True Fiction (Ian Ludlow Thrillers #1)(41)

Seth typed a few keys and scanned the results. “Five years ago, he bought a tank of gas with his American Express card in Cedarville, California, and then did it again three days later. He hasn’t been back since.”

On the big screen, a satellite view of Cedarville appeared. It was barely more than a rest stop on the northeastern edge of California right at the Nevada border.

“What’s in Cedarville?” Cross asked.

“The last chance for food and gas before going into the Long Valley region of northwestern Nevada,” Seth said, calling up a satellite view of that region on the media wall. It appeared to be nothing but grasslands and dry lake beds.

“And what’s out there?”

“A forgotten ghost town and hundreds of miles of wilderness,” Seth said. “It’s virtually uninhabited.”

It was more good news. Cross was beginning to see Ludlow’s strategy and it was flawed. Ludlow thought he could disappear in a desolate wasteland when all he’d really done was make himself even easier to find. As an added bonus, Cross wouldn’t have to be subtle in his eradication effort. There wouldn’t be anyone there to see it.

“Deploy the combat drone over Long Valley,” Cross said. “Make sure the missiles are live.”





CHAPTER THIRTY

Ronnie gave Ian and Margo the grand tour. He led them out of the kitchen and into a long storeroom filled with pallets and shelves of medical supplies, cleaning materials, and food. He pointed out some items as they passed through the room.

“Antibacterial soap, lime, liquid bleach, heavy-duty garbage bags, kitty litter, paper towels, Tyvek disposable coveralls, baby wipes, bottles of lye, toothpaste, respirator masks, potassium iodate tablets,” Ronnie said. “The usual.”

“Yeah,” Margo said. “Everything you’d find in my pantry.”

Ronnie gestured to the food. “Rice, beans, salt, corn, sugar, wheat, honey, chocolate, powdered milk, canned meats, canned fruits, canned vegetables, and plenty of military ready-to-eat meals. The army makes a killer beef stroganoff.”

“I’m sure they do,” Ian said. “The army is well known for its gourmet chefs.”

“Don’t be a such a snob,” Ronnie said.

Margo paused beside a pallet of boxes, one of which was open and full of movie DVDs. “What’s this?”

“I bought the entire DVD inventory of a mom-and-pop video rental place that went out of business in Encino. I also bought the fiction stock of a used bookstore in Reseda,” Ronnie said, gesturing to another pallet of boxes. “Entertainment is going to be important for maintaining sanity during the End of Days.”

“What about your air, power, and water?” Ian asked. “Where does that come from?”

“The air comes from outside and goes through a nuclear, biological, and chemical filtration system. The intake and ventilation pipes above are concealed within artificial rocks and fake brush, a little trick I learned from my days in Hollywood,” Ronnie said. “The shelter is powered by batteries stored here and fed by a camouflaged solar array hidden a quarter of a mile away. There’s also a backup generator system that runs on biodiesel fuel. The water is drawn directly from a well beneath us and underground storage tanks.”

“What’s in here?” Margo pointed to a vault door with a combination lock.

“The essentials for survival once it’s safe to go above again.” Ronnie entered the combination, spun the wheel, and opened the vault. Inside was a cache of weapons and ammunition, including sniper rifles, AK-47s, handguns, an assortment of combat and hunting knives, hand grenades, rocket-propelled grenades, and two rocket launchers.

“Holy shit,” Margo said but she wasn’t talking about the weapons. Her eyes were on something else. “Is that pirate treasure?”

Ian followed her gaze to the floor, where a dozen bulging gym bags were lined up against the wall. Two of the bags were partially unzipped, one full of gold coins, the other filled with silver ones. All that was missing was a treasure chest to put them in.

“That’s two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in precious metals,” Ronnie said. “I’ll need money when the smoke clears and it’s not like I can run to the ATM.”

“What’s wrong with cash?” Ian asked.

“After Armageddon, cash is only going to be good for starting fires or wiping your ass,” Ronnie said. “Gold and silver will endure.”

Ronnie closed the vault and led them to the next room, which had two bunk beds, some dressers, and a bookcase. “This is the bunk room, in case I have a family down the road or friends I want to spare from extermination or extinction.”

The next room was a full bathroom with a standing shower, a double sink with a granite countertop, and a toilet. Ian wasn’t interested in how the toilet and sewage system worked, though Ronnie proceeded to tell him in detail and with pride. As Ronnie was explaining how his sewage system ground waste and blew it into a septic tank, Margo drifted into the master bedroom and shrieked.

“What the fuck!” she said.

Ian joined Margo and was startled to see a woman, naked under a transparent negligee, lounging on a king-size bed, her legs spread suggestively, drawing attention to her exposed crotch and abundant pubic hair. It took an instant for Ian to realize that she wasn’t a woman at all, but an incredibly lifelike silicone sex doll. He walked over to get a better look.