The Survival Code, page 18
The cashier emerges from the store. “What the hell are you people doing?”
“Call 911,” Tork responds.
The skinny Santa looks from me to Tork to the burning billboard and returns inside.
Navarro has gotten Tork’s handcuffs and is towing the vigilante cop toward the minimart door. “Get...the other...gun.”
I need to find Tork’s gun.
There isn’t much time.
Charles leaps out of the bushes. “I see it.”
A second later he runs up to me, gingerly carrying a Sig Sauer P226. Nine-millimeter. Short reset trigger. Once upon a time, a gun only for badass military types like the navy SEALs. These days, the authorities were supposed to use more modern guns that recorded the DNA and the fingerprint of the user. But when you were on a questionable, covert government mission you wouldn’t want to leave that kind of footprint. Of course, Tork would choose an old gun.
I hate the sight of the Sig Sauer in my brother’s tiny fingers.
Once I have both weapons, Tork stops resisting.
I give the Glock to Navarro and I can see his plan.
Together, we back the cop up against the minimart door. Navarro has put Tork’s handcuffs around one of his wrists. I thread them through the curved, metal door handle and cuff his other wrist. He won’t be going anywhere for a while.
In the light of the store, I get a better look at Navarro’s face. He’s been beat all to hell. One of his eyes is bruised and bloodied. Small jagged cuts, probably from the asphalt, are etched into his neck and cheeks. His lips are swollen and blue.
At least he hasn’t been shot.
My brother’s face puckers into a worried frown.
Tork has a black eye, but he must’ve had the upper hand in the fight. He manages to smile. “Ah, I would have expected nothing less from the daughter of the infamous Maxwell Marshall. I’ll hand it to you. This is brave. Stupid. But brave.”
“Screw off, you mouth breather,” I say.
Charles makes a disapproving noise.
As I’m backing away, Tork sighs.
“Listen to me, Jinx. Listen. I’ll make you the deal of the century right now. Come in with me. I’ll let your brother and your boyfriend here go and I’ll do my best to ensure your safety. That’s a hell of a lot better than you’ll get when I catch you with a division of the National Police in tow.”
I glance at Navarro. His dark expression gives nothing away. Clearly this is a stupid offer and I don’t understand why Tork would make it.
Charles takes my hand and squeezes it. “Don’t send me away, Jinx.”
I would never.
“I can’t leave my brother. And anyway. How stupid do you think I am? We both know that you’re going to kill me.”
He looks at me like he’s imagining me as a giant turkey leg. “Maybe. But not for the reason you think. Despite what Marshall may have told you, the reason does matter, Susan. Why do we do the things we do? The answers matter. Even to him.”
Navarro lifts his gun. “Who sent you? Who told you to look for us here?”
Tork smiles even wider. His eyes are a piercing blue.
Part of me thinks he’s right. Why is this happening? Why is this all happening?
“Fine. Then why do we do the things we do? Why are you doing this?”
His eyes narrow. “I’m doing what’s right. We’re living in an era of chaos. Ammon Carver will set things right. I’ll do what I have to do to help him. If that includes killing you, then so be it. But I’m giving you a chance to be part of the solution here, Susan.”
“She isn’t going anywhere with you,” Navarro says. He plants a punch on Tork’s square jaw. The hit opens a small cut on the cop’s lip and a couple drops of blood drip onto his chin.
“Why are you doing this, Jinx? You fix computers because that’s what Marshall taught you to do. You run because that’s what Dr. Doomsday told you to do. But who are you? What’s gonna happen to you when you realize that you don’t have the first damn clue?”
Navarro turns to me. “We should kill him,” he says in a voice devoid of any emotion.
“We can’t,” I whisper. I don’t want to become a killer. There are still limits to what I will do to survive.
Navarro lifts his gun. “Last chance. Who sent you?”
I pull on the sleeve of his jacket. “Gus. We have to go.”
They’re coming.
At least a dozen cop cars off in the distance, lights and sirens blaring.
We have to run.
DR. DOOMSDAY’S GUIDE TO ULTIMATE SURVIVAL
RULE NINE: COVER YOUR TRACKS. LET YOUR PLANS BE DARK AS NIGHT.
We jog behind the minimart, where Tork can’t see which direction we choose, and set off down a residential street. Navarro keeps his head down. The people in the first few houses come out into their yards, watching the flashing red and blue lights that rise into the night. We pass a house where I see a nice normal family through their living room window. They’re sitting together and watching a game show.
Someone is grilling hamburgers. Fire. Charcoal. Browning meat. The aroma is enough to overpower the smell of mothballs that seeped into my sweater. It makes me think of Jay and the first time we met. He came to our house, fired up the grill and seemed like he was made to throw backyard pool parties. I want, more than anything, to get back to my backyard and find a bacon cheeseburger waiting.
The rest of the houses are quiet, and I imagine them filled with people living ordinary lives.
Like the one I had until Monday.
After about fifteen minutes, the paved road turns to dirt. My stiff, tired legs drag and kick up dust. After another fifteen, we reach the end of the small town and head into the open landscape.
Police sirens blare in the background.
We enter the desert on foot.
