Blackout (13 page)

'I have to,'Josh said again. 'I'm going to find Marshall's friends,' said Kate. 'They'll be out looking for us. Keep going along this track for two miles. When you see an abandoned mine, take the track heading due north for one mile. You'll see a rock formation to the right. We'll be there for the night.'

Josh turned around, and started walking back into town.

Josh paused outside the motel, scanning the building. The town was crawling with policemen and agents, he reminded himself. There could easily be one here.

As he stepped into the lobby of the Motel 6, Madge's expression changed from a pout to a scowl. She was by herself, dressed in the regulation yellow tunic of the chain: underneath the nylon of the shirt, Josh could make out the blue fabric of her bra. He noticed the plump swelling of her breasts inside it. 'What do you want?' she said.

Josh stepped forward, leaning against the edge of the counter.

'This motel is full,' she said, her face reddening with anger. 'Madge, I'm really sorry.'

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'We're full,' she repeated.

Josh held his position. 'You don't understand, Madge,' he continued. 'I was hurt. I've been shot twice, and it's affected my memory. I didn't know my own.name, who I was or where I came from. I just didn't realise who you were this morning.' He hesitated, making sure that she could detect the lump in his throat. 'Or how much you meant to me.'

Madge's expression softened. She pushed away the hair that had fallen in front of her face. 'What happened?' she said.

'I don't know,' Josh replied. 'Monday, I was involved in some kind of accident. Or worse.'

Suddenly, Madge threw her arms around him and kissed his cheeks with her wet lips. 'I was lying,' she whispered in his ear. 'We've got lots of room. And I'm closing the desk five minutes early'

Twenty minutes later, they were lying in bed together,-their bodies naked, stretched out on the crumpled white sheets.

Josh hugged Madge close to him. Their bodies were hot and sticky, her arms still cradling his chest. She reached up and kissed him on the lips, resting her hands against the bandage wrapped around his neck.

'I was so angry when I thought you'd forgotten who I was,' she said. 'I wanted to kill you.'

Josh smiled, removing her hand from the bandage. 'If you want to kill me. you'll have to join the queue.'

Madge turned on to her side, her cheek against the pillow. Room 19 was a compact, pre-designed box, with a double bed, a pair of side lights, and a picture of the Californian coast on the wall. There was a TV, a shower room, and not much else. Grabbing a room whenever she wanted to sleep with a guy was one of the perks of Madge's job, decided Josh.

'They came to question me,' she said.

Josh suddenly jerked out of the post-coital slumber into which he had drifted. 'Who?'

'Federal agents, Josh,' she said. 'They showed me their

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cards and everything. They said I should talk to them. They said that you were a witness to the shooting of Ben Lippard.'

Her worried stare met Josh's. 'Is that true?'

'I think so,' answered Josh. 'I can't say for certain because I can't remember anything.'

Madge pulled up the white cotton sheet so that it covered her breasts. 'I told them I didn't know anything. I just said Josh is a fine man. He wouldn't hurt anyone.'

I hope that's true, thought Josh to himself. Right now I wouldn't be so certain.

'They accepted that?'

'They looked pretty pissed off. But eventually they went away'

'How long was I here for?'

'You?'

Josh nodded. 'How long was I at the motel?'

'Nine days,' said Madge. 'I noticed you as soon as you checked in. You had a nice smile.'

'And what was I doing?'

'You don't know what you were doing?'

Josh shook his head.'I told you, I don't remember anything.'

'Scouting tourist sites,' said Madge, sounding bored by the question. 'You said you worked for a tour company in England.You were planning routes, finding hotels, checking places to eat.'

I lied to her, thought Josh. Whatever the hell I was doing here, that sure wasn't it.

Josh squeezed her tight^ caressing her shoulders. 'And who else was staying at the hotel at the same time as me?'

Madge looked thoughtful. 'Usual people,' she replied. 'Salesmen. A couple of stray tourists. People who were moving house. Husbands who'd been thrown out by their wives. I don't pay much attention to the guests at the Motel 6.' She snuggled up close to Josh. 'I certainly don't do this with them.'

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'Anyone unusual?'

