Monster of the Apocalypse
Page 17
From the wall they looked out at the future. Eleon sat in front, his hair a little more silver grey, his face slightly more wrinkled. His hand rose to his shoulder where it cupped his wife’s. She smiled a smile that only Lecti could. In her other arm, a small bundle of warmth gurgled and cooed. Her son had her blue eyes and Eleon’s dark hair. Beside her, Carrie held one hand on her growing belly. Deo had lightened her unborn child’s skin. It would never be the beautiful ebony black of his mother’s, but she would love him anyway, just as she loved Deo. Carrie’s free hand held his, out of the camera’s view. Deo stood tall with the beginnings of his new beard. It was thin, but he was proud of it. Bregor lay at their feet, looking up at them and ignoring the camera, a doggy smile on his lips.
Postscript
Heat boiled from every surface. The dry air moved sluggishly, creating wavy, ill-defined optical anomalies in the distance. Though Hawthorne, Nevada, could be brutally cold in the winter, summers were equally extreme in the opposite direction. At least the wind wasn’t blowing.
Zip had changed in the years of his abandonment. Once pride and vanity had been a priority, keeping him meticulously groomed. Now he made no effort whatsoever. There was no one to impress but himself. Feral eyes squinting in the brightness, he contemplated his day.
He had limited choices. He could hunt. Most of his options in that respect would be jackrabbits, cats, or wild dogs that managed to exist on the rabbits, cats, and the occasional antelope or mustang carcass. He made an effort to keep from killing them off completely for the simple entertainment factor in having them to hunt.
Scavenging houses and shops had become old. There were only so many times that a building could be searched before anything of interest was found.
A movie? The equipment still operated, but he knew them all so well that he could recite every line before it was spoken. Music was similarly too familiar. Books held no interest. He hadn’t the imagination or patience to enjoy them.
One of the few fantasies he indulged was getting out of town. He thought about it almost as often as he thought about what he would do if he caught up to Cotton. His thirst for revenge didn’t stop there, however. Within days of being marooned he had an epiphany. While wondering why the dark stranger had declined to take his life, he suddenly realized that it must have been Deo that instigated being chased down. His hate for the old man whose name he had never learned gave way to a sure and steady lust for a chance to get even with Deo. Even though part of his realization included that Deo pursued him because he had beaten that bitch, Toshi, to death, he never made the connection that his situation might be his own fault and ended better than he deserved.
Vehicles that could have afforded his exit from town were plentiful enough. They just didn’t run. As a remote community heavily populated by the military, and because of their need for dry air storage bunkers, electric vehicles with limited ranges never caught on. The internal combustion alternatives failed to be viable as their fuel went bad. Not that there were no electric vehicles. The sudden rush of desperate travelers running from danger, or toward safety, in the last days of and immediately after the plagues, had scavenged most for parts. The ones they missed had become useless from the extreme temperature variations and time. It was frustrating to find a visually perfect mode of transportation and not be able to make it run.
Zip resorted to horses for a brief time. He corralled several, but between his temper and his lack of experience in training or breaking them, things went badly. He ate his failures.
That left shoe leather as an exit strategy. Zip considered it, but it all came down to one thing in the end. He was afraid to take his chances in the desert on foot.
He bided his time.
On this stifling day, as Zip gazed down the road to Las Vegas and thought about what might break the monotony, he saw an approaching cloud of dust in the distance. It gave him hope.
§
As the stranger approached, he hesitated at the edge of town. He was hungry and tired. It would be good to find a safe place to hole up for the next several hours until the cool of the evening made travel more attractive. Since he had left Vegas, stopping every hundred miles or so to recharge his bike, he hadn’t seen any signs of human life and wasn’t expecting to. Now he was surprised to see the figure of a man sitting in the shadow of a gas station overhang, casually leaning a chair back against the building as though waiting for him.
Well-traveled and road weary, he decided from the relaxed posture of the sitting man that he would be safe in approaching. Still, he was cautious. He moved his bike forward slowly.
