Zero Trilogy (Book 2): Day One (4 page)

Elle grabbed the side of the red barn. There was so much death here. Yet someone had gone to all the trouble to give the people who had died in this place a grave. Who would do that? Not the Slavers. Not Omega.

Maybe there was a militia in the area. A
real
militia.

A school bus sat behind the plot of dirt. It was streaked with dried blood. Windows were shattered and there were rows of bullet holes riddled throughout the side, making the name of the school illegible.

Elle shuddered.

She walked closer to the bus, taking each step with caution. The driver door was hanging open, broken. It had been forced. Elle took a step into the bus. She pulled her scarf over her nose and mouth,
climbing up. She stopped at the front of the aisle. The seats were empty. There were no children, no bodies. Elle sighed, relieved. She walked down the aisle. There were random notebooks and pencils – even a computer tablet with a shattered screen. In the last row, she sat down.

For a split second, she imagined herself on a bus in Hollywood, on her way to Beverly Hills High School. Not that Elle’s mother would have
ever
allowed Elle to ride a bus – they’d had a private driver for that – but still. The image was normal. Something from the old world.

Something glinted out of the corner of Elle’s eye. She tensed and drew back. And then she laughed aloud. A pair of cheap aviator sunglasses lay on the floor.

She grinned and put them on.

How fortuitous. She walked out of the bus, back into the sunlight. The sunglasses were a little bent, but she didn’t care.
Ask and you shall receive
. That’s what her mother had always said.

A toy-hauler trailer lay on its side beyond the bus, hidden behind a concrete garbage building. The
truck itself was painted black, unmarked. The windshield on the truck hauling the trailer had been smashed open. It looked like it had been lying there since the EMP. Elle walked around the rear of the trailer. The rolling door had been forced open by someone, leaving a gaping hole. It looked dark inside. Elle squinted and walked closer, peering into the maw of the trailer. There were tires and mechanical parts. It smelled of old rubber and WD-40 inside.

Elle climbed into the trailer. It was cool, but she could clearly see the outline of boxes and tools. It looked like someone had rifled through the entire truck, taken what they needed, and then taken off. Had Omega done it? Probably not. Omega had no use for tools or supplies scavenged from a place like this. They had enough troops and weapons to take over the most powerful nation on Earth…they didn’t need to forage.

Elle walked to the back of the trailer, where it was darkest. There were piles of boxes here, most of them empty. And in the very back, just out of view, was what looked like a wheel. She wrapped her hands around the wheel and pulled. She managed to drag it forward a few inches. The seat was worn and torn, but
still usable. It was painted white with strips of green on the sides. Elle pulled it out of the pile. She forced the kickstand down with her foot. She walked in a circle around the bike. It didn’t weigh much more than Elle, and it wasn’t much bigger than her, either.

She tapped the tires. They were solid.

The bike was in good condition. It had been shielded from the elements inside the truck, protected from rain and harsh sunlight. Elle wondered if this truck had been full of bikes when the EMP hit…

Elle looked around, hyperaware of her surroundings.

She knelt down and popped open the gas tank. She took a quick sniff. There was gas. How? She shook her head. A new dirt bike with a tank of gas was still no good to her in a post-EMP world. She paused, wondering…this truck had been sealed when the EMP hit, judging by the way the truck had slid off the road. It hadn’t been totaled until after Day Zero, in the chaotic aftermath of the electromagnetic pulse.

Elle wheeled the bike out of the truck, into the sunlight. She checked her surroundings again, stopping to listen for any unnatural sounds. There was nothing, so she continued.

She threw her leg over the seat of the bike. Living in Beverly Hills as a child, she hadn’t had any major experience riding bikes or ATVs, but she knew enough to start the bike. She flipped the ignition switch. There were no indicator lights, and it appeared to have a dead battery. Elle bit her lip. She knew that with gas in the tank and an otherwise undamaged engine, she could roll-start the bike. She looked down, searching for the kick-start.

