Light in the Barren Lands: Travail of The Dark Mage Book One (18 page)

The trio kept silent as they hurried along in front of houses shrouded in darkness. A few were lit from within, though whoever it was remained ignorant of the small group passing silently by.

Off in the distance the night sky was illuminated by many lights from below. James nodded toward the bright area. “The city’s center.”

“This Bakersfield you mentioned?” Jiron asked.

James nodded. “I think so.”

He had explained to Jiron about having seen the Bakersfield bumper sticker on the truck, and how Bakersfield was located in southern California. That was why he had made it a point to allow the woman to overhear their mentioning of Reno. Reno was a hundred miles or more to the north. If she failed to wait out the two days, any search would hopefully be concentrated in that area.

“Do you plan to go that way?”

James shook his head. “No.” With still no plan on what they were to do to get home, or, if that proved unattainable, what to do about the authorities searching for them, his main goal for the moment was to simply remain on the loose. As long as they could keep one step ahead of the authorities, there was hope.

They continued down the street until spying a corner convenient store up ahead. Four fuel pumps sat silent sentinel out front and upon drawing nearer, they discovered a lone, bored looking clerk sitting behind the counter. A small TV on the counter held the clerk’s attention.

“You two wait here,” he said. “I’m going to go in and see if I can find out what town we are in.”

“Isn’t this Bakersfield?” questioned Jiron.

“Most likely,” he replied. “But I’d like to be certain.”

“Be careful,” advised Jiron.

James couldn’t help but smile. People kept saying that, and though he knew it was said with the best of intentions, found it funny that anyone would assume he planned to be anything but careful.

The clerk was a young man in his mid twenties, with long blonde hair in dire need of a good combing. He looked up as James entered the store, and after a quick once over of this late hour customer, found James to be relatively harmless, so returned his attention to the TV.

James let the door swing shut behind him, took two steps, then came to an abrupt halt. For there standing before him was a pair of one armed bandits. Now these weren’t your run-of-the-mill bandits lacking one of their extremities. No, these bandits were of a much different kind. In fact, James would have been far less surprised to have encountered the fleshy version. These were something that he had never seen in a convenient store before, at least not in California. He wasn’t certain what the ramification of encountering said bandits may be, but sure as God made little green apples, before him loomed the flashy, brightly lit exteriors of two slot machines.

Unless things had changed greatly since his departure six years ago, they weren’t in California. For in California, slot machines were illegal except on Reservations. And if nothing had changed, they could only be in Nevada.

He had taken a trip once to Laughlin, NV years ago with his grandparents to see some relatives he hardly knew and didn’t really care for. During the trip, he had seen slot machines everywhere, even grocery stores. His grandfather had even scolded him once when while waiting to be seated at a Denny’s, he slipped a quarter into one and pulled the handle.

Pulling his eyes from the slot machines, he quickly scanned the area near the counter and located where the newspapers were displayed. He hardly dared to look, but already knew what he would find. Considering where they had first hid in the trunk, there were really only two routes they could have taken to bring them to Nevada.

One led through Lake Tahoe, but from what little he had seen of the area thus far, knew they couldn’t be there. Nestled high in the mountains on the state line between Nevada and California, the Lake Tahoe area was absolutely covered in pine trees, but there hadn’t been more than one or two sighted since leaving the trunk. Not to mention a much lower temperature. He knew they weren’t in Lake Tahoe.

This meant that the truck towing the car had taken I-80. There were many small towns along that route, but as his eyes fell upon the Reno Gazette-Journal, he knew in which town they were. And it was the last place they wanted to be. But still, they could merely be in one of the towns in the Reno area. Either way, it boded ill should Destiny talk and direct the authorities this way.

“Can I help you?”

The question startled him out of his reverie. “Uh, no. Just getting some supplies,” he replied. “Thanks.”

Shrugging, the clerk said, “Let me know if you need any.” Then he once again returned to the program playing on the tv.

