The Hunted (16 page)

“How bad is it?” Carmen asked.

Shoeshine gave her an odd smile. “He's going to be just fine. Aren't you, boy?”

Shy watched a wide-eyed Marcus look up at him and Carmen in shock. His face covered in sweat. “I'm okay,” he managed to say.

“You have my word,” Shoeshine told Marcus. “Everything's going to be fine because the three of us love you. And there's nothing in this world as powerful as love. You know that, boy?”

Marcus nodded and swallowed hard. He made a move to lift his bloody shirt, to look at his bullet wound, but Shoeshine brushed his hand away and continued pressing one of his spare shirts against Marcus's wound.

Blood was caked all down Marcus's right side. It wasn't just the two shirts anymore, it was his jeans, too. And Shoeshine's jeans. Shy cringed and turned to look up and down the freeway. There wasn't much around. A few caved-in fast-food places. A torched motel. Marcus needed medical attention immediately. Or else he'd bleed out. But where were they supposed to take him out here?

“Young fella,” Shoeshine said to Shy. “You did good. That was the right move with the van.”

Shy nodded.

“You see?” Shoeshine let go of the duffel bag long enough to pat Shy on his shoe. “You're becoming who you already are.”

For half a second Shy felt a swell of pride, but he quickly shook himself free of it. None of that mattered now. Not with his friend in such a bad way.

“We gotta do something,” Carmen said.

“You think we can carry him?” Shy asked Shoeshine. “Or should I try and find someone to bring here?”

“Let's take a minute to catch our breath,” Shoeshine said, and he resumed rocking Marcus in his arms.

“We don't
have
a minute!” Shy snapped. “He needs help
now
!”

A tear streaked down Carmen's face as she kneeled next to Marcus and took his hand. “We'll get you help,” she told him. “I promise.”

“I'm okay,” Marcus answered. His eyes shifted to Shy. “I'm okay,” he said again, like he actually believed the lies Shoeshine was feeding him.

But Shy knew better. Even if he took off running right this second, how long would it take him to find someone who could help? And if they carried Marcus, how far would they be able to get him? Especially once it started getting hot again?

Shy turned back to Shoeshine. “How close are we to San Bernardino?”

“We're
in
San Bernardino,” Shoeshine answered.

This gave Shy a glimmer of hope. “So you know somewhere we can take him?”

“Of course I know somewhere we can take him.” Shoeshine closed his eyes as he continued calmly rocking Marcus. He used his big leathery hands to massage Marcus's temples and around his ears.

Carmen stood up and looked at Shy. “What are we waiting for? We have to
go
.”

“Shoe,” Shy said. “Come on, man.”

Instead of answering, the man began humming in Marcus's ear. It only took a few seconds for Shy to recognize the song. It was the same one Shoeshine had hummed to the two girls they'd buried near the motor home. Shy's heart started beating faster.

“Shoe, come on,” Carmen tried again.

Shoeshine leaned forward and kissed Marcus on the ear again, then positioned his hands on the sides of Marcus's face and hummed louder.

“Shoe,” Shy pleaded.

“I'm okay,” Marcus said, his wide eyes darting every which way.

Shoeshine hummed and rocked Marcus back and forth, back and forth, and then he made a sudden jerking movement, tweaking Marcus's head so violently in his hands that Shy could actually hear his friend's neck snap, and he watched Marcus's body immediately go slack, his head falling against Shoeshine's chest and his eyes rolling back.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Carmen screamed, turning away.

Shy lunged away from Shoeshine and Marcus, sick to his stomach. He covered his face with his hands and walked out from under the bridge, his whole body trembling. He kneeled down and spit on the concrete.

“Jesus Christ, Shoe!” Carmen screamed again. “What the fuck are you doing!”

Shy pulled at his own hair. He was so sickened by what he'd just seen and heard he couldn't think straight. Then he hopped back up and marched over to Shoeshine, shouting: “You killed him, Shoe! You fucking killed Marcus!”

Shoeshine cracked open his eyes lazily and looked up at Shy. But he didn't say anything. And he was still rocking Marcus's lifeless body.

Shy was choking on anger now. He clenched his fists, wanting to crack Shoeshine in the side of the face. Or kick him in his stitched-up leg. Or snap
his
neck.

But he didn't do any of that.

He just stood there in disbelief. Carmen beside him sobbing.

Shoeshine finally stopped rocking. He slipped out from under Marcus's lifeless body and struggled to his feet to face Shy. “Those who are pure of heart will not suffer
unnecessarily.”

Rage pulsed through Shy's body.

He was so pissed at Shoeshine he could feel his veins raising under his skin. But it wasn't just Shoeshine. He was pissed at the gunman who shot Marcus, too. And he was pissed at the earthquakes and the tsunamis and his decision to board a Paradise cruise ship in the first place. But all that combined couldn't match the rage he felt for LasoTech. And Addie's dad. There was no way he'd be able to go on living with this much rage bubbling inside.

“You don't get to decide!” Carmen screamed at Shoeshine. She wiped her wet face and glanced at Shy between sobs. Then she turned back to Shoeshine. “You don't get to decide for someone else!”

