4.
 Her eyes had already told her what to expect. Southern California was a semi-arid waste of brush and abandoned slabs. The wood and plaster houses were long gone, ravaged by fire and rain. The plastic plumbing had crumbled in the fierce sun, and copper, brass, nickel, that sort of stuff was valued for casting guns and knives. What was left? Glass — melted in fires, crumbled underfoot, finally blowing away like the sand from which it had been made. The roads? Crumbling apart under the onslaught of grass and trees. The earth hove itself up, Taxi figured. Grass grew and died and turned into soil. From that soil, more grass grew and died. In some places, towns and roads were already a foot deep under new soil. Lots of valuable shit still buried in that soil, but you had to know how and where to look. They’d stayed with Sam’s brother in a fortified village in the Santa Barbara foothills, until more than one traveler had come by with tales of cars left in the Mexican desert, cars like new, you could just pop one of the new helium tube atomic drives in like in the old days people screwing in a lightbulb, and off you went.
“Honey, look over there,” Sam said. He handed her the glasses.
She looked in the direction in which he pointed. “Wow. A long fence all around. Must be a mile on each side. ‘S government, you think?” This sight was so unusual that it sent shivers up and down her spine. She’d heard about government installations, but had never seen one, never known anyone who had. Figured it was all talk. There hadn’t been a real government for the whole country in over 50 years. So what could the purpose of a place like this be? More likely some warlord’s headquarters. She noted the second line of fence perimeter a hundred meters inside the first. Automatically, she scanned for ravenous dogs in the run between the two fences.
“Well kept place,” Sam said. “Must be people down there. Old government people maybe. And check out those houses.”
Her gaze swept across the property that sprawled below. She saw a complex of same-color buildings, some kind of off-white that didn’t want to call attention to itself. “That’s so weird,” she said. Then she spotted a small cluster of cars in a central parking area. “Hey, what about that? Them things look to you like they run?”
“I was kinda wondering that.” Sam lifted his hat and scratched the thin, mousy hair atop his head. The hair reached down to his shoulders, where she trimmed it for him. He wasn’t a great looker, but he had a solid way.
Taxi felt excited. “Just suppose we could lift a helium tube from one of those babies, huh? Let’s say it’s half good. Those cars look a bit matte, but they got their windows all in one piece. I’ll bet they been sitting out there for 60 years just gathering dust. Waiting for us to break down.”
“Yeah right, and so why’s nobody broken in there before us?”
“Not smart enough, Sam.”
“Yeah right.”
“Not fast enough.” She patted her solid thighs, which were like a puma’s.
He looked dubiously into the run between the fences. “They must have something that patrols up and down in there. What you don’t see is more scary than what you do see.”
She peered through the glasses. They were weak and scratched, and objects in the distance did not resolve properly. The distant vistas looked alternately light brown and dark green. “I’d say they got trees out there and some kinda fields. Maybe they’s planting something that keeps them going. Corn, peas, things that don’t bite back when you chew into them.”
Suddenly she saw something. No, somethings. Sam started to say something but she put her hand on his arm and shooshed him. “There’s people out there. They got, looks like, hoes, shovels. They’re coming in from the fields.”
|
Thank you for reading. If you love it, tell your friends. Please post a favorable review at Amazon, Good Reads, and other online resources. If you want to thank the author, you may also buy a copy for the low price of a cup of coffee. It's called Read-a-Latte: similar (or lower) price as a latte at your favorite coffeeshop, but the book lasts forever while the beverage is quickly gone. Thank you (JTC).
|
TOP
|
MAIN
Copyright © 2018 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.
|