Reno!
How could they be in Reno? Trying not to look suspicious, James quickly roamed along the few, free standing displays while his mind was a million miles away. Before he knew it, he had his hands full of various small bags of chips, cookies, and wet wipes though for the life of him he didn’t remember picking them up.

Figuring he had enough to allay the clerk’s mind, he headed for the counter. On the way, he paused by a freezer containing a variety of individually packaged ice cream goodness. He selected three Triple Chocolate cones then went and emptied his armload onto the counter.

As the clerk began scanning the items, James grabbed one of the newspapers and added it to the pile.

“Late night munchies?” the clerk asked.

“Hmmm?” asked a distracted James. Mind still on the problem of their being in Reno, he failed to catch what the clerk had said.

Holding up one of the cones, the clerk asked, “Got the munchies?”

“You could say that.”

From his vantage point, James could see the television screen. Tanks rolled across a battle torn plain in one of the many war movies his grandfather had liked. It may have been Patton, but he couldn’t be sure. Patton was one of the few war movies of the era that he remembered, let alone liked. About all that he could remember from it was the profanity laced speech George C. Scott gave in front of the flag. That, and lots of tank battles.

“That’ll be $15.87.”

“Uh, yeah, right.” Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a twenty and handed it over. As he waited for change, he noticed the program fade to commercial. When the clerk began counting his change back, the commercial came to an end. Then all of a sudden, the screen was filled with the video feed of their attack on the security guard. He couldn’t hear what was being said as the television’s sound was turned down low.

Facing the counter as he was, the television was out of the clerk’s field of vision. While he put James’ items in a plastic bag, the scene shifted and the motel appeared. A man holding a microphone stood in front of the restaurant. He was interviewing the waitress.

“…and that’s twenty,” the clerk concluded.

“Thanks,” he replied. Stuffing the change into his pocket, he grabbed the plastic bag holding his items. The last thing he saw before hurrying from the store was a head shot of both him and Jiron clearly displayed upon the screen.

Moving quickly, he made his way through the gas pumps and met Jiron in the relative shadows curbside. “We’ve got to get out of here,” he said. A glance back to the clerk within the store showed him to be once again plopped in the same position in front of the television set as when James had first entered.

James explained the situation to his friend, and about their pictures being broadcast on the tv. “So either he didn’t recognize me, or the newscast ended before he started watching again.” Reaching into the bag, he brought out the trio of cones.

Jira didn’t at first comprehend what her uncle had given her, not until James began unwrapping his, then her eyes widened in glee.

Jiron glanced back. “Seems quiet,” he replied.

“Yes, but for how long?” Taking a rather large bite of his cone, James mulled over their options should the authorities discover their whereabouts. There weren’t many.

At the next intersection, they turned down another residential street. Off in the distance the glow from what James figured to be downtown Reno brightened the night sky. But already, dawn approached and far to the east, the dark of night had begun to make way for the light of day, a breath of brightening, only the merest hint of the day to come.

The street was fairly quiet as they made their way past many homes. The odd car would quietly drive by, its driver intent on unknown errands. Then after a brief stretch of solitude lacking any motorized intrusions, the lights of another car appeared in the distance ahead.

At first James paid little attention to the oncoming vehicle but quickly noticed the erratic way in which the car moved. Zigging first one way, its tires would almost reach one curb before zagging abruptly to the other.

“Drunk,” James informed his friend in disgust. “Some guy coming home late from the bar.”

“Are you allowed to drive in such a condition?” he asked. Back in The City of Light, a driver caught driving in such a manner would find himself locked up until he sobered then hit with a fine.

“No,” James replied. He was about to say more when the car jerked sharply to the left. It’s left front tire hit the curb and knocked a mailbox off its base before coming to a skewed stop in a driveway not fifteen feet from them. Then, the driver side door opened and a man looking in every way the drunk, practically fell from the car in his attempt to get out.

