Eldorado (29 page)

“Come on, Zonk!” shouted Richard. “This is no time to screw around.” He hopped in himself and patted the cushion beside him. After a few seconds of whining and hesitation, Zonk finally jumped up next to him. Carrie climbed into the front beside Keller and slammed the door shut.

“Let’s go!” Richard said.

Keller gunned the engine. The giant car jumped forward, but suddenly stopped and the engine went dead.

“What was that?” said Richard.

“Sorry,” answered Keller, “I haven't driven a car with a standard transmission for more than thirty years.”

“Great,” said Richard under his breath.

Keller twisted the key and the car started again immediately. The engine roared as he pressed the gas pedal to the floor. He let go of the clutch and the car gave a massive leap forward, tossing them all half out of their seats. They lurched ahead, stopping and starting, as Keller fought desperately to master the clutch mechanism. Up the road to their left in the distance two motorcycles appeared, headed straight for them. It was clear from the way they were dressed that it wasn’t the police.

“What are they doing here?” yelled Keller over his shoulder.

“Damned if I know,” answered Richard. “Crack was desperate to get Zonk back. He sent some guys out looking for him. I guess they finally caught up with him – I hope you’re going to get the hang of this transmission pretty soon.”

Keller was sweating, wrestling with the lurching vehicle. The engine alternately roared and approached stalling as he tried to get a feel for the clutch. The bikes were almost on top of them. One of them pulled a gun out of his belt.

“Keep your heads down!” Richard yelled. They all ducked, as several bullets whizzed overhead.

The bikes were within fifty yards when the car finally took one last jump forward and continued on at a decent pace. The Black Cherry tore up the dirt road leading to the right and out of Keller’s property, sending out a spray of loose gravel. Keller was clearly gaining control and shifted to a higher gear with little of the usual lurching. They sped up but still couldn’t outrun the bikes.

“Use the gun,” Keller yelled back to Richard, passing him a large revolver.

Richard fumbled with the gun and flipped the safety. He peeked carefully above the back seat and folded convertible-top and swallowed hard. The bikers were within ten yards of the car. A bullet spun past his head tearing a hole in the fabric of the convertible-top.

He sighted down the barrel of the gun at the closest biker and pulled the trigger. The gun fired, throwing his arm back and half-deafening him. He missed, but the rider, spooked by the shot, swerved and almost crashed into his partner. The two stayed on their bikes but lost ground to the car, which Keller was finally driving with some kind of confidence.

Richard got ready to fire again. The riders both assumed a weaving motion, but were still gaining on the car. The curves in the road got tighter; Keller couldn’t maintain his speed. Richard glanced ahead. They were approaching a tight turn.

We’re done for
,
he thought
, as Keller was forced to slow to less than half their former speed. The riders would be on top of them in seconds. Bullets continued to spin over their heads. Richard didn’t even have a chance to fire back.

Suddenly Zonk jumped up and climbed over the folded convertible top and up onto the trunk of the car. The wind blew back the fur around his face as he stood shakily, his clawed feet squeaking on the smooth metal surface.

“Zonk,” Richard screamed. “Get back down here. What the hell do you think you’re doing!”

Ignoring Richard’s pleading Zonk stepped gingerly toward the back. The shooting stopped, as the bikers were apparently petrified of hitting the precious animal. Almost immediately Zonk began to slide off the trunk and finally leapt to the ground. The car was moving slowly. He landed in some soft grass on the shoulder. Richard sat with his mouth open.

The closest biker swerved to intercept the dog and cut off his escape. Zonk yelped and changed direction, trying to run around his flank. The rider gunned his bike and twisted in a tight circle, cutting him off again. His partner moved up and they tried to trap Zonk between them. Richard took aim at the first biker and fired.

This time it was a hit – his target winced and grabbed at his arm. His bike accelerated, slid into a patch of loose gravel, then drifted sideways into a ditch at the side of the road.

Zonk bounded into a stand of young poplars that lined the roadway, and the remaining biker turned to chase after him. Apparently Crack had impressed on them how important it was to bring back the dog.

“What happened?” yelled Keller.

“That dog’s insane!” said Richard. “He just jumped up and dove out of the car. I can’t believe it!”

“He must have been scared by all the gunfire,” said Keller. “Is he okay? Do you want me to try to go back for him?”

“He was okay after the jump,” said Richard. “He ran off into the woods. No, we can’t afford to go after him. He’ll have to fend for himself. I hope he’ll be okay.”

“Something tells me that dog can take care of himself,” said Keller. “What about the bikers?”

“One’s either hurt or dead. The other one’s gone. I guess Zonk is more important to them than we are. Stop for a minute – I want to go and check.”

“Are you sure?” said Keller.

“He’s the enemy, but he’s still a human being. His partner took off – nobody else is going to help him.”

“You’re still a sentimental greenhorn after all,” said Keller, “but it’s your call.”

“Be careful,” Carrie called after him. “Wait – I’ll come with you.”

Richard kept the gun drawn as they approached the motionless form of the biker. As they drew closer, it was obvious they had nothing to fear. Their attacker had been thrown from his bike and his head had struck a large rock. What was left was a mess; there was no question of him ever being a threat to them again. Richard turned away.

“Are you alright?” said Carrie.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just never killed anybody before.”

Carrie squeezed his hand.

“Let’s check the bike,” she said suddenly.

“Why?”

“Well, you never know,” she smiled, “it might come in handy.”

They walked over to where the motorcycle lay on the ground. The back wheel still turned slowly, and wisps of smoke still trailed up from the engine. Carrie squatted down and examined it.

“It’s not all that badly damaged,” she said. She walked around and hauled the bike upright by the handlebars.

