Authors: Mary Rosenblum
Tags: #Fiction, #Science Fiction, #General, #Collections & Anthologies
Life.
“Wasson — the private you met on your way out — might hand us the key. She recognized the corporal who sprung Greely. He’s from Bonneville, but she can’t remember his name. I’m going to pull a personnel record for her.”
“That might give us the link we need to Hastings.” Johnny was nodding. “Good for Private Wasson.”
“Yeah.” Carter swung his legs over the side of the bed, hissing between his teeth. “Hand me the phone, will you? I’ve got to call Personnel.”
“While you’re doing that, I’m going to try searching Greely’s place. If he’s in with Hastings on this . . . and it sure seems likely . . . something will be there. Something that will point to Hastings.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Carter said.
“He wouldn’t dare go back there.” Johnny’s eyes were glittering with the old, school-days, go-for-it fire.
He was going to do it. “Get your car. I’m coming, too.”
“You can’t go running around in your condition.” Johnny frowned. “I’ll call you when I get there.”
“You’ll get yourself shot, is what’ll happen, Johnny.” Carter gave him a weak grin. “Not without me. I want that proof more than you do.” He stood, wavering a little, one hand on the wall for support. “Park right in front of the door. I don’t know if they’ve got orders to stop me at the gate or not.”
“Lie down on the floor and I’ll toss some stuff over you.”
Well, what difference did it make if he went AWOL? Carter limped over to his closet as Johnny left and rooted out a jacket and folded bedspread to add to the camouflage. That cold anger curdled in his gut. Whoever was behind this . . . Hastings? . . . owed for a lot of lives right now. Carter opened his dresser drawer, took out the Beretta, and made sure it was loaded.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
C
rouched on the floor of Johnny’s car, Carter held his breath as Johnny braked at the gate to surrender his pass.
“You better watch yourself out there.” The guard’s voice sounded as if she were in the back seat with Carter. “Something big is going on. The whole town’s on its way out to the Shunt. I hope you’re heading west — you’re not going to get anywhere going east.”
Another demonstration? Sweat stung Carter’s eyes. Hastings had his Rangers out there. He closed his eyes, urging Johnny silently to step on it, get them the hell out of here. The car lurched forward, gathering speed.
“It’s clear.” Johnny glanced in the rearview as Carter threw off the stifling camouflage.
“Did you hear that? About the Shunt?” Carter eased himself onto the seat, tried to brace himself against the cars motion. It hurt. “If anyone does anything, this is going to blow up.”
“I heard.” Johnny shook his head. “You can’t do squat there. You need proof that Hastings’s doing this.” He braked at the truck plaza, then swung left onto the state highway. “I’ll bet you a hundred bucks we find it at Greely’s.”
He was right. Carter drew a cautious breath. Nita might turn up with something . . . or she might not. She wasn’t willing to see Greely as anything but a hero.
The afternoon sun streaked the Gorge wall with stark black shadows, giving the rocky bones of the earth an austere beauty. Those rocks would still be here tomorrow, whether a hundred people died or none at all. They wouldn’t care, one way or the other. The events of this day, of this past month, were nothing more than a flicker of light and darkness to the planet, he thought. A millisecond in the planet’s lifetime. They topped the rim of the Gorge and Carter clung to the door, breathing in quick, shallow gasps as the car bounced across the rocky track that led to Greely’s house. He pressed his arm to his side, felt wetness at the surgery site. The doc was not going to be happy with him.
He needed some kind of solid proof. Something.
Greely’s beans were already wilting. Johnny pulled up in front of the weathered little house and Carter climbed stiffly out. Last time he had pulled up here things had looked so hopeful. Slowly, painfully, he climbed the warped steps while Johnny checked around the buildings. The main room looked as barren as he remembered it; table, chairs, woodstove, and sink. One bedroom door stood open. Greely’s, he remembered, and spied the bright paintings on the walls. Nita had walked through the other door, flushed with sleep. He tensed as the handle turned.
“Jeremy?” Carter blinked. “What are you doing here?”
“I
was
watering Dan’s beans for Nita. Only there’s no more water.” Jeremy yawned and gave Carter a quizzical look. “What’s up?”
“Have you seen Greely?”
“I thought you had him locked up?” Jeremy’s eyes narrowed.
“Who’s this?” Johnny burst through the door. “He was here before.”
“Carter, what’s going on?” Jeremy ignored Johnny. “You look bad.”