§
Zip sat quietly, tilted back in his chair. He had to be patient to lull this man into his grip. When the stranger got close enough, Zip leaned forward touching the chair legs down lightly. He stood, raising his arms from his sides in an attitude of submission. It was taking a risk, but in the end would make things easier if he could get close.
The stranger hesitated.
Zip spoke. “Gettin’ hot. I’ve got cold drinks and could stand some conversation if you’re interested. We don’t get much news lately.”
Evaluating each other, they both stood lightly, ready to retreat to whatever cover they could find. A full minute passed in silence as they weighed each other.
Finally…“Who’s we?” asked the newcomer.
Zip considered, and decided to go with a lie that he thought would make the situation less threatening.
“My wife, two kids, and my wife’s sister.”
The last he added as an enticement, allowing the stranger to think there might be an available female. It wouldn’t hurt, and might be just the thing to reel him in.
“Where are they?”
“Other end of town by now. They’re headed out to the lake to go swimming.” Zip felt the other man relax as his lie worked.
Still, the rider remained cautious.
Zip had been checking out the bike the man was astride. It looked serviceable, and he recognized the brand. His interest was a mistake. As his gaze came back to meet the other’s, the stranger’s eyes were hard. Zip realized the man was suspicious. He had given himself away by being interested in the bike. He had to defuse the situation.
“That’s a Torsion bike, isn’t it? I’ve got a couple just like it.” He lied again.
The stranger relaxed. “Yeah, it is. What kind of drinks have you got?”
“C’mon, let’s see.”
Zip led the way inside, turning his back. Another calculated risk. He invited the newcomer to make a choice.
In his haste and thirst, the stranger bent to retrieve a bottle. Turning to face Zip and thank him, he barely noticed as Zip’s blade slid softly under his ribs and pricked his heart.
§
The bike proved to be well equipped and road worthy. As Zip inventoried the contents of the stranger’s belongings he “Tra-la-la’d” under his breath. He didn’t know exactly where he had picked up the melody, but it made him happy. Placing the bike where the solar collectors were fully exposed to the sun, he went inside to gather any possessions he would take with him. There wasn’t much. Thirst drove him back to the cooler with the drinks. He shoved the body aside to reach one and went back outside to sit in the shade as he drank.
Zip had a decision to make. Which direction should he go? South was Las Vegas and a cold trail to Cotton. There was little expectation of finding him, and it would be dangerous going to a large city with no wingman to watch his back. He remembered Carson City and the hospital set up as a fortress. There would probably be better odds in going there. Because he hadn’t seen Hey You on his short stay there, he was only expecting to find Hal. It might be a good place to lie up for a while and weigh his options. Hal might even know where Deo and his sister had gone. Hell, they might even still be there. You never knew. The old man with the shotgun sheathed on his chaps would be gone for sure. Zip knew he was a wanderer and unlikely to stay anywhere long. Zip’s brow furrowed as he went over the possibil
ities. Yup, now he had a clear direction.
He went back to get another drink. No reason to limit them now. He was leaving. As he sat, savoring the relative coolness of the shade and the chill of his drink, he began constructing a new fantasy where he found Deo and used his sister before killing him.
Leaving in the morning, mañana, seemed best. There was one thing left to do. He found his old spit kit, razor, soap, and scissors and drew a bath.
§
The vehicles inside the garage in Carson still held a charm for Deo. He went to drool over them several times a year. The dark blue, Mustang bodied GT 500 was his particular favorite. A little research had produced enough information that he now knew it to be a ’67. Originally built by a man known for an affinity for speed and excellence in design, this one had been transformed by another that appreciated quality modifications. The old fossil fuel power plant had been replaced by an electric alternative. The original designer might have questioned that choice, but he surely would have been intrigued by the impressive numbers in acceleration that the change generated. Other modifications, light and unobtrusive, were more difficult to spot but made the entire package a beast of a machine. What Deo could not know was that this particular machine, before its engine transplant, had raced across the United States in an illegal race. An extra sixty-gallon tank replacing the back seat and highly classified radar absorption material under the fiberglass cowl were only a small part of the arsenal it once carried.
