The Survival Code, page 28
She called someone, and I have to find out who.
DR. DOOMSDAY SAYS:
IN A DISASTER SITUATION, YOUR PRINCIPLES WILL ALWAYS BE PITTED AGAINST YOUR ODDS OF SURVIVAL.
“Who were you talking to?” I demand.
I glance around. The ATV is gone and, in fact, its engine grumbles off in the distance. Lee and Derek have left for town. The doctor is gone too.
Ramona shuffles closer to her horse. “You dropped this,” she says, shaking the phone a couple of times. She doesn’t give it back to me though.
“I heard you talking to someone,” I say, struggling to stay calm. “I don’t know why you’re bothering to deny it. The SAT phone keeps a log of incoming and outgoing calls. I’ll be able to see the number you dialed.”
My open hand hovers in the space between us.
A heavy car door slams and Bill Collins rounds the corner of the building. “The Opposition knows Marshall is here. Trouble is coming sooner than we thought.”
Ramona still doesn’t give me the phone.
The ATV’s engine dies down. In the moonlight, I spot two small silhouettes about half a mile away. One is seated on the vehicle and the other, probably Lee, is pacing around it. There’s another engine surge and the loud bang of a misfire.
The noise is enough to startle the horses. Ramona’s horse whinnies, bucks and knocks into the old woman’s shoulder. She makes no effort to stop the phone from falling from her light grasp. Once again, it falls and slides through the dirt.
Right on cue, Freckles steps forward and crushes the phone under her black hoof.
She did that on purpose so I wouldn’t be able to see who she called.
“I’m guessing this is why they call you Jinx,” Ramona says, almost chewing on the words as she spits them out.
“You...you...you...” I sputter. I don’t know what makes me angrier. The fact that Ramona destroyed the phone. Or the fact that she’s blaming me.
She rubs her arm and grimaces. “You better think very carefully how you plan to finish that sentence, girl,” Ramona says, her voice icy and stern. She’s drawn herself up to her full height and the pleasant, folksy veneer falls from her long face. A cold, hard statue casts a shadow over me. This is the woman who gave birth to Ammon Carver.
Collins steps between the two of us. “Carver’s people are already in town. It won’t be long until they show up here.” He glances disapprovingly at me. “You need to get on the road as quick as possible. When they get here, I’ll give ’em something to worry about. I’ll buy you as much time as I can. I reckon it won’t be much though.”
He reaches inside the back door, pulls out a folded-up lawn chair and turns the lights inside the minimart off, leaving us with only the red lanterns.
Ramona tries to steady her horse, which never quite calmed down after the noise. She takes the bags from me, ties them to her saddle and mounts the horse. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
I’m tempted to keep on arguing with her, but the sight of Collins unfolding his lawn chair stops me. He has the air of a man who knows what’s coming for him and has decided to greet the inevitable with a defiant dignity. He sinks into his seat and tugs the brim of his hat, pulling it farther down his forehead.
Collins shrugs, his face shrouded in darkness. “You oughta consider takin’ your own advice.”
I get into Freckles’s saddle as best I can, eyeing the phone’s smashed circuit board on the ground as I climb up. Something makes me remember what Lee said and I turn back. “Mr. Collins? Are you for Rosenthal?”
He snorts. “I’m for runnin’ my store, keepin’ my own house in order and doin’ right by anyone who crosses my path. I leave everything else to a higher authority.”
This sounds like something I would have said a few days ago. But now, that kind of detachment feels off. I said all politicians are the same. Well. Carver and Rosenthal no longer seem the same.
At all.
“Well. If you don’t care what happens, why are you helping us?” I ask.
“I didn’t say I don’t care,” Collins says. “I said I’m for doing what’s right. And what Ramona’s boy is doing ain’t right.”
Ramona urges her horse forward, leaving Collins behind in his lawn chair.
The ATV is gone and the desert has fallen into silence again. Lee and Dinges are tiny dots, barely distinguishable from the brush. We ride toward the ranch. I’m about to ask about the phone again when Ramona speaks.