Shoeshine slung the duffel bag over his shoulder, then reached down and lifted Marcus's body into his arms and began carrying him out from under the bridge like a small child. He was limping badly. Near the shoulder he stumbled a bit and had to kneel down. “Help me get the boy out onto the field so I can bury him,” he said, looking back at Shy.

“You don't get to decide,” Carmen said again. But this time her words came out softer.

Shy realized the blood on Shoeshine's jeans wasn't from Marcus. He could tell because it was still spreading. And it was in the same spot where the man had been shot. He must have torn open his stitches somehow.

Shoeshine stood again, still staring at Shy. “We do what has to be done, young fella. And we do it without ego or
sentimentality.
All life is one life.”

Shy glanced at Carmen, who was sobbing
uncontrollably.

He was so confused. Just last night he and Marcus had a long conversation in the gutter. And Marcus broke the news that he was going home.

Now Marcus was dead.

Shy flashed on Shoeshine tweaking his friend's neck again. The awful sound it made. How his body went limp and his eyes rolled back.

Shy wasn't naive. He'd seen all the blood leaking out of his friend's gunshot wound. And he knew there was no one around to help. But did that give Shoeshine the right to end Marcus's life so violently?

Shoeshine shook his head and struggled to his feet again, cradling Marcus's body. He began limping out onto the field by himself, leaving Shy and Carmen to mourn under the bridge.

They didn't have anything to dig a grave with, so they placed Marcus's body in the gutter at the shoulder of the freeway and covered him with sand and leaves and what little chalky dirt they could dig up with their bare hands. The three of them worked beside each other in silence for over an hour. Carmen was no longer crying. But she wouldn't look at Shy. Shoeshine was favoring his injured leg so much Shy wondered how he'd be able to continue now that they would be on foot.

A single bird circled lazily overhead, like it was watching them.

Twice they had to duck inside the gutter to hide from a passing vehicle. The first time it was the black SUV that had appeared back near the circle of bodies. Shy could tell by the spidered windshield and the bullet holes in the door. The SUV rolled by slowly, its driver scanning both sides of the freeway, no doubt looking for Shy, Carmen and Marcus. But then Shy saw something else. The SUV was pulling a trailer that held two brand-new metallic gray motorcycles. It was the same SUV he'd seen outside the Sony lots when they were leaving. The driver had tracked them all the way out into the desert.

The second vehicle was even more menacing. A jacked-up black Hummer. There were two people inside wearing military-style gas masks even though the windows were rolled up. Shy shook his head as he watched the vehicle disappear down the freeway. How many people had LasoTech sent after them? All because of the duffel bag resting inside the gutter near Shoeshine's feet.

When they'd covered Marcus the best they could, Shoeshine kneeled beside the makeshift grave and said a few quiet words Shy couldn't make out.

Carmen shot Shy a dirty look and stormed off.

Shy stayed, though, studying the man. His gray hair was wild and partially burned. But his braided chin beard was still perfectly intact, like that part of him was indestructible or somehow otherworldly. Who was this man who could snap Marcus's neck with his bare hands? Shy realized he didn't know any more about Shoeshine today than he did back when Shoeshine rescued him and Addie in the middle of the ocean.

Then a strange thought occurred to Shy. Maybe Marcus was the lucky one. Everything worthwhile had seemingly been destroyed by the earthquakes and fires. The disease that feasted on anyone in its path. And now LasoTech hit men were hunting them down like dogs. All this for what? So Shy could walk through the scorching-hot desert, starving and dehydrated, for the next several days?

He played with the ring in his pocket as he watched Shoeshine hover over his friend. Was this a life he even wanted anymore? Everyone he'd ever cared about was gone.

Everyone except Carmen.

When Shoeshine finally moved away from the makeshift grave, Shy took his place. He stood there for several minutes, remembering his friend back on the ship. Doing all that hip-hop dancing on the outdoor stage. A crowd of people staring. “We won't forget you,” Shy mumbled. Then he turned and followed Shoeshine and Carmen through an open field of dried-out shrubs just north of the freeway. All of them walking a good distance from one another. Carmen's eyes still puffy from crying. Shoeshine limping badly, but still leading.

As they approached a small tent community on the far side of the field, Shy glanced back one more time at the stretch of freeway where they'd just buried Marcus.

A sickening feeling spread through his veins. There were several birds circling above Marcus now. Vultures, he realized. Waiting until it was safe to descend.

A few men from the tent community gathered to watch Shy, Carmen and Shoeshine approach. Cutting through their area suddenly didn't seem like such a good idea. But to Shy's surprise the men didn't do or say anything. They let them march right into their long line of tents.

“It's a damn miracle,” Shy said under his breath. “I figured everyone wanted to shoot at us.”

Carmen glanced at Shy but didn't say anything.

Shy saw a few small kids playing with toy trucks, and he saw a group of women gathered around a large pot that hung over an open flame, and he saw a kid around his age leaning against a tree, watching them. It didn't take long to pass through the entire community, and then it was more open field. Shy and Carmen followed a limping Shoeshine in silence, toward a cluster of brown hills to the north.

