The Nightworld (14 page)

Chapter 28

The second we hit the street, three guys rush the bike. They must have heard the motor inside the storage warehouse because they’re waiting at the entrance. They don’t look like they belong to the crazies—no jackets with symbols that I can see, just denim and down jackets. But they do look like they mean us harm. The first two get knocked over by the bike, but the third has some time to gauge the situation, and he jumps onto the sidecar. Tank yelps, and then he bites the guy in the thigh—it looks like it hurts. The guy doesn’t let go, though, not until Lara hits him on the head with her pistol. As soon as he’s clear of the bike, I gun it and put on as much speed as I can handle. The last time I was on a bike was summer before last, when Charlie’s stepdad bought one on a whim and let us try it out. It was a little Honda, and it didn’t have a sidecar. Charlie’s stepdad wrecked it after three weeks. I don’t want to wreck this bike. The consequences would be a lot worse than the broken leg that Charlie’s stepdad got.

I carefully and quickly wind through the streets until I see the on-ramp, trying to get familiar with the feel of the bike. The sidecar helps me keep it steady—it’s like the perfect training wheel. I pour on the speed then, and we make it onto the freeway with no other incidents.

For a little while it’s smooth sailing. The freeway isn’t much more crowded than it was when I came into the city with Morton. I’m able to zigzag between the cars that are left. Most of them look like the people in them just got out and walked away. Some are wrecked, some are burned-out shells. The streetlights work for the first few miles.

After about an hour, Lara taps my shoulder and motions for me to pull over. When I do, she swings her leg off the bike and stretches.

“I think we should find a good place to pull over and have some food.”

I look around. A few yards ahead is a van, lying on its side. Rammed into its rear end is a little Toyota pickup. Together they form a great hiding place for the bike.

“Stay here, just while I check that out?” I tilt my head toward it. Lara frowns at me.

“I’m coming.” She sounds a little pissed off.

Before I can say anything, she’s back on the bike. I shake my head and go. I know she won’t listen to me if I try to convince her it’s safer for her to wait here.

The van and the truck are only a few feet off the shoulder, but it’s enough to fit the bike behind them. They are at an angle, forming a wide V shape, so from either approach, the bike can’t be seen very well. I think it might be okay to stop here for a bit. I pull the bike as close to the van’s roof, which is facing away from the freeway, as I can get it. Lara hops off again, and I get Tank unwrapped from his makeshift seatbelt. Lara gets some food out of her pack—a can of sardines and one of peaches. We pop the can tops and share a bottle of water.

“Sardines. Who would have thought I’d be eating them like they were delicious?” Lara laughs and gives one of the oily fish to Tank, who scarfs it down in a half second.

“Lara.” I don’t want to have this talk, but I feel like we have to do it. She looks at me, all traces of laughter gone, almost as though she knows what I’m going to say. “We need to be safe. I think it would be better if you would just let me take the lead sometimes, just until we know what we’re dealing with.” I think it’s a good start. But when I look at her face, I can tell I’ve just made a big mistake.

“Are you talking about back there, when you wanted me to wait for you while you made sure the place was safe for li’l ol’ me?”

Yep. Big mistake.

“Because I can tell you right now, Nick, that will not fly. I am not some little girl you can order around, and I am not going to wait back at the fucking ranch while you go make sure everything’s safe on the prairie or whatever the hell . . .”

I can’t help laughing just a little, but Lara doesn’t think it’s funny. “Look, I get it.” I try for a conciliatory tone. “I know we’re equal, blah blah blah. It’s not about that. It’s just about . . .”

“About what?” She is ready to throw down.

I shrug. “I just worry about you. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” I have never meant anything more. She seems to know it too. Her expression goes from furious to soft.

“Okay. I get that. Because I feel the same way about you.” She looks down for a minute, but then she looks up, fierce, and meets my eyes. “But from now on, we go in together, wherever we go. Because I worry about you too, and me waiting around while you play at some idea that you can keep me safe? That’s not going to work.”

“Deal,” I say. There’s nothing else
to
say, really. She’s right. I probably can’t protect her. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try. Lara seems mollified, and we finish our meal in a more companionable silence. I keep my hand cupped over the flashlight even though I don’t think it illuminates anything past the van’s dark hulk. As I’m drinking the last of the water, we hear it.

