Night Beyond The Night (8 page)

Having set her mount free, Jade walked toward Envy. She took care to be as unobtrusive as possible, keeping trees, buildings, and any other object as a shield between herself and anyone who might be watching from the city walls. The three main gates were large and obvious and drew the attention of any approaching traveler. And no one but Jade, Lou, and Theo knew about the hidden entrance positioned on the southwest side beneath an old sign with a girl called Wendy on it.

That was because the Waxnicki brothers had built the hidden entrance long ago, when the walls were first being erected to keep out the
gangas
.

If only they’d kept out the Strangers too. Not that Strangers were plentiful in Envy, or even often ventured into the city walls. At least, as far as they knew.

Jade easily slipped between the heavy bushes that grew along the protective walls, which had been made from old train cars, semi-truck trailers, and a variety of stacked debris. They’d also used big house-sized signs called billboards and even some bricks and metal sheeting taken from the destroyed buildings. The walls, which in places were little more than a mountain range of junk, rose more than twenty feet high. In fact, they could be used to keep Envyites in as well as
gangas
out.

Uncomfortable with that very possibility of being penned in was the reason Lou and Theo had created their own passageway, using a large culvert. They’d secretly positioned the metal pipe—which was large enough for a man to walk through—beneath collapsed billboards and tumbling walls. Then, they had obstructed both ends of it with more debris, causing it to blend into the piles of rubble that had been formed by the cleanup after the Change.

Only someone like Jade, who knew which objects to move and how, could find and utilize the passage.

Now, she emerged from the inside of the culvert and found herself in an old boxcar. Feeling her way in the dark, she moved through the car and through a trapdoor in the floor, easing herself onto the ground three feet below. She crouched, hurrying out from under the boxcar, slid from behind a warped sheet of metal, and found herself on what had once been a street.

The sun had dropped farther, and with the height of the wall, Jade was well hidden on the overgrown street. She slipped quickly and silently along the dim alley between the building and the barricade of debris. All was quiet but for the soft rustle of some animal scuttling through the dark, and the far-distant sounds of voices and activity.

But . . . she heard something else. Something that didn’t belong.

The back of Jade’s shoulders prickled. She slowed and slid into the shadows, feeling the rough, age-pitted wall beneath her hands. Voices. Low and careful.

Unusual for this area of the city, where few people had the need or desire to venture. There was nothing here but piles of rubble, and a few half-walls from destroyed buildings. Whatever might have been of value had been scavenged long ago.

The voices were deep, indicating they were men. They spoke quickly and quietly, their feet kicking up old sticks and dislodging stones, taking little care to hide their presence. Or perhaps they simply didn’t expect anyone to be here.

Jade knew she had to make a decision—whether to hide, or to go boldly forward and bluff her way through a possible meeting. It could be a perfectly innocent situation . . . but something felt wrong. She’d never encountered anyone else in this area, and she realized suddenly why it felt wrong. They carried no light. No illumination. But anyone else, without a nefarious purpose, would want to safely light their way.

Of course, she wasn’t carrying a light either . . . so what did that say about her?

Jade pushed against the wall, feeling her way for an opening or indentation in which she could hide. The voices were coming closer and she’d hardly moved.

Her heart picked up speed and she moved as quickly as she dared, taking care to lift her feet carefully and deliberately, placing her steps smoothly so as not to rustle or scuff. At last . . . the wall angled beneath her fingers and she edged sharply into unknown darkness. The brick or concrete seeped chill into her back and palms, and leaves from its overgrowth brushed her face and caught at her hair.

Something moved . . . slithered . . . over her foot and she barely contained a surprised—and horrified—gasp, muffling it with a hard, horse-scented palm over her mouth.
Oh God!
Mice, rats, possums . . . she could handle any of the four-footed creatures and some of the eight-legged ones. Just not the ones that slid on their bellies.

Then . . . no more slithering. A faint rustle from where the snake glided off, hopefully far away, and Jade realized that the men were approaching. So much for the hope that they might not come in this direction.

Peering around the edge of her hiding place, Jade saw the two figures. They were outlined in the gathering shadows, black against the blue-gray of falling night. And beneath one of their shirts, faint but unmistakable, she saw a faint glow. Very subtle, hardly noticeable if you weren’t looking for it and if the fabric wasn’t too heavy.

