The Hunted (10 page)
Authors: Matt De La Peña
Reports from the Wreckage
DJ DAN:
â¦Ben Vasquez, a
photojournalist
joining us from Blythe, California, near Arizona. Ben, you crossed into California several weeks ago to do one story, but you soon became consumed by another, is that right?
BEN:
Two others, actually. And they overlap. [
Pause
.] A few days after the earthquakes, the
New York Times
asked me and a small crew to do a story on the damage and the early recovery efforts. We spent five days compiling video footage in places like Orange County and downtown LA and San Bernardino, but when my crew and I tried to arrange for a refuel, so we could helicopter out, we were told that was no longer an option. Anyone who'd set foot on California soil since the earthquakes had to stay put until a vaccine was distributed. And we were told about the border going up.
We were furious, of course. And devastated. Our families were back home, waiting for us. Not knowing what else to do, we continued working. But our focus soon shifted, like you said. We kept meeting different groups of people who'd crossed the border, into California, to try to help. The media has been referring to them as “crusaders.” And it's these crusaders who've helped us track the other story we're drawn to: the progress of scientists working on a treatment.
DJ DAN:
And what are you hearing?
BEN:
Nothing to report in terms of a vaccine, I'm afraid. But there's been a lot of talk lately about a viable treatment drug. Multiple pharmaceutical companies claim to be experimenting with a pill that will not just mask the symptoms of Romero Disease but eliminate the disease altogether. Over the course of time.
DJ DAN:
This is very exciting news. And you believe they're close?
BEN:
That's what we keep hearing. Of course, even after the drug exists, it still has to be approved and distributed. And like I said, we're talking about a treatment, not a vaccine.
DJ DAN:
It's still very exciting. Now, why don't you describe these crusaders for my audience?
BEN:
Sure. The initial wave arrived directly after the earthquakes. They mostly consisted of government groups like the Red Cross and FEMA and the National Guard, as well as a number of media groups, like my crew and me. We were responding to the earthquakes and were totally unprepared for the rapidly spreading disease. We're estimating that nearly a third of my wave has died from the disease.
The second wave was mostly organized, too, but they were no longer affiliated with the American government. Not directly, anyway. These crusaders snuck into California illegally, fully aware that they wouldn't be allowed back. They've proven incredibly helpful, as you know, bringing in food and medical supplies and radio
equipmentâthey've
even smuggled in weapons for people to use as protection. We recently met with one group that's started up a bus route in the middle of the desert. They assist anyone wanting to travel to and from the border. Another group helps organize self-sustaining communities just west of the border in Avondale.
A third wave began emerging a couple weeks ago. These groups are much more politically motivated. They're horrified by the government's decision to cut off California and parts of Oregon from the rest of the country, and their sole focus is protest. The majority of their demonstrations take place east of the border, but a few have actually crossed over to protest from the California side. They've done an amazing job creating awareness.
DJ DAN:
But not all of these groups are here to help, is that right?
BEN:
Unfortunately, a much smaller fourth wave has emerged. These people don't believe a vaccine will be enough to stop the spread of the disease. Especially if it goes airborne like a few kooky scientists are predicting. These guys enter California and parts of Oregon in four-wheel-drive vehicles carrying an arsenal of weapons, wearing full dry suits, sometimes breathing through oxygen tanks. Their objective is to raze everything within twenty miles of the border, including camps full of people. Most of these groups are still in the desert, near the border. But we're afraid some may start moving west.
DJ DAN:
The point is, not all crusaders are here to help.
BEN:
Oh, no. Some have come to killâ¦.
Good News, Bad News
Shy stood near the far window, stripped down to his
chones,
peering across the empty trailer at Carmen and cursing himself. It was about the least appropriate time to be drooling over a female, but that's exactly what he was doing.
Asshole!
She sat on a plastic folding chair, wearing nothing but the bra and panties she'd swiped from the sporting goods store. She was trying to cover herself with her arms and her long, wavy hair, but she could only hide so much. Little stretches of her beautiful brown stomach were still visible, including the patch of words tattooed just below her belly button. Shy was too far away to actually read the tattoo, but he imagined it was something deep. Some philosophical saying or passage from a poem that he'd understand on a
way
deeper level than some punk-ass, prelaw fiancé.
