“Too late now, isn’t it?” Lance said. “What are you going to do with those keys?”
Ben looked down at the sets in his hand. After a second, he seemed to come to some decision. “Tell Eddie Jackson I’m sorry, too.”
“What?” Lance asked, confused.
Ben touched Martina on the arm. “Come on.”
They circled around the gas station to the semi truck parked in back. The first set of keys didn’t work, but the second opened the door.
“Go around to the other side,” he told her. “I’ll open it up for you.”
By the time she got there, the passenger door was unlocked.
“Okay, so are we going to make a run for it?” she asked, smirking, as soon as she was inside.
“Not a bad idea. But I kind of think I’d rather die of a cold than a bullet.”
That wiped the smile off her face.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was trying to be funny. But…”
Shaking her head, she said, “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” She glanced at him expectantly. “So why are we here?”
Ben put the key in the ignition and turned it enough to get the electricity inside working.
“That,” he said, pointing at a device mounted in the dashboard.
“What is it?”
“CB radio. If we can get it to work, we might be able to get you in touch with your mom.”
Martina looked at him. “You…you think so?”
“That’s the hope.”
It took him a few minutes to get the hang of it, but soon he got it working.
“Hello, hello. Is anyone out there?” he said into the mic. Static. “Hello. I’m calling from Cryer’s Corner inside the quarantine zone. Can anyone hear me?”
Static again, then, “…hear you.”
Martina hit Ben’s arm excitedly.
“This is Ben. Ben Bowerman. Who’s this?”
“…ame’s Marty Zimmerman. Everyone calls me…ee.”
“Sorry, you faded out. Calls you what?”
“Zee. Everyone calls me Zee.”
“I can’t tell you how great it is to hear your voice, Zee.”
“Where’d you say you are?”
“Cryer’s Corner.”
“Kinda near Death Valley?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hell, I know where that is. Tiny speck of a place. Did you say you’re in the quarantine zone?”
“Uh, yeah. Where are you?”
“Sitting in the parking lot of a casino just east of the Cal border along I-15. Stuck here with a load of potato chips I was supposed to be taking to Barstow, while I wait to hear where I’m being rerouted. But better stuck here than inside the zone, I guess. What’re you hauling?”
“I’m…not a trucker. There’s a whole group of us stuck here at Cryer’s Corner.”
It took a few minutes to explain everything, then another as Zee made the requested call on his cell phone before Martina heard the voice she thought she would never hear again.
“Hello?” her mother said, her voice distorted by the fact it was coming out of a speakerphone on a cell that was then being transmitted over the CB.
“Mom?”
A slight delay. “Martina? Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me,” she said, her eyes welling with water.
“This connection is horrible, sweetie. Can you try calling back?”
“No, no!” Martina yelled. “We don’t have any service here. I’m on a radio.”
“You’re on a what?”
Martina loved her mom dearly, but there were some things she didn’t get right away. “Just don’t hang up, okay?”
A moment later, her dad joined in on another extension. They talked about missing her and wishing she were home. She tried to sound upbeat, and was careful not to say anything about being exposed to the virus.
“I want to know about this video you apparently put on the Internet,” her father said.
“It’s so horrible,” her mother cut in. “Please tell me it’s not true.”
“How did you know I put it up?” Martina asked, confused. Her video account name was a completely random series of numbers and letters.
“We’ve had several calls from people at PCN, including that reporter out in Barstow. They apparently learned about it from your friend Frances.”
“Did you really put that up?” her dad asked.
“Yes, Dad. I did.”
“But it’s fake, right?” her mom said. “That didn’t really happen.”
“It’s not fake, Mom.”
Her dad said something, but the static on the line covered most of it up.
“Dad, can you say that again? I couldn’t understand you.”
“…wants to talk to you, sweetie.”
“Who wants to talk to me?” she asked.
“The reporter. From PCN? She gave us her number and wants you to call. I’m not sure you should or not, though.”
Martina looked at Ben. “They want to talk to me?”
He shrugged. “It makes sense. That video must be a big thing right now.”
Over the radio, her dad said, “Sweetie, are you there?”
She moved the CB mic back to her mouth. “I’m here, Dad.”
“Do you want us to give you the number?”
“I’d talk to her, but I can’t call from here.”
Zee cut in. “I could do it for you, if you want.”
“Who’s that?” Martina’s dad asked.
“That’s Zee, Dad. He’s helping us with the radio connection.” She looked at Ben. “Should I talk to her?”
He shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Someone needs to get the word out about what happened to Paul and his friends.”
She thought for a moment, then keyed the mic again. “Dad, go ahead and give Zee the number. I’ll talk her.”
37
Matt had called the place where Ash and Chloe were going the Bluff. It turned out to be two and a half hours away from the old Palmer Psychiatric Hospital, not one.
The directions took them into the Sierra Nevada Mountains, east of Sacramento. Ash was surprised by how light the traffic was until he realized it was probably due to the outbreak down south. Though there had been no reports of cases up here, that didn’t mean the fear didn’t stretch well beyond the quarantine zone. Better to play it overly cautious and keep your family at home than to risk infection.
They left the interstate behind as they entered the mountains and proceeded up a narrower, windier road into the thickening forest. From there it was down a series of smaller roads. Ash carefully followed Matt’s