“This conflict is bigger than you, girl. I hope you understand that,” Ramona says. “If my son becomes the ruler of this world, any number of people will suffer a terrible fate. Max Marshall may be the only man alive who represents a serious challenge to my son.”
My shoulders fall slack and sullen. “My dad helped Ammon Carver get elected. What makes you think he can stop him? Or that he even wants to?” Usually, all Dad wanted to do was run. Or hide. But he came for us at Goldwater Airfield.
And he seemed to have his own army.
My blood runs as cold as the winter desert night.
Ramona doesn’t answer my question. She quickens the pace of her horse, putting some space between us and making things tougher on me because Freckles knows who’s boss. And it’s not me.
There’s clearly not going to be any more discussion about the phone. Plus, if Ramona was out to make me feel freaked out, she succeeded.
Yet there’s no denying that Ramona called someone. But seriously. Who? Maybe my dad? But how would she have gotten his number? Why wouldn’t she just tell me she called him? No. It was someone else. It had to be.
We can’t trust Ramona Carver. She gave birth to the most dangerous man alive. Faked her own death. Lied to her family. Who knows what kind of resources she has? She must know people. Rich and powerful people.
She’s Ammon Carver’s mother.
I spend the rest of the ride back trying to goad Freckles into catching up with Ramona. It doesn’t work. She’s got the horse too well trained.
The clip-clop of Freckles’s steady pace creates a falsely comfortable lull.
Ramona bypasses the stable and rides directly to the house. By the time I pass through the gate, she’s tied her horse to a post and gone inside. I do the same.
There’s a Jeep in front of the brightly lit house.
Through the large window, I see Dr. Truman examining Annika’s leg while Toby watches from a nearby chair. Ramona must have spoken to the doctor while I was in the store. My dad moves in front of the window, in deep conversation with the doctor.
For some weird reason, all the concern for Carver’s daughter stings. I expected Toby or at least my dad to come out to meet me and ask how things went. Instead, everyone’s top priority is Annika Carver’s bullet wound.
I don’t immediately see MacKenna, who launches herself off the porch and meets me in the center of the yard.
“We have a problem,” she says.
Oh God. Here we go. “I know,” I say. It’s so lame that I want to cry.
She blocks me. “What are you talking about?”
I sigh way too melodramatically. “I totally screwed up. I let that old lady get ahold of the phone and I’m pretty sure the doofus in the minimart recognized me.” I move to sidestep her and go into the house. I have to talk to Dad. The Opposition is coming.
“Really?” she asks, becoming interested. But then she shakes her head. “No, nevermind that now. Look. Navarro’s gone.”
“What?” Gus cannot be gone.
“You heard me,” she says. But she comes a bit closer and lowers her voice. “After you left, I followed Dr. Doomsday—”
“You did?” I ask.
“You asked me to. You asked me to keep an eye on things,” she says, scowling. “He went over behind the barn—”
“Since when do you ever do what I ask?” I say, stuck on that point.
“If and when you ask me to do things that make sense, I will do them. Anyway—”
“The barn?” I glance around. Another chill settles over me. I’m stalling. She’s trying to tell me something I don’t want to know.
Navarro cannot be gone.
“Do you want to hear this or not?” She points to a large structure behind the stables. “That’s the barn. Anyway. Dr. Doomsday went over there. Then Stephanie and my dad show up and they’re talking for a while—”
Where they couldn’t be seen from the house.
“—and I couldn’t get that close but it sounded like my dad was saying something like, ‘the only thing that matters is that the kids are safe,’ and Stephanie was crying and your dad was standing there looking like a cyborg the way he always does. Then Doomsday goes back in the house and there’s more crying and my dad patting Stephanie on the back—”
Something creeps across my arm and I instinctively smack it, leaving the remains of a fire ant in my palm. I begin to itch. “Okay! But what does this have to do with Navarro?”
“I’m getting to that. After a while, my dad goes back to the house too. Then it was like someone flipped a switch. Stephanie starts talking on the phone—”
“Ramona said there’s no cell service out here.”
