Domino Falls (11 page)

“You might not find what you're looking for,” Terry said. “It might always feel this way for a while, Kendra. No matter where you are.”

Kendra was surprised by Terry's insight, and a bit nervous. She stared at her grubby sneakers walking on the street's smooth cobblestones. “I don't know what I'm looking for,” Kendra said. “I just know I have to talk to her. At least this one time.” She paused. “That man was begging to see his
daughter.
” She couldn't forget it, even now.

“I know,” Terry said. “It creeped me out too. But let's keep a low profile.”

They stopped talking when two men approached from the opposite direction. Kendra was glad to feel Terry's gun pressed to her side as they kept close. The men strode past them without slowing, leaving plenty of space among them, all of them pretending they weren't trying so hard to keep out of one another's way.

A dim light was on inside the gas station, although the first gas pump wore a sign that said
NO GAS TILL FRIDAY
.

The gas station's convenience store was small, its shelves modestly stocked. Each item for sale had a detailed label instead of a price:
Will trade for batteries,
said the label beneath a precious-looking bottle of motor oil. A box of Almond Joy candy bars was marked
Make an offer.
Tempting.

The young woman behind the counter was buried in a copy of
Mademoiselle
dated the year before, and Kendra wondered how many times she'd flipped through the wrinkled pages. “No gas till Friday,” she said. “Probably Saturday, truth be told.”

Kendra spotted the small ham radio under the counter. The black box–like device looked like a bulky CD player covered with knobs and windows.

“Do you let people use your radio?”

“Depends,” the woman said. “Why do you want it?”

“To call Devil's Wake? I might have family there. It's—”

The woman glanced at the wall clock, an old glittering image of the Bay Bridge, something from a tourist shop. It was after seven-thirty. “Might be a little late for Max to be there,” she said, “but let's give him a try.”

The drumming began in Kendra's chest again. Terry gave her a warning look—
Don't get your hopes up,
he seemed to say. What was wrong with hoping?

The attendant operated the radio for her, calling out with a cigarette-roughened voice. “This is CrazyLady, Domino Falls, California. Looking for Devil's Wake,” she said. She waited a few seconds, and then repeated her call. “Devil's Wake—do you copy?”

Kendra's chest felt tight. What if no one answered?

The radio sputtered to life. “CrazyLady?” There was static. “You're dropping out.”

“Newbie asked me to give you a holler,” the woman said, and gave Kendra the handheld transmitter. “Quick, I might lose the signal.”

For a moment, Kendra didn't know where to begin. “My name is Kendra Brookings. Is there a . . . Stella Carver on the island?” She was so surprised to reach Devil's Wake, she'd almost forgotten her great-aunt's name.

She expected a long wait while he flipped through records, but he answered right away. “Stella? Sure! The librarian.”

Kendra froze, wondering if she was dreaming. Maybe that was it. She'd been dreaming since they first drove into Threadville. The attendant smiled, happy for her.

“She's my great-aunt,” Kendra said. “Can you get her on the line?”

The guy on the other end, Max, laughed. “Hey now, I'm not a phone operator. Doesn't quite work like that. I'll have her here at noon tomorrow, though.”

The woman behind the counter shook her head, taking the mic from Kendra. “You know I'm dead air without the power,” she said. “I've got juice for another twenty minutes. Can't you go run and get her?”

Half of what Max said next was lost to static. “—your own personal valet service out here, Gloria, I shoulda been home an hour ago—” When his voice cut out again, Gloria's mischievous
smile gave her away. She was interfering with his transmission.

“What's that?” Gloria said into the mic. “I didn't copy that. So you'll go run and fetch Stella Carver so she can talk to her surviving family? Her name's Kendra.”

This time, the radio buzzed with silence, and Kendra was afraid he was gone. Finally, Max sighed. “If Wales ever sends you out here on a goodwill mission or whatever, you better duck if you see me coming, lady. I'll get her, but you owe me.”

“Hurry, Max—seriously, blackout in twenty minutes.”

Max cursed, and the radio went quiet.

