Chapter 6

All Nightmare Long

Summary: Leaving Los Angeles.

As we drove away from downtown L.A. back into the Hills and the Valley beyond, I asked, "Jade, do you need anything from your house?"

"Uh, yeah. There are some things I'd like." I was somewhat surprised. I knew she had some things she needed and wanted but expected a snarkier answer. But I guess it was all getting to Jade too. I hid a smile as I thought it made her seem more human.

I nodded and drove to the West house for the second time ever. Jade took over the radio but the only signal she could find was the EAS recording on the two assigned frequencies. FM was silent except for the hiss of the carrier signals she passed through. My DJ from Dago was still silent. I hoped it was just a technical glitch or power failure and he was okay.

"Want to use the CD player?"

True to her nature, Jade shook her head, "Not with the music you're likely to have!"

I actually laughed at that but said nothing to Jade's glare. Eventually, she did find some CDs to her liking, but we didn't bother until we had left the L.A. metro area. Somehow, in the city, at that time, music seemed...unimportant.

I parked on the wrong side of the street right in front of Jade's door - Mariska pointed the wrong way on the left side of the road with the driver's side on the curb. Jade got out on the street side, strutted around the hood of the car onto the yard and then leaned into my window. "Wait here. I don't want to leave this stuff unguarded. I won't be long."

With that, Jade was across the lawn and in her house.

I sat and kept an eye out for anything. On the way to Jade's, I saw a lot more damage than just a day or so before. Burned out cars, shops and, occasionally, homes. And we heard a lot of gunfire - fortunately it was pretty distant and seemed to come from the more commercial areas. While not as bad as our trip downtown, it was scary.

This was like some apocalyptic movie but it was a real-life nightmare. Everything I took for granted was being destroyed or, at best, twisted and warped. As I sat there in front of the West home, I wished I could wake up. Then my conscious state was confirmed…

A sudden spurt of automatic fire within a mile or so. I really started to get edgy. It sounded like the big firecrackers Trina brought from some guy who brought them in from across the border in Tijuana – M-60s or M-80s or whatever.

But I knew these weren't fireworks. I kept looking around, checking the mirrors and craning my neck, all the while wishing Jade would hurry up.

Thinking I saw something just out of sight, my head jerked around then back to look back the other way. Looking forward at what turned out to be a stray dog, I again thought I saw something in the rearview mirror but, as I whipped my head around once more, nothing was there.

We had to get out of the city! Now!

Then I felt something cold against my neck and heard the click of a hammer being pulled back. A booze-soaked voice said, "Hey, sweet cheeks. Do us both a favor and get out. I need your car. And the loot in the back. Oh, if you're nice enough, I might take you too." Then, with foul-smelling breath, he added, "And don't make a move to that cannon on your hip."

My heart was hammering as I desperately tried to think of a way out of this mess. Slowly, I got out of the car, my hands well away from my holstered gun.

I got a good look at the guy when I was out of the car. He was about my age with greasy blond hair and he was sweating badly, worse than me in my fear. I wasn't sure if it was the Fever, nerves, drugs or liquor but I tried to edge away from him regardless.

Pulling the Magnum from my holster, he gazed into the back-seat window, guessing at the apparent riches under the tarp. Then I heard the voice of an avenging angel.

"Hey! Asshole!"

He spun around and started to raise his gun, even as Jade pulled both triggers of a double-barreled, sawed-off shotgun.

It wasn't as loud as I expected even as his middle blew up. Gore and small holes peppered the driver's side back door of the SUV behind his body as he fell limp next to me. I stared at the body but strangely felt nothing but relief.

"Way to go, Vega! I leave you for a couple of minutes and some dirtbag gets the drop on you..."

Jade was in front of me by that point and I grabbed her, pulling her to me as I suddenly started sobbing into her shoulder as the realization hit me.

I kept saying, "Thank you, Jade. Thank you," over and over again. Then Jade started to cry too.

"I never killed any…anything before..." she sobbed. I held her tighter.

I hadn't either but I hoped I'd be as quick as Jade if she or I were in danger. Sadly, I prayed I would.

A couple of minutes of shared tears over the unnamed boy at our feet as well as the world we were leaving behind – likely forever. But it wasn't the last time we'd be crying…

As we pulled apart slowly, Jade nodded at me. Harshly wiping her eyes, she walked over to the corpse and took my gun, handing it back to me. After checking it, she tossed his gun next to his corpse, stating in a falsely strong voice, "He can keep it. It's just a cheap .38 revolver. Most likely a Saturday Night Special anyway. Probably blow up in your hand the first time you pull the trigger."

