Lost and Found (17 page)

"It wasn't for any of us." Drake's eyes glazed over as he stared at the wall.

"Who was the person you were traveling with?" It was a personal question. One that
I intended to lead into the conversation about what he saw over the last few months.

"Someone I met on the road. He was a nice guy. A good guy. Had a family before the
bug hit. Was a couple years older than me."

"What was his name?" I asked.

"Lewis. Lewis something." He finally blinked and looked from the wall to me again.
"More?" He leaned forward, snatching the bottle of wine - it was our second - and
poured some in my glass before waiting for my answer.

It was as good a time as any to bring up my questions. "Drake, do you know where the
asshole that nearly killed you is?"

His hand tightened around his glass, but instead of getting defensive or shutting
down completely, he surprised me by nodding. "Yup. I've known where that fucker's
been hiding out for a while now."

"Really? Mind sharing?" I sipped my wine and tried to stay calm. But I felt like my
intentions were written all over my face. I didn't want to tell Drake that the moment
I knew that information would be my last moment with him.

"There's not much to share. They mostly hang out at one of those food warehouses.
It's smart, really. There's enough packaged grub in that place to last the lot of
them for years. They stay the night there in shifts and took over a housing complex
near the building."

I looked away from him, lost in thought.
A warehouse. A housing complex.
It was a lot of ground to cover by myself.

"How many of them are there, exactly?" I chewed on the inside of my cheek. This would
take more thought than I first imagined.

"There were thirteen men. Now I think there's eleven or so," he said with a crooked
grin.

"Were?"

"Let's just say an opportunity presented itself," he laughed. His wine glass was empty
again. I watched him refill it and take another gulp.

"What did you do?" I was genuinely curious and leaned toward him while he spoke.

"About a month before you came along I followed a pair of them across town while they
were on one of their patrols. Pathetic really, the two of them were. They spent an
hour talking about naked women and golf. Golf. I mean fucking really? It wasn't hard.
I waited for them to split. When the younger guy went to take a leak, I snuck up behind
him with my hunting knife. The other one got it in the back. Right between the shoulder
blades." With one hand over the other, he made a swift, downward motion in the air
between us.

"Really? It was that easy?"

"Taking a life, or taking out those two idiots?"

"I don't know, both?"

He shifted around in the seat and for a moment, I thought he was going to get up and
leave me there alone with the wine. "I'm not sorry. Fuckers deserved it. I know they've
taken down more like us, who were just passing through here. And I think they have
a girl or two tucked away in that building. Haven't stuck around long enough to find
out what for, but I can imagine."

I sat upright so suddenly that wine sloshed out of my glass and Drake flinched. "What
do you mean, like they have them there as prisoners?"

"Why the hell is that exciting?" he asked, looking at me sideways with an arched brow
pointing toward the beamed ceiling.

"Oh, you have no idea," I jumped off the couch and nearly broke the stem of my glass
as I slammed it down on the table. After pulling the magnetic notepad and pen off
the refrigerator, I hurried back into the sitting room to find Drake just where I
had left him, with the same surprised expression on his un-groomed face.

"Here, show me," I said, handing the notepad and small pen to him.

He waved them at me. "Show you
what
?"

"Where this warehouse is."

The wine had gotten to him, I could see it in his foggy eyes but he wasn't at all
fooled. After setting his own glass down on the table with a clink, he stood to face
me and tapped his finger into my chest almost hard enough to make me sway.

"What are
you
doing here, Riley?" he asked, emphasizing each word with another sturdy poke of his
finger.

"Stop that!" I said, slapping his hand away.

"Are you looking for someone?"

"Maybe. It doesn't matter. Just…just please tell me where this warehouse is. And I
promise you won't have to worry about me anymore."

He rocked back on his heels like I had struck him in the face. "I'm not forcing you
to stay here, you can leave whenever you want," he said through gritted teeth.

"That's not what I meant," I sighed. "Don't you think that I'm just as mad at them
as you are? They took Connor and Kris from me. And, yes, if you really want to know,
we were looking for someone. A woman."

