The stripped, leathery corpses of two Navaho women had been lying alongside it. The scene of death had been a mystery with no explanation that made sense to Steve and Kyle. But they had managed to find some gas, and the truck had gotten them all the way down to Calico.
Now it squatted behind the tumbled remains of a store that had sold crystals. One tire was softer than soft, and the passenger door was tied on with baling wire. Much of the bodywork was a muted rust red color.
“You going cruising the valleys with the warm wind in your hair?” asked Steve Romero. “If you are, then you should dump that whining dwarf and take a real man along with you.”
Jeff threw him the finger. “And fuck you, too, brother,” he said.
“We split up.” Jim got that in, recognizing that was where things were moving. He wanted to make it appear as if it was his idea, since he was the theoretical leader of the group.
“How?” Jeff looked around. “Don’t think you’re going to get your hands on the Mercedes, just because you were captain of a crashed spaceship, Hilton. You hear me?”
Jim stood up, hand on the butt of the Ruger. “If I wanted to take the car, Thomas, then I’d take it. You wouldn’t stop me.” Catching Nanci’s cool blue gaze, he added, “Nobody would.” He hoped to God that she didn’t choose to challenge him.
She didn’t, merely smiling gently at him. “But don’t you think it might be better if I took it? I’m used to it, and it only seats two. May be better if I carry on with Jefferson here. I’ll take the easterly route, sort of scurry around, and then we can make that December fifth deadline.”
He nodded. “I’ll stick with Kyle, Steve, Carrie and the two kids in the pickup. We’ll try and go more directly north. How’s that sound?” He looked around the small group for reactions.
“Yeah,” said Jeff Thomas, who was watching Nanci Simms fixedly with the odd fascination of a rabbit in front of a cobra.
Steve Romero grinned. “Why not? I’ll go tell Sly we’re moving.”
“We’ll get away within the hour,” Jim said. “Make the most of the daylight. Tell Heather, as well, will you, Steve?”
“Sure.”
“Carrie?”
“I don’t know about this, Jim. Aren’t we stronger together?”
“In some ways. But we’ve got so much ground to cover.”
Kyle Lynch was juggling with four small rounded pebbles. He let them fall and brushed his hands clean. “I agree, Jim. But I wish one of us had thought to pick up some decent radios. Transceivers. Talk and listen. That way we could all keep in touch, even over a good distance.”
“Got a couple in the trunk,” said the older woman casually. “Maybe Steve ought to come look at them. We can agree on frequencies.”
She got up and walked slowly toward the parked sports car, Jeff tagging along on her heels like a little puppy.
Kyle Lynch whistled tunelessly between his teeth. “Not healthy the way he trails around after her. Nanci’s old enough to be his mother. Strike that. Make it grandmother. I know he has it coming, but he’s looking to get hurt.”
Carrie laughed cynically. “Ever occur to you, Kyle, that getting hurt might be just what Jeff wants? Think about it.”
“I don’t get it, Carrie.”
“I do,” said Jim Hilton. “I’ve seen them a couple of times when they didn’t know anyone was watching. Kind of sick.”
The tall black navigator leaned forward. “Come on, I’m fascinated.”
Carrie shook her head. “What they used to call playing Sadie-Maisie, Kyle.”
“How’s that?”
“Domination. That’s the name of the game. Him slave, her mistress.”
“Oh, you mean like… Surprises me that an arrogant bastard like Jeff would be subservient to anyone. ‘Specially an old woman like Nanci. Though she’s in… Oh, forget it. I really don’t think I want to think about this.”
They moved off to gather up their belongings and check out their vehicle. It didn’t take them long to get ready to leave the ghost town.
“How about Mac?” asked Carrie Princip. “Only a day past the fifteenth, Jim.”