For the first few seconds, Kendra held her breath as if she expected Aunt Stella to simply materialize. “Thanks so much,” she told the girl. “Will he really go get her?”

“He's gonna try.” She stared at the clock warily. “Don't know if he'll make it.”

Kendra's heartbeat pulsed in her fingertips, so she squeezed Terry's hand.

“Thanks so much for helping us,” Terry said to Gloria, the first to remember his manners. “Just the way you're trying like this . . .” He didn't finish. “Just . . . thanks.”

Gloria shrugged, winking at him. “You kidding? With everything going on out there, I get a chance to bring a family together? You just made my week! Braiding the Threads, like Mr. Wales says.”

They shared a moment of giddiness, which veered to anxiousness as the bright red second hand ticked around the clock. Terry and Gloria made small talk about Threadville, but Kendra didn't hear a word of it. Ten minutes passed like an hour, but the next five sped by.
We don't have enough time,
she thought.

Gloria glanced at the clock. “Sorry, my radio's about to die,” she said. “Max is gonna kill me, but come back in the morning. Or go to the main radio station—”

The radio hissed with feedback.

“Threadville?” Max's voice said. “You copy? I've got Stella Carver here.”

Gloria shrieked, overjoyed. At first, Kendra could only stare at the radio. The dreamlike sensation came back, stronger than before. Just as she'd felt at Portland General, and then with her parents, she couldn't believe it was true.

“Hello?” a garbled woman's voice said. Kendra had expected her father's aunt to sound like an old lady, but the woman sounded vibrant if breathless. “Who's this?”

“Aunt Stella?” Kendra said. She forgot to press the Talk button at first, so Gloria patiently reminded her. “Aunt Stella? It's me: Kendra.”

“Kendra!” the woman shouted, and this time her voice was loud and clear. “
Devon
's Kendra? He said it was a Karen.” Her voice was muffled as she said something off to the side. “This is my grand-niece Kendra! From Washington!”

Gloria pointed at the clock, made a move-it-along motion.

Kendra pressed Talk again. “My grandpa Joe said to call you—”

“—all right, baby?” Aunt Stella said. “Are you with your dad and mom?”

Kendra breathed through the bubble of grief. Stella Carver might be the only person left who had known her parents. “No,” she said. “Mom and Dad didn't make it.”

A painful pause, then, “I understand,” Aunt Stella said, clipped. “I'm sorry for what happened, sugar, but you survived. Are you all right? You hurt?”

Kendra laughed through her tears. “I'm fine!” she said, fighting a wave of hysterical mingled joy and grief. “I have friends with me. We're in Threadville.”

“Well, thank the Lord!” Aunt Stella said. “Safe and sound. Praise Jesus!”

Less than a minute left on the clock, Kendra realized, alarmed.

“Aunt Stella, is there sanctuary in Devil's Wake?” she said. “If I come to you?”

“Come to me?” Stella said, as if the idea shocked her. “All that way? Sweetheart, from the stories I hear, I don't know how in the world you got as far as Threadville. You better stay put a while—”

Kendra's next words were a pleading whisper. “But if we can get there . . . could I get sanctuary?” Kendra said. “For me and my friends who've kept me safe?”

“I . . .” Aunt Stella paused, sounding flustered. “Well . . . It's getting tight here, but I know people who've brought family in. If you can make it as far as Long Beach airport, then they could send a plane over . . .”

“They have planes?” Terry said behind her. Kendra had forgotten about Terry.

Aunt Stella went on, fretful. “But stay safe in Threadville until things get closer to normal. I couldn't bear it if something happened—”

“Out of time,” Gloria announced. She leaned closer to the mic. “When you need to talk again, I can put you through.”

“Kendra?” Aunt Stella said. “You're family, child, and I'll do what I can for you. You take care out there, you hear?”

“I will,” Kendra said, her voice soft and hopeful.

The radio died, the lighted LCD fading to black. Kendra realized only later that all of the lights in the gas station were suddenly gone too. Even the moonlight seemed to have winked away. The room was pitch darkness, silent.

Terry's voice broke the quiet.

“They have planes?” he said again.

