“They killed Frank Stoner,” Joanna added.
“Who?” Harvey demanded. “What did they look like? Can we track the bastards?”
“Tell you later,” Mark said. “First we get packed up and moving.”
“You’ll tell me now.”
“No.”
Joanna had rested the shotgun against the table. Harvey picked it up, calmly, and checked the loads. He pulled one outside hammer back. His firearms training was excellent: He didn’t point it at anyone. “I want to know,” Harvey Randall said.
“They were bikers,” Joanna said quickly. “Half a dozen of them riding escort with a big blue van. We saw them turn out of Fox Lane.”
“Those bastards,” Harvey said. “I know where they live. Short side street, half a mile from here. The street’s half a block long. They repainted the sign to read ‘Snow Mountain.’ ” He stood.
“They won’t be there now,” Mark said. “They went north, toward Mulholland.”
“Frank and Mark and I,” Joanna said. “We had our bikes.”
“They were coming out of your street,” Mark said. “I wanted to know what was happening in there. I stopped and held up my hand, you know, the way bikers stop each other for a friendly talk. And one of the sons of bitches blasted at me with a shotgun!”
“And they missed Mark and hit Frank,” Joanna said. “Frank went right over the edge. If the shotgun didn’t kill him, the fall did. The bikers kept on going. We didn’t know what to do, so we came here as fast as we could.”
“Jesus,” Harvey said. “I got here half an hour before you. They were here, somewhere. Right near here, while I was… while…”
“Yeah,” Joanna said. “We’ll know them if we see them again. Big bikes. Chopped, but not much. And murals on the van. We’ll know them.”
“Never saw that gang before,” Mark added. “No way we can catch up with them just now. Harv, we can’t stay here. The L.A. basin’s flooded, everybody down there is dead from the tsunami, but there must be a million people in the hills around here, and there sure ain’t enough for a million people to eat. There’s got to be a better place to go.”
“Frank wanted to head for the Mojave,” Joanna said. “But Mark thought we ought to look in on you…”
Harvey said nothing. He put the shotgun down and stared at the wall. They were right. He couldn’t catch the bike crew, not now, and he was very tired.
“They leave anything at all?” Mark demanded.
Harvey didn’t answer.
“We’ll do a search anyway,” Mark said. “Jo, you take the house. I’ll go the rounds outside, garage, everything. Only, we can’t leave the TravelAII by itself. Come on, Harv.” He took Harvey’s arm and pulled him to his feet. Mark was surprisingly strong. Harvey made no resistance. Mark led him to the TravelAII and put him in the passenger seat. He put the Olympic target pistol in Harvey’s lap. Then he locked all the doors, leaving Harvey sitting inside, still staring at the rain.
“He going to be all right?” Joanna asked.
“Don’t know. But he’s ours,” Mark said. “Come on, let’s see what we can find.”
Mark found Harvey’s Chlorox bottles of water in the garage. There were other things. Sleeping bags, wet, but serviceable; evidently the bikers had their own and didn’t bother. Stupid, Mark thought. Harv’s Army Arctic was better than any the bikers would have.
After awhile he brought his salvage to the TravelAII and opened the back. Then he got the small dirt bikes he and Joanna had ridden and brought them around. He started to ask Harvey to help, but instead found a heavy two-by-eight and used it as a ramp. With Joanna’s help he wrestled one of the bikes into the back, and piled stuff in on top of it.
“Harv, where’s Andy?” Mark said finally.
“Safe. Up in the mountains. With Gordie Vance… Marie!” Harvey shouted. He jumped out of the car and ran toward Gordie’s house. Then he stopped. The front door was open. Harvey stood there, afraid to go in. What if… what if they’d been in Gordie’s place while Harvey was mooning over Loretta? Jesus, what a goddam useless bastard I am…
Mark went into the Vance house. He came out a few minutes later. “Looted. But nobody home. No blood. Nothing.” He went to the garage and tried to open the door. It came open easily; the lock was broken. When it swung up, the garage was empty. “Harv, what kind of car did your buddy have?”
“Caddy,” Harvey said.
“Then she left, ’cause there’s no car here and no Caddy with the bikers. You get back and watch the TravelAll. There’s more of your stuff we’ll need. Or come help carry.”
“In a minute.” Harvey went back to the car and stood, thinking. Where would Marie Vance go? She was his responsibility; Gordie was taking care of Harvey’s boy, Gordie’s wife would be Harvey’s lookout. Only Harvey didn’t have a clue as to where Marie might be—
Yes he did. Los Angeles Country Club. Governor’s fundraising thingy. Crippled children. Marie was on the board. She’d have been there for Hammerfall.
And if she hadn’t got back here by now, she wasn’t coming back. Marie wasn’t Harvey’s responsibility anymore.
Mark came out of the house, and Harvey was finally startled. Mark was carrying something… OhmyGod. Carrying five thousand dollars’ worth of Steuben crystal whale, Loretta’s wedding present from her family. A couple of years ago Loretta had thrown Mark out of the house for picking it up.
Mark got the whale to the van without dropping it. He wrapped it in sheets and pillowcases and spare blankets.
“What’s all that for?” Harvey asked. He pointed to the whale, and the skin cream, and Kleenex, and the remains of Loretta’s survival kit. And other things.
“Trade goods,” Mark said. “Your paintings. Some luxury items. If we find something better, we dump the lot, but we might as well be carrying something. Jesus, Harv, I’m glad your head’s working again. We’re about loaded up. Want to get in, or do you want to take another look through the house?”
“I can’t go back in there—”
“Right. Okay.” He raised his voice. “Jo, let’s move it.”
“Right.” She appeared from out of a hedge, soaking wet, still holding the shotgun.
“You up to driving, Harv?” Mark demanded. “It’s a big car for Joanna to handle.”
“I can drive.”
“Fine. I’ll be outrider with the bike. Give me the pistol, and Jo keeps the shotgun. One thing, Harv. Where are we going?”
“I don’t know,” Harvey said. “North. I’ll think of something once we get started.”
“Right.”
The motorcycle could hardly be heard over the roar of the thunder. They drove out, north toward Mulholland, along the same route the bikers had taken, and Harvey kept hoping…
It rained. Dan Forrester saw his path in split-second flashes when the frenetic wipers disturbed the flood of water across his windshield. The rain ate the light of his headlamps before the light could reach the road. Continuous lightning gave more light, but the rain scattered it into flashing white murk.
Rivers ran across the twisting mountain road. The car plowed through them.
In the valleys it must be… well, he would learn soon enough. There were preparations he must make first.
Charlie Sharps would know sooner.
Dan worried for Charlie. Charlie’s chances weren’t poor, but he should not have been traveling with that loaded station wagon. It was too obviously worth stealing. But Masterson might have packed guns, too.
Even if they reached the ranch, would Senator Jellison let them in? Ranch country, high above the floods. If they accepted everyone who came, their food would be gone in a day, their livestock the next. They might let Charlie Sharps in, alone. They probably would not require the services of Dan Forrester, Ph.D., ax-astrophysicist. Who would?
Dan was surprised to find that he’d driven home. He zapped the garage door and it opened. Huh! He still had electricity. That wouldn’t last. He left the door open. Inside, he turned on some lights, then set out a great many candles. He lit two.