Even though the ’67 couldn’t be charged, he still had access to the solar options in the storage facility. Each time he visited, a different vehicle would get pushed out into the sun to renew a charge. So far only one had failed to run. He stored it in back of the others just in case he ever found some way to repair it. This morning, before he took the time to renew his acquaintance with the Mustang, he pushed a dirt bike to the middle of the parking area where the sun was most direct. Now, sitting in the object of his affection, he heard a noise outside the door.
Deo had no expectation of being disturbed. He was puzzled. Carrie was studying and would be until he returned. Between that and the children needing attention, he knew it wouldn’t be her. Lecti and Eleon had a project they were working on in Virginia City, and leaving their child in Carrie’s care, had left early to spend the day there.
§
Coming down the hill into Carson, Zip headed west on highway 50, missing the turn on Arrowhead Drive. That was the route he and Cotton had taken out of town. As he passed the garage where Deo was admiring the machinery and waiting for the bike to charge, Zip noticed the motorcycle in the center of the parking area. It looked new and out of place amidst the debris-strewn patches of asphalt and concrete in the surrounding area.
His curiosity was piqued, and he decided to investigate. Making little noise, he did a quick one eighty and pulled up next to the dirt bike. He took a fast look around before he dismounted his bike. Noting the open man door on the garage and the tracks leading from one of the roll-ups, he knew that there was someone inside.
A new weapon hung at his hip. He released the thong that kept it securely holstered.
§
The best possible explanation of the noise outside was that a stranger had shown up. Deo slipped out of the car and adjusted the pistol on his thigh, tying the leather cord that trailed off the bottom of the holster around his leg. Better to be prepared. He had the advantage being in the dark as he exited the door, as long as the person outside hadn’t decided to find cover and wait for him to show. If that were the case, Deo would lay back and try to wait him out. Approaching the door he was relieved to see the newcomer step around the two parked bikes and start toward him as though he had no ill intent. Deo moved into the light. There was something about the man that Deo couldn’t place. A canvas hat with a wide brim obscured the top of his face. The jacket. It looked familiar.
As soon as Deo exited the garage, Zip realized who he was. The light beard and the heavier muscles did nothing to hide the identity of Deo from him. He couldn’t believe his good fortune. This kid was dead. He wasn’t going to wait. The sister would come later when he found her.
Practice makes perfect, and Eleon made sure Deo practiced with the pistol until his hands blistered. Drawing it came as naturally as using a fork to eat. The instant that Zip made his move, Deo reacted. Zip got off a shot, but it went wild as his hand was flung sideways from the impact of a round taking his thumb off. It was a brag shot, and Eleon would have disapproved, but Deo was confident in his abilities. Zip looked down at what remained, stunned, and let out a whimper.
The slug that was intended for Deo’s heart had creased only the faded denim at the top of his shoulder. The heat of the moment was subsiding and Deo was cool enough to think of how funny it was that he had come to realize he might lose his favorite shirt.
The stranger raised his head, and for the first time Deo met his eyes directly. Without any conscious thought Deo put a bullet in the stranger’s left hand as it supported him where he had collapsed.
Zip tilted over and fell onto the concrete, completely prone.
“I guess you won’t be beating any women now, will ya?” asked Deo.
Zip was preparing to beg for his life when the next slug created a four-inch exit in the back of his head.
§
Deo found a home for Zip’s bike in the back of the garage next to the one that didn’t run. No use wasting a good piece of equipment. The body found a ditch behind the garage, some old tires that lay in the field behind moved to obscure it from sight. A few buckets of sand soaked up the blood, although there would be stains.
Wondering at how Eleon had fooled him as well as Lecti, Deo mused over what had happened. He would think about it often, but decided to keep it to himself for the moment at least. Eventually he would tell Carrie. In the meantime, the motorcycle he had left in the sunshine was fully charged, and the hills beckoned.
THE END
Table of Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Postscript