He banished the image, ashamed of his minor betrayal and the desire it stirred. No harm in daydreaming, he told himself. He had such fantasies often, and not just about Barbara. But hed never cheated on Jean. He planned to keep it that way.
Youre coming up on it, Barbara said.
Pete slowed nearly to a full stop by the time he made the right-hand turn. The road ahead looked as if it had gone ignored by a generation of repair crews. Only a few faint traces remained of its center line. The gray, sunbaked asphalt was cracked, crumbling, pocked with holes.
The van pitched and bounced, swerved to miss the worst of the potholes. Larry found himself hanging onto the armrest.
You want to slow down? Barbara suggested.
You want to get there, dont you?
In one piece, if thats feasible.
A bump rammed the seat against Larrys rump. His teeth clashed.
Goddamn it! Barbara snapped.
Okay, okay. Didnt see that one coming.
After he eased off the gas, the ride was still rough, but not punishing. Larry relaxed his grip on the armrest. Looking out his side window, he saw the rusted-out hulk of an overturned car. Its roof was mashed in and it had no wheels. It was well beyond the embankment bordering the road, surrounded by the deserts litter of broken rock, by cactus and scrub brush. He couldnt imagine how it had come to be belly-up. He considered mentioning the wreck, but decided to keep silent. The thing would probably inspire another story concept from Pete.
No doubt a perfectly mundane explanation for how it got there. Maybe it broke down and was abandoned by the roadside. People had come along later, pushed it out there for the hell of it, and flipped it over. Had nothing better to do. If someone wanted to salvage the tires, rolling the thing probably seemed more sensible than jacking it up one corner at a time.
Not just someone.
Larry felt a quick rush of joy.
A roving band of desert scavengers. A primitive, bloodthirsty pack.
Maybe they dont just wait for breakdowns. Maybe they block the road or booby-trap it, then ambush the unlucky travelers. They slaughter the men. They take the women back to their lair maybe an abandoned mine for fun and games.
Not bad. Worth toying around with later to see if he could make it work. He needed a new idea. And soon.
Just around the bend, Barbara said.
Larry peered out the windshield, but the view ahead was blocked by low, rocky slopes. The road curved through a gap between the desolate rises.
Maybe I can work the ghost town into the scavenger idea, he thought as they entered the narrow pass.
Thar she blows! Pete announced.
Two
Along the road leading into Sagebrush Flat were the remains of shacks that had been picked apart by the desert winds. Houses of stone, adobe, and brick had fared better, but even those looked battered, their doors hanging open or gone, their windows smashed. Here and there boards lay scattered on the ground near doorways and windows. Larry supposed that the lumber had once been used to seal the dwellings.
The weathered walls of the old houses were pocked with bullet holes, scribbled with sketches and messages in spray paint. Contributions from visitors to this dead town, making a playground of its carcass.
Many of the yards were bordered by broken-down fences. Along with cactus and brush, Larry saw pieces of old furniture in front of some houses: a sofa, a couple of cane chairs, an aluminum lawn chair with its frame twisted crooked. One house had a bathtub off to the side. Another had an overturned bathroom toilet that looked as if it had been the subject of target practice. The rusted hood of a car was leaning against a porch. Nearby lay a couple of tires, and Larry recalled the abandoned, tireless car hed seen a few minutes ago.
Isnt exactly Beverly Hills, huh? Pete remarked.
Love it, Larry said.
Gee, and we forgot our spray cans, Jean said. How can we properly deface the place without our paint?
We could shoot it up some. Pete reached beneath his seat and came up with a revolver. It was sheathed in a beltless holster. Larry recognized it as the .357 Smith & Wesson that hed fired a few times when theyd gone shooting last month. A beauty.
Put that away, Barbara said. For godsake.
Just kidding around. Dont get your balls in an uproar.
As he concealed the handgun under his seat, Barbara said, Men and their toys.
Pete swung the van off the road and stopped beside a pair of gasoline pumps. He beeped the horn a couple of times as if signaling for service.
God, Barbara muttered.
Hey, wouldnt it be something if a guy showed up?
Larry gazed past the pumps. The porch stairs led up to a country store with a screen door hanging by a single hinge. A faded wooden sign above the doorway identified the place as Holmans. A row of windows faced the road. Not a single pane was still intact. The window openings looked like mouths with sharp glass teeth.
Might as well start here, Pete said.
Great, Larry said. He thought it might be interesting to go through some of the houses theyd passed on the way in, but those could wait for another day. He was more eager to explore the downtown area.
He climbed out of the van. The wind and heat hit him. Jean grimaced when she stepped down. The wind blew her hair back, made her blouse and skirt cling to the front of her slim body as if they were wet.
Better lock up, Pete called.
Theres nobody around to steal anything, Barbara said.
Would you rather I take the magnum along?
Okay, okay, well lock the doors.
Larry took care of their side. They met Pete and Barbara in front of the van.
I would feel better if we took the gun with us, Pete said.
Well, I wouldnt.
You never know about a place like this.
If you think its dangerous, we shouldnt be here. Barbara tossed her head to clear her face of blowing blond hair. The wind parted her untucked blouse below the last button, and Larry glimpsed a triangle of tanned belly.
Might be rattlers, Pete said.
Well watch our step, Jean told him. Like Larry, she was no doubt eager to end the gun debate before it could escalate into a quarrel.
Yeah, Larry said. And if we run into any bad guys, well send you back here for the artillery.
Oh, thanks. While you guys hide.
You wouldnt mind, would you, honey?
He answered by clamping a hand on Barbaras rump. The way she flinched and jumped away, he mustve done it hard. She whirled toward him. Just watch it, huh?
Lets see whats in Holmans, Jean said, and hurried toward the stairs.
Larry went after her. Careful, he said. The boards, bleached pale, were warped and threaded with splits. The one before the top was broken in the middle, half gone and half hanging down by rusty nails.
Jean held the railing, stepped over the demolished stair and made it safely across the porch. While she dragged the screen door open, Larry climbed the stairs. They creaked under his weight but held him.
You better not try it, Pete warned Barbara, looking back at her as he trotted up the old planks. Youll snap em like matchsticks.
Give it a rest, she said.
Larry admired her restraint. It seemed so damn stupid of Pete to poke fun at his wifes size. She was big, probably a shade over six feet tall. Though not a beanpole, like many tall women, she certainly wasnt overweight. Larry had seen her in all kinds of attire, including swimsuits and nightgowns, and considered her body terrific. He knew that Pete was proud of her appearance. Pete was compact and powerful, but lifting all the weights in the world wouldnt give him the six inches of height he would need to meet Barbara eye to eye.
Instead of calling him short stuff or pip-squeak, shed simply told him to give it a break. Admirable.
She climbed the stairs without bursting any of them.