Drought (28 page)

‘Your guys really needed to do that?' he asked. ‘I thought you had enough on your plate after this morning. I've just had Chief Williams on the phone. He's deeply upset about the loss of life at the Inland Center, especially Lieutenant Brodie.'

‘Oh, he's “deeply upset”, is he? So he should be. There was only one person to blame for Lieutenant Brodie getting himself killed and that was Lieutenant Brodie. Chief Williams should realize that this city is totally out of control, and we're not going to get back the upper hand until the police stop acting like pussies. I always said that Williams was a milquetoast, just like the mayor.'

‘So who were
these
people?'

‘They both came from the Muscupiabe Neighborhood Association. The fat guy, he's the chairman. They were trying to force their way into the country club to confront you about their water being shut off and they were threatening physical violence, so my people had no choice. The skinny Hispanic guy was trying to take pictures of the water sprinklers.'

‘Were they armed?'

‘Fat guy was carrying a concealed nine millimeter. We'll pass it over to the cops when they get here. If they ever get here.'

‘Of course it'll have his prints on it?'

Joseph Wrack took the panatela out of his mouth and looked pained, as if Governor Smiley had gratuitously questioned his integrity.

Governor Smiley said, ‘OK. It'll have his prints on it. Stupid of me to ask.' He squinted across at the paramedics as they draped pale green sheets over each of the bodies and then walked back to their ambulance.

After a moment, he said, ‘Muscupiabe, that's a real shame.'

‘Why's that, then?'

‘Well, we only cut off Muscupiabe to show the poorer neighborhoods like Las Plazas that we were being fair, but they won't be off for more than twenty-four hours, if that. They're good people in Muscupiabe. All reliable Smiley supporters.'

‘I was going to ask you about that,' said Joseph Wrack, and his voice sounded even drier than usual. ‘I was wondering why you cut off University Heights. I mean, that's a pretty affluent area. They must all pay their taxes and their water bills.'

‘They do. You're right. But in the last election more than eighty-two percent of them voted Munoz.'

‘Oh, so you're not just punishing the poor. You're punishing anybody who doesn't support Smiley.'

‘Of course. That's what politics is all about. Sticks and carrots. Or, in this case, water or no water.'

‘I see. OK. In that case, I'm glad I voted for you.'

A squad car finally appeared at the end of the country club driveway, closely followed by a brown panel van from the coroner's office.

‘Any progress with Saskia?' Governor Smiley asked, as he watched them approach.

‘Not so far. Not since we caught up with them at Wildwood Plaza. My guess is that they hightailed it south-west immediately after that and picked up the Riverside Freeway. That could take them all the way to the coast, and LAX.'

‘Shit. She could be anywhere by now. She could be in New York.'

‘It's possible. But flights have been very restricted and I've had my people checking all of the passenger manifests. No sign of her so far.'

Governor Smiley looked thoughtful. ‘If they were filling up with gas last time they were spotted, maybe they're headed east, by road. Maybe they're making for Vegas.'

‘Anything's possible,' said Joseph Wrack. ‘But my people are keeping a sharp lookout, don't you worry. ESS has eyes just about everywhere. We'll find Ms Vane for you, sooner or later.'

Governor Smiley glanced at him sideways. ‘OK,' he said. ‘But make sure that you do. Saskia Vane owes me a big, big favor; but you know how things can turn out. Sometimes favors can work in reverse.'

‘We'll find her,' Joseph Wrack repeated. ‘Have I ever let you down before, Governor?'

Faintly, in the distance, they could hear the drone of a helicopter approaching. A bespectacled young woman in a white blouse and a cream linen skirt came tip-tapping out of the golf club entrance on very high heels. ‘Governor Smiley?' she said. ‘Your ride is on its way.'

Governor Smiley gripped Joseph Wrack's right arm and squeezed it hard. ‘Just find the bitch for me, you got it?'

M
artin was woken up by the cabin door creaking. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, but all he saw was the briefest flicker of a shadow as somebody walked between the cabin and the early-morning sun.

Saskia was gone, and that had probably been her. The opposite bunk was still empty, so Santos must have slept for the rest of the night in his truck.