At night.
With no food or water.
The rising crescent moon provides a little light, but not much. Even if I could see, what would I be looking at? Flat. Open. Dry. Nothing but short, squat cactus and yellow brush as far as the eye can see.
It gets cold in the desert at night. Sometimes close to freezing in the winter.
Our only advantage is that they’ll probably wait until daylight to come and find us.
Navarro is hurt.
He tries to keep us at a quick trot.
Every few steps, my pant leg catches on something and I almost trip.
I hold the flashlight. It’s impossible to keep it steady.
Navarro detaches a compass from a carabiner hanging on the inside of his jacket. “There’s a butte a few miles north of town. It should provide a little bit of cover. Maybe we can rest.”
This feels like an exercise in futility.
“I miss Mom,” Charles says with a sniffle.
I lean over and plant a kiss on his forehead. “Me too.”
“Do you miss your mom?” Charles asks Navarro.
“Sort of,” he answers. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. My mom is amazing and I’d give anything to sleep in my own bed tonight. Wake up to a nice, hot breakfast.” Navarro pauses for a second, clutching his side. “We always eat together. As a family.”
“Maybe we should rest for a minute,” I say.
He shakes his head and goes on as if he hasn’t heard me. “But if my mom saw me looking like this, if she knew what I’d been doing, I’m not sure she’d be able to come up with a punishment bad enough... I think I’d rather be arrested.”
I point the flashlight at Navarro to get a good look at his face. “Where do your parents think you are, anyway?”
He turns away from me. “Visiting my uncle.”
“They don’t approve of Dr. Doomsday?”
He sighs. “Oh, my dad could give Dr. Marshall a run for his money in the prepping department. Why do you think I was at PrepperCon? I think I’ve done as much drilling as you. My parents might approve of Marshall’s politics. But not of me getting involved.”
I point the light back at the ground in time to avoid tripping over another rock. “Why are you doing it, then?” I desperately hope he’ll answer this question. Like maybe if I understand him, I could also understand myself.
“You really don’t remember me?”
It’s cold and every part of my body aches and it’s hard to even think about the summer. We were busy moving and Dad did a bunch of appearances at conventions.
Navarro hesitates. “You were working the Doomsday booth and you sold me a copy of Dr. Marshall’s book. The expression on your face. It was like the world was gonna end and you just found that idea so damn boring.”
Before I can think much more about this, Charles reaches out and squeezes my hand. “Jinx, why did they leave us?”
I still can’t believe Toby and MacKenna took off like that.
Except.
Part of me knew MacKenna was right.
“It’s my fault. I thought... I didn’t...” I didn’t take her feelings seriously, or try to be particularly understanding of the fact that it’s Jay who’s in the most desperate situation. MacKenna is always so tough. She seems so sure of everything and everyone. Still, she should have been given much more say in what we decided to do.
“It’s not your fault,” Navarro tells me.
“Yes. It is,” I say flatly.
Charles sniffs again, and my throat tightens. He’s crying. “Don’t they love me?”
I stop for a second. “Yes. Of course they do. Sometimes people get pushed to their breaking point. I pushed MacKenna. I should have...” My breath catches. I should have listened to her. I should have realized how much having her dad gone would hurt. Especially after she’d already lost her mom.
“Will we see them again?” Charles asks.
“Yes,” I say. “We will.” I hope we will.
We continue walking in silence.
We walk on.
And on.
I make out a darkish mount. It’s still way off in the distance.
Navarro hitches his step every couple of minutes.
He’s getting worse.
My teeth chatter. This is bad. We can’t lose Navarro.
Because he’s the best with directions and because...
A bit of warmth returns to my bloodstream.
“How bad are you hurt?” I ask.
“I’m fine,” he says.
“Navarro. Gus. Seriously, you need to—”
He puts his arm in front of me to stop me from taking a step.
A rumble echoes and fills the wide desert. A car engine.
It’s getting louder.
My shoulders fall.
We’re done.
I wrap my arms around my brother.
Charles collapses against my shoulder, and I cry out as I catch him.
The licorice. The French toast. All the stress. His blood sugar has probably gone through the roof. “Charles! Charles!” I shriek. I shake his little arm. It’s clammy and limp. I lower him to the dusty, desert ground.
“What? What is it?” Navarro asks.
“He fainted! He...he...” I burst into tears.
I press my face to my brother’s and can hear small, shallow breaths. The air from his lungs smells sweet, like synthetic strawberry flavoring.
We don’t have his medicine.
It’s too dark to make out the exact features of my brother’s little face. Gus is hurt. There’s no way to get Charles more meds. We’re going to die out here. We followed Dad’s drills, but the drills always acknowledged that there could be casualties. What Dad called the human cost. My shitty decision making was going to cost my brother his life.
“Susan,” Navarro says with an edge of panic. “We have to get ready.”
For what? We’re all going to die.
A pair of headlights appears. Some kind of vehicle bobs up and down as it makes its way across the low brush. It comes to a stop in front of us.
Navarro gets out his gun.
At a loss for what to do, I lower Charles’s head gently to the ground and drop the flashlight. I take the Sig Sauer from my jacket pocket.
