All Is Silence - Deserted Lands #1

Chapter 32 - Part I

ZACH TURNED OFF THE WOOSHING Landspeeder sound and drove the RAV on silent. White always seemed like a stupid color for a car, especially a 4X4, but today in the snow it was good. He shut the lights off, too.

The snow had settled; the moon was full and bright. All was silent in the world. The tracks in the snow were visible, but only as a series of intertwining ruts, one filled with more snow than the other. The highway climbed gradually. Zach split the middle between the downslopes and the ditches, driving carefully.

Nev, Saj, Rachael and Charley waited in Duke’s truck. Waiting while Zach, Duke, and Spike went on another damn fool’s errand.

Spike’s eyes scanned the snow, a smile on his face. In the back-seat Duke checked the chambers of his small arsenal of guns for the umpteenth time. Click-clack. Click-clack.

“Duke? Is this a good idea?”

“Hell if I know. It makes as much sense as anything in this new world. You shoot a handgun before?”

Zach nodded. “Yeah.”

“Here.” Duke handed him a pistol.

Zach hefted it. Heavy. Solid. It reminded him of Gramps’ war-issue .45. “Thanks. Hopefully we won’t be needing it.”

“Safety’s on. Right by the thumb. Don’t shoot your foot off.”

Zach wound steadily up the mountain, silent as the wind outside. The perfect stealth vehicle.

“Spike?” Zach looked over at Spike, mesmerized by the snow. “When we stop. You stay. In car. Okay?”

Spike nodded.

Duke said, “Slow. My phone says we’re near the pass.”

A beam of light flashed ahead. “Duke. You see that?” Zach’s eyes strained for more.

“What?”

“Up there,” Zach said, “I saw a flashlight, I think.” He took his foot off the gas and let the vehicle slow to a stop on its own. He pulled the emergency brake and took a deep breath.

Duke handed him two full magazines. “14 rounds each for the Smith & Wesson.”

Zach pocketed them. He slid his hand up and turned off the door ajar light. “Okay. And?”

“Shotgun or rifle?”

“Rifle.”

Duke handed him a rifle straight out of the Old West. “Big Boy. 45 Colt.”

“That’ll do.” Zach smiled grimly. “I guess I’m growed up enough.”

“I don’t have extra holsters.”

“I’ll be all right.” Zach turned back to Spike. “Spike. Stay. In the car. Okay?” He ripped open a bag of jerky and dumped it in his lap. That ought to keep him busy.

“Let’s go.”

                                        *        *        *

Subdued light streamed into the cell. Lizzie blinked her eyes and forced herself up. Her stomach growled. She got out of bed and tugged the covers with her, shuffling to the door of the cell.

“Hey, Carter.” No response. “Anybody out there? I’m hungry.” She heard a boom followed by the small pop of firecrackers, and for a moment wondered what the celebration was. Then it hit her, those rat-a-tats weren’t fireworks; they were gunfire.

“Shit.” She envisioned herself starving, locked in the cell as the rest of the world went crazy around her.

Lizzie rattled the bars. “Hey! Anybody out there?” she yelled.

Hell of a place to die. Mama had always said things would get better. But they never did for her. Mama had a way of not really living in the real world.

Lizzie held out her cell phone and walked around the room, looking for signal. Plenty of bars in here, but not the kind I need.

From time to time she heard more gunfire, distant explosions and yelling.

Lizzie went through her pockets. She had 27 cents, a Band-Aid, the cigarette from last night and lint. “Looks like Crazy Lizzie fucked things up again.” Nothing she could do but get back in bed and wait.

She should have waited. She should have let Zach and Nev and Duke help her, instead of being the stupid lone gun. She didn’t even have a gun. As Zach would say, “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”

Lizzie went to the garbage can, nothing in it. A scrunched up piece of paper lay beside it. She picked it up and straightened it out. There were drawings and words, names. Lizzie, Mannie, BeeGee, Zach… “Oh, my god. ” Her father and Jess had been here. How long ago? Minutes before she’d arrived? Hours? She’d been so close. But close only counted in horse-shoes, hand grenades and slow dancing.

Lizzie’s fingers traced the scars on her arm. How long ago since she’d cut herself? She could picture it happening. See the blood as the razor cut filled the line with red. It was another life. With all those other parts: Jerkwad, school, Chad.

Back then she had been afraid of the future. Now she feared the present.