Stranger

Thirty-one

“Quick,” Michaela shouted as she stopped the bike outside the garage door. “Grab your things and jump on; we?re moving out.”

“Whoa, just a minute,” I said holding up my hand. “There’s something in the woods across there that’s worth taking a look at first.”

“We’re short of time, Greg. Zak saw some hornets three miles from our place. They’re heading our way.”

“Trust me, Michaela. This is worth seeing.”

“Maybe. But we don’t have time. Just grab your stuff and climb on.”

“Hell, no,” I said. “You’ve got to see this. This might be the most important find of the year.”

Michaela sat astride the Harley revving the motor so it surged in throaty barks. She seemed in no mood to wait for me to tell her about my walk in the woods, or what I’d found. Or that I finally got back to Maison Valdiva at two in the morning by moonlight. Christ, I was bursting to tell her about my amazing find. I’d pictured her look of amazement, even admiration, as I told her. But no. She was shaking her head, talking about getting out of the area as fast as we could. Some-thing like a dirt devil came roaring up the road. It turned out to be Ben on a dirt bike and Zak on the big Harley. His hat swirled behind him by the strap in the slipstream.

“What’s the holdup?” Zak called. His bald head gleamed like a steel ball in the morning sunlight. “There’s around a thousand hornets back there.”

Michaela looked back. “I’m trying to get Greg moving, but he doesn’t want to leave.”

“Christ, Greg.” Ben sounded shocked. “You should see the bad guys in the valley. There’s a whole army of them.”

I began, “Ben, you’re not going to believe what-”

“Hurry up, man. They’re going to tear us apart if we don’t move out now.”

Zak said, “I don’t want to do it, Greg, but we’ll leave you here if you don’t come now.”

“Wait!” I felt anger flush through me. “Wait thirty seconds while I tell you this.”

“And that thirty seconds could cost us our lives.” Ben looked scared. “Come on, Greg, don’t piss us off.”

“Jesus. I’m trying to tell you about something that might save our necks.” I glared at them. “Look… how far away from here is the place you’re staying? Five miles? Six miles?”

“About that.”

“Then bring everyone here,” I told them. “If the hornets move this way it will take hours for them to get here.”

Michaela suddenly appeared to take what I’d said seriously. “Just what have you found in there?” She nodded at the forest.

“To be honest I’m not exactly sure. But I’ve got a feeling it might be-”

“Oh, you schmuck, Valdiva.” Zak slapped his forehead. “Why’re you wasting our time with this?”

Michaela flashed Zak a shut-up look. “Give him a chance to explain, Zak.”

“We don’t have time for explanations.”

“OK,” I said, “It’ll be quicker to show you.” I slung the rifle over my shoulder. “Michaela, slip back onto the pillion.”

“Greg.” She sounded reluctant. “We really don’t have time.”

Zak folded his arms. “And I’m not going on wild-goose chases.”

“Neither am I.” Ben could hardly keep his hands still. They fluttered like edgy doves on the handlebars of the dirt bike. “We don’t stand a chance if the hornets catch us.”

“Then don’t let them catch you.” My patience had all but burned dry. “Listen. You’ve got to bring everyone along this road anyway, otherwise you’ll run slap into the arms of the hornets, right?”

Michaela nodded.

“So go back to the gas station and bring them up here.” I shrugged. “One, you don’t lose any time moving people out. Two, Michaela and I will be back by then.”

“OK, OK.” Michaela gave in. “If Greg says it’s so important it’s worth checking out.”

Zak grumbled, “Sounds like a waste of time to me, but what the hell do I know?” He took a deep breath. “OK. I’ll go back and bring the others here. We can do it in one trip anyway; we found a truck yesterday that’s still in running order.” Opening the throttle, he swung the rear wheel around in a blur of dust. “We’ll be here in under an hour.” He shot Michaela a significant look. “I’ll wait here. But if those hornets arrive we move on without you. OK?”

“OK.” As Michaela nodded she slid back onto the pillion, allowing me to climb onto the seat. I felt her hand slide ’round my waist to hold on. The palm of her hand felt warm through my shirt.

Ben’s expression had changed now that I seemed to have resolved the immediate problem. “Greg,” he called over the clatter of Zak’s Harley as the man roared away, “just what have you found in the woods that’s so interesting?”

“Why don’t you come along and see for yourself?”

“You’re on.” He shot me a grin. “But only because you’ve made such a damn mystery of it.”

What had taken a couple of hours on foot in the dark took just minutes on the bikes in broad daylight. The night before, after grabbing a closer look at the house and that neatly trimmed lawn that just couldn’t… or shouldn’t exist… in this ruined country of ours, I’d followed a road as it wove through the wood away from the house. Hell, it got dark. A darkness that you could carve with a knife. But I stuck to the blacktop. Eventually the road connected with a highway that I’d recognized from a walk earlier that day. Well, I recognized the burned-out school bus at the junction anyway, with a skull embedded in the melted windshield. After that it was a straightforward enough walk back to the garage I called home.