Nothing. She tried jamming her heel into the starter again. Again, nothing. She grappled with it several times, rolling the bike forward when the engine suddenly sputtered and roared to life, a fierce contrast to the unearthly silence of the truck stop. It smelled like gasoline.

Elle gripped the handles tightly. She leaned on her left leg, casting a final glance behind her. She snapped the throttle; the bike rumbled with power. She looked at the handlebars, puzzling out the different levers and gauges. It made little sense to her - but she was smart enough to figure out the basics.

She had only two theories as to how this bike had survived the EMP. One, it had been protected from the destructive electromagnetic wave while
ensconced in the metal trailer or
two
, it was an old enough bike to forego an electronic starter. Probably the latter.

That would explain why it still works
, she thought absently.

She shifted into first gear with her left foot, releasing the clutch. The bike leaped forward. Elle yelped, surprised. She let off the throttle and the bike slowed, puttering and spitting. She tested her weight on the bike again, getting a feel for it.

She twisted the throttle again, wobbling onto the road. Elle leaned forward, into the wind. She accelerated quickly as she shifted gears, dizzy with the speed. The rush of moving so quickly was just as exciting as it was terrifying.

She kept her body low, pressed close against the bike. The road became a blur of black pavement below her feet as the highway opened before her, clear and wide. She kept a firm grip on the handles, not wanting to lose control. Her balance was good, but she was unfamiliar with the finer points of handling the bike.

A bolt of excitement shot through her.

She was moving so
fast
. She could cover a massive amount of distance on this thing. She glanced
at the speedometer. 45, 55…60 miles per hour! It seemed incredible after spending days walking hundreds of miles.

Elle smiled and whooped loudly.

Below her, the bike purred and whisked her along the highway.

Chapter Five

Elle was a lone figure against the desert plain. She stood and looked at the dirt bike, leaning on its stand in the middle of the empty highway. It had run out of gas an hour ago. A bitter sweep of cold wind stung her cheeks, blowing dust across the road. Elle tightened her fingers into fists. There hadn’t been any cars for miles, nothing to siphon gas from.

Well. She had no more fuel. She had taken the bike as far as she could.

“Thanks for the memories,” she muttered.

It was late evening. Temperatures were dropping. Elle tucked her head between her shoulders and walked against the wind.

The Mojave Desert. A barren, desolate wasteland in this post-apocalyptic world. It seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction, broken only by the occasional highway marker and bouncing tumbleweed. The sky was incredibly clear. As the sun set, the stars came into view. She could see the Milky Way and the Big Dipper. Bigger constellations that she couldn’t name swirled above her head. She felt like a speck in a snow globe, exposed and tiny.

As the night wore on, a thin layer of ice crusted over the top of the road. Elle’s fingers froze. Her face was numb. Bits of ice stuck to her eyelashes. She was bundled up in her jacket, wrapped in layers of clothing. It was barely enough to keep the cold at bay.

Up ahead, she could make out the shape of bushes near the side of the highway. She approached it, slowly. It was a small clump of brush. She kicked it, ready for something – maybe an animal – to come running out. There was nothing. She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled into the middle of the brush. It was itchy and sharp. Branches scraped against her face. She pulled her hood tighter and shoved her hands in her pockets. She unzipped her pack.

There was a wool blanket rolled up. It was one of the heavier items that she had been lugging around. Many times she had almost discarded it because of the inconvenience, but tonight she was thankful for it. She wrapped it around herself and slapped her backpack on the ground, using it as a pillow.

She closed her eyes and tried to rest.

Morning came quickly. Elle snapped awake. Her lips were stiff, her joints were frozen. She stretched out her fingers and sat up. The brush was dusted with frost. The sun was rising in the east, behind the distant Tehachapi Mountains.
It’s a beautiful scene
, Elle thought.
But it would be even
more
beautiful if she weren’t so
cold.

She rifled through her supplies, staying inside the mediocre warmth of the shrubbery. She took a quick drink of water, ate an energy bar, and closed her backpack. Time to go. She took comfort in the fact that she had enough food to last for at least two weeks before she would need to hunt or scavenge – but only if she was wise, eating only as needed, not as wanted.