Madge's nose tilted disdainfully. 'One guy'

'Who?'

'An Italian,' said Madge. 'Carrying an Italian passport when he checked in. I noticed it because I've never seen one of those before, and we don't get many foreigners in Boisdale. Heck, we don't even get that many people who aren't from Arizona. First, an Englishman, then this Italian. I couldn't help but notice.'

'You said there was something suspicious about him?'

Madge nodded. 'Just the way he acted. I didn't like it.'

'In what way?'

'I don't know.'

Josh looked at her intently. 'Describe him to me.'

'I can show you a picture.'

Josh picked himself up from the bed, and started walking towards the shower. He had to be careful when he washed not to disturb the bandage on his neck. He dried himself off, put the towel on the rack, and slipped on his jeans and shirt.

'Show me the picture, Madge, and I'll love you for ever,' he said. He could tell that she was enjoying the drama and mystery of all this.

She followed him outside. It was after eleven at night, but the air was still hot and the breeze had dropped, making the night sticky and sweaty. Josh could see one car pulling up down in the parking lot but the middle-aged man getting out looked harmless enough: the tpwn might be crawling with spotters but he wasn't one of them. Madge took the metal staircase, then used her staff key to let herself into the lobby: the reception was closed at this time of night.

'Here,' she said, reaching into a grey metal filing cabinet in the small office behind the desk. 'We keep the guest records in here. We photocopy the passports of foreigners, and keep the details on file for three months.'

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'Can I see mine?' said Josh.

She took the file and placed it in front of him. For a second, Josh could feel his blood surging through his veins. I'm about to find out who I am.

Josh looked down at the photocopy of his passport. Josh Bellamy, born in Sunderland.

That's not it, I'm not a Geordie. I was travelling under a false name, and a false passport. My name might not even be Josh.

Why would I be travelling under a false name?

Madge started rifling through the drawer, then pulled out a single sheet of white photostatted paper. On it was imprinted the image of a man. Josh looked down. Like all passport photos, it was small, with a white backdrop, and the person was wearing their most sombre expression.

The man in this photocopy had dark, smooth skin, just the way Madge had described him. His hair was black, brushed away from his face, and his dark eyes were set far apart from each other. The jaw looked as though it had been chiselled from stone, but the nose was crooked, as if it had been broken. It was a distinguished face, Josh decided: the mask of a man who knew both what he wanted, and how to hide it.

I've seen him before, thought Josh. I don't know where or how, but I know this man.

And I feel certain that I'll see him again.

'How long was he here?'

'Just the Sunday and Monday nights,' said Madge.

He arrives just before I get shot, thought Josh. And he leaves straight afterwards.

It was a four-mile walk back from the motel, taking three quarters of an hour: a mile to get out of town, two miles along the track, then, as the light faded, another mile up into the hills where Kate had told him they would be

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camping out for the night. Along the way, Josh had been thinking through all the things he had learned from Madge. A hundred different possibilities were running through his head: he needed time to sort them out and start making sense of what had happened to him.

What do I know? he asked himself. My name was Josh -- maybe. I was staying in Boisdale. I lied about what I was doing, and I may have travelled under a false name. A man I recognise from somewhere came to stay at the hotel. Then I got shot.

The more he thought about it, the less sense it made.

His legs were aching from the effort of walking so many miles in one day. The wounds needed rest but that wasn't possible, not yet. There was still too much to be done.

He took the dirt track, letting the moonlight light up the path for him, until he hit the abandoned mine. Then he took the turning that Kate had described to him. Another mile dragged wearily by. As he drew closer, he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep going. He must have travelled at least twenty miles on foot in the last twenty-four hours: a punishing walk, even for a man who hadn't recently taken some lead.

Eventually, he saw the boulder formation. Sniffing the air, he could smell a fire, although he couldn't yet see it. Whoever was hiding there was clearly experienced enough to know how to build a fire, yet at the same time shield its light from the main track. Josh stepped forwards, pushing into the collection of boulders, letting his nose lead him.