It’s distant, but I know it won’t be for long. An engine. Who knows what kind, maybe a truck, maybe that car I saw on my way into the city, driven by a crazy man with a gun. I kill the flashlight and take Lara’s hand. We huddle as close to the roof of the van as we can. We look at each other—her eyes reflect the dread she must see in mine. Tank stays with us; he seems to know something’s wrong. Lara puts her free arm around him and holds him.

The engine gets louder and louder, closer and closer. It must not have a muffler; it feels like the noise is actually going to assault us. As the volume increases, I can feel fear buzzing up my spine. It’s like we’re waiting for some huge fist to make impact, and my reflexes are telling me to duck. I think I actually do duck, just a little, when the thing passes where we are. As it passes, I don’t feel relieved. Instead I imagine the sound of the motor, sputtering to a stop just a few yards past us. I imagine the driver looking back, wondering what it was he saw—a movement? A glint from our motorcycle? I see him reaching for a gun, backing up, scanning the wrecked cars for life.

None of that happens. The vehicle passes us and keeps on going. After a minute or so, we can’t even hear it anymore. I can feel my body relax. Lara takes a deep breath and lets it out.

“Let’s get going,” she says.

We get Tank strapped back into the sidecar, and Lara digs an extra shirt out of her pack to put on under her jacket. It really is cold, and having the wind whip through us while we’re on the bike doesn’t help. It strikes me that Tank might be cold too. I rummage through my own pack; I threw one of the afghans from the couch in Lara’s apartment in there. I wrap it around Tank, tucking in his toes. A few strategic adjustments of the strapping holding him in, and he’s snug and warm. He looks up at me, and I can see in his eyes he’s more comfortable. When I turn around, Lara is watching me, smiling. She tilts her head at me, and it seems like she’s about to say something, but she doesn’t. She just smiles wider and motions toward the bike.

It starts with no problem. I wonder if there will ever be a time again when things like whether the bike starts will feel like less than life-or-death issues. I hope so.

The freeway stretches ahead, an endless dark line.

Chapter 29

We’ve been riding awhile. My butt hurts and I wonder how Lara is feeling. Tank has found a way to use Lara’s pack as a pillow, and he’s asleep, I think. I’m thinking about pulling over for another stop, just to stretch our legs, when Lara squeezes my arm hard.

“What?” I shout back at her, unsure if she can hear me over the bike. She leans forward and puts her mouth close to my ear.

“I saw a light behind us!”

I let up on the gas for a second, and the bike slows.

“No! Keep going.”

I can hear the fear in Lara’s voice. I give the bike more gas and look ahead. The freeway stretches flat for at least another couple of miles, but then there’s a drop-off where it descends into a valley. I turn my head so Lara can hear me better.

“Let me know if they get any closer! I’m going to try to lose them!”

I gun the bike, pouring on speed until I’m going so fast I worry about losing control. I just want to get down the hill with enough time to ditch whoever’s behind us—I just hope there’s an off-ramp.

When we reach the crest of the slope, I could laugh out loud. It’s a long, steep descent, with not one, but
two
off-ramps to choose from. I try to decide: the first one arcs off the freeway gently, eventually ending in an intersection that must lead to the usual gas stations and restaurants. The second is too far ahead to really see, but it looks like it veers off more sharply, and it disappears behind a small hill. The freeway climbs again after that and disappears on the horizon. A perfect setup to ditch a tail.

I decide to take a chance. I head for the second one as fast as I can. Right before it there’s a utility building—one of those metal cubes about the size of a garage that dot the landscape. It’s got a clump of three smallish pine trees nestled up against one side. As I’m passing it, an idea strikes me; I slow way down, turn off the exit ramp, and drive straight for the building. I pull the bike between it and the trees and kill the engine. Lara and I hop off and crouch next to the utility building’s wall, peeking out at the freeway. She shoves my gun at me and sets an extra clip of ammo between us.

“If I get killed, this fits my gun. Make sure you get my gun.”

I stare. “You’re not—”

“Look!” Lara points to the freeway.

