The Girl at the End of the World (11 page)

Then I got out and dried off, got dressed, and found a blow dryer for my hair. That felt weird: using some dead woman’s blow dryer and brushes and mirror to make myself feel close to normal one last time.
But not weird enough to stop me. When I was finished, I wrapped the cord neatly around the handle and set the dryer down on the vanity counter. Looking in the mirror, I saw the same old me. I gave myself a half-smile, letting my dimples come to life again, and headed out, telling myself I’d be back. It’s funny what you assume sometimes.

I was only a block along Los
Feliz, heading back to the road into Griffith Park, when I realized something was seriously wrong. Some of the cars left in the middle of the street—cars whose positions I’d just about memorized while zipping around on my little Honda—had moved during the time I’d been at the solar house. I don’t mean they’d
moved.
I mean they’d
been moved
. Violently.

I sat on the Honda, the engine idling under me, and looked at the black marks on the road where the tires had rubbed, looked at the dents and scratches in the fenders where the cars had been pushed…but by what? Turning my head, I could make out what looked like a cleared path of cars along the street for a good distance behind me. In the other direction, the path continued, stopping at the entrance into the park.

Trembling, I thought about the flash of movement I’d seen from the hilltop the day before and the lanterns I’d foolishly set out on the wall overnight. A beacon. It had drawn something, all right. Something powerful. Someone had a powerful vehicle or some other force to be reckoned with, and they’d used it to come looking for the beacon, to come looking for me. The solar powered house had only been a block below Los Feliz, and I should have heard the commotion from there with everything else so quiet…but maybe not with the shower running and the music blaring and the blow dryer blasting hot air and a stream of noise at my head.

Mistake after mistake after mistake.
Tears of frustration filled my eyes as I thought of the observatory and everything I had stored there, set aside to get me through, to ensure my survival for just a little longer. Someone was going through it right now, someone with enough power to get rid of obstacles, a fifteen-year-old girl included. The thing I was most upset about losing—because I
did
think of it as lost now—was the framed photo of my family. I imagined someone picking it up, looking at it, and tossing it down, the glass cracking.

The thought made me so angry that I kicked the Honda into gear and sped down the road toward the park entrance. Not worried about stealth or safety, not concerned about someone on
my
observation platform watching me through
my
binoculars or even through the scope of a high-powered rifle, I tore around corners, going up and up the winding road I’d gotten so used to over the last few weeks.

I slowed as I neared the top, though, and thought about walking the rest of the way up to the Winnebago and beyond. It wouldn’t do to go flying headlong into an ambush. Nothing good could come from that. But at the same time, I knew that if someone
was up here, they’d come expecting to find the observatory occupied. With the place empty, they’d be counting on my return at some point, and the sound of the little Honda’s engine would have carried up here from a long way down. They knew I was coming. If I tried switching to stealth mode now, it wouldn’t do any good.

Even so, as I cleared the last corner and caught sight of the motor home at the top of the hill, I did stop the bike for a few seconds. The Winnebago looked untouched, unmoved.

Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe whoever or whatever had rammed those cars aside down on the street had just kept going, passing the entrance to the park and moving on toward Hollywood. All the cars that blocked the road to the observatory had already been moved out of the way—by me. So there hadn’t really been any sign of another person or a moving vehicle since I’d turned off Los Feliz. Maybe I’d just assumed they’d come up here after pushing all those cars aside. Or maybe they had found the Winnebago too big an obstacle, and then just turned around and went back down the hill. I’d missed the whole show during my luxurious shower, and now they were going to leave me alone, all because of the blockade I’d stuck at the top of the hill.

I didn’t really believe that, but there was still a moment’s hope.

Giving the Honda more gas, I finished the climb and then got off the bike when I reached the motorhome. Pulling the gun from my backpack, I looked carefully at the old camper. It hadn’t been moved, and no new dents had appeared on its side. Whatever had pushed the cars aside down below had left the Winnebago alone, and I was grateful for that. Still, I decided it was best to walk the rest of the way to the observatory.

Ducking around the Winnebago, I just stood and surveyed the area for a moment. Nothing seemed changed. There was no sign of people; nothing had been moved in the parking lot. And yet I felt vulnerable just standing there, knowing there was still a chance someone had gotten into the building before me. So, sticking close to the edge of the sidewalk that rimmed the hilltop, I started running, trying to duck as I went to make myself a smaller target should someone with bad intentions be watching from inside the observatory.

Still no signs of life from the building. I stopped at the statue of James Dean, hiding behind it for a moment and waiting, listening. Nothing. Maybe they really had chosen to leave me alone. I couldn’t believe it, though. The old Winnebago across the road couldn’t have been
that
intimidating.

I decided not to go up to the main entrance. That might be what anyone who’d just gotten here might expect. No, I ran down the stairs along the side of the building and into the cafeteria area where I’d made my base. Again, all looked undisturbed. I went back to the office where I’d been sleeping, quickly surveyed the scene, and then slipped the photo of my family into my backpack after determining that no one had been here either.

The same held true for the rest of the building. For almost an hour, I swept through it as carefully as I’d done on the first day, checking every room and hallway, cautiously rounding every corner inside and out with my gun in my hand and telling myself I might actually have to use it.

Nothing. There was no one there. Just me.

I sat down on my lounge chair after completing my search and took some deep breaths. Feeling worn out from being on such high alert the whole time I’d searched the building, I wanted nothing more than to sit, to be able to read my book and feel the breeze and have everything be like the day before, but I knew I couldn’t do that.