Jade walked back towards her front door to grab the bags she dropped when she saw me literally under the gun. As she brought them to the truck, I saw a couple of long sleeves indicating rifles. She explained the new hardware she had used, "Mainly ammo and a couple of rifles. Nothing as heavy duty as those Kalashnikovs but they have a nice range." She hefted a sawed-off, double-barreled shotgun she had used, saying, "Another one of Dad's hunting pieces but I cut down the barrel and the stock once I brought it and the other guns and ammo from his place the other day." As an aside, she added, "The day before you came by..."

It struck me then, "Hey! Yesterday, you didn't have a gun either!"

Shrugging that off, she jogged back to the house and came out with a couple of soft-sided suitcases. She simply said, "Had them ready to leave before I saw your note. Just didn't have an idea of where to go… Then."

She shook her head and said, "Let's get the hell out of here."

I nodded and got in the truck, purposely ignoring the mess on Mariska and on the ground. But I knew I'd never forget that moment. Or the sight of the dead boy on the grass between the sidewalk and the curb.

As distant gunfire echoed around us, we drove north and away from Los Angeles.

Soon enough, in the distance east of us, we saw another dark cloud billowing up from the direction of Pasadena. I knew that had to be the Rose Bowl funeral pyre I'd heard one of the MPs mention when we tried to contact Dad.

"Jade, do you want to talk about it? About anything?" I dared to ask.

Rather than the expected pointed retort, her voice was scarily subdued when she quietly replied, "no."

We were heading through the residential areas of the eastern part of the San Fernando Valley, thinking side streets away from business districts would have less traffic and, hopefully, be safer. For the most part, we were right, except for the occasional two or three-car accident that caused us to double-back to a cross street, as I often did the day before. The distant gunfire and sporadic explosions still filled the air. But it was more random than in L.A. itself. Most times it seemed they were near shopping centers – survivors fighting over the remains. And fortunately, it sounded further and further away.

The smell of burning wood mixed with burnt rubber and plastic, as well as an ozone-like smell from metal being scorched, was becoming more pronounced. The air was hazier too. No real smoke clouds near us but we could see some beyond the houses in the neighborhoods we drove through.

That distinctive barbecue smell I noticed near the Colosseum the day before was mixed in as well but I really tried to forget the origin of that part of the stench.

After leaving her house, Jade stayed silent except for orders to stop at every intact Dunkin Donuts, Jet Brew, Starbucks, Caribou Coffee, Bad Ass Coffee and any coffee shop we passed - whether they were open or not. 'Not' was preferable, of course. But Jade didn't care if she paid for it or had to play Jesse James. She wanted a stockpile of coffee as well.

Of course, we didn't stop near any loud gunfire. Even Jade agreed.

One of the first stops, at a closed but undamaged Dunkin Donuts in North Hollywood, gained us almost more coffee than I'd ever need. I still remember Jade saying she had to have it and more.

Thankfully, Jade also brought a bunch of bottled water and poured several of them out across the driver's side rear door and quarter panel, removing most, if not all, of the last of the would-be hijacker's remains. With that gone, I felt I could ignore the half-dozen small holes that spackled the driver's side - well above the wheel well. Jade said, "I wasn't trying not to hit the tire. Just lucky with my aim.

"But I hated the idea he was getting a free ride," Jade added in her typical snarky tone. Then she lapsed back into that silence that filled Mariska since we left her house. I didn't mind. I was still trying to wrap my head around that same dead boy back in Hollywood. As we drove through Sun Valley, Jade finally spoke up as we passed along one of the many suburban side streets.

"You know, these houses... These neighborhoods don't seem any different. All this looks so normal. On weekdays, you almost never see anyone outside except maybe a mailman or someone walking their dog or going to their car. More likely a lawn service. Even in the afternoons and evenings, they might be outside but in the backyard. I know most of the people in those homey-looking places are either dead or dying, but the lawns are still well-kept and there's no trash yet or… It just looks so normal. But it's not, you know?"

Nodding as I knew it was the truth, and I had accepted it, but to hear it stated so baldly was startling. I replied, "In a few days, the yards will start to become overgrown. In a few weeks, they'll look like Herman Munster's yard."

Jade smirked at me, "Nice. Classic TV reference."

"When we get into the country, I doubt we'll even see many signs of the plague on or off the freeway," I said. "I'm still planning to avoid any interstates anyway. Except I-5 through Rice Canyon and into Santa Clarita."

Jade pulled out the highway map of the eastern Valley and indicated while she was talking. "I've been giving it some thought and even checked your map last night. Take Foothill Boulevard. Parallels the interstate and, hopefully, we can avoid any stalled traffic."

Pulling out one of Dad's spiral-bound Thomas Guides for Los Angeles, Jade flipped to the appropriate pages for the western valley. Thomas Brothers had been making and updating maps of the western US for over a century - while focusing on the West Coast, they even created one for the Baltimore-Washington area on the east coast.

Jade, with those detailed map pages, found an alternative to I-5, one we both missed last night. I added to the long list of reasons I was glad she was with me. Would that list end? I actually hoped not.