"I think I'm entirely too drunk to have this conversation right now." He turned to
walk away and I grabbed at his arm, getting a fistful of shirt instead.

"No. Let's talk about it now. Why
won't
you tell me? What does it matter to you?"

With a shrug, he loosened my grip on his shirt and snapped at me, "Because you'll
fuck up my plans! Damn, you're nosy!"

"You
are
planning something. I knew it! Why else would you stay here after what happened?
Oh, this all makes perfect sense now. What is it, what are you going to do? And don't
think you can just walk away and not tell me, I'll beat it out of you if I need to."
Drake was half-way up the stairs with me hot on his heels, reluctant to allow him
to end the conversation by escaping into his room. Which is exactly what he was trying
to do.

"I'm sure as hell not telling you! You'll go out there and get yourself killed. Stop,
let go!" He growled at me as I yanked at the back of his shirt, efficiently stopping
him in the hallway before he could get to his room.

"No way, tell me. It's not your right to keep this to yourself," I hissed back.

In a blur, I was slammed up against the wall and nearly lifted off my feet before
I realized Drake's mouth was on mine. My first instinct was to kiss him back but,
seconds later, it was Connor's face that I saw. In a panic, I squirmed out from beneath
him, pushing firmly on his chest but getting no leeway. When we parted, he brought
the back of his hand to his mouth and I noticed it was shaking - just like my knees
were.

"Shit," he mumbled, "I didn't mean to do that. Sorry." He turned away and left me
standing in the hall. His door closing behind him so softly that I barely heard it
click.

"I'm sorry too,"
I whispered. Unsure if I meant it for Drake or for Connor.

I wasn't surprised when I heard him stomp down the stairs at dawn. It sounded like
he left through the front door and I didn't dare go downstairs till I knew he was
gone. The spacious house seemed too quiet with just me inside it. Full of nervous
energy, I cleaned the kitchen, the sitting room and took several bags of trash out
into the garage. Drake didn't return until I was finally sitting on the couch, peeling
back the wrapper to a stale granola bar.

When he opened the front door, he seemed surprised to see me. "Hey," he said awkwardly.

I nodded, covering my mouth as I chewed. He propped the door open and stepped back
outside, pulling a wagon full of chopped wood bundles into the house. A gust of cold
wind followed him inside and I shivered, pulling my sleeves down to my wrists.

As if he felt an explanation was needed, he grumbled under his breath without looking
at me, "We're almost out of fire wood."

"Okay," I managed to say, with a mouthful of food tucked into my cheek.

After a few minutes, there was a wooden bundle at the foot of every fireplace and
then he promptly disappeared into the kitchen. I waited for him to come back out but
after nearly twenty minutes, I figured he wasn't in a hurry to speak with me. I found
him leaning against the counter, flipping through a luxury boat magazine with an open
jar of dill pickles within reach.

"You don’t have to avoid me, you know," I said, startling him.

"You don't have to sneak up on people like that," he said, not taking his eyes off
the open magazine. "Plus, I'm not avoiding anything."

"Can I have a taste?" I asked.

"What?" He looked almost panicked as I moved toward him with my hand out.

"A pickle. You're not going to eat the whole jar, are you?"

"Oh. Sure. Here," he said, handing the open jar to me.

"What did you think I meant?"

He shook his head, returning back to the magazine. I tried not to laugh at how intently
he was staring at an advertisement page for some sort of medication.

"Look…about last night," I started.

"It was stupid, I know. Won't happen again," he said quickly.

"It's not a big deal. It's just, I can't."

"Really, I didn't mean it," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "Think I was just
drunk and being stupid."

"You were mad at me," I pointed out.

"Maybe a little," he laughed. Finally he closed the magazine and dipped his fingers
into the jar I was still holding. After biting a pickle in half, he gestured at the
front of me. "You wouldn't get far."

"What do you mean?" I tried not to sound insulted.

"You're all balls-out. These shits have been running this town for months. They've
got a system down. There might not be a lot of them, but you won't get five feet if
you just try and storm the place."

"Oh."