“He got a rib through his lung when the Pipe blew.” Johnny walked past him, began opening kitchen cupboards. “Wow. Whatever else this guy’s into, he’s got good black-market connections.” He waved a brown pill bottle. “
I
can’t even get this stuff.”
“You want to butt out?” Jeremy limped over and slammed the cupboard door. “What’s this all about, anyhow?”
“I need to search the house,” Carter said wearily. “Right now.”
“He’s on your side, Carter.”
“How do you know?” Carter clenched his fists. “How the hell do you
know
, Jeremy? You give me a solid reason, and we’ll both believe it.”
“Nita told me.”
The quiet words hit him like a blow. “She’s . . . biased.”
“I don’t think so.” Jeremy’s tone was mild. “Relax, Carter. I’m not going to take you on. If you want to search, do it. I don’t think Dan would mind. Where is he, if you don’t have him?” He was frowning now. “He didn’t come back up here.”
“He escaped.” Or he had been taken and then he was likely dead. Bad way to prove your innocence. Carter turned his back on Jeremy and yanked a drawer open, sorting quickly through a handful of kitchen utensils. Johnny was going through the cupboards, looking into pots, lifting stacked plates. Jeremy sat down on the corner of the table, watching them rummage. Carter left the main room to Johnny and went into Greely’s bedroom. Watercolors lined the walls. They had been painted on sheets of rough paper, and Carter wondered if Greely had done them. They all showed water in the river. Carter stared at a picture of gray-green water cascading over gray rocks. It looked . . . real. Like Jeremy’s visions. A flat photo stood on the small table beside the bed. Carter picked it up. A gray-haired woman with a strong face looked out at him, smiling quizzically, a little warily. Carter put the picture down carefully, wondering who she was.
Greely’s drawers yielded clothes, odds and ends, and a sheaf of hardcopy that turned out to be old bills, receipts, and meter records. Carter peeked behind the watercolors, but nothing had been hidden there, either. Hand on Nita’s door, he hesitated, afraid, angry at that twinge of fear. He shoved the door open. Her room smelled faintly of honey and piss — her daughter’s contribution, no doubt. The bed was neatly made and her pack stood against the wall. She had put her clothes into the top drawer of the dresser. She didn’t have much — an extra pair of jeans, a couple of pairs of underwear, and two shirts. Carter turned the soft folds of cloth over, catching a faint whiff of her scent. Had she ever owned more than this? He slammed the drawer and checked the next one down.
It was there, under the pile of stiff, dry diapers, tucked beneath the yellowed newspaper that lined the drawer. Stock certificates. Pacific BioSystems stock, made out to Dan Greely. And a handwritten note, stuck between two of the certificates.
Here’s the next installment. We’ve got a new CO coming in and I’ve got to talk to you about strategy. Same place, tomorrow night.
It wasn’t signed, but Carter recognized the handwriting. Hastings put those jagged tails on his Y’s.
Very carefully, he folded the certificates and tucked them into his pocket. Very carefully, he straightened the pile of diapers. She didn’t know, he told himself. But it didn’t really matter if she did or not. Dan Greely and Hastings had put strings on him and made him dance. Carter touched the butt of the Beretta lightly, feeling the paper crackle in his pocket. It might be enough to send Greely to prison for life and put Hastings in front of a court-martial. And it might not. Hastings was a general. Politics would come into it.
“Carter?” Johnny stood in the doorway, his expression eager. “You find something?”
“No.” Carter shrugged. “Maybe you ought to look. I’m getting fuzzy.”
“Sure.” Johnny stepped past him and yanked a drawer open. “Go sit down. You look pale.”
He felt pale. Carter limped through the house, not looking at Jeremy, his ribs searing him with every step. He thought he could make it, but Johnny caught up with him as he collapsed into the driver’s seat.
“What the hell are you up to?” Johnny put a hand on the door. “Carter?”
Carter hit the electric locks, rolled the windows up.
“Hey!”
“This isn’t your fight.” The engine roared and Johnny leaped backward as he gunned it in reverse, spinning a rooster tail of dirt as he backed the car around in a tight arc. Icy sweat stuck his shirt to his skin. He could drive one-handed. He could manage that much. He floored it and peeled out of the yard, the rear end fishtailing, Johnny’s shouting left behind in an instant. Breath whistling through his teeth, he roared up the drive, the car rocking and bouncing, driving lances of pain through his chest.
