Empire Of Salt (29 page)

"Daddy, where are you?!"

She shook with rage.

Then something moved far down the street towards the trailer which they'd been afraid to go into. A figure ran into the street. She couldn't make it out this far away, but whoever it was, it was moving fast and coming straight at her.

Fear supplanted her rage. What if it was one of those zombies? She looked around her as if the locked buildings would suddenly be unlocked and open. But to no avail.

When she looked back down the street the figure was halfway towards her, lurching more than running. Her heart leaped into her mouth.

Then a golf cart erupted from a side street, crashing into the side of the zombie, the collision rocking the cart and hurling the zombie into the seawall.

The driver swerved towards her. Behind her the zombie clambered unsteadily to its feet.

The cart was driven by the hook-handed man, Gerald. Barely slowing, he yelled for her to get in. Without any more urging, she ran beside it for a second and jumped aboard. She turned around and saw that the zombie was still coming.

"Hold on and lean left," he yelled.

Natasha grabbed the handle on the side of the seat and did as he said. They took the ninety-degree turn as fast as they dared; the cart ran on two wheels for a moment before slamming back to earth.

Then they sped away. When she finally looked back, the zombie had disappeared. They made two more turns before pulling into the driveway of an impeccably-manicured trailer on First Street.

When they pulled to a stop, Gerald took a moment to set the break and plug the battery into a cord that ran from a pole beside the trailer. Meanwhile, Natasha sat stock still in the seat.

"Why don't you come inside for some iced tea?" he offered, finally.

Gerald limped up his porch steps without looking back and entered his home.

Natasha waited a moment, undecided on what to do, then hurried inside and locked the door behind her.

"Don't know if that's necessary," Gerald said. "I haven't found one smart enough to turn a knob yet."

She flashed him a look and he nodded.

"You're right. It's probably bound to happen sooner or later. Better to lock it." He handed her a glass of ice tea. "Here, drink this and then tell me why you were out there hollering at the sky."

He went into the bathroom and was gone for several minutes. When he returned, he still limped slightly. He smiled through gritted teeth.

She drank deeply. The tea was sweetened and went down clean and cold.

"Thank you for saving me."

"Wasn't nothing. Damn thing got away from me anyway. Been trying to catch it all day."

"Why was it trying to get me?"

Gerald shrugged. "Not so sure it was trying to get you as much as it was trying to get away from me."

"Where was it when you found it?" she asked.

Gerald stared at her for a moment, as if deciding how he was going to answer her. Finally, he said, "I'd captured it. I thought maybe if I had one to look at, I might not be so damned afraid of it."

"Easy to be afraid of something that isn't supposed to exist."

Gerald took a sip of his iced tea. "I suppose."

"Where'd you keep it? It was in the blue and yellow trailer, wasn't it?"

Gerald blinked several times, then nodded.

"We could tell it was there," Natasha said. "We were too afraid to go inside. Where do you suppose it went?"

"I'm guessing it went back in the water."

"Not the plant?"

Gerald appraised her as he refilled her glass and handed it back to her, gesturing for her to take a seat at the small breakfast table beside the kitchen.

When they were both seated, he spoke. "So you know about the plant, huh?"

She nodded, looking at the old man. For the first time since he'd picked her up, she really noticed the hooks on his hands. Made of stainless steel, they had a utilitarian look to them. She'd always thought of hooks at the end of arms as something scary, a main ingredient for urban mythology about lonely places along the road and serial killers. But the hooks weren't scary at all. What had Veronica said - that he'd lost them in the Korean War? His face was friendly, carved by decades of living. He wasn't a large man, but the combination of his hooks, his piercing blue eyes and his firm jaw made him seem almost larger than life. She felt tears burn her eyes as she wondered about her own grandfather and then, of course, her father.

"Are they really zombies?" she asked.

Gerald stared into his drink. "Not sure what they are. Not sure that calling them something makes them any better or worse. Maybe it would be best if you and your family leave."

"I can't." She barely got the words free. "My father is missing."

He looked at her and shook his head. "Sometimes people go missing around here through no fault of their own."

Natasha opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't. Her worst fear had been voiced by someone who knew more than she did.

"But that doesn't mean it happened to your father," Gerald hastened to add. He leaned down and adjusted his pant leg. It rode up and had caught on a wide white bandage soaked with red.

"You're bleeding," Natasha said.

Gerald shook his head. "It's nothing. I deserve it," he glanced at Natasha. "Anyway, when's the last time you saw your father?"

Natasha told him, then explained about his alcoholism.

To that he smiled. "Believe it or not, that gives us hope. I've seen my share of drunks holed up in these trailers and know which ones are best for that sort of thing."