Shy glanced at the armed guard beside him, who was wearing a full-on dry suit and gas mask.
After Shy, Carmen and Marcus left the hospital the previous night, where the only suture kits they found in the ER were empty, the pastor had tossed Shy keys to a storage facility a few blocks away, and that was where they'd spent the night. In a large, roach-infested concrete cubicle, surrounded by some random person's boxed-up belongings.
They passed the long, sleepless night mostly in silence. Shoeshine sweating bullets and holding his wounded leg. Shy picking away at one of the extra pockets Shoeshine had sewn into the gut of the duffel bag, then pulling out the comb-over man's letter and rereading it another fifteen, twenty times, concentrating on the missing page that he was sure had the rest of the vaccine formula. Carmen and Marcus listening to some DJ reporting on the types of crusaders who'd come into California.
When they'd stumbled into the Sony lots in the morning, Shy asked the men in the security shed for Gregory Martinez, like he was told to, and he handed over the envelope of cash. A few minutes later, Marcus and Shoeshine were led to an emergency tent, and Shy was stripped down to his boxers, across the trailer from Carmen, with some doctor taking a blood sample to test for Romero Disease.
It was over an hour before the head security guy finally came back into the trailer, this time without his gas mask on. He had a shaved head and wore thick-lensed glasses. He was Mexican, and Shy assumed the rest of the security guards were too, based on their accents. “I have some good news and some bad news,” the man said, looking mostly at Shy. “Why don't we start with the good. None of you tested positive for Romero Disease.”
Shy and Carmen glanced at each other, Shy trying to keep his eyes above her neckline. “What about the bad?” he asked.
The man crossed his arms and leaned against the wall near the door. “Here's the deal: we're already over capacity. And Gregory says the medical attention your friend requires would be an additional charge. After he's stitched up, I'm afraid we're gonna have to let you go.”
“Are you serious?” Carmen barked, still covering herself. “We just gave you almost five grand.”
“That's all we got,” Shy pleaded. They needed to get inside. Their plan was to try and get on the radio show they'd discovered the night before and tell their families where they were. It would also give Shoeshine a full day to recover after getting fixed up.
“I'm sorry,” the man said, pushing off the wall.
Carmen scoffed and turned to Shy. “Wasn't it one of those Suzuki guys who told us to come here in the first place?”
“Exactly.” Shy turned to the man. “How do you think I knew to ask for Gregory Martinez?”
“See, you got that part wrong,” he answered. “The lots aren't run by the Suzuki Gang. We're our own operation.”
“The three of us only wanna be in there for
one
day,” Carmen said.
The man smiled. “Once you got inside, you'd want to stay. Believe me.”
Carmen shook her head. “One day. Swear to God.”
Shy glanced down at the duffel by his feet, another idea suddenly coming to mind.
A second security guard came to the door with a large towel. The man in the glasses took the towel and tossed it over to Carmen. “To cover yourself,” he said.
“What about trades?” Shy asked.
The guard turned to look at him. “Trades?”
“Like, what if I have something that's worth a lot of money? Would you take that instead of cash?”
The man stood there, thinking.
It was a steep price to pay for just one day, but they didn't have a choice. The radio DJ was supposedly inside these gates. And they needed to make sure Shoeshine was healthy enough to keep going. And maybe they could fill their backpacks with food and water before starting their long journey.
“I'd have to ask Gregory,” the man said. “But if you have something of legitimate valueâ¦I don't see why not.”
Shy kneeled to unzip the duffel. He grabbed the sparkling diamond ring and held it up for the man to see. “This is the real thing, man. Look at all these carats. It's probably worth ten, fifteen grand at least.”
The guard walked over and took the ring from Shy. “How do we know it's not a fake?” he asked, checking it out.
“Used to belong to this superrich oil guy,” Shy said. “Trust me, he wasn't buying no fakes.” He glanced at Carmen, who was staring at the ring, too.
The guard seemed impressed. “Tell you what, I'll check with Gregory. If he likes what he sees, you're in. If he doesn't, I'll come back with your clothes and we can agree to part ways.”
“He'll like what he sees,” Shy assured the man.
He and Carmen watched the guard leave the trailer. Carmen then turned to Shy and said: “Was that what I thinkâ?”