Johnny didn’t get to die for Carter’s mistakes. At least he’d have that. If he got to the Shunt in time, maybe the war wouldn’t happen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
T
he countryside looked different from the cab of a truck. Kneeling on Renny’s plush carpet, Nita watched the riverbed unreel beyond the highway. Your perspective changed up here; you saw the dust and rock and the pump stations from a different angle. Nita stroked the cab’s carpet — not really carpet but acoustic skin, Renny had told her, reinforced by an electronic noise-cancellation system. With the windows intact, you could barely hear the purr of the engine. The quiet and the cool dustless air made the wind-scoured land look even less real.
“We’re so . . . removed in here,” Nita said out loud.
“How so, babe?” Renny tossed her a quick glance, then turned her attention back to the highway.
“They aren’t real. The rocks, the riverbed.” Nita squirmed. Renny’s arm was hurting her again, but she wouldn’t take any more of the orange painkillers. “I wish I could take a turn and give you a break,” she said.
“I’ve been worse off. Quit clucking at me like a mother hen.” Renny smiled faintly. “You’re right. It’s not real, all that dust out there. I don’t particularly want it to be real, either. I don’t want to look any farther than the road in front of me. Give me a nice room in a plaza somewhere, a good dinner, and a sharp deal. That’s real enough.”
“You don’t look behind you,” Nita said. “Lydia keeps it all around her, doesn’t she? The past?” Preserved in the succulent leaves of long-dead plants.
“You say some strange things, babe.”
Past and present. A dusty barrier divided one from the other. Only Jeremy really straddled it. Nita sighed, urging the truck to move faster, watching the rocky scar of the riverbed drift past.
“That stuff Lydia dug up is worrying you, isn’t it?” Renny said.
Yes, someone planted those names
, Lydia had told her.
Sorry, I don’t have the real names yet. Rico’s getting better in his old age after all. It’s going to take me a little while to pick out the threads for you. But don’t worry. I’ll find ’em.
“Yes, I guess it is.”
“She’ll get you what you’re after. No one hides anything forever from Lydia.”
“It . . . might not be in time.” Nita pressed her lips together. A terrible sense of urgency nagged at her. “Something is happening,” she said. “I know it.”
“You fed me a line back there, didn’t you, babe?” Renny shot Nita a look. “You’re no operator. You’re in this as deep as Danny.”
“I didn’t mean to be.” Nita looked at the trucker, trying to read the barbed tangle of her emotions. “It was strange, coming here. People are nice to me because I’m Sam Montoya’s daughter.”
“So you’re Sam’s kid, huh? Small world. Maybe not.” Renny chuckled. “Yeah, Sam was another one like Danny. Kind of a hero around here, too. That why you came back?”
“No.” Nita twisted to look into the rear of the cab, but Rachel was still asleep on the futon, sucking on her fist. “He was no hero to me. I think I hated him. Because he let those men kill him. He left me to get all Mama’s blame for it.” The blood that spattered her had never washed off.
“You don’t hate him any more?”
“I don’t know.” Nita frowned. “I think I understand why he did what he did. He knew those men would come for him. Sooner or later. But he didn’t want us — the whole town — to die, too. I hope — when he saw them — it still mattered to him.”
Renny grunted. “I never gave a damn about Jesse. We scratched to live, and she would’ve done a lot better without a kid. I was an accident. If she’d had the guts, she would have left me out in the Dry when I was born. I chained her to that hose farm and we both knew it.”
Nita shivered at her hurt. And anger. “And then Dan came along.”
“Yeah, then Danny came along. He’s my age, did you know that? Almost exactly. I was twenty-three when he moved in with her. I heard about it from a friend of mine. I’d been working the east-west routes then, driving as an apprentice for an old witch who could make a rig fly, setting up with a partner of my own.” She gave a dry laugh. “I didn’t get back here much, didn’t want to. I guess Danny had something to offer Jesse that I didn’t. What happened the day they came for your dad?”
“He stopped to hide me, so they wouldn’t kill me, too.” Nita let her breath out slowly. “They probably would’ve killed him even if he had run. You could see for miles around our place and they had rifles.”
“How old were you, babe?”
“Five. I think. About that.”
“It’s a damn dusty world we grow up in,” Renny said. She shook her head and concentrated on wrestling the truck off onto the Mosier detour.
Nita looked at the folded hills where Julio Moreno had buried the bones he had found. Such an easy place to die among the rocks and stumps of the long dead orchards. The truck growled a low note as it climbed up over the crest where Jeremy had showed her spring. “This land is full of our ghosts,” she said. “It’s crowded with ghosts.”
