Fractured State: Rogue State Part 34

"Nathan. I found your pack. They must have stuffed it in the lead vehicle," said David, stopping a few feet away from him. "Are you sure you don't have the satphone in your vest?"

"I'll check again. The last time I remember seeing it was in the Motel 6. I think I put it down to pick up the radio. I honestly can't remember what I did with it. Everything moved at light speed in the room."

"I thought maybe Keira grabbed it," David said, "but she checked all of her stuff."

Nathan nestled the gas can into the back of the SUV, while David found a place for his pack. He checked the pockets of his tactical vest again, not finding the phone.

"Dammit," he said. "I should've stuffed it in my pocket when I grabbed the radio."

"I should've been tracking it," said David. "That was the first time the phone wasn't in one of my pockets or hands since Colonel Smith gave it to me. I need to check in with my dad. They have to be worried."

"They should be halfway to Vegas by now."

"So should we," said David. "I hope this isn't the main storm."

"I don't think it is. We'd see it building on the horizon. You ever been in one of these sandstorms?"

"A few times in Afghanistan. It's pretty insane. Day turns to night. Scary enough when we were under cover on base, but out in the field? Like a nightmare."

"We left Tucson after getting hit with five in one summer," said Nathan. "Big ones, too. Air quality goes to s.h.i.+t for days."

"Let's get moving. I can tell Jose is nervous about our progress," said David, grabbing the lift gate.

He shut it, and they both walked down the driver's side to get into the SUV. When Nathan closed the rear door, he still felt the warm wind blowing through the vehicle. The permanently open, bullet-resistant windows funneled the desert air and a steady flow of sand through the car. That was the only drawback to Jose's bulletproof-car design. They couldn't close the windows, rendering the SUV's air-conditioning system effectively useless. The backseat had AC vents built into the center console, which kept them from dying of heatstroke, if accompanied by generous amounts of water. Warm water. Because everything in the car had warmed to body temperature or higher.

"Start the car and kick up that AC," said Nathan.

"Life support systems activated," said David, turning the ignition.

Owen chuckled. He'd really taken to David, which made Nathan happy. His son needed all the friends he could get right now. So did Nathan.

"Jose. How are we looking?" said Nathan, leaning forward between the seats.

Jose was busy listening to his satphone and scribbling on a notepad.

"Sorry," said Nathan, sitting back.

"One second," said Jose, saying something into the phone before putting it down. "All right. I just spoke with Vegas about the weather situation. This is one of several microbursts that have popped up between Tucson and Flagstaff ahead of the wider storm. We'll be dealing with high winds the whole way."

"What about the big storm?" said Nathan.

"It's moving fast. Getting to Kingman will be tight. We're about two hours out."

"Easy for two hours to turn into three out here," said Nathan.

"It's really a straight shot from here. We'll intersect with US Highway 93 in about thirty-five minutes. We take that all the way to Interstate 40. If we can get to 40, we're good to go. The road is regularly patrolled by the Arizona National Guard and heavily armed militia groups aligned with the state. The cartel is not welcome up there. It's kind of the unofficial cartel demarcation line in Arizona."

"And the route is clear?" asked David.

"That's the only good part about falling behind schedule. The scout teams reported no unusual cartel activity between Interstate 40 and our upcoming highway intersect point. I'm tempted to send them through again instead of waiting for us."

"It's not a bad idea," said David. "Thirty minutes gives us plenty of time to make an adjustment if they run into trouble."

"All right. I'll send them ahead and have them wait for us at Interstate 40. They have extra supplies."

"Good, because we're running low on water," said Keira, drinking from her CamelBak hose.

"A few more hours, and we'll be out of this mess," said Jose, sounding exhausted. "I know the ride sucks."

"Jose," said David, "can I borrow your phone for a second, to check in with my dad? He has to be pretty worried by now. I told him we'd call first thing in the morning. I think we left ours behind at the motel in all of the confusion."

"You want me to drive?" asked Jose, handing him the phone.

"No. I'm just gonna check in and give him a quick update," he said, pressing the numbers.

"You forgot the eight after the four," Nathan pointed out.

David paused for a moment before starting over. "I think this heat is frying my brain."

Nathan put his hand in front of the AC vent. The faintly blowing air felt warm. It wouldn't start to cool down until the car was moving.

"Dad. It's David," he said. "Everyone is fine. We ran into a little trouble, but we're on the way. How is everything on your end?"

David paused to listen.

"About two hours from Kingman. We're not going to make it to Vegas tonight. There's a ma.s.sive sandstorm moving in. I'll call you when we've settled in for the night. I gotta go."

