The Hunted (12 page)

“I guess all we can do now is hope they were listening, right?” Carmen said.

Shy nodded. “Or at least somebody told them about it.”

“If they're even still alive, that is.” Carmen ate a slice of her orange, staring at one of the fake lifeboats that were attached to the side of the fake cruise ship. The sun behind the fake atrium was just beginning to peek its head out.

Shy shrugged and rested his Styrofoam bowl in his lap while he took a sip from his water bottle.

“All those things DJ Dan told us last night,” Carmen said, “did they freak you out?”

Shy nodded. “But it's not like he told us anything new.”

“I guess.”

Shy spooned the last bit of grainy gray mush into his mouth and set the bowl on the ground beside him. The Sony lots' cold oatmeal tasted like ass, but he knew he needed the nutrients. As soon as the sun went back down, the four of them were leaving the lots for good and heading for Arizona. Who knew how long the supplies they'd stuffed inside their backpacks would have to last.

As Shy watched Carmen look up at a helicopter passing overhead, he fingered the ring in his pocket. It was the reason he'd asked her to follow him out to the Cruise Ship lot after they woke up. He was going to give it to her now, in case anything happened. And it wasn't some big romantic, marriage kind of gesture either. He just wanted her to have it. As friends.

Now if he could just figure out the right way to explain it.

“Uh, Shy?” Carmen said, jarring him out of his head.

“Yeah?” He shoved the ring back in his pocket.

“Is that who I think it is?” Carmen pointed down the narrow main path that ran between the various lots.

Shy stood up.

He wasn't surprised to see his old man again. Only he wasn't on the other side of the fence this time. He was
inside
the property. And instead of wearing his leather Suzuki gear and green gas mask, he was rocking a plain old Raiders T-shirt and jeans, and he was walking his motorcycle up the narrow path, toward them.

The man stopped about twenty yards away and called out: “Shy! Come over here, boy! I wanna talk to you!”

Carmen stood up, too, shouting: “That's too bad,
vato,
'cause Shy doesn't wanna talk to
you
!”

“It's fine,” Shy told her in a quiet voice.

She gave him a dirty look. “You sure?”

He nodded. Before falling asleep the night before, he'd made a decision. He needed to find out what his dad knew about back home. No matter what it was. “Lemme get this over with, and I'll come find you.”

“That's really what you want?”

Shy nodded.

Carmen looked at his dad again, telling Shy: “I'll be on the main lawn if you need me.”

Another helicopter flew overhead as Shy watched Carmen start back down the path carrying orange peels and Shy's half-empty bowl. She slowed a bit to glare at his old man before brushing past his bike, nearly knocking the thing over.

Shy's dad waited until Carmen was at the bottom of the path before turning back to Shy. “Just like your old man,” he said with a grin. “You dig the ones with attitude.” He motioned toward the Wild West lot. “Follow me.”

“I'm not like you at
all,
” Shy mumbled as he followed his dad.

“So, I heard you on the radio last night,” his dad said, leaning his bike on its stand inside the fenced-off horse run. Behind them was a row of enclosed stables that looked too small to house an actual horse. “You aren't really thinking of leaving, are you?”

Shy shrugged. “Why you wearing regular clothes?”

“They make us check everything at the front before we come in. And then they put us through the same tests as everyone else.” Shy's old man peeked inside one of the empty stables. “I can't let you leave here, Shy. It's too dangerous. And this is my second chance.”

“Second chance for what?” Shy said.

“To be your dad.” He turned and looked right into Shy's eyes. “Like I told you yesterday, son. Those earthquakes changed me.”

Shy looked away. He focused on the inside of the stables. He'd followed his dad out here to ask about his family back home. His
real
family. Not to listen to the same empty promises his dad had been feeding him since Shy could remember.

“I've been thinking about something you said yesterday.” His dad cleared his throat. “About me never teaching you anything.”

“It doesn't matter anymore—”

“No, you were right,” his dad said, cutting him off. “Lemme ask you this. Ever ridden a motorcycle before?”

Shy shook his head. Even though he'd rehearsed it in his head, he was nervous to ask about back home. What if his dad really knew something and it was really bad? Would he be able to deal?

“I'm gonna teach you how to ride.” His dad patted the seat of his motorcycle for Shy to get on.

“Look, I followed you out here for one reason,” Shy said. He cleared his throat. “What do you know about back home? Honestly, did something happen to Mom?”