Mom has a SAT phone?
“You think she was talking to Ramona Healy?”
MacKenna’s expression shifts into worry. This is what she looks like most of the time now. “Ramona? Why?”
“I told you. Ramona Healy used the phone when we were at the minimart. I had one of the SAT phones. Navarro gave it to me.”
“Had the phone?” MacKenna asks, momentarily distracted.
“Yeah. I had it. Then, Ramona got ahold of it. Now...now, well, it’s gone. Ramona got the horse to crush it. Otherwise, I would have been able to see who she called.” I can’t explain what happened in some way that doesn’t sound ridiculous.
MacKenna’s reached the point where her impatience overpowers her curiosity. “Yeah. Whatever. Sorry I asked. Anyway. Stephanie was out there pacing around and talking into the phone. She said something like, ‘You have no appreciation of the reality on the ground.’ Does that mean anything to you?”
I shake my head. That doesn’t sound like Mom. Why would she say that kind of thing to Ramona Healy? “No. But what does any of this have to do with Navarro?” I crane my neck around, expecting to see him any second.
“He came out here after Stephanie got off the phone. They got into it. But they kept it down so, no, I don’t know what they said.” She kicks a small rock with the toe of her shoe.
My mouth falls open. “Navarro got into an argument with my mom?”
MacKenna glances in the direction of the barn. “All I know is that a couple of minutes later Navarro went inside the house, packed up his stuff and took off.”
“On foot?”
“Yeah,” she says, suddenly small and quiet.
My coldness is replaced by a much warmer panic. Navarro left the ranch. On foot. When The Opposition is on the way. I walk to the wooden fence and scan the landscape. It’s absolutely silent, dark and empty. I can’t see The Opposition out there yet.
I can’t see Gus either.
“I have to find Mom.”
I go to the porch. I’ve got my hand on the screen door when it knocks into me and I find myself face-to-face with my father.
“Have you seen Mom?” I ask, through the screen.
“She’s in the barn,” he says, pushing the door forward again, clearly trying to signal me to move. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m dealing with a few time-sensitive situations here.”
Ever droll. Ever devoid of any human emotions. My father.
“Dad! Navarro is gone and Mom was the last person to see him.”
“At least let us out of the door,” he says with a sigh.
I scoot back, clearing the way for him. Ramona follows right behind.
Doctor Truman is the last out of the house. “I did the best I could with what I have to work with, Ramona. You know my opinion. The girl should go to the hospital.” He tips his hat at us and shakes Dad’s hand.
“I wish you luck, Max. You’re gonna need it.” The doctor gets into the Jeep. It kicks up a cloud of dust as it speeds away.
MacKenna, Ramona, Dad and I form a tight, cramped circle on the porch.
“This discussion is not over, Max,” Ramona says.
Dad sidesteps all of us and Ramona is first in line in trailing after him. I’m yet again assigned a low priority.
“You heard what the doctor said, Ramona. It isn’t safe for the girl to travel,” Dad says as he takes off at a quick walk. I’m about to follow when he says, “The two of you need to get your personal packs organized and bring them out to the truck. We leave in twenty.”
MacKenna and I exchange a glance. What truck? We left Dad’s truck back in the desert.
“Dad. What about Mom?”
My father runs a hand through his hair. “Jinx, Carver’s people are coming and I don’t want to be hanging around when they get here. I’m sorry about Navarro, but believe me when I tell you that he can take care of himself. All other conversation will have to wait.”
Ramona ignores all of this. “Now, you listen to me you SOB. The doctor says if she travels she might get an infection. If she stays here she’ll be killed. Sick beats dead, Max.”
Ramona jogs after Dad, who’s making a beeline for the barn. Their conversation continues as I head inside the house. MacKenna remains in the doorway, looking unsure of whether to follow me or them.
She follows me.
I ignore Toby and Annika over in the corner on the side of the room farthest from the door, but MacKenna stops. I’m already in the hall when I hear her say, “Doomsday says to get our packs together. We’re leaving in twenty.”
