Бентли Литтл - The Disappearance

Or kill her?

He refused to let his mind go there, but the worry nibbled around the edges of his consciousness.

As the freeway passed through the sleepy suburban communities of the San Fernando Valley, Gary grew ever more anxious. Reyn had recognized the smell of the smoke, but was that really enough to go on? Was that lead concrete enough that they should spend the next several hours in the car after Joan had been abducted yet again and Brian had been murdered? What if they were wasting their time on a wild-goose chase?

“I know it’s where they took her,” Reyn said, and though he was probably just trying to convince himself, his words had the effect of calming Gary. Despite the seemingly illogical logistics, he thought the same thing. Father’s people had taken Joan out to the preserve.

They had traveled this road before, and as the city faded into desert and they passed by the jagged, angular rocks where Reyn had told them episodes of Star Trek were filmed, Gary was overwhelmed by memories. He remembered Brian and Reyn arguing behind the raised hood of this car while waiting for AAA after the water pump broke, remembered all of them getting out their frustrations by yelling obscenities into the desert night.

“Fuck!… Cunt!… Asshole!… Dick!… ” The sadness he felt threatened to sap whatever energy he had left, and once again he thought that Joan was probably dead.

Her fate wasn’t a certainty, though, and the image of her face installed a renewed vigor in his determination to confront Father. Even if she was dead, Gary was going to make sure that that bastard paid for it and that he could never harm anyone else ever again. Gary still had his tire iron, and Reyn had one in the trunk that he could use, along with a hammer and an assortment of screwdrivers. Stacy had also found a wicked-looking corkscrew in the glove compartment. Not the greatest weapons in the world, but at least they were armed.

Somewhere in the middle of the desert, they turned off on another road, a two-lane highway that ran along the foothills of a mountain range that could be sensed more than seen in the darkness. Theirs was the only vehicle traveling in either direction, and while the lights of a few far-flung buildings were visible when they first exited the freeway, those quickly disappeared and they drove through a landscape that was black and featureless, able to see only the small section of blacktop illuminated by the Focus’s headlights.

They had stopped speaking quite a ways back and drove for the next hour in silence.

There were no green road signs telling them how far away the preserve was located, and only the eerie glowing screen of Reyn’s phone on the seat next to him told them that they were on the right track. Indeed, even when they reached the turnoff to the preserve, it was only a dark wooden sign planted parallel to the road that indicated they were there, and if Reyn had not remembered it and been looking for it, they probably would have driven right past without noticing.

This road was dirt. And narrow. The desert had given way to foothills, and the single-lane trail wound through what appeared in the gloom to be a lot of scrawny trees and dry brush. They passed a turnoff that led to a low, dark building where a single lightbulb illuminated a bare side wall and slab of concrete.

“Nature center,” Reyn said.

He followed the curving dirt road away from the building, and several miles later it began winding through a forest of stunted pine trees. They went up a small hill before dipping into a rocky canyon carved into the mountains beyond. The car slowed as they approached the towering black cliffs.

“Almost there,” Reyn said grimly, and added, “I think.”

He was right.

Rounding a curve, Reyn suddenly had to slam on the brakes. If they’d been going even five miles an hour faster, they would have had an accident

Jesus Christ , Gary thought as he took his hands from the dashboard and peered through the windshield. How many of them are there?

The road ahead was blocked by cars, Jeeps and pickups with license plates from various states, more than a dozen of them, parked and double-parked in no particular order, the vehicles protruding into the road at assorted angles, making further progress impossible.

Reyn quickly shut off the headlights.

They waited for a moment, expecting Homesteaders to come at them, expecting to be attacked, expecting at the very least to see someone running away to warn Father that they were here. But the vehicles were all empty; no one had noticed their arrival. The three of them looked at each other, their faces barely lit by the dim illumination of the dashboard lights. It was impossible to read what his friends were thinking, so Gary just blurted out, “I’m going to get Joan.” He opened his door.

“You don’t even know where she is,” Reyn said.

“Up this road, I assume. That’s where that ranch is, isn’t it?”

“I’m coming with you.”

Gary shook his head, motioned toward the parked cars. “There are a lot of people here. If one person can’t sneak her out—”

“Maybe two or three people can,” Stacy interrupted.

“No. Listen,” Gary said. “I’m going to find her, see what I can do. If it’s not possible, I’ll come back and the three of us’ll figure something out. But right now, I want you to get this car turned around and ready to go in case I do bring her back and do as much damage as you can to those other cars so they can’t come after us.”

“We don’t know whose cars they are,” Stacy objected. “They might not be the Homesteaders’.”

“They are,” Gary and Reyn said at the same time. They both smiled. The first time all night.

All three of them got out of the car, Gary taking his tire iron with him.

“All right,” Reyn said, agreeing to Gary’s plan. “But you come back for us if there’s any problem.”

Gary nodded.

“If there’s any question about there being a problem,” Stacy added. “If there’s a minor inconvenience .”

“Deal.”

Gary hefted the tire iron in his hand and was about to start off when Reyn said, “Wait,” and walked back to the trunk. He opened it, drawing out a long screwdriver. “Slip it in your belt,” he said, handing the tool to Gary. “Just in case.”

Gary nodded and also accepted a long metal flashlight. “Thanks.” He pointed it at the ground and turned it on, testing it to see if it worked. It did. Reyn pulled out a lug wrench for himself and closed the trunk.

“I’ll be—” back , Gary started to say, and thought he saw a man-sized shadow detach itself from the darkness before them and slip behind a pickup truck. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and gooseflesh instantly overtook his arms. Before he could say anything or even switch on his flashlight, the shadowy figure emerged from somewhere off to their right, running crazily toward them.

“Outsiders!” it yelled in a man’s voice.

They all jumped back, startled and frightened, and Gary managed to switch on the flashlight, aiming it upward. He had time to register that it was indeed a man, that he was dressed in Homesteader garb, that he did not appear to be deformed, and then he was upon them. Stacy was the one closest to him, and with one wild leap he jumped on her. She screamed, tried to fight him off, but he grabbed her head in both hands and twisted.

She fell to the ground, limp, the Homesteader on top of her. The man raised his arms in triumph. Stacy’s eyes were open wide, as though she’d seen something surprising, and her mouth was open. The expression on her face, the last expression she would ever have, was one of shock and horror.