“Ghosts, huh?” Renny shifted on her padded seat as she eased the truck back onto the freeway again. “Jesse talked about ghosts, but I never tried very hard to see ’em. Could be that’s what Dan did for her. Shared her ghosts with her.”
The bitter thorn of Renny’s hunt had softened just a little bit. Nita reached out, met Renny’s hand halfway. For a silent moment their hands clasped; then Renny winced and let go to use both hands on the wheel.
“Come down to the plaza before I take off again.” She gave Nita a crooked grin. “I’ll teach you to drive this baby. Then you can take over next time I get shot.”
“I will,” Nita said.
They passed the abandoned car dealerships and stripped, empty shopping centers that fringed the west end of The Dalles. “We’ll drop the rig at the plaza and pick up one of their loaner cars.” Renny eased the truck down the exit ramp. “I don’t drive this baby on that goat track to the farm.”
“I’m going to the base.” Nita drew a slow breath. She had no proof to offer Carter yet, nothing that would save Dan. Except for herself. What she was. “I can walk from here,” she said as they turned onto the plaza access road.
Dust eddied across the asphalt lot. A single rig baked in the sun. “It’s too empty.” Renny scowled. “Stay put a minute. I’ll find out what’s up.”
The dust sifted into the truck as soon as Renny cracked the sealed door. She cursed and slammed it behind her, ducking her head against the hot wind as she ran across the parking lot to the door. Something was wrong. Nita played with Rachel as she waited, trying to ignore the clench of unease in her gut. Rachel fussed and slapped at the dangled beads. No puddle lay beneath the caged hoses today. A dust devil twisted at the corner of the building, and Nita hugged her cranky daughter. Renny was coming back and Nita winced as she yanked the door open.
“Bad news.” Renny scowled at the distant wall of the dam. Curtained by blowing dust, it bulked like a cliff wall across the riverbed. “Somebody blew the Pipe while we were on our jaunt. A lot of uniforms got killed.”
Carter? Nita sucked in her breath, afraid to ask, afraid to say his name out loud. “Do they know who?” she managed.
“No names, babe. A bunch of them got offed in an ambush and a couple more drowned when the Pipe went. Drowned, can you believe it?” Renny’s laugh carried no trace of humor. “Josie says it’s war around here. Water’s cut off and they aren’t going to turn it back on. Uniforms blew away a truck last night. Turned out to be a family with a kid. The locals are crazy mad, on their way down to the Shunt to kill uniforms and turn the water back on. Josie’s on her way out of here right now.” Renny gave Nita a sharp look. “She’s right, babe. How ’bout if I give you that driving lesson in Boise?”
Nita shook her head, full of fear. “Will you give me that ride up to the farmhouse?” she faltered. “Before you leave?” Jeremy would know what was going on.
“You’re as thick-headed as Danny,” Renny growled. “But I figured that out already.” She pulled a key from her pocket. “I got us a loaner. We’ll have to go through town and cut over to the house by the back way. The Army shut down the highway between here and the Deschutes bed. Even the rigs have to wait for an escort before they can go through. Josie said everyone is pissed as hell. I don’t know any more than that.”
And Carter? Had he died in that ambush? His name kept sneaking into Nita’s head as the battered little loaner car chugged its way along the winding road that followed the rim of the Gorge. An ambush. Carter would have been in charge. There. Rachel squirmed and Nita bounced her, trying to distract her, trying to distract herself from her own fears.
Beyond the windows, rows of irrigated beans or beets swung past. The plants were wilting, yellowing in the sun. The landscape still looked unreal, but this sense of unreality had the dull gloss of a nightmare. They had been gone only twenty-four hours. The Dalles was dying.
Renny turned the car onto the narrow track that led to the farmhouse and braked to a halt. “Listen to me, babe. You got nothing to bargain with, right? People are about to start shooting.” She studied Nita’s face for a moment, then started the car moving again. “I’ve already offered Boise, so I won’t say it again. But you be careful, babe. Hear?”
“I hear you,” Nita said as the car pulled up behind the sagging gray house. “I’ll be careful, Renny.” She climbed out, Rachel clutched awkwardly in her arms. “Take care of yourself.”
“Hell, I’m not running off quite yet.” Renny looked grim. “I’ll stick around to see what’s going down. If it’s bad enough, I might want to cross the bridge and haul up to Goldendale and ninety-seven. That gets me back to the riverbed, and I can give this dog and pony show a miss.” She got out and slammed the door.