“I didn't steal it,” he said, cutting her off. “Swear to God, Carm. He gave it to me right before he went overboard. I don't even know why.”
Carmen had been with Shy when he saw the ring for the first time on the cruise ship. The oilman was showing it off on the Lido Deck, bragging to everyone who would listen about how many carats it was and how he was going to spring it on his girl at dinner. Except he never got the chance. Later that night the tsunami hit. And the ship went down. And the oilman somehow ended up on the same broken lifeboat as Shy and Addie.
“Why didn't you tell me?” Carmen asked.
Shy shrugged. “Never really thought about it, I guess.”
“You never
thought
about it?”
Shy shrugged. It was a straight-up lie, of course. He'd thought about it a
million
times. But in his head it was always some big storybook moment. Them making it home and finding everything still perfectly intact. Everyone hugging each other and their moms crying. And in the celebration he'd kneel down and slip the ring onto Carmen's finger, and everyone would cheer and do a toast and say it was a perfect match.
Carmen adjusted her towel, shaking her head.
Shy's heart sagged. He didn't even know why. “I just hope it's enough to get us in,” he mumbled.
The guard returned a few minutes later with four tied-up plastic grocery bags. “More good news,” he announced with a grin. He tossed the first bag to Carmen, then the other one to Shy. “Gregory has agreed to the trade. Get dressed. You guys are in.”
Shy gave a thumbs-up to Carmen as they both untied their bags and reached in for the jeans and white T-shirts they'd been given. But he was pretty bummed at the same time. Not only had he given away his good-luck charm, he'd given away the only thing of value he would ever be able to offer Carmen.
The Sony Lots
Shy followed Carmen, Marcus and the guards through a tall brick tunnel into the mouth of the property, where they were met by another group of people, including a man named Darius, who introduced himself as their guide. Darius wore a slightly soiled suit and tie, and a fedora. “Whatever you need during your time here,” the slender man told them, “I'm your guy.”
He then led them through a tour of the massive grounds.
Shy was blown away by what he saw. There was a large, open grassy area, only partially burned, where at least a hundred people sat around on plastic folding chairs, watching a group of kids chase around a soccer ball. On one side of the grassy area were several three-story office buildings covered in yellow caution tape. The buildings sagged, and many of their windows had been blown out. But on the other side of the field there were two large trailers pushed together and perfectly intact. This was the cafeteria, Darius explained.
As they moved deeper into the property, Darius told them how the Sony lots had functioned before the earthquakes. Scenes from movies and TV shows were shot here. The property was split up into a number of different lots, all operating independently, under the Sony umbrella. And each lot had a vastly different look and feel depending on what was being shot.
Shy stared into what Darius called the Wild West lot. It had an actual barn and stables and tumbleweeds and scorched bales of hay. He couldn't believe how elaborate each detail was. The Las Vegas lot was the same way. The front half was a fancy casino with slot machines and gaudy sculptures and bars with fake bottles of alcohol stacked in pyramids. Inside there were rooms with heart-shaped hot tubs and mirrored walls and ceilings.
The entire property was dedicated to little make-believe worldsâeven now that the cameras were turned off and everyone else in California was living like squatters. Shy recalled what Shoeshine had said about people hiding from reality. This was a perfect example. Maybe that's all TV was, a place to hide.
Darius showed them the rest of the East Wing, which included the Coffeehouse lot, the Bowling Alley lot, the Cruise Ship lot, two different Police Station lots and the Haunted Swamp lot. Three lots had been destroyed in the earthquakes and were marked off with caution tape, but the rest had suffered only minor damage and, according to Darius, were open to all residents.
Eventually the man led them to a large collection of trailers lined up behind the cafeteria. They were the kind movie stars hung out in while they waited for their scene. Darius keyed open one of the trailers in the back row and said it was where the four of them would be staying.
“Just a couple simple rules,” he said, standing in front of the door. “One: basic foods and bottled water are distributed twice a day in the cafeteria. There are three different rotations to cut down on crowds. You'll be part of the B rotation. Because we have generators, a couple times a week there will be a hot meal. We have to conserve like everywhere else, but we do our best to make residents feel comfortable.”
A hot meal?
Carmen mouthed to Shy.