A Stranger.

Here in Envy, lurking in the darkness.

Jade’s heart ramrodded in her throat and a trickle of nervous perspiration rolled down her spine. But her shock increased as they drew closer.

For, even in the low light, she recognized one of them—the one without the crystal glow of immortality. Rob Nurmikko, one of the plastic workers. He melted down a variety of objects left over from before the Change—milk cartons, parts of cars, toys, whatever he could find—and created furniture and other goods from them. Jade had one of his heart-shaped chairs in her room.

He was working with a Stranger?

Jade held her breath as they drew nearer.

“It’s not my fault they never showed last night,” Rob was saying. “I can’t exactly drag—”

“I’ll be happy to give your excuses to Preston,” interrupted the Stranger coolly. “You know how well that’ll go over.”

“No, wait.
Wait.
I’ll get ’em. How much time?” Rob’s voice was strained and thready.

“The shipment’s going on Friday,” replied his companion flatly. “Everything’s got to be ready by then, or he’ll have your fucking head. If you screw up this shipment, he’ll send the Marcks after you.”

“I’ll have the cargo by then.” The plastics maker’s voice didn’t sound very convincing.

“Either that, or you’d best disappear. Because if you don’t manage it this time—and he’s expecting prime goods—then you’ll be
ganga
lunch.” The other man laughed as they passed by Jade’s hiding place and she closed her eyes, praying that they wouldn’t look into the darkness.

“I need more grit,” Jade heard Rob whine as the two men faded into distance and darkness, but she could discern nothing else after that, for the ominous conversation still rang in her mind.

Preston
. Just hearing his name was enough to make her knees tremble and the bottom drop out of her stomach . . . but to know that someone here, in Envy, had a connection to him . . . was preparing a cargo for him . . . threatened to give her nightmares. She’d hoped, maybe in the deepest part of her heart, that something had happened to Preston in the last three years . . . but what, after all, could happen to an immortal man?

Not much, as long as he had his crystal.

But the other thing that settled in her mind, besides the fear that she would be discovered as Diana Kapiza, was Rob’s plea for more grit.

Crystal grit. Also known as pixie or crystal dust.

A hallucinogen she’d become horribly, frighteningly familiar with during her captivity. What had Rob gotten himself mixed up in?

The daylong trek took Elliott and his friends north through the mountains, and by the time they made it through the pass, the western horizon had bisected the sun. Darkness would soon come, and with it, the night creatures, and according to the kids, they still had about an hour’s worth of travel.

Fence and Wyatt each carried a bottle bomb, ready to be lit. Quent had his arrows, and Simon and Elliott each had one of the group’s precious firearms, loaded with even more precious bullets.

Bullets for the wolves, bottle bombs for the
gangas
.

During the day, Elliott saw several old and rusted-out vehicles along the side of the overgrown road, but he’d stopped wondering where the rest of them had gone. Just as he no longer expected to find bodies, or even skeletons, lurking in the buildings into which they’d ventured. If there had been any, they’d disappeared long ago, perhaps taken off by wolves or wild dogs . . . or perhaps not.

Perhaps something else had happened to them.

“Is that a lake over there?” Fence asked, pointing toward the setting sun. They were standing on a high point just beyond the mountain pass.

Elliott turned and saw nothing but gray-blue ridges of low mountains; but, then, he wasn’t Fence.

“I don’t see nothing,” said one of the boys. “But Envy’s right by the ocean.” He pointed. “See that bit of light? That’s Envy.”

Elliott saw the patch of lights. From the size of the cluster, it looked like a fairly large settlement. And if they wanted to get there before dark, they’d better hurry.

“The ocean,” Fence murmured. Elliott, who walked just behind him, could almost hear the wheels turning. “But that’s not right. It can’t be.” He looked at the boy who’d answered him. “How do you know it’s an ocean?”

“Salt water,” Geoff said. His voice held a cocky edge that Elliott could relate to from his own youth.

Apparently even the apocalypse hadn’t changed teenaged attitude.