Renny was worried. About her? “Thanks,” Nita said softly. Out in the fields, the beans lay dying. What if Jeremy wasn’t here? What if no one was here? What had happened to Carter?
Jeremy and Johnny Seldon were on the porch, sitting in the shade. “Nita!” Jeremy’s relief hummed in the air. “I didn’t hear the car for the wind noise. Hello, Renny. Want some water?”
“What’s going on?” Nita’s voice threatened to break. “Is . . . Carter all right? Was he at the Pipe?”
“He was just here a few minutes ago, Nita.” Jeremy limped to the steps and put a hand on her arm. “He got hurt, but he’ll be all right.” For all his comforting tone, no comfort lay beneath his words.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“He ran off and stranded me here.” Johnny peered around the corner. “I could use a ride.”
He was angry. Nita turned her back on him. “I don’t understand,” she said, hugging Rachel to her. “I don’t understand, Jeremy.”
“I don’t think I do, either.” Jeremy put an arm around her. “Come on inside, put Rachel down, and have a drink of water. I’ll get you a glass, Renny.” He urged Nita gently into the dim interior of the house. “I think he found something.” He looked at her sideways. “They were searching the house, looking for proof that Dan’s involved with the sabotage. All of a sudden he bolted out of here. He acted . . . pretty upset.”
“He found what we were after.” Johnny had followed them inside, pulled out a chair, and dropped into it. “He found proof that Greely’s connected with Hastings. Where the hell did he go with it?” He banged a clenched fist down on the table. “Goddamn idiot.”
“There’s no proof.” Nita stared at him. “Not here.”
“There had to be. A letter.” Johnny gave her a cold stare. “Something.”
He was so easy to read. “You know he found something,” she breathed. “You put it here.” Her eyes widened. “That’s why you came up here the other day. To hide it. And you just came back after you dropped us off in town. I knew you didn’t really want to see Dan, but I couldn’t figure out what you wanted. You meant to put it here and get Carter to find it.”
“You got a problem, lady?” Johnny crossed his arms, gave her a crooked smirk. “You been watching too many mystery vids.”
“You’re lying,” she said matter of factly. “You planted something to link Dan to Hastings. We found other stuff. You probably planted that, too. The shares with Hastings’ and Dan’s names on them. It’ll tie them together and tie them to Pacific BioSytems. So everyone will think they’ve been making money from those fields Renny talked about.”
Rachel was squirming in her arms, protesting that Nita was holding her too tightly. They were all staring at her. Renny perplexed, Jeremy listening carefully. And Johnny — behind his cold, untroubled face — was afraid.
“You’re behind it,” she whispered. “You hired Rico to fix the records and make it just obvious enough to find. You’ve done it all, haven’t you? The sabotage — the shooting. How could you do this to Carter?” Her voice trembled and broke. “My God, he
loves
you.”
Johnny lunged up at her, then gasped as the heel of Jeremy’s hand caught him hard in the chest, jolting him back into his chair.
“Sit still,” Jeremy said mildly. “I think that’s about enough.” This time, they all looked at the small automatic that had appeared in his hand. He didn’t look very clumsy, holding the gun.
Johnny clutched the tabletop with both hands, breathing through his mouth. “She’s making it up.” He didn’t take his eyes from the gun. “She’s Greely’s lover, sticking up for him. I want to see one single shred of proof.”
“I have it. I’m not showing it to
you
.” A lie, but he wouldn’t know. “He’s at the Shunt.” She turned to Jeremy, pleading now. “Josie at the plaza said everyone is going there. To turn the water back on. That’s where he went.” And he wouldn’t care if he died, trying to stop it. “I have to go there, Jeremy. Now.”
“Nita are you sure?” He frowned at Johnny. “The Shunt is probably the most dangerous place in the country right now. If he’s there, he’s with the Army and you’ll get yourself killed if you go near them. They’re shooting at us, Nita. To kill.”
Jeremy wasn’t going to go. “Renny?” Nita faced her. “I need the car.”
“You’re worse than Danny, babe. At least he has some sense.” The wiry trucker snorted, her eyes fixed on Jeremy’s gun. “You got a tank up your sleeve? Heavy hardware? What the hell is the
point
?”
“I don’t know.” Nita met her eyes.
“Oh, shit.” Renny’s scowl moved from Jeremy’s face to Johnny’s and finally back to Nita. “You and Danny. Load up, babe. You don’t know these goat tracks for squat and I do. No point in your getting shot any sooner than you have to.”