He lifted his eyebrow at me. A gesture I was beginning to become familiar with. "I'm
sure I could manage. Especially with a little help," I said.

Both his eyebrows shot up that. "You aren't serious."

"But, I really am," I winked.

Shaking his head, he took the pickle jar from me and walked into the sitting room,
kicking his shoes off before propping them up on the glass table.

"So, tell me about this plan you seem to be hatching," he said with a grin.

***

After a considerable amount of arguing from Drake and pathetic begging on my part,
he finally agreed to take me to one of his lookout spots. The safest way to go unnoticed
was to sneak in at night, he told me.

"We're only going to watch, unless something unplanned happens, understand?" Drake
asked as we quietly walked down the sidewalks until the darkness of the nearby golf
course came into view.

"I got it," I whispered back, adjusting the straps of my pack on my shoulders, making
sure they were tight enough to stay on if I had to run.

Both of us were armed but our guns were tucked inside our packs, buried under the
modest rations we would need for our overnight stakeout. Strapped securely to my right
thigh was a six-inch hunting knife with a wicked serrated edge. It was an exact match
to the blade that Drake wore on his left thigh. He spent several hours showing me
how to properly thrust and maintain a strong hold on the blade. After a day of practicing
with it, I was confidant I could use it if I had to.

It was a moonless night, perfect for creeping through shadows and around buildings.
But still, I was nervous about being seen or worse - caught. I followed Drake closely.
I stepped only where he stepped, touching only what he touched. Within a half hour,
we were crouched at the fence that bordered the backyard of a residence and the course.
Except at that particular spot, there were trees obscuring my view of the wide area
between our side of the Santa Ana River Trail and to the side we needed to get. It
was the perfect place to wait for a safe time to cross.

"Got your scope ready?"
he whispered.

It was already out of the pack and in my hand, so I held it up for him to see. I nodded
at Drake as he signaled at the tree and watched him scale the trunk in silence. The
night was dark enough that all I could see around me were the shapes of structures.
It was hard to tell in the distance if they were houses, apartments or office buildings.
If it was hard for us to see, hopefully it was equally as hard for anyone else looking
out along the golf course to spot us.

A hiss sound came from the tree above me, so I flattened myself onto the damp grass
and pressed the pocket scope against my eye, scanning the buildings across the way
with the night vision tool. The rooftops were clear but it was impossible to see inside
each window. I stayed on the ground, sweeping back and forth across the buildings
until a soft thump landed beside me.

Drake crouched at my elbow with his own pocket scope held to his face. "It looks clear,
but we have to hurry just in case." He tucked the scope into the front pocket of his
camouflage jacket and waited for me to do the same before standing. "We'll run straight
that way, through those trees," he pointed northeast. "Don’t stop until you get to
the last one and then we'll check with the scopes before crossing the water."

"Okay."

"Are you really ready? Once we get out there, we'll be exposed and if they see us…well,
you know the plan."

I did know the plan. We would separate - one of us fleeing east, while the other went
west until we were certain we weren't being followed. Not until then, would we work
our way back to the house.

I nodded but Drake squeezed my arm until I said the words out loud,
"Yes. I'm ready - let's go."

Without another word, he rushed into the trees, following the curve of them across
the south side of the course. I pumped my legs hard to keep up with him. Within seconds,
we were huddled behind our last bit of cover. After doing another sweep of the nearby
buildings, Drake sprinted out across a weed-filled sand trap and I bolted in line
behind him. When our feet hit the riverbed, we ran through less than an inch of water
but it still sprayed noisily up around us. The sound seemed to echo through the entire
area but I didn't stop until my feet hit the north side of the course and I almost
collided into Drake as we both came to a stop under the same tree. He was barely out
of breath but my lungs were on fire. My nostrils flared as I kept my hand clamped
to my mouth in an attempt to stay quiet, but what I really wanted to do was double
over and breathe like a woman in labor.

"This way,"
he whispered, heading off through the few bent and scraggly trees nearby before the
course trail came into view. We waited there, listening for sounds in the buttoned
up night. Something chirped in the grass a few meters away, but it was otherwise silent.

