scarecrow shoulders jerking up and down in a sharp, birdlike motion as he said, “We can’t afford the kind of paranoia you get out there in civilization. Unless we’ve got reason to think you’ve been exposed, we handle our outbreaks the old-fashioned way.”
“With bullets,” added Paul, just in case we were too dumb to get the point.
“Yeah, thanks for that,” I said. Hoisting my box of trade goods, I asked, “Is this where we get down to business, or can we go inside first?”
“Sure thing,” said Nathan. “Indy’s got coffee on.” He beckoned for us to follow as he stepped into the circle of ground protected by the fence. Paul stayed where he was. They weren’t going to let us get behind them both once we were past the gate. Smart. I like people who can manage to be paranoid and smart at the same time. They’re usually the ones who make it out of any given situation still breathing.
“Any chance I could get a Coke?” I asked. Becks glared at me as we followed him past the fence. Unsurprisingly, Paul swung the gate shut behind us, leaving himself on the other side.
“I’m not comfortable leaving the van unattended,” said Becks.
“If you’re worried we’ll loot it, don’t be,” said Nathan. “If you pass the last checkpoint, we’ll give you gas and supplies and whatever else you need, and no one will touch anything you don’t trade freely. We’re civilized here. That’s probably why the Doc told you to come see us.”
I winced a little. One of our former team members, Kelly Connolly, went by “Doc” most of the time. My choice, not hers. She’s dead now, like so many others. “And if we fail the last checkpoint?” I asked.
“It’s not looting to take from the dead,” said Nathan implacably. He opened the diner door and stepped inside.
“And on that cheery note…” muttered Becks.
“At least there’s coffee.” I caught the diner door as it was in the process of swinging closed, indicating the doorway with a grandiose sweep of my free arm. “Ladies first.”
“What, assholes second?” asked Becks—but she smiled as she stepped inside, and that was what I’d been shooting for. I followed her into the surprisingly bright interior. The windows must have been tinted to make it harder to tell that people still used the place. That made a lot of sense. The infected don’t seem to recognize light as a sign of possible human habitation. The police do.
The last Denny’s in California closed years ago, when the new food service and hygiene laws were still shaking out. I was pretty sure this one had been heavily modified from the original floor plan, since I can’t imagine many “family diners” would have ammo racks or hospital beds in the middle of their dining areas. A few booths were intact, cherry-red vinyl upholstery patched with strips of duct tape. Most had been ripped out, replaced with wire convenience store shelving. About half the shelves were empty. The rest were filled with packaged snack foods, first aid supplies, and the necessities of life: toilet paper, tampons, and cheap alcohol.
The diner’s original counter was also intact. Standing behind it was a tall African-American woman with strips of bright purple fabric wound around her dreadlocks and a suspicious expression on her face. She had a pistol in either hand. I was relieved to see that they were pointing downward, rather than aimed at us. Somehow, I didn’t think she’d hesitate for a second before shooting us both.
“Indy, these are the folks that our cameras caught coming down the old post road,” said Nathan. “They say the Doc sent ’em. They need to gas up.”
“Hi,” I said. “Nice place you’ve got here.”
“Hello,” said Becks.
Indy frowned, eyes narrowing. “What’s the password?” she asked.
Becks blinked. “There isn’t one.” Then she froze, tensing. I did the same. If these people had been looking for an excuse to shoot us, our not knowing the password would probably count.
Indy was smiling. She looked a lot less menacing that way. “See, if you hadn’t been from the Doc, you would have tried to make something up. Welcome to Shantytown.”
“Is that the name of this place?” asked Becks.
“Hell, no. They’re all Shantytown. That way, no one can ever really give away a location. Nathan says you’ve come looking for fuel?”
“Snacks would be good, but gas is the primary objective,” I said. Holding up my box again, I said, “We brought contraceptives.”
“And poison oak ointment.”
Indy laughed. “Those are two things that go together more often than not out here. Come on over, kids. Let’s look at your toys, and see if we can’t come to some sort of an agreement about what they’ll buy you.”
Becks and I exchanged a relieved glance as we walked over to the counter. Indy held out her hands for the box. I briefly considered refusing to hand it over, since that would reduce our bargaining power. Stupid idea. Bargaining power wouldn’t do us any good if we didn’t get out alive. I gave her the box.
“Where you kids heading?” Indy asked, as she put the box down and began picking through its contents.
“Berkeley,” said Becks.
“Florida,” I said at the same time.
Indy glanced up, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Long-term and short-term goals, I see. The Doc put you up to this?”
“She wants mosquitoes,” I said with a shrug. “There are some people in Berkeley who may be able to help us get to Florida and back out again without getting arrested for suspected bioterrorism. I’m pretty sure the people maintaining the blockades out there won’t like the idea of us just popping in.”
“The Masons can probably help you,” agreed Indy, pulling three packs of contraceptive implants out of the box and setting them on the counter. “Don’t look so surprised. I looked you up as soon as you told my boys who you were.”
“We know what the Internet is,” contributed Nathan.
“Not all the old networks have been shut down,” said Indy, and straightened, pushing the box toward me. “The implants—we have our own injection gun—two boxes of condoms, four test kits, and some antibiotics. We’ll give you a full tank of gas, feed you lunch, and let you leave here alive. We’ll even throw in a shower, if you want one.”
“I’ll pass on the shower for now, but the rest works,” I said.
“It’s amazing that you can live out here like this,” said Becks.
“Well, honey, if you grew up before the whole world was behind walls, this can seem like the only way to live.” Indy smiled a little wistfully. Then she caught herself. Wiping her hands briskly against her jeans, she straightened. “Come on. Let’s get you fueled up.”
Paul was still standing at the gate when we emerged. He and Indy exchanged a nod, and he watched silently as I got back into the van and pulled it up to the fuel pumps. Becks went back inside while I pumped the gas, emerging a few minutes later with a brown paper sack of something that smelled spicy and delicious.
Indy followed her, watching with folded arms as I finished pumping. “You want some free advice?” she asked. “It’s worth what you’ll pay for it.”
“I’m listening,” I said, hanging the fuel pump back on its hook.
“Trust the Doc as long as you’re not between her and whatever crazy-ass thing she’s working on right now. Trust the Masons as far as you can throw them.”
“I learned that second part a long time ago,” I said, with what I hoped was a wry smile. “Thanks for your hospitality.” I wanted to ask what she knew about the Masons. I didn’t think it would be a good idea, and so I kept my mouth shut.
“Any time.” Indy turned to smile at Becks, who was staring at her like she’d just seen a ghost. “Drive safely, kids.” She walked back inside before either of us could answer.
Becks followed me back to the van in stunned silence, climbing into the passenger seat without saying a word. I waved to Paul and Nathan as I started the engine, and navigated the van carefully around the closing gate,