Then, in front of him, he made out two men who blended into the landscape the same way a boulder blends into a rockfall. Their skin was tanned, leathery and lined. Both of them had grey hair and grey beards, although they looked no more than forty. A fire was burning in front of a cave, sending tiny plumes of smoke climbing upwards into the clear night sky: on top of the flames, its body pierced by a

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crooked stick, was some kind of small animal. A bird of some sort, figured Josh, as he smelled the charred flesh. Christ, maybe even a snake. These guys look like they'll eat anything.

'You okay?' Kate asked, a trace of anxiety in her voice as she emerged from the shadows.

Josh nodded. 'Who are they?'

One of the two men looked up at Josh, then stabbed the tiny creature. The fat from its body spluttered, falling into the fire, sending a sheet of sparks flying upwards.

Kate took Josh by the arm. 'This is Danny O'Brien,' she said, 'and this is Richie Morant.' She looked up at Josh. 'Marshall sent them out to look for us when we disappeared,' she said. 'They're here to help.'

'What the hell is this place?' said Josh, looking around the tiny, rough camp.

'It's a survivalist base,' said Kate. 'Many people believe that the UN is going to invade the United States one day. They've got all the kit here that they need to organise the local resistance. Food, fuel, explosives, some ammunition. The works.'

Great, thought-Josh. Nutters.

He looked up. O'Brien was the shorter of the pair. His eyes were a pale grey, and you could see the Irish ancestry in him still: his head was broad and square, like a concrete block, and his shoulders were massive, but his manner was relaxed and genial. Morant, a bigger man, had a thick scar running down his left cheek, and the build of a brickie: he too had huge shoulders and biceps, a beefy torso tapering to a thin waist, then a pair .of legs like tree trunks. Both men looked strong and healthy, and there was something wild about their appearance. Their hair was thick with grease. And they carried with them the dry, dusty smell of the desert.

'Is it you?' said O'Brien.

'Is it me, what?' asked Josh, looking towards him.

'Who's set the Feds crawling all over the place,' O'Brien said.

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'You can't move for the motherfuckers,' said Morant. 'Nice quiet bit of the desert we had out here. Now it's crawling with agents. United Nations. Foreigners.'

Christ, thought Josh. Where the hell did Kate find these two?

'I'm hiding from them myself,' said Josh.

O'Brien nodded, and a smile suddenly flashed across his face. 'Marshall says you're okay, a soldier.'

'I think so,' said Josh. 'He told you about me?'

'Said you might need some help,' said Morant.

He reached out for the animal roasting on the homemade spit, and took it from the fire. It was long and thin, but it had legs: that ruled out a snake. Its flesh was singed from the flames, but the smell was good: a succulent, fatty odour somewhere between chicken and pork. Josh was famished.

'Want some?' said Morant, offering him a chunk of meat. 'It's crane.'

Josh nodded. He took a bite from the greasy lump of flesh now sitting in his hands. It was stringy, with the texture of rabbit.

'I need help,' he said. 'Marshall was right about that.'

'What kind of help?' asked O'Brien.

Josh was sitting next to the fire now. The temperature had dropped, making the warmth a welcome respite from the chilled air. In the light of the fire, he could see the faces of both men more clearly. There was a determination in both of them: an inner core of stjjength. But also a lightness of spirit.

Josh tapped the side of his head. 'I lost my memory when I got shot,' he said. 'Over in the Sheriff's office, they know who I am. I want to get in there and see my files.'

'Fucking government,' said O'Brien. 'Got no right keeping files on any man.'

'When the fucking UN takes over the country,' said

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Morant, 'they're going to take down anyone who tries to oppose them. This damned country's going to be finished.'

'Assholes,' said O'Brien. A thick wedge of cooked meat was dangling from his teeth. 'They got no fucking files on us, that's for sure. So far as the law is concerned, we don't exist. And we're keeping it that way.'

'You'll help me?'

'You're a fucking foreigner,' spat O'Brien. 'We only deal with Americans.'

'We don't trust you,' said Morant.

'We only trust our own kind,' added O'Brien.

'Even if I'm against the Feds?' said Josh.

There was a silence while both men paused for thought.

'Marshall told you--' began Kate.