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Nigel nodded. “Lovely.” He checked the gas gauge. “Could’ve nicked us something with a bit more fuel efficiency, Izzy.”
She snorted. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
“Limited funds,” Nigel said. “And a long bloody drive.”
Ran reached out with her telekinesis and plucked the wad of bills from Nigel’s cargo pocket. She counted through them. “I think we have enough,” she announced.
“Hope so,” Caleb said.
Isabela groaned. “God, we’ll be fine. If we run out of money, we get more. No big deal.”
“You mean steal more,” Kopano said.
“Uh, yeah,” Isabela replied. “Obviously.”
Kopano was quiet for a moment. “We must find Taylor. That is the most important thing. But when that is done, we should make sure the cars we stole are returned to their owners. And that anything else we take is returned.” He looked out the window. “I do not want to be a thief.”
“Sure, mate,” Nigel said. “We’ll send ’em nice thank-you notes, too.”
Soon, they had left the city behind and were cutting across the desert. Scrubby plants and cactus whipped by, whorls of reddish sand blown across the hot pavement. They passed through Joshua Tree, the fuzzy branches of the yucca trees reaching up like twisted alien arms. As they drove out of California and into Arizona the land became flat and burned, the view dotted by bursts of emerald palms that stood in opposition to the sun. For stretches, they could see for miles, but then the horizon would rise up and become mountainous. They navigated through chasms, the highway itself cut through the jagged sandstone mountains.
“I just saw a cattle skull on the side of the road,” Caleb said as he peered out the window. “You know, with like the horns all bleached by the sun?”
“So?” Nigel replied.
Caleb shrugged. “Dunno. Thought that was just a thing they put in movies to make it seem hot out.” He paused thoughtfully. “There’s this game we could play. Roadkill bingo?”
“No,” Isabela said sharply.
They all took turns behind the wheel. Whoever sat shotgun tried to keep the driver company. The others took turn dozing off, either sitting upright in the middle row or stretched out across the backseat.
Isabela was grateful that they’d found a blanket in the trunk. When she felt herself getting tired from all the sitting around and endless desert, she draped herself across the backseat and pulled the blanket over her. She turned to face the trunk, leaving a small gap in the blanket for air. This way, no one would be able to see her when she dozed off. None of the others commented on her huddled form.
When Isabela woke up, they were driving on the outskirts of Phoenix. It was sunset. The city glittered orange in the distance, an oasis of glass and life after hours of mountains. She shifted around under her blanket to get a look at the others. Nigel and Ran were both asleep, too, Nigel with his head resting on the Japanese girl’s shoulder. Isabela smirked at that. In front, Caleb drove while Kopano kept him company.
The two of them were quietly talking about Taylor, going over the events of the night before for the hundredth time. The guy who had taken her didn’t seem like a Harvester. Unlike the cult, whoever he was, he wanted Taylor alive. Both Kopano and Caleb agreed that was a good thing. Well, as much as kidnapping could be a good thing.
“If he has hurt her in any way,” Kopano declared, “I will have vengeance.”
“Yeah,” Caleb agreed. “Me too.”
Under her blanket, Isabela rolled her eyes.
“I am sorry, by the way,” Kopano said. “For throwing you through the windshield of that car.”
Caleb rubbed the back of his neck, which was covered in small cuts and bruised up. Isabela noticed he had been sitting rigidly, but she’d thought that was just Caleb’s normal posture. He was hurt, she realized. Ribs probably broken, but hiding it.
“No worries,” Caleb told Kopano. “It wasn’t you. That prick took control somehow.”
Did either of the two would-be heroes know they both had a crush on Taylor? They were both oblivious and going out of their way to be nice, but Isabela figured they had to see each other as competition. All that macho talk, battling over who could promise revenge with the most gravitas. Dense boys. She couldn’t wait to tell Taylor about this.
Weeks ago, Isabela realized, she would’ve been jealous of Taylor getting all this attention. But now, she missed her friend. She even felt a tinge of sadness for the two love-struck meatheads in the front of the van, at least one of whom would surely be rejected.
Ugh. She was getting soft.
It took another couple of hours to reach New Mexico. By then, night had fallen and they were all awake.