He shrugged, trying not to get too excited. They would only be here for a day, and he was pretty sure there wouldn't be any hot meals in the desert.
“Two,” Darius continued, “residents are free to explore any of the various lots unless we've either cautioned them off or we're using them for our children's programming.”
“Children's programming?” Marcus asked. “You got these kids out here playing Twister?”
“You'd be surprised,” Darius said, grinning. “The parents here, they don't want their little ones to know how bad things are. The more this place feels like summer camp, the better.”
“So what do
you
get out of all this?” Shy asked.
Darius turned to him. “Well, for one thing I'm a whole lot safer. That disease out there is a bastard, man. And we got doctors who test every single person who sets foot inside this place. We're about as close to untouchable as you can get.”
The hospital's pediatric ward flashed through Shy's head again. He couldn't shake it.
“But it's an investment, too,” Darius said. “Me and all the staff, we were working here when the earthquakes hit. The bigwigsâthe actors and producers and business-type peopleâthey all took off, but a bunch of us security guards saw it as a business opportunity. So we stayed and fixed the place up, best we could. At first we charged a small amount to people who'd lost their homes. But when the disease started
spreadingâ¦that's
when
everyone
wanted to stay here. And we upped the price. And let doctors in for free if they agreed to practice their medicine in here.”
“But what good is money now?” Carmen asked.
Darius paused for a few seconds. “Look, eventually this thing's gonna come to an end. It
has
to. And when that happens, we'll be sitting pretty. And if it doesn'tâ¦shit, I'll be dead anyway, right?”
“Speak for yourself,” Marcus said. “I plan on
survivin',
bro. No matter what kind of shit gets in my way.”
Shy looked around the rows of trailers. He knew they were lucky to get a day inside these walls, where they were safe. But he still felt weird about giving up his ring. What would happen if things really
did
go back to normal? Would it end up in a pawnshop somewhere? Would one of these security guys give it to
his
girl?
Shy met eyes with Carmen for a sec before turning away.
“One last thing,” Darius said. “Try and stay away from the perimeter. We've had a little trouble with outsiders recently.”
“What kind of trouble?” Shy asked.
“They've thrown over a few glass bottles,” Darius said. “And a brick. Stuff like that. One guy shot out a camera lens in one of the lots. Just keep your eyes open is all I'm saying.”
Shy wasn't surprised. While the people in here were pretending it was summer camp, everyone on the outside was struggling just to survive.
Of course
they hated the Sony lots.
“Anyway,” Darius said, clapping his hands together, “my guys left you a small welcome gift inside. And you'll find four pads with pillows and blanketsâ”
“One more question,” Shy interrupted. “Where's that DJ guy's studio? We heard you can go on his show and tell your family where you are.”
“You mean DJ Dan,” Darius said.
Shy nodded.
“See, a lot of people get that mixed up,” Darius said. “DJ Dan broadcasts his show out of the Sony Records building, which is a couple blocks north of here.”
Shy's heart dropped. Aside from getting Shoeshine medical attention, DJ Dan was the main reason they'd come here.
Darius motioned toward Marcus's radio. “I'm glad you mentioned that, actually. We ask that residents not listen to that show out in the open. A lot of folksâ¦Like I said, they don't want to think about what's actually happening out there.”
Shy felt like collapsing onto the ground. Giving up. Nothing had gone right from the second they'd landed in California. And now he'd handed over his ring for
nothing.
But he didn't collapse. Even collapsing would take too much effort. Instead he reluctantly followed Carmen and Marcus up the three steps that led to the trailer door Darius was holding open.
“Smells
amazing,
” Carmen said.
The scent hit Shy as soon as he stepped inside. He looked around the narrow trailer. It was empty aside from four thin pads lying on the floor, four sets of bedding and four steaming bowls of chili.
“Your welcome gift,” Darius said, wearing a big smile.
“Are you shittin' me?” Carmen said, looking to Shy.
He shrugged, still stuck on the DJ and his ring.
“Enjoy,” Darius said, stepping out of the trailer.
Before the door clicked shut behind the man, Carmen and Marcus were squatting over their bowls, shoveling spoonfuls of chili down their throats.
Shy watched them for a few seconds, trying to think up a new plan to find the DJ. But his hunger cramps got the best of him, and he went to his chili, too.