Yes, I had a crush on Jade West - for a while - but, instead of telling her, I merely said, "Thanks Jade. That's a good idea."

"Yeah, I suppose," she replied emotionlessly as she closed the atlas. With several Thomas Atlas' volumes, I also had maps of California, the greater Los Angeles area and the Valley. The local maps would soon be worthless once we got past Santa Clarita. But I planned to keep them in case either of us ever had to come back in the future. Never say never...

I was surprised when Jade took a deep, shuddery breath, "I killed a man..."

Jade's tone was so somber and almost lifeless, it had me a little worried. I had seen a boy killed in front of me, but I didn't pull the trigger. Jade had. I was grateful but… I really had no words at that moment. I knew she was still dealing with actually killing someone.

I remembered Mom mentioning Dad's first time killing an armed man while he was on duty. He was a rookie in uniform, a few years before Trina and I came along. And I remember Mom saying he never really got over it and he had departmental psychologists to help.

Jade only had me. I hoped I could be enough. But I feared I wouldn't be.

With all that in my head, in less than a second, I pulled over, reached over and grasped her limp hand in both of mine, "Jade, you saved my life. I can never thank you enough for that. I can thank you a hundred, a thousand times a day for the rest of my life but it won't be enough. And it won't help how you feel. I can't imagine how you feel but I'm here if you need me."

I pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly. Suddenly, she squeezed back, saying, "I do need you. We need each other now. But even your thanks, much as I appreciate them, can't wipe that memory from my mind... Give me some time…"

We broke the hug but stared at each other. Even as I remembered seeing his body practically cut in half by the short-range blast, I looked straight into her eyes and said, "I will. And I know nothing will ever erase the memory of him dying in front of us. But you need to know that you did what had to be done."

To be honest, I expected some smart-ass comment. I actually think I was hoping for that. Instead she returned my gaze before nodding slowly and saying, "Yeah. I guess... I know friends are worth... But... Yeah..."

I nodded in sympathy. I realized she didn't regret saving me but was just appalled at killing the boy. Added to that memory, Jade had no idea about her mother or anyone in her father's new family. Just suspicions. I guess I was feeling the same. Like Jade, I had no idea what was happening with Dad.

At least I had a chance to find out, eventually. Possibly. A slim chance but it was likely more than Jade had.

I started driving again and we continued through the oddly quiet suburban neighborhood.

Strangely, at that moment, we passed a pudgy man in a Dodgers baseball cap, a strained, stained wife-beater t-shirt, Hawaiian shorts and sandals. He was mowing his lawn with a big stogie in his mouth and a beer in one hand. He waved a greeting with his beer and kept going up and down his front yard. I did note the pistol slung on his hip.

Even as we both waved back, we laughed at the incongruity of personal lawn maintenance during the end of the world.

"Guess he gave up waiting for the lawn service," Jade joked. We both laughed loudly as we drove along the street.

That was followed by another period of silence as we continued through the more sparsely settled parts of the east Valley, heading further and further from the ruins of our past lives.

Jade pulled a CD out of the disks Dad had in a portable carrier, and shoved it in the dashboard player. Once it started, I realized it was a greatest hits CD of Robert Palmer, a popular British musician on the FM radio stations. His medley of Sailin' Shoes - Hey Julia - Sneakin' Sally Through The Alley medley led off and I started singing along.

Jade gave me an evil eye look and I dropped my volume until I was practically singing to myself. Still, Palmer was a good choice, in my opinion.

Finally, I said, "Um, I'm still planning to head on up through the pass to Santa Clarita – on Foothills like you suggested - then, barring traffic problems, briefly hop on the Antelope Valley Freeway towards Palmdale and Lancaster. Hopefully, that far from L.A., there shouldn't be too much traffic or blockages. Unless you think I should take Sierra after Antelope breaks off from the I-5…"

"Jade? Sierra Highway or the Antelope?"

Jade waved her hand idlily, "Whatever. I think we are far enough out of the city…"

"The Antelope should be shorter so I'll give that a try…"

"Sure. I trust you Tori." I didn't have any idea what to say. Jade had never, ever said anything like that to me. But instead of trying to reply, I decided to go over our route.

"From there, we'll stay on 1-4 then 395 North, skirting the eastern slope of the Sierras up past Mono Lake. After that, we head up 108 over the crest to the camp. Sound good? Should be able to hunker down there for a while until we see how things develop over the next few months."

"Okay. And Vega? Hunker down? What are we? In a Louis L'Amour novel?" True Jade West!

L'Amour was a best-selling classic western novelist. Several of his books became motion pictures.

Anyway, Jade actually cracked a bit of a smile. That was a huge relief. Rather than say anything about that, I protested, "It's a legitimate term. And it kinda fits too."

"Suppose so," Jade admitted. Those were the last words Jade spoke for a long while, though.

Note: Again, thanks to Loganx5 for help on this story.