N
o
Gold Shirts hovered about the probation dorms, an old Motel 6 bordering farmland close to Myles's garage. Terry and the rest of his crew might not be full Threadville residents yet, but they had earned a measure of trust.

Terry and Kendra had missed the last shuttle to the dorms after dinner because of their visit to the gas station, so they were still walking on the roadside past acres of farmland at nearly nine. There weren't enough residents to tend all of the farms, so some of them were dead, awaiting new crops, alongside others bursting with green stalks. How would this place look in a year?

Terry was eager to know the status of the Blue Beauty, but he didn't have another mile's walk in him. He would check on the bus once the scav mission was over.

Besides, he needed his rest. The scavs were leaving for San Francisco before daylight, and he and Piranha still hadn't worked out a survival plan. What if they found a nest of freaks like the one at the Barracks?

Kendra had been talking about Devil's Wake nonstop, trying to soften him up to the idea of maybe taking her, but Terry couldn't think about that now.

“Nervous?” Kendra said.

“Yeah.” He itched to tell her about Piranha, but girls talked to each other.

“Then don't go,” Kendra said. “You don't have to get killed, or bitten, to prove you deserve to live here. You already deserve it, Terry.”

If his stomach hadn't felt like lead, he might have kissed her.

“I know,” he said. “I'm going to look out for Piranha. He'd do the same for me.”

“Terry, I think there's something wrong with his eyes.”

Was it that obvious? Or was Kendra just more perceptive than Sonia? The whole story sat on Terry's tongue again, ready to spill. But he kept silent.

Kendra gave a knowing, dark chuckle. “Don't think it's not true just because nobody wants to say it. If he can't see, he's a danger to you and the whole team. With me and my grandpa Joe, there was just one freak in the store—
one
guy—and he almost got both of us. Grandpa Joe was hurt and couldn't get up. It happened”—she snapped her fingers—“just like that.”

The sound of her snapping fingers evoked the image of a snarling face. And teeth.

“I know,” Terry said again, weary.

“You say that now,” Kendra said. “But when I wake up tomorrow, you and Piranha will both be gone. I know that already. So good luck.” She sounded angry, but then she sighed. “Please be careful, Terry. Some of them can talk. They'll seem like regular people.” He heard her hidden tears.

He slid his arm around Kendra's waist, pulling her close. She was as warm as a fever. “We'll be careful,” he said. He wished
he weren't giving her a reason to be worried tonight. They'd all had enough worry for a while.

Terry could smell the Motel 6 before they saw it. The motel might have looked like a relic from normal times, except that residents had built carefully tended fires in the empty parking spaces in front of their rooms; some of the bigger ones in sawed-off barrels, where they were cooking and selling strips of grilled meat. Other fires were just big enough for heat and light as people sat outside on lawn chairs before they went to bed, avoiding their dark rooms. There was laughter from one boisterous group on the end, where Terry suspected alcohol was flowing, but most people were quiet, trying not to draw attention to themselves.

Signs were posted clearly on the wall to tell newbies the hours: the town had electricity between six a.m. and ten a.m., and again from four to eight p.m. They followed the sign to the manager's office. The man waiting was barely five feet tall, nearly as wide as he was tall, with large ears and a face splotched with razor stubble.

“We were about to send a search party,” he scolded. “I'm Marv, the housemaster. Nobody gets past probation without the housemaster, so if you're wondering which ass you kiss, it's right here. And I like to be back in the room with my wife by seven-thirty.”

They nodded, apologizing. Marv spoke quickly, without leaving spaces for explanations. He'd only waited to tell them the rules.

“No fires in the rooms—not even candles. If I see a fire, expect the wrath of God. If your room's too dark, get a battery lamp. You can buy one on credit in town, or trade some food. Need to cook? Cook in your parking space. Never leave a fire unattended. Clean up your mess. The toilets all work, so leave the woods alone. If your toilet stops working, come tell me. You're back in the civilized world, so act like it.”

“Yessir,” Terry said, feeling giddy. He'd hoped he would have a toilet. Last night's bathroom in quarantine had felt like a luxury vacation.