His dad ignored him. “You don't wanna get on, that's fine. I'll just talk you through it instead.” The man climbed on the bike and held up the key. Then he slipped it into the ignition. “First you turn the key like this. See how that red light just came on? That means it's ready to start. Gears work like this.” He pointed to the thin round pedal underneath his right foot. “Down is first. Up one from that is neutral. Up from that is second and so on.”

“Come on, Pop,” Shy said, getting pissed.

“Hang on,” his dad said. “Let me show you this first. Then I'll answer whatever questions you got.”

Shy heard another engine in the distance. It sounded different than a motorcycle, though. Bigger. His dad turned toward it, too. When the sound faded, Shy said: “Let's just get this over with then.”

“Being able to ride is important out here, boy. You've seen the roads.” When Shy didn't say anything back, his dad added: “You don't have to decide right this second, but I've been thinking…if you really don't wanna stay here, maybe you could ride with me and the guys. The shit we're doing is important, son.”

Shy almost laughed in his dad's face. Did he really think Shy was gonna ditch Carmen, Marcus and Shoeshine to ride with the group of thugs that tried to set his motor home on fire? It's not that he wanted anything bad to happen to his dad. In fact, if he could, he'd sneak him one of the syringes to protect him from the disease. But at the same time, he didn't want his dad thinking they were gonna skip off together in some kind of bullshit happy ending.

“I'm getting ahead of myself, though. We can talk about that later.” His dad turned to his bike again. “So once you turn on the ignition, you hold in the clutch with your hand like this, and you kick down into first gear.”

As his dad went on with his little motorcycle lesson, Shy's thoughts drifted to his family back home. He pictured their faces. His mom's. His sister's. Miguel's. What would he do if he found out something had happened to them?

“Just tell me the truth,” Shy finally said, cutting off his dad. “What do you know?”

The man paused, staring at Shy.

“I deserve the truth.”

His dad took a deep breath and blew it out slow. “Look, I spoke to Teresa only a few hours before the earthquakes,” he said. “Miguel didn't make it. He died of the disease.”

Shy just stood there, staring at his dad. His body going cold. He'd almost expected this part, but it still hit him like a brick. “I thought they had him on meds, though.”

His dad nodded. “I'm telling you what I heard.”

Shy turned away, imagining Mr. Miller's face. Imagining how the man's expression would change if he stuck him with a knife. “What about Mom and Teresa?”

“Look, Shy,” his dad said. “If you just stay here a little longer—”

“Come on, Pop,” Shy said, begging this time. “Just…please. Tell me what you know.”

“I don't know anything. Not for sure.”

Shy shifted his gaze to the ground, wanting to believe that was it, but he knew his dad was holding something back. “What do you
think,
though?”

“I'll say this, okay?” His dad lifted Shy's chin so their eyes met.

Shy's ears were already ringing in anticipation. Because he could sense it. The news he was about to hear would change everything.

“A day after the earthquakes,” his dad went on, “I got through to a guy I used to work with in Chula Vista on my phone. This was right before the last of the cell towers went down.” He took a breath and let it out slowly. “Otay Mesa's gone,
mijo.
All the surrounding towns, too. Anyone who survived the earthquakes was wiped out by the fires.” He paused. “They're all gone,
mijo.
Down there was hit harder than any other place in the state.”

Shy's stomach climbed into his throat, and he kneeled down and stuck his palms against the dirt.

He pictured his mom. Dead.

His sister. Dead.

There was no longer anything for him back home. Or anywhere else. Because maybe he was dead, too.

His dad tried to pull Shy up by his shoulders. “Listen to me, Shy. We'll get through this together. Because I realized something. You're all I ever had in this world. I mean that shit honestly.”

Shy stayed on his hands and knees, staring at the dirt, for several minutes. The faint sound of his dad's empty words raining down on his head. When he'd imagined this moment earlier in the morning, he saw himself shouting at the sky. And sobbing. But he didn't do either of those things now. He just sat there, numb, his eyes out of focus.

A loud crashing sound made him finally look up.

It came from somewhere on the property.

“What the fuck?” he heard his dad mumble.

Shy then heard the loud revving of an engine. Same one as before, only closer now. Then he saw a black SUV drive right through a row of thick hedges, into the Wild West lot.

Shy scrambled to his feet.

Two men dressed in black jumped out of the vehicle on the far side of the horse run and pulled out handguns.

Before Shy could react, the men were marching forward and firing, their bullets cutting tracks in the dirt beside his feet.