Jiron flashed James a humorous grin as the guy picked himself up and staggered to the front door of the house. Motioning for James to follow, he hurried forward with Jira’s hand held in his.

At the door, the man was mumbling incoherently to himself. With keys a-jingling, it took him five tries before inserting the key and unlocking the door. Once the door swung open, the man took one step inside before pitching face first to the floor. The keys were still in the lock.

“Is he dead?” asked Jira. Cutting around the car, they could clearly see where the man lay unmoving.

“I doubt it,” her father explained. “Most likely passed out.” Then his eyes went to the keys still hanging in the door’s lock. A quick glance around the neighborhood revealed the man’s unconventional parking job had gone unnoticed. Although, given the number of ruts visible in the man’s lawn, this was unlikely the first time he had come home in this condition.

Turning to James, Jiron asked, “Can you drive one of these cars?”

“What?” questioned James.

Motioning to the car sitting in the driveway, he asked, “Can you operate one of these?”

“I did have a license before I came to your world,” he replied. “But I never had that much practice. My grandparents were scared to death to let me drive and I…” Getting a suspicious look he asked, “Why?”

Jiron handed his duffle to Jira then headed for the door. “It’ll be hours before he comes around,” he replied. “And it could be even longer before he thinks to look for his car.” Upon reaching the doorway, he stepped around the prone man and entered the house. Then bending over, he took hold of the man’s arms and pulled him further into the living room. Finding the couch, he brought the man over to it and laid him out upon its cushions.

Seeing that James had followed him in, Jiron said, “That should hold him for a while.”

“I hate the thought of stealing his car,” objected James. Not to mention the very real fact that he was nervous about getting behind the wheel again. It had been years, and he had never been that great to begin with.

“You said we needed to get out of here quickly,” Jiron said. “Is there another way?”

“Nothing comes to mind.”

“Then let’s get out of here before his neighbors start waking up.” Outside, the sky had lightened even further.

James shut and locked the door with the man’s keys that still hung from the keyhole, then hurried to the car. Jiron meanwhile stowed their bags in the backseat with Jira nestled in the middle. He came around to the passenger side door where he paused a moment to make sure the street remained vacant and devoid of witnesses. Then he cleared several bottles, empty but for the alcoholic residue the man must have overlooked, from the seat before he could sit down.

“Hurry up,” he urged James who had yet to take his seat behind the wheel.

“Alright.” Slipping into the driver’s seat, he shut the door and searched through the dozen or so keys attached to the key ring before finding the most likely candidate. Feeling a moderate sense of accomplishment when the key slid smoothly into the ignition, James put his foot on the brake and started the car. The engine roared to life.

“Seat belts on?” he asked as his belt clicked into place. It was going to be an interesting ride and he felt they should take what precautions they could. Once the others had theirs on, he slipped it into reverse. Looking over his shoulder, he eased off on the brake.

The car didn’t move.

Giving it a little gas, the car felt like it wanted to move, but that something was holding it back.

“What’s wrong?” asked Jiron. He too could feel that something was amiss.

“I’m not…,” he began, then checked the parking brake. Sure enough, it was engaged. Feeling slightly embarrassed for having forgotten something so basic, he pulled the release lever and the car began rolling backward. He panicked at the sudden movement and slammed on the brakes. “Sorry,” he announced, when the car jerked to a sudden stop.

“Are you sure you can drive one of these things?”

“Like I said, I’m a bit rusty.” Looking back over his shoulder again, he made sure the street was clear in both directions then eased off the brake. The car rolled backward and entered the street. He did his best to position it in the correct lane facing the right direction, but ended up having half the car in the opposite lane. The car jerked to a sudden stop again when he hit the brake harder than intended. Then he put it into drive and gave it some gas. He eased the car into position in the correct lane and slowly drove down the street.

“Anyone see us leave?” he asked.

Jiron looked back through the rearview window. “Doesn’t look like it,” he replied. The street was deserted. Coming into view some distance down the street behind them were the headlights of another motorist. “A car is approaching.”