We wait.
A door creaks open.
“Honey, I’m home.”
My breath lets out in a rush. It’s MacKenna’s voice.
MacKenna gets out of the driver’s side, and I spot Toby’s figure a second later.
I consider killing my stepsister, but there isn’t time. I run by her into the camper. Inside, I wildly toss things from the cabinet until I arrive at the bin full of meds. I grab a glucometer and an insulin pen.
“What’s happening? What’s wrong?” MacKenna is saying outside. Navarro says something to her but I can’t hear what.
I slide around in the rocky dirt as I make my way back to Charles. MacKenna is holding him now and saying, “Charles, Charles,” over and over. I push her out of the way and hold the meter up to the sensor on my brother’s arm. An insanely high number glows in blue on the display.
I mentally calculate an insulin dose and go to measure it with the syringe. But it’s too dark. I frantically pat the ground looking for the flashlight that doesn’t seem to be there. Navarro seems like he’s about to pass out.
“I can’t see! I can’t see!” I basically scream this right in MacKenna’s face.
“Is he gonna be okay?” MacKenna asks.
I can’t answer her. I can barely breathe.
Toby carries Charles to the front of the truck so that we can use the headlights. He holds my brother, and we both kneel again. My fingers shake as I twist the insulin pen to the correct dose and plunge the needle in the fatty part of his arm.
Then we wait.
Is it a few minutes? An hour? It’s a space that feels like all of eternity. Tiny rocks poke into my legs. I stare at a small grouping of beehive cactus. Force myself to focus on the geometric patterns of their spiny needles.
My brother’s eyes flutter open.
Thank God.
Navarro must be feeling a bit better. He hands me a bottle of water. I raise Charles to a sitting position and press the bottle to his lips. He takes a couple of gulps.
“Jinx. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ate the French toast.” His crackly whisper is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
I burst into tears again.
I’m still crying when Charles spots MacKenna and Toby. “You’re back,” he says in relief. “Jinx said you’d come back.” Toby helps my brother to his feet.
MacKenna has backed a few paces away. She has found the flashlight and watches the whole scene with a kind of stiff horror.
I get up off the ground and round on her. “You...you...could have killed Charles. He could have died!”
She kicks the dirt sheepishly. “Well. You could have listened to me. You could have—”
I don’t care what she thinks I could have done. “You could have stayed and worked things out. You could have stopped Charles from eating all the maple syrup south of Phoenix!”
All of this is true, but I realize that I’m also racked with a terrible guilt. I could have gone into the gas station and stopped Charles from eating candy. I could have done more to help manage his stress. He must be scared out of his mind.
It’s my job to take care of my brother.
Toby stands between us like he fears he might need to break up a fight. “We wanted to come back right away,” he said. “But we don’t know the area. Luckily, we saw you make a break for it so we knew where to look for you, but we had to wait and find our way around all the cops.”
Charles gets up and runs over to hug MacKenna. Clearly, he’s already forgiven her.
“The two of you need to stop trying to destroy everything in your path,” she says, jerking her head first at Navarro and then at me. “You’re like a pair of Tasmanian Devils.”
I open my mouth in fury.
“Mac, do you have something else you’d like to say?” Toby asks his sister.
MacKenna is still hugging Charles.
“I shouldn’t have left you,” she says, squeezing my brother. “I’m sorry.” From the crestfallen expression on her face as she hugs my brother, I can tell MacKenna really means it.
“We have to stay together, okay? Okay? Right?” Charles asks.
“Right,” Toby says firmly. “We’re staying together.”
Navarro steps forward. He’s doing a good job concealing the extent of his injuries. “Well, now that the band is back together, we need to get on the road. We’re stuck with our original problem. This truck is recognizable. We’ll have to ditch it tomorrow. We need to make some major headway tonight.”
MacKenna puts her hands on her hips.
“We should discuss what we’re going to do,” I say. If there’s any hope of avoiding more arguing we have to come up with a plan together.
Navarro sighs. “Okay. Dr. Marshall has a man on the other side of Why. It’s a straight shot south from here. He’ll help us. That’s where I think we should go.” He holds his hand up to cut off MacKenna’s objection. “But Goldwater Airfield is southeast. Let’s go twenty-five miles or so south tonight. We’ll camp there. Tomorrow, we decide what to do. If we go to Goldwater, we just have to cut over east. If we continue on to Why, we keep going south.”
“We decide together?” MacKenna clarifies.
“Yes. Together,” I say.
Toby nods. He extends his hand to Navarro. There’s a brief pause, but Navarro shakes it.
Navarro and Toby get into the cab, leaving MacKenna, me and Charles in the camper. The truck jerks to a start. Even though Navarro must have the four-wheel drive turned on, the ride is bumpy as hell.
There’s a little clock in the camper. It’s nine thirty.
I’m getting more tired by the second, so even though it’s hard to keep from falling over, I unpack the supplies we’ll need. I pull out all the sleeping bags from underneath the bed, get out a meal ration for each of us and find the first-aid bin. I clean and bandage my hands. Charles has a few minor cuts and scrapes that I’m able to dress while we’re moving.
