Lifeless (Lawless Saga Book 2) Page 2

  “Too bad,” said Bishop, slapping his leg and getting to his feet. “I hoped . . . Ah, well. I’ll give you some time. Maybe a few days strapped to that bed will help you see things more clearly.”

  “And if I don’t?” growled Bernie.

  “Then you’ll get what you have coming.”

  Bishop turned on his heel and crossed to the door, and Bernie felt the full impact of his words hit her. She’d never known an inmate who’d attempted an escape to be allowed back inside San Judas, but it seemed odd that he hadn’t threatened her with some horrible supermax facility.

  Bernie couldn’t help it. “Am I going to max?” she blurted.

  Bishop paused with his hand on the doorknob. “You’ll go wherever we decide. You’ve made it clear where your priorities lie . . .”

  He opened the door, and Bernie felt a hot flash of rage.

  “I have to say, though . . . I thought you were smarter than this.”

  Bernie scowled and turned to stare at her feet. “You don’t know shit about me.”

  two

  Lark

  By the time Lark and Soren emerged from the diner, the sun had turned the pavement into a concrete griddle. The bell hanging on the door banged against the glass, emitting a jarring tinkle that made Lark’s heart seize with panic. Every nerve in her body felt electrified, and her limbs seemed to move without consulting her brain.

  They crossed the barren parking lot in ten feverish steps, climbed into the Ranger, and slammed the doors shut. The sun-faded hula dancer glued to the dashboard shuddered.

  Denali sniffed around in the back seat before perching his front feet on the center console to pant in Lark’s ear. It was stiflingly hot inside the vehicle, but Lark didn’t move to roll down a window. She just stared out at the desolate street and shivered.

  “I can’t believe this,” muttered Soren.

  He was sitting in the passenger seat holding the palm-sized revolver Axel had stolen. He kept turning it over in his hands, as if looking for some confirmation that everything they’d heard hadn’t been a dream.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Lark couldn’t seem to form a response. Her hands were shaking so badly that she didn’t know if she could drive. She was still breathing hard and fast, but she couldn’t quite fill her lungs.

  “You think that woman was telling the truth?”

  Lark shrugged.

  “I mean, we saw the newspaper . . . She couldn’t have made that up, right?”

  Lark nodded, finding the truck key and scraping it around the ignition as she groped for the key hole.

  Everything the girl from the diner had said sounded crazy, but she’d struck Lark as a very capable person when she’d threatened them.

  According to her, flooding along the East Coast and the Mississippi had displaced millions of people, and severe droughts in the Southwest and other parts of the world had triggered devastating food shortages. It was impossible to know how many had died in the famine, but the girl had seemed convinced that this was the end.

  Under normal circumstances, Lark never would have believed her. Sure, the Southwest was dry. The so-called “mega-drought” had started long before she was born. She vaguely remembered a new inmate rattling on about a series of superstorms that had devastated the East Coast a year and a half earlier, but it had never occurred to Lark that those things could have been related.

  She certainly found it difficult to believe that there could ever be famine in the U.S., but the conspicuous lack of people in Loving, New Mexico, and the doomsday note they had found back at the market made Lark think that the girl might have been telling the truth.

  “It’s not like we’d know if things did go sideways,” Soren continued. “I mean, we’ve been locked up. I was inside for two years before I came to San Judas. You’ve been away for five years.”

  Lark opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a muffled sort of “yuh.”

  “They went through our mail . . . Shit went missing . . . And all this time, they were just covering it up.”

  Lark dragged in a deep breath. Soren’s warm brown eyes found hers, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

  “Want me to drive?”

  Lark nodded, and Soren got out to take her place. Lark climbed over to the passenger side, squinting back at the diner to see if the girl was still watching them.

  The sunlight beating through the window seemed to hit her all at once, and she suddenly became aware that sweat was pouring off her. The hairs that had come loose from her braid were plastered to the side of her neck, and her gray prison T-shirt felt heavy and damp.