“I’m not leaving without Annika,” Toby tells her.
MacKenna scowls at him. “Your butt is gonna be in that truck if I have to drag you out there by your—”
Their conversation fades as I enter the guest bedroom, being careful not to disturb Charles, who is sprawled out diagonally across the bed, reading a book.
Ramona has tossed the supplies from the minimart onto the floor alongside the row of our disheveled backpacks. I pack for me and Charles. Since MacKenna hasn’t come back, I get her stuff together as well, divvying up the tampons, deodorant and lip balm between our bags. This, too, is part of the drill. Never let one person carry all the supplies.
I follow the drills. I do what I’m told. Step by step.
I grab all three packs and hobble down the hall to where Annika is watching Toby and MacKenna argue. Her perfect blond head moves side to side, following the action. As if she’d like nothing better than to grab a bowl of popcorn and enjoy the show.
“The bottom line here is that you don’t get to decide—” Toby is saying.
I toss MacKenna’s backpack at her feet and sling Charles’s over my shoulder. “MacKenna is right. The bottom line here is that if Miss Universe can’t manage to stuff a pair of pants and a shirt in a bag, she shouldn’t be coming with us. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”
Toby’s anger shifts toward me. But I don’t care. Losing Navarro and getting stuck with Ammon Carver’s daughter feels like the worst of all worlds.
I leave the house.
MacKenna stays close to me. It’s like she wants to find my mom as much as I do. Her survival skills are getting better. She busts out her flashlight and shines it over the trail. Together, we jog toward the barn.
Light streams from a couple doors that have been propped open by Folgers coffee cans. The large building is made of the same green wood siding as the stables. Dad and Ramona are inside and in the middle of a heated conversation.
“This wasn’t part of the deal, Ramona,” my dad says. He is in the process of loading supplies into Healy’s old truck. He’s also got a couple of laptops set up on a worktable. One is connected to a long flight drone. Military grade. I fight off the temptation to ask where he could have possibly gotten it.
Ramona puts her hands on her hips. “I’m changing the deal. You want your kin safe. I want the same.”
“You didn’t give a damn about that girl until she walked through your front door a few hours ago,” Dad says gruffly. He grabs two-gallon jugs of water in each hand and carries them into the horse trailer.
When he comes out, Ramona rounds on him. “I thought she was safe. That she’d be safe. Now I know she’s not. It changes things.”
Dad sighs.
I come into the center of the barn, near the truck.
Mom and Jay are carrying supplies to the horse trailer.
I jump in front of Mom’s path. “I have to talk to you.”
Mom looks weird. Like she’s dressed up in Ramona Healy’s clothes. She’s wearing a fancy blue sweater with an old-fashioned white collar. She’s styled her hair.
“This isn’t the best time, Jinx,” she says, looking around me at Dad, who continues to argue with Ramona.
“Mom, what happened with Gus? He’s gone. Did you tell him to go?”
MacKenna stands a few paces away but she’s watching what’s going on.
Mom’s brown eyes snap to mine. She hesitates for a second. Thinking hard. When she speaks, it’s in a whisper. “You have to listen to me. Your father is a great man. But he doesn’t know everything, and one of the things he doesn’t know is how to take his own advice. Trust no one. Let me tell you, Jinx. That boy cannot be trusted.”
DR. DOOMSDAY’S GUIDE TO ULTIMATE SURVIVAL
RULE FOURTEEN: NEVER SURRENDER. DON’T PUT YOUR FATE IN THE HANDS OF YOUR ENEMY.
My heart falls.
She has to be wrong. “Mom, we can’t let him wander around in the desert—” Before I can tell her how Navarro got his butt kicked to save me and Charles at the gas station, she puts her hand up.
“I’ll explain more when there’s time.” She puts her arms around me and with a reassuring squeeze says, “I can see why you like him. Sweetheart, sometimes the things we like aren’t good for us. We need to focus on getting out of here.”
