All Is Silence - Deserted Lands #1

Chapter 31 - Part I

MANNIE GLARED AS A MIDDLE-AGED man with a beer belly and a uniform loose everywhere else slid open the cell bars.

“You folks ready to go into The City?” The guard made it sound like he was taking them to Disneyland.

“We have some choice in the matter?” Mannie asked.

The guard, shook his head. “Nope. Sorry. I drive the bus.”

Mannie stood up and stretched his knee. “You got a name?”

“Friends call me, Rocky.” The man offered his hand.

Mannie paused and stared at the offered hand. “I’m Mannie.” He shook it, startled by the surrealness of such a normal activity. Not like they hadn’t all been exposed.

“Yeah.” Rocky nodded. “I guess that makes sense.”

Jess nudged BeeGee awake on the other bunk.

Rocky led them outside to a waiting van. Snowflakes floated down on the clean and pretty ground.

Inside the van, one man rode in the passenger seat, shotgun in hand. Two more young men with guns were in the back. They weren’t an enemy Mannie was used to: civilians—realtors, accountants, gardeners. He thought about escaping, but with amateurs and guns things would go downhill fast. And he couldn’t face any more ghosts.

Mannie stared northward and sighed. So close. He climbed in, nodding at the young men; they looked bored.

Jess climbed in and sat next to him, giving him a half smile. BeeGee climbed in and Jess slid over until she was up against him. The ride was quiet.

                                                        *      *      *

Lizzie sat in the passenger side of the Tank as it bounced along toward Salt Lake City. Carter drove. Travis drove the boss’s truck and the other truck followed behind.

Carter hadn’t shut up since he finished his last Coke. “Lizzie, you really are kinda crazy, ain’t ya? Kinda remind me of my daughter, God rest her soul.” He sighed and shook cigarette ash out the window.

“Yeah.”

“You know I really ain’t a slaver. I worked it out in my head. You want to know what I figure?” He fumbled open the six-pack cooler, driving with his knee for a moment. “Damn, no more Coke.”

Lizzie ignored him.

“It’s like Lincoln said,” he continued, even without a prompt. “‘Most people do about the best they can with what they got any given moment.’ Or somethin’ like that.”

“It was Anne Frank.”

“Yeah. Mebbe. I’m doin’ right by people.”

“Yourself included?” she spat.

“Why not?” He took another drag on his cigarette.

Her confidence was shaken in the light of the new day. She wondered if she really would find her dad in Provo, and once she did, how she would get away and find her friends again. What if they left without her? She realized she had been in such a rush to find her dad that she had left behind the people who were most important to her.

“Want some music?” Lizzie asked. “I can plug in my player.” She held her breath and took the dead phone out of her pocket.”

“Sure. But I doubt you’ll have my kind of music, youngster.”

“Try me.” Lizzie’s shoulders relaxed, as she plugged it into the cigarette lighter. He hadn’t realized it was a phone—or maybe he didn’t care. “I’m pretty eclectic.”

“Waylon, Merle, Willie. Johnny Cash. You might have some of his stuff. That newer crap.”

“Got ‘em. Mom was into country and old rock. They’re kinda all mixed in. You like Patsy? Emmylou?”

“Like ‘em both.” He sounded excited, like he hadn’t expected to hear music again.

Lizzie slid through the music. “Crazy. Sort of my theme song.”

He laughed and turned up the volume, belting out the chorus. The music put Carter in a better mood and she was able to flip back and forth, unnoticed, between the music and texting, as the phone charged.

She texted Zach. Heading for provo. Where r u?

Carter’s phone rang, and Lizzie jumped, thinking it was her phone for a moment. He answered his phone, she made sure hers was on silent.

From Lizzie’s side, the conversation consisted only of monosyllabic comments.

He took the next exit as he hung up the phone. He smiled at her. “A little detour. Keep us out of The City for a while…”

“My dad?”

“Already on the way.”

“What?”

“On his way to The City. I got shit to take care of in Salt Lake.”

Lizzie seethed. Behind them the others followed, taking the exit into Salt Lake City. The snow had thickened, coating the entire freeway white. No road crews anymore. She tried breathing gently like a counselor had suggested once. In deep, then out slow.

She forgot the music and the phone as they got further from her dad. Her mood became more foul. She slunk down low in the seat, refusing to look at Carter. They drove on in silence.

“Collectors ain’t the only thing to worry about, you know.”

He seemed disappointed when she didn’t ask what he meant.

“There are people out there, call themselves the Utah Independents, they don’t just collect young women. They’re your slavers.” He paused as if to let that sink in. “The City’s not all peaches and cream, but out here it’s worse.”

Lizzie texted one handed: Not going to provo yet.