  Soren started the old truck after a few sputters and clicks, and they pulled out of the parking lot with a squeal of rubber on road. They still had just under a quarter tank of gas, but by the sound of things, those few gallons were a luxury. If the country had come to a grinding halt, things like food and fuel and clean water would be commodities worth killing for.

  Soren turned back onto the highway, and they sped off to pick up Axel and Simjay. He and Lark had ventured out to look for gas earlier that morning and left them stranded on the side of the road with the stolen Suburban.

  Lark glanced at the clock on the dashboard and gave a start. It was nearly ten.

  World collapse or not, the four of them were still fugitives on the run. They had no way of knowing what lengths the police might go to in order to bring them back into custody, but they had to assume the worst.

  As they sped down the desolate two-lane road, Lark realized that they hadn’t passed a single car since their escape. Their route wound through wide open fields of dirt and sagebrush, but there weren’t any houses, gas stations, or fast-food restaurants in sight.

  Finally, they reached the spot where they’d left the stolen SUV and pulled off into the ditch. The Ranger groaned as they hit dirt and rock, but within seconds, they were blazing across the field as easily as if it were paved.

  Soren pulled around behind the falling-down barn, and Lark’s stomach lurched. The Suburban was standing right where it had been when they’d run out of gas, but the driver’s side door had been thrown wide open. One of the back doors was open, too, but no one was inside the vehicle.

  “Shit,” Soren breathed, backing up and scanning the landscape for any sign of law enforcement. “You see them?”

  Lark shook her head, her heart beating in her throat. In the shelter of the old barn, it was impossible to see the Suburban from the road, but something was wrong. Axel and Simjay wouldn’t have left the area of their own volition. Lark and Soren had only been gone a few hours, and they had no way to stay in touch.

  Had the police been canvasing the area, or had Axel and Simjay had a run-in with someone else?

  Soren pulled the hand brake but left the engine running. “Stay here.”

  “What?”

  “If you see anybody, you get the hell out of here,” he growled, reaching over and giving her leg a squeeze. “I’ll meet you back at the gas station in two hours.”

  Lark shook her head, but she was too worked up to refuse. She could never turn around and leave Soren, but he seemed to take her silence for a tacit agreement. He shot her a bracing look and got out to investigate.

  Denali instantly deduced that something was amiss. He was whining and scratching at the center console, trying to climb into the front seat to scan for threats.

  Soren’s back was ramrod straight as he stepped through the sea of scraggy bushes. He was holding the revolver in a retention position, and she could see the muscles twitching under his coppery skin as he braced himself for an attack.

  Lark watched with bated breath as he approached the Suburban. He circled the vehicle once before throwing all the doors open, checking under the SUV, and heading for the barn.

  The ancient structure had been neglected for so long that part of the roof was completely caved in. The old boards were bowed and gray, and daylight streamed through the wide gaps.

  Su
ddenly, a gunshot cracked the air, and Lark heard herself scream.

  Soren threw himself to the ground, covering his head with his hands. The bullet had missed him by inches. “Mother — fucker!”

  A surge of panic shot through Lark’s veins. She clambered over to the driver’s side and put her shaky hand on the clutch. She was just about to zip over to Soren and throw the door open when a familiar voice drifted from the barn.

  “Hensley . . . S’at you?”

  Soren raised his head a few inches, looking both furious and relieved. He let out a heavy sigh. “Of course it’s me, you stupid asshole.”

  A low chuckle sounded from the rubble. Lark watched as a pile of debris shifted inside the barn and a large shadowy figure climbed out from the wreckage. He had a hideous bowl haircut, pale skin, and very small beady eyes.

  “Je-man-eeeee-Christmas!” Axel chortled, tucking the stolen Glock into his waistband. “You don’ sneak up on a man unannounced like ’at. He’s liable to shootcha in the gonads.”

  “You were waiting for us!” yelled Soren, pushing himself into an upright position and taking several quick strides toward Axel.

