Empire Of Salt (24 page)

Natasha remembered that the tall black man was a retired Navy officer. She didn't like the idea of being flooded within the walled town.

"Will we be safe?" Natasha asked.

"We've survived worse." Maude sipped a cup of coffee and shrugged.

"Gimme snorkels or give me death!" Frank cried from a corner.

Kristov snorted. "No shit. That's the point."

Andy Gudgel spoke for the first time in a long time. "No reason to get excited, everyone. We're more than a hundred miles inland. Even if the storm does come this far, the worst we'll get is wind and rain. No chance of a storm surge here."

Natasha nodded at the Mad Scientist's words but, by the way he glanced worriedly at the door, there was clearly something troubling him.

"What's a storm surge?" Derrick asked.

Natasha was glad he had asked because she didn't know either.

"It's when the wind and the storm get behind the waves and push them onto the land," Columbus said. "I lost a thirty-two footer in Annapolis after Big Bertha." He
tsked
and shook his head. "A storm surge can kick your ass when you're not looking."

"How long do we have?" Lu Shu asked. He'd been nursing a beer in the corner, but now he stood, frowning in concern.

"About a day," Rico said. "We'll know what happens if Puerto Peñasco gets hit. If it does, then we're next. For sure."

After a few moments, everyone started talking again, planning for the worst. They left one by one, each nodding at Maude and Auntie Lin as they went. Even Frank tipped an imaginary hat as he grabbed six beers and wobbled out the door.

Natasha glanced at where Metzger stood talking to Veronica and Derrick. She was about to join them, when she noticed her Auntie Lin and Maude staring at her. Natasha braced herself for what was about to happen.

"I expect you home tonight," Auntie Lin said. "Derrick doesn't need to be staying out so late and he'll follow you anywhere." She stared at her for another moment as if trying to decide to say something more, then said, "Plus, your father still hasn't come home. No telling where he is or what he's doing." Then she turned and began to help Maude clean the empty plastic cups off the counter.

Natasha felt a pang for the old woman who'd done everything for her, from change her diapers to help her get dressed for her graduation dance. Lin hadn't signed up to be mother and father to them; she'd started her life in America as a Nanny and now, at an age where she should be readying herself for retirement, she was cleaning someone else's restaurant.

Where was her dad?

Natasha felt a stab of anger.

She watched Auntie Lin and Maude, feeling her old sadness return. She was just feeling sorry for herself; she really should stay and help. But part of her was torn by Metzger and Veronica waiting for her outside. If only she could be in two places at once.

I
t was a funny thing. One minute Metzger was being grilled by the Deputy, the next folks were asking him about Iraq and what he'd seen. He'd seen it a thousand times since he returned: even the most diehard peace lovers and military haters couldn't help but be cordial. Their curiosity and, he hoped, respect for his survival brought them to him like moths to a flame.

Outside the restaurant, he found himself speaking with a tall older black man and a thirty-something woman, tattoos poking out the collar of her shirt. The man had introduced himself as Columbus Williams, and had spent 25 years in the Navy before retiring. The woman's name was Kim Johnson, or Reverend Kim as she liked to be called. She led a local church.

"We do appreciate your service, son," Columbus said.

"That's true for all of us. I'm not a fan of the president, but I do appreciate that there are people like you out there to protect us if need be."

"What'd you do over there?" Columbus asked. The years were carved into the dark, strong-jawed face.

Metzger glanced at the man. It might take a lifetime to answer his question. Metzger had done so much, and so little. That which he wasn't proud of he was trying hard to forget, only the forgetting was turning out to be an even harder task.

"I spent most of my time guarding convoys. I was a spotter in my vehicle."

"What's a spotter do?" Kim Johnson asked.

"Watch out for the enemy and try and get him before he gets us."

Aside from the three of them, the street was empty. Here and there a streetlight provided a nimbus of light, and starlight could be seen through breaks in the cloudy night sky. He hadn't paid too much attention when they'd driven into town last night. In fact, he hadn't paid too much attention at all until the bus driver had told them to run for it, and then the creatures had attacked.

Columbus put a hand on Metzger's shoulder. "Sorry, son. You've got better things to do than stand around and tell me war stories. Maybe I'll catch up with you later."

"Naw, it's okay." Metzger glanced back at the restaurant. Derrick and Veronica stood in the door, trying to get Natasha's attention. She wouldn't be long now.

"Ever spend time aboard a ship?" Columbus asked.

"I was on the
Mercy
." Metzger stood with his hands in his pockets. "It was a hospital ship," he added.

"What happened?" Reverend Kim asked. "Were you injured?"

Metzger shrugged. "A little. Our Hummer was hit by a roadside bomb."

"Jesus." Columbus shook his head. "We never had those in Vietnam."

