Monster of the Apocalypse (17 page)

The bike proved to be well equipped and road worthy. As Zip inventoried the contents of the stranger’s belongings he “Tra-la-la’d” under his breath. He didn’t know exactly where he had picked up the melody, but it made him happy. Placing the bike where the solar collectors were fully exposed to the sun, he went inside to gather any possessions he would take with him. There wasn’t much. Thirst drove him back to the cooler with the drinks. He shoved the body aside to reach one and went back outside to sit in the shade as he drank.

Zip had a decision to make. Which direction should he go? South was Las Vegas and a cold trail to Cotton. There was little expectation of finding him, and it would be dangerous going to a large city with no wingman to watch his back. He remembered Carson City and the hospital set up as a fortress. There would probably be better odds in going there. Because he hadn’t seen Hey You on his short stay there, he was only expecting to find Hal. It might be a good place to l
ie up for a while and weigh his options. Hal might even know where Deo and his sister had gone. Hell, they might even still be there. You never knew. The old man with the shotgun sheathed on his chaps would be gone for sure. Zip knew he was a wanderer and unlikely to stay anywhere long. Zip’s brow furrowed as he went over the possibilities. Yup, now he had a clear direction.

He went back to get another drink. No reason to limit them now. He was leaving. As he sat, savoring the relative coolness of the shade and the chill of his drink, he began constructing a new fantasy where he found Deo and used his sister before killing him.

Leaving in the morning,
mañana
, seemed best. There was one thing left to do. He found his old spit kit, razor, soap, and scissors and drew a bath.

The vehicles inside the garage in Carson still held a charm for Deo. He went to drool over them several times a year. The dark blue, Mustang bodied GT 500 was his particular favorite. A little research had produced enough information that he now knew it to be a ’67. Originally built by a man known for an affinity for speed and excellence in design, this one had been transformed by another that appreciated quality modifications. The old fossil fuel power plant had been replaced by an electric alternative. The original designer might have questioned that choice, but he surely would have been intrigued by the impressive numbers in acceleration that the change generated. Other modifications, light and unobtrusive, were more difficult to spot but made the entire package a beast of a machine. What Deo could not know was that this particular machine, before its engine transplant, had raced across the United States in an illegal race.
An extra sixty-gallon tank replacing the back seat and highly classified radar absorption material under the fiberglass cowl were only a small part of the arsenal it once carried.

Even though the ’67 couldn’t be charged, he still had access to the solar options in the
storage facility. Each time he visited, a different vehicle would get pushed out into the sun to renew a charge. So far only one had failed to run. He stored it in back of the others just in case he ever found some way to repair it. This morning, before he took the time to renew his acquaintance with the Mustang, he pushed a dirt bike to the middle of the parking area where the sun was most direct. Now, sitting in the object of his affection, he heard a noise outside the door.

Deo had no expectation of being disturbed. He was puzzled. Carrie was studying and would be until he returned. Between that and the children needing attention, he knew it wouldn’t be her. Lecti and Eleon had a project they were working on in Virginia City, and leaving their child in Carrie’s care, had left early to spend the day there.

Coming down the hill into Carson, Zip headed west on highway 50, missing the turn on Arrowhead Drive. That was the route he and Cotton had taken out of town. As he passed the garage where Deo was admiring the machinery and waiting for the bike to charge, Zip noticed the motorcycle in the center of the parking area. It looked new and out of place amidst the debris-strewn patches of asphalt and concrete in the surrounding area.

His curiosity was piqued, and he decided to investigate. Making little noise, he did a quick one eighty and pulled up next to the dirt bike. He took a fast look around before he dismounted his bike. Noting the open man door on the garage and the tracks leading from one of the roll-ups, he knew that there was someone inside.

A new weapon hung at his hip. He released the thong that kept it securely holstered.

The best possible explanation of the noise outside was that a stranger had shown up. Deo slipped out of the car and adjusted the pistol on his thigh, tying the leather cord that trailed off the bottom of the holster around his leg. Better to be prepared. He had the advantage being in the dark as he exited the door, as long as the person outside hadn’t decided to find cover and wait for him to show. If that were the case, Deo would lay back and try to wait him out. Approaching the door he was relieved to see the newcomer step around the two parked bikes and start toward him as though he had no ill intent. Deo moved into the light. There was something about the man that Deo couldn’t place. A canvas hat with a wide brim obscured the top of his face.
The jacket. It looked familiar.

As soon as Deo exited the garage, Zip realized who he was. The light beard and the heavier muscles did nothing to hide the identity of Deo from him. He couldn’t believe his good fortune. This kid was dead. He wasn’t going to wait. The sister would come later when he found her.

Practice makes perfect, and Eleon made sure Deo practiced with the pistol until his hands blistered. Drawing it came as naturally as using a fork to eat. The instant that Zip made his move, Deo reacted. Zip got off a shot, but it went wild as his hand was flung sideways from the impact of a round taking his thumb off. It was a brag shot, and Eleon would have disapproved, but Deo was confident in his abilities. Zip looked down at what remained, stunned, and let out a whimper.

The slug that was intended for Deo’s heart had creased only the faded denim at the top of his shoulder. The heat of the moment was subsiding and Deo was cool enough to think of how
funny it was that he had come to realize he might lose his favorite shirt.

The stranger raised his head, and for the first time Deo met his eyes directly. Without any conscious thought Deo put a bullet in the stranger’s left hand as it supported him where he had collapsed.

Zip tilted over and fell onto the concrete, completely prone.

“I guess you won’t be beating any women now, will ya?” asked Deo.

Zip was preparing to beg for his life when the next slug created a four-inch exit in the back of his head.

Deo found a home for Zip’s bike in the back of the garage next to the one that didn’t run. No use wasting a good piece of equipment. The body found a ditch behind the
garage, some old tires that lay in the field behind moved to obscure it from sight. A few buckets of sand soaked up the blood, although there would be stains.

Wondering at how Eleon had fooled him as well as Lecti, Deo mused over what had happened. He would think about it often, but decided to keep it to himself for the moment at least. Eventually he would tell Carrie. In the meantime, the motorcycle he had left in the sunshine was fully c
harged, and the hills beckoned.