We’ve hidden ourselves just in time. The lights of a car pierce the dark at the top of the hill behind us. The car is moving fast at first, but it slows once it clears the rise. I think they’re looking for our taillights. I’m right, because they slow nearly to a stop at the first exit. I can almost hear them wondering which exit we took, that one or the next, or if we took one at all. The car idles for a minute or so—it’s too far away at this point to see the people inside, but the fact that it’s a dark sedan with no markings makes me imagine that they are the kind of people who have two-way radios with them. The kind of people who shoot scientists and teenage kids without a second thought. I hope I’m wrong.

Lara and I wait without a sound. The sedan slowly rolls closer, and I watch with horror as a window rolls down and a high-powered spotlight shines along the side of the road. I glance at the bike: Tank is being quiet, and I don’t see how they could spot the bike or us from the road. Still, I feel like holding my breath. Lara presses closer to me.

All we can do is wait.

It’s so quiet, really, especially when you think about the fact that we are on the side of a major freeway. The only noise is the sound of the black car, its quiet engine humming as it approaches. No birds, no wind, no horns or whizzing semi trucks. I draw back from the side of the building, and Lara and I both flatten ourselves against it. The car must be directly across from us now. I can see the individual needles of one of the tree branches, lit up by the floodlight. And there, in the cold dark, sweating underneath my jacket, I hear the sound I was hoping not to hear: the crackling static of a walkie-talkie.

The government men have followed us somehow. I know that it seems silly to think that just because they have walkie-talkies that they’re the same guys—but I know. I just know. They’re looking for the device. I know we’re dead if they find us.

I squeeze Lara’s hand and turn to look at her. She’s looking back, and I can see some of the fear she’s feeling. But I see something else too, something like . . . focus, I guess. She’s right here. With me. And she’s telling me that, with her eyes, with the pressure of her hand. I gather myself and try to let her know the same thing. If we die here, I want her to know I was with her.

The car engine hums louder, and we can hear that it’s gaining some speed. After a couple of seconds, I risk peeking out again, and I see its taillights heading uphill, away from us. I wait, frozen, until it disappears from sight over the hill. Then I let out my breath.

“They might double back. Let’s just sit here for a few minutes.” Lara sounds as relieved as I feel.

“Better yet, let’s just camp here for the night.” I look around at our cover. The three trees and the building will hide us pretty well from almost all angles. As long as we don’t light a fire, we should be able to sleep here safely.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Lara relaxes against the building.

After about fifteen minutes, we decide it might be safe to get some stuff from the bike. I grab our packs and Lara unstraps Tank. She loops the end of the strapping through his collar. “Last thing we need is for him to run off sniffing.”

“Good thinking. He might, and then we’d be in trouble.” I watch as she takes him to the edge of the tree cover and waits for him to pee. Then they come back to the back of the building. I spread the sleeping bag out and we all sit on it. We manage to assemble a half-decent dinner of cold canned chicken soup and some more water for all of us, including Tank. We make our bed as well as we can, and Tank snuggles in with us. I look up at the sky.

“I don’t know the last time I saw the moon,” I say. “The cloud cover seems to be permanent.”

“I wonder,” whispers Lara, “what really
is
permanent now. “ She sounds weary. “Is it always going to be dark?”

“I hope not,” I say. Tank groans, as though he’s telling us both to keep it down. Lara laughs.

“I guess we’d better go to sleep. Tank’s trying to get his rest.”

“Good night,” I say, and before I know what I’m doing, I lean over and kiss her. I mean it to be a soft, good-night sort of kiss, but it turns into a melting, throbbing sort of kiss that radiates throughout my body. She kisses me right back, with so much heat that I finally have to push her away. I know we’re both wishing we were in a place where we could lose ourselves to the feelings we’re having. But we’re not. I pull up on one elbow and swallow.

“Sorry.” I feel a little embarrassed.

“Sorry for what?”

“Well, maybe, I shouldn’t . . .”

“I feel the same way you do, Nick.” I can see Lara’s eyes glittering in the dark. “Don’t be sorry. But you’re right, we’d better get some rest, because we have a long way to go yet.”

I nod. “Want to spoon instead?”

Lara laughs. “I do want to spoon.” She rolls over so I can hold her and we make our bodies fit together. It’s warm, and I’m almost happy.