He dragged his blanket aside and sat up, wincing from the soreness between his legs. He felt as if he had been fighting all night with a pit bull terrier, because his shoulders and his hips were bruised and he was covered in teeth marks. He looked down. His penis was reddened and he even had bites on the insides of his thighs. He had gone to bed with sexually aggressive women before, but none of them had been as fierce as Saskia. He felt that she had wanted to devour him alive.

He slowly dressed. It was only seven fifteen a.m., but even up here in the mountains, more than six-and-a-half-thousand feet above sea level, it was already warm. He buckled up his belt and pushed open the cabin door. The sky was denim blue and the air was fragrant with the smell of pine. A pair of scrub jays were screeching at each other on the opposite side of the clearing.

As he stepped out of the cabin, he saw that Santos was hunkered down beside their makeshift hearth in nothing but his red stripy shorts, lighting a fire. He was skeletally thin, and his skin was stretched over his bones like parchment.

‘Hi, Santos. How are you feeling?'

Santos nodded, without looking up. ‘Much better, much better. The pain comes but then it goes. It is always worse when I get tired.' He blew steadily on to the sticks that he was using as kindling, and flames began to spring up. Once he was sure that they were well alight, he stood up and looked around. ‘I have to admit to you, Martin, I am glad that this has happened. It has brought me back to the mountains. Otherwise I never would have come here again. My spirit is here. The spirits of my people are here. Here in the mountains is a good place to die.'

‘I think there's plenty of life in you yet, Kemo Sabay.'

‘“Kemo Sabay”?' said Santos. ‘Why do you call me “Kemo Sabay”? It was the Lone Ranger who was called “Kemo Sabay”, the white man. The Indian was called Tonto.'

‘Oh, yeah? Well, that's where you're wrong. Back in the early days, when it was only a radio show, the Lone Ranger called Tonto “Kemo Sabay” instead of the other way about. It means “trusted scout”, which is what you are. I used to be mad about the Wild West when I was a kid, so you can't catch me out. See? You've learned something, and you've been given a compliment, too. That's a pretty good way to start the day.'

Santos was staring at him with narrowed eyes, his head tilted slightly to one side. ‘That's a very bad bite on your neck,' he said.

Martin tugged up his shirt collar to cover it. ‘Mosquito, more than likely. I
thought
I heard one buzzing around.'

‘Maybe it's the mountain air,' said Santos, without a hint of irony. ‘It gives the mosquitoes such an appetite.'

Peta and Ella were coming out of their cabin now; and then Tyler and Mikey. Susan was still inside, dressing George and Mina, but Nathan came out with his shirt buttoned up in all the wrong buttonholes. There was no sign of Rita yet. Martin guessed that she was either sleeping, or suffering from a catastrophic hangover, or else she had already started on her first Budweiser of the day, and didn't want anybody to see her.

Saskia appeared, however. She had managed to wipe off all of her foundation and her eye make-up and Martin could see what a striking face she had, even if her eyes did look smaller without mascara. She came right up to him and said, ‘Good morning, Martin! Hope you slept well?'

‘Sure, yes. On and off.'

‘Mmm. Me too. And what
dreams
I had! What's for breakfast?'

‘We have bagels, with American cheese if you like,' said Santos. He bent over and poked around in the cardboard box full of groceries that they had taken from the Chevron food mart. ‘Or here we are – Campbell's chunky chicken, broccoli, cheese and potato soup. Only one hundred ninety calories. Or a strawberry and wheat flake breakfast bar.'

‘Good God. Any juice?'

Peta and Ella went over to a fallen log on the opposite side of the fire and sat down together. Peta wrapped a blanket around Ella's shoulders and hugged her. Ella was looking very pale and she was shivering, although the morning was so warm. Martin picked up a carton of cranberry juice and walked across to join them.

‘She's OK,' said Peta. ‘She has the cramps, that's all. I've given her some painkillers.'

Ella looked up and gave him the weakest of smiles. ‘I'm all right, Daddy. Really.'

‘You're sure? Here, drink some of this.'