  For a moment, Lark thought Soren was going to deck him. If he didn’t, she was going to do it herself.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she cried, climbing out of the vehicle and staggering toward them.

  “Whoa, keep your panties on!” said Axel, raising his flabby arms in a gesture of surrender. “You two drive up in that ol’ rust bucket . . . don’ announce yourselves . . . What was we suppos’ to do?”

  “How about you see who it is before you start shooting?” shouted Lark.

  “Only dead men hesitate, girly,” said Axel in a demeaning voice. “Cain’t be too careful out here. You coulda just as easily been the Minutemen comin’ to round us up.”

  “That’s at the Mexican border, you idiot,” Lark snarled.

  There was a flurry of activity from inside the barn, followed by the loud clang of boards. A tall Indian guy emerged a second later looking shaken. Simjay had a narrow face, handsome features, and a swoop of silky black hair. At the moment he was covered in dirt and seemed to be shivering off spiderwebs while he picked splinters out of his fingers.

  “Just so you know, this wasn’t my idea.”

  Axel rolled his eyes and cracked a grin. “Ya’ll shoulda seen this one when we was hunkerin’ down in there. There was this ’coon skeleton buried in the rubble, and I swear to gawd I thought he was gonna piss his pants.” Axel screwed up his face and put on a high, girlish voice. “‘What are we gonna do, Axel? Don’t shoot! What if the vibrations cause the barn to collapse and we’re trapped forever?’” Axel rolled his eyes. “Pussy.”

  Lark felt a strong surge of sympathy for Simjay, who was flushing a brilliant shade of red.

  “What in the hell took you so long, anyway? Please tell me ya’ll didn’t waste four whole hours just to get that hunk of junk.” He gestured at the rusted-out Ranger, where Denali was watching nervously from the window.

  Lark wanted to scream and strangle Axel, but instead she strode off to let Denali out of the truck. She knew they had to tell Axel and Simjay what the girl from the diner had said, but she couldn’t bring herself to put it into words. Saying it out loud made it seem more real somehow, and she didn’t want to accept that the girl might have been telling the truth.

  The end of the world meant that everything she’d left behind was gone for good. For years all she’d dreamt about was getting out of San Judas, but she’d always imagined that the world would be waiting for her when she returned. Now they’d learned that there might not be anything left, and Lark wasn’t sure she could handle it.

  When she opened the driver’s side door, Denali bounded toward Axel, barking ferociously.

  Axel jumped back, and Denali latched on to his pant leg with a growl.

  “Denali!” Lark yelled.

  “Gittim off me!” yelled Axel, shaking his leg. “Ow! What’s your pro’lem?”

  Denali clung on.

  “Off!” yelled Lark.

  There was a brief pause as Denali looked at Lark, as though he were deciding if Axel was still a threat. Finally, he released his jaw but continued to growl.

  “Enough!” snapped Lark. Denali stopped, hackles still raised.

  Axel let out a huff of relief and glared over at her. “Damn!”

  “What? You shot at us. He’s just being protective.”

  “Yeah, whatever. You jus’ keep your mangy mutt under control, lil’ girl,” he said.

  “Or what?” Lark snarled.

  Axel ignored her. He just turned back toward Soren and continued their conversation. “So you’re sayin’ the place was deserted?”

  “A ghost town. I’m telling you . . . there’s nothing left.”

  “So what?” said Axel with a shrug. “Plenty of towns went belly-up when the railroad closed or when new highways —”

  Soren shook his head. “It wasn’t like that. I’m telling you . . . people left recently . . . and we found out why.”

  Soren took a deep breath and continued his story about their journey through town. He recounted everything the girl from the diner had told them, talking over Axel’s splutters of disbelief and Simjay’s annoying stream of questions.

  When he’d finished, Lark’s stomach had wound itself into knots, and Simjay’s eyes were as round as dinner plates. Axel, on the other hand, was wearing a dubious smirk.

  “Are you shittin’ me?” he asked after a long pause.

  Soren shook his head.