Hours spiraled by.

The temperature rose with the blurry sun, and soon the dry heat pressed down on Shy, making it hard to breathe. He was exhausted—from the walking and the stress of everything that had happened. His shins ached. His left knee creaked. He took off his shirt and wrapped it around his head, the way he had every day on the sailboat. Back then, he would've given anything to set foot on dry land like this. Now all he wanted to do was throw himself in the cold ocean.

Carmen tied her hair in a knot at the back of her head. Shy tried to talk to her a few times, but she only gave one-word answers.

Shoeshine led them over rolling hills, through tiny run-down neighborhoods built on potholed roads, up a steep paved street that cut through a more modern-looking housing development, which had been badly damaged in the earthquakes. They passed very few people, and nobody hassled them about zones. They just stopped whatever it was they were doing and watched.

By the time the sun was directly overhead, Shy had fallen a few steps behind and he concentrated on the rhythm of his own footsteps. He forgot about Carmen and Shoeshine, and he forgot about the relentless desert heat and the sticky sweat running down his back, and he forgot about the wind whistling past his ears and the buzz of insects and the yips of distant coyotes. He simply walked, occasionally fingering the ring in his pocket. At first he thought about Marcus. Then he thought about what his dad said about back home. But soon he wasn't thinking about anything at all. His mind went blank. And he realized a blank mind was sometimes a powerful thing. Maybe this was why those Buddhist people always sat around meditating. It was like you existed beyond yourself. Or not at all. He couldn't decide which.

Before Shy knew it, the sun began to fall and the temperature dropped. He had to put his shirt back on.

Shoeshine finally stopped at the edge of an overgrown Little League field and pointed his walking stick across a large valley. “You all see that arrowhead in the mountain?”

The sun was setting, but there was still enough light for Shy to make out a faded white shape in the otherwise brown mountainside.

“Some Native Americans believed a giant flaming arrow struck the mountain in ancient times,” Shoeshine went on. “Others believed the arrow pointed to a healing hot spring in the valley.” He paused for a few seconds. “But the truth is, the world is never quite as magical as we want to believe. The arrow is nothing more than a natural formation of quartz.”

Shy stared at the mountainside.

The white part really was shaped like an arrowhead.

“And how do
you
know all this?” Carmen's tone told Shy she wasn't going to forgive Shoeshine anytime soon.

“Because it's where we're going,” Shoeshine answered.

During their never-ending walk, Shy started wondering if Shoeshine had done the right thing. Marcus had lost a whole lot of blood. There was no way he was going to survive without a hospital. It would've been even worse to let him suffer. Hard as it was to see, what else could they have done?

Shoeshine switched the duffel to his other shoulder and started walking down a narrow paved street, toward the distant arrowhead.

“It won't leave my head,” Carmen said, turning to Shy. And then she did something that caught Shy completely off guard. She moved forward and hugged him tightly.

He reached his hands around her back awkwardly. Trying to soothe her. But he didn't know how to soothe anyone. “Shoe would never hurt Marcus if he didn't have to,” he said. “Remember how he draped his own body over Marcus's, back where we found the van?”

Carmen didn't say anything.

Shy cleared his throat. “Me and you both know, Carm…He was losing mad blood. You saw it.”

Carmen sniffled. “But how could he just…?”

Shy held her in silence, staring at the arrowhead in the distance. Carmen was already devastated about Marcus. How would he ever be able to tell her about back home? It wasn't possible.

Carmen pulled away to wipe her face. She looked up at Shy and took a deep breath, then set off after Shoeshine.

Shy did, too.

It was dark by the time they came upon a giant statue of a Native American pointing down a narrow dirt path. The moon gave just enough light for Shy to make out the face of the statue as he walked by.

A few minutes later, they encountered a tall chain-link gate with a large sign tacked onto it.

“What's it say?” Carmen asked.

Shy went right up to the sign and read the words out loud. “ ‘Caution. This property is condemned. Do not enter.' ”

“You made us walk miles and miles to get
here
?” Carmen barked at Shoeshine.

Instead of answering, the man put his thumb and middle finger between his lips and whistled loudly. A few coyotes yipped in the nearby mountainside.

Shy peered through the gate. He could see the outline of a large, old building. And an old water fountain. Then he spotted two men in cowboy hats emerging from behind the fountain, both holding shotguns.

“Uh, Shoe?” Shy said, backing up a few steps. “You sure we didn't make a wrong turn somewhere?”

“Nightwatch?” one of the cowboys called out. “Nightwatch, is that really you?”

“It's me all right, Dale,” Shoeshine called back.

To Shy's surprise, the two men set down their guns and hurried toward the gate. The taller, overweight one pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the dead bolt, and the other man began unraveling the thick chain, opening the gate.

Shy and Carmen looked at each other.

“Wait, you
know
these guys?” Carmen asked Shoeshine.

Both men wrapped Shoeshine in a tight bear hug, but he managed to turn his head toward Shy and Carmen. “I used to work here,” he said.