But they were only a mile and a half toward Barstow when the pickup came to a silent, gentle halt. Everyone got out, their feet scuffing on the sunbaked, oily pavement.
They’d tried to analyze the fault and get her going again. Nearly two hours later they were still there, still trying.
“Cleaned the plugs,” said Kyle. “It’s not that.”
“And we put in more oil,” Jim added. “Not the hoses, either.”
“Should send for the doctor.” Sly had made the joke within a minute or so of the breakdown and had been rewarded with a round of laughter. Encouraged, he’d been making the same joke every quarter of an hour, downcast that nobody seemed to think it was funny anymore.
Jim walked to the center of the freeway, standing there and staring blankly out across the sunlit, shadowed landscape. A large bird was circling far above his head, way too high for him to identify it.
Apart from that, there was nothing moving. Heat haze shimmered over the desert.
Kyle, Carrie and Steve drifted across to join him, none of them wanting to break the silence.
Finally it was Carrie who spoke. “Now what do we do?”
Steve Romero scratched his neck where an insect bite flared crimson. Behind them his son was sitting in the minimal shade at the side of the broken-down truck. Heather Hilton was flicking stones, underarm, at a sign that told them that Barstow was four miles west.
“Maybe there’s a mechanic in town,” Jim said.
Kyle flicked sweat from his forehead. “That’s a long shot. How come none of us know enough about the internal-combustion engine to figure out what’s wrong here? Astronavigation and quantum physics we can do with our eyes shut. Truth is, we’re not ready for this new world.”
Carrie laughed. “We’re the intellectual elite of our generation, gentlemen. But any redneck with the intelligence quotient of a fence post would be doing better than us.”
“I’ll phone in to the AAA,” said Jim. “No. No, that’s pointless. Think that my membership’s lapsed a good while back.”
“Seriously, Skipper,” said Steve.
“Yeah, it’s serious. Of course it is. Never mind the plans about Aurora and Muir Woods in three weeks’ time. We need to worry about hiking in to Barstow. It’ll take us a good two hours, with what we’ll need to carry with us. And I don’t figure they’ll greet us with open arms.”
“You came in that way to Calico.”
“Right, Kyle. But by then we were on foot and we circled around any towns. Kept seeing the word ‘outlanders’ for strangers and signs that sort of whispered that we wouldn’t live too long if we tried to pay a courtesy call on the good folks.”
There was a sudden loud crackling from behind them. Heather had gotten bored and taken out the radio that Nanci had given them.
Sly clapped his hands. “Use the wonky-tonky!” he shouted excitedly.
“Don’t play with that,” called Jim. “It’s not a toy.”
“Can’t I try and pick up someone on it, Dad? I know how to use one of these.”
“All right, but be careful with it.”
Steve Romero laughed. “Got more chance of snow in Death Valley, Heather. I’ve swept all the wavelengths, and there’s plenty of nothing.”
The girl turned the main control dial, producing different levels of background static. Then came a fragment of a human voice, and then more static.
“Go back!” shouted Jim, running over to his daughter and reaching for the set. “Back a little way on that control. Gently.”
“Chill out, Dad. I’ve got it. I think…just about here…”
“Hallelujah, brothers! I’m here to bring repentance to the sinner and salvation to the faint of heart and pure of spirit.”
Steve punched his right fist hard into his left hand. “I know that voice.”
“Who?” said Carrie. “Not the same guy we heard when we were coming down in the Aquila?”
“Yeah. Jeremiah was his handle.”
The voice was loud and clear, booming out of the little plastic Kayawa set. Heather winced and turned down the volume.
“I’m speaking here from the mental village under a murderous sky. I’m sometimes known as the daring sleeper, but others, praise their names, call me the imp of the perverse. You may call me ‘René’, if there’s anyone out there listening to the bard from Barstow. Over and over and O…U…T spelling ‘Out.’ Y’all come see Jeremiah, voice in the wilderness and friend to the coyote. Come in.”