“It’s a cop bike – a Mosquito,” she said matter-of-factly. “Wow – they’re even stealing from the cops.”

To Richard’s surprise, she climbed astride the bike, turned one of the handles, and started kicking at the starter pedal.

“I don’t see what use it can be to us,” he said. “I’ve ridden a scooter a few times, but I’m not much good on a motorbike.”

“Ah…” said Carrie, turning her face up to him with a sly smile. “But I am…” At that exact moment the bike’s engine surged to life. Richard stared slack-jawed as Carrie gunned the accelerator and took off up the road at full speed, throwing out a huge cloud of dust. He gaped at Keller, who was laughing.

“You don’t know that woman at all, do you!” he yelled.

“I guess not,” said Richard, half to himself.

Carrie came screaming back and made a sideways drift to stop within a few feet of where Richard stood, spraying his shoes with gravel.

“It’s pretty gutless,” she said, brushing back her hair, “but it runs well enough. No wonder the Cops don’t like to go to Surrey – I wouldn’t want to ride very far on this thing.”

“Let’s take it with us,” said Richard.

They hunted the area around the fallen biker and found his gun, and with some careful re-arrangement managed to pack both the bicycles and the Mosquito into the vast trunk of the Black Cherry. As they headed out Carrie turned back and took Richard’s hand, shouting above the roar of the engine,

“Remember before back at Jim’s place when I said I didn’t think Zonk was good for anything?”

Richard nodded.

“Well – I take it back,” she said, smiling.

Lacy has a Visitor

Lacy awoke with a start – and with the distinct feeling that something had disturbed her. She froze in terror for a moment imagining Frank and Jun (who, of course, couldn’t be there, because they were both dead) showing up at the place again. She listened closely and definitely heard a sound this time. She got up and searched the room for any kind of weapon. She finally found a baseball bat in the bedroom closet, and gripped it tightly in both hands as she investigated.

She tiptoed into the living room and finally identified the source of the noise. Something, or someone, was scratching at the front door. She held the bat up ready to swing and crept to the entrance. On the other side of the door there was a faint whimpering behind the scratching.

Without untying the cord securing the door she turned the handle, opened it a crack, and peered through the open slit. Standing on the stoop was a strange looking brick-shaped dog – white, with black spots. It stood with its head cocked to one side, curiously eying her.

“My God!” she gasped. “You scared the daylights out of me!”

Carefully, she cast around the yard to make sure no-one else was there. Satisfied that the dog was alone, she untied the cord, opened the door, and let him in. She knelt down and presented her hand for him to sniff, then petted the animal. He panted softly and nuzzled her face.

“You must be Zonk,” she said, stroking the dog’s head affectionately. “But what are you doing here? And where’s Mr. Hampton?”

She double-checked through the now fully opened front door, but there was no sign of Danny’s brother or anybody else. She re-attached her makeshift lock and wandered back in with Zonk in tow. Returning to the bedroom she noticed the clock. Seven o’clock – but it was light outside.
It’s seven AM!
She thought.
I slept for seventeen hours – how is that possible? I’ve got to leave right away!

Zonk was standing beside her. “What am I going to do with you,” she said, reaching down and petting his head. “I can’t stay here.”

Zonk peered up at her.

“Maybe you can come with me. Do you want to come with me?”

He nuzzled her hand.

She found some cereal and dried fruit in the kitchen, located a large plastic water bottle, and filled it, then threw everything into a canvas bag she also found.

She unbound the front door, went outside and called. The dog came immediately. She did her best to re-attach the lock. It at least looked as if it were functioning properly, even if a simple twist would render it useless. In the back yard, Serena had calmed down completely. She was contentedly munching on the grass from the tiny lawn. She whinnied softly as Lacy approached and attached the canvas bag to the back of the harness. Zonk had followed her, and stood watching.

Lacy led Serena to the front of the house, mounted her, and rode down the walk and out the front gate. She rode up the street and looked back to see if Zonk would follow. He stood by the gate. At first she thought she would have to leave him behind, but after she’d ridden about a block Zonk finally made up his mind and caught up with her. Soon he was trotting along behind the horse as Lacy rode back home.

She retraced the route she had taken to the city what seemed so long ago now, and reaching the fringes of Surrey she was back into familiar territory. Zonk loped along beside the horse all the way. Despite his ungainly appearance and reputed preference for sleep over any other kind of activity, he seemed to have no problem keeping up. Following the secret trails that she knew intimately, Lacy negotiated the Corridor with no difficulty; in a few hours she was within sight of her shack.

Against all logic she dared to hope that somehow Danny might have made it back there and would be waiting for her. Her heart raced with the prospect of seeing him again. Her attraction to him at the start had grown and transformed with their separation.

An almost physical need rushed over her, to see him, to have him hold her in his arms. With each step the horse took closer to the shack her heart seemed to beat more violently, until she was certain that he would hear.

A cloud descended around her as she rode within a few yards of her destination. Danny didn’t come out to meet her, and even before she checked she had accepted that he would not be there. She dismounted, tied Serena to a nearby tree with some feed grass nearby, and wandered dejectedly into the little shack.

Her worst fears were confirmed. Danny was not there, and there was no sign he’d returned since their departure. She fell to her knees and burst into tears. All her trials had been in vain. Danny was gone, and now once again she was alone. Her world seemed to close in around her.

She staggered to her feet and out of the shack, heading for the river. She stumbled up a crude trail that led to a secluded spot on the river bank – a tall grassy bluff that overlooked the swirling gray waters. High upon the bluff stood an old, gnarled oak tree, and beneath it, a simple wooden cross. A chill wind swept through her hair as she knelt down by the cross with her face in her hands.