Year One (Chronicles of The One #1)(47)

“Hey, no sweat there. You did what you had to do, and it was real. Jeez, way real. Anyway, I’m glad you’re here. I like the quiet, but even for me, it’s been too dead around here. Pun sort of intended.”

“We’ve got to get out, Chuck. I mean away from here. They’re too close. What’s in the tunnels.”

“You came through the PATH tunnel?” For a moment he had to stop, to gape at them. “Jesus, you’ve got steel, both of you. I don’t think I could’ve handled it.”

“I’m not sure I would’ve if I’d known, but I know we can’t stay.”

“Figured it. Been working on a get-out-of-Dodge plan for a while. Few more things to tie up. Probably by tomorrow afternoon. You look like you need some sleep. This is us.”

He stopped at a corner building, four stories, brick. Old and distinguished.

“We’ve got the basement.”

“I just knew you’d live in the basement. Anyone else still here?”

Chuck shook his head as he pulled out keys, opened a series of locks. Then stepped inside a hallway, keyed a code into a wall panel.

“Everybody is dead or fled. It’s my uncle’s place—one of his properties. He’s got a big-ass house on Long Island. Or did. He died the end of week one.”

“I’m sorry.” Fred rubbed Chuck’s arm.

“Hell of a guy. Lights,” he called and they flashed on. “I like my toys.”

“I’ll say.”

Arlys stared. The enormous and well-finished space resembled some sort of high-tech HQ. Computers, monitors, stations, some sort of communication system. Some counters and swivel chairs, the biggest wall screen she’d ever seen, and a leather recliner.

One corner held a kitchen—stainless-steel appliances, cluttered counters.

“Bedroom’s through there—haven’t been using it much. You guys can take that. Bathroom’s attached, but I’ve got another one over there.”

Fred wandered, head clocking back and forth, eyes more than a little dazzled. “You must be really rich.”

“Well, my uncle was. Who’s rich these days? I guess you are if you’ve got supplies and a roof over your head. So we’re rolling in it. You want eats?”

“No, not me.” Arlys pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes.

“Want a beer, and to talk about it?”

“Not now. I don’t think I can now. If I could get some sleep first.”

He gestured toward the bedroom.

Arlys walked toward it, turned around. “Thank you, Chuck.”

“Hey, there’s no buds like cyber buds. Go crash, and we’ll talk on the flip side.”

Fred watched her go. “She needs sleep and some quiet.” Then she smiled at Chuck. “I wouldn’t mind a beer.”

“Sure thing.”

“And I can tell you some of it. I can tell you so she doesn’t have to. Unless she wants.”

“Got my napping couch over there. Have a seat. I’ve got some chips and salsa to go with the beer.”

Fred dumped her pack, her coat, sat down on the big leather couch, sighed. “She really likes you, and trusts you. I can see why. Um, do you maybe have some ice? There were men in the tunnel, and they tried to … One of them punched me.”

Chuck gave her a long, quiet look as she cupped her bruised jaw. “A lot of people suck, that’s why I like the quiet.”

“A lot more don’t.”

“Maybe. I’ll set you up, Red Fred. Ice, beer, chips, and salsa.”

“Is it really spicy salsa?”

“Set your mouth on fire.”

“That’s my favorite kind.”





CHAPTER TEN

With Max at the wheel, they crossed the Susquehanna. The tire chains bit through the snow—an inch, then two—as they pushed west.

He picked up the 414, kept to the rural areas, passing a scatter of homes and little farms as the hills rolled and forests thickened. A few times, with Eddie asleep in the back, he worked with Lana to ease an abandoned or wrecked car onto the shoulder of the winding two-lane road.

“Maybe we should find a place to stop. You’ve been driving more than three hours, and the roads are getting worse.”

“We’ve barely hit a hundred miles today. I want more before we break.”

In the back, Eddie stirred, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. “Ain’t letting up, is it? Storm’s coming in from the west, looks like, so we’re heading into worse. Want me to take the wheel for a spell?”

“Not yet.”

He made it another twenty miles before he had to stop for a three-car pileup.

“Well.” Eddie scratched his beard. “Looks like we’ve got some work to do. Lana, you mind taking Joe to do some business while me and Max see about pushing this mess out of the way?”

A warning look from Max told her he wasn’t ready to share what they could do with their new companion.

She took the dog, trudged through the snow to a stand of trees.

Max and Eddie walked toward the wrecked cars.

Behind the wheel of the hatchback, the body of a man slumped.

“That’s a bullet hole in the windshield there, and in him, too, I guess.” Though he’d gone a little pale, Eddie moved closer. “I don’t know much, but I know this dude hasn’t been dead long. I mean not like a couple of days.”