soviet Union will never fall!”
“Uh oh, ix-na iracle-ma o-na ice-na,” Trent said.
Gareth ignored him. “The Berlin Wall was the final death blow to the Iron Curtain after Gorbachev initiated glasnost and perestroika and pulled the Soviet troops from Afghanistan.”
The jeep lurched to a stop. Popov spun in his seat. “What are you yammering about?”
Gareth raised his hand. “Hey, just answering a question.”
Popov grabbed his gun and pointed it at Gareth. “There will be no more blasphemy in the vehicle, do you understand?”
Gareth put up his hands. “No blasphemy intended. I was just giving a history lesson.”
“Who is this Gorbachev you talk of? Brezhnev is the ruler of the USSR.”
Looking from face to face, Gareth raised his brows. “The USSR is gone.”
Popov eyes resembled the mouth of the rifle he pointed at Gareth's chest. “Explain yourself.”
“Well, I don't know all the details—”
“Just what you learned from Red Dawn.”
Gareth ignored Trent and launched into a history of Russia which sounded pretty detailed to Seffy—something about Iron Curtains, détentes, and a Polish uprising, which made no sense. Popov's face grew harder and harder until it resembled granite. He wrenched himself around and stepped on the gas, leaving everyone else to cope with a killer case of whiplash.
“I still don't know why they don't have Russian accents,” Seffy said in a low voice.
Gareth grew quiet, his brows furrowing over his handsome face. After a moment, he said, “Uh oh.” He looked at them, then shook his head. “Never mind.”
They sputtered to a stop in front of a tree.
“This can't be the compound,” Addison said after looking around. “I thought Malone said it was only a couple of miles from that last safe house.”
“We're taking a break,” Popov said. “Everyone out.” Turning his back to them, he pulled out his walkie and began an animated conversation in low tones with someone on the other end.
Grateful for a chance to stretch her legs, Seffy was one of the first out. She watched as Addison and Gareth helped Lani from the jeep. The poor girl's eyes were red from crying. Trent and Jared weren't quite as solicitous to the other girls. She wasn't sure if they even knew each other before arriving in the desert.
Seffy approached the girls and smiled, knowing with her wild hair, lack of makeup and now-ratty pink track suit, she probably looked more menacing than friendly. “It's Eva and Cynthia, right?”
They regarded her with open suspicion but nodded.
“So what's your take on all this?”
The girls looked at each other. “We don't have a clue. One minute we were shopping, the next we were here...in a rotten place with really lame people.”
Seffy could only imagine how her dramas had looked to outsiders. Heck, they looked whacked to her.
“What do you think?” Cynthia asked reluctantly.
Seffy shrugged. “You've heard the theories—nuclear blast, apocalypse...”
“What we don't get is why we're in Montana of all places. I mean, we moved as far away as we could for a reason. We never planned to come back.”
Seffy stiffened. “You're from here?”
They both nodded.
She cleared her throat. “Where exactly—?”
“Hey, blondie! Get over here where I can see you!”
Seffy turned to see Popov aiming his Soviet gun at her. She sent an apologetic look at the girls, then stalked over to the jeep, her mind spinning with confusion. “Where do you think I'm gonna go?”
“Hostages don't get to ask questions.”
“Well, since I'm an apparently valuable hostage, I think I will. What's going on?”
Resting his rifle on his knee, he pulled a can out of a knapsack and eyed her for a long moment.
“Time for lunch.”
She noticed it was lunch for the thugs, not the hostages.
Gareth approached her. “You'll notice they're eating MCI's, Sef.”
“I thought you said these were MREs...or something like that. Anyway, why are they stopping for lunch? Aren't we close to the compound?” She leaned closer to Gareth. “Is Popov offended by your version of Russian history and getting all pouty?”
“Uh, speaking of history, Sef, MREs don't come come out until 1981.” He sent her a significant look.
“Shut up and stay where I can see you,” Popov snapped. His walkie squawked. He put it up to his ear, keeping an eye on them.
Seffy made a face and addressed Gareth. “Are you saying those are too old to eat? Good thing, because I didn't want one anyway.”
He shook his head. “They're fresh.”
“How can you tell? Do they have a date on the container?”
Popov shoved his walkie back into his belt holster. “Sit down and shut up.”
Seffy ignored him, trying to figure out what Gareth was attempting to get across. “The containers look like something from a WW II movie.”
He nodded, his brown eyes wide.
“So they are too old to eat.”
Something hard pressed into her spine. She looked over her shoulder and saw Popov holding his rifle. She sat down. Gareth blew out a frustrated breath. He went and sat by Lani's side.
Seffy watched the thugs slurping from their cans, and shuddered. She scanned the area. It looked about the same as always. How many miles had they traversed through this part of the state over the last several days? How many of those miles were in circles?
Seffy turned to Popov who was cleaning out his can with his finger. Stifling a look of distaste, she said, “Where are we going?”
He wiped his teeth with his tongue. “To the compound.”
“Where is this so-called compound?”
He stared at her with his pale eyes. “A place in a remote...place.”
She pressed her lips together. “That's very helpful. What do 'they' want with me there?”
He grinned, his gaze traveling the length of her body. “I can think of a few things.”