"So you'll help me?"

"Course I will. Not like I have other things to occupy my time."

M
exican television told the tale of Tropical Storm Hiawatha. It had slammed into Puerto Peñasco, uprooting anchors and sending fishing boats sailing down main streets normally trod by tourists. By the time it left, the death toll was twelve and climbing. Meteorologists predicted that the storm would lose power as it raced inland. Yuma, Arizona should expect winds in excess of seventy miles an hour and five inches of rain. The Salton Sea, half that.

Veronica finished translating the news and switched back on the video tape of old
Three Stooges
episodes. Metzger stood staring out the window. Natasha and Veronica sagged on the couches, and Derrick sat at the kitchen table, hunched over his papers, transcribing his grandfather's code.

No one laughed at the antics on the television; the show was just on to keep them from dwelling too deeply on the zombies living less than a mile from them.

Natasha had returned less than an hour ago and kept her conversations with Maude and Gerald to herself. She wanted to do something, to get out of Bombay Beach. That Gerald had offered to search for her father was of immense help. The old man knew the town better than anyone, and knew places where people tended to hide. With any luck, they'd be on the road heading away real soon.

Veronica sighed, went to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water and drank it down. When she was finished, she returned to the living room, shaking her head. "This is all just so damned far-fetched, you know?"

"Straight out of a movie," Natasha said.

"Or a comic book," Derrick added.

"So what would a comic book hero do?" Veronica asked.

"He would -"

"Or she," Natasha interrupted.

"He, or she, would go to the source. They'd find out where the zombies are, blow up the lab - the lunar outpost, the stronghold, wherever the zombies were - he or she would go there, kill all the bad guys and save the world."

"And what would happen to the hero?"

"He'd live on to the next issue."

Veronica sighed. "Remind me to come back as a comic book hero in my next life."

"Better watch what you're wishing for. You might come back as Howard the Duck," Metzger said.

Derrick laughed. "That's funny."

Veronica didn't understand the reference, and stared at Derrick, but he was steadfastly ignoring her, instead working diligently on his decoding and transcription.

Natasha snapped to a sitting position. It took a moment for her to speak, but when she did, her words were low and clipped. "You're all being childish. People have been killed, for God's sake." She glared at everyone. "Tell me, what are we going to do when night comes? We going to read comic books? We going to watch television? We're sitting ducks in here."

Everyone exchanged glances.

Metzger was the first to break the silence. "You're right, Natasha's right. But we can't go anywhere without your father."

"But that doesn't mean we have to sit around like a bunch of idiots," she said.

Metzger turned to Veronica, "Do you think your Auntie and Uncle would come if you told them the truth?"

She shook her head. "They wouldn't believe me if I swore on a bible. It's just too -" she struggled for a word.

"Crazy?" Derrick offered.

"Yeah. Crazy."

So if we can't leave, then what shall we do?" Metzger asked the room.

Everyone watched Moe beat the shit out of Shemp and Larry with an axe handle. No one laughed.

"What if we had one to show them - your aunt and uncle, the town, everyone?" Derrick suddenly asked. "What if we blew this whole thing out of the water by getting a zombie and showing it to the world?"

"And how are we going to do that, little man?" Metzger asked, turning from the window.

Derrick made a face at the comment, but continued. "Remember the zombie in the trailer? The one I was afraid to go into?"

Metzger snapped his fingers, his face brightening. "That's right. We almost forgot about that."

Natasha shook her head. "I think that one's gone."

All eyes went to her.

"What do you mean?" Veronica asked.

Natasha sighed, then told them what had happened, and about Gerald.

"You mean you almost got eaten by a zombie and you didn't think it was important enough to tell us about?" Derrick asked, his mouth agape.

"It was a far cry from being eaten. It didn't even get near me, really," Natasha said.

"What do you think this guy Gerald was doing with the zombie?" Metzger asked.

Natasha shrugged. "I don't know. Whatever it was, he wasn't happy about it."

Veronica shook her head. "Then that's that. Scratch one more idea."

"Wait," Derrick said. "My idea isn't dead. My grandpa had all the information here. He just didn't have enough time to put it all together. According to this, right before there was any significant event, there were strange green flashes in the water. They were quick, but if you were looking right at them, you could see them plain as can be."

"I wonder what the flashes are?" Natasha murmured.

"It says that the flashes were always preceded by earthquake swarms," Derrick added.

"We had those earthquakes a few days ago," Natasha said.

He nodded. "And then the big zombie attack along the road. Do you know what I think? I think the flashes are some sort of power release, like a bleed-off. When the power builds too much, then they have to release it in the form of light energy."