  “Ya’ll don’ really believe all that, do ya?”

  There was a long pause as Axel stared at them. Then he let out a bark of derisive laughter. “Man, I’m tellin’ you . . . that bitch seen you comin’.”

  Lark frowned.

  “She was pullin’ your leg!” Axel cried.

  “You didn’t see the town,” snapped Lark, feeling simultaneously annoyed and defensive.

  “Yeah,” said Soren. “And the newspaper outside the diner confirms everything she said.”

  Axel rolled his eyes and let out a scoff of disbelief.

  “It sort of makes sense,” said Simjay.

  Axel’s beady eyes swiveled in his direction.

  “Well, think about it,” Simjay continued. “The guards disappearing from the prison . . . the disruption in supplies . . . not to mention the mail just stopped coming with no explanation. And we haven’t seen a single car drive by since we’ve been here.”

  “That don’ mean anything,” said Axel. But he only sounded half-convinced himself. “Why would the prison still be open if the fuckin’ U.S. Postal Service went under?”

  “The girl at the diner said GreenSeed has patents for some drought-resistant supercrops,” said Lark. “They might be the only company that stands to make money from all of this.”

  “Motherfucker,” breathed Axel, looking as though he’d just realized what they’d all been trying to tell him. “They been testin’ all their new seeds on us like we’s some fuckin’ guinea pigs.”

  Lark crossed her arms and tried to keep her smugness in check. It seemed that Axel was starting to accept the reality of the situation.

  Suddenly, Denali let out a short warning bark, and a low hum reached Lark’s ears. They all fell silent, listening intently for the source of the noise, and Lark’s stomach clenched.

  “Shit,” said Axel.

  “Someone’s coming,” muttered Soren.

  In all the excitement, Lark kept forgetting that they were still on the run. If the people looking for them had heard the gunshot . . .

  “We gotta go,” said Axel, grabbing Simjay by the scruff of the neck and dragging him toward the Ranger. He tossed him into the back and crammed himself into the driver’s seat.

  Lark took shotgun, and Soren climbed into the back with Simjay and Denali.

  “Here,” said Axel, handing the Glock back to Soren. “Give that little peashooter to her and shoot anyone who gets t
oo close.”

  Lark caught Soren’s look of irritation in the side mirror, but he handed the revolver up to her.

  “What about me?” asked Simjay.

  “Please . . . I seen what you’re like under pressure. Somethin’ tells me Bird Girl’s a better shot than you.”

  Lark felt simultaneously flattered and annoyed, but she bit back the snide comment she longed to hurl at Axel and cocked the hammer.

  “Shit, that’s her,” murmured Soren. He was twisted around in the back seat, watching the road from the window.

  “Diner girl?” growled Axel.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Shitcheah.”

  Lark looked over, alarmed by Axel’s excitement. A second later, she heard the whoosh of a passing truck, and a wicked grin spread across Axel’s ugly mug.

  He inched out toward the road, the truck groaning a little as they drove out of the ditch.

  “What are you doing?” snapped Soren as Axel turned back in the direction of the prison.

  He didn’t answer.

  There was a long pause as Soren studied the side of Axel’s face. Lark thought her hammering heart might fight its way out of her chest and take off without her.

  “Are you following her?” asked Soren incredulously.

  “Seems like the quickest way to get some real answers,” said Axel with a shrug.

  Lark’s mouth fell open.

  “Are you crazy?” Soren hissed.

  “She nearly shot us just for walking into the diner,” said Lark. “What do you think she’s gonna do when we pull up behind her at her house?”

  “Well, she’s gonna answer my questions, for a start,” said Axel matter-of-factly.

  Soren let out a short burst of laughter. “That girl is gonna shoot you in the head.”

  “You wanna see your brother again?” barked Axel, staring at Soren in the rearview mirror.

  The truck fell silent.

  “Huh?”

  Soren didn’t say anything. Lark could practically see the steam coming off him and thought he was about to dive on top of Axel and choke him to death.