They found Silver City and then Route 15. Caleb unfolded the map and studied it in the Escalade’s yellowish dome light. Silver City’s architecture was more modest than Phoenix, the buildings not as glittery and lower slung, man-made hunks of stone popping up from the desert.
“Did they want their town to look like a graveyard?” Isabela asked.
“The place we’re looking for isn’t really in town,” Caleb said. “I think it’s up north in the forest.”
They passed along the edge of town and drove to Gila National Forest. According to the map, the area stretched over four thousand square miles. The rocky desert sloped upwards, gradually giving way to masses of thick, triangular pine trees. The grass grew taller here and didn’t look as scorched; it appeared purple and wavy in the moonlight. They ascended via a series of switchbacks, the trees thickened and soon the dots of light from Silver City were swallowed up behind them.
For a while, there wasn’t another car on the road. Nearby, a wolf howled.
“Bloody hell,” Nigel said. “Of course they would set up in axe murderer country.”
“I find it serene,” Ran replied.
Nigel smirked at her. “See if you still think that when some inbred bloke in a hockey mask is carving you up into little pieces.”
Ran looked back at him. “I would like to see this bloke try.”
Isabela chuckled, enjoying the banter. It helped ease the mood a bit. Kopano and Caleb were both wholly focused on the road ahead, ready for battle at any moment.
“Are we sure this is even the right way?” Isabela asked.
As if in answer, a pair of headlights appeared behind them. Kopano squinted into the rearview and slowed down a bit. The glowing headlamps behind them crisscrossed—not a car, but two motorcycles—the bikes soon careening by them up the road. They each carried the sort of leather-clad tough guy who had accosted the Garde last night.
“Want to bet those lads show us the way?” Nigel asked.
“Do not get too close to them,” Ran warned.
Kopano let the motorcycles get out of sight, then continued up the winding road through the forest. Five minutes later, as they came around a bend, a wooden sign wreathed in Christmas lights came into view. Scrawled in chipped paint across the boards—APACHE JACK’S.
“My dad used to talk about places like this,” Caleb said. “Dive bars off the beaten path. Used to brag about all the brawls he got into.”
“Thanks for sharing,” Isabela said.
A hundred years ago, Apache Jack’s was probably a trading post. There was still a hitching rail outside the long brick building, but instead of horses there were now motorcycles parked in front. The gravel parking lot was also filled with trailers, pickup trucks and muscle cars, many of these decorated to look like postapocalyptic war machines. The whole scene was lit by neon beer signs in the bar windows and fire barrels in the parking lot. A couple dozen men milled around the vehicles or drank on the shaded porch. Half of them were armed with either shotguns or rifles.
Kopano slowed the Escalade, but Isabela snapped at him, “Keep going!”
“But . . . she could be in there.”
“Does it look like we would belong in that parking lot?” Isabela asked. “I’m surprised they’re not already shooti
ng at us. Go, go, go!”
Kopano stepped on the gas and they zoomed by Apache Jack’s. Some of the men in the parking lot tracked the Escalade with their eyes, but none of them made any move to follow. As they drove by, Isabela caught a glimpse of some kind of tall wooden structure behind the bar but couldn’t make out any details.
They put a half mile of winding road between them and Apache Jack’s to make sure they weren’t followed. Eventually, Kopano pulled off to the side of the road and killed the engine.
“How are we going to do this?” he asked.
“We can hike in through the woods,” Ran said. “Come at the place from the back.”
“I should go in alone,” Isabela said. “Do . . . what do you call it? Reconnaissance.”
They turned around to look at Isabela and all of them jumped when they saw her new appearance.
She had taken on the look of a male midfifties biker. Hefty and hairy, with coarse salt-and-pepper hair tied in a sloppy ponytail. She wore an open leather vest that exposed her prodigious beer belly, a pair of scuffed-up jeans and cowboy boots.
“What do you think?” Isabela asked, her normal voice issuing from the biker’s chapped lips.
“Your hottest look yet,” Nigel said, staring at her.
“You want to make out with me?” Isabela asked, leering.
Ran reached back and poked Isabela’s new belly. “Very good,” she said.
Isabela grinned, the biker’s teeth yellow and crooked. “Thank you.”