We jogged along the concrete trail, following the curve of it around a small berm.
The walking trail opened up before us with a residential neighborhood just on the
other side. Drake nearly collided into the fencing that was obscured under a severely
overgrown bush. After launching ourselves into the heavily weeded backyard, we crept
our way along the side of the stucco house until we reached the street. From there
we walked quietly and quickly, stopping only to crane our necks and listen to the
inhibited night.

Only a few minutes through the neighborhood I noticed a burnt smell that drifted in
the breeze overwhelming my senses. My nose became raw from rubbing it, and the further
east we walked, the stronger the smell was.

"What is that?"
I whispered.

"I don't want to know,"
Drake answered.
"There, see that building?"
He pointed between two houses at the next block where several buildings stood tall
and dark in the distance.

We pulled our scopes out and scanned the area, seeing no activity. "Is that the one?"
I asked.

After jogging between the houses and scaling more fences and brick barriers, we crossed
a major road before ending up in a parking lot. I stayed close to Drake as he led
me toward one of the large, brick office buildings, dodging debris and blown out remnants
of windows from the lowest levels. Once inside, we took the stairs up to the roof.
After eight stories of taking two steps at a time, I was exhausted and ready for a
nap, but once we stepped onto the roof and cool air slapped me across the face, my
adrenaline kicked in.

"See that shiny building over there," he said just above a whisper.

I crouched down below the ledge to look at the building across the street, half the
height of the one we were hiding on top of. "Yeah."

"That's where they usually camp out and keep an eye on the trail. There's another
one just up there," he pointed east and I followed his hand further up the street
where a similar building stood. It was hard to make it out in the darkness, but it
was there.

"Is that where they were when they shot me?"

"Probably. They have the advantage there. It's not the highest viewpoint, but anyone
passing by will be seen. If they're looking. Plus, if the first sentry doesn't have
a good shot, the second one will. Now they only come here in pairs."

I grimaced at the buildings, as if it was their fault that this group of post-pandemic
terrorists had staked their claim on the river passage. With our height advantage,
I could see the entire roof area and with the scope, I could also make out a pair
of camping chairs and a small chest set near the low ledge right in the center of
the building. Facing the golf course.

"Why aren't they there now?"

"It's still early," Drake said, sliding down against the ledge. We had enough room
to stand without necessarily being seen, but I slid below sight too, tugging my pack
off my shoulders before leaning against the cool cement wall.

"What do we do now?" I asked, rifling through my pack, pretending to look for something.

"We wait," he answered with a shrug.

***

The first lookout didn't show up until midnight. I had gone through half a bottle
of water and a granola bar waiting. Even though we popped out from our hiding spot
every five minutes or so to look down at the building or the streets, it was the screech
of a walkie-talkie we heard that let us know we weren't alone anymore.

The mechanical sound echoed down the street below and we both peered through our night
vision scopes to see a dark shape walk into the closest glass building. Drake looked
between the two structures, finally spotting the other lookout crossing the adjoining
parking lot.

"Where'd they come from?" I asked quietly.

"Not sure," he paused, scanning the area around and below us. "I guess they're staying
somewhere closer now. We might have walked right by their house."

A chill spread up my spine at his words. "Perfect."

He laughed softly and put the scope back up to his face. "Well, there's our boy."

It was definitely a man that paced the perimeter of the roof before settling into
one of the chairs. He sat there for a good ten minutes before the other lookout appeared
on the much larger roof of the next building. They sent a series of signals to each
other with flashlights and then both appeared to settle into their chairs, riffles
draped across their legs.

"So, we know they are still coming here," I said softly, "But the question is where
will they go when they're done?"

Drake's arm brushed mine as he leaned against the wall, moving his scope from one
building to the next. "That's what we're here to find out, right?"

***

"Where'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

"The two men you killed…where did it happen?" I asked.

"Oh. You really want to talk about this
now
?" He looked at me sideways, his brown eyebrow arched upward. I couldn't tell if he
was interested or annoyed with me.