He nodded a few times. "I really have to go, Dad. See you soon."

David ended the call and handed the phone to Jose. "We're good."

"They're all right?" said Keira.

"Sounds like it. They'll get into Vegas around midnight," said David, putting the car in gear.

The SUV in front of them rolled forward, David following closely.

"We have a nice setup in Vegas," said Jose. "Very secure."

"I thought the city was a cartel-free zone?" said Nathan.

"You won't find marauding bands of cartel soldiers shooting up the streets, but they can still flex their muscle in Sin City. It's not as safe as the primetime commercials boast, but for the average tourist? Hard to find a cheaper room with that many amenities."

"I'd like to push north, out of the Wastelands," said Keira. "Our luck has been consistently bad down here."

"Vegas is the perfect place to turn your luck around," said Jose.

"You sound like a c.r.a.ps dealer," said Keira.

"What's a c.r.a.ps dealer?" said Owen.

"Someone that sells bulls.h.i.+t," said Keira. "Sorry, buddy."

"Hon," said Nathan, shaking his head discreetly.

"Sorry," she said, taking a sip from her CamelBak. "The heat must be getting to me."

He stole a glance at her, receiving shrugged shoulders and her patented "What?" look.

"It's been one of those weeks," said Jose. "Just keep an open mind when we get to Vegas."

"I'd consider a trip to the moon to get away from this," said David, clearing the uncomfortable air.

Owen laughed again.

"I think you have a future as a stand-up comic," said Nathan.

"As long as we can clone a few hundred Owens."

"Sounds like a Twilight Zone episode," said Jose.

"I love The Twilight Zone," said Owen.

"They still show those?" said David.

"You can stream them for free."

"I didn't know that," replied David.

"My son watched all of them. He'd binge-watch them with his sister," said Jose.

"Where are they now?" said Owen.

Nathan tensed. He remembered what Jose had shared with him in Mexicali-his family had died in the 2030 Albuquerque firestorm. He guessed that Jose had been out of town on business or working in another part of the city at the time of the fire. The fire's death toll had eclipsed that of any US natural disaster to date. Half the city had burned to the ground within an hour as a ma.s.sive forest fire, fanned by hundred-mile-per-hour winds ahead of a historic New Dust Bowl storm, had swept down from the Sandia Mountains. More than a hundred thousand had died in the firestorm, and hundreds of thousands more were hospitalized with burns.

Albuquerque ceased to exist as a functional city after that. The Albuquerque fire started the great migration out of the Southwest. Within a year, several million residents of New Mexico, Arizona, and southern Colorado had fled. A year after that, the term Wastelands was coined by the media. The term was fitting. With the people gone, the Southwest wasted away.

"They're in heaven with their mom," said Jose, staring straight ahead.

"I'm sorry," said Owen.

"No. Don't be sorry, Mr. Owen. They're with their mom. That's what matters now."

Nathan looked at Keira, who wrapped an arm around Owen. That was all that ever mattered.

CHAPTER 55.

Stuart Quinn lowered the phone and muttered an obscenity. He hadn't been able to do it.

David had been pretty adamant about hanging up-but no, that was just an excuse. He just couldn't tell him about Jon.

Why have it hanging over their heads for the entire drive, though? What good could come from that?

No. More excuses.

"You made the right call," said Blake. "They need to focus on getting to Vegas in one piece."

"What do you think, Nissie?" said Stuart. "Would you want to know your father had been murdered if you had a long drive ahead of you-with more murderers trying to kill you?"

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know how many times I need to say it."

"Save your breath. You'll never convince me by saying it," said Stuart. "I need to see it."

"I don't even know what that means."

"You will," he said. "For now, it means you play nice."

"I am playing nice."

"I didn't say you weren't."

A few miles pa.s.sed on Interstate 15 before Blake broke the silence.

"Where are they now?"

"A few hours out of Kingman, but it sounds like they're racing a sandstorm."

"If they can stay ahead of it, they'll be fine," said Blake. "Kingman is safe, mostly."

"Nowhere is safe," said Stuart. "Not until we put Cerberus out of business."

A thought came to him. Major General Nichols had mentioned that his Marines could be running patrols through western Arizona by tonight. Kingman was in northwest Arizona, where David's battalion might be in a position to lend a hand. It was worth a call to the general to pa.s.s that information along. He started to dial the number.

"For what it's worth," said Nissie, "you did the right thing. I wouldn't want to know."

She looked like she might start crying behind her thick black eyeliner. There was more to Nissie Keane than met the eye. Something dark, tragic. He just hoped it would work in their favor-and not blow up in his face.

PART VI.