“The Great Salt Lake maybe?” Fence murmured, mostly to himself. He’d paused walking and Elliott saw that he’d closed his eyes. “That might make more sense. But no . . . we’re too far west.”

“It’s an ocean,” Geoff said. “Not a lake. Seashells.” The
duh
remained unspoken, but hung there nevertheless.

“We’re not that far west,” Fence replied.

Before they could continue, a strange trumpeting sound filled the air. Elliott turned toward the noise. No way.

“Bloody hell, that sounded like an elephant,” said Quent.

“Yeah. There’s a big herd of ’em,” said Marcus, one of the other boys. “They live here.” As if a herd of elephants were as common as deer.

“No fucking way,” Simon replied.

“Where the hell are we, Fence?” asked Elliott.

They reached the bottom of the incline and one of the girls stopped and pointed to the southwest. “See?”

And there, silhouetted by the orange ball of sun were the very definite outlines of four elephants, looking like something out of
The Lion King
. They trumpeted again, and in what became clear was a warning, they began to stampede into the darkness, trumpeting and thundering and stirring up dirt.

Fortunately, they were running away from their path . . . but the distant roar that overrode the sound of elephantine steps had Elliott stopping cold. No way.

“Tiger?”

“That or a lion,” said Wyatt. “And I’m not thinking mountain, though I wouldn’t want to meet an angry one of those either. Christ. Elephants,
gangas
, tigers. Where the hell are we?”

No one mentioned Kansas. That joke had become old six fucking months ago.

The lights were closer now, for they’d kept up their pace despite the fascinating zoological sights.

Was that the . . . Statue of Liberty?

It was crooked as all hell. And bent.

But, unfuckingbelievable, it looked like the damned Statue of Liberty.

The small cluster of lights around and below it glittered like gems of red, blue, yellow, green, and white. This was definitely the largest—or at least, the most well-lit—settlement they’d seen in their year of wandering.

“Holy shit,” Fence said. “The Statue of Liberty? No fucking way, man. I’m not that confused.”

At that moment, Elliott saw the shape of a massive golden lion, looming like an off-kilter shadow in the darkness, beyond the lights. And a collection of huge toy-castle turrets, silhouetted against the orange sun.

Then suddenly Simon started laughing. A little crazily.

“It’s Vegas, you ass-wipes. We’re in fucking Las Vegas.”

New Vegas, N.V, or Envy—whatever the hell you wanted to call it—wasn’t exactly Sin City.

It was half of Sin City.

Less than half.

Elliott blinked again and resisted the urge to rub his eyes.

According to Geoff, the same devastation that had annihilated pretty much all of California also destroyed most of Las Vegas.

Which explained the ocean.

The ocean that now sat about where Caesar’s and Harrah’s used to be.

Holy fucking shit
.

Simon pointed out landmarks he was obviously familiar with. “The Statue of Liberty—she used to be at New York–New York. The
MGM
lion there, and that castle was part of Excalibur.” His voice was dulled by the same surprise and shock that Elliott felt.

Lady Liberty looked more like the leaning Tower of Pisa, precariously tilted to one side, but still gamely clutching her torch. And the massive golden lion from
MGM
, along with the castle towers of Excalibur looked a little like Toyland, unaccountably rising above jagged walls, buckled roofs, and piles of rubble that had once been luxury resorts.

“Well,” said Fence with a forced chuckle, “you know, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

No one bothered to respond.

Seeing Vegas as it now was seemed to put a lid on any possibility that the world they’d been living in for months was just a bad dream, or an anomaly limited to a relatively small geographic area. The sight of the beleaguered city, its desperation clear through the multicolored lights illuminating jagged rooftops, caved-in buildings, and, above all, an eerie stillness that the Strip had never seen, also served to quiet the five of them.

If they’d harbored any hope that things might not be as bad as it had appeared, that optimism was now gone.

As the last vestige of sunlight faded, they reached what could only be described as the city limits. A wall had been constructed around the settlement, reminding Elliott of the kind of guarded village in epic sci-fi or fantasy movies. The barrier had been made of a variety of objects—wheelless semi-truck trailers, bricks, cars piled atop each other, steel beams, and even ragged billboards. In some places, it looked like little more than piles of junk.