She crawled out of the brush and stood up, taking the sunglasses out of her pocket. She glanced at the map that Sienna had given her. She was following Highway 14. She had cut off a huge chunk of her journey by utilizing the dirt bike, but she still had another one hundred and seventy miles to go. It would take her four or five days on foot, she estimated.

A long time.

The sun rose, shedding a little bit of warmth on the desert. The highway began to curve. On the right side of the road, a sign read:

ROSAMOND: EDWARDS AIR FORCE BASE.

Elle pulled out her map. She found Rosamond and touched it with her finger. It was a little town, halfway across the desert. It was near Edwards Air Force Base. Elle didn’t think that there was any United States Military left there, and she didn’t want to risk finding out if Omega had taken over the base.

She would follow the highway through the city. It was the fastest route, and she doubted that a city in the middle of the desert would be populated with dangerous gangs like the Klan.

Elle passed the green directional sign. She glanced behind her shoulder and stopped. There was a gold star painted on the back of the sign.

Another breadcrumb
, Elle thought.

She quickened her pace, encouraged. At least she knew she was heading in the right direction. This was good news. As she moved, she noticed a faint scent in the wind. It smelled like smoke from a fire. She took another sniff. Yes, it was
definitely
smoke.

Elle cautiously moved forward. The smoke was being carried toward her. That could only mean that it was coming from the city of Rosamond. She rounded the curve in the highway. The small town was little more than a collection of square buildings, a sore thumb against the sweeping flatness of the desert. The highway ran straight through the center.

In the middle of the road, piles of rusty vehicles were on fire. The flames leaped high into the air. Black, acrid smoke billowed into the sky. Shadowy figures moved around the outside of the burning vehicles. Elle’s heart dropped to her stomach as she retreated back around the curve of the highway.
What are they?
Elle thought.
Slavers? Gang members? Omega?
She didn’t know. Definitely didn’t want to find out.

Elle dropped behind cover and pulled out her map. There had to be a way that she could bypass the city without being seen by whatever psychopaths were burning cars in the middle of the street.

She traced her finger along the highway. She could walk around the west side of the city. It would cost her an extra three miles, but it would be safer than risking running into murdering thugs. She had a
katana and a gun, but she was only one girl. It was better to play it safe.

She folded the map.

She would take the detour.

“Honey, don’t forget your backpack,” Mom said
.

It was early morning. The first day of school. Elle was a sophomore today. She grabbed her backpack, sitting on the dining room table. Their apartment was perfectly clean, perfectly organized. White walls and shelves, framed pictures of modern art and stacks of historical books on the coffee table
.

“Will Samuel drive me to school every day again this year?” Elle asked, lacing her sneakers. She was fifteen, small for her age. Her hair was black, short. Her skin was pale. “Because it’s kind of embarrassing, mom. The other kids’ parents actually drop them off.”

She looked pointedly at her mother
.

“You know I don’t do that,” Mom replied. “Quit complaining. You should be thankful to have a driver. Not everyone is so privileged.”

“Or spoiled,” Elle murmured. She swung her backpack over her shoulder. “I’ve got gymnastics after school today.”

“Don’t be late.”

“I won’t. I’ve got
Samuel
to drive me.”

Mom stepped out of the kitchen, dressed in a pristine, all-white business suit. Her jet-black hair was slicked into a tight bun
.

“You know, Elle, this could be a good year for us.”

“How so?”

“Well, Jerry called me. He said I’ve got an audition for that new television show I’ve been talking about.”

Elle bit her lip. Her mother was an aspiring actress. Her father was a wealthy celebrity lawyer. And Elle…well, she was just herself. A busy but lonely child being shuttled from school, to tutors, and to her mother’s acting auditions. Her older brother, Johnny, had taken the rebellious route – he was currently doing time for drunk driving
.

Elle was the youngest child. The quiet one. The one who had to be driven to school every day by a private driver in a Mercedes. All paid for, compliments of her wealthy father, a man who was only
sometimes
home
.