Someone else shared the city with me, someone who’d figured out how to harness a powerful vehicle where I’d opted for a little trail bike, someone who pushed things out of the way where I went around them. And that someone knew I was up here. Of that I was still certain. Maybe they hadn’t opted to raid my fortress, but they’d been nearby and hadn’t been worried about keeping their presence a secret. Maybe they’d leave me alone. But I doubted it. I felt like I was now a player in a huge game of chess; the rearranged cars on Los
Feliz having been my opponent’s latest move. And now I was left to figure out what it meant, what the strategy could be, how the next three or four moves would go and how best to counter them.

I had no idea how to start figuring this out, though: I’d always been lousy at chess.

“Hello?”

The voice came from down the hill, a man’s voice calling out.

I wanted to jump to my feet and run to the edge of the observation deck so I could peer over and see, but I forced myself to stay planted to the lounge chair.

“Anybody up there?”

My heart pounding, I slid off the chair and into a crouch. With the gun held tightly in one hand, I slunk my way over to the wall, careful not to expose myself to whoever was coming up the hill. Several hiking trails led up to the observatory, and I guessed that my visitor was on one of these. My position above him and behind the thick wall that bordered the observation deck gave me a complete advantage over the man, but that didn’t make me breathe any easier.

“I don’t want to hurt you or anything. Not trying to scare you, okay? You want me to go, I’ll go.”

To call out, or not to call out? Let him know I’m here, or make him keep guessing?

I couldn’t decide, which was a decision itself. Stuck between choices, the result was not calling out, keeping him guessing.

“I saw your light last night.”

He sounded young, not threatening. I knew that didn’t mean anything, though.

The longer I waited, the closer he’d get. Whichever trail he was on, it would end at the top of the hill soon enough, and then he’d be exploring the observatory. I wouldn’t know where he’d be. Right now I did know. I decided to hang onto whatever advantage that gave me.

“What do you want?” I called out, still keeping myself below the top of the wall.

There was a moment’s pause from him, during which I had to wonder if he’d heard me, if I’d been loud enough. Then I heard him say, “I just want to find out who’s up here. I thought I was all alone till I saw your light.”

“There are other lights left on. You go looking at every one?”

“No. Yours is the first new one I’ve seen, though. The first new anything I’ve seen. You must have thought someone would come looking.”

He had me there.

“I wasn’t sure,” I called out.

“What’s your name?”

I didn’t want to say. Not that it made a difference. I could have given him any name I wanted. I just didn’t like him knowing anything about me. Or thinking he knew.

“You first,” I yelled.

“Chad,” he said right away.

“Chad what?”

“Chad Maxwell,” he answered without hesitation. Probably not a lie.

“Are you alone?”

He actually laughed at that.

“Well, yeah, I’m alone,” he said after a second. “Never been more alone in my life.”

“How’d you move all those cars down below?” I asked.

“Cars?” he asked. “I came on foot.”

“You didn’t have anything to do with it?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

I didn’t like that answer. Could there really be two people who’d seen the lights? This Chad person and someone else who had the power to move those cars out of the way on Los Feliz? It seemed doubtful to me.

“Where have you been staying?”

“I found a house with solar power and got enough bottled water and canned food out of a grocery store to get by on. Not as good a spot as what you picked.”

“So what now? You want to try and take it from me?”

“No.” He sounded confused, maybe even hurt. “I just wanted to see who’s up here. I mean, we’re neighbors now, right? Even if I’m half a city away, we’re still neighbors. I figured it made more sense to see if we could maybe help each other rather than both of us just going it alone. You know?”

Slowly, I stood up, just high enough to be able to see over the wall and ready to duck again if anything seemed wrong. He stood on the bare hiking trail not far below the deck—not a man, I saw now, but a kid, like me, with sandy hair and a scruff of beard, cargo shorts and a striped t-shirt with a hole in the sleeve. His hands were empty, but he had a backpack on his shoulders.

“What’s in the bag?” I asked as I held my gun up for him to see.

He put both hands out in front of him, palms facing me in an effort to keep me calm. “Just some supplies,” he said, trying to sound reassuring.

Slowly, with one hand, he slipped the pack off his shoulders and bent to open it.

“Don’t shoot me, okay?”

I didn’t say anything, just watched, glad he wasn’t taking an aggressive tone.

From the backpack, he drew a bottle of water, a hat and sunglasses, and some small packages, probably energy bars. Their foil wrappers glinted in the sun. Then he tipped the bag upside down and shook it gently to show me that nothing else was coming out.

“See?” he called. “Just supplies. Nothing scary. I promise. I didn’t come up here to try and hurt you. Or take away your…observatory.”

I thought about it for a few seconds, then nodded. “All right. Come up.”

Trying to keep an eye on him, I watched him re-pack his things and begin up the trail again as I went along the edge of the observation deck toward the side of the building that had access to the main entrance. I wanted to be out front when he got to the top of the trail.

It took him several minutes. The trail didn’t come straight up to the observatory but must have deposited him somewhere near the road and the Winnebago. When he rounded the side of the old motorhome, I tensed a bit and gripped the gun a little tighter, wondering if I could actually use it if I felt threatened. So far, he seemed all right, but I couldn’t be sure. He might have been telling the truth, and he might not have. The phrase
those cars didn’t move themselves
kept running through my head, keeping me focused.

He must have read my mind, as he stopped halfway across the parking lot, raised his hands over his head for a moment, and then slipped off the backpack, letting it drop to the asphalt without giving it a glance. Then he started walking again.