Derrick and Veronica bounded towards him.

"I think I gotta go," he said.

A moment later, Natasha came out the door. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was damned cute.

She grabbed his arm and pulled him. "Sorry, we have to go."

Metzger gave Reverend Kim and Columbus an apologetic look as he was pulled down the street, almost losing his balance. He took his hands out of his pockets, and removed her grip on his arm.

"Easy," he said. "Where are we going in such a hurry?"

"Anywhere but here."

She was smiling, but looked as though she'd been crying.

"Okay then. Let's go."

They all jogged to Veronica's house. The lights were on inside. Through the window they could see Veronica's aunt and uncle sitting on the couch watching television.

Her trailer had a porch as well as a roof deck. They sat on metal chairs on the porch.

Derrick was the first to talk.

"I'm sorry, Metzger. I didn't mean to tell them."

"Don't sweat it. You had to answer them. It's not like I'm Billy the Kid or something. I'm no outlaw."

"To Hopkins you are," Veronica said.

"You're not talking about Colonel Hopkins, are you?"

"Colonel?" both Veronica and Natasha asked together.

"We didn't know he was a colonel," Natasha said, "We were told he works for some sort of ecological agency for the government."

"What does Colonel Hopkins look like?" Metzger asked.

After the three described him, Metzger nodded. "Sounds like the same fellow. He came to our clinic in Virginia on a recruiting trip."

"But what about the ecology thing?" Derrick asked.

"Probably a cover. If he went around as an Army colonel you all might be suspicious."

"People around here found him pretty suspicious anyway." Veronica frowned. "So the question is, how is he connected to those things?"

"Yeah," Natasha said. "We figured you were going there to fight the creatures."

Metzger didn't see the logic in that at all. If there was truly a threat from the creatures he'd seen, the government would have sent in Special Forces or some elite infantry unit, not a bunch of PTSDers.

"Then what's the connection between the creatures and the buses of soldiers?" Derrick asked.

Metzger shrugged. "I don't have enough information yet. We need to see one of those things up close, then maybe we can discover what they were before they became..." He gestured uncertainly.

"So all we need is a creature who will stand there while we look at it." Veronica made a face. "Simple, right?"

"Maybe it is." Natasha stood. "I think I know where one is. I saw someone, or something chained behind a house the first day we were here."

"Like someone was keeping them as a pet? Hey!" Derrick snapped his fingers. "That's what you were talking about. Why didn't you tell me what you saw?"

"It was hot and smelly. It could have been my imagination."

"It's not your imagination," Veronica said. "And who you're talking about isn't any creature, it's the Klosterman Kid."

"The who?" Metzger asked.

"Klosterman Kid. Although he's not a kid, really. He's about thirty-five. His grandparents keep him outside. He lives in a doghouse."

"What?" Metzger stood, his face expressing his incredulity.

"Serious. He has some sort of brain damage from a car crash when he was a kid. His parents were both killed and he was in a hospital for a long time until it closed down. Now the grandparents take care of him as best they can."

Metzger still couldn't believe it. "By keeping him outside?"

"They say he's violent."

"I thought he was wearing a mask and some gloves," Natasha added.

"They make him wear a baseball catcher's mask so he won't bite anyone. He wears boxing gloves so he can't pick up anything."

Metzger couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was the craziest shit he'd ever heard.

"Okay. We have
gotta
go see that."

Derrick grinned. "Yeah. Let's go."

Veronica shook her head. "We better not."

"Wait a minute. Since when are you scared of something?" Natasha asked.

"I'm not scared. It's just..." she fought to find the words. "It's just that he shouldn't be living the way he's living and everyone knows it, but no one has ever done anything about it."

"Does the Deputy know?" Metzger asked.

"Yeah."

"Then don't sweat it. I think if there was something illegal, he would have put a stop to it. Know what I mean?"

Veronica nodded. But then she added, "But it sometimes feels immoral."

Ten minutes later they were all staring at the Klosterman Kid and Metzger knew what she meant. He lived like a dog.

The backyard of the trailer was lit by a spotlight. The Klosterman Kid sat in the middle of the yard playing with a ball. His legs were splayed like a toddler's as he repeatedly bounced it against the wall of his doghouse. Sometimes it would come right back to him, others he'd have to scramble for the ball before it got farther than his leash could take him.

Metzger followed the leash from the thick leather collar to the dog house. The structure was sound and, from where he was standing, seemed to be more than a mere dog house. A vent spinning on the pitched roof kept the air circulating inside. The entire structure was about five feet high, with light emanating from somewhere inside.

He was relieved that it was less a doghouse than it was some boy's fort. Now he saw a little of the reasoning the locals used to justify the man remaining outside.