Now I rode down the center of the road with Michaela holding on to me, her long hair blowing out, all fluttering black like raven’s feathers. Ben rode just a little behind, shooting anxious glances into the forest. Maybe he sensed something sinister in there, too.

Barely ten minutes after leaving the garage I pulled up at the entry to what I’d first taken to be a house.

Ben stopped alongside me. He shook his head at the trimmed lawn. “My God, will you look at that,” he said. “Who the hell’s cutting the grass out here?”

“Wow,” Michaela said in something close to awe.

“Now that’s what I call gold medal standard gardening.”

“Take a closer look. It’s not what it seems.” I nodded at the brilliant green lawn. “It’s synthetic. Probably astro turf.”

Michaela looked at the neat collection of white painted buildings. “So that’s no ordinary house?”

“Got it in one. Hold on.” I opened the throttle to take the bike skimming through the gates onto the driveway. Seconds later I stopped outside the front door. “See?” I said. “It’s all as phony as the grass. The windows aren’t real. They’re painted onto the walls. Even the door’s painted.”

“Jeez!” Ben looked incredulous. “It looks like a movie set.”

Michaela spoke. “Not a movie set. Look… solid con-crete.

“You got the Cold War to thank for that little beauty,” I told them, switching off the motor. “That and a multibillion-dollar defense budget.”

Michaela slipped off the bike to stand there gazing up at the imposing face of the fake house. “It’s a nuclear bunker, isn’t it?”

“A grade-A pedigree one at that,” Ben said. He climbed off the bike to walk quickly to it, where he ran his hands fluttering over the painted door. “Heck. They’ve even painted the handle in gold paint.” With a sudden playful grin he rapped on the make-believe door. “Knock, knock, anybody home?”

For a second we paused. Maybe even waiting for an answer to come from within that blast-proof building. But there was only silence. And if silence can be amplified, that silence was great enough to make your ear-drums tingle.

“Well, gentlemen.” Michaela touched the wall. “I guess there’s no one home.”

“There must be some other way in.” Ben began walking along the path that run around the building, his eyes scanning the walls for some hidden entrance.

“These people certainly went to a lot of trouble to make this place look like a house. There’s even a swimming pool. Or what looks like a swimming pool, but it’s just a layer of blue tiles with sheets of glass over the top of it for water.”

Michaela ran her fingers over the window with its painted blue drapes. “From a spy satellite, or if you saw this from a distance, it’s good enough to fool anyone. Look, they’ve even painted a cat in the upstairs window.”

“Now you know why I wanted to show you this. If we can find an entrance…”

“There should be supplies inside. Food, gasoline.”

“There’s probably enough canned and dried food in there to keep us alive and well for- ufff…”

“Greg.” She looked at me in alarm. “What’s the matter?”

I rubbed my stomach. “Get back on the bike, Michaela.”

“You’re getting that thing again, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” I shot her a grim look. “My God-almighty Twitch. I think the boys are back in the neighborhood.”

As Michaela eased the pump-action shotgun from its holster strapped to the side of the bike, I slipped the rifle from my shoulder and looked ’round. The Twitch came again. Like a pair of tiny fists gripping chords of stomach muscle, then twisting.

“Ben?” I didn’t shout his name; I spoke it softly. “Ben. You there, buddy?”

At that moment he rounded the corner. “Hey, Greg. I couldn’t find an entrance, but I think-” He stopped when he saw me with the rifle. The look that flashed across his face told me he thought I’d got the Twitch when I saw him. “Greg… Greg, I’m all right. Believe me, I’m clean.”

“Ben, I know. Just get back on the bike.”

“But you’ve got the Twitch.”

“Got it sharp, too. Hornets must be close by.”

“Dear God…”

“Don’t start the engine yet.”

“Shit, Greg. We need to get outta here.”

“Believe me, old buddy, we’re going. Like greased lightning.” I slipped onto the seat of the Harley while Ben climbed astride the dirt bike with its big front wheel and tires as knobby as an alligator’s back. “Start the engine on the count of three. OK?” Michaela tightened her grip ’round my waist.

“OK.”

“One-”

“Here they come,” Michaela whispered. “See them?”

“Yup.” I glanced at Ben. “They’re still in the woods but right behind you.”

Color fled Ben’s face. It bleached white as milk.

“Ben. Concentrate, buddy. One, two, three. Now!”

I thumbed the START button. First time; the Harley’s engine purred like a big cat. Ben put his foot on the kick start, then bore down on it. I heard nothing, but the expression on Ben’s face said it all.

No go.