She’d just witnessed a fight in the Pits. Two women, both middle aged, thrown into a muddy, deep pit. Thrown against each other in a fight for their lives.
A fight to the death, the Klan called it. But Elle couldn’t do it. She couldn’t kill her opponents. They were prisoners, just like her. Forced into a sick, twisted game used as a form of entertainment.
Sooner or later, she would end up dead, too.
Someone would kill her, out of desperation.
The night was cold. She shuddered and watched the Klan guards round the park, lighting the torches. Tomas stood near the bonfire in the center of the rows of cages, warming his hands. His tattoos and the shadows from the flames became one in the dim lighting. Elle hated the sight of him. He was a sadist — the embodiment of everything Day Zero had done to the world.
Tomas felt Elle’s gaze on him and he turned, offering a smug smile.
She buried her head in her knees, hiding her face.
There had to be a way out of this hell, she thought. There was always a way.
She peeked through the bars and looked at the cages, at the guards making their normal rounds. There was a routine here, a rhythm of operation — even if the Klan was little more than an oversized group of organized thugs.
Elle drew a square in the dirt.
That was the beginning of her map.
Aunt and Uncle’s rooms were abandoned. Everything important had been stripped and taken from the house. Elle found traces of broken glass and splintered wood in the corners of the rooms. Something had happened. Aunt and Uncle had left suddenly, but someone else had cleaned the house up after their departure.
Who?
It was dark. Elle sat in the large, rustic kitchen.
“Where would they have gone?” Georgia asked.
She sat near Pix and Flash on the countertop, biting off a piece of jerky. Jay sat next to Elle.
“I don’t know,” Elle shrugged. “The only reason they would have left would be if Omega found them. They were working with the National Guard and the militias that are fighting Omega — it was dangerous work. Anything could have happened.”
“But where would they go if they were… well, still alive?” Georgia continued. “They must have had a backup plan that you knew about, right?”
“Not really,” Elle answered. “I only lived here for a few weeks. They were just starting to help the militias when I left.”
“Well,” Jay spoke up, breaking the depressing conversation, “I guess there’s only one thing we can do: keep heading toward Sacramento.”
“It’s hundreds of miles from here,” Georgia sighed.
“It’s safe,” Pix whispered.
“Oh, I know. I’m just saying.” Georgia kicked her boots up on the counter. “It could take us weeks to get there.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Jay replied. “We’ve got to keep moving. If Omega knows where this house is, they might be watching it. It’s not safe to stay here.”
“He’s right,” Elle agreed. “We should get out of here as soon as possible.”
“Are there any old cars that we could use here?” Flash asked.
“I don’t know. We could look.” Elle jumped off the counter. “My Aunt used to keep horses in the stables behind the house, but they’re empty now. I don’t know what happened to the animals.”
She opened the kitchen door. It led to the backyard. Moonlight fell across the overgrown gardens and the dry fountain. Elle bypassed the stables and approached an old shed.
“Aunt and Uncle were smart,” Elle said. “They didn’t keep their stuff out in the open, where people could steal it.”
“They hid it in the shed?” Georgia asked. “That’s so original.”
Elle smirked.
She opened the shed door. It was a fancy building with high-beamed ceilings. It smelled like must and rust. Elle hadn’t been here for a long time. She’d only come inside once, when Uncle had shown her the shed, in case of an emergency…
She flicked the light switch for the heck of it. Nothing happened.
Elle pulled back the thick curtain over the window near the worktable, shedding moonlight inside the building.
She walked to the far corner, counting her steps.
“Help me move this—” she began, but Georgia cut her off.
“Oh, my god!”
“What?” Elle demanded.
“Look!”
Georgia pointed. Elle’s eyes adjusted to the darkness and she could see Jay climbing on something. It was a car of some sort.
“What is it?” Elle asked.
She knew a lot about the Klan and Hollywood, but she didn’t know anything about cars.
“It’s a Suzuki Samurai,” Jay beamed, patting the hood.
Georgia and Elle shared a confused glance. They got closer to the car. It was a jeep. There was no roof, just four seats. It was painted a muted tan tone.
“It’s a jeep,” Elle stated.
“It’s not just a jeep,” Jay corrected. “This, ladies and gentlemen, is an EMP-proof 1989 Suzuki Samurai.”
Realization dawned on the twins.
“It doesn’t have an electronic chip,” they said at the same time.
“Which means the EMP didn’t affect it,” Georgia added.
“And it’s been inside a big metal shed,” Pix pointed out. “Just like a Faraday cage.”
“That’s awesome,” Elle agreed. “But now if I could get someone to help me, I’ll show you something that will make you all really happy.”
“We don’t have the keys for the jeep, anyway,” Georgia sighed. “We couldn’t start it to even see if there’s gas in the tank.”
“And we have no gas,” Pix added.
“Not true,” Jay replied. “I can hotwire this thing — I don’t need keys.”
“Hey, you guys!” Elle said, crossing her arms. “Would you listen to me for two seconds? Help me move this worktable.”
Jay, Georgia and the twins each took a side of the table and pulled it forward, away from the window.
“Geez, thanks,” Elle said, rolling her eyes. “Took long enough.”
A multi-colored rug had been rolled out under the table. Elle pulled it up, revealing a hidden door. Elle tapped it with the toe of her shoe.
“Ta-da,” she said. “A secret storeroom. Emergency fuel. You’re welcome.”
Georgia whooped loudly.
“YES!” she said. “We don’t have to walk all the way to Sacramento!”
Jay laughed aloud.
“Finally,” he said. “A stroke of good luck.”
Chapter Eleven
Elle had waited a long time for this. She curled her fingers around the bars on the cage, looking around the park. It was nearly sundown. She sat back down on the floor, staring at the map she had drawn in the dirt. It had taken her weeks to create it, but she had finally constructed a decent replication of the layout of the park. Every cage, every pit, every guarded Klan hotspot.
She had tucked a knife into her boot. She’d stolen it earlier from Tomas when he had been sleeping, hung over. He had so many knives and weapons hanging off his belt.
Your loss, my gain, Elle thought bitterly.
As soon as it was dark, she would use the knife to work through the wire holding the cyclone cage closed. And then she would navigate the park, slip out of the boundaries of Klan territory… and she would be free.
She hoped she survived.
The jeep was running. Jay had hotwired the thing, and it was rumbling. It had been so long since Elle had heard the sound of an engine. Outside of Omega’s Humvees and patrol vehicles, there were no more cars.