Peta said, ‘Ella and I were talking last night. We decided that neither of us want to turn back. I know that Tyler wants to keep going, too. It's not just a question of escaping from the drought, Martin. It's a question of making a fresh start – bringing our family back together again.'

‘You're sure about that? I can't guarantee that I've changed all that much.'

Peta looked him directly in the eye. Every time he looked back at her he thought how beautiful she was. He felt as if he needed to look at her all the time, and never turn away, because he didn't want to waste a minute of his life looking at anybody else. It was hard to believe that he had shouted at her, and slammed doors, and smashed furniture, and thrown her violently across the room.

‘I've seen you in the past few days,' said Peta. ‘I think you've changed much more than you know. You don't take your devils out on other people any more. You face up to them. I don't think you'll ever get rid of them. I don't think that's possible. But I think that you and I could live together again, or try to, at least.'

Martin opened and closed his mouth without saying anything. Whatever he said, he was sure that it was going to come out cockeyed. How could he tell Peta how he felt about the world, when he didn't really know himself? Yet here she was looking him with such renewed confidence, even though he had hurt her so much; and here was Ella looking at him too, and Ella had such hope in her eyes.

He was about to ask Peta to wait until they had reached Lost Girl Lake, so that they could sit down together and decide how they were going to plan their future, but then Saskia came up behind him and patted him on the shoulder. It was on a spot where she had bitten him very hard, and he couldn't help flinching.

‘Martin?' she said. ‘I need to talk to you.'

‘OK,' Martin told her. ‘Give me a couple of minutes, could you?'

‘It's urgent, Martin. I need to talk to you right now.'

He was about to insist that she waited until he had finished talking to Peta, but when he saw the expression on her face he said, ‘Oh … right. Peta – I won't be a moment.'

Saskia walked toward the cabin that she was supposed to have been sharing with Rita and Martin followed her. The cabin door was ajar but she stopped before she went in and turned around to face him.

‘I think Rita's dead,' she said.

‘
Dead
? Are you serious?'

‘I'm sure of it. Go in and take a look at her.'

‘Oh, Jesus. When did you realize?'

He went up to the cabin and pushed the door wider. Rita was lying on her bunk with her eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. Her hair was tangled and her face was a blueish-gray color, almost metallic. Her mouth was caked with orange vomit.

Martin pressed his fingertips against her neck but he couldn't feel a pulse. Then he leaned over her, with his ear almost touching her lips, but he couldn't feel her breathing. She smelled strongly of stale alcohol and bile and although she was tightly bundled up in her blanket, he could smell that she had emptied her bowels.

Saskia said, ‘When I got up this morning the blanket was covering her face completely and I assumed that she was still asleep. I came back because I had forgotten my watch and I thought it was time she got up, too, and had some breakfast. I lifted up the blanket and that was when I saw that she was dead.'

‘Choked on her own vomit,' said Martin. ‘What the hell do we tell her kids?'

Saskia said, ‘I'll do it. I'll tell Susan first, and then she and I can explain it to Mikey and Nathan and the little ones.'

Martin drew the blanket back to cover Rita's face. He didn't want her children to see her like this. Strangely, she didn't look like herself at all. Martin had seen more than twenty of his fellow marines killed in Afghanistan, and he had noticed the same thing with them. Once they were dead, they did nothing more than superficially resemble the people they had been when they were alive. That was one of the reasons he believed in souls.

They went back outside. Susan and Mikey were standing there, waiting for them. Susan's eyes were puffy and Mikey's hair was sticking up like a cockerel.

‘My mom's dead, isn't she?' said Mikey.

Martin put his arm around his shoulders. ‘Yes,' he said. ‘How did you know?'

‘We saw you go in there, and we kind of guessed that was why.'

Susan said, ‘We've been expecting it. She's been sick so much lately. She hasn't been eating anything and after she used the toilet it was full of blood.'

‘We'll have to break it to your brothers and your little sister,' said Saskia. ‘Do you want to do it, or shall I?'

‘I'll do it,' said Susan. ‘I don't think that they'll be surprised. They've heard me often enough, telling her that drinking so much is going to kill her.' She paused, and shook her head, and said, ‘Stupid,
stupid
woman! She used to be so beautiful. Hard to believe now, isn't it?'